03: More Bandits? …Or So I Thought, but It Turned Out to Be a Grim Reaper!

It’s been a while since the elves settled into living in the forest.

Thanks to the loan that Hecate got from Papa, the construction of their new village is coming along nicely. It also seems that they’ve been able to get in touch with some of their former friends, who’ve now come to join them.

They invited me over for a visit, but I should probably get them a housewarming gift before I go.

“Arwf. (But learning that tall elf was the youngest of the group was one hell of a shock.)”

The eldest’s name is Aruru, and the next oldest is Iruru. After hearing that, I thought for a second that their names were decided by birth order, only to find out that it isn’t some sort of elf custom. These are just childish names.

They talk the way they do so others don’t look down on them. I guess there are people into the whole “older women acting immature” thing.

“Arwf, arwf! (Anyway, let’s see what’s for breakfast today!)”

I trot off to find the old man in the hope that a tasty morning meal awaits me.

“Ah, there you are.”

Today’s breakfast is a vegetable terrine.

A terrine is, roughly speaking, a Western-style jellied dish.

But it’s completely different from the Japanese-style dish. Originally the word referred to a meal in which the ingredients were cooked in a terrine dish, but this doesn’t look cooked at all.

A rectangular mold is lined with boiled cabbage, and then on top of that are layers of baby corn, asparagus, and zucchini. A thin gelatin solution made from a chicken-skin base is then poured over the whole thing.

Countless layers of vegetables and gelatin, vegetables and gelatin, until you reach the top, where the cabbage is wrapped over to form a cover.

It’s then put in a cold place to cool, and once the gelatin sets, it’s removed from the mold.

It looks just like a giant cabbage roll with angular corners, but once you cut into it you see the varied colors of the vegetables, and that’s when you know you’ve got yourself a beautiful terrine.

Well, that’s the gist of the explanation old man James was giving me as I ate.

“Awrmf wmf! (These veggies are so good! And so sweet!)”

“Crunch, crunch. (Hmm, despite being heated completely through, the vegetables still maintain their crunch and haven’t dissolved a bit. I really can’t underestimate this human cooking.)”

Len is right next to me, digging into the terrine.

The jelly filling the gaps between the vegetables results in an unusually thick umami flavor.

Just when it feels like the veggies aren’t enough to satisfy your palate, a rich broth hits your tongue, almost as if you’ve taken a sip of a hearty soup.

“Garwf, arwf! (Even though I prefer meat dishes, I can’t get enough of this stuff!)”

In my old life, I was the king of the unbalanced diet, but now I’ll eat anything. As long as old man James is the one cooking, I’ll take home the clean plate award every time.

“…………”

As we’re eating, he stares down at me. If he saw Len in her mouse form, it’d be a huge mess, so she’s hiding away in my fur. He then mutters to himself.

“Done already?”

“Woof, woof! (You bet! It was delicious!)”

Tail wagging back and forth, I bark my thanks to old man James.

“Good, good, so now that you understand how precious these vegetables are, I’ve got a question for you.”

The old man’s slender yet incredibly sturdy arms reach out, and his hands grasp my face.

“Routa. Look me in the eyes and answer truthfully.”

“Arwf?! (Wha?! Why are you suddenly angry?!)”

His intensity is as formidable as ever.

The more I’ve grown, the more ferocious my face has gotten, but the old man doesn’t flinch from it one bit.

Even though I’m a bit bigger than he is, I’m fairly sure I’d be no match for him if he was truly pissed.

Chefs are terrifying…

“A-arwf, arwf?! (Wh-wha-wha-wha-what’s this all about?! Is this because I raided the cupboards? Or is this about me taking that piece of meat from the storeroom while it was still curing?! I’m the one who secured that meat in the first place, so that was just my fair share, wasn’t it?! And it was still raw! I wasn’t even the one who ate it! I gave it all to Garo and the wolves as thanks for watching over the elf village and taking care of all the monsters! They ate every last bite, including the bones! If you’re mad about that, get mad at them! And Nahura and Len were there, too!)”

“Squeak…… (Darling, you’re the worst……)”

I hear Len’s disgusted comment from behind me, but I ignore her.

This is a matter of life and death here.

Len can only say something like that because she’s never been directly exposed to the old man’s anger like this.

It’s like being a fish on a cutting board. If I still had human sweat glands, I’d be soaked right now.

The old man is now uncomfortably close to me.

“You’ve gotten pretty large, haven’t you? Yes, you look good enough to eat…”

What’s he saying to himself?!

He’s looking at me like he’s picking out ingredients!

Oh, my lady. If the day comes that I suddenly vanish and you’re served an unfamiliar meat for dinner, it’s me. Please enjoy it, okay?

No, no, no, the old man would never do something like that.

…He wouldn’t, right? He’d never cook me, the family’s beloved pet, right?

I give the old man my best puppy-dog eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the fields, would you?”

That’s…not what I expected at all.

The old man pulls my face close and asks me something nonsensical.

“Arwf? (Huh? The fields?)”

What about ’em? I honestly have no idea where he’s going with this.

My poaching territory is mainly the kitchen and the storeroom.

I don’t even know where the fields are.

“Well, that response makes it obvious. Looks like you aren’t the culprit.”

“Arwf, arwf? (What’s up, old man? What happened to the fields?)”

The old man’s got his arms folded as he thinks, and I’m sitting in front of him, head tilted to the side.

“Welp, your nose might be of some use. Come with me.”

“Woof? (What are we doing?)”

As the old man walks off, I follow him, utterly puzzled.

I guess I don’t have any other plans.

If I did, they probably wouldn’t involve much more than a postbreakfast nap, but falling under the old man’s suspicions has me wide awake now.

