SML Ch 10

Chapter 10

“Listen closely, you fools. That isn’t a plant meant to be ground up and slapped on wounds.”

“What? But that’s how we’ve always used it. If you grind it and apply it, the wound heals instantly.”

“Did it never occur to you that maybe healing too quickly was a sign something was off? Do you people not understand the concept of diluting potent herbs?”

“Dilute it? We tried dissolving it in water, but it stopped working.”

“Don’t use water—use monster blood! Put it in a wooden barrel filled with monster blood, cover it with cloth, and leave it in a shaded place for three days. Once the blood turns clear, you can toss the mandrake or use it as a side dish if you like. What matters is the blood—that’s what you apply to the wound. If you refine a single mandrake like that, you could treat ten grown men easily. That’s the best method when magical refinement isn’t an option!”

The young guards gawked at Reynald like he was speaking a foreign language. He felt a sharp ache throb behind his temples. It wasn’t that Reynald was especially knowledgeable—it just so happened that, during his days in a subjugation squad, he’d been lucky enough to hear all this from some villagers.

In other words, this was the kind of information even your average villager was expected to know.

The fact that these boys were hearing it for the first time was astonishing. At this point, Reynald was just glad they hadn’t tried selling the mandrake outside. If they had, some con artist would’ve surely swindled them out of it.

“…Are you serious?”

“Do you think I’d be joking in front of you lot?”

“Well, uh… wow.”

“In all my forty-seven years, I’ve met all sorts of people—but none as ignorant as you lot.”

Reynald let out a sigh that felt like it might collapse the ground beneath him. He could understand rural folk lacking in education to some extent, but thinking it was fine to grind up mandrake like any old herb and apply it to wounds? That was just something else. That herb could fetch an incredible price. Selling just one root could buy you a sack each of food, herbs, and bandages, with plenty left over.

Granted, Reynald didn’t expect any rich mage to be hanging around this backwater fief ready to buy a mandrake. But even if they couldn’t sell it, they should at least know how to use it efficiently. As Reynald clutched his pounding head, bright-eyed Lyndon—oblivious to the tension—asked a question.

“My lord, how do you know all this?”

“What do you mean, how? Anyway, the best way to use mandrake is to sell it to a magician. The whole point is to process it with magic into potions—that’s how you maximize its effect.”

“Magic, you say?”

“Yes. Of course, I’m not expecting to find a mage living in a place like this, but if you took it to a slightly bigger village—”

“Wait, you mean… like, a real magician?”

“Yes, a real magician.”

“But… aren’t magicians the kind of people who only live in the royal capital?”

Wait—what? Reynald blinked, wondering if he’d just misheard something. He hesitated, then glanced at the other young men’s expressions. They, too, were nodding solemnly at Lyndon’s words.

Come on. It’s a rural village, sure. And yeah, it’s been twenty years since the place had a lord, and it’s surrounded by wasteland—but still!

“You don’t have to go all the way to the capital… Finding a mage isn’t that difficult.”

“But…”

“In the capital, you’ll even find young mages-in-training running street stalls.”

“But…”

“Even outside the capital, bigger cities have mage guilds that sell herbs like mandrake.”

“But…”

“Even in smaller towns, you’ll usually find at least one mage who helps locals with things like medicine-making.”

“…You all… Don’t tell me none of you have ever seen a magician before?!”

Nod, nod. The boys all bobbed their heads in unison, and Reynald was struck speechless. He realized he’d vastly overestimated these youths.

He’d assumed that, despite being rural bumpkins, they at least knew the basics. But apparently not. These boys were so clueless that the idea of a magician existing outside the capital was new information to them. The thought of having to govern this territory with a bunch of kids who didn’t even know that much… It made Reynald feel like the world was going dark before his eyes.

Of course, that darkness was his alone. The young men, meanwhile, stared at him with sparkling eyes, filled with awe and wonder. Didn’t they feel any embarrassment about being treated like country bumpkins? While Reynald was still chewing on that bitter thought—

“My lord! My lord!”

“What is it now?”

“Did you really come from the capital?”

“Where else would I have come from if not the capital? …Wait, why do you look at me like that?”

“You came from the capital? Then you must know all about what it’s like there!”

“Yes. I lived there for nearly thirty years, so I’ve got a pretty good idea…”

“Whoa!”

Reynald blinked at their bizarre reaction. Whoa? What on earth was there to be amazed about? As he puzzled over their unexpected response, he finally realized—they were looking at him with admiration. And then—

“Tell us stories about the capital!”

“Yes, please! Tell us what it’s like!”

Like excited children, the young men bounced around him, begging for stories. Reynald distinctly remembered them saying the youngest—Volant—was nineteen. Yet here they were, eyes sparkling like kids at a puppet show. Watching them, Reynald thought with genuine astonishment:

“This really is a backwater village…”

Even among the many towns Reynald had visited as part of subjugation campaigns, few were this isolated. He glanced at the sky and saw that the sun still had a long way to go before it set enough to pull the mandrake.

Resigned, he started talking, feeling like a grandfather telling tales to his grandkids. (Not that he appreciated being treated like one.)

 

 

He tried to focus on mundane, everyday life out of fear that overly fantastical stories might not be believed. But to these wide-eyed youths, even that was enough to seem miraculous.

For instance, the very idea that the capital had no monsters whatsoever came as a shock. When Reynald explained that the capital wouldn’t be the capital if it was crawling with monsters, the boys finally nodded in understanding.

When he said that the streets lit up at night thanks to streetlamps, they tilted their heads in confusion. Their main concern? Wouldn’t that waste a lot of firewood? Honestly, that reaction was somewhat understandable. Given this wasteland, it was easy to see why firewood would be a precious commodity.

But often, they were amazed by things Reynald never would’ve thought noteworthy. At one point, he casually mentioned having fruit wine at cheap pubs when he had time to relax. The boys were astonished—not because of the wine, but because they had enough fruit to make alcohol. That alone was incredible to them.

Reynald could guess there weren’t many fruit trees around this wasteland. Still, he hadn’t expected them to react so strongly. Their surprise was almost endearing.

“Now that I think of it… I used to be the same way when I first stepped into the capital.”

Reynald let out a dry chuckle at the memory. He, too, had once been the clueless outsider, unaware of the things everyone else took for granted. There had been times when he’d been mocked for his ignorance, and moments when the king himself, wearing the most serious face, would share nonsense information just to mess with him.

“And now that’s all become a fond memory,” he thought. It made him all the more determined not to return to the capital—at least not until he’d given the king a good, long stretch of anxiety. No matter how barren this land was, he’d stick it out for as long as it took.

As they chatted and laughed together, the sun began to dip lower in the sky. It was almost time to pull the mandrake. They couldn’t do it while the sun was still up, but they couldn’t sit around forever either. Because—

“We’d better dig them up fast and get out of here.”

“Yes, if we get caught, it’ll be a nightmare. We’ve gotta dig and run.”

From beyond the quiet wasteland, where silence had ruled just minutes before, monsters were beginning to creep into view.