Hell Mode: Volume 9, page 26
“Huh. I believe we’ve just finished negotiating with them,” Olbaas said. “Did they mention something, then?”
“Precisely,” the elder replied. “In the rocky mountains in the eastern region of this desert, a Rank A monster known as a king albaheron has been hunted down.”
“Ah, so a king albaheron lived in the mountains. I hadn’t known. And the legendary albaheron... It’s been a millennium.”
Albaherons were bird monsters, and their power and size changed as they matured. Every now and then, one that had managed to survive and defeat several enemies would become a Minor Deity known as a legendary albaheron. These usually flew around the world, making them difficult to track, but it was rumored that they would roost in Lehmciel Valley every thousand years to lay rainbow-colored eggs. During that time, the lesser albaherons and other bird monsters would flee in hopes of escaping the Minor Deity’s wrath.
“That’s right,” the elder said. “Of course, perhaps a king albaheron just managed to cross the ocean and take up residence in the mountain, but should there be multiple of these monsters, they may attack the village in search of water.”
“Noted,” Olbaas said. “General Bunzenberg, increase the number of archers within the ranks of our guards and keep a close watch on the sky.”
“Your wish is my command,” the general replied. “I shall increase the height of our watchtowers so that we may gaze into the distance. Also, Your Majesty, as albaherons are rather active at night, I would like Spirit Users to work in three shifts. Do I have your permission to do so?”
“Yes. I leave the formation to you.”
As Olbaas tried to move on to the next topic, the elder in charge of trade opened his mouth once more. “Your Majesty, please wait. I have one more thing to discuss with you.”
“What is it?”
“The adventurer who slew the king albaheron sold the precious king’s beak to one of the merchants. They would like to exchange it for our village’s elixir.”
Olbaas and the rest of the dark elves grimaced.
“Foolish humans,” one said. “They’re still on about that?”
“We have no elixir that grants eternal youth,” Olbaas stated. “Did you tell the merchant that the rumors are false?”
“Of course,” the elder replied. “But it seems the merchants believe that tale...”
“It’s not just the merchants,” the intelligence elder chimed in. “I periodically receive reports of such rumors swirling around this continent’s major cities.”
The elders and generals sighed in exasperation. It seemed the residents of the Galiatan Continent believed that the dark elves lived for so long due to an elixir of eternal youth.
“I suppose the existence of the Demon Lord makes people anxious,” Olbaas said. “Very well. Next time those merchants arrive in our village, call for me.”
The elders shot him a weary look, and one said, “Your Majesty, please leave any outside affairs to us.”
“But surely it’ll be more convincing if the king personally dispels these rumors,” the king countered. “Do you not agree?”
“You have a duty to protect this village. I understand your interest in foreign affairs, but I would like you to refrain from getting involved.”
“Indeed. At the very least, finding a wife and giving birth to an heir must—” another elder started before he gasped and stopped himself. “I apologize. I’ve said too much.”
The muttering elder was clearly thinking about Olbaas and Rehzel. However, Olbaas knew they were all aware that touching on the topic hurt him deeply. After all, the man was still haunted by his past. None of them had welcomed Olbaas as the next king for their own gain, and they were simply worried about him, but even so, keeping him confined to the village for a millennium simply for its and the dark elves’ future was far too heavy a burden for Olbaas to bear alone. He was exhausted. If he left the village, perhaps he could find the very thing that he yearned for somewhere out in the world. But he knew that wish would never be granted.
“Now then, what must we discuss next?” Olbaas inquired, switching topics.
＊ ＊ ＊
After lunch, the meeting continued, only ending when the sun was about to set behind the desert sands. Olbaas ate dinner and headed back to his bedroom when he noticed that the sky outside his window was already dark. The gentle moonlight brushed over the branches and leaves of the massive tree, its soft beams painting the village.
Olbaas sat on his bed, staring at the scene through the open window. Fabraaze was the only dark elven village in the world, and he was glad its nights were so peaceful. Yet he was aware that somewhere in his heart, he was not fully satisfied, and he was afraid of the dissatisfaction he felt.
