The Lord of the Rust Mountains

by Kanata Yanagino

  Once we had a pleasant mood going, we returned to the tavern to find Al repairing the door. Come to think of it, the door broke, didn’t it, when he—

  “Wait, what are you doing?!”

  “I was bored just sitting around...”

  “You’re injured, you’re supposed to be—wow!”

  The door and its destroyed latch were now almost completely fixed, despite the fact that he could only have used makeshift materials and tools.

  I was seventeen solstice years old now, and I’d been living in this world for sixteen years already. Woodwork and craftsmanship weren’t beyond my understanding and I could even do a bit of them myself, but that was how I could tell.

  “Wow...”

  His skill was on a different level.

  It was only a casual quick fix, but that made the difference in skill even more obvious. In a very short span of time, he had done a beautiful repair job that couldn’t be faulted.

  “Ooh!”

  “Now that’s something.”

  The tavern owner and his daughter were equally impressed.

  “No, it’s really nothing... Not compared to you, William...” Al, however, spoke to the floor. “You’re strong and brave and...” It seemed as though he didn’t have much confidence in himself. Because of my memories of my previous life, I could kind of understand how he felt. But that was all the more reason...

  “You should stop saying things like that.”

  “Huh?”

  I squatted down and gazed up at him, looking him in the eyes. As I remembered the way Mary had spoken to me, I realized I was speaking a little more politely than usual. If I’d have been depressed like this, she would probably have said something like...

  “Stop jinxing yourself by calling yourself weak and cowardly in a roundabout fashion. Words have power. Power to bind people and curse people.”

  His hazel eyes wavered hesitantly.

  “It’s one thing for an enemy to curse you, but please stop placing such curses on your own heart. Don’t you think that you at least should be your own heart’s biggest ally?”

  In my past life, I hadn’t been able to manage that, either, so I wasn’t really one to talk. But despite that, I spoke firmly and with a smile. There were times when it was important to pretend, regardless of what you might or might not have achieved in your past.

  “R-Right!”

  I was glad to see that Al seemed to be sitting up a little bit straighter.

  ◆

  This world had a type of cooking called jar-boiling, in which all kinds of ingredients were put into a wide-mouthed jar with water, alcohol, salt, herbs, and spices, and brought to a simmer. In essence, it was basically a hotchpotch, but when it was made by someone who was good at it, the delicious, savory taste of the broth, the flavor of the herbs, and the piquancy of the spices all complemented each other perfectly, and it tasted very good.

  There was such a jar placed in front of me at this very moment, with a large lid over its wide opening. The tavern girl lifted the lid with a thick cloth, and a wonderful smell swelled out. It was jar-boiled river fish.

  “Wow...”

  Inside, there was large white fish of the kind that could be reliably caught in the great river flowing beside Torch Port, chopped-up in-season vegetables, slightly aged wine, rock salt, and herbs, all cooked together into a stew. It came with crusty multigrain bread, a piece of cheese with a distinctive smell which was apparently goat’s cheese, and even wine diluted with hot water.

  This would be categorized as a top-class meal. Even a main meal of porridge with a few vegetable scraps mixed in and a garnish of some kind of salty preserved food would have counted as “pretty good.” While visiting the poor villages of Beast Woods to offer medical treatment, I had often found myself floored by what was offered to me for food. In this area and time period, it was all too common to find food that had abandoned the concepts of nutritional balance and eating for pleasure. It made me appreciate that “cooking” was an art that could only exist upon a foundation of wealth. So I was very grateful for proper meals.

  “Mater our Earth-Mother, gods of good virtue, bless this food, which by thy merciful love we are about to receive, and let it sustain us in body and mind.” I said grace, the same prayer as usual. It had become a habit by now.

  Prayer was a very effective method for changing your mood and putting your thoughts in order. This was something I had only learned after being born into this world.

  “For the grace of the gods, we are truly thankful.”

  Even in my previous life, religion was something that had been passed down continuously for millennia. Anything surviving that long had to have considerable advantages and utility. That much was obvious.

  “Cheers.” I raised my cup to the black-haired dwarf named Al. Al timidly raised his cup back.

  I used a large wooden ladle to serve it out from the jar into earthenware bowls.

  “Oh, this is good.”

  The fish fell apart very easily, and the roughly chopped vegetables had absorbed the flavor of the broth. It had a slightly salty taste and went well with alcohol. This was probably the way the laborers liked it.

  Al nodded in agreement. He dipped some of the crusty bread into the sauce and ate it. It looked delicious, so I copied him. It was indeed delicious. I also enjoyed the unique flavor of the cheese. It would have been too pungent on its own, but it was just right paired with the bread.

  The two of us ate up the tavern cooking with relish. Al’s expression had been quite stiff in the beginning, but the tasty cooking seemed to have mellowed his mood.

  A question occurred to me. “Come to think of it, what brought you here to begin with?”

