Episode 1-a. The Village Where Letters Fly In.
Magic has always been fascinating.
The gray landscapes created by a certain woman were beautiful and mystical.
Sometimes, the streams of mana that the empire’s wizards shot near the royal palace were of that kind as well.
Even the feast of mana scattered by one person or a few made me express my admiration.
I never got used to seeing it, no matter how many times I did.
It was an obvious statement since it was a spectacle I couldn’t see often, but I felt it even more since there were no wizards among my gathered companions.
In other words.
Magic always created a landscape that made one’s sense of reality float away, disappearing beyond the horizon.
It enchanted people with sights that seemed absurd, as if they had fallen right out of a dream.
Longing for the lives of those who were blessed with mana from birth, I would sigh in disappointment when I realized the reality that I couldn’t even hold a handful of mana myself.
So.
“Wow….”
“Wow….”
“Ooh….”
“…, Hmph. They look like fools.”
We couldn’t help but marvel at the scenery of the village, Liteira, where the letters were flying in.
It was like a landscape with a drawn boundary.
The sky beyond the village reflected the usual blue and high ceiling, but inside the humble castle walls of the village, countless letters floated like flocks of birds.
“If there are so many letters, there might be some delivered to us. Right, Tori?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting much since Grandpa Horn has set the bar low.”
“…These little ones are getting cheeky, just like Ain.”
With that, I ignored the voice coming from behind and flicked the reins to urge the horses on.
There were already many people inside the village.
Muscular adventurers who looked strong openly, or a mysterious woman in a robe.
Treasure hunters spinning daggers on their hands and guides tapping the ground with staffs.
An old man who looked cranky and little children who looked like twins.
From ordinary-looking people to those who seemed even less ordinary.
A diverse array of people hoped for the letters floating in the sky to come to them.
“…, there are more people than I expected.”
“That just means there are many who cling to that one letter. Even though it probably won’t be delivered.”
One letter.
It might be useless for someone, but for others, it is a lifeline they must hold onto.
The strong wish for it to climb to higher places.
The weak hope to be saved from their miserable lives.
“Haha…, we’re just… um, either way, we’ll be leaving after a week. But I wonder if we can find a place to stay…”
“Stop worrying, you fool. Most of them will skimp and spend a week camping out, so there should be plenty of empty accommodations.”
And I.
I was hoping for something a bit different from that.
I was certainly hoping for salvation, but it was a salvation aimed at a certain woman, not for me.
I wanted neither the strong’s nor the weak’s.
Anyway.
I snapped the reins, and the carriage entered the village.
“Let’s go in.”
““Wow~””
The moment our carriage crossed the village boundary, a bell rang in the sky.
The ancient remnants of magic announced that new naive souls had entered the village.
However, not a single person paid attention to that sound.
The letters continued to flutter and circle in the sky, and people’s gaze remained fixed on the heavens, not on us.
So I muttered quietly.
“…, they look like fanatics.”
“Well…, that’s how it is. Desperation creates fanatics.”
Old Horn spat out, as if feeling bitter.
And as always, his deeply sunken eyes shimmered with what seemed like a poignant light, gazing up at the sky.
Eyes lost in the past.
The fading flames of those struggling, sinking into the past.
Disliking that, I had to snap the reins once more to hurry the horses along.
Thus, we arrived at our lodging and unpacked our things.
“No way, the price is too high. These bastards aren’t seasonal merchants, and with the daily crowd, they charge like this?”
I grumbled as I recalled how I had just been trembling while pulling out my purse for such a high price.
It was ridiculous that these crazy merchants were charging over five times what we would pay in other cities.
No matter how I looked around, the accommodations seemed five times lower in quality compared to other places.
And there was an old man chuckling at my expense.
“Of course. There’s such an idiot like you. They know most will only stay a week and never return, so it’s a perfect way to catch a fool.”
“…, then you’re a fool too, Grandpa Horn. You’re my companion.”
