Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 14.2 - Chapter 2.05

5. Not Horses

I had at least heard of the Leslie Camp.

There was a merchant caravan led by the undead Ainrand Leslie that traveled around Grimgar. When did Leslie’s caravan move? No one knew that. No one had seen Leslie’s caravan on the move. However, when it wasn’t moving, that was another matter. The caravan stopped in places occasionally, and when it did, it was known as the Leslie Camp.

Leslie had treasures from across the world and the ages, and it was said that if you could steal even the tiniest fraction of them, you would become incredibly wealthy. According to some rumors, the Leslie Camp was open to all. He did not reject any guest, regardless of race, and would trade something of value for even a simple pebble. He welcomed his guests lavishly, but that was all Leslie’s trap. It was said that once they had finished feasting, the guests were put into a sleep from which they would not awaken. It was also said that the guests were all added to the caravan. That there were survivors of the Leslie Camp out there somewhere. That Garlan Vedoy, the margrave of Alterna, was one of them.

Still, the topic of hunting for the Leslie Camp came up between volunteer soldiers every once in a while. I had never heard of a successful attempt, but I often heard tales of failure in Sherry’s Tavern. It wasn’t strange that I would be invited along to fill in the party numbers.

A warrior with a chiseled face who went by the name Dune called out to me, and I ended up on a search for the Leslie Camp. There were twelve of us in total.

It was ridiculous. We’d never find the place, but that didn’t matter to me. I was only along as a sub healer, in case of emergencies, and Dune had promised me daily pay in addition to my own share. If I was guaranteed a profit, I wasn’t going to complain.

We wandered the Quickwind Plains for four days, and in that time we were attacked by a number of wild beasts. My position was always in the center of our formation. I was in the spot furthest from the enemies, and I moved away from there as little as possible. There were two mages who couldn’t get involved in the melee, either, so I stayed by their side to protect them.

Other than that, I just watched.

As I did, I made a point of not getting invested whatsoever. I’d do my job, but having emotions would only get in the way of that. They could cloud my judgment, cause me to make a mistake.

Obviously, it wasn’t easy to do. If someone got hurt, for instance, I couldn’t help but worry. It wasn’t just me; nobody wanted to see people in pain. But I had to make careful decisions. How bad was the injury? Did it need to be healed now? My supply of magical power was not infinite. It was expended with each spell, and I’d run dry eventually. I had to conserve. I had failed at that once before. It was an incredibly massive blunder. I couldn’t use magic when I needed it. I never wanted that to happen again.

People often protested. “I’m hurting here, so heal me already,” and the like. It wasn’t my problem. I ignored them, and if they got too persistent, I’d say this:

“You’re still alive, right? You didn’t die, so it’s fine, right?”

When I said that, most of them turned up their noses. Occasionally they’d snap and say, “Don’t get cocky.” I’d been asked, “Do you think you’re the arbiter of life and death?” before, too. I didn’t think that at all, but it was a pain to deal with, so I kept my mouth shut. Besides, they might not have been wrong. I might actually have been acting conceited. I didn’t trust myself. In a way, I had more trouble believing in me than anyone. That’s why what I thought didn’t matter.

I just did my job. I did it for the money. I did it to make a living.

Why did I need money? Why did I have to go on living?

I was bound to get muddled if I thought about it, so I didn’t want to push myself to come up with an answer. But it was probably because I had let my comrades die. I had killed three people. I didn’t even have the right to die on my own terms. I think that’s what it was.

I had worked with Dune once before. Not many volunteer soldiers hired me a second time. On the other hand, there were a small number who hired me repeatedly, and I secretly thought of them as my regulars. It was possible that Dune might become one of them.

After five days searching for the Leslie Camp, everyone’s morale was low, and in camp that night they started to talk about calling off the search. I was asked for an opinion, and responded that I didn’t care. In the end, we went home. It took two or three days to get back to Alterna. I was being paid a daily rate. If it took an extra day, I had that much more income, so I didn’t care.

