Chapter 99 - Rumors (1)

A magical device that could identify an evil spirit's soul?

Just one second ago, I hadn't imagined I would find myself in this situation.

But...

'Whatever the case, nothing changes.'

I dismissed the questions born of mere curiosity. Did he know something? Or was this really just a coincidence?

If I couldn't be certain, the right move was to assume the worst and act accordingly. The old man suspected me.

In that case, what should I do right now?

"... A magical device?"

I frowned at the old man, as though the words "magical device" bothered me more than "evil spirit." As though that explained the brief silence just now.

"... You're sure it's safe?"

I gave him a distrustful look. After all, I was a barbarian who knew nothing about magic. I'd seen countless suspicious-looking magical devices in Raven's laboratory.

'This should be the right reaction.'

Having made my split-second judgment, I acted on it. Now it was the old man's turn.

"Hmm."

The old man studied me with a meaningful look, then changed his expression and spoke.

"Hoho, you don't trust me? Me, the master of the Altemion School?"

I looked at him as if to ask whether he really needed me to spell it out. He clicked his tongue.

"Tsk. What do you take me for? Don't worry. Allu will verify that the device is harmless to the human body."

"... What? Me?"

"It's hardly difficult, is it?"

"Well, yes... If it's just checking what formulas went into the device..."

Her school's master, or a barbarian she'd known for three months. It was obvious whom Raven would prioritize, so that assurance was hard to trust.

But...

'Whatever excuse I give to refuse, I'll only be falling for his ploy.'

Listening to their exchange, I became certain. I had no idea where I'd left a clue, but the old man suspected me. Fortunately, he didn't seem certain yet, considering he was probing me with a nonexistent magical device.

'Probably... There's no such device.'

I pushed aside my anxiety and assessed the evidence with cold reason.

A magical device that identified evil spirits? Nothing like that had existed for thousands of years. As civilization advanced, it wouldn't be strange for something like it to emerge someday, but...

'Even so, there's no way this old man would be its first inventor.'

The Altemion School was an orthodox school of magic. Its research focused on things like developing new spells rather than niche subjects like dimensions and souls.

And a mage like that had made an evil-spirit detector?

'If he really had something like that, he'd have tricked me into sitting in front of it somehow, instead of testing the waters like this.'

At last, I reached my final conclusion. There was no evil-spirit detector. The old man just wanted to see my reaction.

Therefore—

"Well, what will you do? There's no danger, and it won't take long either."

"... It won't take long?"

"About five minutes should do."

"Well, in that case."

I accepted the old man's proposal, as though I was a little uneasy but saw no harm in it as long as it ended quickly.

Had my decision surprised him?

"... Are you really all right with this?"

Now he was the one questioning me. That reaction erased even the last trace of my anxiety. I calmly asked him in return.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be?"

"... Weren't you worried it might be dangerous?"

"Didn't you say she'd check that for me!"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Let's get going. I'm tired from getting up early. I want to go back and finish sleeping!"

Fuck, who did this old bastard think he was trying to fool?

* * *

"He's gone..."

In the laboratory Bjorn had left behind, Raven let out a deep sigh at her master's oddly hollow murmur.

She couldn't make sense of this situation at all. A magical device that identified evil spirits? She'd never even heard that her master was researching such a thing, and...

"What was that about?"

"..."

"Don't just sit there. Are you really not going to tell me?"

At her master's instruction, she'd had to prove to Bjorn that the magical device was safe. It hadn't been difficult. The device her master brought out and called an evil-spirit detector had no magical formulas in it at all.

It was nothing but an odd-looking chair.

["Don't say anything. Just play along."]

She'd kept that fact to herself at her master's command. Now it was time to hear the truth.

Of course, she had a guess. She wasn't that oblivious.

"... Don't tell me you thought Mr. Jandel was an evil spirit? Is that why you kept asking me what happened in the Labyrinth?"

Her master neither confirmed nor denied it. But sometimes silence was the clearest answer of all.

