Chapter 55: Spending a Wonderful Night with Poirot

The world truly was strange.

Just a few years ago, I was working in a tavern like this as a bartender, serving adventurers who came from all directions. In my imagination, their world was thrilling and dangerous, never lacking in risk or fun. Although I did not really agree with that kind of lifestyle, I still thought they were extraordinary and remarkable people.

In just a few short years, time had come full circle. Dressed as an Adventurer, I sat in a tavern as a guest, receiving looks of respect and envy from the young bartender. This young kid probably thought I was one of those remarkable people too, I guessed. When I thought back to how I had felt back then, I did not know whether to laugh or cry—who knew whether I had also taken some ordinary people like myself for heroes?

So-called heroes probably only appeared in the eyes of those who did not truly understand them.

…

Ever since Fred won the Second Battle of Centuria—of course, he himself did not think so, but our generous King could not wait to force this honor into his hands and loudly advertised it as his own military achievement—the 9th Legion had become synonymous with the elite forces of the Delanmaya Army. Fred’s status had risen greatly, making him a military leader of great importance in the country—although he still remained unpopular with the bureaucrats—and he had received some special privileges, such as the right to independently purchase military supplies within a certain scope. Naturally, these benefits had all been turned, without any reservation, into enviable profits in the account of Hugh Enrique, the young head of the Enrique Chamber of Commerce.

I really wanted to know how Hugh did business: every time, he could provide us with supplies at a price far lower than the unified military purchase price, yet the quality was always much better than the shoddy stuff “gracefully given” by those fellows in the quartermaster department who loved to squeeze people’s necks. Once, when I finally could not help asking him, he asked me a question in return:

“Do you know how much money those bloodsuckers, who eat people without even spitting out the bones, embezzle every year?”

I thought I understood.

Besides logistical support, we also got a lot of interesting information from Hugh, from large-scale troop movements of the Winston Army down to what kind of lacy, sensual underwear Duke Jorel, the military chief of Winston, liked for his third mistress. Letting this fellow be a merchant was truly a loss for the Delanmaya intelligence department; he could always analyze something valuable from the trade and transportation routes between nations. Of course, these “valuable things” did not include the current fashionable ladies’ underwear styles.

After that battle, the Winston people cowered inside Davo City on the southern bank of the Morning Light River and did not start any large-scale battles again. But small-scale harassing fights between the two sides never stopped. Winston cavalry units of three or five hundred men kept appearing in the small villages and towns on the Centuria Plains, spreading the fear of war across Delanmaya’s land through threats and intimidation. Sometimes they ran into Delanmaya ambushes, suffered a bit, and left behind a few corpses. Fights like this were depressing.

Davo City was like a nail that the Winston people had driven into the heart of Delanmaya, firmly pinning the shadow of war onto Delanmaya’s land.

Fred had not been without the idea of pulling out this nail, but the enemy’s tall city walls and well-trained soldiers made him give up that thought every time. Although the Winston forces were not strong enough to launch a decisive large-scale battle, they had more than enough strength to defend such a fully equipped and heavily guarded city. If they were to launch a frontal assault, it would be hard to succeed without paying a price more than five times as great. More importantly, the Morning Light River behind the city provided it with a good supply line—ever since the Winston people had occupied several major military ports such as Lubizhilin, the Delanmaya Army had completely lost control of the waterways.

More than once, Fred led us at midnight to the foot of the tall Davo City, gazing from afar at the blue banner fluttering in the night wind atop the city wall—a banner that symbolized royal blood. Whenever this happened, his eyes would become blazing hot, as if burning his own eyelashes. What that banner represented was the opponent destined for him for life, his sworn enemy. One duel after another that had ended without a clear victor made him develop a strange feeling toward the master of that banner: anger? Hatred? Respect? Admiration? Or even… perhaps a kind of friendship toward this enemy he had only briefly met on the battlefield?

If so, it must be a friendship that ended only with death!

“This is that man’s city, and I will defeat him right here, I swear.” When he said this facing the city, his tone was calm, but I could always feel the surging waves in his chest.

This stalemate lasted for more than two months, and then it was broken by a routine business visit.

“Remember our friend Kelsey?” That day, as Hugh took the payment from Fred’s hand, he suddenly asked.

I noticed Red Flame’s movements nearby immediately stiffen. The Elves’ originally slender and pointed ears instantly became even more erect, almost pulling themselves off their owner’s head and flying over to us.

“She’s now the greatest pirate leader on the Comet Sea. She really has become a celebrity. Few people along the shores of the Comet Sea don’t know her name. The Red Scarf Pirate Queen, haha, who would have thought it back then… Hey, Fred, are you listening?” Hugh stretched out a hand and waved it in front of the absent-minded Fred.

