IBTRFL Chapter 33

Fons sat, chewing at the bit of bread Aer had passed him, staring into blank dark.

All he could make out in the murky black was footsteps that sounded, somehow, weirdly excited, and the occasional rustle of something being shuffled around.

What in the world was going on. Curiosity crept up, whispering at him to pull the cloth off his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

The warning that he might go blind had his good sense in a tight grip.

Fons called out to Aer, timid.

"Sis Rana, um—"

"Hold on, wait!"

The hands sweeping through the goods sped up. Not a single crumb of a small biscuit escaped her—thorough, almost impressively so.

Bright with purple delight, her eyes swept over the storeroom. What had been a room packed floor to ceiling with food didn't have so much as a speck of dust left in it—like it had been hit by a raid of thieves.

The other rooms fared no better. Oil, weapons, clothes—anything that could fit in her hands had been crammed in, jammed, shoved wherever it'd fit.

Humming a little tune, Aer headed for the last room. One neat kick, and the door shattered like a thin sheet of early-spring ice.

The room inside had a distinctly savage sort of decor. Just look at the leather rug on the floor—still fitted out with a monster's head, whole.

The taste was beyond her, but what filled the room she understood just fine.

Ol' man Valor, you absolute legend. Aer patted her pocket, pleased, and set about looting the room in earnest.

Fitting for a bandit knight's room, other weapons and valuables came tumbling out. Good-quality salt and expensive sugar, a small box of gold coins and jewels.

"How much did you bleed out of people to get all this?"

Aer muttered, sick of it. Not that it stopped every last bit of it from heading straight into her own pocket.

Her gaze, sharp as something hunting prey, swept the room again. Aside from a few useless pieces of furniture, there wasn't a single valuable thing left.

This one might be worth something too. A baursa pelt—a fairly common bear-like monster found all over the continent. It was thick and sturdy hide made it popular with buyers.

Old as it was, a piece this size ought to fetch a couple of silvers at least.

She crouched down and lifted the edge of the rug, and—

"Hm?"

—a neat, square-cut groove hidden beneath it came into view.

However you looked at it, this was clearly a secret compartment. Swallowing a laugh, Aer gripped the handle and hauled up with everything she had.

Holding even her breath as she strained, the heavy lid finally gave, and the hidden space beneath opened up.

Inside sat a small chest and something covered in cloth, arranged neatly.

Aer shook out her reddened hands a few times and pulled the cloth away. A single oak cask, big enough to hold two or three cats, sat there on its own.

"Wine."

A strange thrill ran up her spine. She bent low and put her nose near the stopper.

Beneath the oak's distinctive scent, something rich and deep. A smell she'd caught once, somewhere, in a monastery.

Water of life, distilled through a copper still. This was a rare, precious liquor most ordinary people would never so much as lay eyes on.

"……."

How long have I wanted this. How long. Aer clenched a fist, exultant.

She handled the cask with the care of someone cradling a newborn.

"R-Rana!"

A plaintive call came from behind just then.

"Coming!"

Aer shoved the small chest into her pocket and ran to Fons. Sensing her approach, Fons flinched, shoulders trembling.

"Did I make you wait? Come on, let's go."

"Okay."

Aer took Fons's hand and pulled him gently to his feet. His thin legs shook, pitiful, like a newly hatched chick's.

Fons wobbled, trying to find his balance, and then collapsed in a heap, like some tragic heroine.

"S-sorry. My legs won't hold me up."

"……Can't be helped. Can you manage on my back?"

"M-maybe?"

Aer bent her knees and lowered herself. Fons hesitated, then climbed on carefully.

His weight on her back was light as down, and the arms around her shoulders felt endlessly unsteady.

If she sped up, Fons would go flying off like a scrap of paper—she could picture it too vividly.

"Bear with it if it's uncomfortable."

"Huh? Okay."

Aer picked up a length of rope lying on the ground and tied herself and Fons together.

Wrapped a few times around, there was no need to worry about him slipping off now.

"All right. We're heading out."

Fons nodded, timid. Aer bore up the boy's legs with both hands and bolted out of the cave.

"You okay?"

"……Y-yeah, maybe!"

"Do you remember where the village is?"

"Th-there's water running by it! And chestnut trees—lots of chestnut trees!"

"Is that so."

Aer frowned and headed for higher ground. The mountain terrain ran wide and varied, waterfalls and valleys scattered here and there.

Only, oak trees had claimed this mountain, so other kinds were relatively rare. Circle around until she found a stand of chestnuts, and she should be able to find Fons's village.