That night, I was alone with Dune on night watch, and we were sitting around the fire.

“Sorry, Merry. For dragging you along on something so boring.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“But this kind of trip’s not so great for a woman, right?”

“I’m not the only woman here, am I?”

“Well, no... You’re as brusque as ever, huh?”

Dune awkwardly scratched his head for a bit, but then he suddenly laughed.

“Well, I like that part of you, though.”

“Stop joking.”

“It’s no joke. I’m serious.”

When I looked at him, Dune was gazing at me with a serious look on his face.

“I’ve had you on my mind all this time. Would you go out with me?”

“I would not,” I replied instantly. I wanted to look down, but I resisted the urge and continued to watch Dune. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust men. I had no idea what he’d do, so I didn’t let my guard down.

“...Is that, uh, just for now? Or do I have no chance in the future, either?”

“None. Not ever. Zero. It’s nonexistent.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dune looked sulkily to the side. It seemed he would not be becoming a regular. These things happened. There was nothing I could do about it.

On the way back to Alterna, in the night, as I was sleeping away from the rest of the group, Dune tried to get on top of me. Was it revenge for rejecting him? Had he gotten desperate? I was a light sleeper. I was able to notice and chase him off, so it didn’t turn into anything major. These things happened. I couldn’t let it get to me.

When we returned to Alterna, Dune grumbled about paying me my wages for the eight days. I, naturally, insisted I be paid in full, as per our agreement.

“Buddy, I’m amazed you can talk to me so calmly after what happened.”

“You’re the one who did it, not me. Also, I am not your buddy.”

“Maybe think a little about how other people feel.”

“Were you thinking about how I felt when you tried to do that?”

“That was... Okay, I was in the wrong there.”

“Yes. You were in the wrong. Entirely. I don’t know if my rejecting you hurt your pride, or whatever, but you’re a petty man to be acting so cheap over it.”

“Buddy—”

“Did you not hear me? I am not your buddy. You sicken me. What? Are you going to punch me? Why don’t you go ahead? I’m sure it’d hurt if you went all out on me, but I can heal the wounds with light magic. I’m sure you’d feel quite pathetic after doing something so pointless. You’d deserve it.”

“If you want your money, have it!”

Dune turned bright red, and he threw eight days’ worth of pay on the ground.

“You’re a miserable woman, selling yourself for money! That’s what you are, Merry!”

Once he had run off, I picked up the coins one by one. I was mad. I was miserable, and pathetic. But money was money.

If I went to Sherry’s Tavern, I might run into Dune. What did I care? I wasn’t the one who ought to be ashamed. That was Dune. Even though I felt that way, when I saw he wasn’t in the tavern, I was obviously relieved.

I’m not selling myself, and, I’m not failing to think about other people’s feelings, and, No, maybe I am, and, I don’t want to think about them—I was thinking about it while sipping distilled liquor when, suddenly, I found Kikkawa was sitting next to me. I ignored him, of course, but Kikkawa was not the sort to let the fact he was being ignored dissuade him.

“Hey, you know... Neighbor. Is it just my imagination, or are you looking kind of down? I hope it is. I want my neighbor to be feeling good. I want her to sparkle. I think sparkling would suit her, you know. Oh, hey, just so you know, this is just me, like, talking to myself here, okay?”

Yeah, yeah, you talk to yourself. —I was talking to myself, too. No. I wasn’t even talking.

Couldn’t I have dodged Dune a little more tactfully? It wasn’t my fault. I’d done nothing wrong. But I could have said it differently. “Merry, you’re always so extreme.” That’s what Mutsumi would say. But a half-hearted reply, one that left him with hope, wouldn’t have been good, either. Was that what I thought? Or did I deliberately try to hurt Dune? Was I the one taking things out on him?

“Neighboooor. Cheer up. Hey. Neighboooor. If you’ve got troubles, you can talk about it. I’ll listen to anything. We’ll treat it like you’re talking to yourself.”

I wouldn’t tell him. —I couldn’t. I was alone. Being alone was best.