[137] Ancient Ruins (3)
"Those bastards—are they seriously laughing at us right now?"
"Enough. Don't turn your head. They're just drunk and acting like that."
Tess tapped Rian's leg to calm him. Tavern brawls among mercenaries were common, but given their line of work, these things rarely ended well.
"They still haven't reacted. It can't be that they didn't hear us. They're laughing at you, idiots."
"Check out that guy's sword. It's ridiculously huge, right? And the woman beside him isn't small either. I won't say where, but—hahaha!"
Rian clenched his fist. He could take insults aimed at himself, but mocking his friends was unforgivable.
Tess grabbed his wrist. If she hadn't, he looked ready to flip the table.
Shirone replayed what he'd seen while eating his noodles.
When they came in there had been four mercenaries at that table—three men and one woman. One looked to be an archer, and since the woman had no visible weapon she was likely a mage.
'An archer and a mage. That's a fairly solid group.'
The mercenaries' taunts went on and on.
"That blonde's just pretending to eat now? Come on, turn around for us once. We're ready to throw a bottle. I'm in a foul mood tonight—want some blood."
"Ugh, cut it out. Do you get off on teasing kids?"
The woman's reprimand had no real bite. She seemed to enjoy this kind of amusement more than outright taunting.
"Hey, little ones. Don't you have the guts to fight? Not even embarrassed in front of women? Bet those guys brag about how strong they are."
"Hello? Can you hear us? If you can, answer—or shall we come over?"
Rian couldn't contain his fury. He knew it was tactical, but he didn't want to endure such humiliation.
Still, he didn't move. His eyes met Shirone's, who watched him calmly.
'Shirone…'
Shirone, bound by his knight's oath, said nothing. If Rian couldn't swallow even this small humiliation, it would shame Shirone more than anyone.
'Right. This is part of the training. I came on this journey as a squire. This is a chance to test myself.'
Once he steeled himself, he found he could endure it. Rian reminded himself again of how hollow words could be.
After about ten minutes, the mercenaries prepared to leave. They thought they'd won—these kids made perfect tavern fodder.
"Heh, never seen such groveling scum."
"Whatever. They're weak; no wonder they were scared. Don't they look pitiful?"
"Lucky bastards. Must be nice to never get hit. Live like that forever, maybe you'll outlive us all."
They paid their tab and left. The tavern owner, who'd been pretending not to notice, rushed over to their table.
"You alright? Those awful rascals. To heap abuse on innocent kids—unforgivable."
"Do you know them?"
"They've been coming more often lately. They get drunk and harass folks who don't want to fight, like you. I'd tell you to stay away, but who knows what they'd do if told off. Still, you did right to hold back. Sometimes restraint is the victory."
Shirone's eyes lit up. If nothing important was in the ruins, a party that included a mage wouldn't have come looking for it.
Tess soothed Rian. The straightforward pair couldn't fake patience like Shirone; they were literally holding back by grit.
"Good job, Rian. I was worried you'd cause trouble."
"Yeah, it was risky. But we'll meet them again, won't we? That's why I held back."
"Right. Let's go."
Shirone stood. After paying and stepping outside, they saw the mercenaries walking toward the central temple.
Instead of following at ground level, Shirone's group chose a high vantage point. Most archers' schema builds focus on senses, so closing in would have risked detection.
From the fourth floor of the temple, Shirone watched. To his surprise, the group was young—none looked over thirty.
The lean, well-built swordsman seemed to be the leader. The iron sword at his hip was so distinctive that Tess could name the smith from its design alone.
Beside him stood a hulking man with a blunt weapon; in the rear followed a long-haired man and a robed woman.
"Two warriors—one a swordsman. One archer, one mage. That's their lineup. Even in a tourist spot they keep formation. They have field experience. Not tailing them was probably the right call."
The mercenaries walked to the terraced altar on the east side of the central temple. Shirone remembered that place—the locals guarding it had struck him as odd before.
One mercenary, likely the archer, mixed gestures with speech. He probably knew the Kergo language.
The local glanced around bluntly, clearly wary of prying eyes. Shirone's group recognized the moment and descended.
When the local activated the mechanism, a rectangular crack opened on the altar and sank inward. A thick stone door slid aside, revealing an entrance shrouded in a wall of darkness.
"Wait! We're coming in too!"
The mercenaries turned at the sound, their hardened expressions shifting from tension to annoyance. The kids who'd been teasing them at the tavern were rushing up.
"What the—when did you lot follow us?"
