The traveling merchant came to the village a few days after that. In the afternoon, from the road beyond the wheat field, I saw a wagon with a canvas cover slowly approaching, raising dust on the dirt road. Hearing the creak of the wheels, people gathered in the village square in an instant. Old people, women, and children. It was a rare bustle.
I was at the edge of it, too. The old man had asked me to “give this to the traveling merchant when he comes,” so I was holding a package of dried sun grass. It seemed that the medicinal herbs of this village were carried off to distant towns by this kind of merchant who traveled the roads. I gradually learned through my visits that he was one of the eccentric old man’s few regular customers.
Maro on my shoulder twitched its nose at the unfamiliar color of the canvas cover. I fixed my bangs, which I had tied back behind me with a leather string, with my fingertips.
In these three months, my hair had grown a lot, and since it got in the way when I was working on cutting things, I had started tying it back like this. I was already used to washing my body at the stream, too. …Though only what I was wearing remained the same—a strangely tailored outfit that no one in this world wore.
Soon enough, the traveling merchant who spread out his goods in the middle of the square was a stout man with a thick beard. While lining up salt, needles, and colored cloth, his mouth kept moving incessantly. