Chapter 109

Eighty percent of the sand composing the desert was made of placer gold; a vast desert. This place, commonly called the ‘Golden Sea’, was one of the continent’s most alien landscapes.

Walk a short distance west from this region, and ‘The Queen’s Forest’, the homeland of all elves, would reveal itself; move a bit east, and a boundless field of wheat would appear alongside the lands of humans.

Up until thirty years prior, the Golden Sea was a critical point on the continent, serving as a border region between the elves and humans.

The humans who lived here imposed tariffs on exports and imports, and apprehended smugglers carelessly crossing the region.

On days when diplomatic relations with the elves grew strained, they would stand, sword and shield in hand, and watch the border beyond with sharp eyes.

But the days when this land functioned as a border region ended thirty years ago. The continent was reborn as one empire.

The soldiers who had been dispatched to defend the border now turned their blades toward the demon race, and the merchants who crossed the border could pass between the lands of the elves and the lands of humans without paying any tariffs.

Interest and supplies aimed at the Golden Sea evaporated in an instant, and even the margrave who managed the territory sold all his lands and buildings to the bank, then relocated to the capital.

A natural consequence.

This land was, after all, a desert, unable to yield crops like wheat or beans, and barely capable of providing even potable water.

Without proper commerce, coveting this place was a futile greed.

And so, the land was abandoned.

Merchants selling goods departed, and nobles left. Soldiers maintaining order trickled away from the Golden Sea, now a mere wasteland, until finally only those without power or coin remained.

Into that pitifully forsaken domain, those who committed crimes and sought a place to flee began to gather, one by one.

There were buildings, however dilapidated, that offered shelter from the rain, and humans, however meager their worth, who could still be exploited.

The criminals who gathered thus formed their own groups, divided into factions, and sparked conflict amongst themselves.

Eventually, the abandoned margraviate was reborn as a sanctuary for criminals.

The Golden Sea is never a place of beauty.

It is a place where those who have sinned and fled gather, seeking a paradise that does not exist.

“See the news?”

“…The Allied Forces won, they say.”

In the tavern located deepest within the Golden Sea, ruffians always filled the tables.

Perhaps the only individuals in this region earning money through legitimate business were those running the tavern.

For this land teemed with individuals—powerful criminals or street urchins alike—who could not bear to part with any coin they obtained without immediately exchanging it for drink.

…Of course, whether the alcohol they sold was born from a lawful brewing process was another matter entirely.

“The Allied Forces won? How big of a win?”

A woman among the ruffians, her hair cascading down to her waist, craned her neck towards the man holding the newspaper. Her rotten, chipped front teeth and the foul breath escaping them were quite potent.

“All four Archdukes dead, you say? Mad, a victory like this is just…insane.”

“We’re screwed.”

The woman with the gapped front teeth twisted her face and spat out the curse.

It was odd. Shouldn’t they, as people of the same continent, be breathing a sigh of relief at the Allied forces’ victory?

If the Allied forces had been defeated, surely all life on the surface would have been massacred by the hands of the demonic hordes.

“The army will have some leeway now. Maybe they’ll start patrolling this region of ours.”

“Does Rodi know about this? Tell him to put those ventures of his on hold and lay low. I’ve invested over 50 pennies in his operations. Getting caught by soldiers would be bad.”

“Lock the little ones underground for a while. Releasing them in the desert, where soldiers could spot them, will only complicate things. Let’s keep our heads down for a bit.”

Well, maybe they weren’t even human anymore.

“…The Valarrand War… they won?”

Hearing the story, someone walked heavily towards their table.

A long, unkempt beard, a shirt stained with grime, a scarred cheek, and eyes like rotting, dead fish.

Apart from the sturdy build and the scars etched here and there, he was a man with an appearance not so different from the many derelicts haunting the place.

“Uh, uh… yeah, well… they say they won.”

Those gathered at the table swallowed nervously at the man’s appearance, their faces turning cold. The man holding the newspaper immediately stood up and offered it to him.

“…”

Taking the newspaper, the man listlessly began to read it slowly.

Taking the opportunity, those sitting at the table slowly left their seats.

“Who is that b*stard, anyway, sprawled out here for weeks, just swilling liquor all day long?”

“I don’t know who he belongs to, but leave that son-of-a-b*tch alone. You saw him fighting those Kedi boys yesterday at dawn, right? People were flying around like glass bottles.”

“Just a crazy b*stard, probably. Like there aren’t a dozen of those in this city.”

“Nothing’s scarier than a strong crazy b*stard.”

“Tell the owner to throw him out… just talk to him…”

They exchanged whispers as they left the tavern, glancing back. They seemed to pity the newspaper man as much as they feared him.

“…Huh.”

The man reading the newspaper stopped, his eyes fixed on a single point.

His expression was bewildered, and he ran a hand over his hair, cropped so short it was almost shaved.

Then, he flung the newspaper in his hand to the floor.

*Thwack!*

Such was the force, the newspaper – just paper – exploded into dozens of pieces as it hit, sounding almost like a firecracker detonating.

The other patrons in the tavern, startled by the man’s sudden outburst, began to slip away, one by one. The owner, drying glasses behind the bar, cautiously retreated into the kitchen.

