SIDE STORY A

1

There may come, every now and then, moments on one’s path where they begin to feel it might be fitting for the story of life to be already concluded. Sadly, fate holds no sense of drama. Where some stories end only too soon, never to reach a full circle, or even a quarter of one, never achieving a proper climax, or catharsis, no payoff, or even a promise of such, others go on seemingly indefinitely, undeserved, well past their highest moments, even as their starring characters quietly pray for release.

Neither side is given a choice. So it is that art must imitate life and not the other way round, and if fate should bend its course to our heartfelt desire any easier than to a capricious whim, we would not be humans at all, but gods, and thus beyond pain and want to start with.

By the age of thirty-nine, Itaka Izumi had reached certain awareness of this fact.

Unlike most other people, Izumi had lived not just one but two lives.

One as a very average—if not below average—human being on the planet Earth; and the other as a rather extraordinary—if not above extraordinary—human on the planet Ortho. If there was any one common denominator to be pointed out in these lives of extremely contrasting vectors, it was surely encrypted in the universal, random aimlessness of it all, in the lack of lasting rewards, as well as a fitting conclusion.

The day Divine magic had delivered Izumi to Ortho, giving her a second chance at life, she had set career as a sword hero, clad in wealth, power, and fame, as her primary objective. She had defied nature and providence both, just because she wanted to, for her own personal ambition and no other reason. Though life in the otherworld stubbornly refused to grant her what she wished in the desired quantity or quality, not entirely empty was her lot either. In addition to the minor boons that fortunes deigned to grace her with, Izumi had been handed certain other things as well, and in such abundance that she considered her cup entirely filled by now, to the point of spilling over.

Namely, on despair and disappointment.

Unfortunately, where so many poets and singers would draw the finishing line—either out of mercy for their characters, or else for the audience—the grand narrator of destiny was not as gentle. Time never stops or wavers for even but a moment, never slows, never turns backwards, and never grants pardon to any one, taking us all equally on towards the ultimate destination at the collective end of everything. And no matter how she found it unnecessary, if not outright unwanted, our unconventional hero was made to face the coming of yet another day, and then another, and another, and so could only set aside her personal grief, to tackle the mundane challenges of daily living.

One step at a time, Izumi received her fate and kept going.

A hero or a beggar, the necessities of life remained the same to all.

A person must eat to preserve her strength, she must sleep to restore her vitality, she must earn coin to exchange for her bread, and she must go about this wisely, or the unpredictable nature will become her undoing.

In this regard, the summoned champion was no different from the others dwellers of her colorful new world. Before ancient prophecies predicting the end of life as a phenomenon, Izumi’s personal life was threatened by the lack of earthly prosperity and employment. In the gray, never-ending search for such, and to leave her heartache behind, Izumi continued her journey without looking back, even past where books would normally have their back cover, donning a false mask of normality.

The adventure of life eventually brought our hero, and the bard Waramoti who accompanied her, to a certain village. It had been several days since they had last seen warm food or a dependable shelter, tiring themselves out in the search for some, and so they greeted the sight of Elthauk with great relief, as dilapidated and weather-worn as the place appeared in their eyes.

Two weeks prior, the champion had parted from the company of Tratovia’s esteemed Court Wizard, once more declining the invitation to return to Bhastival, the bountiful capital of the growing Empire. Thence, the duty-bound sorceress of the Imperials had elected the most direct path to her office, keeping to the northward-stretching shadow of the Abserim Range, whereas Izumi headed westward, to paths hitherto unknown.

What drove the champion and where to, precisely, remained a mystery even to her faithful travel companion. In the wake of Izumi’s stormy visit in the land of the seclusive emiri, and its tragic conclusion, the champion had fallen in a state of abnormal quietude, whence hardly anything could remove her. Driven by his entertainer’s blood, Waramoti had done his best to keep life going as before. He’d taught Izumi various things he had learned during his past travels as a dog of war, to lure her out of her mourning.

How to correctly disable a golem; the best time to retrieve the eggs of a griffin; how salt could be used to banish evil spirits; ways to elude a heat-seeking spell, and much, much more. But even the sorts of topics that would normally have made Izumi’s face shine brightly with child-like excitement now provoked little to no reaction from the woman. Communicating only with hushed, one-syllable sounds, she rode on without a smile.

Waramoti had considered it a positive sign how the woman had purchased a new horse for herself and requested the bard to teach her the art of its control. The beast had been uncannily cheap, but in less than ideal condition, blinded to one eye due to an infection, freed from all work, skinny, and awaiting butchery. Still, there was nothing dramatically wrong with the grayish gelding and Izumi took a liking to it, paying the requested fee of eight copper marks without complaints.

“From today on, you are Masamune Date,” she told the horse. “The one-eyed dragon of Oshu.”

Warmoti felt the naming sense was rather peculiar, if not outright foreboding, and the lady’s grim tone added to the glum effect. Yet, he considered this renewed interest in worldly affairs, above all, a healthy indication that Izumi was overcoming her apathy.

Moreover, the horse appeared to approve of his new owner, and carried the woman without any show of the rebellious nature his owner had cautioned them about. Healthy, casual exercise and sufficient food strengthened the animal, so that in two brief weeks it became like any other mount in capability, in spite of the impaired vision. However, the bard soon found that he had been perhaps too hasty in his assessment of Izumi’s mentality. Even after becoming a passable rider of her own, Izumi relapsed to muted brooding and ceased to show any curiosity towards the foreign world around her, which had previously filled her with endless wonder at every turn. Without constant attention, she likely would have not remembered to even eat.

Waramoti spent a great deal of time thinking up ways to best encourage the lady, but the task was not so simple for him. Though he was a seasoned traveler and a warrior, familiar with death and loss, sworn to perfect impartiality as an observer, a recorder, the events from two weeks back had shaken even his steely heart. How could one overcome such a heavy blow, he couldn’t easily tell. Nevertheless, he continued to follow after Izumi, firmly believing that she was yet destined for greater things.

And now, shortly before the noon of a new day, the two arrived at Elthauk, the village that had never known greatness by any measure.

Standing roughly two hundred and thirty miles from the western border between Tratovia and Luctretz, entirely removed from major trade routes and essential highways, it was unclear how Elthauk ever came to be, or how it had supported habitation for so long. But there it was, nestled by a lengthy hill and a drowsy batch of hardwood forest.

A rudimentary split rail fence encircled a loose, irregular group of brown-painted farm cabins with their vegetable gardens, sheds, storage buildings, outhouses, and various other agrarian add-ons. The country road cut across the northern third of the settlement, threw a little side loop between the houses, and then resumed eastward, where it would join with the Messidan highway about fifty miles away, sporting a few other similar, furtive villages along the way.

There was nothing worth a song about Elthauk, as much was clear at a glance.

No fanfares greeted the travelers. Nearing the houses, all they saw was a lone, middle-aged woman tending to a shabby cabbage field. The woman was clad in a gray-blue dress, an apron, and a rag wrapped around her head, in protection against the intense midday sun. Beside the growing, round cabbage rolls here and there, the field was riddled with tufts of overgrown weed, dandelions, thorny thistles, and such like. The peasant lady certainly had her work cut out for her, having to clear such a mess by herself.

Seeing the riders’ approach, the woman straightened her posture, stretched her back, and greeted them with a wordless, suspicious glance.

“Good day to you, madam!” Waramoti greeted the peasant with a friendly wave, to banish her doubts regarding their intentions.

The sight of the handsome youth made the villager return the greeting with a crooked smile. Doubtless the reception would have been different for a brawny warrior, but an elixir of most extraordinary composition had reverted that feared mercenary back into an agile boy of barely sixteen summers in appearance. As such, he couldn’t be considered threatening by any measure.

“And good day to you, young master,” the peasant called out to him. “You seem a long way from home! That your mother you’re going with? What peril has driven such a princeling with his family to these forsaken roads? You could’ve picked a better direction, if you were looking for a change of scenery!”

“I thank you kindly for the undeserved concern,” the bard told the woman with a bow, stopping his horse by the field. “And I feel it necessary to enhance your observation just a little. I am no prince, or a noble of any variety, but merely a wandering musician and a storyteller, by the name Waramoti. And this perpetually sullen lady in my company is no family of mine, but a great hero of strength and renown.”

“A hero?” The peasant gave Izumi a skeptical look, likely thinking the traveler was a fellow cabbage farmer sooner than any figure of note. But the sight of the shiny greatsword that Izumi never parted with made the woman of Elthauk swallow any sarcasm.

Normally, Izumi herself should have been the first to assure others of her heroic status, yet here she ignored the conversation entirely, staring off into space, as if utterly blind and deafened. Although, this aloofness probably only enhanced the aura of mystery and heroism about her, when compared to her usual behavior.

“Why, we sure could use a hero in these parts,” the farmer said, her expression growing darker. “Or maybe even two.”

“Hm? Why’s that?” Waramoti asked her. “Something troubling you?”

“And what wouldn’t trouble us?” the woman responded with a snort. “More bandits and beasts prowl these lands than decent folk! There’s little food, but lots of eaters. Our village is steadily running short on both. The mighty Empire has no men to spare to aid us little people of the land. They’ll rather send their young ones to die in foreign lands, to make the rich men richer, than lend so much as pity to our troubles.”

