Chapter 7 - The Journey (1)
"Was I that obvious?"
"No. It's not a bad choice. As a mercenary, you'd get a badge that proves your identity no matter where you go on the continent."
"It's convenient," Reynold continued.
"Mercenaries are ranked according to the badge they receive from the guild."
He picked up a twig and drew on the ground.
"You start with the Wooden Badge. If you bring an item that can prove your identity and pay a registration fee, you get this basic rank."
Next to the Wooden Badge, he drew the Bronze Badge, Silver Badge, Gold Badge, and Platinum Badge.
"As you accumulate experience as a mercenary or contribute to the guild, you get promoted step by step. But to be honest, most people don't get past the Wooden or Bronze Badge stages."
"May I ask why?"
"There's no grand reason. Most die before that happens."
"..."
It seemed that as a mercenary, putting your life on the line was meant quite literally.
"That's why if you make it to the Silver Badge, you're considered a proven mercenary. The higher your rank, the more kinds of jobs you can take on. When it comes to pay, it goes without saying—it gets much better. If you're aiming to become a mercenary anyway, you should at least set your sights on earning the Silver Badge."
"I'll do my best."
"I won't get my hopes up, but I'll be waiting."
With that, the conversation came to an end.
A small sleeping spot was made near the campfire.
There were no warm blankets or sleeping bags. Instead, they simply spread out some leaves gathered from around the area as bedding. Maybe because it was the middle of the night, the air felt especially chilly.
As Lawrence sat warming himself by the campfire, Reynold took something out from inside his jacket.
"We'll take turns keeping watch. Two-hour shifts."
It was an hourglass.
He placed the hourglass next to the fire, where the sand began to fall slowly.
"Get some sleep. I'll take the first watch."
"No, let me take the first watch."
"If you doze off while you're on watch, you won't just get yourself killed—you'll get me killed too."
"I'm used to training—I can handle this much."
"...Do as you like"
Reynold returned to his sleeping spot, making it clear he wouldn't repeat himself.
Soon, Lawrence heard the steady rhythm of Reynold's breathing. Lawrence pulled his collar closed and fed more wood into the campfire.
It would have been a lie to say he wasn't tired.
But it was also true that he couldn't sleep.
So much had happened today.
Lawrence, now in possession of a crossbow, checked the groove and the stock, making sure everything was in order.
He kept Quarrel within easy reach, just in case something happened.
He skipped his usual magic practice tonight. There was always the small chance Reynolds might not actually be asleep.
After all, Reynold didn't fully trust Lawrence to stay alert while on watch.
Or Reynold might wake up suddenly in the middle of the night. There were just too many reasons not to feel safe practicing magic here. If he accidentally let it slip that he could use magic, he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of it.
But even setting magic practice aside, there was still so much to learn.
Everything he learned today from Reynold was hard-won knowledge, paid for in blood and sweat.
For the first time, he had hunted a monster today. And not just any monster—a village hill underwolf.
The crossbow was an incredibly powerful weapon.
It didn't even take hours to become proficient with it.
All you had to do was load a quarrel and pull the trigger. That underwolf collapsed before it could even fight back.
He learned that monsters weren't simply enemies to be feared unconditionally.
The skill of dismantling monsters would be useful many times in the future.
On the road, more than anything, he would need money.
Choosing to become a mercenary as a means of making a living wasn't a bad decision.
Once he started traveling the world, it would be impossible to secure a steady job.
So, the priority had to be finding work he could do to earn money no matter what village he ended up in.
No matter how hard Lawrence thought, he couldn't come up with any other job besides that of a mercenary.
Was it overconfidence to think he'd taken a step closer to standing on his own?
He didn't know. But there was one thing he was sure of: Everything that happened today was an experience worth its weight in gold.
The pounding of his heart refused to settle.
Tonight, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Lawrence lifted his head to gaze at the sky.
The star-filled night was once again awash in beautiful colors.
Lawrence packed his belongings and looked around the room.
The lodgings where he'd stayed for months suddenly felt small today.
There weren't many new things he'd acquired since joining the monastery.
The only things that came to mind were the Holy Scripture and the fragment of the Goddess Statue he'd just packed into his bag.
He knew he wasn't the type to become attached to possessions.
Of course, he sometimes wished for delicious food or thought having a lot of money would be nice, but if someone asked him to name a specific item he wanted, he'd have a hard time answering.
If he really had to mention something he needed right now…
He wanted something that would help him on his journey.
No, that wasn't quite right, either.
It wasn't that he truly felt he needed anything in particular.