If he left the village one day, there was a chance he would never want to return. What, then, would happen to the village and its people? Was it best for him to have a wife and child so the village could maintain order even if he was gone? But wouldn’t they end up in the same situation as I did with my father? No, I know they would. And then my child would feel the same pain, suffering, and loneliness that I feel. I can’t bring a child to this world with my feelings all muddled like this.
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. He was startled awake by frantic shouting.
“Bandits! Chase them away! Chase them away!”
“Your Majesty, a gang of bandits have entered our village!” a chamberlain cried, throwing open the door to the king’s room and rushing inside. “Please make haste!”
“Don’t mind me,” Olbaas ordered. “Prioritize protecting women and children.”
The chamberlain nodded.
“The king is safe! He’s unharmed!” he shouted through the open window. Then, he closed the window and stood between it and the king, serving as a shield until Olbaas finished preparing himself. Once he did so and left the room, General Bunzenberg and several guards approached.
“Capture the bandits,” the king ordered. “Let them know what punishment awaits them for daring to intrude upon the village of the dark elves.”
Olbaas moved to the reception room. Half an hour later, soldiers dressed in black leather armor entered to give status reports.
“We’ve captured the bandits!” one said.
Olbaas stood up. “Well done. Now then, I shall pay them a visit, I suppose.”
“That would be far too dangerous,” an elder said gingerly.
“What are you on about? I must personally show them the terror of the village of the dark elves. I will decide whether to lop off their heads or leave any survivors to spread the tale of our might to other criminals.”
“Of course.”
The elder bowed his head, and Olbaas followed the general who had a torch in hand. He left the shrine and crossed the bridge over the lake. Soldiers were at the ready when the group arrived at the clearing in front of the village gate, where five figures of varying sizes were sitting on the ground, surrounded by the light of the soldiers’ torches.
“Is this all of them?” Olbaas inquired.
“They may not be many, but they’re all experienced in combat,” Bunzenberg reported.
Olbaas thought back to the rumors that the elder of trade had mentioned in the afternoon. “Who are they and what are their goals?”
“We believe they’re adventurers, Your Majesty.”
Bunzenberg offered the king a piece of paper he had jotted a few notes down on. Olbaas used the fire of the torches to scan its contents.
“Hmm... I see...” the king mumbled. “It seems they’re quite experienced indeed.”
Names, Species, and Talents of the Bandits
Makkaron, human, Fist Lord
Istahl Kumes, human, Greater Saint
Yoze, beastkin, Beast Fist Lord
Nenebee, dwarf, Talos General
Gressa, human, Shaman Archwizard
Olbaas glanced back at the captured bandits. A wind spirit was restraining their wrists, and an earth spirit was keeping their feet glued to the ground. However, while there was some dirt on their clothes, there were no wounds or blood. It seemed the criminals had been captured without a fight. The fact that they had readily shared their names and Talents proved that they meant no hostility.
Why had they intruded upon the village, then? If not to steal or harm, why had they slipped into this place using the darkness as a veil? But before Olbaas could speak, the party members started bickering with one another.
“Excellent plan, my ass, Makkaron!” the dwarf lady shouted. “Look how vigilant they are!”
“If you wanna go there, Nenebee, you’re the one who said these defenses didn’t stand a chance against you,” a burly human male replied. “You dwarves are always so greedy, driven by whatever’s right in front of your nose. That’s why you miss all the important details!”
“Are you or are you not the party leader?! You should be the one to notice these important details! Did we allow you to be the leader for nothing?!”
“Lord Elmea, please forgive me, Istahl Kumes, for being unable to scold the irresponsible actions of my friends. It’s all due to my ignorance...” a tall, frail human man said with his head bowed as the two began quarreling. It seemed he was a clergyman with the Church of Elmea.
“Oh? We’re calling it ‘irresponsible actions’ now, are we?!” Makkaron shouted. “Why the hell did you tag along, then, Istahl?!”