“I see,” the bard nodded. “Such is regrettably common in this day and age, indeed.”

“We were fine with being forgotten, before the Tratovians ever came around,” the villager continued. “But now we’ve got a menace bigger than ourselves in our hands.”

“And what’s that?”

“A manticore,” the peasant answered the bard.

“A manticore, is it…?” Waramoti’s countenance soured as well, as he repeated that dreaded name. “Certainly, it is some true plight you’ve landed yourselves in.”

“It’s nabbed three kids by the date, and we ain’t got much more to give. Suppose it’ll take the rest of us the same way. Easy pickings and all. Naught we can do about such a thing, by ourselves. So you’d better hurry off to Milhauwe now, young master, and be quick about it. It won’t be so safe around these parts when it gets dark.”

“Thank you for the warning,” the bard said. “But have you not tried asking the other villages for help?”

“Who would help us?” the woman retorted. “The others are little better off than we are. Even if they were, nobody would want to risk their hides defying such a beast. It’s a suicide. We’d need a real army. Or…a hero.”

There was no hope in the eyes with which the farmer gave Izumi a second look. In spite of the formidable weapon, the rider herself didn’t look much like a warrior. Or even passably interested. Resigned, the villager returned to weeding her field.

“Well, it can’t be helped,” the young bard shrugged. “Ending up with a beast of that caliber is simply bad luck. Before one hero, you’ll need armored soldiers, tough shields, and crossbows. Suppose we’ll head on to Trinole, and ask that they send you a platoon.”

“You do that, young master, and we’d be eternally grateful,” the cabbage farmer told him. “Provided there’s anyone left in here by the time that platoon of yours chooses to make an appearance. Beg your pardon, but I don’t hold much hope.”

“—Money.”

“Hm?”

Both Waramoti and the villager turned their heads.

Though it had looked like she wasn’t listening, Izumi suddenly broke her silence.

“Do you have any money?” she asked the farmer.

“...A coin here or there, maybe?” The older woman shrugged. “Why?”

“Pay me and I’ll kill the beast.”

Normally, Waramoti would have quickly told her to forget such plans. Being from another world, Izumi had likely never seen a manticore before, and opposing a foe you know nothing about, without proper equipment or preparations, was the height of arrogance and folly. But, this was the first time Izumi had spoken a full sentence in three days, and shutting her up again wouldn’t be very constructive. Surprised, he decided to wait and see what would happen.

“What?” The peasant ceased her work again, facing Izumi with her hands on her hips, and a look of disbelief on her face. “You’d kill the manticore? You, by yourself? You pulling my leg, young lady?”

“If the price is right,” Izumi replied, not even smiling a little.

“And what is the right price for such a deed, in your opinion?”

“...Forty silver.”

The villager looked around, twisting her lips.

“That’s a lot asked, aye. But if I go ask around...We might be able to put that much together. Maybe.”

“Then we have a deal.”

Urging Masamune on, Izumi rode past the field, into the village, the dumbfounded bard following shortly behind her.

In the middle of the settlement stood a little brick-made well, and by the well a hitching with a trough, where they left their horses. Apparently, Izumi had been quite serious with her intention to stay at Elthauk to deal with their monster problem.

Recognizing this, Waramoti saw it wise to question her plans.

“Are you quite sure about this?” he asked. “Going to slay the manticore, by yourself?”

Izumi didn’t answer, climbing off the saddle.

“Hey, are you listening—”

“—That was so awesome,” the woman finally uttered with a relishing sigh. “I finally got to say it in real life. Just like Ger*** of Rivia.”

“...Pardon me?”

“I’m a real professional now, huh?” Izumi said. “At long last, I get to do what I always dreamed about. Yes. This is what wish-fulfillment is all about.”

“...Er, okay?” The young man was beginning to wonder if this development really was for the better. “Let me ask you this: do you know what a manticore even is?”

“Nope,” Izumi replied outright. “I mean, the name sounds vaguely familiar. There may be a fairy tale or something about it in my past world, but can’t say I know any better.”

“And you just agreed to kill something you know next to nothing about. For forty silver.”

“A monster like any other?” The woman shrugged. “Did I ask too much?”

“Obviously, you asked too little,” the bard informed her. “Manticores are about the deadliest beasts there are in all Noertia. If it were me, I wouldn’t even think about it for anything less than four hundred silver. Five hundred. Were I still at my prime, that is. As I am, I wouldn’t even fantasize about such a thing, for any money!”

“Four hundred silver...” Izumi pondered. “One silver mark is worth a hundred copper marks, so that would be forty thousand copper. These people wouldn’t have that kind of money, I think.”

“Which is precisely why no one in their right mind would stick their neck out for such a sorry little hamlet. It’s sad, but what can you do? Those who run charity in these parts end up in an early, nameless grave. Just leave this affair to the hold guard, or a free company. It’s their job to take care of problems such as this. They have the gear, the men, and steady salaries to make up for the effort.”

But in spite of his excellent argument, Izumi wouldn’t change her mind.

“I already told them I’d do it, so I’m doing it,” she said. “Or what? Is that how little faith you have in me, kid? After everything we’ve been through? If it were the Demon Lord, I might be a little nervous, but this is just your average fantasy world pest problem, and not even part of the main scenario. We’ll be done by supper. Come on.”

“Wait, you can’t possibly ask me to come along!” Waramoti retreated. “I’m not a hero or a slayer of monsters! Anymore, that is. And I’m allergic to manticores!”

“No, you’re my walking dictionary and appraiser. And I’ll pay you three silver for the effort. Come on.”

“Damn it! While this is definitely development, it is not the sort of development I had in mind!”

2

As Waramoti well knew by prior experience, once Izumi decided on something, her mind could not be very easily changed, if at all. Only a particularly fair maiden might have succeeded in the effort, but it was undeniably beyond him. She wasn’t taking his word seriously at all. Entrusting their fate to the Divines once again, the bard gave up on logic and only followed along the unfolding events.

The summoned champion and her reluctant sidekick began their investigation by interviewing the contractor for more details.

They learned that the most recent victim of the dreaded carnivore had gone missing only on the previous day, venturing too close to the grove south of the village, where the beast had been previously spotted. An elderly man had first seen the creature earlier in the week, while picking up firewood. It had passed across the fields, into the aforementioned grove. Children liked to play in the woods, and that is where they had begun to go missing shortly after. Though going near the treeline was since prohibited, two more children were lost, no trace of them ever found.

Nowhere was safe. It seemed that instead of merely passing by, the manticore had settled in the grove, having found an easy food source. It could sneak around in the tall-grown fields surrounding the buildings and catch unsuspecting walkers.

The beast might not leave the area before killing and eating every last one of the villagers of Elthauk...Unless someone either hunted it down or chased it away.

Such a large monster was not too easy to scare off. Any encounter with it was likely to result in bloodshed. Nevertheless, removing the threat by whatever means necessary was the job Izumi had accepted, and no matter what the bard told her, she exhibited no concerns regarding her chances.

After questioning the villagers, Izumi and Waramoti headed to the field near the woods, where the latest victim was seen. Buckwheat grew there in sunburned batches under elder oaks, shortly ready to be harvested. No, perhaps it was already past the due date.

“Here we are,” Izumi remarked, surveying the field. “Alright, Watson, it’s your turn. Go and do your thing.”

“Huh?” Waramoti paused next to her, blinking. “What? Are you talking to me?”

“Do you see anybody else?” the woman told him. “You’re the tracking specialist of the team, Mr ‘Heaven’s Hand’. Surely you don’t expect a fair maiden such as myself to be crawling in the hay and dirt down yonder? What if there are spiders? It looks precisely the kind of a place with tons of spiders and other bugs, and I hate bugs. I hate them with a passion.”

“I should wonder if there aren’t things a whole lot more dangerous than spiders in there?” he retorted. “Such as our quarry, lying in wait for the next hapless idiot to come by. No way! I’m a bard now, if you remember? A dictionary, if you will! But I didn’t sign up for hunting deadly creatures! It’s well outside both my calling and my pay grade!”

“What do you know, there’s something dangerous right here too,” Izumi retorted, reaching for her sword. “I wonder, which is the lesser evil?”

Shortly, Waramoti waded amid the waist-length waves of buckwheat, scanning for anything unusual in the field with his senses, while grumbling.

“I’m going to want a raise...”

Complaints he might have had, but Izumi hadn’t picked the young man for this task out of sheer malice. As said, his past as a warrior of renown and a well-versed hunter made him the superior tracker of the team, and it didn’t take long for his accustomed eyes to pick up obvious signs of past passage in the neglected field.

“It seems the villagers were telling the truth,” he observed. “A lone child passed here, less than a day ago. Male, of maybe eight or nine summers, going by the footprint. The tracks seem to lead to the woods.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Izumi said with a smile, coming along.

Following the tracks with patience and caution, they proceeded up a narrow, sandy slope between the treeline and the field, and entered the shade of the ominous grove.