And Lady Mary’s morning classes haven’t ended yet, so I don’t have anyone to play with.

The family tutor is relatively strict and won’t let me be there during classes, so we can only meet up during break and after classes are over.

And that won’t be for another three hours.

Normally I’d be enjoying my midmorning nap right about now while waiting for Zenobia to come over to sneakily pet me (or try to attack me), but today I’ll stick with the old man.

Lately I’ve been slipping away from the mansion at night, so that’s been leaving me drowsy during the day.

“Squeak. (You’re always lazing about, darling. You’re quite the deadbeat.)”

“Arwf. (Right back at you, deadbeat number two.)”

Just for the record, deadbeat number three is Zenobia.

She’s always patrolling the mansion, acting as security, but, too bad for her, there’s no one trying to harm the family.

Though that might be because there’s the King of the Fen Wolves here pretending to be a dog and a dragon pretending to be a mouse.

“Squeak. (Hmm, well then, if we’re both deadbeats, I guess that kind of makes us a couple, doesn’t it?)”

“Arwf. (Nope.)”

Instant denial.

But by that logic, wouldn’t I be including Zenobia?

Zenobia in a wedding gown…that’s a nice thought.

“Squeak. (Tch. As cold as ever, darling… No matter; that’s fine.)”

Will you stop trying to trap me into commitment? Seriously, stop.

If I don’t put my foot down with her, she immediately starts going on about marriage and babies.

“Okay, here we go.”

The old man opens the rear gate and continues down the path.

At a fork in the road we take the path on the right and continue up a small hill until we get to an open area a few minutes down the road.

“Arwf…! (Ohhh, these are the fields…!)”

They’re bigger than I thought.

A large number of vegetables are planted in neat rows. The variety is almost overwhelming.

It looks like there’s enough here to feed everyone at the mansion and then some.

This must be where the veggies in my breakfast terrine came from.

And the old man takes care of all this by himself? What a legend.

“Well, what do you think? It’s something, isn’t it?”

“Woof, woof! (This is amazing! You’re amazing!)”

Tail wagging, I sing the old man’s praises.

“Neigh. (Well now, if it isn’t Mr. Wolf. We don’t usually see you around here.)

“Arwf? (Huh? Who was that?)”

I turn in the direction of the horse’s voice.

There’s a wooden one-story bungalow standing near the fields. It’s split into separate stalls, with a pair of horse heads sticking out.

These must be the stables where the horses live. And as you’d expect of the Faulks family stables, they’re pretty impressive.

But why would these horses know me?

“Whinny? (Come now, you’re always riding behind us and you don’t even know who we are?)”

“Arwf? (Hmm? …Oh! Of course I do!)”

They’re the pair of horses who always pull the carriage whenever we go out to the lake.

But once we get to the lake, they always wait there patiently, so I never even considered the possibility that I could talk to them. I guess this body of mine can understand what regular animals say as well.

“Arwf, arwf? (Why didn’t you say anything earlier?)”

“Whicker? (Well, we couldn’t chat while we’re on the job, now, could we?)”

Ah yes, the Faulks family horses, professionals through and through.

The stables are quite large and are divided into numerous stalls, but now these are the only two living here.

“Whicker. (I guess this is the first time we’ve talked. I should introduce myself. My name’s Elusive. And this is my wife, Grace.)”

“Whinny. (Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolf.)”

The horse beside him gives a little whinny.

So they’re a couple. The brown horse is Elusive and the gray horse is Grace. Okay, got it.

“Woof, woof. (I’m Routa. And this little one is Len. Nice to meet you. Oh, and I’m not a wolf, I’m a dog. If you wouldn’t mind.)”

I plop before the lovely-coated horses and introduce myself.

“Woof. (Thanks for all the work you do pulling the carriage! …Sorry if my size makes that a bit difficult.)”

“Neigh. (Ha-ha-ha, you’ve definitely gotten heavier.)”

“Whinny. (And my husband and I are definitely getting up there in age, so it has been a bit more tiring recently.)”

“Neigh. (What are you saying, dear? I’m still in the prime of my life.)”

“Whinny. (We’re old, honey. We’re both over twenty years old now! The day we hang up our spurs is drawing ever closer.)”

Twenty years is old for horses? I guess the large body comes with a reduced life span.

Speaking of, I wonder what my life expectancy is?

What’s the average life span of a Fen Wolf, anyway? I’ll have to ask Garo next time I see her.

“Squeak. (Horses are certainly short-lived. That’s not even one-fiftieth of my age.)”

For her position atop my head, forearms crossed, Len gazes at the horses with pity.

“Woof. (Well, of course it’s different for spinsters.)”

“Squeak?! (Wh-who are you calling a spinster?! I’m still young! I’m a young maiden!)”

“Arwf. (Ha-ha-ha, don’t forget to mention you’re a thousand-year-old spinster.)”

“Squeak! (Quiet, you! Don’t call me that!)”

“Arwf! (Ouch! Don’t bite me!)”

“Squeak, squeak! (Darling, will you please let go of your reservations and commit yourself to me already?! Marry me! And then impregnate me!)”

“Woof, woof! (I said no! What do you think you’re saying to a three-month-old puppy?!)”

“Squeak! (If we’re in love, then age has nothing to do with it!)”

“Woof, woof?! (Well, what about the species difference?!)”

“Squeak! (That’s why I learned how to turn into one of those humans you’re so fond of!)”

“Woof, woof! (You were way too young! And that still doesn’t solve the species difference!)”

Rather than spending all that time on love and marriage, I’d rather just brainstorm more cute poses to get people to fawn over me.

“Hey! Routa! Catch up!”

Whoops, I got too caught up in the conversation.

Now the old man is all the way across the field.

