Chapter 14

No one can live their life in true solitude.

People are always connected to others somewhere. Even if that connection is so thin that one fails to notice it, it certainly exists. Therefore, no matter how much a person seeks isolation, as long as they intend to live, they must involve themselves with others. As those connections strengthen, they become an irreplaceable power that nurtures friendship, love, and bonds.

Even if separated by great distances, the ties between people do not easily sever.

That said, it is also human nature to doubt what cannot be seen.

Even when one believes everything is fine, there are moments when one becomes uncontrollably curious about what someone far away is doing.

And so, the time traces back to the day after Varna completed the Imperial Matches.

The Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights continued their activities every day even without Varna, and on that day, the Order’s daily routine proceeded as usual.

“Oh, here they come! The familiars!”

The man who had been waiting in a detached area of the camp since early morning—Knight Caliban—sharply spotted a brightly colored bird approaching from across the sky and set his morning coffee down on the table.

Caliban raised his left arm as if to welcome the bird fluttering in on the wind from afar.

His hand was equipped with a deer-hide gauntlet.

The bird hovered over the gauntlet before landing slowly, securing its feet firmly with its talons.

Caliban stroked its neck to reward its hard work and removed a message scroll sent from the Royal Capital from the cylinder attached to its leg.

“Good bird. Now then, I’ve officially received the report from the capital! Take a good rest before you head back, alright?”

『Roger that!』

As soon as the bird replied, it flapped its way toward the bird rest-house prepared in advance.

“Now then, I wonder how Senior’s performance went! Time to head back to the mess hall and check the contents!”

Checking the morning report first and delivering it to the Order’s frontline commander—that was Caliban’s daily routine and his assigned duty.

Caliban was a young knight of the Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights and a familiar-user. He was a commoner knight and a junior by one year to Varna, whose name “Beheader” echoed throughout the lands.

Magically Contracted Animals—“Familiars.”

To put it simply, they were a means of information transmission that replaced horse messengers. By using magic to grant intelligence to small, dull-witted animals, they were effectively brainwashed to follow orders submissively.

Parrots and parakeets, which can mimic human speech, were preferred choices for familiars and were sent flying through the sky as messengers. They were like an enhanced version of a carrier pigeon.

With these, even if scouts couldn’t make it back in time, the birds could transmit information rapidly.

Incidentally, animals that entered a magical contract saw an overall improvement in their biological capabilities; apparently, even a parrot or parakeet gained enough strength to pick a fight with a hawk. Caliban felt like he’d heard more detailed explanations than that, but he didn’t remember them well. By the way, the bird that had just arrived from the Royal Capital was a hill myna.

“Still, one really does get used to being a familiar-user. I thought only mages could give orders to familiars, but as long as I have this ‘Familiar’s Ring,’ even someone like me with no magical aptitude can send out instructions.”

Caliban muttered to himself while staring at the simple ring on his right middle finger.

A familiar only listens to the orders of the mage who performed the ritual, but with this ring—which holds a portion of that mage’s power—even a person without magical talent can communicate with them.

Commoners knew almost nothing of familiars, so he had been anxious about this encounter with the unknown, but now he was completely accustomed to life with them. Furthermore, the acquisition of intelligence gave the familiars individual personalities; while only Caliban could issue formal “commands,” instructions without the weight of magical compulsion were possible as long as a certain level of trust existed.

Deftly removing the gauntlet, Caliban picked up the cup he’d left on the table and departed with a cheerful stride, the report tucked into his tunic.

If he were to ask if his respected senior had performed well, the answer was surely a foregone conclusion. Even if he could guess the result, it was always more gratifying to confirm it in a tangible form.

Due to the “Anti-Monster Poison Dumpling Strategy” launched by Vice Commander Rony a few days ago, the Orc subjugation in the mountain shadows had yielded remarkable results.

While the subjugation had been expected to drag on for a very long period, the effects of the poison dumplings prepared by the researcher Nonoka appeared in just three days. Numerous Orcs that had died foaming at the mouth began to be discovered throughout the mountains. It was clear that the cause of death was the poison dumplings.

Omnivorous and ferocious, Orcs would eat a portion of captured prey on the spot; if there were no abnormalities in their bodies, they would carry it back to their nest.

If they were to die at this stage from eating mushrooms or poisonous insects, the Orcs would learn that the item was toxic. In other words, they performed taste-testing. Food judged to be safe would then be given preferentially to the colony boss and the females who bore offspring, with the leftovers distributed according to the caste order of the Orc colony.

Because the Orcs’ breeding pace was fast, the colony could afford for a few soldiers to die while foraging. Using this method, Orcs quickly distinguished between what was edible and what was not, greedily devouring food supplies.

The poison dumplings Nonoka devised utilized a slow-acting toxin that took advantage of this trait.

Once it accumulated in the body past a certain point, it would cause a sudden abnormality and lead to death. In other words, the abnormality could not be detected during the taste-testing stage.

The Orcs who were fine after eating the placed dumplings took them back to the nest and gave them to the most important members of the pack; it seemed that on this third day, the symptoms had finally manifested. While Orcs had a strong sense of camaraderie, they lacked a culture of mourning their dead, so they simply tossed the corpses out of the nest.

