Rohenberg, one of the medium-sized cities of the North.
Balt burst out in anger.
“Tch. They should’ve just done things the way they always have. What’s supposed to change with only four people?”
He was a merchant who made his living on seasonal trade.
The raids of the highland peoples, led by the Steel-Scale Tribe, were an event repeated every year.
Thus, hiring armed forces such as mercenary companies or adventurers was essential, and merchants like Balt prepared goods for them every year.
Food, weapons, medical supplies, even women.
But this year, half of what he had prepared was likely to remain as inventory.
Because the great Northern Grand Duke had decided to invest the money for hiring mercenary troops elsewhere this year.
Mages of the Magic Tower.
They were the culprit that had dropped Rohenberg’s mercenary deployment rate to less than sixty percent compared to the previous year.
“Father. Still, they say one of them caught twelve wyverns.”
“You brat. You believe that?”
At his son’s words, still not quite out of childhood, Balt snorted.
He had done business in the North for more than twenty years.
By this time of year, he knew exactly what kind of political propaganda the higher-ups would spread.
“Remember this, my son. Rumors, by nature, contain at least eighty percent nonsense nine times out of ten.”
“Then isn’t that just a lie?”
“Now you have finally grasped the truth. This father of yours is pleased.”
A single mage had defeated a flock of wyverns alone—the second coming of a dragonslayer.
Thanks to the great mage’s black-flame magic, not a single person had died despite the wyvern attack.
Just hearing the story, he sounded like a miraculous hero.
But Balt did not believe it.
‘They’re probably advertising something caught after hundreds of sacrifices as if the mage sir caught it all by himself.’
Only then could they put forward the justification that “hiring mages instead of mercenaries was the right choice.”
By nature, those in high places never admitted their mistakes.
“Still, they say he’s a Fifth Circle mage, so couldn’t it be true?”
“Hmph. Fourth Circle or Fifth Circle, it’s only a difference of one. What could be so different about that? At best, he’d be better than three or four Fourth Circle mages.”
Balt had seen countless mages while doing business.
The skill of Fourth Circle mages, called first-rate by the world, was certainly remarkable.
How shocked had he been long ago when he saw dozens of barbarian soldiers blown away by a single spell from a Fourth Circle mage?
Balt was not denying the power of mages.
He merely knew that mages were neither invincible nor superhuman.
Ever since he had witnessed a mage who had felled dozens of barbarians have his head taken off by a charge from the Bima Tribe, that conviction had never once wavered.
“If you have time to say such useless things, think about how to sell the goods piled up in the warehouse, you brat. Unless you want to watch your father die of frustration.”
“……”
“Hm? You brat. Answer me!”
Balt turned his head.
He saw his son sitting there blankly, mouth hanging open.
‘What’s he doing? Did some beauty pop out from somewhere?’
Grumbling, Balt turned his head.
“Huh?”
It took less than a second for him to make the exact same expression as his son.
Something even more incredible than a beauty had entered his sight.
A monster’s corpse.
“Hogzilla???”
—Crack.
He heard the sound of his conviction splintering.
*
“Hogzilla? Is that a Hogzilla?”
“Th-that’s a Mountain Lord, right?”
“It is. It is. How in the world can this be? What on earth happened?”
The citizens of Rohenberg gathered together and murmured.
Hogzilla.
A boar-type monster called the Mountain Lord in the North.
It was a type of hybrid beast created by crossbreeding a giant boar and a wild boar.
Its weight alone was at least three tons. When they moved in herds, even trolls were reduced to their meals—one of the worst predators of the North.
It was infamous as a monster controlled by the Snub-Nose Tribe, one of the ten strongest powers among the highland peoples.
Hadn’t an entire mercenary company been attacked by two Hogzillas and wiped out just three days ago?
That symbol of terror had become a corpse, and three of them at that, loaded one after another onto carts and entering the city.
The citizens were busy rubbing their eyes again and again, wondering whether this was a dream or reality.
“That bastard?”
Among those driving the carts, Balt spotted a familiar face.
Jean. A rival merchant who, to Balt, was no different from an infuriating enemy.
Normally, he would have cursed the moment he saw him and turned his head, but today he had no choice but to make an exception.
“Hey. What on earth happened here?”
“Balt, is that you?”
Jean spoke.
The unlucky bastard who would normally have cursed him the instant they met was oddly calm.
No. Rather than calm, this was—
‘He’s out of his mind, isn’t he? Look at that face, like he’s been possessed by a ghost.’
“What kind of trick did you pull? You caught Mountain Lords, and three of them at that?”
“We didn’t catch them. The noble personage did.”
“Noble personage?”
Jean nodded.
Balt was dumbfounded.
‘Has this bastard gone mad?’
The Jean he knew was a money-grubber second to none.
He was courteous before a great deal of money and before people who had a great deal of money, but that did not mean he showed them respect.
Now was different.
There was sincerity in his voice.
“Who on earth is he?”
Balt carefully looked over the people near the carts.
No one stood out.
“He isn’t here.”
“What? Then don’t tell me—”
“Ahem! What do you take that person for, harboring such irreverent thoughts!”
“Hah!”
It was real. It was not an act.
Balt was flustered by Jean’s reaction, genuinely angry over a small slip of the tongue.
“The noble personage entrusted us with transporting the Mountain Lords and departed in haste. To catch the chief of the Snub-Nose Tribe.”
“What?!”
Balt wondered if he had misheard.
Five years ago, he had by chance had an opportunity to see the chief of the Snub-Nose Tribe.