"Um—um, Sis Rana."

"Yeah?"

"So, actually, there won't be anyone at the village even if we go there."

"……What do you mean by that?"

Aer stopped short. Fons stammered his way through an answer.

"That's……, well……, actually right now nobody can go into the village. A bad monster showed up and it's living in an abandoned cave in the village."

"……Can you tell me more about it?"

"It—it hasn't even been a month, I think. All of a sudden a really big monster showed up and wrecked the village. The grown-ups and my friends all ran away together, and we've been drifting through the woods ever since. Then I got too hungry and snuck out without the grown-ups knowing……."

"Did you see the monster yourself?"

Fons shook his head, dejected.

"I woke up and we'd already left the village. Mom told me about it later, so I don't really know much."

"…….."

Aer let out a low groan. Her plan had been to bring Fons home and then go hunt the monster. But she hadn't expected the monster to have gone after a runaway village on top of the bandits.

This whole thing was about to get a lot more tangled than she'd expected.

"So you're saying the villagers are drifting around somewhere right now?"

"Y-yeah."

"And nobody knows where."

"Yeah……."

Aer's brow creased, and she pressed a hand to her forehead. Looking for people in this dense a forest.

"No."

"Rana?"

"We'll find them somehow."

In her hazy, unfocused eyes, the sun sat low, sinking toward the horizon.

A haggard-looking woman paced restlessly around the clearing. Her sturdy teeth worried at a fingernail, over and over.

Blood ran from a nail torn away without mercy, but the owner of that hand didn't seem to feel it at all.

The ragged people around her watched, pitying. Not one of them scolded her or told her to stop—she was clearly out of her mind with worry.

They'd all been worn down without end by hunger and this harsh place, and they understood exactly how it felt to have your heart burning like that.

Just then, the brush began to stir. Every eye—the woman's included—turned toward it.

Out of the underbrush walked three relatively sturdy-looking men.

From wherever she found the strength, the woman shot forward like an arrow and seized one man's forearm. Her fingers, gone cold with dried blood, trembled, pitiful.

"F-Fons, my son—did you f-find him?"

The man opened his mouth to say something, then, wordless, closed it again and looked away.

The woman turned a desperate face to the others behind him. But they only gave her the same reaction.

Her slender shoulders shook, violent. Pale as flour, the woman clutched her chest and tore out one raw, ragged breath.

Then her eyes rolled back, and she dropped, limp, like something with the strings cut. Tears ran down cheeks damp with cold sweat.

"Mela!"

The man caught her by the waist as she fell. Others nearby scrambled up and ran toward her.

They shook her shoulders, called her name—nothing.

"Mela, Mela, please, come back to us."

"Someone, quick! A blanket, anything!"

An old man, who'd been sitting quietly on a rock, rose without a word. He walked over to the man staring at Mela with a face full of self-blame.

"Didn't find him."

"……No, sir."

The man answered, voice heavy. The old man's dark brown eyes took in the fallen Mela.

A mother, child lost. A parent, cub sent off to die. At a tragedy that never should have repeated itself, the old man finally had to look away.

The man watched him for a moment, then spoke, hesitant.

"Sir."

"……What is it."

"It's been a week now since Fons went missing. We haven't found a single trace this whole time. It might be time to—"

The old man cut him off.

"One more day. Just one more day of searching, that's all I ask."

"Sir……"

"For an old man's sake, if nothing else."

A gruff voice. But something in it carried an unmistakable, desperate weight.

The man studied the old man's face, then, after a moment, nodded.

"Thank you."

The old man patted the man's shoulder and walked on, unsteady.

'How much longer can we hold out.'

In those clouded brown eyes, the sight of gaunt, skeletal people. Every one of them, hungry, filthy, exhausted.

A mother a month into nursing had no milk left to give, and the children didn't even have the strength left to whine. Even the adults were nothing but drowning in endless despair.

Young and old, everyone, slowly dying. Before much longer, this place would become a mass grave that couldn't even leave behind a scream.

"……How much more cruel can this get."

The old man let the bitter lament fall just as it happened.

The brush shook violently, and a person burst out from within.

A hood hid the face, but there was no mistaking it—someone from outside, never once seen in this village.

The frozen villagers scrambled up, late. They grabbed whatever they'd carried out in the flight—ladles, kitchen knives—and pointed them at the newcomer.

Her stick-thin limbs shook and shook—hardly much of a threat.

A strange standoff held.

The outsider looked over the ones aiming weapons at her, then tilted their head slightly and spoke.

"Guess I found 'em."