Under the Oak Tree - Chapter 210

Chapter 210: Side Story Chapter 16

In the ensuing awkward silence, Riftan could feel his ears burning as though he had revealed something shameful.

He kicked the ground for no particular reason and said brusquely, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“N-No!” Ruth said hastily. “I’d be happy to. It’s not that difficult of a spell.”

Riftan detected a hint of elation in the mage’s voice.

“It certainly isn’t easy to sleep in a cave after all. Please, lie down. Allow me to cast you a wonderful illusion.”

The mage talked as if he were pacifying a disgruntled child. Though this greatly peeved Riftan, his desire for rest was stronger. He obediently lay on the cave floor. Gravel dug into his back, and the peculiar, musty air of the cave tickled his throat with each inhale. Despite this, he was too exhausted to feel discomfort. He placed his bag under his head and hugged his robe about him.

Ruth bent down and hovered a hand over Riftan’s eyes. “Try to summon the jolliest memory to your mind.”

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Soon, white light spilled from the mage’s pale fingertips, and the cave faded away.

A soft, floral-scented breeze brushed past Riftan’s hair. Moments later, a clear summer’s day came into focus. Rays of light filtered through leaves that gleamed like emeralds above him. Something told him that following this path would lead to the garden in full bloom.

His bones sang with a strange sense of relief and longing as he sat in the shade of a tree and watched the little girl. She had her arms around the black hound and was trying to burrow her face into the dog’s soft fur.

His chest constricted at the sight. He, too, had once yearned to be held by someone, their gentle arms around him a warm embrace.

It’s just an illusion.

Riftan silently murmured the thought. Though he knew it was just a trick of magic, the scene still tugged at his heartstrings and refused to release him from its enthralling grip. In the past, simply looking at her could banish all of his anguish. He realized it was still true even now.

The tranquil scene began to dissipate like fog. Before long, he was back in his harsh reality. Finding himself in the cold, pitch-black cave once more, Riftan sighed despondently.

“Up already?” Ruth said, letting out a long yawn.

The mage had been dozing while crouched next to him.

Riftan sat up silently. In the end, the illusion spell was only a figment of his imagination. It could do no more than offer a moment of solace. Casting off the empty feeling in his chest, Riftan urged Ruth to continue their escape out of the cave. The bright dawn stung his eyes when they broke free.

He supported the exhausted mage as they descended the mountain. When they rejoined the other mercenaries and briefed them on the incident, the men promptly formed a search party to look for survivors. They dug through the rubble for half a day. Miraculously, eight had managed to survive, while the bodies of the not-so-lucky were discovered among the debris.

As men in this line of work, everyone was used to such accidents, and no one acted particularly shocked. The clerics took care of the dead while Riftan transported the wounded to the barracks. Once the injured were safely moved, he was finally able to get proper rest.

The monster raid continued for another two weeks despite the accident. Once the contract ended, the independent mercenaries continued to wander from kingdom to kingdom in search of conflicts or monster raids. Meanwhile, the Blackhorn Dragons went north. When they did not find any more work in Livadon, they shifted camp to Balto, where they promptly began operations.

Riftan was not pleased by the move. The Orthodox Church held even more sway here than in Livadon or Wedon. Since northerners had a deep-seated hatred for outsiders, the only solo commissions Riftan managed to score were of the extremely dangerous variety most mercenaries avoided.

At first, he accepted jobs escorting merchants or nobles, but he soon grew tired of his clientele’s contemptuous attitudes. The looks they gave him made it clear they considered him a barbarian. In the end, he stopped taking such work altogether.

Word of his skill in hunting dragon subspecies had spread by that point, which fortunately brought in countless commissions for monster raids. Though all the job offers were high-risk, often requiring him to put his life on the line, he readily took them as long as they paid enough.

In this way, he gained renown and amassed a veritable mountain of gold. Yet, the thought still remained – what good was all this fame and wealth when he was on a path that could end with him dead at any moment?

Most of the mercenaries harbored a secret desire for him to stop returning alive. Even Samon, who had worked so hard to chummy up to him in the past, bluntly asked where he kept his fortune. The only way he could deal with it was by appearing unfazed and giving everyone the cold shoulder. Inwardly, he was growing sick of it all. The disdainful gazes and hostility gave him no room to relax, and he found himself at his limits.

He was more exhausted than he had ever been. Occasionally, he would ask Ruth to cast the illusion spell on him. Despite the emptiness that washed over him whenever the image dissolved, the small escape from reality was the only time he was able to unwind. More and more, the girl in his memories became even more romanticized, and his fondness for her grew.

He saw her in his mind’s eye: soft hair that rippled like clouds, a small, pale face, and clear eyes that sparkled like a lake in winter. Whenever he thought of her, his heart warmed as though he had spotted a tiny woodland creature. Even his permanent scowl would flicker into a small smile.