“…Hero.”

Soon, the shattered fragments of the newspaper fluttered down to the floor.

[A New Hero is Born! Rex, Son of Belzarc, Slew Grand Duke Maltiel with the Aid of General Vin!]

For a long moment, the man stood there, dazed, replaying the newspaper lines in his mind.

Then he smacked his forehead with his fist, slammed his bare hand against the floor, and abruptly, his eyes began to well with tears.

“Damn it, you pathetic piece of shit… you damn shit!”

He began to mutter, pounding his head with his open palm like a madman.

“Die, die! Filthy and cowardly… you son of a biiitch!”

And so, he remained for a long time, squatting on the tavern floor like a madman, vomiting forth the unfiltered turmoil of his emotions.

“…”

Only after several hours did the man compose himself and rise from his seat.

He then emptied all the money from his pockets, scattering it on the bar, and walked out of the tavern.

The sunlight, seen for the first time in nearly two weeks, made him squint.

“…Hah.”

As the man caught his breath, a sudden stench assaulted his nose. It emanated from his shirt, soaked with a mix of food sauces and beer froth.

Without hesitation, he stripped off the garment and tossed it onto the ground.

Almost instantly, one of the beggars who had been watching from the periphery snatched it up and fled into the depths of the alley.

“Let’s go.”

A faint light glimmered in the man’s eyes, still wet with a trace of tears.

The man’s name was Edward.

Those who knew him often shortened it to the affectionate nickname, Ed.

* * *

First day of the Archipelago Mist Expedition.

Lir and I rose early, and began our preparations for the expedition.

The black robe I donned smelled faintly of soap, as if it had just been washed yesterday, and my white shirt retained the silky feel of the fabric.

I had also neatly trimmed the hair that had grown unkempt during my time on the battlefield, and last night I even managed to read ‘Understanding Intermediate Magic’ to the very last page.

Beyond the window, the sky was cloudless, and the breeze that flowed through the frame carried a freshness that could not be adequately described with the word ‘pleasant.’

I had the distinct feeling that things would go well today.

Basking in the cool breeze, I fastened the multi-purpose belt for carrying my pouch of gold coins around my waist.

Securing the belt with only one hand proved far more arduous than I’d anticipated.

And this was a custom-made article, at that, crafted especially for me, the one entrusted to carry a rather substantial sum of 100 gold by our aged servant.

A sturdy belt designed to hold a full ten pouches of gold coins, he had explicitly advised me to distribute the gold at ten coins per pouch.

To this, I’d remarked, “You want me to spread it out in case I lose it, right? ‘Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,’ I know, I know.” Utter nonsense.

The old servant, with a face of unflinching gravity, had responded, “…No? It’ll be easier to maintain your balance that way.”

He must have thought me some kind of wooden puppet. I, too, had bones and muscles, being a human being…

“Uh, uh?”

While filling the belt with gold, my body tilted precariously to one side. I hastily stepped forward, managing to grasp the bed frame and avert a complete toppling.

“…”

Ignoring the words of the Empire’s servants, especially one deemed ‘capable’ by that fastidious Elven Queen, was proving to be a poor choice.

Experience was not to be dismissed. It wasn’t for naught that the adage “When an old man dies, a library burns to the ground” existed.

Best not to act so cocky. Heed the advice of your elders!

“Not ready yet? Need a hand?”

Lir’s voice drifted through the door. I carefully divided the precise amount of 100 gold into ten coin purses, then clapped the wide-brimmed hat, which I had carelessly tossed onto the bed, onto my head.

“I’m ready, I’m coming out now.”

I cut the figure of a textbook mage, and Lir, waiting for me outside the door, was similarly attired.

“Let us depart.”

The aged servant offered me a silent greeting before leading the way. On our walk to the castle’s main gate, imperial servants cleaning the halls bowed their heads in greeting.

After a long stretch, the colossal main gate—large enough for a dragon to pass through without hindrance—revealed itself before us.

Perhaps my stamina had improved somewhat? The distance from my room to the main gate seemed longer, yet I’d only needed to rest a mere five times.

It was a growth rate that left even the expression “remarkable progress” feeling inadequate.

“Haa… Damn it…”

Catching his breath, heavy and ragged, was unavoidable.

…The silk shirt clung, heavy and sodden with sweat.

He hadn’t even set foot outside the city walls, and already, he longed to return to his room and rest.

“Hey there–! The carriage is about to leave! When are you coming ooout!”

Zion’s cheerful voice, bright and ringing, reached his ears as he sat catching his breath on a chair placed right in front of the door.

…Who would ever believe that such a bright and innocent voice belonged to an assassin?

More likely to be mistaken for some kid calling out to his friend down the street.

“When did that man start sitting there like that?”

“He showed up with the carriage as soon as morning broke and has been like that ever since.”

“As soon as morning broke, you say…”

“The sun rose around seven this morning.”

“Ah.”

“…”

“…”

“So, you mean he’s been like that for, perhaps, four hours…?”

“He must drink a lot of honeyed water. What a set of lungs…”

Ah.

Right.

……Best not to bother trying to understand that girl.

Just…just let her carry on with her foolishness like that.