Under the noonday sun, the workers on the docks bustled about hauling all manner of cargo, looking unusually busy.
Much of this shipment was vegetables and fruit, and in order to keep it fresh by the time it reached the market, the laborers shuttled in and out of the hold without pause.
The makeshift gangplanks had already bent out of shape, as though they were about to snap at any moment in protest.
To avoid the direct glare of the sun, Lara sat on a cargo crate beside the hold’s doorway, enjoying the shade the ship’s hull offered her.
Uncle Haiven ran a one-man operation dealing in river-caught fish, and since the village wasn’t far from the port, his cargo was unusually small — just the few crates of live fish that Lara was sitting on.
She’d finished unloading them early, and was now simply waiting for Uncle Haiven to bring around a horse-drawn cart to haul them off to the market.
“Ah, found you at last.” Nina poked her head up out of the cargo hold, cheeks puffed out, a bowl of fish soup cradled in her hands.
She’d gone from the kitchen to the rest cabin and then on to the deck and the hold, and hadn’t caught sight of Lara anywhere — luckily she hadn’t wandered far.
“Here.
You haven’t had anything to eat all day, right?
Where’s Dad?
How come I don’t see him?” Lara lifted her chin to direct Nina’s gaze forward.
Uncle Haiven had already come around the corner of the street with a horse and cart in tow.
She took the bowl of fish soup from Nina’s hand and sipped at it in small mouthfuls.
It seemed Lara’s little side job was about to come to an end.
Watching the cart being led their way, Nina realized that she was about to be separated from Lara.
After these last few days of being so close to her, the moment of parting felt unbearably hard.
“So?
What are you going to do after this?
Are you still set on heading to the Central Nations?” Nina told herself, in her heart, that there would surely be more chances to meet — that she shouldn’t get all worked up about it.
But the redness around her eyes and the tremble in her voice couldn’t be faked.
Lara looked at this child who was, in reality, nearly ten years younger than herself, her chest filling with sentiment.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t considered just settling down on the Southern Continent — after all, even with the war going on, it would have a hard time reaching the port here.
But there’s no such thing as a banquet that never ends, and in a medieval world like this one, lacking the means to protect yourself meant that accidents could strike at any time.
What had happened with Aura and the cargo ship had taught her that lesson well enough.
Leaving here for the Central Nations to study magic was the best of all possible choices.
Once she’d made a name for herself, it wouldn’t be impossible to bring Nina and the others over so they could live somewhere safer.
The thought of it made Lara reach out and rumple Nina’s hair fiercely with her hand.
“What are you doing?!” The moment Nina turned her head, she found Lara looking at her with the most tender, doting expression.
They were practically the same age — wasn’t this just treating her like a little kid?
Feeling thoroughly belittled, Nina puffed up into a pufferfish all over again.
Lara laughed a couple of times.
“It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.
Once I’ve gotten settled over there, I’ll bring you all along to the Central Nations.
Mm — together.” Haiven brought the cart up to where the two girls were standing — one smiling and ruffling the other’s hair, the other red-eyed and sulking.
How could he fail to know what had happened?
But the affairs of children were best left to the children to sort out themselves.
As long as their hearts were in the right place, he would support them no matter what.
“Come on, let’s get this cargo dealt with.
The faster we move, the better the price.” With that he began loading the cargo onto the cart.
Lara stopped teasing Nina too, climbed down from the crates, and pitched in to help.
By the time the cargo had been dealt with, it was already evening.
The three of them found a cheap inn and settled in for the night.
After the split, Lara’s take came to eighty-nine silver coins and five copper.
Inside her room, Lara sat on the bed and summoned 0083.
“Well?
See anyone who looked like a mage?” Ever since they’d left the docks, Lara had been having 0083 appraise every single person she crossed paths with inside the port, trying to pick out someone who could be of use to her path of growth.
“A total of 364 individuals were encountered at the port today, Master.
Of these, three possessed mana exceeding one hundred.
The highest mana value reached 507.” 0083 streamed out the day’s data without pause, and finally four panels popped up in front of Lara, complete with the time, location, and physical appearance of each encounter.
As for those three people, they were, roughly: the owner of a magical-items shop, an apprentice at the same magical-items shop, and a guest retainer of the port lord.
The ratio was even lower than she’d imagined — which meant that becoming a magic user was extraordinarily difficult.
So far Lara had no way of using her abilities on her own, and could only rely on 0083 to use them for her.
She couldn’t even sense the presence of mana herself, which made finding someone who could lead her through the doorway absolutely vital.
Lara needed a guide.
Among the panels 0083 had laid out, the shop owner’s mana was substantially higher than that of the other two — making him the optimal choice.
Lying on the bed, Lara drifted off to sleep amid her thoughts.
Early morning.
The Silver Spear Tavern.
Mist condensed into dewdrops in the dawn light, rolling along the veins of the leaves to gather at the rims of the flowerpots.
A middle-aged woman was sweeping the cobblestone street out front, brushing aside the fallen petals at her door before wiping the sweat from her brow.
When she looked up, she saw a dark-haired little girl walking toward her.
“Excuse me — is the Silver Spear Tavern around here somewhere?
I’m supposed to meet someone, but I don’t know exactly where it is.” To keep from being late, Lara had set out a full hour ahead of time.
The sky was only just beginning to lighten, and not knowing the way, she’d had to ask as she went.
Only a few people were out on the streets, most of them local shopkeepers, and with their warm-hearted directions Lara had managed to find the general area.
The woman gave a helpless smile and lifted her hand to point at the sign on the storefront behind her.
The two characters for “Silver Spear” were written across it — from the angle Lara had been approaching from, she just hadn’t been able to see it.
“You look a bit unfamiliar — you’re not from around here, are you?
I’m the lady of the house.
The tavern doesn’t open in the morning.
I’d suggest the two of you find somewhere else to meet.” The Silver Spear Tavern was primarily a place where mercenaries gathered to drink and eat.
Its usual business hours ran late, and in the mornings — in order to better prepare the ingredients for the evening’s service — it didn’t accept any customers at all.
This was something every local knew.
But the moment the proprietress caught sight of Lara’s jet-black hair, she got a rough sense of the situation.
Although she had no idea why an outsider would arrange to meet at her tavern, she’d given Lara a kindly heads-up all the same.
Lara clearly figured that Wendell had just named some random spot to meet, so she explained the situation to the proprietress.
When the proprietress heard that it was Wendell who’d set up the meeting, an “Ah, so that’s how it is” look crossed her face, and she turned and hollered into the tavern.
“Hey, old man — your appointment’s here to see you.” Only then did Lara realize that this tavern was Wendell’s own.
After yesterday’s escort mission had wrapped up, Wendell had brought the company back to the tavern to celebrate a job well done.
When he came down from the tavern’s second floor, he still reeked of liquor and looked like he hadn’t quite woken up yet.
“Ah, the young — always up so early.” Wendell wore a smile.
In his eyes Lara was a young cub still crying to be fed, and with a child this eager to learn he always had patience to spare — even harboring, without quite realizing it, a flicker of expectation.
With practiced ease he pulled a mug of beer from behind the counter and set it down in front of himself, picked it up and took a long, hard pull from it, then took out a cup of milk and set it down in front of Lara.
“Little kids should drink this — helps you grow.
Since you chose to come to the tavern for our meeting, that means you’ve made up your mind.
Right?” Lara didn’t believe anyone could be so selfless about helping another person.
She watched Wendell, trying to read his thoughts through those clouded eyes — but she didn’t know psychology, and she couldn’t make out what he was thinking.
What she did know was that an opportunity to change herself was right there in front of her.
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