“Great, this is really good news.” Before Hugh could react, Fred suddenly jumped up and gave him a big hug.

“Jeff, go get Poirot. Red Flame, come to my room right away…”

When I led Poirot, who was as confused as I was, to Fred’s room, Fred and Red Flame were already arguing.

“…I can’t agree, Fred, I’m sorry,” Red Flame said, shaking his head.

“The one who should say sorry is me, Red Flame. I have no other way,” Fred said, looking at our Elven friend with guilt.

“I can help you. I can go against the creed of my race and join this war that has nothing to do with me, because you are my friend. That only concerns me. But I cannot drag Kelsey, who has just left the war, back into it. This is our war. It has nothing to do with her!”

“I know, but I have no choice. I can’t conjure a well-trained naval force out of thin air, and this is the only way to take Davo City. I understand how you feel. If you don’t want to go, I won’t force you. I’ll find someone else. This is war, you know. We always have to do things we don’t want to do.”

Red Flame looked at me and Poirot, who now understood what was going on, lowered his head and thought for a while, then asked, “Is there any other way?”

Fred silently shook his head.

“Alright, I’ll go. When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow. You, Jeff, and Poirot will go together. Your identities will be an Adventurer party hired by Count Guderian. I’ll prepare the necessary documents for you.”

“Okay, I’ll go get ready.”

“Red Flame…” Fred called out to the Elf whose one foot was already out the door.

“Is there anything else?”

“…Thank you!”

Red Flame turned back with a complicated expression. “Don’t misunderstand. Since you are going to send someone no matter what, it’s better if I go than someone else. At least I can dissuade her…”

…

That was the situation. We needed a capable naval force, and our friend Kelsey was a notorious pirate leader. We had come to ask her for help. That was why I was dressed as an Adventurer and appeared in Panlin, a seaside city of the Kingdom of Montica.

Although according to the plan, only three people were supposed to take part in this operation, four had actually come. The main reason was that Miss Eliot was unwilling to stay even a moment away from Poirot. It was obvious that after spending many days together, she had developed a special fondness for the Necromantic Warlock who had saved her life. This classic story of a woman giving herself to the hero who had rescued her had, against all common sense, happened to a Warlock, which made us orthodox warriors very unwilling to accept it. After all, warriors were the natural choice for the main characters of many legendary novels. But Poirot seemed ambiguous toward this unexpected romantic fortune, always treating it in a way that kept a certain distance.

“I really don’t understand you. What are you hesitating about? A girl this beautiful—even the Supreme God would envy you.” Shaking myself out of my wild thoughts, setting aside the war mission for the moment, and taking advantage of Eliot’s absence, I asked Poirot at the table with a lewd grin like a real drunkard.

“I… haven’t made up my mind yet,” Poirot answered hesitantly.

“What decision? You’re not worried about some nonsense like racial prejudice, are you?” Red Flame threw his head back, gulped down a large cup of ale, then slammed the cup heavily onto the table.

“It has nothing to do with that. For a young man to tie his heart to a woman requires a lot of determination. You old monster who has lived for several hundred years wouldn’t understand.”

“…” Red Flame stared at me blankly with his only remaining eye.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t know. I lack experience in this area,” I quickly lowered my head and drank.

“Have I really become old?” Red Flame sighed self-pityingly. “You young people’s matters, I really can’t under…” Poirot and I, with perfect coordination, each grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Once you make up your mind, you lose a lot of fun, like right now…” Poirot gave a sly smile, patted me on the shoulder, and said to me, “Don’t let Eliot come over.” Then he turned and left the table.

“Hey, pretty miss, do I have the honor of buying you a drink?” This unscrupulous Warlock walked up to a young lady and, without any shame, displayed the most despicable side of his human nature. I don’t mean to belittle anyone, but to be honest, apart from being young, I could hardly find anything else attractive about this young lady. Could it be that Poirot’s unwillingness to openly accept Eliot was because he did not want to give up this kind of “fun”? Dealing with the undead all the time really could cause a major change in one’s sense of beauty.

“Human aesthetics really are something special.” Red Flame, who had barely managed to swallow two pieces of bread, stared at Poirot in astonishment and let out an exclamation only a non-human could make.

“Don’t compare that human-shaped lecher with us humans,” I said.

“Where is Mr. Poirot?” Miss Eliot appeared before us. The lighting in the tavern was dim, and she was not wearing the Shaded Crystal Spectacles. Her light purple eyes looked around curiously. To avoid her race causing unnecessary trouble, she was wrapped entirely in a gray cloak. Even so, the attractive curve of her hips was still clearly visible outside the cloak, making some of the nearby drinkers swallow hard.

Compared to that woman over there who was cackling loudly at a few corny jokes, with laughter as unpleasant as a female goose, no matter how you looked at it, Miss Eliot was clearly better. I didn’t understand. I really didn’t understand.