“Arwf! (See you later, you two. I’ll come back sometime! Keep up the good work!)”

Saying good-bye to the smiling Elusive and Grace, I hurry over to the old man.

“Awrooo… (This is horrible…)”

One row of vegetables has been completely torn up.

Piles of soil are scattered about, and nothing but empty holes adorn the carefully plowed row that should be richly populated by fresh veggies.

“This is it. This is where the carrots that I’d been raising so carefully should be…”

Ah, carrots.

In my past life I had a horribly unbalanced diet and didn’t care much for vegetables, but now, thanks to the old man’s cooking, I love them.

Now I just gobble them down.

His stewed carrots are so soft they almost melt, and the flavor is so deep and sweet that it’s hard to believe he didn’t add any sugar to the dish.

“Sorry I suspected you. I didn’t really think you were the culprit, but I had to make sure.”

“Arwf. (No worries. If my field were destroyed like this, I’d be pissed, too.)”

Watering them every day. Picking bugs off the leaves. Pulling weeds and laying out fertilizer.

Farming is hard work.

Even an amateur like me knows that.

I have only the deepest respect for someone who maintains the fields while working as a chef.

Talking about thieves makes me think of our burglar elf friends, but they wouldn’t do something like this. Plus, they said something about a rule to only steal from bad people.

They should be living peacefully and building their village in the forest. And any current food needs should be covered by the funds Papa gave them. They don’t have any reason to steal food.

“So then.”

“Arwf? (Yes?)”

Now old man James is smirking.

“I want to know who stole these carrots. And of course, this affects your food stores as well. So we should be working together, right?”

“Arwf? (Eh?)”

“We’ll. Work. Together. Right?”

He draws closer to me with every word.

His smile gets closer. And scarier.

“A-arwf! (J-just leave it to me!)”

There wasn’t anything I could do but spit out an answer.

What the heck?!

I just want to get back to my lazy dog life of eating and sleeping!

But it seems things are getting crazy again!

“Okay then, I’m counting on you!”

And with that, old man James went back home.

Leaving behind his pitifully destroyed field, a dog (not really), and a mouse (also not really).

I don’t really want to work, but I am a bit concerned about the case of the old man’s missing veggies.

Now that I’ve learned the wonders of vegetables, I can’t imagine life without them.

So I guess I’ll have to put forth a little effort in order to catch our vegetable thief.

“Squeak? (Darling, he said to search for the culprit, but how should we go about it?)

“Woof. (If we’re conducting an investigation, we gotta start by interviewing witnesses.)”

What’s going to solve this case won’t be some detective reasoning but good ol’-fashioned police work.

Just like a buddy cop show. No doubt.

And I know just the pair to question.

There should be some witnesses right nearby.

“Woof, woof! (Hey, you two!)”

“Neigh. (Well, if it isn’t Routa. Back already?)”

Back at the stables I give a rundown of the situation to Elusive and Grace.

I tell them about the torn-up carrot patch and how the old man left the investigation to me.

“Whinny. (Well, we knew about the carrot patch being destroyed. Mr. James was yelling about it this morning.)”

I can easily picture the old man yelling, “What the hell is thiiis?!”

“Squeak? (And when was that?)”

“Neigh. (That was at daybreak. His yelling actually woke us up. And there wasn’t anyone here until at least as late as we went to bed last night.)”

Which means our culprit was here sometime during the night.

“Squeak? (And of course you two aren’t responsible, right?)”

“Neigh. (Of course not. We’d have no reason to steal vegetables. We’re always properly fed.)”

“Whinny. (Certainly we eat some carrots, but only the ones that have been culled for being too thin. Though they’re still very tasty.)”

“Whinny. (We have a long history of serving the Faulks family. We would never pilfer food. That would be very poor manners.)”

Okay. That’s enough. That’s starting to cut a little deep.

Welp, I don’t have a long history as the Faulks family pet. And I’ve definitely stolen food. I’m sorry.

But when I’m hungry I’ve got no choice.

With this growing body of mine, three meals a day plus snacks just isn’t enough.

Plus, Nahura and Len were right there eating next to me.

Len doesn’t eat a lot, but Nahura eats so much it makes you wonder where she’s putting it all.

Another mystery for the formerly dead homunculus.

“Squeak. (Of course. I had to ask, but I apologize for making it seem like we suspected you.)”

Len offers a polite apology to the couple professing their innocence.

She may be proud, but thankfully she’s not arrogant.

She’ll admit her mistakes and is kind to basically everyone.

If she weren’t an ancient, cradle-robbing dragon, she’d actually be prime wife material.

Unfortunately, her negatives greatly outweigh her positives. Poor thing.

“Arwf. (Looks like our investigation was a bust. Guess we’ll have to go back to check out the scene of the crime.)”

Time for this super-wolf body of mine to be put to work.

Sniff sniff.

Ah, sniff sniff.

My nose is buried in the ravaged vegetable patch as I try to sniff out a scent.

“Squeak? (Well? Have you found anything?)” Len asks from atop my head, her tiny eyes staring into mine.

“Arwf! (Oh! I got something!)”

“Squeak! (I always believed in you, darling! What is it?)”

“Arwf! (I’ve found out that I haven’t found anything!)”

“Squeak? (……Do you want me to bite you?)”

“A-arwf, arwf! (W-wait, wait! It was a joke! And look, maybe we don’t need a scent to follow.)”

Looking carefully next to the empty row of vegetables, I see a set of footprints.

The footprints are U-shaped, so I guess hoofprints would be more accurate.

And they’re also clearly much larger than anything that would be left by Elusive or Grace.

“Squeak? (Do you think a wild horse got in somehow?)”

“Arwf. (Looks like that may be the case.)”

