Chapter 27 - The Village Feast

A long trail of broad footprints stretched through the snow.

It was a very conspicuous invitation.

'Only one set of tracks.'

An entire company had disappeared, yet there was only one set of tracks...

Galahad crouched to examine them closely. There were small ridges inside the prints.

'Overlapping footprints.'

Several people had walked single file with identical strides, as though playing a game. The overlapping impressions made an exact count impossible, but there had been more than five people at the very least.

'The company walked single file, matching their steps?'

What sort of threat would make an entire company march in single file, each foot landing in the same spot?

He considered how it might have been done, but nothing came to mind.

It wasn't coercion.

He took a deep drag on his cigarette. The lemon scent spread, clearing his hazy mind.

'Missing, after walking single file with matching strides...'

If it wasn't coercion, the next possibility was magic.

Human magic generally incorporated an elemental attribute. Without one, it lacked power.

There was a reason the non-elemental Mana Arrow was classified as Tier 1.

Frying someone with a lightning strike or roasting them with fire was easy enough, but tampering with their mind was considerably harder.

Applying dense, non-elemental mana to someone's brain could cause momentary confusion. It was a persuasion technique Galahad favored.

Casting mental magic on an entire company, however, was impossible.

Rather than magic, this was...

'Ah, a Demon, then.'

The corners of Galahad's mouth lifted.

A Demon that could influence minds... He took a notebook from his inner pocket. The torch Damian held pushed back the darkness.

'It was around here... Ah, there it is.'

[A commander issued an inexplicable order to charge, causing a pivotal section of the front to collapse.]

If there was a Demon that could manipulate minds, that passage would make sense.

"I suspect we're dealing with a Demon that tampers with minds," Galahad said, putting the notebook away.

"Minds?"

He nodded at Damian's matter-of-fact question.

"Threats might work on two or three people, but they couldn't produce a game of follow-the-leader like this. I believe it's a Demon that tampers with minds. Fascinating."

"I see."

"Will you be all right?"

"No. I'm hungry."

"You'll be fine."

Galahad chuckled.

There were two ways to break mental magic.

One was to make the mind utterly simple. The cruder and simpler a mind was, the harder it was to tamper with, because simplicity gave it a sturdier foundation.

Someone with a head full of thoughts could be coaxed along with all sorts of words, but if hunger was all someone thought about, the only option was to feed them.

The other method was...

"Stay close to me from now on. If we get separated, be suspicious."

"Okay. I'm hungry."

"Hold out a little longer."

Galahad nodded and repositioned his cigarettes so he could take one out at any moment.

"Damian. When I give the signal, stick your sword into me."

"Okay."

"Somewhere that hurts like hell but isn't fatal."

Damian nodded without hesitation. He really was dependable.

His preparations complete, Galahad followed the footprints.

"What is your dream?"

"I don't have one."

"Dreams are signposts. Without one, it's easy to lose your way."

"Do you have one?"

"Indeed. A peaceful old age. Leisurely reading spellbooks somewhere warm and clean in the central region."

"I'm going to eat all the meat I want, even when I'm old."

"Isn't that a little too simple?"

"I'll eat bread, too."

"Considerably more complex already. A good sign."

Galahad kept the conversation going to keep his mind anchored.

With his brief, unpredictable replies, Damian made a rather good conversation partner. Granted, most of those replies were "I'm hungry."

After a long walk, a village surrounded by a wooden palisade came into view. The footprints led toward it.

The village felt removed from the world blanketed in white snow. Torches atop the palisade lit the world like beacons.

Following the tracks had brought them to a village...

'Were these not the company's tracks?'

Whatever the case, the invitation led here.

"Judging by the noise, they seem to be having a feast."

"They do?"

Galahad smiled faintly at Damian's answer and headed toward the village.

As they drew closer, he heard a boisterous hubbub of voices, with children's laughter running beneath it like background music.

No one challenged them even when they reached the palisade. Galahad cleared his throat.

"Hello there!"

A short while after his shout, a face appeared above the palisade. It belonged to a one-eyed, middle-aged man armed like a soldier. His face was flushed, as if he'd been drinking.

"Who are you?"

The middle-aged man atop the palisade aimed a large crossbow at Galahad.

