Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 13 - Chapter 8

8. The Mystery of Leslie

Naturally, Haruhiro headed back, shook everyone awake, and informed them of what he’d seen.

Kejiman seemed to ooze cheer from his entire body, and was ridiculously excited. “Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-You! Do you know what that is?! You don’t, do you?! You can only act so calm because you don’t! Unbelievable! Do you lack basic, common sense?! Or are you an idiot?! I’ll bet you’re an idiot, a big damn idiot!”

“...I’m pretty sure I haven’t done anything to merit that response.”

“The massive tent that appears by night! Mysterious music! This is a famous story, you know! Everyone know it, unless they’re an idiot or live under a rock! Which are you?!”

“I don’t know...”

“You can’t even answer that! That means you’re an idiot! Well, not that it matters! Whether you’re an idiot or live under a rock, it doesn’t make a difference! That’s a minor detail, so let’s get going!”

As Kejiman tried to take off running, Setora grabbed him by the collar.

“Hold up.”

“L-Let go!” Kejiman squealed. “You’re choking me! It hurts! I’ll suffocate! I’ll suffocate to death!”

“If you’d like, why don’t you go ahead and suffocate?”

“Noooooooooo, thank you! I still have things I need to do! No, I can’t die until I see the Leslie Camp for myself! I could never rest in peace otherwise!”

“Leslie Camp?” Kuzaku cocked his head to the side. “What’s that?”

“U-U-U-U-Unbelievable! You really don’t know?! You’re pulling my leg! I can’t believe this! You can’t not know about the Leslie Camp! You must literally live under a rock!”

He was saying that, but this was the first Shihoru or Setora had ever heard of it, and it was the same for Haruhiro.

What about Merry? He couldn’t ask. While it hadn’t been outright suspicious, the way Merry reacted had been a little odd.

“Have you... heard of it...?” Shihoru asked her in Haruhiro’s place.

Merry hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Just the name,” she answered briefly.

“Ohh,” Kuzaku said with a relaxed nod. “Merry-san, you might disagree with us sometimes, because you’ve had a longer career than the rest of us.”

Oh, yeah.

That was right.

Merry was kind of their superior—no, not just kind of; she had definitely been a volunteer soldier longer than the rest of them.

The Leslie Camp. From what Kejiman said, it was a fairly major thing. It wasn’t weird that Merry would know. Haruhiro and the rest were just ignorant.

That had to be it. No doubt about it.

“I don’t mind going to see, but it’s not dangerous, right?” Haruhiro asked carefully.

“Is it dangerous?!” Kejiman exclaimed. “Does worrying about that let you live a more fulfilling life?! Can you sing out loud about how wonderful this life is like that?! Don’t you think there are more important things out there?!”

Kejiman babbled on, explaining the Leslie Camp had been sighted in places all over Grimgar, usually by night. It was apparently a regular feature of accounts that claimed that it suddenly appeared where there had been nothing during the day.

As one might infer from the name, a person called Leslie was involved with it.

Ainrand Leslie. He was the master of the Leslie Camp.

Some said he was human; others said he was undead. He was a merchant who had been famous in certain quarters for over fifty years.

That said, he was more than some mere merchant. Ainrand Leslie acquired objects the likes of which no one had ever seen, and would sometimes hand them over in exchange for a great price. Sometimes in gold, sometimes in other forms.

One rich man in Vele turned his beautiful wife and daughter over to Ainrand Leslie without regret, and received a ring unlike any other in this world with the power to call storms.

However, then the rich man had no idea how to call storms. So when he asked Ainrand Leslie for help, this was the response:

“Let me teach you. However, the price will be your new wife.”

The rich man had a young mistress. He had resented his wife who was past her prime, and his daughter, who was cheeky with him. For the rich man, his original wife and daughter had been no great price to pay. In fact, he’d been able to rid himself of them, gain the ring, and marry his new wife. Three birds with one stone.

But his new wife...

“As if I would give you my wife!” the rich man snapped and threw the ring down on the ground.

When he did, a storm arose, dark clouds forming as people watched, and Vele was hit by a great storm heretofore unseen proportions.

Houses collapsed, and many ships sank. Ainrand Leslie vanished, and the rich man perished inside his ruined mansion.

There were countless such tales of Ainrand Leslie. That said, he wasn’t a person from hundreds of years ago, so it was much too soon for there to be legends of him.

According to Kejiman, there was no shortage of people who claimed to have met Ainrand Leslie. There were quite a few people in Vele who would show off some oddity, treasure, tale, or piece of junk, or try to sell it, claiming they had received it from Ainrand Leslie.

However, there was not actually any solid proof, nor any unshakable evidence that Ainrand Leslie had definitely visited Vele. The story of the rich man was seen as a delusion, a fabrication, something idiots would talk about over drinks.

Even so, no one questioned that Ainrand Leslie existed.

Here was another story, for example.

A young girl ran away from home, wandering into a forest not ten kilometers from Vele. The girl was eventually drawn to a mysterious sound, and came across a large, round tent, with horse-like creatures gathered around it. She turned back in fear, wandering the forest until morning, and somehow made it home.

The girl told everyone around her about the things she had seen. Someone suggested it could be the Leslie Camp, and with rumors giving birth to more rumors, there was soon an uproar throughout Vele.

For a period of over ten days, hundreds of people—no, thousands, or perhaps tens of thousands—headed out into the forest, seeking the Leslie Camp.

