WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Dionysus
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◈ The Wizard's Memoir ◈
Chapter 29: Camp
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Ash was incredibly strong for a mule that size.
They fitted Ash with a mule saddle and attached their packs one by one. Even with over 160 pounds (about 73 kilograms) of luggage, Ash showed no sign of strain.
“Worth every coin!”
Olivia smiled in satisfaction. Their fine four-legged friend could carry as much as two and a half people. The rest of the party, however, looked miserable.
“Wasn't getting a mule supposed to make things easier?”
“This is strange... So strange...”
Etran and Dahlia muttered with slumped shoulders. Only Rolf, the former mercenary, adjusted their pack with a look that said they had expected this.
If they were traveling between villages or exploring somewhere nearby, they could leave everything to Ash. But their destination was Elf Garden, a two-day round trip.
There were no villages to use as a base, and they had no idea how long clearing the dungeon would take. They had to bring plenty of food, clothing, and fighting supplies. Having Ash simply meant they could bring more.
“We've spent a lot. We'll have to work hard and earn it back for a while.”
Equipment repairs, medicine, the mule, and its tack had cost them 9,700 dena, not counting the small silver pieces. Winter in the Northern Highlands was long and harsh, so they needed to build up their reserves as much as possible.
That was why, after only a short rest, they were heading toward a catacomb dungeon that was still being explored.
“Are we sure anyone's still exploring it? They said there's been no news for over six days.”
When the city gates had closed following the margrave's assassination, adventurers outside had been unable to enter. News from the various parties exploring dungeons had temporarily stopped as well.
Some parties had waited around at farmhouses outside the gates and entered as soon as they opened, but many others had left for different cities. News from those parties would take several more days to arrive. It was possible that the catacomb dungeon had already been cleared and word simply hadn't reached them yet.
“No news is good news!”
“In this line of work, it's usually bad news...”
As things stood, it was an all-or-nothing gamble. Either the previous parties had finished clearing the dungeon, or progress had stopped because no new parties had arrived.
If the decision had been Olivia's alone, caution would have won out, and they would have waited a few more days. Wasting the time and energy needed for the round trip was no small matter. But the tavern keeper had offered to pay them for making the journey and strongly urged them to leave as soon as possible. As branch head, the tavern keeper needed information, but there was more to it than that.
“I've got a bad feeling...”
An instinct built over many years in the business couldn't be ignored. It didn't feel as though the silence meant anything good.
Etran straightened up and looked around.
They had spent three quarters of the daylight hours walking east from Northern Ridge. With breaks only once every two hours, they had covered a full 18 miles (about 30 kilometers). The scenery had gradually changed as well. Low shrubs had begun appearing here and there, until suddenly a great oak stood in their path.
Etran adjusted their pack and took in the Northern Highlands.
An immense oak forest stretched before them. It had stood there since the distant dawn of time, long before humans first set foot in it.
“They say that long, long ago, before even the ancient kingdom, there were oak forests wherever you went.”
“Really?”
“Dragons flew through the skies, and the land was full of fairies.”
“You mean elves?”
“High Elves.”
No adventurer disliked a story about dragons and fairies. Olivia, Dahlia, and even the reserved Rolf quietly listened in. But the mage was no storyteller.
“I'm just saying there was a time like that.”
“...That's it?”
Etran scratched the back of their head awkwardly. The human and the halfling shook their heads. Even the greenest newcomer gave Etran a sideways look.
For a moment, they found themselves wishing they had a bard in the party. Like archaeologists, bards were rarely easy to recruit.
The sun had fully set.
According to the map, they were now in Elf Garden, but they hadn't found the adventurers' camp. It wasn't a settlement like a village, so finding it wouldn't help much with food or lodging anyway.
“It's been a while since we last camped out.”
A spring or stream would have been welcome, but it was too late to go searching. Still, they had brought plenty of waterskins. They couldn't wash, but they could cook.
“This is why adventurers are more useful than armies.”
“Pardon?”
“An army cannot move without a secure water source.”
To maintain their fighting strength, soldiers had to move in units of at least a platoon, about twenty people, and they also needed many warhorses. Without roads or villages, they often couldn't cover even ten miles a day.
Small groups of elite adventurers were therefore far better suited to clearing dungeons around the world. It was also one reason the Guild held influence in the royal capital and many other regions.
“It's mostly because people on a salary are lazy. Why hurry when you get paid on time no matter what? Only people who'll starve if they don't find treasure risk their lives rushing in.”
Olivia poured water into a pot and gulped down what remained.
The people weren't the only ones who needed a drink. They gave Ash some water too. They couldn't cook up any feed, so they wondered whether to offer the mule hardtack. But Ash began grazing on the surrounding grass without any help. Until winter came, at least, this was one animal they wouldn't have to worry about starving.
“Whose turn is it to cook?”
“Mine.”
Etran gathered firewood and lit a fire. The wood had only recently died and was still green, but that didn't matter. They made a flame and arranged three or four magic circles in a row. Crack-crack-crackle! The wood caught fire.
“That's our genius mage!”
“You don't have to be a genius to do this.”
“So you admit you're a genius?”