"We're from the Fifth Battalion."

"... The Fifth Battalion?" the man repeated uneasily.

"Has a company passed through here?"

"A company? Some soldiers did come by. There was something a little strange about them, so we didn't let them in!"

At that answer, Galahad examined the ground. There were far too many tracks. Some led away as well.

'Have I come the wrong way?'

He narrowed his eyes and took a deep drag on his cigarette.

There were so many tracks. The trail could have branched off elsewhere. Was that more likely?

He looked up at the man on the palisade.

"I see. It's late. Might we stop here to rest?"

"Hmm. Wait there. I'll fetch the village chief."

A little later, an old man with a kindly face climbed up onto the palisade.

"Who are you?"

"Galahad, commander of the Special Operations Unit."

"Special Operations Unit? What's that?"

The old man turned to ask the others. They whispered among themselves, then all shook their heads.

"And the one beside you?"

"My attendant."

Galahad heard a muttered curse calling him a bastard for using a boy as an attendant.

"We can't turn guests away. Open up!"

Thanks to the old man's hospitality, the gate in the palisade soon opened.

Inside, the village was bustling with laughter and music.

The old man wore a hat made from a fox. The fox's face perched atop his head was rather cute.

"Welcome. I'm the village chief, Hedrick. Was it Garahad?"

"Galahad. A pleasure."

Galahad offered his hand first. The old man looked at it and shook his head.

"We don't shake hands with strangers."

"Why not?"

"There's an old tale passed down here. A Demon that bewitches people..."

"Bewitches people?"

Galahad was deeply intrigued. The old man coughed and glanced away. The reason he was holding out his palm was transparent.

"For tonight's lodging and food."

Galahad flicked him a silver coin.

"My, how generous."

"The boy eats rather a lot."

"How much could a child possibly eat?"

Galahad laughed aloud. The old man narrowed his eyes in disapproval.

"Would you finish the story about the Demon that bewitches people?"

"There's a Demon in these woods that bewitches people. It's a very old tale. It approaches without its victim noticing, then bewitches them and leads them into the forest. You said you were looking for a company?"

"I did."

"That Demon probably took them."

Orange torchlight shaded the old man's face, casting deep shadows in its countless wrinkles.

'A false lead?'

Galahad's brow furrowed.

"Do you know where that Demon is?"

"You don't know enough to fear Demons, do you?"

"Are they frightening?"

The old man's mouth stopped moving at Galahad's question. Then he gave a short laugh and shook his head.

"Of course they're frightening. How would we know where a Demon is? If we knew, we'd have contacted the troops long ago."

Galahad clicked his tongue softly. It was possible the invitation had led somewhere else.

"But if you haven't heard of our village, you must be new around here."

The old man's lips twitched. He looked desperate to boast.

"The Fifth Battalion's commander comes from our village. Quite a few of our people joined the Fourth Battalion, too. That's why our village is so peaceful, sitting between the two battalions."

His explanation was quite reasonable. Galahad nodded. So that was how it was.

"Our village has produced young men of that caliber, is what I'm saying. And you've never heard of us. Tsk, tsk."

Galahad glanced behind him. The one-eyed, middle-aged man was fiddling with his crossbow.

"Were you a soldier?"

"Everyone in the North has been a soldier."

It was a blunt reply.

"You're in luck, coming on the day of a feast."

The old man beamed and pointed behind him, toward an open space in the center of the village. A great pile of firewood stood there.

Musicians played, women danced beside them, and steam rose from the meat. A village feast.

"It's my daughter's birthday today."

A fond smile spread over his face. Then he squinted at Galahad.

"Watch yourself! My daughter is a great beauty. Try making advances and you'll get nothing!"

"Ah, don't worry. I'm engaged."

"Even so! People line up to visit our village just to see my daughter!"

Galahad chuckled at the old man's continued warnings.

"I assure you, my fiancée is more beautiful. Don't worry. Being more beautiful than my fiancée is impossible."

"... That's quite a love you have there."

"Not love. Pure fact."

Looking nonplussed, the old man waved a hand.

"Young man with the beautiful wife, don't just stand there. Lend a hand."

At his scolding, Galahad headed toward the piled firewood.