Shaking off a smile that rose without reason, the boy left his room behind.
In the corridor, he saw three workers huddled together.
They had all put off their assigned cleaning duties to come and say goodbye to Lawrence as he left the monastery.
Sister Aveline and Butler Blackwell were nowhere to be seen.
There was nothing to be done about that.
It was time for morning mass.
No one was excused from praying to the Goddess at this hour.
He was genuinely glad he'd said his farewells the night before.
"Sorry I'm late."
"You didn't forget anything, did you? If you end up having to come back after leaving the village, it'll just become a hassle."
"Yes. I've packed everything."
Joan continued, thinking it would be a relief if he hadn't dropped anything.
"Be careful, Lawrence. It's dangerous outside the monastery walls—especially the Pilgrimage Road... I don't know much about it myself, but I've heard that if you get in trouble, there's really no one to ask for help. So you'll have to stay alert."
"I'll be careful, always. Your advice has never been wrong, Joan."
"That's only because we were in the monastery. Stay strong out there. Even from afar, I'll always be praying that the Goddess watches over you."
"I hope the Goddess blesses you as well, Joan."
Joan pressed her forehead gently to Lawrence's. The touch was awkwardly warm and carried a pleasant scent.
Without warning, Edith thrust something into Lawrence's hands.
"What's this?"
It was a thick piece of cloth He thought it was a towel, but it turned out to be a piece of clothing. To be exact, it was a long, gray robe, large enough to cover his entire body.
"I was in a hurry, so I didn't have time to make a hood. Even though it's summer, the nights in the mountains or woods are cold. You can't exactly lug around a blanket, right? Make sure you wear this when you sleep. Or if you'd rather, you can lay it down and sleep on top of it."
He had thought it would be nice to have something useful for the journey. But he never imagined anyone would actually give him such a gift.
"Thank you so much. This is why I like you, Edith."
"Only at times like this?"
Maybe she could sense his sincerity, because Edith looked away. When they first met, she seemed so rough that he didn't think he could ever get close to her, but after living together and bumping elbows, he realized she wasn't bad at all—in fact, she liked taking care of people.
She just had an awkward manner that led people to misunderstand her.
If there had only been a little more time, maybe they could have become even closer.
"But I worry about one thing after I leave."
"What's that?"
"I don't know if you'll ever meet a good man."
"What are you talking about. Believe it or not, there are plenty of men who like me, you know?"
With that, she lightly bopped Lawrence on the head.
"I'll be back."
"Okay. Take care of yourself. If it ever gets too tough, you can always come home."
"You take care too, Edith."
Edith turned away, perhaps because it was too hard to look at him any longer.
Joan gently comforted Edith, whose shoulders were trembling slightly.
Last up was his friend of the same age. Marjorie hadn't even managed to say goodbye yet, and her eyes were already brimming with tears.
"Be careful out there, Lawrence."
"I will. You too. Now you're the youngest again, so you have to hang in there."
"If you thought that, maybe you should've stayed a bit longer."
"Sorry. I can't really argue with that."
Laughing through her tears, she hugged Lawrence.
"Let's meet again."
"Meet again? Who knows when that'll be? By the time you come back from your pilgrimage, I might not even be here anymore."
"I'll come find you. You said it was Brighton Village, right? You all said you were from there."
"You talk big for someone who doesn't even know where that is."
Lawrence looked back at the three of them. It was a bond that could be called short or long, depending on how you saw it. Just like the friends he'd run through the back alleys with as a child, these were faces he could never allow himself to forget.
Keeping their faces deep in his heart, Lawrence bowed his head low.
"Thank you for everything you've done for me."
After saying goodbye, he headed toward the door.
"Goodbye, Lawrence! Take care of yourself!"
Marjorie's tearful voice called out. He purposefully didn't look back. He knew if he did, he'd see them waving for who knows how long, and his own eyes were already brimming with tears.
"That took long enough."
What steadied Lawrence's heavy heart was a cold voice.
A man leaned against the monastery gate, smoke curling from a cigarette.
Reynold was watching Lawrence, his irritation plain to see.
"I'll be imposing on you for just a little while longer."
"Looks like I've picked up an extra piece of luggage."
The grumbling voice was strangely comforting.
In just this past week, this man had taught him everything he needed to know to survive out here—what to do outside these walls, and how a person should live.
He was like a life mentor.
Maybe that's why?
Lawrence's gaze toward the cynical pilgrim had changed, just a little.
"I'll say this in advance. If you become a burden, I'll leave you behind."
"If it comes to that, I'll light my own way alone."
