Chapter 20
Black Druid (1)
“Lord Kaspar!”
Again?
“I committed a grave offense against you earlier, Lord Kaspar!”
Kaspar had not misheard him. Rude repeatedly called him “Lord Kaspar” before prostrating himself once more. The sight was rather pitiful.
“An offense?”
“What? Well... I mean...”
Rude cautiously poked the top of his foot and then his shoulder with one finger.
“What I did in the wagon.”
“Ah...”
Only then did Kaspar remember.
As though he had been waiting for Kaspar to understand, Rude immediately slammed his forehead against the ground again.
“I! Am! Truly! Truly sorry about what I did, Lord Kaspar!”
At this rate, he would genuinely make his forehead bleed.
“Hmm... I’m fine. It really is all right, so please don’t worry about it too much, Rude. You can stop now.”
Kaspar had never taken the incident particularly seriously.
Besides, his mind was currently filled with the desire to experiment with magic. He had no interest in receiving one dramatic apology after another.
Rude, however, refused to back down. He stammered, desperately clinging to the conversation.
“But if the Metal Magic Tower files a complaint because of me... I’m merely a Second-Circle mage of the Flame Magic Tower. I could never deal with the consequences.”
Kaspar asked in bewilderment,
“...Why would the Metal Magic Tower do that?”
This time, it was Rude who looked at Kaspar as though he could not understand him.
“What do you mean, why...? I have eyes, you know. I could tell that the magic you used to wipe out those spiders was metal magic.”
Rude sat neatly on his knees and continued while cautiously watching Kaspar’s reaction.
“It goes without saying that the Metal and Flame Magic Towers have a poor relationship. You called yourself book-taught because you were thoughtfully trying to avoid unnecessary conflict, weren’t you? Even though you knew that meant allowing me to look down on you... You’re vastly more powerful than I am, yet you showed such generosity. And without realizing any of that, I...!”
The more Rude spoke, the more confused Kaspar became.
This was the first time he had even heard that relations between certain Magic Towers could be good or bad.
Worse still, he had no idea where to begin correcting this tremendous misunderstanding that he was a considerate mage from the Metal Magic Tower.
Rude was probably calling him “Lord” partly out of remorse, but also because he believed Kaspar was a mage of considerably higher standing.
Would that alone settle everything? Would the entire misunderstanding disappear?
[Of course not.]
“...”
Kaspar truly had no idea what to do.
After using that much metal magic, denying that I belong to the Metal Magic Tower wouldn’t be very convincing.
Kaspar sighed deeply.
“Please read my mind.”
“What? What do you mean by—”
“I... wasn’t talking to you, Rude.”
The Fallen Throne, who had been grinning beside them as though enjoying a marvelous spectacle, nodded.
[You want a solution, don’t you? Hmm. Give him a meaningful look and tell him that the two of you should erase yesterday’s events from your memories.]
[Do you honestly think denying it now will resolve anything? It will only reinforce his conviction. You might as well redirect the misunderstanding instead.]
Redirect it?
[Rude is currently afraid that the Metal Magic Tower will lodge a formal complaint because of him. Even Magic Towers with hostile relations have fundamental boundaries they must observe, and his rudeness toward you from the moment you met crossed those boundaries by a considerable margin.]
The Fallen Throne lightly tapped the tip of her foot and then her shoulder.
[So simply tell him to forget the entire matter. That Rude fellow will let his imagination handle the rest.]
[“Ah, this esteemed mage is being considerate of me until the very end.” That is what he will think. As a bonus, you will leave him feeling indebted to you. Even if he later discovers that you do not belong to the Metal Magic Tower, it will not matter. You never claimed that you did.]
Ah...
[Kaspar, misunderstandings are unavoidable as one makes one’s way through the world. Everyone carries misunderstandings, great and small. If they cannot be avoided, then we should alter their course so that they benefit us.]
Reading the thoughts behind Kaspar’s blank expression, the Fallen Throne snorted.
[Calling me the Constellation of Interpersonal Relationships and Social Life is rather disrespectful. This is merely the manner of speaking any reasonably experienced adult could devise.]
Understood.
Watching Kaspar remain silent only made Rude more anxious.
What should I do? Should I have bowed even lower?
Fortunately, neither man had to wrestle with his concerns for long.
[Kaspar.]
The Fallen Throne, who had fallen silent, addressed him again.
Having finished speaking with her, Kaspar now encountered another problem.
How was he supposed to give someone a meaningful look?
[Kaspar.]
“...Just a moment.”
“Yes... Yes! I will wait as long as necessary, Lord Kaspar!”
“...”
Kaspar resumed his serious contemplation.
A meaningful look. A meaningful look. A meaningful look...
[Kaspar.]
“Just a moment.”
Someone was approaching the village entrance from the forest.
The figure wore a robe as black as night.
[An enemy.]
Kaspar’s head snapped up in surprise.
The Fallen Throne was staring toward something.
Following her gaze, Kaspar slowly turned toward Huntingville’s entrance.
Rude appeared to sense something as well and looked in the same direction.
“Halt!”
“Who goes there?”
The sentries at the village entrance shouted while aiming their weapons.
“Where did you come from?”
The black-robed figure tilted their head in a gesture of incomprehension.
“I’m a little late. Looks like those beast-men have already had themselves quite a party here.”
The voice was younger than expected.
The mercenaries frowned.
“I asked where you came—”
“Ah, you’re so noisy.”
A finger twitched beneath the hood.
Crunch!
There were no screams.
