We managed to arrive at our destination just after dusk. This wasn’t a grand, towering metropolis like the Imperial Capital, encircled by majestic city walls; rather, a modest town surrounded only by a low wall, standing barely three meters high. The urban planning seemed to align with the Empire’s standards, but even so, it was clear this place wouldn’t last more than half a month if besieged.
That said, a location just two days’ travel by fast horse from the capital probably didn’t need such a rigorous defense. To be honest, if a place as remote as this little country town fell, the Threefold Empire would likely either relocate its capital or prepare for a do-or-die battle.
We went through the cursory identity checks appropriate for such an unassuming town and paid the entry tax—initially, it did catch me off guard, but thinking of it as a toll for using the highway made it easier to accept. Fifty assa coins later, we entered the town. Our goal was to complete the quest.
“Alright, let’s find an inn.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Actually, no—not just any inn. It would be poor timing to visit during the evening meal hours. Especially with Lady Agrippina, someone Lady Agrippina herself described as “obstinate,” it seemed wise not to push it. One should be mentally prepared for the possibility of an attack spell flying as soon as the door opens. Such readiness would be healthier for both one’s spirit and safety.
Thus, I prepared a little souvenir—a few famed sweets from the Imperial Capital I picked out with care. This extravagance was my way of signaling how much we valued even this peripheral area.
“Excuse me, may we disturb you for a moment?”
“Hm? What is it?”
In any case, since tomorrow was the main event, we looked for an inn tonight. Catching a free moment with a seemingly idle guard, we asked if there were any cheap wooden lodgings. He kindly recommended one and, as a token of gratitude, we slipped him a few copper coins. It took some time to adjust to this practice here—after all, civil servants casually accepting “tips” as a matter of course isn’t something I expected.
After thanking him, we proceeded through the streets where the houses were spaced far apart. Carefully laid cobblestones marked the main thoroughfares, but within the city walls, the roads were simple dirt, smoothed out. Street lamps lined the avenues as in the capital, giving this place a genuinely pastoral, rural charm.
Near the city walls, in the barracks district, we rented a room at a wooden inn for ten assa—these inns only rented out rooms, expecting guests to handle all their own cooking. The slightly leaning building exuded a historical feel, but the interior was surprisingly clean. It seemed the guard hadn’t been bribed to steer us to a terrible place.
A single stable nearby could cover all the hostels in this area. It wasn’t in the best condition visually, but the stablehand, along with his son, were honest folk who treated underage travelers like us with respect, addressing us as “master” without disdain. Their service didn’t appear to be anything to worry about.
They charged fifteen assa per horse per day, including water and feed, with two horses costing twenty-five assa. While more expensive than a human’s lodging, given the extra care involved, it made sense. Most importantly, our horses were vital companions in our adventures, and if they could rest well, the cost was worth it.
Giving a five assa tip, I asked them to give our horses a good meal, and with that done, it was time to fill our own stomachs.
“What kind of food would you like?”
“Mm, though it’s true that there aren’t many stalls around here.”
That’s right—on reflection, there really were few stalls. Of course, expecting a city stall on every corner like in the capital would be unreasonable. After all, even my manor had only one tavern and one eating house, and stalls only appeared with the seasonal merchant convoys.
“Dammit—I should’ve asked the guard about restaurants when I had the chance.”
I scratched my head, regretting the oversight. I could’ve just asked the stablehand father and son too. With their cheerful demeanor, they probably would have helpfully given tips about eating places in the barrack district.
As I thought about going back to ask, Mika tugged at my clothing and pointed to a tavern.
“That place over there, Eirich. Quite a few people are going in and out. The food must be good, right?”
The place she pointed to matched the quaint atmosphere of the area. True enough, it saw a steady stream of customers, many of them dressed as travelers. Among them were adventurers and mercenaries, wearing only a chest plate or vambrace as light armor.
Here, like in the capital, only guards, nobles, and their escorts were allowed to carry swords openly. In an Empire urban area, it wasn’t wise to carry dangerous weapons around lightly. A violent quarrel could cause significant problems for the city.
I’d left behind at the inn my combat gear—my “Sending Wolf,” the sword I’d taken as spoils of war, and the whole armor set. All I wore were a teardrop-shaped gorget around my neck, hand guards, and a fairy dagger hidden in my sleeve, along with a magical focus. Still, with the focus ring I wore, I theoretically could still do pretty much anything if pushed.
Come to think of it, isn’t it possible the ring-shaped focus was phased out not just due to trends favoring greater convergence but because of rumors that it might be banned by the government? Regardless of how rare the materials, the idea that wearing just one ring could sneak such deadly assassination tools into various places is terrifying indeed.
With that unsettling thought in mind, we stepped inside the tavern.
As we entered, the supposed spacious hall was packed with customers, making it quite cramped. The air was heavy with the smell of alcohol and people, mingling with food scents to produce a chaotic symphony of odors.
The clinking of drinking cups, raucous laughter, the cries of joy and despair from card and board games—all creating the quintessential atmosphere of a tavern at the edge of the earth.
Yes, this is it. This is exactly what I was looking for. Despite all the bizarre twists in my recent life, encountering such pure fantasy sceneries always brings me joy.
That said, we weren’t treated like children who should drink milk and go to sleep. There were other young people around our age, likely working as apprentice merchants with convoys.
“Alright, just a sec! It’s packed, but we’ve got a couple seats available!”
A waitress bounded over, her deep-cleavage traditional outfit from the Northern region on full display. Her long, braided blonde hair and freckled face lit up with a smile as bright as the sun—it was a quintessential country inn look.
We followed her to a corner counter while the adjacent table hosted men absorbed in their card game, occasionally throwing around copper and silver coins.