The view ahead was dominated by great, stumpy oaks with bulging, coarse trunks. Their densely knit canopies had shaded the ground from daylight for many decades, if not centuries, drowning out most of their rivals. The tree roots penetrated up to the surface in many places, forming a bumpy, treacherous net that was somewhat arduous to navigate in the limited light.

The air hung thick and still between the trees, long, thick strands of spider webbing closing the gaps between the low-hanging branches. Waramoti passed ahead, pulling down the ages-old webs on their path, and the arachnophobic earthling followed a good distance behind, looking disgusted and appalled.

“How do you think you’ll be fine with a manticore when you can’t handle things smaller than your palm?” he pondered aloud.

“They’re completely different!” Izumi argued.

The tracks were difficult to see, but here and there the investigators found unnatural markings, misplaced moss, broken branches, kicked stones, or nicked roots, indicating the path of the missing person.

Then, after about half an hour of navigating in the great trees’ shadow, the eccentric pair of hunters ran completely out of breadcrumbs and could only keep turning their heads in confusion. Although this was where the missing children had lost their lives, there were no blood splatters or other remains left, no bones, pieces of clothing, or any other such signs of a violent death.

In their persistent search for additional clues, Izumi eventually spotted a sunlit clearing up ahead in the east, towards which she directed her feet, desperate for a breath of fresh air in the suffocating twilight. She trod towards the clearing with hurried, nimble feet, until a closer look revealed a most startling element in the looming vista, forcing her to give up on her intentions.

Urged by Waramoti, they took cover behind a nearby tree, and crouched to discuss the sighting.

“It’s there.”

Indeed, upon the clearing, in the shadow of a solitary lemon tree and a coffin-like rock, rested a peculiar creature.

It had a thin but tough-looking body resembling a malnourished lion, or a big dog, covered in blond, wavy fur a few inches long, stained red here and there. Its tail didn’t look to belong to the same body, being as a long, naked, scaly whip, which ended in a spiked ball, similar to the morning star.

However, the strangest part about the being was its head, not feline or canine at all, but disturbingly close to human in appearance, a middle-aged man with copper-red hair. The mouth, framed by a thick beard, was not particularly humanoid, reaching from one round, bear-like ear to the other, a narrow, lipless crack, full of thin, steely, nail-like teeth. The vision was an unsettling mishmash of characteristics that should have been starkly contradictory with one another, yet which made up a strangely, unexpectedly fitting blend all together. Izumi couldn’t decide whether to call the sum of it all handsome or simply loathsome.

The creature appeared to be napping, insofar ignorant of observation.

“Well, we’ve located our mark,” Waramoti whispered to her. “Are you still sure you want to do this?”

“It does look mean,” Izumi agreed, her composure slightly lessened, “but running and hiding won’t pay the bills. I want new shoes and something other than thin pea soup for lunch.”

“I was afraid you would say that,” the bard sighed. “Watch the tail. It can launch those spines, quick and tough as crossbow bolts. They’re venomous, even being scraped a little will give you fever for a week. Otherwise, it’s not so different from a panther. Not that panthers aren’t dangerous, mind you.”

“Alright,” Izumi nodded. “Stay put.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked. “I’m not going within a hundred yards of that thing!”

Izumi wasn’t so sure if she wanted to go closer either, yet she steeled her will, left the cover while drawing her sword, and continued for the clearing. Believing that her chances were higher if she could get a drop on the target from behind, she circled around counter-clockwise under the trees’ cover, then to strike from the beast’s blind spot.

Remaining undetected, Izumi stepped out of the shadows, onto the clearing.

Short grass grew in the gap, of the color of jade. The ground was tough, securing a solid footing. It was by all means the ideal terrain for executing sword techniques, devoid of obstacles. Confident in her chances, Izumi crept on, one careful step at a time, keeping her balance point low, letting the occasional breeze and rustling of foliage mask what little sound her movements produced. It was probably safest to start by chopping off the troublesome tail, she thought. Holding her sword with a gentle but firm grip, Izumi prepared to activate Gram and Sifl, and launch her attack.

Then, the manticore opened its eyes and stood up.

Nimbly like a cat, it turned around on the spot to face the woman, and sat back down, staring straight at her. Its eyes were disturbingly humanoid as well, deep blue in color, the look in them not at all like that of a wild animal, but wise and calm.

“Why, hello there,” the manticore told Izumi. “I don’t believe we have met before.”

Izumi froze in her tracks.

“...You can talk?” she asked with a frown.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Yes, I can talk. Common speech isn’t all that difficult to grasp, even for one such as I.”

Certainly, the manticore was talking. Furthermore, it had a smooth, pleasant voice, deep and clear, as that of a news broadcaster.

“You have come to kill me, perhaps?” the manticore continued to question Izumi’s intentions. “Your poise would suggest so. Might I kindly ask you to reconsider this? I see very little a person such as yourself could gain for a task as vile and wrought with peril.”

Izumi remained still, unsure of how to respond. She certainly hadn’t expected this manner of a turn of events. Was the dreaded beast pleading for its life? It showed no intention of attacking her, sitting upright like a house pet, its tail lazily bouncing on the ground behind it.

“...You killed humans from the village nearby,” Izumi told the monster, not letting down her guard. “I got offered forty silver to get rid of you. Can you do better?”

It was somewhat absurd to negotiate with a man-killing beast, but the situation was plenty absurd enough as it was. It wouldn’t hurt to try, or so she thought.

“I see,” the manticore commented. “Forty silver is a lot of money. Unfortunately, I have none, as I scarce have any need for such. It is no less true that I’ve resorted to eating one or two villagers in the nearby past. It was by the forces of circumstances, I assure you. See, there is not all that much worthwhile prey around and even I get hungry every once in a while. Is it so terrible of me, to not want to starve? But, I should tell you that what little I have caught here is enough to sate me for a good month or so, and I had every intention to move on from this part of the land. I will not trouble the village that hired you anymore. I may be somewhat presumptuous in my suggestion—as well as self-serving—but I believe you could just as well return to whoever hired you, tell them you are finished with the deed, and receive your reward. And they would be none the wiser, looking at the result.”

“You want me to deceive my employer for your benefit?” Izumi asked. “That sounds plenty mischievous to me, and if by this you meant to convince me you’re not a bad guy and deserve to live, then it’s not working out, exactly.”

“Oh no, that was not my intention at all,” the beast assured her. “I would not tell you that I am a good person, as I am neither subscribed to your human perceptions of morality, nor even a person. No, if we go purely by your measures, then I am most certainly what you would call ‘bad’. I eat humans to live. I am, to humans, an intolerable existence and a horror in every conceivable regard. Such is my nature. But, am I to be blamed for my own creation? If you were to be so kind as to hear me out, I would tell you that I do not see life and death as something one has to ‘earn’ in the first place. To live is a privilege we were all given when we came to be, and all those of us who live equally share this right. We are alive, you and I, in this moment, and so long as we live, we will want to keep doing so, by the instincts that we were bestowed with when we were made. Therefore, no matter how your kind would perceive me, I would still argue in favor of my own survival, by whatever means, and you should not consider this a demerit for me. Does this make sense to you?”

“...Er, maybe?” Izumi admitted.

“Excellent. Although, returning to topic, I see now that simply being paid for a work you did not do is not acceptable to you. Most of your kind would be glad to be spared of a battle with me and still receive payment for it, but not you. Yes, this is doubtless the manner of behavior that is considered ‘honorable’ by your standards. I have lived for long enough and close enough to mankind to understand these things. We could fight to the death then, I suppose, but wasting all the calories I gained and being forced to hunt again would be counterproductive. I can also tell that you are a rather dangerous person, and I might not survive this battle without any injuries, which could make hunting difficult for me in the future. Hm. Isn’t this a pickle? Then, I suppose I will need to offer something else for you to let me go.”

“And what might that be?” Izumi asked.

“I have no money, as you can see,” the manticore said, “but I may be able to acquire something else that humans tend to hold in value. Information.”

“Information?”

“Correct,” the monster nodded. “Now, I do not mean to boast, but the fact of the matter is, I happen to be on relatively good terms with the spirits of this land. I am confident that with the spirits’ assistance, I will be able to answer any question you might have—but just one. After all, information can, in the right hands, be more valuable than silver or even gold to your kind.”

“Eh? Did I understand this right?” Izumi asked, surprised. “You can actually answer just about any question? Or does it have to be about some specific topic?”

“If it is information available to me or the spirits of the land, then yes, virtually anything should go,” the manticore answered her. “After all, spirits are everywhere, have always been, and they see all. They are nature itself. Neither do they have any special inhibitions towards sharing what they know, if only you know how to ask. If you have a powerful enemy, I may be able to tell their secret weakness that no one else knows. If you have something you’ve lost, I may be able to tell you where to find it. If you wish to find a treasure buried eons ago and claim it for yourself, I can tell you where to look. And so on and so forth. Such questions are no trouble at all.”

“Does asking if this counts as a question count as a question?”

“My, I would not be that unreasonable! I feel no need to deceive you, not the way another human would. I am bargaining for my life here, after all. Fooling you would only bring us at odds soon again, and defeat the purpose of this conversation. Let’s see, only a particularly difficult question that I need to petition the spirits’ aid with will qualify. That should leave no confusion in the matter.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Then, what will you ask? I shall be ready whenever you are.”