Most of the Orc corpses confirmed so far were females, children, and large, high-caste Orcs. Even if a colony boss died, there was always a replacement, but once the females and children were wiped out, the colony would collapse. All that remained was to sweep up the stragglers who became stray Orcs in the chaos, and the work in this region would be finished.

However, things in this world rarely go perfectly. This was a matter of both physical and mental complications.

“It doesn’t leave a good taste in my mouth. All this talk about poisoning food.”

“Ah, do you feel that way too, Chef?”

“Of course I do! Cooking isn’t meant for killing living things, is it? No matter if the opponent is a wild animal, adding ‘extra ingredients’ to something made with such care… it’s enough to bring a curse from the Goddess of the Kitchen!!”

Tamae, who was stirring a giant pot to prepare breakfast for the Order members, barked irritably at the cooking squad.

Since the start of the operation, her mood had been trending slightly downward.

A chef’s true purpose is to provide hospitality through food. Poisoned cooking was out of the question.

“They’ve got some nerve, picking a strategy that puts me in a foul mood… they’d better remember this!”

“Is that directed at Rony-san, who gave the order? Or Nonoka-san, who proposed it…?”

“At that bearded old geezer Luger who rushed them both, obviously!!”

“True! It’s pretty much all that beard’s fault, isn’t it!”

Rony had no choice as Vice Commander, and Nonoka felt compelled to suggest any method that would prevent casualties among their allies. In other words, the one at fault was Commander Luger and his catfish-like beard. Since the person forced to make the poison dumplings to kill the Orcs said so, this was the unanimous opinion of the cooking squad.

Just then, Caliban returned with the report in hand.

“Oh, young Caliban. You’re early again today. How’s the report? Are Varna-boy and the others doing well?”

“I figured it wouldn’t be any fun if I just told you, so I haven’t checked it yet, Chef Tamae. Can I get another cup of coffee?”

“Perfect timing, I’ve just finished most of the prep. Don’t just take coffee—eat some breakfast!”

In an instant, a tray with breakfast was prepared for Caliban, and a low-budget blend made from dandelions and acorns was poured into the cup he held.

In this country, coffee beans were 100% imported. There was no way they had the money to buy actual beans.

“Now then, let’s see… Whoa! The front page is covered with news of our victory and articles about Varna-senior! This year, he snapped the ‘Sword God’s’ blade for a one-hit victory! ‘The Seeker of Strength, Varna: Sword God No Longer in His Sight’!!”

“He really went wild again this year, that boy. Well, I never liked that Cushu fellow anyway, so a bit more of a beating would’ve been fine.”

The Chef muttered nostalgically as she peered at the report from behind him.

“I wonder if the boy is getting some proper rest in the capital right now… He’s a kid who overworks himself, so I worry.”

“Ahaha, you sound like his mother, Chef?”

“Everyone who eats my food in this Knighthood is like a child of mine.”

“As expected of one of the Three Great Mother Goddesses… you’ve got a big heart. But Senior is actually pretty laid-back when he’s off duty, so I think he’ll be fine.”

Incidentally, around this time, Varna had been discovered fast asleep at the training ground alongside his two best friends and was currently sleeping like a log in a bed in the royal guest room. One could say both of their predictions were technically correct.

“Once I’m done eating, I’ll go deliver the good news to Vice Commander Rony.”

“Before that, show it to the others who are waking up hungry. That idiot Rock has been itching to know the results since he bet on our victory in the pool three months ago. Honestly, that man is such a scoundrel… No-good Rock.”

“Tell me about it. Just the other day, since he was on rear-guard standby, he got drunk and caused trouble for everyone… Oh, looks like the others are waking up.”

Noticing the approaching footsteps, the two looked up just as the first wave of knights arrived for breakfast.

“Good morning! Is the food ready, Chef!”

“Hey, Caliban! Let’s see that report!”

“How was the Imperial Match?! Did we win?! We won, right?! That means we’re celebrating tonight, right?!”

“You just want an excuse to drink! I’ve got my fortune riding on this, not just the booze!?”

“Idiot, your ‘fortune’ always disappears into bar tabs anyway!”

“Forget that, just give us the result! Whether our pay goes up is a life-or-death matter for us!!”

“Um, excuse me!! That is… is Senior Varna hurt?! I’m only worried about that…!”

In an instant, the mess hall was packed with people clamoring for the results of the Imperial Matches. It was filled with the bustle of men proudly reading the report aloud, those listening intently, and knights enjoying their meal—which tasted better than usual thanks to the welcome news—as if it were a side dish.

This was the kingdom’s front line, the ‘Royal Foreign Hazardous Species Countermeasures Knights.’

Within this liveliness, reminiscent of a commoner’s cafeteria rather than a formal Knight Order, lay the strength of this group.

‘Now then, I wonder what’ll be in the evening report? This is my biggest highlight every single day!’

Caliban, at least, quite liked his position as a familiar-user, allowing him to play a part in this noisy, vibrant atmosphere.