Garo and the Fen Wolves only hunt monsters that do harm to the forest, so it wouldn’t really surprise me if wild horses also live in there somewhere.

“Arwf. (Well, I guess we should follow the tracks.)”

Whoever made these hoofprints didn’t use the path after eating the carrots and destroying the field but headed straight back toward the forest.

But from what I can tell of the hoofprints, our target should be huge, and the prints are oddly shallow.

If it was a giant horse, I’d expect these hoofprints to be a lot deeper…

Following the tracks, I step into the forest.

Because the area is so densely wooded, even with the sun up, it’s still remarkably dim.

The tracks continue deeper inside, and I continue following them.

“Arwf… (Hmm…)”

As the forest opens up into a small clearing, I come to a halt.

This clearing is the only spot in the forest that receives full sunlight.

“Squeak? (What is it, darling? Why did you stop?)”

“Woof. (The tracks disappeared.)”

“Squeak? (They’ve disappeared?)”

“Woof. (Yep, they just…stop here.)”

They vanish without a trace.

The scent is gone, too.

All traces of our culprit are gone, as though they never existed.

“Bark. (Now, don’t get scared.)”

I thought we were playing detective, but without realizing it, I’ve become the star of my own horror movie, and an indescribable fear has my hackles on edge.

A ghost. This is the sign of a ghost.

And what’s even more terrifying is that ghosts might be a regular occurrence in this fantasy world.

“Arwf. (Hey, Len.)”

“Squeak? (What is it?)”

“Arwf. (Let’s get out of here.)”

“Squeak? (Whatever for?)”

“Arwf? (What, you can’t tell? Obviously because this is terrifying.)”

This is one of my faults.

When it comes to horror, I’m no good with gore, but ghosts and ghouls are just as bad.

“Squeak? (How can you say that with such confidence? …Sigh, how pitiful. You’re King of the Fen Wolves, and without even knowing what you’re facing, you’re going to turn tail and run. And yet you managed to defeat me…)”

“Woof. (Okay, well, you can stay here. We don’t know when our culprit will be back, after all.)”

“S-squeak?! (Wh-what?!)”

“Woof. (If you’re not scared, that’s fine. But this pitiful little puppy is going home. My bed awaits.)”

“S-squeak! (Y-you’d leave a defenseless maiden alone in a place like this?! You’re the worst! Of course I’d be scared if I was left alone here!)”

“Woof, woof?! (Weak?! You’re a dragon!! And you’re no maiden, you’re a hag! A thousand-year-old spinster!)”

“Squeak, squeak! (Quiet, you! I told you not to call me that! It sounds so horribly unpleasant!)”

After arguing the whole way home, we decide to take another stab at the investigation that evening with Nahura in tow.

I-it’s not just because we thought it would be too spooky at night and wanted the extra company. Definitely not.

“Mrow? (A ghost?)”

“Woof. (Yes.)”

“Squeak. (Exactly.)”

At midnight we met up with Nahura and explained the field situation to her.

We told her about the torn-up carrot patch, the mysterious hoofprints, and following those tracks into the forest, where they suddenly vanished into thin air.

As she listened to our fears, Nahura began snickering.

“Mew. (I can’t believe it. You two actually believe in ghosts? Of course ghosts aren’t real. Pfft.)”

“Woof! (Hey!)”

“Squeak! (Hey!)”

Seeing Nahura raise her paws to her face in an attempt to hide a big Cheshire grin is really pissing me off.

“Woof? (Aren’t you practically a ghost yourself, Ms. Former Corpse?)”

“Squeak? (What’s that? I haven’t heard this story.)”

“Mew, mew. (I’m a homunculus made from the corpse of a cat. I’m a high-performance familiar that my mistress made by bringing together the genius of various scholars. Please don’t lump me in with ghosts, which have no scientific basis at all.)”

“S-squeak! (Th-that’s incredible!)”

Len’s showering Nahura with praise while Nahura puffs her chest out with pride.

With all the magic she’s been flinging around, I wonder what Len thought Nahura was? Just a regular gluttonous, alcoholic, worthless cat? Well, I guess that’s not too far off.

“Woof. (Anyway, tonight we’re keeping watch in the fields. Let’s go.)”

And with that, I set off toward our destination.

Len and Nahura both settle down on my back.

“Bark. (Hey, you two do have legs, you know.)”

“Mewl. (Oh, but Routa, your back is just so comfortable.)”

“Squeak. (And it’s not like we weigh that much, so stop complaining. What do you have to complain about with two beautiful women on top of you?)”

Maybe the fact that you’re both animals?

I’ll say it again for emphasis. You are both animals!

And “beautiful”? If we were strangers, I wouldn’t even know if you were guys or girls.

Also, I bet Nahura hasn’t taken a bath recently, because she smells wild.

What do you think will happen to me if I go back to my lady’s bed smelling like an animal?

And, bickering as we always do, the three of us head off to the fields.

Looks like Elusive and Grace have already retired for the night.

The quiet stable is dimly lit by an ore lamp.

We quietly creep past the stables, so as not to disturb the sleeping horses, and settle into a patch of grass near the fields.

“Woof. (Your turn, Nahura.)”

“Mew? (What?)”

“Woof. (I’m leaving the next shift to you. I’m going to sleep.)”

“Squeak. (Well then, I’ll sleep as well. If you see anything, do let us know, Nahura.)”

“M-mew?! (Wh-what?! That’s not fair!)”

Don’t both of you eat and sleep more than me during the day?

Meanwhile, I’m busy playing with my lady, assisting the old man with odd jobs, and helping Toa the twin-tailed maid hang up the laundry.

It’s time for me to make up for my chronic sleep deprivation.