Thinking about it for a moment while scratching her head, Izumi asked,

“...Um, can I get some time to think about it?”

“You can,” the manticore courteously replied. “I shall keep here for one more day. Return to this place by noon tomorrow with your query, and I shall answer you then. If I do not see you here by the agreed time, I will take that as a refusal, and leave. I suppose you may still attempt to collect your bounty afterwards, but I am afraid my head will no longer be available then, and I shall endeavor to make it as difficult to relocate as I possibly can.”

“Oh, I’ll be here.”

In great confusion, Waramoti watched Izumi return from the clearing without laying a finger on the beast, neither dead nor victorious.

“You didn’t kill the manticore?”

“Well, the situation got complicated,” Izumi reported, putting her sword away.

“Not again!?”

3

On the way back to the village, Izumi told the bard what the manticore had said, including its highly unusual proposal. If the monster could hold its end of the bargain, find an answer to any one question, and wouldn’t trouble Elthauk any longer afterwards, then it was an arrangement worth sparing its life. Maybe.

But what should Izumi ask?

A way to find a great new weapon? A way to obtain even greater power? How to fill her pockets with gold? How to easily obtain fame and glory? Where and how to find true love? Izumi could only present one question and she couldn’t outright name the thing that she wanted the most, so a timeout was necessary.

Coming out of the woods, Izumi reported back to the quest giver, explaining that they had located the beast and that the preparations to remove it were underway. By tomorrow, she would either get rid of the manticore, or die trying—so she assured—and the cabbage farmer was more than pleased to learn this. Her conversation with the monster Izumi naturally refrained from sharing. The notion that she had struck a deal with a creature which had killed children and threatened the villagers’ lives, only for her own benefit, was not especially valorous, after all.

They likely would not have understood.

For the time being, however, Izumi was hailed no less a hero.

The news of her swift and unexpected progress spread throughout Elthauk over the course of the drowsy afternoon. People from all over came to congratulate her, and share various more or less useful tips for dealing with the monster. The champion and the bard were even invited to a feast, to be held later in the evening at the village elder’s longhouse.

Meanwhile, the cabbage farmer’s daughter, Inashe, kept the travelers company. She showed them around Elthauk, made them sandwiches, and took care of their horses. Inashe was a pleasant young lady in her mid-twenties, modest in looks but lively and warm in conduct. With the local topics fast exhausted, she ended up asking Izumi numerous questions about life as an adventurer. It made on Inashe a great impression how a woman of her own age—she innocently assumed—was making a living as a masculine hero, protecting the helpless around the realm.

Normally, Izumi would have doubtless taken full advantage of the attention, savored it, but on this particular occasion, she kept abnormally tight-lipped and avoided Inashe’s eager gaze the best she could. The exact cause to this change of character eluded Waramoti, but he speculated that the woman had not yet have fully overcome her depression from the earlier weeks.

“Hm…?” Nearing the end of the village tour, Izumi paused and gazed around, as though missing something. “Not to sound like I care all that much, but...where are all the guys?”

All the villagers they had encountered so far were either women, children, or elderly. It appeared that there were next to no working age males in all of Elthauk, which was more than a little odd, considering the abundance of farmland. Not very many locals could be seen working the fields either, as ripe as the wheat looked under the warm evening sun. A few more days like this, and it would go bad. Was the fear of the manticore keeping them from getting started?

“Are the men perhaps employed elsewhere?” Waramoti inquired their guide.

“That’s...” At this question, Inashe’s previously sunny expression clouded, and she struggled to produce an answer.

“What’s wrong?” Izumi asked, leaning closer. “They’re not all playing hooky, are they?”

Forcing a smile, Inashe withdrew, making dismissing gestures with her hands.

“Ah, I couldn’t trouble you any more than we already have!” she said. “This is our problem, and we need to deal with it ourselves, somehow. It is nothing compared to killing a manticore, after all.”

“Is that so?” Izumi stood back, puzzled. What kind of a problem could make all the men leave the village? Something less serious than a manticore? “Can’t I get another hint?”

“You are much too kind, caring about us little villagers so!” Inashe told her. “It really is nothing you need to trouble yourselves with. But if you really must know, then...there was a theft.”

“Theft?”

“Yes.” The villager mournfully nodded. “Something very important to us was taken, only a little while ago. Everyone able left to retrieve what was stolen, and they have yet to return. But pray worry not for our sake. I am sure it is only a matter of time before they come back. As I told you, it’s nothing so dangerous as what you are about to attempt, my lady.”

“A village harassed by beasts and thieves alike,” Waramoti remarked. “The Divines have no mercy on you, it seems.”

“Alas...” Inashe sighed, downcast, before soon raising her freckled face again, a spark of hope newly lit in her gaze. “But, I feel our luck is finally about to turn! With heroes like you here! Yes. The spirits must have heard our prayers and brought you to us. I am sure.”

“Ah, I hope so…” Izumi murmured, facing away. The guilt over her selfish plans burned her inside, and she hurried to look for a change of topic. Which she soon found too, within her field of vision. “...By the way, would the theft you mentioned have anything to do with that burned building?”

Along the highway, by the western exit of the village, stood a lengthy house—or had stood, now reduced to blackened, charred frames, the ceiling and walls entirely collapsed. It had clearly been destroyed in a fire, and yet, as if by a miracle, that doubtless intense blaze had spared the fields around, as well as the other nearby buildings.

At Izumi’s question, Inashe flashed a pained smile.

“As expected, there is nothing I can hide from a hero,” she said. “It is as you say. That building was burned down by the thief I mentioned, and what was inside was taken. It all happened before any one of us could even think to stop it.”

“I see.” Izumi mouthed, staring at the ruins.

“Ah, but now we have seen the whole village!” Inashe suddenly exclaimed. “It was not much, but this is our home. I couldn’t imagine any other place in the world where I’d rather live. If you help us keep it, then you have truly earned any reward we can give you and more. But now, I should leave you in peace, to plan your hunt, and go help my mother instead. Dear protectors, please treat all of Elthauk as your own. I shall come pick you up again when it is time for the feast.”

“Sure,” Izumi nodded. “Oh, just one more question before you go, I-chan.”

“Yes?” the villager, already about to leave, turned back at Izumi’s request. “What is it?”

“If you could get an answer to any one question of yours, what would you ask?”

“Eh? What do you mean by that?” Inashe laughed at the older woman’s weird query.

“Just a little play of thought. Anything in the world. Whatever you’ve wanted to know.”

“Let’s see...” Inashe thought, obediently playing along with Izumi’s whim, gazing over the golden fields about them. Then, making up her mind, she answered,

“——‘Where does hatred end?’ Yes, I suppose I’d ask that.”

“Huh…?” Izumi and Waramoti both raised their brows at the answer. Neither had expected to hear the word “hatred” from the lips of such a gentle person.

“Not that anyone could answer that!” Inashe laughed and hurried off. “See you!”

The young woman departed, her worn skirt hems fluttering, leaving Izumi and Waramoti to stand on the dusty cart path, puzzled, and suddenly quite uneasy.

4

The day slowly passed while the travelers sat by the well in the middle of the village, maintained their gear, sharpened and polished their weapons, and made plans for the future. And talked about a lot of nonsense, which had become an integral part of all their days on the road.

“What about you then?” Izumi asked. “What would you ask?”

“You still haven’t decided?” Waramoti exclaimed, while checking the tuning of his lute, in preparation for the feast. “It can’t be that hard!”

“No, it’s plenty hard, all right,” the earthling retorted. “There are countless things I want to know. How did Shinji and Asuka survive in the world after the Third Impact? Why didn’t Horikoshi let Naoko return to the sanatorium in time? Why was A2’s scenario cut out from the game and made into a stage play? Why does everyone praise the wrong Murakami? I’ve barely even begun to list the options. How am I supposed to pick just one question over all in a single day?”

“It needs to be about THIS world! A question the spirits of THIS land can answer!” the bard yelled at her. “Keep your queries to one planet, or we’ll never get anywhere!”

“Yes, yes,” Izumi sighed. “But when you get down to it, there aren’t a lot of things I really, really want to know about life here. How to power up? But I’m already kind of strong, aren’t I? Where to get a better weapon? I have the best possible, I think. How to get rich? But I’ve got a decent sum coming soon, that will last us a few months. I wouldn’t be able to carry mountains of gold around with me, even if I found a treasure. This is tough. I don’t think even the spirits can tell me things I really want to know, like how to easily vanquish the daemons, save the world, and build a functional harem.”

“So?” Waramoti shrugged. “Just ask the first thing that comes to your mind. If you don’t strictly need to know anything, then any answer is just as fine, yes? If I were you, I’d ask the manticore how to best kill it without fighting it.”

“Uh, that’s what a real hero would ask, isn’t it?” Izumi cringed. “Though it’s kinda...You think it would actually answer me?”

“It promised it would?” he replied.

“No, that would really be too pitiful,” she refused. “Using a favor to butcher it.”