Though taverns are excellent places for gathering information, I wasn’t about to go around asking questions here. After all, this being near our inn suggested it was likely frequented by travelers or merchant convoys. The odds of finding any meaningful news about Lord Faige here were slim.
“What’ll it be, young masters? Today we butchered some sheep, so our stew is particularly delicious.”
Lamb? That’s unusual. Around here, pork is the staple, sheep requiring pasture land are rarely eaten. Or could it be that, precisely because Northern winters make keeping livestock difficult, they raise hardier sheep?
“I haven’t had that in a while. I’ll go for that, please.”
Thinking back, you did mention you’re originally from the North, didn’t you? So this is likely a familiar taste—surely it won’t disappoint. Mimicking Mika’s choice, I ordered the same dish.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve had this. I’m glad we could get it here. It’s hard to find in the capital.”
Generally, the Threefold Empire has many forests, thus limited grazing land. Typically, the gently sloping terrains suited for pasture are used as arable land because of its higher yield per acre. Consequently, cattle or sheep have been given less priority over pigs, which can be fed acorns from the woods.
No wonder Mika has been craving her hometown cuisine.
…Speaking of which, it’s been a long time since I’ve last had rice. Here in the Threefold Empire, we’ve grown accustomed to meals centered around bread and pork, but there’s something about the taste that clings to the spirit and soul of someone like me. And I’d love to have some miso soup… It’s been ages since I last had some, but it’s something unforgettable.
In the southern Inner Sea region, they eat rice too, I’ve heard, but it’s far removed from the Japonica rice I’m familiar with, refined through generations of selective breeding. It’s probably delicious too, but hometown flavors just aren’t as easy to find…
“It’s good to have you happy!”
I gripped Mika’s shoulder, getting unexpectedly passionate about my reminiscing. Let them stare—this is deeply personal to me.
Incidentally, the lamb stew, priced at eight assa per person, wasn’t quite the taste of home according to Mika. She mentioned the ginger was overpowering.
But it was pretty good otherwise. A touch of pepper or prickly ash would have been welcome, though.
After enjoying this rather exotic meal, we decided to part ways for a bit. Satisfied with a meal reminding her of home, Mika announced she’d head back to the inn to sleep well and perhaps have pleasant dreams. I, on the other hand, intended to visit the public bath to wash off several days’ worth of grime.
The public bath was situated near the river outside the city walls at the edge of town. Though compact like the city itself, the place was well-loved by the townsfolk. Despite its old appearance, the upkeep was solid, and it wasn’t lacking for customers.
After paying the entrance fee and entering, it turned out to be a straightforward yet well-constructed bathhouse. There were cold water baths, warm baths, a hot one… and oh, happily, a steam room.
“Alright! A proper steam room, finally.”
Steam rooms in the Imperial Capital, for some reason, never reached the right temperatures. Maybe people from cities and rural areas have different preferences. All I know is, I like it hotter, so this is a welcome change.
“Hey, this place is all ours—what a lucky break.”
True to my expectations, the steam room’s wood stove had been heated nice and hot. Sprinkling water produced copious steam, evoking familiar scents and sensations. This reminded me of bath days at the manor, where everyone gathered and relaxed. If I’d stayed, I’d probably be invited along with Margit now. Come to think of it, despite everyone’s youthful appearance, being around actual children was somewhat unusual for us—it might have been improper, in fact.
I was enjoying the solitude when another customer arrived. No sense ruining a private bath, but sharing it could be pleasant too.
Pushing through the steam, the new visitor sat down a short distance from me. I gave a polite nod, and in the steam-obscured silhouette, a somewhat angular face turned toward me.
“…Never seen you before around here, huh?”
The voice carried a faint dialect, typical of someone from the Northern region. Most people in the capital spoke pristine court language, so it wasn’t often I heard this accent. Nevertheless, I could make out the words.
“Yes, I’ve come here on a bit of an errand.”
“Hm? Young one, that’s quite the journey. You’re an adventurer?”
“I just turned thirteen this fall.”
“Where’re you from, and who’s with you?”
The rough cadence belonged to an old person, judging by the gravelly voice. He seemed to be a local who’d lived a long life.
Ah—that’s it! I should’ve asked locals about Lord Faige, the person I’m supposed to visit.
“I’m here with a friend. Camping alone can be a bit lonely.”
“Mm, yeah, smart move. Dangerous for a kid to wander alone this time of year.”
Said with wisdom, his hand reached over the steam and gently patted my head. The feeling was unlike what I got when my parents or sometimes Lady Agrippina gave a pat—it was dry and knotted, certainly not human flesh.
This was the texture of wood, likely from an old tree that had dried out.
“Could I ask you something?”
“What’s on your mind?”
Now, while I’m approaching the upper forties in my overall lifespan, I’ve lived long enough to appreciate the importance of preparation. Rushing headlong into combat against monsters without knowing their nature, then shouting “This blade won’t cut through!” when facing a skeleton, is an error I’ve made and corrected—mostly.
I’d done research on Lord Faige before leaving the capital: renowned for making excellent replica manuscripts, a sweet tooth, a fiery temper when disturbed while working, and universally described by those who’ve met him as a stubborn eccentric.
And…
“Are you Lord Faige? If I may ask…?”
This was an aged tree-person, which I knew beforehand. Sitting beside me in the steam room was undoubtedly one—knotted, twisted limbs like branches, and amidst it all, eyes glowing like gold beetles, catching the light as the steam swirled.
For a moment, he looked shocked—assuming that a tree-person’s expressions mirror human emotions—and then he carefully observed me from head to toe before nodding with a graceful acceptance, shifting his earlier Northern-accented speech to a more polished courtly language.
“Indeed. And tell me, young one, what brings you to this old tree?”