“Mew… (You’re all too familiar with working this familiar to death…)”

Familiar with working a familiar? That’s a new one.

“Mew! (Ah! Routa, Routa!)”

“Arwf?! (What?! Are they already here?!)”

I raise my head from my paws.

“Mew! (Look! Look at this weird bug!)”

“Woof, woof! (Don’t interrupt my sleep for something like that!)”

Nahura’s got something that looks like a rhinoceros beetle caught between her front paws.

I rearrange myself and try to settle back down to sleep.

“Squeak! (Darling! Darling!)”

“Arwf? (Come on now. Is this just another weird bug?)”

“Squeak! (That’s not it! It’s here! Our thief!)”

Looking in the direction Len is pointing from her place atop my head, I see a flickering firelight approaching the fields.

“Arwf…? (A torch? Does that mean our thief is a human?)”

There aren’t any villages nearby, so whoever it is has to have purposefully come out this far.

All to steal the family’s vegetables. What a jackass.

I think it’s time to give them a bit of a scare with my trusty wolf face.

Without a sound I dash over toward the flickering torchlight.

“Grwwl, grwwl! (Hey, you! This is my turf! No trespassing! Get outta here! And don’t come back!)”

I jump into the torchlight, where I can be seen, and give a mighty howl.

“Ar-ar-ar-arooo?! (What’s the matter?! Too scared to speak?!)”

Well, this would be a shock.

If a giant wolf suddenly appeared in front of me like this, I’m sure I’d faint in an instant.

And, of course, piss myself.

“…………”

I’m realizing that whoever is holding this torch is way too quiet.

Did they really just faint standing up?

I’ve been so focused on the flame that I didn’t get a good look at the person carrying it.

Squinting as hard as I can, I take a good look at them.

“Arwf……? (Hmm……?)”

That’s…not a person.

It’s a horse. A horse is here.

But it’s no ordinary horse.

Its mane and tail are alight with a spectral flame, and its eyes shine bloodred.

From their lofty position, the rectangular pupils look down at me. The moment our eyes meet, the flames of its mane flare up violently.

The force of the flames is so strong that the hide of the burning horse appears transparent in its light.

But beneath the hide isn’t muscle—just bare, fleshless bones.

In the face of this terrifying sight, only one reaction seems appropriate—

“Ee-eeeek!! (A-a ghost!!)”

Without thinking, I grab Nahura from my back and hold her in front of me as a shield.

“Meeeeww!! (N-nooooooo!!)”

The moment I grab Nahura, she, in turn, grabs Len and shoves her forward.

“Squeeeeak!! (Wait, don’t do it!!)”

Having nothing to shield herself with, Len just screams at the burning skeletal horse.

Seeing this, the horse, who was frozen until Len screamed, rears up, half-crazed, on its hind legs.

“Neeeeeeeeigh!! (A-a ghost?! I hate ghosts!!)”

“““WoofMrowSqueak!! (We’re talking about youuuuuu!!)”””

The cries of four animals ring across the darkened fields.

“Neigh?! Neeeeeeigh?! (A ghost?! Where’s the ghost?!)”

The occasionally transparent burning horse is still panicking, whinnying, rearing, and foaming at the mouth.

“““………………”””

Meanwhile, we’ve calmed down and continue to watch it.

It’s a classic example of the phenomenon whereby you get really calm after seeing someone else freaking out a little too much.

This guy is a legit ghost, and yet I’m not scared at all. It’s probably because he’s a total coward. I just can’t see him doing anything evil.

This goes on for a minute or so before finally the horse’s panic starts to subside.

“Wh-whinny…? (…Ummm, where’s the ghost…?)”

Now that it finally realizes things have calmed down, the intensity of the horse’s flames begins to lessen, but it still seems uncertain.

“Woof. (Well, we thought that you were the ghost.)”

“N-neeeeeeigh?! (A-a wolf?!)”

“Woof?! (You just noticed that?!)”

Whatever, just please calm down.

“Whinny! (Don’t eat me! Please don’t eat me!)”

I’m not going to eat you.

I’m a pampered pooch. I only eat cooked meat.

That being said, horse sashimi is delicious…

Especially with some thick, sweet soy sauce and a bit of grated ginger.

And after your tongue is coated with the fat of the meat, you wash it down with a swig of dry shochu on the rocks…

“…Drool. (Whoops, I’m drooling.)”

“Neeeeigh!! (N-noooooooo!! I knew it! You are going to eat meeee!!)”

“Woof, woof. (Oh shoot, I’m sorry. I’m not going to eat you, please calm down.)”

I try to calm the horse as it starts to get worked up again.

“Squeak? (Say, darling, isn’t this our thief? Why don’t we just end this with me eating it? I could change back, and it would only take one bite.)”

“Woof. (Don’t say disturbing things like that. It’s innocent until proven guilty. And I just promised it that we wouldn’t eat it, so let’s hear what it has to say first.)”

And old man James did say he just wanted to know who the culprit was.

He didn’t say anything about capturing or punishing them.

This horse may look terrifying, but it talks normally. Once it calms down and explains what’s going on, we might understand the situation.

If it doesn’t settle down, we can’t do anything.

We wait for the horse’s panic to subside.

But something’s off. If it’s this scared, why didn’t it just run off?

More patient waiting.

Len curls up on my head, and Nahura starts grooming herself.

And so we wait for a while again.

“Wh-whinny (U-ummm…… I’m sorry. I just, I get startled easily……)”

Speaking hesitantly, the horse has finally calmed down once again.

“Bark. (We’re not going to attack you; don’t be so worried.)”

“Neigh… (But you were just drooling, Mr. Wolf… And that mouse, it blatantly said it was going to eat me…)”

“Squeak. (I’m not a mouse. I’m an elder dragon,)” Len boasts as she stands.