  I didn’t doubt in the least that he was well intentioned and had only been trying to stop those two from fighting. That was clearly the kind of person he was. But there were a lot of humans in the streets around here. Fortunately, there hadn’t yet been any large public clashes between races here in Torch Port, but even so, dwarves and humans had different cultures and led different lifestyles. It was inevitable that the residential areas would end up becoming a little segregated. What had brought a dwarf like him here?

  “U-Um, I...”

  I nodded and waited patiently while he tried to get his words out.

  “I, I only just moved here, and...”

  “Go on.”

  “T-To, ah, get a feel for the place? I guess you’d say, or... umm, I mean...”

  Ahh, so he was exploring, I thought, but deliberately didn’t say it myself, instead nodding for him to continue.

  “Something like... exploring...” He seemed to shrink back into his chair as he said it.

  “There’s nothing very strange about that, if you ask me. It’s necessary, right?”

  “Yes...”

  This city had its share of nasty people, but I paid attention, and Reystov and company also kept watchful eyes out, so no one dared to start anything big in public areas like the main streets. And since no major trouble would start just from walking around, it was relatively important to do that first of all and become familiar with the area. Obviously, this world didn’t have public transport, detailed city maps, traffic signs, or house numbers on display. Unless you walked around on your own two feet for a while taking in everything you saw, you really wouldn’t know your way around.

  Al might have been peering at my morning training not just because he was interested in it, but also to make sure he knew the location of the liege’s mansion.

  “The clan is busy trying to smooth everything out, but it’s still...”

  “Oh, you mean Grendir?”

  “Oh, um, yes.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We have it mostly organized.”

  I hadn’t only been listening to their old war stories. Agnarr and I had also made progress on dividing up the residential areas, lending out what was needed to get by for now, and organizing the amount of people who wanted to migrate here and their va
rious skills.

  I told Al that in any case, there was no need for him to worry, and he looked at me with eyes full of all kinds of emotions. They were eyes that looked up from below, as a child on the street might look up to an adult, and they were full of envy, respect, admiration, and probably a little self-deprecation and submissiveness.

  “You’re amazing.”

  I recognized those eyes somehow. I had probably looked just like this in my previous life. That was probably why.

  “You’re strong, dependable, you can even manage other people. Seriously, compared to me...”

  “Well, why don’t you give it a go yourself?”

  “Huh?”

  I couldn’t help it anymore. I had to do something for him. “You can reach a certain level of strength just by eating and training. Seeming dependable is all down to how you act and building confidence through experience. And you naturally learn how to manage other people when you have enough experience interacting with them.”

  All a person needs to gain those things is an average body, an average brain, and a little bit of strength to act on their desires. That was the case both in my past world and in this one. If a person is unable to gain those things, it’s often the case that their motivation is broken, or has been broken. Some event may have broken them down. It can happen to anyone.

  Going by the information I could remember, I seemed to have received a reasonable education in my past life, and I had been doing well up until a certain point, ambitious in my own way. I couldn’t remember where I’d broken or been broken, but there are often other factors besides willpower, ability, and talent that play a part in things like this.

  For instance, one’s environment and luck. Even the most determined and talented person, if they are unlucky enough to be cast into a hostile, cruel, negative environment, can be knocked down and beaten until broken. And whether they can recover from that is entirely up to the whims of fate.

  Life is not always wonderful. Not everything in life is beautiful, nor is it good. There are people who love to put others down and make them suffer. If you look for the reason they became so twisted, you will find a second perpetrator, and if you look for the reason that perpetrator became twisted, you will find a third. I had learned through leaving the city of the dead that even deplorability like that was simply part of the reality of this world.

  I now found it understandable that the god of death, Stagnate, had come out with the idea of a paradise for only the most distinguished of undead. Of course, “it’s understandable” was as far as I could go. Faced with the question of whether I could accept it or not, the answer was no, I could not, and I’d decided I wouldn’t. Which was why—

  “It must be some kind of fate that I met you here. If you’re willing, Al, would you consider assisting me by becoming my squire for a while?”

  As one who had decided not to accept the god of undeath’s ideals, I felt as though I had a duty to make sure the way I lived was equally principled. For instance, by not saying goodbye here and instead offering a helping hand to a person on the verge of giving up.

  Al avoided my gaze, looking at the hand offered to him.

  “D-Do you really... mean it...?”

  I nodded and smiled at him.

  Even though I’d made the offer with the best of intentions, there was no guarantee that he’d take it. Trust was something to be gradually fostered, and helping people took patient, steady effort. It was much rarer that one could just come up with an idea and have everything sort itself out at the snap of a finger. Even if I couldn’t get him to be receptive to my suggestion now, I thought I’d like to build up a friendship with him while I kept my arm patiently extended.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not just saying it. After all, sorcerers are free to change the subject or remain silent, but lying is the one thing they must never do.”

  “Ah... I think I’ve... heard that before...”

  “Yes. It’s true. And I’m also a user of magic.”