A human weapon who rode a monster one head larger than other Hogzillas, swinging a chain-flail and smashing people’s skulls!
And now, someone called a noble personage was said to be chasing that monster.
In other words, that monster was running away from the noble personage!
Normally, he would have grabbed Jean by the collar first, shouting, “Did you never learn what happens when you get caught lying?”
But now, he could not.
Because there was clear evidence in the form of Hogzilla corpses.
“What kind of knight could…”
“He is not a knight.”
“What?”
“The noble personage is a mage. And the most famous one in the North recently, at that. You must have heard his name too.”
“Don’t tell me?”
The conversation he had had with his son flashed through his mind.
Good God. That had been true? It wasn’t some wordplay-style political propaganda at the level of technically not lying?
Balt could not possibly believe it.
But before even a day had passed, he had no choice but to believe it.
That evening, he saw it.
The dignified procession entering Rohenberg.
The Hogzilla corpse as large as a house loaded on a cart.
The head of the Snub-Nose Tribe’s chief hanging from a pole.
The mage in a black cloak, walking proudly with a wyvern skull slung over his back like a pack.
“Hurrah! Hurrah for Sir Danil!”
“Hurrah for the Dragonslayer!”
The citizens’ cheers struck Balt’s ears.
“It was true. It was really true.”
Balt acknowledged it.
This year’s hero was not a fake dressed up in political propaganda.
A true hero who had beaten down real monsters.
Toward him, Balt clapped.
With all his heart.
*
Rohenberg regained its vitality.
It was hard to believe this was the same city that, until yesterday, had been filled with heavy silence and unease due to frequent barbarian attacks.
The citizens welcomed the heroes who had restored life to Rohenberg.
“Hurrah! Hurrah for Sir Danil!”
“Magic Knight Sir Danil has defeated the Snub-Nose Tribe!”
“The hero of Kazan! Danil of the Black Flame!”
“Danil! Danil! Danil!”
The cries of hurrah did not stop.
Men and women, old and young alike, all shouted and cried Danil’s name.
“Hurrah for Danil the Dragonslayer!”
“Ugh!”
Danil, who had been silently waving his hand, stiffened.
“Haa. Seriously. I wish they wouldn’t say that.”
“What a luxurious worry, Supervisor Danil. It’s a title the knights of the Empire are dying to hear.”
“I’m not a knight, I’m a mage, Irina.”
“Honestly.”
The woman walking beside him, Irina, sighed.
She looked to be in her early twenties, and her wavy blond hair stood out, but what drew the eye even more was the scale armor she wore and the large scythe she carried on her back.
The frozen bloodstains remaining on the scythe’s blade made it clear that she was not some clown imitating a grim reaper, but a warrior.
“Manage your expression first. If people see you, nothing good will come of it.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Ordinary citizens might not know, but anyone whose job involves dealing with people will notice right away.”
“Mm.”
Danil corrected his business smile and waved again.
The citizens’ cheers grew even louder.
Irina nodded.
“That’s how you should do it.”
“Politics really is troublesome.”
“Bear with it, Dragonslayer. Or what? Do you intend to personally show me why the saying ‘the first time is a mistake, the second time is deliberate’ exists?”
“You say incredibly sharp things sometimes, Irina.”
“Don’t worry. I’m only like this with you, Supervisor Danil.”
“Grrr.”
Danil let out a groan.
As a man with sins to his name, he could not refute a thing.
Due to road conditions, the citizens’ enthusiastic welcome parade came to a brief stop.
Irina asked in passing.
“But are you really all right with it?”
“With what?”
“With yielding the tribe chief’s head to me.”
“Ah. That.”
Danil’s gaze turned to the bloodstains on the scythe slung across Irina’s back.
“If you had personally cut off his head, your evaluation would be even…”
“Don’t worry about it. Just defeating the Snub-Nose Tribe is more than enough merit.”
Danil shrugged.
“Whether I cut off the tribe chief’s head or not doesn’t make much difference to me. Then it’s only right to yield it to the person who’ll benefit from it the most, isn’t it?”
Irina’s eyes widened as she looked at Danil.
“You said you plan to apply to the Magic Tower next year, right? The achievement of having cut down the chief of a highland tribe. Don’t you think that’ll catch the examiners’ eyes at once?”
“That’s true, but…”
Irina hesitated.
It seemed she felt guilty for taking his credit.
Danil chuckled.
“Don’t worry about it. When an adult gives you something, just accept it quietly. That’s the duty of a junior.”
“…Thank you.”
“Sure.”
Irina bowed her head.
The procession began again.
Danil once more put on his professional smile and waved to the citizens.
‘Good. Operation Take Care of Her succeeded! I’ve shared the achievement like this, so Manager Titania will scold me less later, right? …She’ll scold me less… Let’s believe she’ll scold me less.’
His insides were burning, but on the outside he had to smile, so his stomach hurt.
What drove him crazy was that this was a disaster he had brought upon himself, so he had nowhere to complain.
Danil wanted to cry.
‘Damn it. All this suffering because I said one thing wrong.’
Danil sighed.
How had he ended up going through so much hardship in a foreign land instead of Kazan?
With a bitter smile, Danil began to recall the beginning of his long expedition assignment.
*
“Pardon?”
The first thought that came to him was this.
‘Fuck. I screwed up!’
And not just a little.
‘Did I just bypass the head of the dispatch company, then accept a private job requested by that company’s subcontractor entirely on my own, without reporting to, contacting, or consulting anyone above me?’
If this was not an incident, then what was?
Danil began to miss his mother.