"Now. Let me sum up. The destination is Tintagel. The goal is seeing the dragon. The expected time required is about a month, correct?"
"That is so."
A knight of the Kingdom of Loegria, Sir Estan, nodded at Erman's confirmation. It was deflating that the reason Erman left the castle was merely a dragon, but that wasn't what mattered now.
For him it was an excuse to stay outside the castle, and a way to turn away from having to walk a tightrope between his father and the Queen.
"Knights like us aside, that's about how long it would take at an ordinary person's pace. Did you obtain a map?"
"No. I did not obtain a map."
"Then how did you calculate the time?"
"Albion told me so. I hear Albion is from Tintagel."
Erman proudly put Albion forward, but Albion stayed glued to Erman's side with a still spiteful face.
"Spare me the thanks. I've mapped out the shortest route too, so you just have to follow."
"......Commoner attendant or not, I didn't know you'd find it this hard to show manners."
"It's not that I find it hard to show manners. I just don't show them. Who are you to tell me to be polite or not? How old are you? A guy who never bent a knee to Erman even once and just squawked at him, and I don't get why he wants manners from me. You're a real joke of a guy."
The branch slipped from the hand of Estan, who'd been drawing the route to Tintagel on the dirt floor.
"What?"
"Pretending not to hear when you're not even deaf. Anyway, I know the way to Tintagel better than you. Just try yelling at Erman from now on. All dumb bulk, honestly."
"What?"
"More importantly, got money? If you brought travel money, hand it over. We're out of money and sleeping rough right now."
"What the."
"And that horse, do something about it unless you're riding it alone. Your saddle's basically labeled 'I'm a royal knight.' Are you trying to spread the word all over town that the prince ran away from home? Pidrin, go through that guy's pockets. Check how much he has and let's see if we can sleep at an inn tomorrow."
"Going through other people's pockets is my true calling."
"Come near me carelessly and I'll cut off your hand. My prince, where on earth did you meet these people?"
"It's a bit long to tell, but Albion said he'd make Daren drop dead with magic, so the two of them had no choice but."
"What? Magic? That commoner attendant was a magician? A guy who earned small change with parlor tricks and sleight of hand?"
"You bastard. Good thing you said that. Want to try dying too? Open your mouth, I'll make it so you can't open your eyes tomorrow."
When Albion sprang up, Erman and Daren stopped him from the side. Estan looked him up and down with eyes of disbelief.
"How could there be such a thing as magic, my prince? You mustn't be taken in by a commoner attendant's wagging tongue."
"But Albion really is a mage, um...... your name, Sir?"
"Estan, son of Eghon."
"Yes. Sir Estan. Albion is the real thing. I've seen many people too who came to the royal castle with all sorts of curious tricks to catch His Majesty's eye. Setting fire to powder mixed with metal, or making glittering fireworks."
So-called magicians had always existed since long ago. People who boasted they could wield mysterious powers.
But anyone with a little learning could easily see through the magicians' tricks, and the court too treated them much like clowns to liven up banquets.
"But Albion is the real thing. He's not flashy, and he has nothing to hide. He has never asked me for money or anything in return."
"However I look at it, he's a swindler."
Estan's disbelief ran especially deep. Erman thought for a moment, then with an "ah" pulled Daren over.
"Albion cast healing magic on Daren too. He said it speeds recovery. How do you feel now, Daren?"
"What? I don't feel any way in particular."
"Daren needs at least 3 more hours to get better, Erman. And it speeds up recovery, it doesn't heal completely. My power's still weak, so—"
"You see, my prince. It's clearly a lie. The magic you say you saw was also really a coincidence or had some device to it."
"Huh?"
"If not, why can't you cast magic right now? Why can't you heal that man? No doubt the most you can do is ease the pain with folk herbs."
The snort rang especially clear inside the cramped ruined house.
"There is no such thing as magic in this world. You say you can use a power only fairies hidden in the forest or demons can wield? You fooled the prince, but I won't fall for it. Understood? And yet you shamelessly follow the prince around. What a thick face you have."
Estan, seizing the moment to hammer away at Albion's dignity, looked so contemptuous that he almost seemed to be enjoying himself.
Not even realizing Erman was fretfully looking back and forth between him and Albion, Estan finally dealt the finishing blow.
