Chapter 51:
The Letter
For the next three days, the Crimson Vow concentrated only on standard daily requests. For the sake of Mavis getting some practical battle experience with her new techniques, and for the sake of doing something that would not make them stand out quite so much as their last couple of jobs, they surmised that it might be good to stick to doing more menial jobs for a little while.
Thanks to the copper-cutting scene, among other things, Mavis, Reina, and Pauline, who generally prided themselves on having more common sense than Mile, had begun to fall somewhat—or rather, quite a bit—into a Mile-like way of thinking, a.k.a. the wrong way.
“You’ve really done good though, Mavis,” said Reina. “That ‘Wind Edge’ of yours is on par with actual wind magic! At this rate, anyone you come up against will just assume it’s normal wind magic—they’ll have no idea that it’s actually Mile’s secret ‘spirit cannon’ technique. Plus, that ‘Anti-Magic Blade’ of yours can even fend off my fireballs. You could slice through someone’s fire blasts and stab right through them! Honestly, you may as well call it the Magus Killer!”
Indeed, though Reina had been holding back her attacks as she sparred against Mavis, helping her to practice fending off magic, Mavis had still managed to rush forth, cutting through the flames and stopping just short of bringing her blade down atop Reina’s head.
While neither party ended up hurt, of course, Mavis was mildly distraught to find that her hair was a bit fried. Mile quickly repaired it with magic.
“Still, if I can only just barely keep up with a mage who’s holding back, then…”
“It’s not like anyone’s gonna be flinging around any big spells in a melee, dummy. The only time you can fire off a big spell is when it’s the very first shot or as a long-distance battering ram. In any normal battle, a mage’s focus is gonna be on elementary spells like Fireball, thinking that they can fire those off quickly and continuously. I can tell you without a doubt that the first time any new opponent sees a sword wielder suddenly deflect or cut straight through their flares and come flying toward them, that match is gonna be over in a single blow.”
“Ah—really?”
Mavis scratched her head, embarrassed.
Mile, meanwhile, pretended not to overhear the conversation. As much as Reina was impressed that the technique resembled wind magic, the fact remained that it really was honest-to-goodness wind magic. At least at this rate, there was no chance of anyone uncovering the secret of the technique, not in the slightest. However, there was the possibility that another secret—namely, that Mavis, who should not have been able to use magic, was doing so—would be uncovered.
Well, should that happen, Mavis could just say that she had a magic sword imbued with wind magic and that it could only be wielded by the one the sword recognized as its true wielder. As for where the sword came from, all she had to do was fabricate some story of a divine blessing from a “god in human form,” such as a “mysterious old man with one eye,” or a “heavenly woman who appeared from a lake.”
Naturally, no one of any stature would be willing to defy the will of the divine by trying to snatch away such an item. Believing in the existence of a divine sword meant believing in the direct interference of the gods. Moreover, anyone could find it in themselves to imagine what sort of divine punishment would be visited upon them if they tried to defy those gods and lay their hands on such a gift.
This was an undeveloped society where magic existed, after all. It was only natural that people would believe in the gods as well.
In reality, it was only because of the large-scale interference of a group of beings that might as well be gods that magic could exist at all, so a belief in the divine was probably justified.
Oh, Mile thought, but in that case, won’t people start thinking that Mavis is some legendary hero chosen by the gods?
Well, that’s fine. It’s not really that big of a deal.
It really was that big of a deal.
Such a big deal that it would cause a nationwide—nay, a continent-wide stir.
When they arrived back at the guild, Mile withdrew the day’s kills from storage and lined them up on the exchange counter.
“I’m glad we managed not to run into those hunters again today,” Mile remarked.
“Yeah, thankfully,” Mavis agreed.
The two were referring to the five-girl party, the Servants of the Goddess. The old man at the exchange counter gave a wry smile as he heard these words.
Neither of the two parties tended to linger for long in the guild hall’s dining corner, so at least the chance of them encountering one another was not very high. Both took their various breaks elsewhere and went away on overnight journeys, and such.