In the end, the camp was not discovered, but this had happened just five years ago, so most people in Vele remembered it.

Travelers who wandered Grimgar, curious adventurers, ex-volunteer soldiers, merchants burning with ambition who would go anywhere for profit, none of them encountered the Leslie Camp. If it could be found by searching, someone would have by now. There were those called Lesliemaniacs who obsessively traded information on it among themselves, but it was said that the more you looked, the further away the Leslie Camp got.

Regardless, the Leslie Camp was obviously the place to find Ainrand Leslie. He was one of Grimgar’s few collectors.

He might not have had a ring that called storms, but he might have one or two famous treasures like a red diamond, said to be worth enough to buy an entire country, or a solid gold bust of Enad George, the founding king of Arabakia, or the lost crown of the royal house of Nananka, or the Necklace of Nigelink, which Princess Titiha of lost Ishmar had worn until the moment of her death, or the Dawn Scepter, or the treasured sword Ulgis.

If anyone were to attempt to buy any of those famous treasures, Ainrand Leslie would no doubt demand an extortionate sum. However, even if they could not have those things, even a glimpse of them would be a story they could tell until the day they died.

Also, hardly anyone took this seriously, but there were childish stories that Ainrand Leslie could grant a wish for anyone who met him.

Furthermore, according to one theory, Ainrand Leslie was neither human nor undead, but something akin to a fairy or spirit, and could bring great wealth to people with his mysterious powers.

In truth, the reason no one who claimed to know his face came forward was connected to that. Those who had become rich with the help of Ainrand Leslie would carry that secret to their graves. Just like money, if everyone had good fortune, it would decrease in value. That was why, until they died, they were better off hiding what they knew about Ainrand Leslie. That was the secret to ending a privileged life still at the top.

Did the Leslie Camp ultimately exist? If they were to judge purely based off what Kejiman said, it was a little dubious.

No, really dubious.

However, Haruhiro had seen it with his own eyes.

That being the case...

Honestly, though he wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea, he guided his comrades and Kejiman there.

They soon arrived.

Haruhiro had hoped that, after following the route he remembered, they’d be disappointed to find it was no longer there. It wasn’t that he wanted to be disappointed, but if the Leslie Camp existed, he didn’t see it being anything but trouble. He wanted to avoid that... but it didn’t work out.

This might be a major find, but he wasn’t happy about it in the least.

“Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-This is...!” Kejiman stood at the edge of the depression, pulling on his own hair. He was pulling so hard that his glasses fell off. “Ohhh! M-My glasses! Where, where, where are my glasses?! My glasses...!”

“...Here.” Shihoru picked them up and returned them.

Kejiman put them on and rushed towards the bottom of the depression. “Ohhhhhhhhhh! I! Am! Leslie! Camp!”

“You’re the Leslie Camp now?” Kuzaku asked. “Wait—”

He glanced over at Haruhiro as if to say, Don’t we need to go after him?

It was questionable. Maybe they didn’t? Haruhiro was apparently not the only one thinking that, because Shihoru, Merry, Setora, and Kiichi the gray nyaa didn’t move from the edge of the depression, either.

Haruhiro and the party were only hired as guards. They weren’t Kejiman’s mommy or daddy. They didn’t have to go along with this.

“If that man were of no further use, now would be the time to cut him loose,” Setora said quietly.

She could say that again. She had a point. Setting aside the bit about him being their employer, they needed him to lead them back to Alterna.

“Heyyyy...” Hesitant to yell too loudly, Haruhiro called after him with a half-hearted shout.

Either Kejiman didn’t hear, or he wasn’t listening to begin with, because he didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn back. Seriously, what was with that guy?

He was already reaching the bottom of the depression.

Guess there’s no other choice, huh? Even if I ran my fastest, I couldn’t catch him in time.

Haruhiro steeled himself. They would stand by, and wait to see what happened. If it got ugly, they’d have to leave Kejiman and run.

Farewell, Kejiman. Until we meet again.

“Ahh...” Kuzaku groaned, then covered his mouth. He must have been worried about Kejiman who was at least making an attempt to creep as he approached one of the doors to the tent.

You’re such a damn softie, thought Haruhiro. But I do think that is one of your strong points. It makes you a likable guy. Still, it’s that part of you that worries me the most. I know that may be none of my concern, though.

Kejiman was already at a point around ten meters from the entrance to the tent.

“This sound,” Shihoru whispered. “Is it an accordion?”

“That’s it!” Haruhiro realized.

The image of a musical instrument composed of a snake-like bellows and a keyboard that could be pressed came to mind. Then he lost track of what he was thinking, and just the word a-kor-dee-on was left behind like an empty box.

This, again? He was getting mad now.

Now isn’t the time to get mad, though, I guess... 

Kejiman finally reached the door to the tent. He was sure Kejiman would be cautious from that point, but Kejiman suddenly flung the curtain open.

Should we run for real? For several seconds, Haruhiro seriously considered it.

“Ainrand...” someone said in a small voice.

No, not just someone.

Haruhiro reflexively looked to Merry, who was next to him. Merry’s eyes were open wide, like something had surprised her.

Haruhiro didn’t hesitate, and in the most subtle way he could manage, he averted his eyes. He didn’t know if he could pull off acting like he hadn’t seen anything, but he was going to try.

Kejiman poked his head into the tent. Was nothing going to happen?

Eventually, he started waving his hand. Come on! was what he apparently was trying to say.

Kuzaku looked around to the rest of them. “...Do we go?”