I brought up the detour on the night before our departure.
After dinner, once everyone had gathered, I spread out the map. I showed them the marks I had made, and then, after a moment of hesitation, I spoke.
“Um… I think the source of the poison might be a little way off the road back. I’ve made a lot of assumptions, so I might be wrong, but… would it be alright if we took a detour?”
My voice grew quieter as I finished.
My reasoning seemed sound. If I knew the locations of the three cities, their spatial relationships, and the dates the poisoned rye arrived, I should be able to find the answer. However, my measuring tool was just a length of string marked with my fingers, distances were measured in days by carriage, I had assumed loading took exactly one day, and the map was little more than a sketch. In that person's world, where they had accurate maps and precise clocks, I’m sure I could have calculated it much better. But I had to work with what I had.
To be honest, I lacked confidence.
“I’m going,” Katia said immediately. She didn't even look like she needed to think about it. “We don’t have any other clues anyway, and it’s on the way back, right? Then it’s worth a look.”
Next, Anton spoke up after a short silence.
“Well, we can decide what to do once we find it. With a group this size, we should generally be fine.”
“Milady isn’t weak, and besides, this is our job now. We don't really have a reason to say no,” Lutz added, agreeing as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No one opposed the idea.
◇◇◇
On the morning of our departure, the main street of Soest was packed with people. The carriage moved forward amidst the thunderous cheers of the citizens who had learned we were leaving.
“Lord Angel!”
“Saint! Thank you so much!”
At the gate, Count Soest and Bishop Jonas were waiting.
“This city will never forget the debt we owe you. Once the territory has recovered, we shall repay the Church with interest.”
“May you have a safe journey. May the blessing of Viviana be upon you.”
Moritz was standing beside them. He had the face of a child trying his hardest not to cry. It was hard to believe he was older than me.
The promise in the letter flashed through my mind, and my chest stung slightly. Unable to say “I’m sorry,” I simply waved my hand.
Moritz remained standing by the gate until the city was no longer in sight.
◇◇◇
We traveled north along the highway for nearly ten days.
The inns were the same as on the way there, with all four of us sharing a room. Since it was a matter of security, it couldn't be helped.
However, I asked to have a bed to myself. Lately, I had been feeling… restless, and I couldn't sleep. So, when we left the city, I worked up the courage to ask. Mira persisted for a bit, citing “guarding duties,” but Big Sister Therese just smiled and said, “He’s at that age, after all,” and that was that. I felt like I was being teased, which only made me feel more self-conscious.
We continued further north. As we progressed while counting the post stations, we found a narrow path branching off the highway at the point closest to the mark on my map.
“Is there a village around here?”
“According to the map, no,” Anton replied.
And yet, a road continued onward. There were narrow ruts, exactly the width of a single wagon.
“…Anton. Look at this.”
Anton dismounted, knelt, and examined the tracks.
“They're deep. These are the tracks of a loaded wagon. And—”
He traced the edge of a rut with his finger.
“They're overlapping. Wagons of the same width have passed through here many times. Plus, there are tracks where the edges haven't crumbled yet. A wagon passed through here recently.”
“…I might have been right.”
No one said a word. Katia quietly rested her hand on the shaft of her halberd.
“Lord Rein. From here on, it’s my job.”
Lutz dismounted. He removed his armor, donned a grey cloak, and tucked only a short sword into his belt.
“I’m going to scout ahead. Make camp near the highway and wait for me.”
“…Be careful.”
“Don't worry, I won't start anything. Give me two days for the round trip. Milady, don't move from here until then.”
“I know.”
Lutz slipped into the forest without using the path; he was gone before he’d taken ten steps.
We returned from the ruts to the highway, stopped the carriage, and began our wait.
◇◇◇
At the exact moment Rein and the others stopped their carriage before the ruts, in a certain valley nestled in the mountains west of the highway…
“Lord Lothar. This way.”
A sturdy man led the way. He spoke with an accent not heard in these parts. Following behind the man, who served as the Site Head of this base, I slowly inspected the area from the entrance of the valley to its depths.
The fields were larger than I had expected. Low-growing rye stretched all the way to the back of the valley, which narrowed along a stream. At the tips of the ears, those black, horn-like protrusions were visible. Men working there were examining the ears with practiced hands, dropping only the black pieces into baskets.
On the middle tier stood a barn and barracks. On the upper tier, double wooden fences were erected, along with a single watchtower. The climbing path was a single switchback road, just wide enough for a wagon.
As a defensive position, it wasn't bad, I thought.
The fences and the tower were too crude to be called a fort. However, the terrain more than made up for it. Against Monsters, bandits, or a single squad of local territorial guards, they could probably hold that entrance for days.
“What will you do if attacked? Hold the fort?”
When I asked the Site Head, he answered nonchalantly.
“Depends on the enemy. We can brush off Monsters or bandits, and I'm confident we can hold out against a vanguard of territorial guards. However, we don't expect to hold out forever deep within enemy territory. Once we've repelled them and reached a stalemate, we'll set fire to the fort to buy time and escape through the mountains out the back to return to our country. The climbing path is the only way up. If it's burning, no one can come up.”
Now that he mentioned it, jars of oil and bundles of dry grass were placed inconspicuously under the eaves of the barn and at the base of the fences. I see. It was well thought out.
The Magicians I had brought along to maintain the appearance of cooperation were grumbling in front of the barracks.
“…Lord Lothar. This isn't what we agreed upon. I heard it was guard duty for a mountain villa. I never heard anything about coming to the borderlands.”
The speaker was a man in his forties with a shabby appearance. He was a third son from the Royal Capital who couldn't inherit his family home. His only saving grace was that he could use magic, and he had been kept as a useless burden by his family until this age.
“Why must I be in such a backwater…”
“—You have a lot to say about a job you accepted.”
When I stepped half a pace closer, the man backed away.
“The job hasn't changed since the request. Simple guard duty. That's all. If you're dissatisfied, you're free to return to the Royal Capital, but in that case, you won't receive a single copper coin. Furthermore, I’ll leave it to your imagination what would happen if you were to sell the information you've seen here.”
The third son started to say something, then shut his mouth.
They didn't know what was being grown in these fields. There was no need to tell them. Ignoring the disgruntled man, I continued my conversation with the Site Head.
“By the way, the response from each territory has become faster lately, and the damage is being mitigated. Should we change our approach?”
“It's already affecting the reliability of the grain trade. Our faction won't have a problem even if things stay like this, but… let's see. Let's make a move.”
Currently, the poison was being mixed into the rye as a disguise, but because it could be distinguished by sight, it was being incinerated before it could be milled. However, if it were milled into flour, it would likely be impossible to detect, and it could be mixed into other grains. If that happened, the scope of what needed to be burned would expand. If we prepared disposable personnel here to mill and distribute the flour, the entire borderlands would fall into a state of severe food insecurity.
In other words, the local territories would weaken, and our faction would profit from the trade. It was killing two birds with one stone.
In the evening, I climbed the watchtower.
I could see all the way to the entrance of the valley. The road of ruts wound through the trees like a thread, disappearing toward the highway. There were no wagons, no signs of people.
As expected, the attack on Soest had failed. I had only hired desperate types from the Slums—the kind who were on the verge of starving after their food was burned and couldn’t think past their next meal. I hadn't expected much from their skill. Still, they did their job—the warning must have been delivered. If that White Angel is a clever girl, she’ll choose the path of quiet submission.
The road was silent.
“I can't stay in a place like this for long. I must return to the Royal Capital soon.”
Muttering this, I climbed down from the tower.