“Poirot is over there,” Red Flame casually pointed in the direction where the Necromantic Warlock was wandering. He was leaning close to the young lady’s ear, whispering something, a mischievous smile on his face.

“What is he doing?” Eliot looked bewildered. “Is that his friend? Should we go over and say hello too?”

We quickly pressed this naive little girl into a chair and seriously told her that Mr. Poirot was carrying out the sacred mission entrusted to him by both the God of Life and the God of Death—to spread the seeds of mercy and love—and that he was now at a critical moment of passionate love, burning like fire and water, absolutely not to be disturbed. The little girl obediently sat down.

“How do you like Mr. Poirot?” I asked casually.

“Mr. Poirot is a good man. He treasures life, loves children, and values friendship. Also, he is so learned. I never knew that carrying out a sacred mission could make a person so happy.” Eliot’s two eyes blinked sparklingly, making Red Flame and me feel a guilt similar to that of luring an underage girl.

“Mr. Poirot is polite to everyone, and the things he says to that young lady over there are also very pleasant…”

“You can hear what they’re saying?” I nearly sprayed out the mouthful of ale.

“Ah, can’t you hear them?” Eliot looked at us in surprise. Having spent so long together, we had all ignored her identity and almost forgotten the superhuman hearing possessed by the underground races.

“Hehe…” I wore a sly smile.

“Hehe…” Red Flame’s expression was equally sinister.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked with ill intent.

“I guess I’m thinking the same thing as you,” Red Flame answered just as slyly.

“What are they saying?” We turned to the bewildered Dark Elf at the same time and lowered our voices.

…

“Your eyes are like stars in the sky…”

“Outdated.” “So tacky.”

“Your hands are warm and smooth like jade…”

“No power.” “No creativity.”

“Your lips have ignited the flames in my heart…”

“Cheesy.” “Disgusting.”

“May I spend a wonderful night with you tonight…”

“Pfft…” “Ah-choo…” Red Flame and I sprayed all over each other’s faces.

“What’s wrong with you?” Eliot looked at us in confusion.

“You… don’t… feel… anything?” I probed her. Logically speaking, now that she had completely seen the ugly truth about the person she respected, shouldn’t she be devastated?

“What feeling? No, not at all?” She looked completely puzzled.

“Really? If you feel like crying, you can borrow my shoulder,” Red Flame said with his eyes wide open.

“Why would I cry?”

Red Flame and I looked at each other in silence.

“Are you done asking?” Eliot said.

We nodded.

“Then let me ask you one question. What does ‘spend a wonderful night together’ mean?”

“Pfft…” “Ah-pfft…” Red Flame and I could now wash our hair with ale.

“What, is that question so hard to answer?” the beautiful Dark Elf asked. I could almost be certain that the education system of the underground society was severely lacking in teachers for literature, sociology, and physiology and hygiene.

What a simple-minded girl she was. How could she have taken a fancy to a wolf in human’s clothing like Poirot?

“Ah, it’s like this. The meaning of ‘spend a wonderful night together’ is… um… according to the literal explanation… it should be… spending a… wonderful… night together, right, Red Flame.” I avoided the important point and touched on the trivial.

“Is that so? Then aren’t the four of us spending a wonderful night together every night?” Eliot’s eyes sparkled. A young waiter passed by us, heard this, and fled in shock, which made me feel so ashamed and furious that I wished I could die.

“That’s not how you explain it. It’s two people, um… the kind who are very fond of each other… like Mr. Fred and Miss Millia…” Red Flame was babbling nonsense.

“Like you and Kelsey…” I added.

“Don’t drag us into this kind of filthy business of Poirot’s.” Red Flame retorted righteously, as if dragging Fred and the others into this filthy business was perfectly natural. Then he explained in detail, “Anyway, it’s a man and a woman who have known each other for a long time, have very good feelings, and are very close… you know, that that thing.” Red Flame was deliberately vague.

“But Mr. Poirot and that young lady just met. Can they also spend a wonderful night together?”

“That’s… that’s because…” Red Flame kept signaling me with his eyes for help.

“Because he… carries the sacred mission of that… that god, and so… the god loves all people… so he can be very close with everyone,” I forced myself to cover for him.

“Oh, so that’s how it is.” The curious and simple-minded Dark Elf finally stopped asking questions. Red Flame and I together wiped the cold sweat from our foreheads.

At this moment, Poirot seemed to have successfully completed one “sacred mission.” He walked toward us while putting a key into his pocket, humming a tune with great satisfaction. As soon as he sat down, Eliot suddenly asked in a loud voice:

“Mr. Poirot, can I spend a wonderful night with you tonight?”

“Crash!” That was the sound of the three of our chairs falling over at the same time.