"Well, I'll at least give you credit for struggling not to be thrown out of the royal castle. Though you committed the crime of deceiving royalty with those quick wits of yours, I'll keep my mouth shut until the day your head is cut off."
Swaggering shoulders. A tone as if generously bestowing a favor.
Albion slowly stood up. Thin ivory hair seemed to sway,
-WHAM!
Estan was suddenly lying down. A small foot was trampling on his chest. Seen from below in the dark, only the green eyes were vivid.
A finger flicked a small piece of willow, and a child's finger pointed at it as it spun like a coin in midair. The line of the fingertip passing through the piece to point at Estan was straight.
Pale green eyes, looking at him as at a worthless object, pierced Estan.
"<Satire>!"
With the cry, the willow's grain split. Before the crumbs even fell on Estan, something lodged deep in his chest.
***
「Casting a Druid's Curse on Estan, son of Eghon. All of the target's stats temporarily decrease. - Spirit Consumed: 20」
Satire. A separate skill existing apart from the Ogham skills manifested through letters.
If Ogham was a buffer-only skill concentrating buffs and debuffs, Satire was a curse skill that stood alone. An instant one, at that.
Of course, no dramatic event like an injury or accident befalls the cursed target right away. There is no visible blood. Instead, from the stats linked to basic life activity like Vitality and Spirit to stats made up of compound elements like Intelligence, Agility, Luck and Health, they all fall in friendly unison.
I looked down at the dumbfounded Estan for a moment, then slowly removed my foot. The piece of willow that served as the curse's medium had fallen on Estan's chest, and everyone had shut their mouths.
"What insolence was that just now."
"You seemed to want proof, so I used a little power. Whether I'm a swindler or something else. We'll see soon enough."
Estan groped at his chest and slowly sat up. Daren and Pidrin only exchanged looks, and Erman, pale-faced, tugged at my sleeve.
"Albion. That just now......"
"Shh."
In front of the frightened Erman, Estan, unable to freely show his shame and anger at being trampled by a child, began brushing off the crumbs on his clothes as if they were dirty.
But a moment later. The blood slowly left his face. Soon his breath quickened and Estan, gasping, began to break out in cold sweat.
"You, just now, to me, what......"
"Don't play it up. It's not that harsh a curse. I just messed up your condition a bit."
The Spirit consumed for the curse was 20. Albion's current maximum Spirit was 350.
How powerful was the curse? To be honest, I didn't know either. It wasn't a curse using an incantation, so wouldn't it be around a slight dizziness? If it's that much, well, I could teach Estan a lesson of sorts.
Thinking that, I just watched as Estan sweated buckets and hugged his stomach. Meanwhile Estan's body slowly tilted forward, and then.
-THUD.
"......Huh?"
Estan, having pitched forward, didn't so much as stir.
Albion gave a small cry and went to shake Estan, but Estan, eyes half rolled back, was foaming at the mouth.
"S, Sir Estan! Come to your senses!"
"Is he dead? He's dead? The knight? A man who was healthy just a moment ago?!"
"Aaaargh! Don't say he's dead! He's still breathing! Get up, mister knight! Hurry!"
Daren and Pidrin also scrambled over and began slapping Estan's cheeks to wake him.
In the chaos surrounding the fallen Estan, beside my stunned self, Titania, who'd come out since who knows when, fluttered over.
"Wh, what happened here?"
<Isn't it because you put a whole 20 Spirit into the curse? Let's see, let's see, Estan's base stats are— Vitality 150, Spirit 60, Health 60, Agility 50...... Wow, his Health got cut to 30 from the curse effect. Vitality dropped to 95 too. Albion, you really meant business, huh?>
"How serious is that?"
<Imagine someone beating you half to death. Wouldn't that make it easier to understand?>
Health is a stat calculated considering Vitality, Spirit, disease debuffs and so on. If a stat like that hits 0, you'd die, I guess. And me having cut that in half means.
I went silent for a moment.
"......Estan! Estaaaaan!!"
That night, without even thinking of logging out, I cast all sorts of protection and healing buffs on the fallen Estan over and over, and in one day I reached Ogham skill level 4, unlocking the incantation technique.
The awakened Estan hissed like a cat with its fur standing on end and tried to grab my collar, but barely calmed down with Erman's mediation.
In the end, only after I'd promised several times never to curse him again could we finally set out together on the road to Tintagel.