Etran gave a small sigh and made a cooking stand. Without wood, they would have stacked stones, but there was plenty of wood here, so they used branches. They set up a Y-shaped branch on either side and laid a straight one across the middle.
“You're really starting to look like an adventurer.”
Olivia and Dahlia stood with their arms folded, wearing the fond smiles of a mother and an older sister. When Rolf told them to stop standing around and help, they wandered over to unpack their bags.
Since it was the first day, they had plenty of ingredients. The season was right for fresh vegetables, too. They chopped up a chunk of salted mutton, a turnip, a carrot, and a little garlic chive, then added a single clove of expensive garlic.
“What a feast. A real feast.”
It was a luxury they could enjoy only on the first day. They ate the heavy, easily spoiled ingredients first. Later, they would be left with boiled hardtack porridge seasoned only with salt.
“It's ready! Everyone, come over!”
Etran tasted the food one last time and called the others over.
Everyone brought their own tableware. That rule existed because of a certain halfling, who had the smallest body and the largest bowl. The sight of Dahlia running over with what looked like a washbasin balanced on their head was truly beautiful.
“A catacomb dungeon means undead, right?”
It was a pleasant dinner, but they couldn't avoid talking about work. Etran stirred the chunks of food in their bowl and asked a question.
“Are they different from the undead a Sorcerer controls?”
“If it's mostly skeletons, it'll be much like last time. But we might run into troublesome monsters like mummies or draugr.”
For a warrior, a monster with muscles, even rotting ones, was harder to deal with than one made of nothing but bones. Even the feel of striking it was different. Dahlia banged their spoon against their bowl as they argued back. Tap! Tap!
“Ghosts are scarier than those!”
“Ghosts?”
“Monsters you can't stick a blade into.”
Dahlia shuddered, perhaps remembering an earlier encounter. Rolf put down their spoon and looked at the packs on Ash.
“Didn't we bring holy water?”
“Not much.”
Holy water itself wasn't expensive. Adding some water and salt to existing holy water and consecrating it made more holy water. It could literally be reproduced without limit. Carrying it, however, was another matter.
Liquid was heavy cargo for the space it occupied. Bringing enough drinking water was difficult enough. They couldn't haul around large amounts of salt water when they weren't even sure they would need it.
“Well, we've got Etran.”
“Can magic hurt ghosts?”
“Wouldn't it?”
Everyone turned toward the mage. Etran took the spoon out of their mouth and waved it like a conductor's baton.
“I'm not entirely sure myself, but if they belong to the astral realm, they should take damage. If they're connected to the mental world, they can't be unrelated to mana, which is based on mental strength. However, they'll probably ignore magic that's been converted into natural forces like fire or lightning. In those cases, the mana doesn't act directly, since it's consumed during the conversion. Again, I can't say for certain. I'd like to test it myself if I get the chance.”
After giving this earnest explanation, Etran looked at the others. None of them seemed to have understood. Suddenly, Etran missed the elf mage.
“...It works.”
“Of course it does!”
Only then did the weapon wielders look satisfied. This was one reason mages rarely remained adventurers for long.
They ate their fill and skipped washing the dishes on the grounds that they had no water to spare. They also left the campfire to burn itself out. It was a summer night, so a single blanket to keep off the dew was enough.
“By the way, do we know where the entrance to the catacombs is?”
“Took you long enough to ask.”
Olivia sighed. Etran had probably followed without complaint out of trust in their leader, but the mage really was hopeless.
“First, we need to find the adventurers' camp. We need a reference point to share distances and directions.”
“So that's why they keep the camp there?”
“It's not the only reason, but it's a big part of it. Let's see. Apparently, it's three miles south-southeast of the camp. They said it should be easy to find if we use a huge oak with its bark stripped off as a landmark.”
“That's quite detailed. Then there's nothing to worry abou... Rolf?”
Sensing something odd, Etran looked at the crossbow wielder on watch. Rolf's hands suddenly stopped trimming a quarrel, and their head slowly turned.
“Did you say an oak with its bark stripped off?”
“Hm? Yes. They didn't strip it themselves. They said it was already like that. No idea whether lightning struck it or a bear scratched its back against it. Why?”
“I saw it over there.”
Rolf pointed into the dark forest. Their voice was as deep and steady as ever, which somehow made it even more unsettling.
“...Where over there?”
“Not far. About seventy yards.”
With a little exaggeration, that was practically next door. Olivia sprang up and grabbed a weapon and shield.
“Why are you only telling us now?”
“You hadn't told me what the dungeon entrance looked like.”
“Aaagh! You're another Etran!”
“I was told I was just like the rest of you...”
“So we're all at the same level? Heh!”
“Don't laugh! This is an emergency!”
There was a rule that belonged near the very top of any list of adventuring basics: “Monsters come out of dungeons.”
“But nothing's happened so far.”
“What kind of dungeon is this?”
“Well, a catacomb dungeon...”
And much farther down that list was a section on undead. These graveyard monsters, returned from death, only became truly active at midnight.
“Uuuuuugh...”
“Graaaah...”
Etran sent up a Light Orb, revealing a crowd of figures hidden in the forest shadows. Their timing was incredible.
“Zombies!”
Etran had never seen these monsters before, but one thing was certain.
They weren't particularly fond of adventurers.
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