“Here you go ladies, yer payment. My, you really do know how to rake it in, dontcha? Sure is a blessin’ to have capable storage magic like that, eh?”
Other hunters’ ears began to prick up at the old man’s words.
In order for the girls to be earning what they should, unfortunately, it was impossible for them to conceal the fact of Mile’s storage abilities. Therefore, it had already become public knowledge at the guild. And now, the hunters who were aware of this fact were beginning to desire the Crimson Vow more and more.
However, the copper-cutting display had left a lasting impact, and when combined with the humiliation faced by the Defenders of the Covenant and the Silver Fangs, there was not a party around who would dare to suggest that the Crimson Vow join forces with them, let alone try to incorporate all of their members wholesale. At the very least, there were no other parties around with the confidence to try and show off a skill as impressive as the coin trick nor to try and keep up with them by way of speed, if not even the Silver Fangs could do it.
Of course, this did not mean that the others had given up on trying to cozy up to the Crimson Vow entirely. There was still a chance that if they came to them not as their superiors but as a congenial group of comrades, they might convince the Vow to collaborate with them on a job.
Plus, if one became friendly with one of the Vow as an individual, perhaps one might be invited to join the party and have one’s very own harem…
The Crimson Vow consisted of only four members, and the ideal party number was five or six, which meant that they really were a man or two short. It was still possible for them to add more members. In fact, they should. And really, there was no reason why those new members shouldn’t be men. It wasn’t unusual to see parties with four men and one or two women, so what was wrong with the opposite?
Their current allies? Who cared about them?! After they won one of the girls’ hearts, they could throw a big party for everyone. The other guys would be thanking them with tears in their eyes.
Now then, which to aim for?
The cool and collected Mavis, who could be approached as a fellow wielder of the sword? The meek little Mile, who had storage magic and outstanding sword skills herself? It would be three or four years until she was of marrying age, but it was probably a bit soon to be thinking of that anyway.
And of course, it was hard to neglect the buxom Pauline or the svelte Reina. With a mage for a girlfriend, one never needed to worry about injury—and magic was useful for all sorts of other things as well.
Somehow sensing all these desires, wishes, ambitions, and wild dreams swirling in the air around them, the Crimson Vow began to grow uneasy, and as soon as their business was finished, they swiftly moved to leave the hall.
However, just before they stepped outside, Mile suddenly paused as though she had just recalled something. “Ah, sorry guys, can you wait here a minute? There’s something I need to do. I’ll be right back!”
Rather than heading to their usual destination, the job acceptance window, she moved toward a counter that they had little familiarity with: the one that dealt with clients who placed requests and other members of the general public.
She had done something of the sort at least once before—when sending out that letter, or rather, package, that the elderly elf had tagged onto. So, this time, the others thought nothing of it, waiting patiently just in front of the entrance until Mile finished her business.
“Excuse me, I believe there’s a package for me? It should be addressed to ‘Miami Satodele,’ with this branch hall as the destination…” Mile said quietly so that no one else could hear. As this was not the counter where hunters accepted jobs and gave their completion reports, but the one intended for the general public, the receptionist, of course, was not No-Hope Felicia.
“Please wait a moment,” said the receptionist as she stood from her seat.
She vanished behind a door for a few moments and then returned with a small parcel. She retook her seat, and then, facing Mile, asked, “What is the nickname of the giant monster that attacks seafaring boats, whose parts are used in creating medicines for afflictions of the eyes?”
“The Ophthalmologist’s Blight!”’
“Correct. That is the password. Here you are!” she said, handing the package over.
Incidentally, there was no such creature as the one that the riddle had mentioned. It was merely a question that the sender knew that only Mile, or rather, ‘Miami Satodele,’ would know the answer to. It was a nonsense question that no one else would be able to answer.
Mile returned to her party. “Sorry to keep you!”
“Let’s get back to the inn,” Reina replied. “We’re taking tomorrow and the day after off for some personal time, remember?”