“You’re the only weird one in the world, who would pity a monster.”

“What do you want me to say? I can relate to it, sort of.”

“Maybe you’re the pitiful one then,” the bard sighed.

“Never mind that. Ah, what am I going to ask? Should it be about love, after all? How can I get more popular and find the girl of m...”

Izumi abruptly trailed off mid-sentence.

Seeing no obvious cause for the stop, wondering if she was about to sneeze, Waramoti waited for the woman to resume, but Izumi only sat still, her lips parted, yet saying nothing, as if she had turned to stone.

“...What’s the matter?” the bard finally asked, glancing at her with some concern. “Hey, are you all right?”

The woman’s brows twisted into a pained frown and she stood up, taking a step away. Turning, she faced the sunset beyond the fields, visible past the rundown houses, and remained quiet for a considerable while.

“...No,” she finally mumbled under her breath. “This might be it for me.”

“Pardon me?”

“What’s going on?” Gritting her teeth, Izumi touched her chest, where her pulse beat painful and heavy. “It’s never hurt this bad before! Are you telling me...that was the real deal?”

“I can’t hear you,” the bard told her. “Speak up.”

“Ohrm!” Izumi shouted out the name of the Rune of Restoration.

Magical energy immediately began to flow through her limbs with unquestionable intensity. Beyond regenerating her physical form, it removed all traces of mental fatigue, exhaustion, and hunger, with swift and thorough effect. Yet, not even that miraculous spell could undo the raw ache she felt at her heart, like an open wound. It persisted, if not amplified, as her senses were made keener to feel it.

“Ohrm! Ohrm! Ohrm!” Izumi repeated, but the result wouldn’t change. “Damn it...”

“No, really, what are you doing?” the bard questioned her. “This is getting a little weird, even for you.”

“Even after two weeks...” she grunted. “How can I make this pain stop? Seems I have no other choice. I’ll have to ask the manticore.”

“Oi.” Waramoti followed Izumi’s odd behavior from a distance, his expression turning grim. “Are you being quite serious now? Get a hold of yourself! I assumed it would be fine if you were only playing around for your own amusement, but this is starting to sound a little more serious than that now. To begin with, do you have any guarantee that the answer you’ll receive will be honest? That the manticore can converse with spirits, as it claims? That it’s not simply tricking you to save its hide? No, this is the part where I should warn you against depending on monsters for easy answers. Listen to me here, foolish woman; never put your fate in the hands of a beast, unless you’re looking for an early grave! Do not ever open your heart to evil, or it’s your last mistake!”

“...’Don’t depend on powers greater than yourself’, and ‘there are no easy answers in life’,” Izumi spoke, dejected. “I’ve heard my fair share of these fortune cookie slogans and fairy tale punchlines by now. But, you know, whether I get an honest answer, or the monster eats me, I’m starting to think both options are just as fair.”

“You can’t mean that,” he scolded her. “Are you telling me you’ve already given up? On life?”

Izumi gave no answer, but turned and left walking down the village lane, wearing an unusually determined face. What would become of this, the bard pondered quietly to himself, unwilling to voice his concerns, lest they become real.

5

The sun began to set, the light cast on the village and its surroundings turned warmer and vibrant, and then Inashe returned, as she had promised, to take the heroes to the feast prepared in their honor. In actuality, the gathering was half to celebrate the travelers’ quest to defy the deadly manticore, and half to celebrate the fact that this secluded little village had received guests in the first place. Much ado about nothing in the eyes of an outsider, perhaps, but visitors were a rarity in these unpopular regions, and anyone was bound to grow tired of seeing the same faces day after day. Given this excuse to lighten up, who could fault the people of Elthauk for seizing it?

Izumi, shy as ever, would have preferred to be showered with less attention over her coincidental passage, but bravely endured it, deeming it an inescapable part of being a successful adventurer. Though she had found precious little success up until now, and success in this case remained yet ways ahead.

The village elder’s longhouse stood near the southern edge of the village, facing the woods, with only a narrow fence in between, yet no one appeared to fear the manticore in the company of a sword hero. Inside the building were the chieftain’s private quarters in the far east end, as well as a long hall for communal gatherings.

Like so many medieval-style dwellings, the hall had a lengthy, narrow gap in the ceiling, beneath which a semi-open, brick-walled fireplace had been constructed. Properly boarded floor there was also, and the fireplace was encircled by long, firm tables with numerous chairs, for the whole village to gather and dine together.

Yet, due to the continued absence of most males, the festivities tonight were left a tad lacking in noise and action. Although Elthauk was still far from deserted, there were lonely, wide gaps formed in the locals’ ranks, as they sat at the tables, and the sense of emptiness was overwhelming. How long would it take for the men to apprehend the thief and return, restoring life back to the village?

No one could say, or even guess.

Nevertheless, the promise to be delivered from the shadow of a murderous beast helped everyone overcome their initial stiffness and anxieties, and the feast could begin. Numerous dishes were laid out over the tables, products of local supply, cooked with creativity and tradition honed over untold generations. Modest in quality, maybe, but not lacking in quantity, at least. A lot of the food was vegetarian, in the absence of cattle, or hunters, but with good variety. The bread was freshly baked too and delicious. Ale and mead the villagers brewed too, and both guests of honor could bring themselves to appreciate these, if nothing else.

Waramoti entertained their hosts in his role as a minstrel, singing and playing his lute, reciting classic ballads, as well as his own poetry, inspiring great admiration and awe in the audience. The musician’s performance spared Izumi from many questions she was not comfortable with answering, for which she was very glad.

At the same time, Inashe, taking seat next to Izumi, made sure that the woman from another world wasn’t left entirely idle and forgotten.

“Did you try the cabbage casserole yet?” Inashe asked the hero. “It is my great-great-great-grandmother’s recipe. I’m very pleased with how it turned out this time. Even those who normally dislike cabbage have told me it’s wonderful.”

“Ah...Well, I’ll give it a try,” Izumi politely hid her lack of appetite, sampling a bit of all the foods passed her way.

“Yes. Eat plenty! No need to hold back for our sake. It is a dangerous task you’ve undertaken on our behalf. You will need all the strength you can muster.”

“You’ve got a point.”

Inashe looked down, clutched her cup of water, and her smile turned a bit wry.

“I’ve heard that manticores can’t be killed,” she said. “That they’re faster than the wind, stronger than the bull, and deadlier than the viper. The moment one sees you, you’re already dead. Do you really think you can do it?”

“Eh, we’ll have to see about that,” Izumi replied. Whether the legends were true or not, she was probably not going to test them in any event.

“Even faced with such a powerful enemy, you know no fear? How does one become so brave?”

“I’ve...met things worse than that, I think.”

“Ah, of course you would have. I keep forgetting you’re a hero. An explorer. Nothing like me, who knows only what’s within a hundred yards from my little cabin. I’m sorry. All my prattling must seem terribly childish to you.”

“Not really,” Izumi denied.

“Very kind of you to say that.” Lowering her voice, Inashe leaned closer and said, “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t blame you, even if you chose to run away. Whatever mother said we will pay you, it’s probably not enough for a task that dangerous. Am I wrong?”

“Well, it’s not just for the money,” Izumi said and lifted her ale tankard to her lips.

“Of course,” Inashe continued in a lighter tone, pulling back, “I’m very happy if you’re willing to try. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’ve barely dared to leave my house lately, fearing that the monster will appear and take me. So far, it’s been content with taking stray children, but what if it gets even hungrier? What if it decides to attack the houses? Our doors couldn’t hold it back. We have nothing to defend ourselves with. Not a single sword or a bow, and the men are away. It could take any one of us, whenever, and we’d have no way to resist it. If you succeed, it will certainly be like something out of legend.”

Izumi made no comment.

“Ah,” the young woman next to her exhaled a fond sigh. “I’d almost forgotten. That there could be selflessness in the world.”

“Hm?”

Izumi recalled Inashe’s cryptic words from earlier in the day, about the limits of hatred. Izumi had assumed it to have something to do with the alleged theft, what was taken and why, but was the story so simple, after all? Beside the occasional monster and thief, the villagers appeared to be at peace, earnest, and gentle—yet, Inashe’s speech and demeanor continued to exhibit an edge of unfitting, underlying bitterness and resignation.

What was lost had to have been truly priceless, to inspire such a grudge.

Or was the theft really the heart of the problem?

“Hey, I-chan.”

Thinking about it, Izumi felt she had to question another odd detail. She had noticed it as soon as she had first entered the hall, and dismissed it as part of the decor, but could contain her curiosity no more. Somehow, that object didn’t feel entirely unrelated to their conversation.

“You said there are no weapons in the village—but what’s that then?”

In the western end of the long hall, struck deep into a sawed-off, horizontal block near the ceiling, was a hefty axe. By the looks of it, the weapon was not a simple working tool, with a wide Damascus blade and a short handle, a pair of long, black feathers attached to it. True to Inashe’s statement, Izumi hadn’t seen any weapons in the village during her tour, save for just that one.

For a simple decorative element, the axe appeared highly out-of-place. Why would a village of drowsy farmers possess a solitary tool so clearly intended for murder? It really was odd.