Tree roots erupted from the ground and pierced the mercenaries through their throats. They convulsed and foamed at the mouth before their heads went limp.
They died on the spot.
“If someone doesn’t answer the first time, take it to mean there is no answer. Why keep pestering them as though you asked something important?”
Realizing what had happened, the mercenaries in the square rose while grinding their teeth.
“That son of a bitch!”
“Tell the captains! We’re under attack!”
Some assumed defensive positions, while others drew their swords and immediately charged.
“Stop.”
Kaspar’s voice rang out.
The mercenaries charging toward the black-robed figure halted and turned toward him, veins bulging on their foreheads.
“Why are you stopping us, mage of Aezk?”
They were barely maintaining their reason, and their agitated voices made it clear they were ready to resume their attack at any moment.
“Because charging now would play directly into that person’s plan.”
“...What are you talking about?”
Beyond the puzzled mercenaries, the black-robed figure slightly raised the hood covering their eyes.
“I thought this place was filled with nothing but piglike adults, but it seems there’s a clever boy my age among them. What’s your name?”
“Kaspar. Kaspar Hauser.”
“I see, Kaspar Hauser. You have sharp eyes. How did you notice? I thought I’d hidden them rather well.”
Kaspar could see the numerous patterns covering the area around the black robe.
Every pattern radiated a sinister energy.
Had the mercenaries advanced even a little farther, they would undoubtedly have met a horrific end.
“...It was merely intuition. I didn’t think a black druid would reveal themselves here without any plan or preparation.”
“Oh? How did you know I was a black druid?”
The black-robed figure sounded intrigued.
“You looked powerful at a glance, and you seem skilled at using nature-based magic.”
The black-robed figure repeatedly nodded, evidently pleased by Kaspar’s answer.
Kaspar could almost hear Rude muttering under his breath beside him.
“You’re dressed from head to toe in your signature color, yet you’re asking how he knew?”
“Ahahaha! You seem to be a mage. I like you. I also like that you’re worth having a conversation with.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Most humans don’t even bother talking. They just launch a preemptive attack, like that fellow behind you.”
A preemptive attack?
Kaspar looked behind him.
Rude was awkwardly dispersing a fireball he had prepared.
“It was a precaution against a possible ambush.”
The black-robed figure suddenly began trembling.
“An ambush?”
“That’s right. There’s no telling when underhanded people like you might try some dirty trick.”
Kaspar finally understood.
This was simply the kind of person Rude was.
He was constitutionally incapable of resisting the urge to provoke others.
Sure enough, the black-robed figure’s body trembled with rage.
“A dirty trick? You bastard...”
“Do you think I would prepare some underhanded scheme against worthless rabble like you? Me? Sael?”
[Kaspar, be careful. Their mind is overflowing with murderous intent!]
Kaspar could see it too.
The patterns surrounding the black druid who had introduced herself as Sael began turning crimson.
“All the hunters I originally came for are already dead, so I considered simply leaving. But the stench of blood on your bodies, combined with the obnoxious way that bastard speaks, has helped me decide.”
The corners of Sael’s mouth rose.
“I’ll use you as replacement sacrifices for the Lord of the Forest.”
Sael invoked the legendary spirit as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her clear voice rang out.
Extending a slender finger toward Kaspar and the mercenaries, she chanted,
“Thirsting roots, multiply! Sacrifices that shall sate your thirst for blood stand before you. Bloodvine Feast!”
Kaspar deployed a barrier, but Sael was one step faster.
Roots burst through the soil and drove their tips into the mercenaries’ ankles.
“Aaaaaagh!”
The roots squirmed as they sucked up blood, turning bright crimson like enormous veins.
“What’s happening, Kaspar?”
“What is going on? Did someone attack us?”
Allen and Robens rushed out of the village hall.
After quickly assessing the situation, they rallied the surrounding mercenaries and ordered an offensive.
The mercenaries’ demeanor changed the moment their leaders appeared.
Their confusion vanished, and they formed an offensive formation according to their captains’ commands. The formation itself radiated a singular, razor-sharp pressure.
Despite the speed of their reorganization, Sael merely snorted.
“Specters wandering the void, grudges buried beneath the earth—rise according to my will. Obey the command of your summoner. Animate Dead!”
Kaspar had never seen a necromancer before, yet he felt as though he now understood what one was.
That was how profoundly sinister Sael’s magic felt.
“Yes, that’s right. Keep running your mouth.”
Sael swept her hand through the air.
Crack!
An ominous energy crept from inside her robe and engulfed Huntingville.
A fog of mana shrouded the entire area.
Through the obscured surroundings, the soil began shifting in numerous places.
The half-rotted head of a wolf suddenly emerged.
That was only the beginning.
Animal heads sprouted like mushrooms from the ground throughout the village. As their twisted bodies pulled themselves upright, maggots and clumps of soil rained from them.
“You call yourself a black druid? Bloodsucking roots, summoning corpses... You act more like a necromancer.”
Rude muttered in disbelief.
Within the fog, a dead wolf bit into the throat of an unfortunate mercenary standing at the formation’s outer edge.
Apparently amused by the sight of his blood spilling across the ground, Sael giggled and shouted,
“Come, my children! This village is filled with a magnificent feast! Eat and drink to your hearts’ content, and fill your starving bellies! Kyahahaha!”
“Awooooooo!”
Howls crawling with maggots echoed through the fog toward the moonlit sky.
A horde of beasts granted a semblance of life began flooding into Huntingville.