“Wh-whinny?! (A-a dragon?! Dragons are scary!!)”

Not again.

We just started talking. Could you not interrupt, please?

I give my head a shake to dislodge Len.

Right toward where Nahura is sitting at the base of my tail.

“Mew. (Well, hello there.)”

Nahura snags Len out of the air.

This guy’s the type to be afraid of mice, so it’ll be best to simply hide Len for now.

Though I think a dragon is way scarier than a mouse.

“Squeak! (Hey! You two have been very rude toward me recently!)”

Don’t worry, there’s nothing “recent” about it. We’ve been treating you like this from the very beginning.

I ignore Len’s squeaking protest, coming from where she’s trapped, in Nahura’s front paws.

I need to keep the horse talking.

“Woof, woof. (I’m Routa. I’m not a wolf; I’m a dog. This cat is Nahura. And Lenowyrm over there is a mouse who thinks she’s a dragon.)”

“Squeak, squeak?! (What?! What do you mean ‘thinks’?! I am a dragon! I’m a real dragon!)”

“Arwf. (She’s a little touched in the head. Forgive her.)”

“Neigh… (Ohhh, poor thing…)”

The horse gives Len a look full of pity.

“Squeak! (Listen to me!)”

“Mew. (Please calm down, Lady Len. There, there.)”

The furious Len is trying to struggle out of Nahura’s grasp.

She could easily prove herself by revealing her dragon form, but we’re too close to the mansion.

Figuring this was going to turn into a troublesome situation, I told Len to refrain from transforming before we got out here.

As soon as I hammered home the point that she’d never get to taste the old man’s cooking again if she was discovered, she immediately acquiesced.

Thus, she can’t turn into a dragon. So she should just calm down and wait patiently.

“Whinny… (Poor little mouse…)”

“Squeak?! (You’re pitying me?!)”

The shock at being pitied by this horse shows all over Len’s face.

“Squeak… (B-but I am a dragon… I really am… I’m not just saying things…)”

“Mewl. (Shh. Stop interrupting the conversation, Lady Len. Would you like some cheese?)”

“Squeak… (Sniffle… Yes, please…)”

Nahura retrieves a piece of cheese from parts unknown and gives it to Len.

Len’s nose is trembling, and she looks on the verge of tears.

This elder spinster dragon really has low mental fortitude.

Now that the person who was interrupting the conversation is quiet, I turn back to the horse.

“Woof? (So what’s your deal? You don’t look like an ordinary horse.)”

“Neigh?! (Huh? I’m a horse?!)”

“Arwf?! (Seriously?!)”

Another case of having to start with explaining what someone is.

How can this horse not know it’s a horse?

Oh, actually, I guess I’m the same way.

I’m a giant wolf pretending to be a dog.

Guess I don’t have a leg to stand on.

“Whinny… (I see. So I’m a horse… No wonder I like carrots so much…)”

Well, that was incriminating. Looks like we’ve found our culprit.

But the more I talk to it, the less it seems like some evil monster.

It’s way different from those evil goblins or that angry boar I fought before.

Its outward form is larger than any standard horse’s, but it seems to have the mind of a child.

“Whinny… (I-I’m sorry. I really can’t remember anything…)”

“Bark? (You can’t remember anything? Like amnesia?)”

Amnesia strong enough to make you forget you’re a horse—wow.

Maybe that childishness stems from a lack of memories.

“Neigh. (I was starving and wandering through the forest when I smelled something delicious… I didn’t know they belonged to you. I’m sorry.)”

“Woof. (Well, they’re not really ours. But you’re causing trouble for the person who manages these fields, so you can’t just go off eating things.)”

I get that this horse isn’t a bad guy, but what am I supposed to do with a giant amnesiac monster horse?

I’m sure that if I introduced him to the old man, he’d apologize, but if old man James saw a horse that’s clearly a monster of some sort, he’d die of shock.

……Or would he?

He might just look at him as a meal and be glad for the generous portions.

Old man James is definitely the scariest one among us.

Not to mention that in order to protect my peaceful pet life, I need everyone in the mansion to keep believing that this is a pleasant area without a single monster living in the forest.

So it’s not as simple as just sending this guy back to the forest.

“Squeak— (Which is why I said the fastest way to deal with this is—)”

“Woof. (And I said we’re not doing that.)”

As always, Len’s proposed retribution goes way overboard.

She’s kind to friends but has no sympathy for enemies. I guess that’s part of being a dragon.

But eating someone just because they ate some carrots is taking it too far.

I may have to teach Len how to be a pet again.

“Woof? (Len, Nahura, does either of you have any idea what species of monster this guy is?)”

“Squeak? (Ummm… Some sort of…burning horse?)”

“Mew. (Well, he’s clearly a type of spirit, but I don’t know the specific species. I expect Mistress would know.)”

“Woof. (Ah, that’s true. Let’s ask Hecate.)”

I forgot about our neighborhood witch of many talents.

She’s the one person who knows all our true forms and situations and will probably lend a hand if we ask.

“Mew… (No, actually, Mistress has been extraordinarily busy…)”

“Woof? (Oh, really?)”

I guess the guild’s keeping her busy, what with the whole mess with the elves and the slave trader.

Nahura gives an evasive answer.

“Mew. (Recently, she’s been holed up in her workshop. She even ordered me not to contact her telepathically.)”

“Bark… (Well, if she’s that busy, we…we probably shouldn’t bother her…)”

Speaking of, I haven’t seen her even once since we came back from our trip to the city.

I should invite her to come over once she’s free again. We’re friends, after all. And Lady Mary would love to see her.

I’m really interested in whatever she’s got going on that has her locked away in her workshop.

