The One-Eyed Artisan (1)
The city of Revivach was bustling, even though it was just a small city at the southern edge of the city alliance. The streets were as crowded as the labyrinthine city of Falcion.
The last time I visited, it was similar, but there was a reason for it then. Rumors of a massive mandrake habitat discovery had drawn merchants from across the continent.
“Quite a crowd, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. In my younger days, it was just a small town where herbalists gathered.”
“Has it been a while since you were last in this area?”
As Felber and I exchanged small talk at the inn’s counter, the innkeeper handed over a key and joined the conversation.
“It’s been some time, but not too long.”
“Then you might not have heard the latest rumors. Have you heard about the divine rain of flames bestowed upon Revivach by the Herb God?”
Dalen shook his head. Divine rain of flames? And what on earth is a Herb God?
“I don’t recall any such deity in the Empire’s pantheon.”
“Oh, it’s not about those religious folks. This is real. A genuine god. For hundreds of years, the herbalists of Revivach have prayed, and their prayers were finally answered.”
“Enough with the vague stories. Tell it straight.”
The innkeeper glanced around cautiously and cleared his throat.
Dalen casually flicked a coin from his pocket, which the innkeeper caught with a satisfying slap. Clearing his throat again, he continued.
“It was about three months ago, in the Revivach forest. The sky turned ashen, and thunder roared like a dragon’s cry.”
”······.”
“The herbalists say a pillar of light descended, and the Herb God appeared in the deepest, most inaccessible part of the forest.”
A nudge in my side made me glance over. Felber was looking at me with a knowing expression, as if to say, “Isn’t this your doing?”
“That night, as the god descended, a rain of fire began to fall over the entire forest. It was visible even from the city walls of Revivach. For a while, wild rumors spread—about demons, witches, and wizards performing horrific rituals.”
The innkeeper shook his head, looking like a devout priest repenting for past sins.
“But after about two weeks, it became clear that those were just rumors. The forest, supposedly overrun by demons, was more vibrant than ever, with herbs sprouting and growing at an unprecedented rate. The only truth was that the Herb God had indeed descended upon Revivach.”
“···I see. Thank you for the story.”
“You don’t seem convinced. Be careful not to doubt the Herb God openly. While merchants like me might not care, the herbalists who’ve lived here for ages will be quick to anger.”
Dalen waved dismissively and left the counter. As he climbed the stairs, he rubbed his temples. His head throbbed with the absurdity of it all.
Damn, a Herb God? He regretted ever thinking the locals’ theories were accurate a few months back.
“Ha, now they’re calling you a god? The War God who gave you the holy sword must be furious.”
“···Damn it.”
“With the mandrakes that were draining the earth’s nutrients wiped out, a mountain of nutrients must have accumulated near the surface. Assuming a thousand mandrakes died, there’ll be ten times the usual herbs for the next two or three years.”
“And after that?”
“During those years, herbalists will be scraping by on roots. The city might even lose its title as the city of herbs.”
But by then, monsters would be rampant, and herbs would be the least of their worries. Felber stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Dalen rubbed his temples again. Ever since learning of the impending doom, his thoughts had taken a strange turn.
The room we stayed in was the largest and finest in the inn. Felber, being a senior wizard of the magic tower, was wealthy, and Dalen had amassed quite a fortune himself.
Dalen’s wealth was now far beyond what one would expect from a mere mercenary. A few months ago, he had chests overflowing with gold coins, and now he had added a small box of precious gems.
With such riches, he could easily buy a mansion on Silver Street. But with all the chaos they faced, the money just kept piling up without a chance to spend it.
“Are you heading to that clinic?”
“Yes.”
Dalen set down his backpack. As he opened it, a baby dragon scurried out and began exploring the room.
Squeak. Squeak!
The little dragon bounced around the bed and armchair, its eyes sparkling with joy at being out in the open air again.
Dalen cautioned the dragon, just in case.
“Don’t make too much noise. I don’t know if you can use it yet, but no breath or spells. If someone comes in, hide or escape.”
[Got it!]
The baby dragon nodded confidently. Being a true dragon, it seemed to understand human language without being taught.
“Ha ha ha, growing so fast, aren’t you?”
“Children grow quickly too, you know.”
“True, but this seems even faster than the dragons I know.”
Is that so? Dalen thought little of it as he laid out their spoils on the table.
Clatter.
The large table for eight was quickly filled.
Seven rifles, two pistols, two grenades. Cartridges wrapped in oiled paper, spare bullet pouches, and powder flasks.
