Episode 481

“Move up ahead!”

“We’re moving! Stop pushing!”

“Hey, you’re lagging behind.”

Langdroi’s men, axes in hand, led the way up the mountain. Each step was slow and hesitant, making their progress painfully sluggish.

Langdroi kept kicking their backsides, urging them to hurry. At this rate, they’d come back empty-handed.

“Master, how much farther do we have to go?”

“Just as far as we’ve come. You’ll see the dryad soon—keep your eyes peeled. And don’t ask me again! I’m exhausted.”

Sweat dripped down Langdroi’s thick jaw. He was at his limit. Just walking this far with his bulky frame was a feat in itself.

One of the men whispered to his companion, watching their master struggle.

“But what’s so special about this dryad tree that he’s this worked up?”

From the way he was chasing after it, it must be valuable. But when they saw it tied up in the warehouse, it looked no different from ordinary firewood.

“Didn’t you know? If you burn that, it lasts for months.”

“Months? So they don’t burn it often?”

“They do, but very slowly. In winter, just three bundles of it are enough. That’s why merchants beg for even a single branch, and passing caravans pay handsomely. I don’t know the details, but apothecaries seem interested too, so it’s probably used medicinally.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

So that’s why. Otherwise, the master wouldn’t be risking all this trouble climbing the mountain. He’s probably here to keep an eye on it, making sure no one steals even a single branch.

“Is it easy to cut? I heard every chop sounds like your eardrums are being torn.”

“Yeah. Some people have even gone deaf.”

One of the men glanced back at Langdroi. Sure enough, a white cloth was stuffed into his ear canal.

“But it’s okay right after the mole tribe comes out of their tunnels.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because every few months, they come to pick dryad fruit. The dryad only screams when the fruit is being taken. If there’s nothing to protect, it stays quiet, like it’s asleep. That’s why the master tries to cut it right then.”

“Ah, I see.”

If not, he’d be climbing the mountain every day trying to chop down the dryad. And a man obsessed with money like him wouldn’t let such a goldmine go unguarded.

Suddenly, someone ahead waved their hand.

“Master! There are tracks!”

“Tracks? What kind?”

“Footprints! Some bushes are trampled too. Looks like they moved this way. Two people.”

“Not the mole tribe?”

“No, human. The footprints are the right size.”

Langdroi wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes flashing with greed. Could it be Hot and the outsider who went missing this morning? Or two outsiders? He quickly motioned for his men to follow.

Rustle.

Crunch.

Not far from there, they found a deep pit trap and two men lying sprawled nearby—Hot and a red-haired stranger.

“Hot! Are you okay?”

“Oh my, what on earth happened?”

“Who’s this? Hot, snap out of it.”

While the men shook Hot awake, Langdroi opened a thick backpack.

Packed tightly inside was dried meat. He casually grabbed a piece and munched on it while rifling through the contents. The stranger looked like an outsider, with no proper clothes to speak of.

“Hmm?”

A thick pouch caught Langdroi’s attention. He instinctively felt its weight, and when he saw the glint of gold coins inside, his breath caught.

Good heavens. What is this? Overwhelmed with joy, he almost fainted—until he spotted an ID card at the bottom of the bag.

—Imperial Palace Guard, Magic Swordsman Beric.

“…!”

“Master, what should we do with him?”

“Shh! Quiet!”

One of the men grabbed Beric’s hair and shook him lightly, but Langdroi flinched and waved his hand to stop him. That madman!

“Let go of his hair.”

“Eh? Y-yes.”

The Imperial Palace Guard was the emperor’s elite unit, wasn’t it? And a magic swordsman? The kind who could split the earth with one swing and tear the sky with two?

Langdroi’s trembling hands scanned the scene carefully. Now, it wasn’t the gold that made his hands shake—it was the uncertainty of this man’s fate.

‘Hot must have run into the magic swordsman by chance and tried to take him down without knowing who he was, but got beaten instead. But why is the magic swordsman lying here? And why is someone from the palace guard out here? This doesn’t make sense.’

“Master?”

“…Kill him.”

“Y-yes, understood.”

At Langdroi’s muttered command, a man gripped his axe tighter.

“No, not him! Hot.”

“Huh? Hot?”

“What are you waiting for? Kill him. If not, we’re dead. This guy’s a palace magic swordsman.”

It was a classic scapegoat move. Killing Hot would prove they had nothing to do with the man who tried to take down the magic swordsman.

The magic swordsman was just an unfortunate victim, and Langdroi and his men happened to find and help him by chance. That was the most plausible story.

“And this one gets moved to the mansion.”

“We’re leaving? What about the dryad?”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how much this guy’s worth? Retreat!”

What about the backpack? Should they lie and say it wasn’t there? No, the magic swordsman might have some ability. A careless lie could make things worse. Langdroi reluctantly put the pouch of gold back into the bag, tied it tight, and handed it to a subordinate.

“Down the mountain!”

“D-down the mountain…”

“Make sure you clean up Hot’s mess before you come down.”

“Yes, master.”