“That’s...” Inashe’s expression tensed as she answered, and she avoided looking at the item in question. “...That is our hate.”

“Hate?”

“Oh, mother is calling for me,” the young lady suddenly spoke. “I’ll be back soon, Lady Izumi! Please, enjoy the food and drink!”

Quickly getting up from her seat, Inashe hurried across the hall, to where her parent was beckoning her, and the pair of them disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen.

“—That, my friend, is a war axe.”

Finished with his performance for the time being, Waramoti returned to his seat, right of Izumi. Having overheard parts of the conversation, he now answered Izumi on Inashe’s behalf.

“A...war axe?” Izumi parroted, with a no less puzzled look.

“Indeed. I was surprised to see one here myself,” the bard replied, tearing off a large mouthful of bread with his canines. “Doesn’t seem like their style.”

“What does it mean? Is there a war going on?”

“It’s symbolic,” he told her. “A very old custom, known throughout the continent. Every tribe used to have one. When a community has suffered great injustice, they dig out their war axe and put it somewhere out in the open, like that. So long as it’s there, revenge lives, until the injustice has been repaid—usually, by killing the offender—and the axe is then buried.”

“Is that so?” Izumi stared at the axe and thought. “Think it’s got to do with the theft?”

“Probably?” Waramoti shrugged. “What else could have insulted the villagers so? They barely have any contact with the outside world. You wouldn’t swear vengeance on a beast, only another person.”

“What do you suppose was stolen then? Doesn’t seem like anyone wants to tell me.”

“To answer that, you ought to first ask, what could a village like Elthauk have that is worth taking in the first place? Can’t be money, if gathering just forty silver is so much effort. I doubt strangers like us could figure it out, now that it’s gone. It could be virtually anything. Even something that has no real value in our eyes, but which has historical or emotional significance only to these people.”

“Wouldn’t the thief have to find it valuable too?” Izumi asked. “To sell it?”

“Not necessarily,” the bard shook his head. “The thief may want to demand ransom from Elthauk, and return the object in exchange for money or other commodities. Rather than going from house to house to search whatever valuables they may have, it’s better to make the villagers themselves do the work. Good strategy, I’ve seen a lot of that. Of course, it’s usually a person the bandits take. The village elder’s daughter, or someone else of suitably high standing. People are more likely to pay ransom for their loved ones than an inanimate object, as a rule.”

“Then, it wasn’t really a theft but a kidnapping?” she thought. “Whoever lived in the burned house was abducted?”

“Could be?” he shrugged. “As said, we can’t really know, if they’re not willing to talk about it.”

“Hm,” Izumi stared into her tankard, shaking it in her absentminded grip. “But if that’s the case, would the men then have left to take back a human hostage by force? No, there’s the risk that the kidnapped person will be killed or injured, or the stolen object destroyed in revenge. It wouldn’t be a very smart move.”

“Izumi,” Waramoti turned to her, mixing his nettle soup. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but not everyone in the world is ‘very smart’, or even just a little. Never mind. I’m no investigator, or a guardsman, that’s for sure. Neither am I a warrior—anymore. Once you’re done with your little monster problem, we should be well on our way out of this place. Can’t say I’ll be too sorry to do so. Something’s not quite right about Elthauk or her inhabitants, if you don’t mind me saying. Nobody here knows ‘Redhood Riley’. Are they from another planet too? Hm? What’s wrong, aren’t you eating? It’s pretty good.”

“I’m not that hungry,” Izumi mumbled, pushing away her plate.

“Right, because you used Ohrm before. What a nifty spell to have. Think you could teach it to me? It would sure save a lot in travel expenses. Not to mention time, since we wouldn’t need to stop to cook ever so often.”

“All it does is remove the sense of hunger for a while,” the woman replied. “It won’t fill your stomach. I’m practically undead, so my energy consumption is lower than normal. But you’re still a growing boy, so don’t hold back. I’ll give you my portion too.”

“Why are you acting like a caring mother all of a sudden? It’s gross!” the bard groaned. Not that he really was against a hearty meal. As a rule.

6

The feast went on late into the night. Izumi was unable to shake off the persistent feeling that something dreadful was going to happen, yet the celebration ended without an incident. There wasn’t even a friendly scuffle. Afterwards, the summoned champion and her companion were invited to spend the night at the house of Inashe and her mother, an offer which they gladly accepted after camping outdoors for so long.

Restful silence spread over Elthauk together with the coming of the dark.

One by one, lights went out in the buildings along the dusty central road, and all sounds died down. Through all this, Izumi continued to think about her question to the manticore, setting aside other concerns. Strength or wisdom? Wealth or fame? Or perhaps a way to undo past mistakes? Which of these many choices was the best one, or was any? It was possible that the wisest move of all was to simply follow through with her promise to the villagers, slay the manticore, and free the continent of that carnivorous menace.

Then, a new day eventually dawned.

Stirring at sunrise before anyone else, Izumi left her resting place on the living room floor, got dressed, and went out for a morning stroll to clear her head. She followed the road through the village, to the west exit and the burned house a stone’s throw ahead. She walked past the blackened remains of the past offense, gazed over the fields, smelled the wind, paused, stretched, and then turned back.

By the time Izumi returned to the well in the middle of Elthauk for a drink, she found the bard up and about, feeding their horses and packing up their few belongings.

“Morning,” Waramoti greeted the woman. “Where did you go?”

“To do radio calisthenics,” Izumi replied.

“The heck is that?” Waramoti retorted by reflex, and then grimaced. “Ow, you wouldn’t happen to have found a cure for hangover yet? I didn’t think I had all that much ale last night, yet I’m feeling oddly weak and under the weather today...”

“...” Izumi said nothing, but stared at the youth with a concerned little frown.

Wondering if she wasn’t actually worried about him, the young man hurried to dispel her concerns,

“Oh, it’s not that bad. It should pass once we get moving. Which is what we should do as soon as you’re done with your business. Well? Have you decided what to ask of the manticore yet?”

“Yeah,” Izumi slowly answered after a pause. “I think I’ve got it now.”

“So it’ll be about love then?” he asked. “How to mend a broken heart?”

“No.” The woman shook her head. “There’d be no meaning in asking a heartless monster such questions, just as you said. No spirit can tell me what only I may know. There’s only one question to make, and an answer to be had, a little more important than my private feelings.”

“Really? Like what?”

Waramoti couldn’t understand her meaning.

“I’ll be back soon.”

Not explaining any further either, Izumi walked past the bard and departed in the forest’s direction. For a moment, Waramoti pondered if he should follow her, just in case, but ultimately decided against it. While he was committed to record her adventures in full, without missing a single detail, this was Izumi’s personal business, and whatever she was going to ask was not necessarily something that should be shared with the rest of the wide world. Even if the deal with the manticore turned into a fight in the end, there was very little he could do to help her, even were he there, other than get in the way. He could always ask her to describe the situation afterwards, as he had done with the earlier parts of her journey. And he really was feeling kind of sluggish this morning.

Therefore, Waramoti returned to preparing their horses, fastening the saddles and saddlebags, while deliberating whether to include this little episode in his grand epic at all. What little worries the aspiring songwriter might have had were proved needless too, as the woman from another world returned after barely an hour had passed, looking neither bloodied nor disappointed, albeit not particularly fulfilled either.

In fact, there was an unusually tense, resolved look on her face, as if the true battle were still only ahead.

Inashe’s mother, their quest giver, came with the woman.

“There was something you wished to talk about?” the villager stopped and asked, while Izumi went on to pick up her bag.

“Yup,” Izumi turned back and answered the peasant. “The job’s done. The manticore will trouble you no more. I was wondering if you weren’t willing to pay my reward now, so that we can get going?”

“What?” The cabbage farmer appeared unable to believe her ears. Everyone knew what the plan was, but they had only just gotten off the bed, and this monstrous undertaking was already wrapped up? It sounded a tad too incredible.

“I’m telling you, the bogey’s gone,” Izumi confirmed. “You’re safe. And you owe me forty silver for that.”

“...Just like that?” the older woman shifted her gaze between Izumi and the bard, expecting more details. “Don’t mean to offend you, ma’am, but can you actually prove that you did as was asked?”

“No, I didn’t lop off the monster’s head and carry it back with me, if that’s what you wanted,” Izumi replied. “It wasn’t the kind of a head you’d want stuffed on your wall, anyway. I know you want proof of the kill, but I’m afraid I can’t get any for you. Since the beast is not here anymore.”

“Is not here? That doesn’t mean it’s dead, does it? You mean to say, it took off on its own? But then, why should we pay you, when you did nothing?”

Listening to the exchange, Waramoti sighed. No matter how you looked at it, Izumi’s conduct was rather unprofessional. As much was likely to be expected, seeing as it was her first ever monster-slaying contract, and he blamed himself for not going with her, after all.

But what the woman said next stunned him.

“The beast’s not here, because I made it go away. And unless you pay me what you owe, I will make this whole village disappear the same way.”

As expected, the cabbage farmer was even more astonished by the outrageous declaration than the poet, and fell pale, staggering back.

“W-why do you say such things?” she gasped. “Are you threatening us now!?”