"Haah... So are your suspicions cleared up now?"

"... Yes. I was mistaken."

"I can't say I don't understand how you felt, Master. He is unusual. But there's one thing I'm curious about, and I really want you to answer this."

At her further questioning, her master asked weakly,

"... What is it?"

"Why did you do it? If you suspected he was an evil spirit, you could have just tipped off secret Public Security and let them handle it—"

"He would die if I did that."

It was a quiet murmur.

"What? What do you mean—"

"Enough. I'm tired. I'll be going now. Please tidy up for me."

Her master lifted his small, aged body from his seat. Then he left with an uncharacteristically subdued gait.

Alone in the laboratory, she mulled over his parting words.

'He would die if he did that...?'

In other words, didn't that mean he needed a living evil spirit?

'Master, what exactly do you want?'

She couldn't shake her misgivings.

* * *

THUMP!

Back at my lodgings, I collapsed straight onto the bed. It felt like the morning had drained every bit of energy from me. I wanted to get some shut-eye, but...

'He really caught me off guard, springing that on me without any warning.'

I relaxed my tense body and took some time to review what had happened today. I didn't seem to have made any mistakes. Even in hindsight, I'd handled it pretty well. I'd assumed the worst, but used the available clues to keep myself from making endless leaps of logic. That had allowed me to deduce the best answer.

'Judging by his expression at the end, it looks like the old man's completely dropped his suspicions too.'

It had come out of nowhere, but things had worked out. There was just one thing that didn't quite add up. When the old man became certain I wasn't an evil spirit, he'd looked somehow disappointed.

Why?

'... Well, that's not my problem.'

After thinking it over briefly, I cleared my head. There was no way to find the answer, and whatever the reason, I'd judged it had no direct bearing on my safety.

'Still, that's a bit of a relief.'

I'd dealt with some bullshit first thing in the morning. Ironically, though, the incident had given me a strange sense of relief. It should have offset some of the luck stacks that had been piling sky-high lately—

"Bjorn! Wake up, nyah! It's broad daylight, how long are you going to sleep, nyah!"

Had I fallen asleep without realizing it? I opened my eyes to find Misha shaking me. I hadn't slept with the door open; apparently she'd used the spare key I'd given her recently.

'I gave her that for emergencies...'

"Misha, why are you here? I told you I was going to the Magic Tower today."

"You got back late last night, nyah. I thought I'd wake you if you were still asleep, nyah!"

Hmm, if that was why... I could reconsider taking the spare key back later.

"Oh, but how did you know I got back late? Don't tell me you waited for me?"

"You promised to tell me what happened there when you got back, nyah. Besides, I didn't wait long, so don't worry about it, nyah."

Despite what she said, she must have waited for me until late at night. Was she that curious about the banquet?

"Come on, tell me, nyah. What happened, nyah?"

At Misha's urging, I slowly recounted yesterday's events. How I'd put on the savage-warrior outfit the butler had prepared and led the carriage procession to the banquet. The food I'd eaten there. And how I'd somehow ended up winning the tournament.

"Huh, you really won? Beat all those knights?"

"They weren't knights. They were apprentice knights."

"They're still knights, nyah! That's amazing, nyah!"

Amazing, my ass. Other than the guy in the finals, Misha could have easily beaten them herself. Her hand-to-hand skills really were no joke.

"Never mind that. Write these."

Anyway, once I'd given her a brief rundown, Misha and I started writing letters. They were replies to the nobles. I'd finished them all that morning, but more had arrived while I slept.

"... Bjorn, are you sure you can send them like this, nyah? They're nobles, nyah. This might cause trouble, nyah."

"It's fine."

"Hmm, if you say so, I suppose it is, nyah..."

Despite her anxious look, Misha wrote down what I dictated.

Seriously, I told her there was nothing to worry about. What more did they expect from a barbarian's letter? Getting a reply at all was practically a miracle to begin with, and...

[I'm busy. Can't come.]