Overhearing this, the ears of the surrounding male hunters began to prick up. They were likely thinking that if the Vow were going to be going around town separately, then they might just get the chance to encounter one of them. Unwittingly letting such information slip in a place like this would turn out to be a big misstep on Reina’s part…
After they had returned to the inn, Mile opened her parcel, examining the two letters that were inside. One of them she put into storage, but the other she opened up in front of the others.
“It’s a letter from Lenny!”
“Hang on! When exactly did you tell her we were going to…? Oh right, that parcel you sent from the other town, right? I guess we’d already decided that we would be staying in this city for a little while by then. Well then, let’s all see what it says.”
And so, they passed the letter around.
***
Early one morning, when Lenny was tidying up outside of the inn’s front door, a man had called out to her.
“Pardon me, is there someone by the name of Lenny here?”
“Ah, well, that would be me…”
For a stranger to have some business with the inn made sense, but there was no reason for any strange adults to have business with Lenny, who was still a child. Though she had tentatively replied, her body tensed with wariness, gripping the broom as she instinctively shifted into a battle stance.
“Whoa now, I’m no one suspicious! I’m just a messenger; I came to deliver an item to you!” the man hurriedly said, digging into the bag on his shoulder and pulling out something that appeared to be a letter, which he presented to Lenny.
“What’s this?”
“I’m only the messenger here! I wouldn’t possibly know… The postage has already been paid by the sender, so there’s no charge to you.”
Surely enough, Lenny’s name and that of the inn were inscribed on the back of the envelope as the letter’s destination. However, the name of the sender was not written, so even if she wished to return it, she couldn’t. The sender must not have wanted others to be able to tell who had sent it just by looking.
“Who is this from? And who is it that you work for?” Lenny asked, but the man simply shook his head.
“I cannot answer that, and I do not know the sender’s name. Well, I mean, of course I know the name of the person who forwarded this on to me, but they might not have known the name of the person who addressed this to you, or they simply may not have wished to tell me. So please don’t ask me what their name is. I cannot tell you my name or my affiliation, either. Doing so would interrupt the flow of information and jeopardize certain secrets.”
Lenny was quite bright, so the moment she heard this, a light bulb came on in her head. She broke the seal on the spot, read the first few lines of the letter, and then shoved it straight back into the envelope.
“U-um, can I get you to send a reply to the letter you received? And can you include a letter from me as well?!”
After a brief think, the man smiled kindly.
“If you can write your reply straight away, I would be happy to take it.”
“Please come with me!”
Lenny grabbed the man by the hand and dragged him into the still empty dining room. Ignoring her speechless father, she urged the man into a chair and placed three mugs of ale and some snacks on the table before him, and set to work desperately writing her letter.
“It’s going to take me a little while to drink all these…”
Drinking three mugs of ale first thing in the morning was rather against the man’s general policy.
Well, that’s fine, I suppose, he thought. I’m not gonna get drunk off of this much, and no one’s going to complain about me heading straight back after drinking these. Though I mean, I’d rather not set a bad precedent, but if I avoid the store and workshop and slip into the office from the back door, I should be fine… This little girl seems like she’s very important to them, after all. It’d be cruel to rush her.
And so, leisurely, he put the first mug to his lips.
The man received the letter to the sound of Lenny’s endless thanks. He gave the girl his regards and then left the inn behind.
He set out through the capital streets, which had now begun to fill with people, sometimes slipping through the crowds, sometimes darting down narrow back alleys, taking an absurd and circuitous route so that he could not possibly be tailed, before disappearing through the back door of a certain shop.
“Honestly though, what’s with all the secrecy? Well, that’s what they wanted, so I’ll follow instructions for now. I wonder what they could be up against these days… I guess this just comes with the territory when you’re dealing with eccentrics like these…”
As so the man sat down at his desk, absorbing himself in office work so that none of the workers would have to see him until the smell of all three mugs of ale had worn off.
***
“Say Mile, you like to read books, right? You wanna read these?” Reina asked as she handed Mile two recreational tomes.