“Take it as you will,” Izumi replied with nonchalance. “I’m kindly asking you to pay what you promised—though I doubt you can. After all, this village doesn’t have any silver, does it? You’d be lucky to scoop together ten coppers in all.”

“Have you gone mad?” the farmer asked, bitter, scowling at the woman. “Why do you go accusing us like that? What did we ever do to you? We celebrated you like a hero, and you cheat and insult us?”

“You can drop the act now, auntie,” the champion continued, unrelenting. “I did my part and got rid of the manticore. I’ve been perfectly honorable here. Meanwhile, you never had any intention of paying me. I daresay you didn’t actually care about the monster in the first place. You just wanted us to stay, by whatever excuse. Then who’s the cheater, really?”

“That is preposterous!” the peasant exclaimed.

“You won’t pay me then?” Izumi asked. “Last chance.”

“You bet I won’t! Of course! Rather, I should be asking you to pay us! For the food and shelter we gave you, though you deserved none of it!”

“Very well then. As promised, I’ll make this village disappear.”

“Madness! This is an outrage! Don’t think you can just say whatever you please and get away with it!”

Looking deeply upset and insulted to the core, Inashe’s mother turned and departed down the village road in a hurry. Her deeply wrathful glare made it apparent that her parting remark was not an empty threat. She would tell everyone in Elthauk about the adventurers’ betrayal, and what would follow wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I’m afraid I must share our landlady’s reaction,” Waramoti turned to tell Izumi. “What are you doing? What did the manticore tell you?”

“No time for exposition now,” Izumi answered him. “Leave your luggage. We have to go.”

“What? Where?”

“The only place we can go.”

The woman left jogging south, past the houses, towards the longhouse in the village’s limit. Profoundly confused, Waramoti ran after her. Though his own life was on the line and leaving the village as soon as possible might have been the better idea, he felt he should at least commit to memory the summoned champion’s final moments in all their seeming deranged aimlessness.

The door of the longhouse was locked. Izumi didn’t give up after a shake, however, but invoked the Rune of Power and kicked the door in, off its hinges, and entered. She really seemed resolved to burn all the bridges. What could the people of Elthauk have done to anger the normally ambivalent woman so, the bard couldn’t claim to understand. Were they really not going to pay? But how could she know that?

Inside the hall, Izumi’s eyes first sought out the kitchen entrance on the left.

“Watch the door,” she told the bard and hurried into the back room, from which a lot of noise soon carried, as she apparently rummaged through all the cupboards and closets in search of something, throwing pots and kettles around.

As could be easily predicted, the villagers weren’t going to merely sit back and let the rowdy guests do whatever they pleased, no matter how they were told to make themselves at home. From the wrecked doorway, Waramoti soon saw the gathering locals hurry along the road towards the longhouse, alarmed by the cabbage farmer.

None of the faces looked pleased by the news, nor amenable to reason, even if any such could be found. Some of the folk had armed themselves with shovels, hoes, pitch forks, kitchen knives, and other typical tools, which had many times proved their effectiveness in ruining people’s lives.

It was going to turn into a fight, no doubt about it.

Unless Izumi could provide a particularly good explanation for her rampage—and likely all the coin they had left in their pockets.

This the summoned woman did not seem intent on providing.

Indeed, had she not declared that she would make all the villagers disappear?

True enough, Izumi had sent a considerable count of souls out of this world by now, she had the means to carry out her threat. Still, she normally adhered to—an admittedly crooked—sense of justice, and wouldn’t provoke innocent civilians, or those weaker than herself, just to murder them. Something was seriously off.

In a moment, the champion in question emerged from the kitchen with a content smile on her face, carrying a little metal box under her arm. Surely she didn’t raid the kitchen in search of early breakfast, under such circumstances? Waramoti had never heard that manticores were capable of cursing people into insanity, but magic was the only plausible explanation he could think for her current, senseless behavior.

As the villagers drew closer, the bard was forced to leave the doorway and seek safety with the madwoman who had started it all, seeing as she was the only one of the two equipped with a weapon. The angry people of Elthauk flooded into the longhouse hall like riled up ants, confronting the pair of travelers. Chiefly women, children, and elderly they might have been, but this didn’t lessen the threatening, bloodthirsty mood. Among the whole crowd, young Inashe appeared to be the only one harboring any will to understand the insolent guests.

“Why!?” that young lady desperately questioned Izumi, placing herself between the front line and the accused. “Did you really threaten my mother? Why did you let the monster get away? Please, tell me—why are you doing this to us, Lady Izumi? Didn’t you come here to save us!?”

“That I did,” Izumi replied, standing her ground. “The quest objectives slightly changed along the way, that’s all. I was hoping I could still get a coin or two before all’s said and done, but I suppose it won’t be that easy. Because saving you lot means going without pay.”

“What are you talking about!?”

“Nothing much. I’m wasting my breath talking to you guys, that’s for sure. I just wanted to try my hand at this monster-hunting business, now that I had the chance. But I can’t get away from my true calling as a hero, can I? Maybe it really is my destiny?”

“Hey...” Even Waramoti felt that Izumi’s nonsense was getting borderline cruel.

“Yeah, yeah.” the woman sighed. “The reason. What is the real evil threatening Elthauk? Are we talking about a monster stalking innocent villagers? Or is the real problem perhaps in the innocent villagers themselves? When you look close enough, the true answer becomes apparent.”

“You’re calling us evil here!?” Inashe shouted, on the verge of tears. “Did we deserve to have a monster to prey on us?”

The so-called hero’s words sure didn’t help the villagers’ wrath. If anything, she was only throwing fuel to the fire. They all kept grinding their teeth, tighter gripping their improvised weapons, nearing the extreme limits of their tolerance.

“Not at all,” Izumi answered with frustrating calmness. “To begin with, the monster was only red herring. Your problem was nothing as straightforward as that. Well, rest assured, even though you didn’t ask me to, I’ll give you all peace. Since I found the way to do that.”

“Hey, start making sense already!” Waramoti felt inclined to intervene, seeing the mob inch closer. “If you’re going to take the villain’s path here, then hurry up and get on with it! Your sword is now the only thing between us and a very painful death!”

“Geez, were you even paying attention?” Izumi told the young man with a scowl. “I’m definitely the hero here, and a not a villain, or even an anti-hero. Maybe not Lawful Good, but at least Chaotic Good. There’s not one evil bone in my body. And I got something better than a sword for this occasion.”

As the villagers, mad with fury, looked about ready to lunge at the pair, Izumi stuffed her hand into the metal box she was carrying, through the open top of it. Casually pulling her hand out, she proceeded to toss something at the bystanders.

Some sort of powder, the bard observed, white as snow.

Flour? No…

A cloud of that mysterious substance raining down on them, the villagers of Elthauk—immediately recoiled in horror and agony.

Reflexively dropping their weapons, they started wiping, clawing, and scratching themselves, convulsing and shrieking, as if the powder burned them terribly. Izumi walked on, casually throwing more and more of that vile matter at them, disregarding the poor people’s torment. Forced to give way, the locals withdrew into the doorway and outside, writhing and rolling, doing all they could to get the abominable toxin off them.

Waramoti followed the mad scene with heavily twisted brows, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at the sheer absurdity of it all. What was in the box? Lye…? Then how badly had Izumi burned herself? Apparently, not at all. Wiping her hand in her coat front, Izumi handed the box to Waramoti.

“Make sure they keep back.”

Looking into the box closer, smelling it, tasting it, Waramoti shortly identified the secret weapon, his frown yet deepened by the revelation.

“...Salt?”

“What else?” Izumi replied. “You taught me that one yourself. That salt is effective against spirits.”

“You were actually listening back then?”

“Of course? Since it was important.”

“Wait a minute,” he paused. “Spirits...? Does that mean—the people of Elthauk are...”

“Ghosts,” the woman confirmed. “Yeah. Long dead, every last one of them.”

Finding that his extensive vocabulary had suddenly escaped him, Waramoti could only express his sentiment through a very simple-minded exclamation,

“What the Hel?”

“That’s the thing.”

“But, when did you notice…?”

“Not right away,” Izumi explained. “They look convincingly human on the outside, don’t they? The ghosts of this world are something else. But there were a lot of things off about the village, and the more I looked at it, the more it bothered me. These people are all farmers, they grow their own food. But the fields around are a mess. The cabbage farm grows weed, thistles, and inedible garbage. The cabbages themselves are only an afterthought in there. I-chan and her mom work hard every day, yet the field looks like nobody’s touched it in a long, long time. How can two people make so little progress? Are they only pretending to be working? No. It’s not that they aren’t working, their hands simply can’t make a lasting difference. Since they’re not real. The same goes for all the other houses and fields too. Buckwheat’s been ripe for weeks, but they won’t touch it. The sun’s burning it, they’re going to lose the harvest, but it doesn’t seem to bother these people. Naturally, since it’s not real food they need to exist.”

“Real food…?” Waramoti muttered.

“Yeah. That part sealed the deal,” Izumi nodded. “Everything served at the feast last night looked fresh and good. But where did they get the ingredients, if the fields are untouched and neglected? It’s not a hangover that’s bothering you. It’s the fact that all the offerings were a sham. Illusions. We’ve been without real food or drink for almost two days. Anyone would start to feel faint by now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bard mouthed.