To Dalen, with his memories of modern times, these were outdated by over a century, but on the continent, they were cutting-edge weapons.
Personal firearms were officially used by only two nations, the Empire and the Tsarist country. Most countries were just starting to secretly adopt cannons, so the technology of these two powers was truly ahead of its time.
Dalen took one pistol and a grenade, stuffing the rest into his subspace.
The demon Arvor, of course, screamed about his space getting cramped.
[Ugh, I’m dying here. Everyone, there’s a poor demon here, buried under a pile of stuff in his own subspace…]
‘Quit whining. I know it’s bigger than before.’
Dalen poked the demon in the subspace with the last rifle.
After absorbing the curse of the Blue Scale, the demon’s subspace had more than doubled.
This proved that the immortal demon not only absorbed curses but also digested them to enhance his power.
Thinking he should visit that deadly maze where just walking could curse you to death, Dalen tossed the rifle into the subspace.
The demon carefully caught it and organized it neatly.
[But master, you should consider that my body has grown too.]
‘Just cram it in and live with it.’
[···Sniff.]
Packing was quickly done. The group set out to find the clinic.
After slipping a few more coins to the innkeeper downstairs, he eagerly pointed out the clinic’s location.
‘Not that you would, but don’t cause trouble there. The mercenaries of Revivach will swarm and stab you if you do.’
Ignoring the innkeeper’s warning, the group headed to the mercenary guild branch.
The clinic was in an alley behind the guild branch.
Setting up a clinic in such an alley wasn’t a great idea. In a small city, opening a shop in a narrow alley instead of the main street was like giving up prime real estate.
Yet, the clinic, nestled between a small herb shop, a vegetable store, and a one-room junk shop, was bustling with people.
The line stretched from the clinic’s alley all the way to the main street.
Most of those in line were rough-looking mercenaries, each sporting various wounds, hastily bandaged or splinted.
“Please line up, everyone! Let’s wait in an orderly fashion!”
“Show us your minor injuries! We’ll prioritize the urgent cases!”
Young men, seemingly from the clinic, managed the long line, moving those with urgent needs forward and treating minor injuries on the spot with herbs.
“···There’s a reason business is booming.”
Felber observed quietly.
“But isn’t it strange? I don’t know much about herbs, but even in Revivach, they shouldn’t be charging so little.”
“Well done. You deserve at least a silver coin for that.”
Dalen nodded in agreement.
Even in a world with miraculous items like healing potions, professional medical care here was exorbitantly expensive compared to modern Earth. It was no wonder mercenaries carried their own bandages and herbs.
Yet, the young men before him were providing top-notch treatment for just a few copper coins. That explained why, despite having opened their clinic only a month ago, they already had a line of customers waiting.
“Heh, they must have thought they had a perfect plan. If you’d stumbled into the city injured and unaware, you wouldn’t have turned down such a kind clinic, would you?”
“Probably not.”
They were more cunning than he had anticipated. Realizing a straightforward assassination wouldn’t work, they set a long-term trap that would eventually catch him off guard. And if their plan failed, the mercenaries who had benefited from their kindness would likely protect them.
“Tsk.”
Dalen clicked his tongue in frustration. It was an irritating situation. Normally, he would have stormed into the clinic, dealt with everyone involved, and left. But with so many mercenaries lined up, doing so would make him a public enemy.
No matter how prestigious a gold-ranked mercenary he was, in the world of mercenaries, protecting one’s own interests came before any rank or title.
“This is troublesome…”
Felber also clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath. Dalen’s gaze shifted instinctively, drawn to a familiar presence. His eyes landed on two figures emerging from the clinic.
One was a short dwarf, the other a merchant with an impressive beard.
“The guild master?”
Caught off guard by the familiar face, Dalen hesitated for a moment. The merchant, who had been casually surveying the street, spotted him too.
“What?”
The merchant’s voice was filled with surprise, his expression one of disbelief. But the shock quickly turned to delight, and he raised his arms, shouting.
“By the gods, Sicella! How long has it been, Dal—”
“Quiet.”
Startled by the outburst, Dalen swiftly clamped a hand over the merchant’s mouth and pulled him into a nearby alley.
“Mmph, mmph!”
“If you don’t want to see me take on all of Revivach’s mercenaries, just follow me quietly.”
Hearing Dalen’s whispered warning, the merchant, Volkmar Gallios, wisely kept his mouth shut.