  According to Gus, if a sorcerer lied, the power his Words held would be weakened. Words could carry different weight depending on who used them, and could be blunt or sharp. The Words of a liar accustomed to telling falsehoods would lose both their weight and their edge as time went on. That was why, even though magic was something that could be studied and practiced, only a handful of people were capable of becoming great sorcerers.

  “So I don’t lie. If you have some kind of ambition, and you want to try doing something about it, I want to help you.”

  Al was silent for a while. He sheepishly extended his hand, then pulled it back. “I might... cause you a lot of trouble...” He breathed in deeply. “But please teach me.”

  He took my hand.

  ◆

  Not only was Al a recent migrant here with no sense of where anything was, it was also nighttime. So for the time being, I decided to help him back to Dwarftown.

  When I got there, there was a bit of a commotion going on. As I got closer, wondering what this was about, I saw a frenzied group of dwarves, each of whom was carrying a light. They noticed Al and their faces changed color.

  “Young master!” They rushed up to him noisily.

  “Where in the world have you been?!”

  “You have to tell us where you’re going!”

  “We were all so worried...”

  These and other comments pelted Al like machine-gun fire. I could tell that they’d all been worried for him, but they seemed to be making his head spin.

  “In any event, I’m glad you’re safe!”

  “I, I’m sorry!”

  Ahhh. Yeah. Yeah. I got the feeling I understood Al’s upbringing and his problem. I had no idea how important Al was, but he was probably descended from dwarven nobility.

  Based on the old stories I’d heard from the dwarves, their most ardent desire was the revival of the Iron Country. They wanted to take back their lost homeland. Of course, I thought that was a good thing. The noble bloodline was also one of the integral components in achieving that, so I could understand them not wanting to lose it.

  But in Al’s case, that attitude seemed to be toxic. I figured he was more or less an adult now, yet simply going out on his own to check out the city and coming home late was enough to create a big fuss. He had probably been protected to such an extent that he had never had a proper fight before and had been raised with care, a lot of care, too much care.

  I didn’t think of him as a spoiled rich boy brought up under the protection of adults.

  I remembered from my previous life. I had read it at some point. I knew. Overprotection and excessive interference are forms of abuse.

  Don’t do that. Don’t do this. You should do this. You should do that. The correct decision to make is this one. How many children manage to develop decisiveness, action, and willpower when everything involving them is decided by others like that? I understood the reason why he’d shrunk into his chair when he told me he went exploring: he was being raised in an environment where even that wasn’t allowed as it should have been.

  “Anyway, please, don’t do this kind of thing anymore,” one of the dwarves said, trying to wrap up the discussion.

  Wearing an expression that kind of showed he was feeling smothered, Al went to nod.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  This was a family problem and none of my business, but I didn’t want to see how Al would end up in the future if things continued as they were. Even though it may have been a bit headstrong of me, I thought that this alone was a good enough reason for chiming in.

  “My name is William G. Maryblood.” I placed my right hand lightly over the left side of my chest and did a simple, traditional bow, purposefully choosing the one for greeting those of lower rank.

  There were many older dwarves among them. My name and my gesture quickly tipped them off, and they hurriedly responded with the bow for greeting a superior.

  “First, I would like to apologize. I happened to meet Mister Al in to
wn, and the two of us hit it off. I’m afraid I kept him talking until quite late.”

  “N-No, that’s all right!”

  I could hear whispers from the back and words like “liege” and “paladin.” I also saw a number of people trying to get a measure of my strength by sight, so I made no attempt to conceal it through my stance or movements. I made sure to present myself as strong.

  “It’s really him.”

  “Horrifically strong.”

  The whispers continued. A dwarf with a plainly visible scar on his face warned the others with a heavy air. “More than that. All of us put together wouldn’t stand a chance against him. We’d be crushed.”

  I, uh, I wasn’t sure I’d go that far. If everyone here suddenly turned on me, I could see myself hesitating about how to deal with it and making a wrong move.

  As many of the other dwarves went pale upon hearing his words, the dwarf with the scarred face pushed through them and stood before me. “My name is Ghelreis. I would like to express our acceptance of your apology regarding the young master, and our deepest gratitude for your concern.” He cast a hard look over me. He had the eyes of a soldier. “Well, then, what business do you have with us?”

  “I wish to take Mister Al as my squire.”

  A murmur rose among the dwarves.

  ◆

  “You say you want the young master... as your squire?”

  “But...”

  “But that’s...”

  The murmurs spread, and some people started to raise their voices.

  “Master, being the paladin’s squire would be terribly dangerous!”

  “You’d be taken along on beast hunts!”

  “I beg you to reconsider!”

  I looked at Al. He looked as if he didn’t know where to turn, and his forehead was damp with sweat.

  “I think you had better spend a night slowly thinking this over.”

  “That’s right. We’ll all talk about it together.”

  Al went pale as they kept on pressing him. I could see he was about to nod. It was probably almost a reflex by now.

  So I asked simply, “What do you want to do?”

  Al’s eyes opened wide and his pupils trembled slightly, as if the voices all around him were making him hesitate. Then he pressed his lips into a hard line.