“You’ve got a bad habit of blaming others,” a lionkin pointed out.
“You wanna treat me like a villain too, Yoze?!”
“Yoze... Is that not the name of Albahal’s Beast Prince?” Olbaas muttered. He was familiar with that name.
The human male twitched upon hearing those words and looked up at the dark elf king. “Th-That’s right! Who do you think is in front of you?! You’re in the presence of Beast Prince Yoze of Albahal! Undo these bindings and release us, or face his royal wrath!”
“How suspicious,” Olbaas replied. “Albahal should be far away in the Garlesian Continent, near an ocean. Why is someone from that nation—the Beast Prince, no less—in this faraway village? I trust the Albahalan royal isn’t foolish enough to sneak into our village under the cover of the night.”
Despite his words, a different thought filled Olbaas’s mind. But what if this lionkin really is Albahal’s Beast Prince? No one seemed to grasp his innermost thoughts, however, and the captured human male and lionkin started to panic.
“Look at what you’ve done, Makkaron! Because of your incessant babbling, we’re under greater suspicion!” the lionkin roared.
“You revealed your identity a few minutes ago!” the human shouted back. “Besides, they were gonna find out sooner or later. Not like they believe us anyway. And it’s all because you lack dignity as a Beast Prince.”
“What?! You dare ridicule me?!”
“Oh dear... My friends are fighting, but I feel so powerless. Please forgive me, Lord Elmea,” the frail human said.
“Can it, Istahl!” the dwarf yelled. “Isn’t this one of those ‘Trials of Lord Elmea’ you never shut up about?! Then you know praying will get you nowhere! It never has in the past, has it?! Goodness gracious!”
“But Nenebee, this is different from prior predicaments. This is what one would truly call a conundrum. There’s no way out.”
“That nonsense again? Do you ever shut up?!”
“Enough! Be silent!” Bunzenberg roared, his voice echoing throughout the area, and the rowdy bandits immediately went quiet. “Before you stands the king! If you remain noisy, I shall cut off all of your heads!”
“H-Hey, c’mon... I mean, um, perhaps that’s a little too extreme, good sir?” the human male said cautiously.
The general became quieter, but his voice carried a certain weight to it. “This is not a place that you can waltz into without permission,” the general continued. He was no longer yelling, but his words still had a certain weight to them. “In fact, for the past millennium, we haven’t allowed a single outsider to set foot into our village. You intruders must experience for yourselves how foolish your actions are.”
“But to kill all of us? Seriously? I think that’s still a bit much...”
“Hmm. Makkaron, was it? You may live and return. The rest shall die,” Olbaas said.
Makkaron began panicking. “Huh? No, uh, I’d feel bad for the rest of my friends.”
“Not to worry. You’ll only be allowed to live so that you may spread the word of what will happen to any intruders who dare to set foot in the village of the dark elves. Everyone will learn of the consequences. We will use our special Spirit Magic to put a curse on you—one that’s immune to Healing Magic. We will cut the tendons in your arms and legs, gouge out your eyes, and turn you into a pitiful shell of your former self. But we can show benevolence as well. Once you have spread word of the terrors of our village, we can send you to join your friends.”
Makkaron paled, but the dwarf lady laughed through her nose.
“Ha ha! Classic! Hey, Makkaron, you’ve got an important role as the leader of our party.”
“Indeed you do,” Yoze agreed. “Had you not said anything foolish about catching a glimpse of the dark elves’ rumored elixir of eternal youth, we never would have gotten into this mess. Die. No, live pathetically and repent for your sins!”
“Uh, hello? Yoze? I remember a certain Beast Prince saying, ‘If I can get my hands on the elixir of eternal youth, I might be able to become the Beast King!’ We’re in this together, if you ask me!” Makkaron retorted.
The pieces in Olbaas’s mind began to click, and he started to make sense of the situation. But before he could discuss future steps to take, Makkaron and his friends began to screech and shout again.