But right now, we’ve got to deal with this horse.

And it’s looking like we’re going to have to do it ourselves.

“Grr…? (What’re we gonna do with you…?)”

As I mull over the possibilities, the horse suddenly falls over with a thud.

“W-woof (Wh-what are you doing?)”

“N-neigh… (I’m just so hungry…)”

Hungry enough to collapse?

But I can’t let it eat what’s in the fields, and I guess the leaves around us are no good.

“Neigh! (Hey, Routa!)”

“Whinny! (Bring that little one over here!)”

The sound of whinnying comes from the stables.

It’s Elusive and Grace. The uproar earlier must have woken them up.

“Woof, woof. (Come on, get up, horse. Some other horses—though I guess other doesn’t really apply in this situation—are calling us.)”

“Neigh… (Okay…)”

Elusive and Grace have been helping us with this whole investigation. This will at least be a temporary solution as we tell them what we’ve discovered.

I just hope they aren’t too surprised when they see this giant, burning, see-through horse.

As I lead the swaying horse into the barn, Elusive sticks his head out of his stall.

“Whinny. (Go ahead and eat some of this fodder.)”

Elusive grabs a chunk of grass wrapped in netting from the wall and passes it over.

“Woof? (Are you sure? Isn’t this your portion?)”

“Whinny. (We’ve both had our fill. It’ll get replenished tomorrow anyway.)”

I offer thanks to the pair and then drop the feed in front of the burning horse.

“Woof. (Lucky you. Um…by the way, I don’t suppose you know your own name?)”

“N-neigh! (F-food! Food!)”

“Woof! (Pay attention!)”

The horse has shoved its head into the feed bag and begins wolfing down the contents.

“Munch munch! (This is delicious! So good! Thank you, mister! Thank you, ma’am!)”

“Whinny. (That’s all well and good, but do slow down.)”

“Whinny. (Don’t worry; that’s all for you. So take your time and enjoy it.)”

Elusive is looking a little nervous about the situation, while Grace is looking at the new horse with kindness in her eyes.

I’m a bit worried myself that the flames from the horse’s tail are going to spread to the barn.

The couple seems to be taking this all pretty well. More of that obliviousness? I guess they are members of the Faulks family.

“Mew? (What was that, Routa?)”

Nahura, who resumed grooming herself as the horse fixated on eating, lifts her head.

“Arwf? (Huh? I didn’t say anything. Did you, Len?)”

“Squeak. (Wasn’t me… This feed isn’t very good. Not to my taste at all.)”

Len throws away the piece of feed she’s been nibbling at.

“Bark? (Maybe you were just hearing things?)”

“Mew. (It must have come from outside. I swear I heard what sounded like someone talking.)”

Huh? Maybe it’s the old man?

Whether it’s him or someone else from the mansion, we can’t let them see this crazy horse.

“Woof! (Nahura, Len, I’ll go buy some time. You two do something to hide this horse!)”

“Mew? (What? How do you expect us to do that?!)”

“Squeak? (Can’t we just use your spatial magic?)”

“Mew! (Ohhh, nice idea, Lady Len. Very clever!)”

“Squeak. (Exactly. I am very clever.)”

Nahura sings her praises, and Len’s head swells.

Despite my anxiousness, I go flying out of the barn to buy us some time.

“Arwf! (Hey, I don’t know who’s out there, but try to resist my adorable pose!)”

Whether it’s the old man or one of the maids, come at me!

I tuck into a front roll, flipping over onto my back and ending in a full-body pet-me pose.

“Ha-ha-ha… (Come on, aren’t I cute?! Pet me, rub me! Come on! …Wait, what?)”

There’s no response to my adorable display.

And there’s no one coming from the direction of the mansion.

Instead there’s a human figure, covered in a tattered cloak, limping its way out of the forest.

“I’ve found you… Nightmare… Why would you run from our master to come to a place like this…?”

It’s a gloomy voice that sounds like it comes straight from a deep, dark abyss.

“A-arwf?! (Who are you?! And who’s Nightmare?! There’s no one like that here!)”

“…Reveal yourself, Nightmare…”

The cloak-covered figure ignores me and raises what it’s carrying.

In its hand is a giant scythe.

The handle is long, and the blade is huge. It has an ominous shape, as though it could reap human souls as easily as stalks of rice.

And at the same time, I see the face lurking below the figure’s hood.

It’s a skull.

No muscle, no flesh—just a terrifying skull.

“E-eeeek?! (Another ghost appeared?!)”

Due to the sheer terror of the sight, I piss myself while in my submissive pose.

The yellow liquid sketches a parabolic arc in the air, coming down to land on the cloak of the skeleton.

The warm fluid soaks into the cloak.

“A-arwf. (Ahhh, my bad.)”

“……Die.”

The skeleton doesn’t hesitate.

Scythe raised high over my belly, the skeleton ruthlessly swings it downward, splitting it right in two.

The scythe, that is.

The giant blade spins off with a hum.

The scythe blade, which was expected to tear into my exposed stomach, snapped off at the hilt and vanished into the tall grass.

“………………What…?”

The skeleton is staring at its scythe handle, dumbfounded, and my urine goes back to soaking its robe.

Did you know?

Big dogs pee for a really long time. Sometimes they take minutes.

And I’m a giant wolf, larger than a small cow.

It’s like a hose with the water pressure on full blast.

It just keeps coming and coming.

My lukewarm stream relentlessly seeps into the skeleton’s cloak.

The now mildly drenched cloak is sticking to the bones, revealing the thin frame of the skeleton.

While peeing, I couldn’t help but think how uncomfortable this must be if the bones have nerves in them.

“Arwf… (That’s… It’s just… I’m so sorry.)”