Tch. Just yesterday, they were eating and sleeping together like family, and now he had to kill them with his own hands. But what could he do? That’s the life of a slave—living without choice, dying without choice.

One of the men spat on his palm and firmly pinned Hot’s head with his foot.

---

“I’m hungry.”

Beric muttered unconsciously as he opened his eyes. Rubbing his stomach, he realized how thin he’d become—it had been a while since he last ate. He stared blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling, wondering where he was and why.

…Ah! The mole tribe hit me with a hammer, didn’t they? The memory he’d completely forgotten came rushing back, and Beric shouted as he threw off the blanket.

“You bastards! You’re dead!”

At least when someone hits you, it’s only right to pay them back. Just as Beric reached for the black sword neatly placed in the corner—

Bang!

The door swung open, and servants rushed in, carrying fresh clothes and trays piled with food.

“Huh?”

“Are you feeling better?”

“W-what’s going on?”

“The master found you unconscious and brought you here. Did something happen in the forest? We opened your backpack to verify your identity, but please don’t be upset. No, first, please eat. It’s been two full days since we brought you in.”

“Two days? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Beric frowned, pressing his throbbing temples. That hammer blow came back to mind. It looked like an ordinary hammer, but he was sure it was some kind of weapon. What was it?

Ah, whatever. Beric took the tray and grabbed the bowl of rice without a second thought, completely absorbed by the steaming meat soup before him.

“Please eat. We’ll bring the master to you.”

“Hey, wait.”

“Yes?”

“More rice, please.”

“…?”

He emptied the bowl in just a few spoonfuls. The servant rubbed his eyes, wondering if he’d seen correctly. When the servant didn’t move, Beric nodded slightly, as if realizing something.

“I get it, I get it. You need to pay for your meal. Here.”

Ting!

Three gold coins clinked lightly. That was more than enough for a meal by his standards.

The servant hurriedly accepted the coins and backed out of the room, practically running away.

Thump, thump!

“What’s that noise? A wild boar running?”

“Oh my, magic swordsman, you’re awake?”

“Whoa, it’s true.”

Hearing that Beric had woken, Langdroi burst into the room, hands clasped tightly and bowing politely.

Beric held up his empty bowl and greeted him.

“Are you the owner of this place?”

“Yes, yes. Are you feeling better? What happened? If we hadn’t found you in the forest, it would have been terrible—”

“Thanks for the help, but the food’s not nearly enough. I paid, so don’t skimp on the meat. Beef would be great, if you have any.”

Beric waved his hand dismissively, too tired to explain everything that happened in the mountains. He just wanted to fill his stomach and get back to hunting moles.

Langdroi hesitated for a moment at the unexpected request, then gave a wry smile.

“Complaining about money, huh? I’ve seen that plenty.”

“I hate to say this right off the bat, but we’re not exactly swimming in spare time or resources. We’ve had to hire doctors and apothecaries to treat the Blade Mage, and my family’s been taking turns watching over the sickroom—we haven’t been able to work at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough with the long-winded speech. So, how much?”

“Ten gold coins should be fair.”

“Damn, that’s highway robbery…”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Berrick flicked the gold coins toward Landreau. He’d already received help, so it was up to the other party to set the price.

In truth, no doctors or apothecaries had ever come by, but Landreau inwardly cheered as he scooped up the coins.

‘See? No need to risk bringing anything dangerous! Being affiliated with the palace sure means they’re generous with their spending!’

Berrick drained the last drop of the meat broth, eyes narrowing as he studied the homeowner carefully.

“Hmm?”

There was something oddly captivating about Landreau’s jacket. It was so tight it looked like he’d stolen it from a child—completely torn along the back. But then…

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“That—Is that your coat?”

“Oh, yes, yes. It’s mine. We didn’t touch the Blade Mage’s belongings at all.”

It felt strangely familiar. Though worn and stained, the original color and shape were barely recognizable, yet the garment was oddly well-known to Berrick. It wasn’t decorated with any unique patterns—just a plain jacket.

“Huh. Why is that?”

“Why? Why do you ask?”

“Come closer.”

Landreau hesitated for a moment, then cautiously stepped toward Berrick. With each step, Berrick’s brow furrowed deeper. Wait a minute, what’s this?

Clang!

Berrick suddenly flung the tray aside and buried his nose into Landreau’s jacket. Sniff sniff. Landreau recoiled in shock, covering himself with both hands.

“Ah! What are you doing?!”

“Don’t make such a fuss. Hold still. I’m disgusted too, but this smell… I’ve smelled it somewhere before…”

“You can’t do that!”

“Seriously? Then take the damn jacket off.”

“My clothes? Me? Why?”

Berrick grabbed Landreau’s struggling shoulders firmly and focused on the stained area. Looking closer, it was blood. And a very familiar kind of blood at that.

“…Ian’s.”

A tight grip.

It was Ian’s blood. So much time had passed, but the scent was unforgettable.

Berrick clutched Landreau by the collar and muttered under his breath.

“Ugh! Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing—”

“Where did you get this?”

“…Huh? What do you mean?”

“This coat! Damn it. It’s ripped open at the side because of your damn kid!”