“That’s why I suggested that we use the entrance and ask them politely,” Yoze claimed. “You’re the one who said we’d get turned away and suggested we sneak in and negotiate directly with the king! Your foolishness is to blame!”
“Well, that’s ’cause Nenebee said, ‘The village of the dark elves has, like, no guards.’ I thought it’d be a cinch!”
“Oh, so now you’re blaming this all on me?!” Nenebee shrieked.
Bunzenberg gazed at these adventurers wearily before turning to the king. “Your Majesty, perhaps they are the ones who defeated that king albaheron.”
“I believe so,” Olbaas agreed. “They must be the ones who traded the beak to that merchant. And they must have believed the merchant’s nonsensical tales.” He turned to Makkaron. “Unfortunately for you lot, the elixir of eternal youth doesn’t exist.”
“What?! R-Really?!” Makkaron cried.
The other intruders gazed at the dark elf king in astonishment as silence blanketed the area.
“I told you that that story was fishy...” a frail young woman said, her voice cutting through the tense air. She had been quietly transfixed on the ground ever since her capture.
“Did... Did you really, Gressa?” Makkaron asked.
“I did. I even suggested that we aim for the legendary albaheron’s egg instead.”
“I thought you were just giving an alternative... Rgh, why didn’t you assert yourself more?!”
The lady maintained her gaze on the ground, but she pouted as Makkaron yelled at her. “Even if I did, it’s not like you listen to me anyway.”
“She’s not wrong. You’ve got no right to blame her,” the dwarf added.
“Ugh... Now what?” Makkaron sighed. He looked around and locked eyes with Olbaas. “Are you gonna gouge out my eyes?”
“You guys seem rather young,” Olbaas remarked.
“Well, yeah. We became Rank A a mere three years after forming a party. Everyone’s heard of the mighty Majestic!”
“I’ve never heard of you.”
Makkaron looked disappointed. “Damn, I guess the dark elves don’t know of us.”
“But I know of the Adventurer’s Guild. I’m not sure just how impressive a Rank A is, but I’d like to avoid killing you, lest I earn the ire of the Guild. Naturally, I wouldn’t like to cross blades with Albahal either.”
Makkaron’s face glimmered with hope. “So you’ll set us free?”
“But you have intruded upon our land. That is not something I can overlook. Even as king, I cannot break those laws.”
“That’s a no, then. Well, I guess Majestic ends here,” Makkaron said glumly. He sighed once more before glaring at Olbaas. “Guess there’s nothing I can do. If you’re gonna kill us, can you just kill me and let everyone else go?”
“Oh? Why the sudden change of heart?”
Makkaron looked casual. “I mean, I’m the leader of this party, y’know? And as its leader, I’ve gotta take responsibility during times like these and protect my friends.”
“How laudable. I’ve taken a liking to you.”
“What?”
Makkaron looked surprised. But it was the king’s next words that shocked everyone else.
“I will join your party. That way, I can invite you into this village as my friends. What do you say?” As silence fell over the group, the king pressed on. “I don’t think this is a bad deal for you.”
“I get it now,” Makkaron said. “But are you in your right mind, Your Majesty?”
“We don’t have the elixir of eternal youth you so desire. I presume, then, that you and your friends will go off in search of the legendary albaheron’s egg. I will go along with you. I’ve been meaning to leave the village soon anyway, as I need to search for something.”
As Olbaas began speaking about his desires, one of the elders cried, “You intend to search for your father?!”
He had hit the nail on the head. But Olbaas had expected that answer and had another one prepared.
“No,” the king replied.
“Then what’re you looking for?” Makkaron asked.
“What does it matter to you?”
Despite the monarch’s wrathful glare, Makkaron maintained his composure and explained, “I’m the leader of Majestic. If you can’t convince me, I can’t allow you to join our party.”
“Are you really in a position to negotiate, Makkaron?” the slender-framed man inquired.
“Listen, Istahl. At this rate, we’re probably all gonna get our heads chopped off. But wouldn’t it be way more interesting if we had a Beast Prince and the king of the dark elves in our party?”