"Sir, can we come in with you?"
"Get lost! How did we find this place? Do you even know where this is?"
"Come on, don't be like that—"
As Shirone stepped forward to plead again, the leader drew his sword. He wasn't especially fast, but his motion was so practiced it had become second nature.
"You want to die? Think we're easy pickings? If you don't clear off, I'll cut all your throats right here."
Shirone didn't back down. He'd been unable to look in the tavern, but now he met the leader's gaze head-on. The contrast irritated the leader.
"Those brats—!"
The local guarding the altar spoke.
"Are they with you?"
The leader calmed and turned to the archer. Only the archer could translate.
"What's he saying?"
"He's asking if we're with you."
"Hmph! With us? Tell them to wait. We'll deal with them."
The archer relayed the leader's words. The local's eyes widened. As if insulted, he spoke in a haughty tone.
"Warriors do not fight anywhere. Those who stain this sacred altar with blood shall never set foot here."
The archer clicked his tongue and translated.
"You'd better back off. If you fight here, they won't let you in."
"Tch! Lucky kids. Twice their lives are spared."
The leader, annoyed, sheathed his sword and strode onto the altar. The others followed into the dark doorway.
Shirone's group lingered. If they'd gone in together there'd have been no trouble, but now the local's sharp gaze made them uneasy.
"If you want to be tested, come in. The angel's eye will watch over you."
"What did he say?"
"Who knows. Since we're here, sounds like he's telling us to enjoy ourselves. If he wanted us gone, he'd have closed the door."
Shirone exchanged glances with Amy and moved forward. The local showed no reaction. With that assurance, the four of them stepped into the black, yawning entrance.
Eight people vanished in an instant, but no tourist noticed.
Labyrinth Time-Space (1)
Inside the altar, Shirone took in the layout. Unlike outside, torches were lit and it wasn't pitch-black.
A square opening sank into the ground, and stairs ran down along the inner wall in a right-angled spiral.
Peering down, he saw the mercenary party already two turns into the spiral.
Shirone quickened his pace. There might be a second gate below; letting the mercenaries get too far ahead wouldn't be wise.
Before long, all eight descended together.
The leader was annoyed at the brats who'd freeloaded off the expensive information he'd paid for.
But completing their mission here was the priority, so they'd postpone any fight.
The archer, bringing up the rear, asked Shirone as he followed.
"Are you sane? What are a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears kids doing poking around a place like this?"
"Then why did you come here?"
"What—did you really follow in without knowing anything?"
"No. We don't know."
The archer stared in disbelief. It was possible—seeking a hidden door in a ruin was semi-common knowledge.
Everyone knew something lay beneath the ruins, but no one knew what. That was the limit of ordinary curiosity.
"Since you're already in, why don't you tell us? Why are you here?"
The archer hesitated. He'd run ragged through the information market to find the hidden door; the cipher had been high-grade and he'd paid a hefty twenty gold.
But now that they'd passed through the door, the information's monetary value was effectively gone.
Thinking that through, the archer brightened.
"How about this? Getting past a high-security cipher is worth maybe a hundred gold. So I'll sell you info—five gold per question. Deal?"
"Fine. We'll find out once we go down anyway."
Shirone's casual reply riled the archer. Beyond money, he hated being mocked by a kid.
'What a disrespectful brat—!'
At that moment the leader stopped. When the head halted, those behind naturally slowed.
"Actually, now that I think of it, that's not bad. Do you know how hard we worked to find this? You can't just take it for free. If you want to go down, you'll pay us."
Shirone glanced at Amy. She shrugged; he nodded and addressed the leader.
"In that case, we won't be going down. We'll stay up here while you handle whatever you came for."
"You bastards—!"
The leader bristled without fully realizing it.
They should have seen this back at the tavern. Thin, loudmouthed types like these were all talk.
"But if it's one gold per question, I'll trade."
"Huh? One gold?"
The leader's mind raced. They couldn't get full value back, but even a little coin was better than nothing.
"All right. One gold per question. Pay first."
Shirone rummaged in his pouch and produced one gold. They could have split off and scouted separately, but his friends trusted his judgment.
He thought the situation was worth one gold. They knew nothing of what lay below. If one gold bought them a heads-up, it wasn't a loss.
If there were dangers only the mercenaries knew—traps or ambushes—they'd be helpless if led into them. But with a description, they could roughly gauge the underground risks and difficulty.
"Why did you come here?"
Shirone asked directly, avoiding a broad question that would give them room to invent answers.