As I try to apologize again, the sound of laughter floats out of the stables.

“Mrow! (Pffft! Peeing on someone as soon as you meet them! How many more times are you going to do that? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!)”

Nahura is rolling around in stitches, paws clasped to her stomach.

“Squeak. (Ha-ha-ha, how magnificent. That’s just like you, darling!)”

Why is Len laughing about this?

She’s bragging like she did it herself.

“Squeak. (Mr. Skull, I apologize on behalf on my darling.)”

With a cheerful laugh, Len calls out to the skeleton.

But then her eyes narrow.

“Squeak. (…That said, for the crime of raising that blade, the sentence is death.)”

As soon as she says this with a cold, ruthless voice, Len’s small tail becomes massive in an instant.

The tail is long and thick like a steel whip and is clad in giant scales.

Only her tail reverted to dragon form—or, rather, shed its mouse form.

The tail is so large compared to her mouse body that it looks like it’s springing directly out of the ground.

Wouldn’t the weight of the tail crush the body?

As I’m puzzling over this, the giant tail accelerates into a blur.

“Squeak. (Repent of your sins and die.)”

There isn’t a chance to stop her.

The swinging dragon tail breaks the sound barrier, flashes over me, and smashes sideways through the skeleton.

With a dry poof the skeleton explodes, spreading bone dust across the night sky.

It’s been smashed into smithereens.

The extreme scale and speed of that attack completely removed any existence of the skeleton.

And the terror of such an attack whistling over my head has finally stilled my peeing.

And caused my balls to retract.

“Squeak. (Hmph, how vulgar. Swinging a blade at my darling? Unforgivable.)”

Breathing heavily, Len declares her victory.

Y-yaaay…

I can really feel Len’s love for me.

It’s so strong.

I’m so happy.

Blech.

I can’t do anything but give a wry laugh.

“Squeak. (See, darling? If anyone ever tries to harm you, I will destroy them completely and utterly.)”

“A-arwf. (Th-Thanks. You saved me. But we’re still not a couple, okay? Can you stop trying to get that established as a fact?)”

She may be mentally weak, but physically she’s top class.

I better do everything in my power to stay on her good side.

I really don’t want to see her lovesick-to-the-point-of-violence side, so maybe it’s time to hold off on teasing her for a while.

“……Futile……”

We hear the voice of the supposedly dead skeleton.

“This body was given to me by the Ruler of the Dead… So long as it retains his magic…I will continue to be restored…”

Who’s this Ruler of the Dead?

Another person I’ve never heard of.

No, wait, I feel like I have heard that name before.

Wasn’t it in that book my lady was reading?

The source of the information aside, if this guy is the minion of that Ruler of the Dead guy, does he really have infinite lives?

But as he said, he’s starting to re-form from the feet up.

That’s one heck of a rebuild time. It looks like even the scythe is being re-formed.

At this pace he’ll be back in a matter of seconds.

“Woof, woof?! (What do we do?! What do we do?! Limitless respawns is a total cheat! This guy’s cheating!)”

“Heh-heh-heh… I’ll not fail again. I shall reap all of your souls…”

The half-rebuilt skull of the skeleton rattles and laughs.

“Squeak. (Hmph, is that so? Then try this on for size.)”

The skeleton is hammered again by the merciless dragon tail.

With a smashing sound, the skeleton is flattened into the ground.

“A-arwf? (Eh, um, wait, Len?)”

Len’s remorseless attack without consideration for the situation has me trembling.

I mean, the skeleton was just starting his monologue.

Don’t you have the decency to let him finish?!

“F-futile……”

Just as the powdered bones start to re-form, the dragon tail smashes them from above again.

“F-futile……”

Smash.

“Futi……”

Crunch.

“Fu……”

Whomp.

“…………”

Shatter.

Crash. Thwack.

Smash. Crunch. Whomp. Shatter.

Wallop. Crash. Thwack. Thrash. Crunch. Smash.

As if she were hammering a nail into a piece of wood, Len continues to flatten the skeleton.

How many minutes have passed?

I can’t even hear the groans of the skeleton now.

Len lifts her tail from the depression in the ground.

The remnants are so mixed in with the soil that I can’t tell what is and isn’t bone anymore.

“Squeak. (Hmph, that was easy.)”

“A-arwf… (I—I don’t think it’s moving anymore…)”

“Squeak, squeak. (It said it couldn’t die so long as it had magic remaining, which means that there’s a limit. So if it doesn’t die, I just have to keep killing it until it does.)”

Well…that’s one way to get the job done.

Len’s scary.

I normally only see her weepy mouse form, but she’s actually terrifying.

“Woof? (But what did he want? I’m assuming the Nightmare he mentioned was that idiot horse. And who’s this Ruler of the Dead guy?)”

There are too many monsters in this forest.

And for a thousand years, none of them leaked out.

The Fen Wolves are way too efficient.

“Arwf… (Hmm, Ruler of the Dead…)”

That definitely sounds like the name of a boss character.

If there’s someone in there like that, I’m sure Garo and the other wolves will take care of it.

I should go ask them about it. They’re the best source of info about the forest.

This was just supposed to be about finding whoever was raiding the fields, but I think it’s turning into something much larger.

“Woof… (No, no, this is all for my comfortable, slacker dog life. I just have to work a bit harder…)”

I could worry myself sick about the contradiction of working for the sake of not working, but I think I’ll just ignore it instead.

I already experienced all that back when I was a wage slave!

I don’t wanna relive those dark days!

“Mew? (But, Routa, isn’t that putting the cart before the horse?)”

“Bark! (Don’t say it! Let me have my delusions!)”

And to the familiar tune of our bickering, the spatial magic whisks us away to pick up our horse.