467: A Lonely Hunt
—Today was a day off.
And yet, the reason I had been thinking of the past was probably because the Sixth Army had been disbanded the other day.
In Itria, when I had received the news that the Lord of Disease had died, even though it had been an official notification, we had somehow not been able to believe it.
That she, who had seemed as if she would not die even if she were killed. She, who had risen to the position of a supreme commander of the Demon King’s army, as a mere human.
That she could not possibly die.
But she was just a human. Even if she had been protected by a magical defense that even a Dark Knight could not break with a wooden sword in training.
Her words were like a drop of poison, and her smile was mixed with fear. And yet, she had been just a human.
…In fact, the fact that she had been resurrected after she had died was crazy.
But I was truly glad. I couldn’t bear to see Bringit-sama so distraught… and if the gentle expression she had shown at the ‘flower viewing’ the other day were to be known, then the members of the Litalside garrison—especially the veterans—would have probably strung her up.
I had seen something good.
I slung my personal bow over my back. It was a short bow, easy to handle. And I didn’t have many arrows. Today was a day off.
Should I go hunting, and then go to the city to sell my prey? I could also eat it myself.
As I was thinking that, I picked up my glasses case. The ‘contact lenses’ were for military use. Wearing them outside of my military duties—let alone taking them home—was not permitted.
When I thought of glasses, I had only had the image of something that a technician from the magic tool workshop would sometimes wear.
At the flower viewing the other day, when I had told the Lord of Disease that I wanted to protect my eyes, except when I was on watch or hunting—she had given me these, as a ‘sample.’ They were called ‘fashion glasses.’ She had said that if I gave her my impressions, then they would be free. And if I liked them, then I should just use them—or so she had said.
Well, I didn’t mind giving her my impressions, and if I liked them, then of course I would be happy to be allowed to use them. The fact that they were free was probably because it was a part of her data collection for product development, and a pre-launch promotion, for her post-retirement business.
…Probably.
But would she go so far as to say, “I’ve always thought you were an intelligent beauty who would look good in glasses. Please, let me see you in them, just once”?
For some reason, a shiver ran down my spine. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Her words and actions, in private, were hard to understand. As a soldier, I had thought we were ‘of the same ilk.’
That said, she hadn’t done anything particularly strange. As she had said, she had just looked.
I put on the glasses, and the world looked a little different, with the single pane of glass and the frame at the edge of my vision.
I looked in the mirror. …Did I look smart?
Finally, I looked back at the ‘lock of hair’—a blue-gray beast fur—that was sitting on a small red cushion on top of a small chest of drawers, and I gave a light wave.
“I’m off, Dad.”
In the forest, I held my breath. The calm brown hooded cape, which a hunter often wore, was an ear-out type, so that a dark elf’s ears would not get caught. The rest of my clothes were also easy to move in. I had taken off my glasses and had put them in a special case in the pouch at my hip.
I read the wind with my ears, and I felt the wind with my eyes. For that, even a single pane of glass was a hindrance.
My father had taught me how to read the wind with my ears. …Since my father had been a wolf-type beastman, I didn’t know if I, a dark elf, was doing it correctly.
When I was small, I had thought that when I grew up, I would grow fur all over my body, and I would have wolf ears and a tail. Since I was a dark elf, my mother was, of course, a dark elf. But since my mother had died shortly after I had been born, I had learned how to survive from my now-deceased father.
How to give first aid. Various everyday magic spells. Edible grasses and berries. How to start a fire, how to camp. The art of the bow. The prey you could hunt. The magical beasts you shouldn’t mess with.
…To think that I would have the opportunity to pet a Black Hound Barghest, which my father had told me to never mess with.
There was no reason for a hunter to fight a Black Hound Barghest. Since you couldn’t get any meat or fur, it would just be a matter of life and death. And the odds were bad.
My father had told me, over and over. If you were found, then you should never show any hostility. That was an insatiable hunger. Something that a person should not subjugate.
In fact, among my fellow hunters, the conclusion was that they were harmless, as long as you didn’t mess with them.
I had seen a few Black Hound Barghests while hunting in the forest. They would look at me, as if they had clearly noticed me… and as I was staring back, tense, they would usually look away and disappear into the depths of the forest. I had never heard of a hunter being attacked by a Black Hound Barghest.
It wasn’t that there were no casualties, and it seemed that a stray livestock was sometimes targeted, but that was something you had to give up as the ‘forest’s share.’
I didn’t know why the ones who had disappeared in the depths of the forest had not returned… The fact that the number of reported incidents was extremely low… was probably partly because there was no one to tell the story, when a battle did occur.
And yet, a hunter’s job was to cross the human domain and to invade the forest’s domain. All hunters were prepared to face the consequences someday.
When the Black Hound Barghests had begun to be used as guard dogs, most of those who had tried to capture them and to make a fortune had met a gruesome end. If you gathered a large number, they would easily escape, and if you approached with a small number and with malicious intent, then you would be hunted in return.
For a time, to own a Black Hound Barghest had been a popular status symbol. —Because the difficulty of ‘capturing’ them, and the fate of those who had failed, had added to the rumors.
My father had apparently had a bitter feeling about the Black Hound Barghests being used as mere hunting dogs… or rather, as crazed guard dogs. He had been worried that something terrible would happen someday.
…I had a feeling that that ‘terrible thing’ had been in a form that my father had not expected.
In that ‘joint training exercise,’ when the Black Hound Barghests had appeared, my blood had run cold. So much so that I had reflexively nocked an arrow.
…Normally, you would think a Black Hound Barghest was dangerous at a glance. To try to pet ‘that’… was to have your survival instincts dead.
Could she not see the magical signature? —That faintness. Like a morning mist that would disappear with the morning sun. Like a light snow that would not accumulate, that fell at the beginning of autumn. As if it were not of this world.
A bottomless depth, like looking into a deep well.
…It was true that the fur I had been allowed to pet had been pleasant. It had been well-groomed. I was not familiar with hunting with hounds, and I was not very knowledgeable about ordinary dogs, but I could understand why that Lord of Disease would puff out her chest with pride.
…It was a secret that when I had hugged its neck, I had been reminded of my father a little.
I designated two waterfowl, which had just come up on the riverbank, as my prey. They were sitting ducks.
I took an arrow and nocked it. I did not prepare a second arrow. If I held an arrow in my drawing hand, my accuracy would drop.
It was a short bow, and its magical effect was minimal. Compared to my usual military longbow, its range and its power were unreliable.
In Litalside, an exchange festival was held once a year, to deepen the friendship between the army and the residents. At that festival, the longbows of the sentries of Fort Litalside were used as a test of strength, to see if you could draw them. While it was not as popular as the experience of wearing a Dark Knight’s armor, there were few among the common people who could succeed on their first try.
Of course. The effective range of the bow was the defensive zone. A strong bow, to achieve a long range, and to strike down the enemy soldiers who were trying to cling to the city walls. At a close range, where the enemy’s eyes were clearly visible, it could even penetrate a plate armor with a defensive magic, provided it didn’t glance off the curve. Since you didn’t have to channel your mana into your armor, you could put all your strength into your bow and your arrow, and into your own physical enhancement. And a skilled archer could read the wind, and even manipulate it slightly.
And besides, even a small bow was not to be underestimated. It was adjusted to me, and above all—
The arrow that was fired pierced the duck’s neck.
And I quickly drew a second arrow from my quiver and sent it into the neck of the second bird, which was about to take flight. Compared to the arrows used with a longbow, the arrowhead was much smaller, but it easily took its life.
—A hunter’s prey did not have a defensive magic, and it was not wearing a plate armor.
