Chapter 101

A weathered cabin, warm milk, and a diminutive espresso cup.

That evening was a complex and serene entanglement. Starlight blanketed the sky as we drank.

I placed a gold coin on the table and Lyrre and I slipped out of the establishment. The night was deep, yet the square felt even more boisterous.

Lyrre and I walked toward our prearranged meeting place, soon discovering an unadorned carriage waiting for us around the corner. A young servant, as if expecting us, dismounted to greet us.

Before climbing into the carriage, I glanced once more at the heart of the bustling square.

…Seeing those still sporting whitened hair brought a pitiful smile to my lips, but at least I no longer felt disgust towards them.

“Rex will wake soon.”

I spoke as I settled into my seat, gazing out the window at the clamorous streets.

“Of course.”

Lierre still held my hand.

“Alter too, before long, will be walking on two legs.”

Over the square, nobles were still delivering their speeches with booming voices.

“Naturally, Master is mostly alright, you see.”

In the corner of the alley, a young boy sat, plucking at guitar strings.

“…And my hand will heal as well.”

Thus, those shimmering lights recede further and further.

“I will believe.”

Thus, a day passes.

A clumsy, yet splendid evening.

* * *

The next morning, even the faint signs of a cold that had troubled me until the night before had completely vanished.

It’s not for me to say myself, but my voice, now free of the cold, was clear and pure, and my body as light as a feather.

…Strictly speaking, my body had always been as light as a feather, really. I had always been so terribly thin.

“Ah. Ah.”

Isn’t a beautiful voice commonly compared to the ‘voice of a nightingale’?

But, in truth, the voice of a nightingale isn’t as clear as one might think. It’s more like the sound made by a slightly inept flute player.

The peculiar and clumsy sound when a player who is just learning to make sounds grabs a flute and plays a musical score for the first time… that’s the closest thing to the nightingale’s song, one could say.

“Ah—”

Yet, the voice that emanated from me now resonated on a plane beyond such simple sounds. It might be likened to the notes produced by a skilled flautist, one who majors in the instrument at university.

*Clunk!*

Lost in admiration of my own vocal cords for several minutes, an abrupt sound of furniture shifting echoed from just outside my door.

“…?”

Wondering if someone was moving in, I opened the door and peered out into the hallway. But in that instant, a massive shadow descended upon me.

“Oh, oh! Please step aside! You’ll get hurt!”

The young servant’s voice, laced with urgency, reached my ears.

I brushed the disheveled strands of hair from my forehead and moved out of the doorway, and soon the wooden leg of a piece of furniture was being maneuvered into the room.

…What are these people putting in my room right now?

“What’s going on?”

“It’s a piano! Lord Bean ordered it.”

“Ah.”

Wow, that’s the thing I ordered before leaving for Vallerand, and it’s just arriving now. Hasn’t it been over a month since I placed the order?

It wasn’t even a custom piece, just a standard item. What on earth is the logistical infrastructure like in this world…?

Did my piano somehow cross dimensions, stopping by some backwater hub before arriving?

*Thrum—*

As the piano’s legs met the floor, the strings vibrated, releasing a scattering of delicate notes. And, as an added bonus, the faint groans of the older and younger servants mingled with the sound.

“…Uh, would you like a cup of tea?”

I cautiously offered the servants cups of steaming black tea.

As expected, they waved their hands and declined.

They’d endured the backbreaking labor of hauling a piano from the main gate to my room; it seemed they wished to avoid the added torment of serving hot drinks.

“Ah, right… General.”

“Yes?”

While the servants, who’d delivered the piano, caught their breath, smoothing their wrinkled uniforms, the younger one addressed me.

“General Rex has awakened.”

“…”

I immediately set down the cup I held and draped my cardigan over my shoulders.

“Show me the way.”

* * *

Rex’s sickroom was one of the many empty chambers in the castle, converted into a private ward.

Ordinarily, Rex should have been lying in a church or hospital’s intensive care unit, far from the castle walls. But I exerted ‘a touch of influence’ to create a personal ICU within the castle, placing Rex there and tasking the court physicians and clergymen to care for him.

Rex deserved no less.

No matter what anyone said, he was the continent’s hero, the one who ended Maltiel.

When one performs great deeds, suitable rewards must follow.

I eagerly threw open the sickroom door.

Ah, forgot to knock.

The thought occurred to me belatedly, as a towering orc, swathed head to toe in bandages, stood before my eyes. Rex had evidently just finished washing his face; his features were slick with water, droplets scattered across the floor.

“…Why are you standing?”

I asked, my tone laced with disbelief, as if witnessing Rex go about his daily routine was the most normal thing in the world.

From what I understood, less than thirty minutes had passed since he regained consciousness. So why was this orc standing on two legs as if it were the most natural thing?

Shouldn’t a person, freshly roused from a common coma, be lying in bed, greeting the person who enters with half-asleep eyes?

“…Is there some kind of problem, General?”

“Uh…”

Hmm.

“No, it’s just… good to have you back.”

Not quite the picture I had in my head, though.

“Would you care for, perhaps… tea?”

“Ah, yes. Tea. Tea sounds lovely.”

