For a moment, I wondered why they were behaving like this—and then I suddenly realized something about the villagers. They had all different skin tones, each one of them had a different accent, and in their agitation, some of them were angrily shouting out coarse vocabulary I hadn’t heard from any of the others.
As I took notice of this with surprise, a middle-aged man approached me.
“My ’umble apologies, sir, for the disgraceful display. Thankee kindly for the ’elp, I’m much obliged.” He bowed his head to me. I realized that this was the same man I had met earlier, one of the two who had come under Menel’s first attack. “Name’s John, sir.”
“Ah, you’re welcome. Umm... My name is William. Uhh... So...” Ignoring the people yelling at each other for the time being, I tried to get a better picture of things through John.
Just as I’d heard from Menel yesterday, I was currently in Beast Woods, Southmark. The woods were deep and expansive, with ferocious creatures and even more dangerous “beasts” running rampant. As a result, John explained, the influence of the Fertile Kingdom that ruled this area did not extend here.
“I will say that we ’ave a lot of characters of, shall we say, int’restin’ ’ist’ries...”
Criminals, runaway serfs, those who had fled here from fallen nations, would-be adventurers still trying to make their way by ruin-hunting—all kinds of people who, for one reason or another, couldn’t live in the city had naturally gathered together and formed this village. Apparently, there were a number of such settlements dotted about these woods.
Naturally, the settlers’ places of origin, their norms, and their perceptions of law all varied wildly. No wonder they were like this when they tried to hold a meeting. I sympathized with their difficult situation, but at the same time—
“I wonder what will happen to them.” I glanced at Menel. He had been bound by the Words of Web-making and Paralysis and left to lie on the ground; I couldn’t see his expression from where I was standing.
If you formed a group and raided a village in an area beyond the reach of the law, then failed and got captured... I had to admit what would happen to you was kind of predictable.
Menel would be killed at the hands of the mob and left to hang... or something along those lines, I guessed.
That left a bad taste in my mouth. I could sense that I was acting soft, a carry-over from my past life, but there was still something making this a little difficult for me to accept.
As selfish a reason as it was, the idea that people I’d captured were going to die—that I would, in essence, cause the deaths of others—wasn’t something I wanted to be confronted with, nor did I want brutal mob justice to be one of the first things I got to see upon entering civilization. Furthermore, even if he was a bandit, I didn’t feel good about the prospect of watching someone I knew, someone I’d had a conversation with, die in front of me in a state of paralyzed confusion.
I mean, after leaving the city, I figured the first place I’d come across would be an outskirt area with poor law and order, so I’d been prepared for things to get a little rough, but I never expected it to go this bad this fast.
Fighting off bandits is a classic adventure-story trope, but now that I’d run into them in real life, I realized how hard they were to deal with. You couldn’t just send them on their way and expect no trouble later. As I was wondering whether there was anything I could do—
“’Fraid I don’t know what’s gonna ’appen to them, either.”
“You don’t know?” I tilted my head. In a situation like this, I’d been expecting that whatever solution they settled on would probably involve killing the raiders.
“They’re familiar faces, see. Our neighbors, if you will, from th’ nex’ village over. Ah, I say neighbors, but they ain’t immediately adjacen’ to us. There’s a day’s walk between us through the woods and ’cross a brook.”
“Huh?”
The neighboring village raided them? In the middle of winter? Without any warning?
“They weren’ well off, none of us are, but they ’ad enough provisions, ’s far’s I know... I’d’ve said they were right nice people for residents o’ these woods, and I though’ we’d been getting along quite well ’til now.”
Hmm. That did sound mysterious.
“Wha’s more, tha’ silver-’aired elf, ’e ’as a good reputation ’round this neighborhood as a renowned wand’ring ’unter. ’E’s ’elped us many times in eliminating dangerous beasts. Sev’ral of us here owe our lives to ’im. I don’ understand it.”
I was starting to see where John’s doubts were coming from and had just nodded in agreement when I noticed a shift in all the shouting at the meeting.
“Very good, very good,” an old man said, clapping his hands loudly. “I’m sure you’re all getting tired of talking. Why don’t we all have a drink of water?”
It did look like everyone had yelled themselves hoarse at this point. The old man must have been waiting for that perfect moment to join the meeting.
He was short, with hair that had turned almost completely white, and he used a cane. He seemed friendly, but he had a look in his eyes that told me he was a man to keep a close watch on. The small scar near his left eyebrow was very distinctive. It looked like an old blade wound.
“Tha’ old gentleman is Tom,” John told me helpfully. “’E’s the village elder.”
While the water jug was being passed around, Tom began to speak. “All right. You don’t have to stop drinking, but I’d like it if you would listen to what I have to say for a moment. First of all, just to check: The ones laid out here are mostly from the next village, yes? And then there’s the silver-haired hunter.”
The elder’s speech had a smooth flow to it that seemed to draw me in. Because he’d timed this just when the villagers were tired of talking and were now drinking and taking a breather, all those men who had shouted so much were making no attempts to interrupt the elder’s words. He’s clever, I thought.
“John, I believe you saw these people rush into our village last night, armed with weapons. Is that correct?”
Everyone’s eyes turned to John, who was sitting some distance away from the rest of the others at the meeting.
“I did indeed, Elder,” he replied calmly, nodding. “And I was saved by this ’oly warrior.”
“Mm. Please, allow me to also express my thanks.”
“There’s no need,” I said. “It’s, uh... It was all thanks to the guidance of the god of the flame.”
“Then I must express my gratitude to that god as well,” Tom replied. Turning to the shrine, he gave an informal bow of worship and smiled. His expression reminded me just a little of Gus.
He briefly shot me a meaningful glance, and while I was still trying to figure out what exactly it meant, he continued. “Well, let’s see. For the time being, can we assume that while we’re here discussing this, you will protect us in the event that something happens?”
“Hmmm...”
It sounded as though Tom wanted this conversation to head towards getting an explanation from the bandits. He wanted to get to the point where he could say that it’d be safe to release their paralysis because I’d be around for protection if they started getting violent again. I thought for a moment and replied, “On the flame of Gracefeel, I will protect everyone here.”
The reason I kept the object of that sentence vague was just in case I found out this village had a good reason to come under attack. Depending on the circumstances, I might also have to protect the assailants.
“Then we’ll be safe even if they turn on us again,” Tom said, smiling lightly. He seemed to have picked up on my intentions. “Everyone, I am thinking we should start by getting them up and asking them some questions. What do you all say?”