"You know how to talk, I'll give you that. If you're so capable, why don't you just go by yourself? Why hang on to someone else's coattails?"
"Now that you mention it, you've got a point."
Reynold clicked his tongue, as if thinking, If only he'd stop talking… Looking dissatisfied, he started walking first.
Lawrence picked up the sack Reynold had left behind. Inside were the pieces of equipment he'd grown familiar with over the past few days. Despite all the grumbling, the message was clear: Reynold was allowing him to come along.
"If you get it, then keep up. I'm not in the habit of looking after others."
A cold tone that said, "Follow if you want, or don't."
But Lawrence understood the meaning behind those words, and with a lighter step, he set off.
"I'll do my best from now on."
"Don't talk about it. Prove it with your actions."
Reynold waved him off in annoyance.
He moved toward sights he had never seen before. The Saint Charmant Monastery quickly vanished from view. Lawrence felt a bittersweet elation and, somewhere deep inside, a faint spark of excitement.
It was a journey he'd never even dared to imagine. As a child, just the thought of leaving his village always ended as a daydream.
Outside the village was a world full of unknown dangers. Even the gang leader, who knew more than anyone else, always forbade his friends from going beyond the village.
There was no need to even mention the time when he was too young to remember. In short, today could be called a monumental day.
"Is the Pilgrimage Road near Redanthus Village?"
"If it were that convenient, I wouldn't have had to worry about taking you along, would I?"
The way Reynold said it, as if it were all Lawrence's fault, made him feel a bit embarrassed for no reason.
"What kind of village is Redanthus?"
"It's a town that has everything you could need."
"What do you mean by 'everything'?"
"Just what I said. Whatever you can think of, you'll probably find it there."
Lawrence paused a moment to choose his words, then spoke up.
"So… would there happen to be any buildings related to magic?"
"…Are you talking about a magic shop?"
A brief pause. The normally curt voice changed, as if a little surprised.
"Are you curious about magic?"
"Have you ever seen a wizard, Reynold?"
"Magic's not something you see every day. And it's not as impressive as you're hoping, either."
"So you have seen one, then."
"Yeah. I've seen enough to last a lifetime."
Lawrence felt his heart race with excitement. So far, the only magic he knew about was the Shadow and Fire spells he himself could use.
But what about other people? What other kinds of magic might other wizards be able to perform? He couldn't help but wonder.
"Have you ever heard of Archmage Reano?"
"Reano?"
"He's a famous legend. They say when Archmage Reano cast his spells, typhoons would rage and fire would rain down from the sky. According to the tales, that's how the great Anabram Desert of the Sultaniya Kingdom was created."
Lawrence's mouth hung open in awe. He didn't know exactly what the Anabram Desert was, but the idea of storms and fire swirling around was incredible.
"M-magic can do things like that?"
"Do you believe all that?"
"Sorry?"
"I'm asking if you actually believe that. If stuff like that were really possible, the whole world would have turned into one giant desert by now. Legends are just legends. Are you really such a fool that you believe that nonsense?" Be careful not to get fooled out there. That's genuine advice."
"..."
Reynold smirked, as if he didn't even find it amusing.
"Well, if there's a territory war or kingdoms go to battle, you can witness a smaller version of those legends. Fireballs really do fly from wands like you imagine. But what happens after that is the real problem. When fire rains down from the sky, how many people do you think die?"
"Well… I think an incredible number would die."
"Exactly. Magic isn't the noble art you imagine it to be. Great power always brings hatred and fear along with it. Love and mercy—those belong to a road that's the exact opposite of the one we walk. You'd be better off not falling under the spell of magic."
That last part was as close to real advice as Reynold ever got. His unusually serious tone left Lawrence with no choice but to nod in response.
When he thought about it, it just made sense. Lawrence clung to the possibilities that magic offered.
But deep down, he knew reality wasn't so forgiving.
Magic was, at its core, a skill honed for killing people.
In the stories, wizards used magic to defeat armies or even slay the Demon King.
Yeah. He knew that.
He definitely should have known…
But Reynold's cold tone struck something deep inside him.
"From now on, save your breath. We've got at least twenty days of walking ahead."
"Twenty days… That's a long way."
"It's not close. Unless we manage to hitch a ride on a wagon along the way, then maybe we'd cut it down to five days."
"If it's a wagon, it would probably belong to a traveling merchant moving between villages."
"We don't see them often, but sometimes we run into them out on the road."
Reynold was right.
On the third day of their journey, the two of them came across a traveling merchant surrounded by a horde of goblins.