A small child was trying to light it with a torch.

"May I help?"

"It'll be hard!"

The child shot back boldly.

For the moment, Galahad watched. The child thrust a torch larger than their own head into the woodpile.

The wood must have been wet with snow, for it stubbornly refused to catch. Beads of sweat dotted the child's forehead.

After struggling for quite some time, the child handed Galahad the torch.

"I'm only giving it to you because you look like you want a turn!"

"Thank you. It looked so entertaining that I simply had to try."

The child laughed shrilly.

Galahad pushed the torch into the woodpile and snapped his fingers. Its flame swelled in an instant.

"Woooow!"

The child gasped in wonder. Soon the wood caught. The small flame quickly grew into a roaring fire.

"How did you do that?!"

"It's a secret."

"Whaaaat?! That's not fair!"

The child screwed up their eyes.

"The world is a cold place. If you want to know a secret, you'll have to offer one of your own. A trade in secrets."

"... A trade in secrets?"

The child's eyes sparkled. Both "secrets" and "trade" were irresistible words to a child.

After briefly checking their surroundings, the child spoke.

"My big sister's getting married soon!"

"Hmm. That's not a secret."

"It is! Because it's going to be a wonderful wedding!"

Galahad quietly repeated the child's words to himself.

"Hurry up and tell me."

"Magic."

"Ma-gic!"

The child's piercing shriek silenced the surroundings in an instant.

The one-armed, middle-aged man bringing more firewood, the woman stirring an enormous pot, the old man giving orders as though organizing something...

Everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at him.

"A pleasure. I'm a Mage."

Galahad gave them a leisurely wave.

"You never said you were a Mage!"

The old man came running over, shouting.

"You never asked."

"Damn it! We let a Mage in!"

His reaction was vehement. The middle-aged man's crossbow was aimed at Galahad again. Galahad raised both hands.

"Why all this fuss?"

"You're a Demon's lackey! A Demon will attack us!"

His attempt to calm them only made things worse.

At the old man's shout, the mood turned ugly in an instant. The middle-aged man's finger slipped onto the crossbow's trigger.

Then a quiet voice came from one side.

"Everyone, please calm down. It's a happy occasion."

The voice was sweet as candy and languid as an afternoon nap. Galahad turned to see a woman in plain clothes approaching.

She was unnaturally beautiful.

Not as beautiful as Adrianna, of course, but she possessed a strange allure that drew the eye. The moment he saw her, his heart fluttered.

"Ah, yes. A happy occasion! Amanda!"

Galahad marveled that such a woman could have come from that old man.

"Leave as soon as the feast is over. I'll return your money."

"How cold."

"You brought this on yourself by hiding what you are."

Before long, the feast began. The villagers gathered around the roaring fire, talking and singing.

Warm laughter rang out. At its center was the woman named Amanda, smiling benevolently as she talked and laughed with everyone.

Galahad could see why they would hold an entire feast for her birthday.

Everything revolved around Amanda.

Damian was silently looking up at Galahad.

Then the one-eyed man began playing an instrument resembling a guitar. Its strumming made the atmosphere grow livelier still.

Amanda raised both hands overhead, clapping as she spun. She was a rather skilled dancer.

Suddenly, she stopped and held a hand out to Galahad.

"I'm hopeless at dancing."

He refused firmly.

The corners of Amanda's eyes lifted slightly. Jeers poured in from the crowd. People started calling him a eunuch.

Only when Amanda resumed dancing did the uproar subside.

She danced for a long time. It was difficult to tear his eyes away. Several times, his feet nearly moved of their own accord.

Eventually, as the villagers mingled together in their dancing, Amanda slipped away.

Her eyes met Galahad's, and the corners of her red lips lifted. She approached with a spring in her step, as though still dancing.

"I hear you're a Mage."

"An exceptionally talented one."

"Oh my. Could you show me?"

Amanda's eyes curved into crescents. It was a devastating smile.

She edged closer. Her peculiar allure shook Galahad profoundly.

'Being popular is exhausting...'

He clicked his tongue softly and snapped his fingers.

A spark leaped from his index finger to his middle finger, taking shape as it went. Soon, a flower of lightning floated above his palm.