[Find another barbarian.]

[Sender: Bjorn, son of Jandel]

Yep, that was plenty dignified enough.

* * *

He was at a noble's mansion. A spacious, glittering place where delicious smells wafted from every direction.

"Now I finally understand what the chieftain meant when he said the world was vast!"

It felt like he'd entered another world. The people's clothes, their manner of speech, even the music he could hear. All his people ever did was beat drums...

"What are you doing? Come over here."

"Ah, all right!"

Dukat, son of Karpen, a barbarian who'd come of age a month ago, followed his client toward the center of the banquet.

"Tsk, what kind of walk is that? Walk with more confidence!"

It felt a little unfair. He didn't even really know what walking with confidence meant. And his equipment was needlessly large and uncomfortable. Going bare was much more comfortable...

Dukat considered voicing his complaints, but kept his mouth firmly shut. A memory from the other day came to mind.

["He managed perfectly well in something even bigger, though?"]

A few days ago, he'd followed a noble who'd promised him a large sum of money and received all sorts of instruction. Most of it concerned how he should behave at the banquet.

At first, he'd been angry. Was he making these absurd demands because Dukat was a barbarian? He'd wondered whether the man looked down on him.

But...

["He! Who is this man you keep hearing strange things about and demanding them of me!"]

["I mean Little Valcan, Bjorn, son of Jandel."]

Once he'd learned the man's identity, he'd had no choice but to endure every demand.

Bjorn, son of Jandel. A warrior among warriors, who'd beaten down every knight at a noble banquet and earned the magnificent epithet Knight Crusher.

'Am I still not good enough to be like him...?'

After hearing his exploits, Dukat had resolved to put on an impressive showing at this banquet. The actions of a warrior whom even the chieftain had praised at the top of his lungs couldn't possibly be wrong. If anything was wrong, surely it was with Dukat himself.

He'd decided to act like a "warrior."

But it wasn't as easy as he'd thought. Surrounded by elegant, refined nobles dressed so differently from himself... he couldn't help feeling intimidated.

Besides...

"D-delicious...!"

"Louder! He wasn't so shy!"

"V-VEHELLLAAAAAA...!!!"

Honestly, it was embarrassing. Barbarian or not, who shouted in admiration of the food in front of everyone? Well, if he'd been alone, he probably would have shouted any number of times.

"Don't just eat the meat. Chew the bones too!"

Anyway, his teeth hurt as well.

"You want a napkin? What do you need that for?"

His hands were sticky from picking up food.

"Now, now, why are you taking off your helmet again?"

His neck was stiff and his shoulders felt heavy. And soon he'd have to enter a tournament made up entirely of barbarian contestants.

Would he even be able to fight properly?

He felt pathetic for worrying about that first. Unlike that warrior, he wasn't even facing knights.

'They say a goblin that tries to follow a troll gets its skull smashed...'

When he'd first entered the city after his coming-of-age ceremony, his heart had raced with the ambition of becoming a famous warrior someday. But was this the wall of reality? In less than a month, he'd come face-to-face with his own inadequacy.

"Why can't you even do that?"

At last, Dukat spoke the words he'd been holding back.

"I'm... an ordinary warrior."

Shouting when he wanted to shout. Smashing whatever he wanted to smash. Acting as he pleased without a trace of embarrassment, no matter who was beside him.

"I can't do that..."

That was a right reserved for the truly strong, for a true warrior who had absolute faith in himself.

"Please. Stop comparing me to him. Bjorn, son of Jandel, is a great warrior someone like me could never measure up to."

"Whew. So he really was special..."

At Dukat's confession, the noble exhaled. Then he stared into empty space with eyes full of desire.

No, perhaps he wasn't the only one.

"I see. So it has to be him..."

"Well, I suppose barbarians that savage can't be common."

"I'd thought all barbarians would be like him."

"They're much more normal than I expected."

On closer inspection, similar remarks were erupting all around the banquet hall.

* * *