“Huh? Why do you have these, Reina?! These are really expensive!”
Indeed, books in this world were ridiculously expensive. Even Mile would prefer borrowing them from the library to purchasing them herself.
Furthermore, there were few books meant for recreation.
Scholarly anthologies and the autobiographies of nobles and such were put out with the aim of spreading knowledge and attaining renown, so a fair number of books were produced with little concern paid to profit. Whether or not the information they contained was the truth was another matter. Even certain types of history books, depending on the country, were produced with a higher emphasis on popularity than moneymaking.
However, this did not work for recreational books. Given that every single copy had to be reproduced by hand at scribing shops, the price per unit could not easily be lowered, and so the works had to be ones that would be guaranteed to sell at a price high enough to turn a sufficient profit. It was a budding industry, and as a result, literary culture at large was still a fledgling concept in this world.
Plus, books were delicate, and any belonging to someone constantly on the road would soon fall to tatters—assuming that one did not have access to a realm of temporal stasis like Mile’s inventory space. Therefore, it was hard to imagine that Reina herself would buy such a book.
“I borrowed them. If you pay one gold as a deposit, you can borrow a book for three days at the library here in exchange for three silver. Sticking around inside of libraries where everyone’s just reading silently with serious looks on their faces gives me the creeps, so I took the books out. I feel like it’s just as good as paying an admission fee. Anyway, since I already paid the money to borrow the books, I figured it’d be more cost-effective if we all got a chance to read them. This author is really funny—I’ve read tons of their books before, but it looks like there are two new ones out, so I ended up borrowing them both.”
Mile then took the books that she was offered and read the titles.
King Lear. The tale of an old king beloved by his three daughters.
The Sorrows of Young Hamtel. The tale of a troubled young man who is unable to defeat the ferocious cockatrice that comes to live in the yard of his home.
Author: Miami Satodele.
Mile stared at the two books, trembling.
“I-I don’t m-mind going last, so, um… P-Pauline and M-Mavis can go ahead and r-read them first…”
“You sure? Well, you do read pretty fast, so I’m sure it’ll be fine if you get the last crack at them. Mavis, Pauline, you wanna read these?” Reina asked, moving away from Mile.
Enough sweat ran down Mile’s face to fill a bucket.
Later that night, once the others were sound asleep, Mile, who was a night owl and always the last to go to bed, sat awake writing, her page illuminated by a light spell behind a darkening barrier.
Once she came to a stopping point, she reached into her inventory and withdrew a letter, looking it over again. It was the other letter that was enclosed in the parcel along with Lenny’s.
Dear Ms. Satodele,
We have safely received your latest manuscript. We will begin manufacturing and reproduction at once.
Proceeds for the previous volumes have been favorable, and there have been talks of a dramatization. Payment for your manuscript has been forwarded to your account at the Merchants’ Guild.
Additionally, the secondary letter you included has been delivered as requested. I believe it should go without saying that the enclosed is the reply that we were entrusted with.
We shall be passionately awaiting your next work.
Sincerely,
Melsacus, Orpheus Publishing
Mile wanted to spread interesting tales throughout the world, a joy which to her, was more valuable than even the pocket change this secret venture earned her. She wanted to bring forth epics and make the people around her smile.
And, most importantly, she wanted to lay the groundwork for a global enlightenment, one that would make everyone finally be able to understand the punchlines of her jokes.
The fact that there was not a person in this world who would understand the genius inherent in “Please Kenji, an Animage,” was hopelessly, desperately tragic.
Miami Satodele. This was made of a jumble of three names: Mi-sato, A-dele, and Mi-le. An anthology of Mile’s three lives. That was who Miami Satodele was.
“I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna spread my Japanese folktales—nay, my stories of the world—all across this land if it’s the last thing I do!”
However, there was one thing Mile did not know.
Both Mavis and Pauline had noticed that the contents of the books that they had borrowed from Reina very closely resembled things that they had previously heard only in Mile’s Japanese folktales, and thanks to this, it was only a matter of time now before one of them uncovered the truth…
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