"Wow, that's so pretty..."

Galahad went on to perform more spells. Pretty magic was child's play to him.

How long had he been cycling through spells?

A strange sense of déjà vu came over him.

The village was excessively peaceful, but not suspiciously so. The explanation was actually quite reasonable.

It lay between the Fourth and Fifth Battalions, after all.

But something was missing.

Galahad thought it over carefully.

"We have a tradition in our village."

Amanda whispered from right beside him, having drawn close without him noticing. His ears felt as if they might melt.

["Adultery is punishable by death in the North."]

He could almost hear Gilberton's nagging. Unfortunately, Gilberton wasn't here.

"A tradition? What sort?"

"On the day we come of age, we choose a partner to spend the night with."

Amanda's red lips formed a lovely curve. They were the color of someone who had eaten a handful of wild raspberries.

Laughter rose behind them. The music grew faster and faster.

STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM

"A rather passionate tradition."

Galahad rubbed his dry throat.

What was missing...?

STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM

Amanda gently swayed her shoulders, dancing like a flower stirring in the breeze.

Her red lips slowly parted.

"Today is my birthday."

The whisper was sweet enough to melt his ears.

Excited breath and a faint fragrance...

It was an irresistible temptation.

'This is rather embarrassing to let Damian see.'

STRUM STRUM STRUM STRUM

"Ah, of course."

Only then did he realize what was missing.

Damian was staring up at him.

"Please."

Without hesitation, Damian drove his sword into Galahad's shoulder.

There wasn't the slightest pause, as though he had been waiting for this.

Ah...

Searing agony burst through his shoulder. His mind snapped clear, as though blocked blood had begun flowing again.

Only then did his mana circulate. To think he'd forgotten the very existence of mana... Remarkable.

Impressed, Galahad closed his eyes and opened them again.

His vision flickered, and everything changed.

A huge pile of firewood was burning. The scene illuminated by its flickering flames was different now.

People whose heads were open at the top, as though someone had taken a bite from each, stared at Galahad with red eyes.

Their ghastly shadows wavered in the flames.

'I've found the missing company.'

Unfortunately, it seemed unlikely they could return alive.

"How did you know?"

Amanda narrowed her eyes as she asked. Intense interest gleamed in them.

The village's premise had certainly been convincing.

Its location on the boundary between two battalions, its ties to men serving in each... There was nothing suspicious about it.

Naturally. The bewitched Galahad had devised that premise himself.

But one thing had been missing.

"Damian wasn't saying he was hungry."

"You let yourself be stabbed because he didn't say he was hungry? What if you were wrong?"

"Then I'd patch it up. I have another shoulder. You're rather petty."

"... Petty?"

Galahad answered as he pressed a finger to the hole in his shoulder. The wound would be no trouble once he sealed the surface.

Flames rose from his finger. The smell of roasting flesh wafted up, and he clicked his tongue softly.

"Clean work. Well done, Damian."

Damian nodded.

"Hmm. Interesting."

The corners of Amanda's red lips lifted. A drop of blood clung to the corner of her mouth.

"I found it quite entertaining, too. Mental interference of this caliber... Remarkable. Why leave their skulls open? Does that make it easier?"

Amanda laughed aloud. Her laughter sounded just like a bat.

"How amusing! No wonder that esteemed person is looking for you."

"That esteemed person?"

"Telling you in advance would spoil the fun."

"True enough."

"Are you really human?"

Instead of answering, Galahad exhaled deeply.

"I suppose I'll find out when I open you up."

Amanda twirled a finger.

The soldiers with open skulls approached. Their eyes were filled with fury and anguish. Blood from their heads ran down around their eyes, like tears of blood.

Their footsteps were heavy.

"Damned Demons! How dare you kill my mother!"

"I'll kill you! Even if it costs me my life!"

Apparently, Galahad looked like a Demon to them.

"You ruined my sister's wedding!!"

An unusually small soldier shouted shrilly.

Deep-seated rage poured from him.

Their sharp hostility prickled against Galahad's skin.

It was a little unfair, but he didn't particularly mind.

He was used to this sort of treatment.

"Now, Damian. Time to work."

Galahad put a cigarette between his lips and smiled.