At times, a powerful yearning would barrel into him. What was she doing now? He wondered how tall she had grown or if she ever got into trouble again for roaming the forest alone. He wanted to know if she still took strolls around her garden wearing that forlorn expression.

Such thoughts always made him scoff. It was not his place to worry about someone in her station. If anyone were to see into his head, they would surely keel over in laughter. Still, despite the folly, he could not stop thinking about her.

Ruth eagerly obliged him at first. As his requests grew increasingly frequent, however, the mage cautiously extended a warning.

“You shouldn’t rely too much on it. This spell’s original purpose was to confuse the enemy. Being in it too often will do you no good.”

“If it’s money you want, just name your price,” Riftan said curtly.

Ruth frowned, looking offended. “You know that’s not what I mean. I’m concerned for your wellbeing.”

“I don’t need your concern! It’s just an hour or two of an illusion. What could it possibly do to me?”

“The more beautiful the image, the more unbearable your reality becomes.”

Riftan held his tongue. The mage was right. Real life was becoming increasingly painful, and the desire to never wake from his fake reality was only growing more acute.

As though reading his thoughts, Ruth breathed a small sigh. “I’m afraid I obliged your requests too readily. I did not think someone as strong-willed as you would resort to relying on such magic.”

“Goddammit, so what if I come to despise my reality? My life couldn’t be more wretched than it already is!”

“You feel that way because you are comparing your reality to the illusion.” The mage defiantly raised his chin. “In any case, I will no longer be casting the spell on you. I suggest you seek comfort in the real world rather than cling to a mirage. You really must work on your social skills, you know.”

With that, the mage shut his room door in Riftan’s face.

He angrily kicked the doorpost. Though his boot knocked a hole in the wood, the only reaction it elicited was a snort from inside the room. He trudged back to his own quarters and lay on the cold bed.

All he could think about was the gilded scene in his mind’s eye. He scrubbed his face. Indeed, as the mage had said, he may have become too reliant on the spell. He was disappointed in himself for being so attached to the memory of his youth.

Yet, he did not know how else to soothe his weary heart. After gazing up at the pale crescent moon through the window, he listlessly closed his eyes.

***

“Must you really leave?”

Riftan looked up from the bag he was packing and turned to face the speaker. Gale, the captain of the Blackhorn Dragons, leaned against the doorway with an irritable look on his face.

“Is this how you repay the man who’s looked after you all this time?”

“I don’t recall you ever looking after me,” Riftan retorted acerbically, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Gale’s bushy black beard shook as he snorted loudly. “I fed and housed a good-for-nothing brat for years, and this is how the ingrate speaks to me.”

Riftan scoffed. Ever since he had joined the mercenary company, the man had frequently used him as bait to lure monsters. He had never in his life received anything for free.

“I owe you nothing. Every drop of water I drank, I earned for myself. I dare you to disagree.”

“Arrogant brat,” Gale grumbled, unable to deny Riftan’s statement. He slammed a fist against the wall. “A civil war is about to break out in the east, and you’re depriving me of one of my best men!”

“That’s none of my concern.”

Undeterred by Riftan’s brusque response, Gale pressed on.

“Come now, why don’t you reconsider? If you manage to make a name for yourself during the war, you might be rewarded with land in Balto. I, for one, will pay you handsomely if you do your part well. I was going to name you vice-captain when you turned twenty anyway. And once we’re assimilated into Balto’s army, you’ll be made commander of your own unit.”

Riftan’s lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Do you think me a fool? No matter how many years I spend making a name for myself in this kingdom, they’ll still see me as a mongrel marred with pagan blood. I’m afraid I no longer want to waste time and effort reaching for something unattainable.”

Gale’s bearded cheek quivered as though he were about to snap back. Instead, he spun on his heels.

“Fine! I won’t try to stop you any longer. Go wherever it is you want to go, brat. I doubt you’ll last much longer with the way you live, but I’ll pray your head remains intact until you’ve crossed the border. You’d be hell to deal with as a ghoul.”

With those parting words, Gale stormed out of the room. Riftan packed his remaining equipment with an impassive expression and left the inn through the back door.

Outside, the earth was frozen and silvery. The northwestern part of Balto was covered in snow and frost all year round, so much so that it astounded Riftan that people were able to settle and eke out a living in such a harsh environment. Though there was a vast meadow further east, even that was buried under white snow during Paxias. Furthermore, when the nomads moved south with their horses and sheep, the region became a no-man’s-land teeming with monsters.

Riftan swept his gaze over the frozen ground for the last time before hailing a baggage wagon. There was no one in the company he wanted to bid farewell to.

Feeling lighter, he plopped down on a bale of straw. He intended to go south. Anywhere would be better than this place. Just as he was giving the wagon driver the signal to leave, someone hopped into the compartment. He scowled menacingly as Ruth made himself comfortable across from him.