“Oh, wish I was. Even I got pretty anxious back there.”

“Anxious?”

“Totally,” she answered. “You see, at the feast, I was suddenly reminded of this old story from my home world. The story of Izanami and Izanagi, the founding gods of my land.”

“And how is that related to Elthauk?”

“Just listen. In the myth, Izanami died giving birth to Kagutsuchi, the god of fire, and fell into the underworld, where all the dead spirits reside. Unable to cope with the loss, Izanagi went after her into the underworld, to bring Izanami back to the world of the living with him. But he was too late. Izanami had already eaten with the spirits and couldn’t leave, for if you dine with the dead, you must join them.”

“What…?” the bard gasped.

“It’s a story from another world, yes. But in things related to myths and monsters, there are a lot of parallels between this world and my old. Though they’re not real there, we have stories about manticores too, elves, and gods, and so on. That’s why, I was breaking into cold sweat. And for a good reason, it turns out. Early in the morning, I went out for a walk and tried to leave the village, but found that I couldn’t. We’ve already become trapped here, under their spell. Without real food, we’ll eventually die and get stuck in this limbo forever. Elthauk isn’t troubled by monsters or bandits—it’s cursed.”

“I don’t believe it...is what I’d like to say, but I have no choice, do I?” Waramoti sighed. “The villagers’ reaction leaves few alternatives.”

“It’s true,” Izumi nodded. “That’s why, after confirming my theory this morning, I made up my mind. My first course of action was to go back to the manticore. It was not a phantom or an illusion, but a genuine monster, after all. How can I break the curse on Elthauk? That was my question. It gave me an honest answer too, and so I let it go.”

“It answered you? Then what is the way?”

“Before I tell you the method, I should tell you why the village was cursed, right? Well, you probably know already. Since you’re the one who gave me the answer.”

“I did?” Waramoti asked, puzzled. “When did I do that?”

“Last night. The reason is right there, before our eyes.”

Izumi pointed up and behind her—at the axe embedded into the wall.

“The war axe…?” Waramoti guessed. “Ah, I see.”

“It’s not just an oath of vendetta, is it? You put the axe there to remind everyone who sees it of the injustice you’ve suffered, and urge them to look for payback. The axe is up until the villain is killed and justice served. But what if justice is never served? What if the crime goes unavenged? Doesn’t that sound a whole lot like a curse to you?”

“Normally, it shouldn’t come to that,” the bard said. “But a powerful grudge can take on a life of its own. It does involve the whole community, after all. If one or more people in Elthauk possessed magical aptitude in life, even if unaware of it, the effect of such an oath could become...unpredictable.”

“The cause of the vendetta is the burned building,” Izumi continued. “That’s the real problem of this village. Who burned it and what exactly was taken? Bandits raided the place and stole something of great value—so we were led to believe. The villagers raised the war axe, swearing revenge, and all the able-bodied men left to chase after the villains. But this story is also false.”

“What do you mean, false?”

“We talked about this. There’s nothing worth stealing in Elthauk. No coin. No rare minerals. No relics or valuables. Nothing to exchange for ransom. Why would bandits even waste their time assaulting a dreary, dirt-poor settlement in the middle of nowhere? Then burn only one building and leave the rest untouched? Well, they didn’t. No bandit attacked this village. The important thing stolen was...the able-bodied men themselves.”

“You mean to say, they were taken by slavers or some such?” Waramoti asked.

“No, moron,” Izumi shook her head. “I was just trying to wax poetic there. Think. Had that happened, they wouldn’t have left cuties like I-chan behind, right? Or any children. No way. As I said, nobody attacked the village, and nothing was actually stolen either. What I meant to say was that—the men stole themselves, in a way. That is, they just took off.”

“What...?”

“This town’s been abandoned for a while. Several decades, probably. I imagine that not every year was as favorable for harvest as this one. The villagers saw famine and strife, living at the mercy of nature and wildlife. Discontent with their lot, the younger folk wanted to leave, move to a wealthier village, town, or a city. But the elders must have opposed. They’d spent their whole lives here, cultivating the land. They couldn’t abandon their life’s work, inherited from their ancestors. But as time went on, the discord grew, and the younger generations ended up taking more drastic measures. That burned building—was a storage shed. With it destroyed, they had no grain left for winter, not one turnip. The elders would have no choice but to give in and agree to leave. But it must’ve not gone according to the plan. Not even the arson could make all the villagers agree to abandon their homes. Those who could leave cut their ties and deserted the village, taking all they could carry with them. While those left behind declared the leavers as traitors, and swore a vendetta...”

Both of them now turned to look at the ornate axe on the wall.

“...An oath impossible for them to fulfill, and thus they condemned themselves,” Waramoti concluded Izumi’s sentence. “Now I understand. The villagers who were left behind starved to death in the following winter, unable to find even the comfort of revenge. Their grudge kept their souls from passing on. Here they invite unfortunate travelers to stay and dine with them, trapping others in a never-ending curse. What a terrible tale.”

“Yes,” Izumi nodded. “And how to dismantle this nasty trap was what I had to rely on the manticore for. Fortunately, the solution is simple. Had I thought about it a little more, I should’ve figured it out on my own, instead of wasting the question, but what’s done is done.”

“You could’ve just asked me?” Waramoti pointed out. “Since I told you about the axe in the first place. My village had one too. No, they probably have it even now. The only ways to end the vendetta are to kill the one who offended you—or, to simply let go of hatred and revenge, and bury the war axe.”

“Well, it’s not all the same where you bury the axe either,” Izumi added. “It needs to be done where the offense originally occurred. In this case, in the ashes of the burned storage.”

“I admit, I didn’t know that much,” the bard conceded. “Let us then agree that it was worthwhile to consult the manticore instead of myself in this case.”

“I had another reason not to consult you too,” the woman added with a pout.

“Oh? And that is?”

Reaching out her hand in passing, Izumi ruffled the bard’s hair against his feeble protests and said, “It’s not cool for an adult like me to rely on a dumb brat at every turn.”

“I’m not a kid, though! Knock it off!” Waramoti resisted.

Ignoring him, Izumi went on to climb up the log-made wall and yanked off the axe from its resting place.

7

By the end of that day, not a soul could be seen in Elthauk. The dead had found rest, willing or not, and the trapped travelers were free to resume their journey, carrying no glorious reward, yet taking solace in knowing that no other would fall victim to the wrath from a bygone age. Their initially selfish quest had turned out unexpectedly noble by the end of it, and both could ride on with a clear conscience.

Even more so than for the deed itself and its consequences, Waramoti was relieved to observe that his travel companion had returned close to her usual self. As if the past weeks’ apathy were but a distant memory now, Izumi hummed some upbeat otherworldly song to herself, as she patted her dutiful mount and dreamed of future endeavors. She hadn’t given up on living yet, like the inhabitants of Elthauk had, and here was the real reward.

For surely courage and hope for the future were more valuable and rare than even purest gold.

Yet, as pleasant as this conclusion was, there was one little detail which continued to haunt Waramoti, while he wrote his notes. As the travelers neared the neighboring village of Milhauwe by the end of the day, his unease had grown to the point that he felt compelled to voice it.

“Izumi, a question, if I may?”

“Eh, what is it?” the woman called back.

“The people of Elthauk were all phantoms, yes? Dangerous to the living, but ultimately intangible, unable to leave a lasting impression on the world about them. Am I correct in assuming so?”

“Yes?” Izumi glanced over her shoulder. “You saw it yourself. After we buried the axe, there was nobody left in the village. They were all dead from the start.”

“Indeed, I could verify as much with my two eyes,” he nodded. “It would have been impossible for any living being to endure in the company of ghosts for long, anyway. Such specters cannot exist without siphoning the natural energies in their surroundings for fuel, which should include the souls of the living. Long-term exposure to a whole community of the dead would be lethal to anyone.”

“Then, what’s the matter? I thought we cleared up everything?”

“We did, sure, everything pertaining to the curse of Elthauk, at any rate. But, it so happens I still have one little question left without an answer.”

“What kind of a prelude is this?” Izumi groaned. “Hit me with the bad news already.”

Clearing his throat, unsure of if he even wanted an answer, Waramoti then spoke, not so much on his own behalf, but that of his future readers,

“If all the villagers were ghosts and none of them killed by the manticore, then what were those tracks I found in the buckwheat field? They were fresh, physical, left recently by a material being, a human child, which the beast confessed to have eaten. Who was that child then, if not a ghost of Elthauk?”

“Ah...” Izumi’s jaw dropped.

Close to Milhauwe’s entrance, the travelers saw a chubby, middle-aged woman run out along the road to meet them, looking distinctly distraught and frantic.

“Travelers! Dear travelers!” the woman called out to the two on their horses. “Have you seen my boy? My poor boy child went missing two days ago, and we can’t find him anywhere! Oh Lords! I fear a monster has taken him! Will you help us look? Please, I will pay you anything you ask! Just help find my dear boy, or whatever took him!”

The Village of Liars | END