“…….”

“…….”

Shouldn’t this be a reunion soaked in emotion? And yet, it’s this awkward.

“I’ll, uh, close the door and come back in. So that…”

“Ah, yes, I’ll try to look like a proper patient lying down.”

Thankfully, Rex understood my truncated words perfectly.

Clunk.

Hearing his response, I exited the room and closed the door.

Then, I took a small, deep breath.

For about three seconds I stared at the door, collecting my composure. Then, having steeled myself, I pulled the handle.

Unlike before, Rex was lying in bed with eyes like a rotten, half-thawed fish. He was drooling down his chin like someone who’d just taken three uppercuts to the jaw and lost consciousness…

“Pff…!”

Ah, shattering the immersion, isn’t it.

“You went too far with the slobber, seriously. You don’t know what ‘enough’ means.”

“Oh, is that so? I thought it was exactly the kind of scene the General wanted to see.”

Whoa? Look at this. He took a trip to the afterlife and came back with the slipperiness of a water snake.

“Don’t be absurd… Eh, never mind. I was trying to squeeze out a somewhat touching scene here. Tsk.”

He grumbled the words, but I could see a smile spreading across his face.

“Why are you wrapped in so many bandages? You look like a mummy.”

“Would you like to take a peek inside the bandages? It’s something else. It looks like I was hit by a meteorite, the flesh just… caved in….”

“Ugh, no thanks.”

“Haha! Come on, just give it a touch. I’ve never seen a body contorted like this in my life.”

Rex and I, we spent quite a while like that, wasting time with meaningless chatter.

Once, Rex filled the hospital room with his characteristic orcish roar of laughter, and since there was nothing but a bed and a small table in the room, the laughter echoed so loudly it made my ears ache.

“Good to have you back.”

I said, carefully tapping Rex’s shoulder. He’d only just regained consciousness, but his skin was already tougher and harder than mine by a wide margin.

“…Strictly speaking, I’m not completely back.”

Rex said this and paused for a moment. It couldn’t just mean he wasn’t fully healed.

“General. There’s something I need to tell you.”

He began like that and then hesitated, watching my face carefully. I swallowed, a bit dryly, and waited for him to speak.

“…I probably won’t be able to wield an axe again.”

Rex looked as if he couldn’t believe he was the one saying these words. I could only watch him with a pained expression as he continued to speak, clearly in agony.

“Though I haven’t sought the counsel of a physician or priest… I know my own body. A gaping hole was torn in my abdomen, and a significant portion of muscle is gone. Losing an arm might be remedied with a prosthetic, but damage to the trunk – no effort can restore that…”

The trunk, what they often call the core muscles, now housed a massive void.

If the trunk that supported the human form was broken, even ordinary acts like rising from a seat, let alone running or a simple push-up, would become impossible. The pressure that the core muscles should absorb would transfer directly to the spine, and the overburdened spine would suffer a herniated disc, or even worse, a fracture.

The core muscles were like the rebar used to construct the building of the body. No matter how well developed the other muscles might be, if this was ruined, freely moving the body would be a struggle.

“Thanks to the Saintess, the hole in my abdomen has closed and the torn viscera have been somewhat repaired… but that’s it. The trunk is completely destroyed, and even a little strenuous exercise will cause my organs to slip from their place.”

Considering the amount of blood loss and the size of the wound… it would be stranger if there weren’t any aftereffects.

The fact that Rex can open his eyes and walk at all is, in itself, practically a miracle.

“I can no longer hold a shield and deflect the enemy’s attacks, nor swing an axe and reach their necks. The foundation of every movement is gone, so it cannot be helped.”

Rex bit down on his back teeth, his expression one of utter despair.

Having to say such things himself seemed unbearably shameful for a warrior.

“To wield an axe any longer would be an insult to myself. I’ve experienced a great honor I never dreamed of, so now I must yield the general’s side to others with greater talent. I am grateful, and also apologetic, to the general who trusted me and entrusted me with a position beyond my worth.”

To me, Rex seemed far too hard on himself.

I already owed Rex my life three times over. He was an irreplaceable vanguard and a dependable shield.

He could declare, with pride, ‘I am done here,’ and no one would say a word against it.

“Then… when do you intend to hold your retirement ceremony?”

“It’s not as though I’m saying I will retire.”

“…Then?”

“My role as a warrior is finished, so now it is time to fulfill my duties as a strategist.”

“You don’t know how to rest, do you?”

“The war is not yet fully concluded. Even before, there were several commanders who recommended me. I’ll start by leading a small company under them, I suppose.”

“To be a Captain… With Rex’s accomplishments, an express promotion straight to Battalion Commander wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but the path of a warrior and that of a tactician are quite different. If I don’t learn step by step from the bottom, a major problem could erupt anytime, anywhere.”

“…Well, it’s possible, I suppose.”

Rex cautiously patted my back, like I was a child sulking.

I never quite got used to that massive hand. The thought that it could crush a person’s head like tofu, if it so desired, just kept surfacing.

“Whenever you need help, send just one letter. Me and my men will rush there.”

Rex seemed to have found his purpose the moment he opened his eyes.