“Why would I be a fool when it’s not my money, you idiot? Hmph, as expected, the free lodging does have a different air about it. Don’t you think so, kids?”
Old Horn grinned, looking amused as he saw me and teased me.
““Yeah~””
“Did you see that, fool?”
“…, I should have just left you to sleep outside. This was a pointless consideration.”
From what I saw, this old man had learned nothing in the hundreds of years but how to make annoying comments.
His hand brushing the hair of the giggling children was quite tender, but at least it wasn’t a kindness aimed at me.
So I sighed deeply and turned my gaze to the scenery beyond the window.
What I could see were the many letters I had observed upon entering the village and the people reaching their hands out to them.
Particularly striking were the desperate faces of those longing for letters.
The urgency after just a week was too pathetic and too desperate.
The heartfelt emotion in their eyes seemed to blossom continuously.
“Grandpa…, are those desperately waiting for a letter really willing to wait for just a week?”
I couldn’t believe anyone could think they would just wait for a week and then shrug it off after seeing that sight.
At my words, Grandpa Horn sighed deeply and came close to me.
He raised his muscular hand to point to a middle-aged or elderly woman standing next to the central fountain in the village, gazing up at the sky.
“…, do you see that woman?”
“Yes, you mean the elderly lady?”
After a moment of looking at her with a bitter expression, he continued.
“Yeah, that woman was here 50 years ago when I visited. Human time really does fly. I almost didn’t recognize her.”
“…”
“She was bright and young then, but now she’s become a hunchbacked old lady. I never thought she would still be waiting for letters.”
Fifty years.
That was half a lifetime for humans.
According to Horn, the elderly woman by the fountain had been waiting for letters in this village for that long.
However.
As far as I knew, and according to Grandpa Horn,
“Didn’t you say that if a letter doesn’t come within a week, it likely won’t come at all?”
There was a common saying that letters were delivered within a week after arriving in Liteira.
It was said that people who waited beyond that time—one month, one year, or even ten years—had never received a letter.
“They all know that story well. But knowing it and being able to accept it are two different issues.”
“But…”
“There’s no ‘but’ about it. If whining would guarantee letters for everyone, then why would those who only waited a week leave?”
Moreover, this was something most people in the world found obvious.
Even if one had 50 years of longing, the world is harsh enough that such longing doesn’t promise salvation.
Letters are delivered only to the chosen, and common, foolish people do not receive them.
The letters exchanged between people were meant to connect their hearts, but the ones flying in here are not of that kind.
Of course, I understood that much as well.
There was no need to come all this way just to receive a simple letter.
Still.
“…, even so, after waiting for 50 years, they could at least give her one letter. It shouldn’t be that hard to deliver just one letter.”
The human heart is always inconsistent; it can be shaken even by the stories of strangers.
I wished to be a rational person, yet I always ended up being emotional, hoping such landscapes wouldn’t form.
“…, even if that’s what you think, remnants of magic and the gods certainly don’t share that view. What can I say…, if being born as a creature is a mistake, then it is a mistake.”
Nothing will come true just because one wishes for it.
That thought made me dislike this world just a little, or rather, quite a lot.
When I looked back at the essence of it all.
To those like myself, those without roles, receiving even a single letter feels too precious.
It felt like their roles were just to long and wish while once again returning to the ground.
I ended up thinking that the workings of the world were filled with absurdities.
“…, tsk.”
Yet, since there was nothing I could do about it, I clicked my tongue and pulled the curtain to cover the window.
Additionally.
“Kid, you’re also wishing for something nonsensical, aren’t you? Your target just happens not to be this letter.”
As Horn said, I was perhaps wishing for something even more nonsensical than them.
I was struggling to change perceptions that would last for hundreds of years.
The village where letters fly in, Liteira.
I concluded that it was a place I didn’t like much, only a day after arriving.
It was a place filled with more romance than I expected, yet also not as romantic as I thought.
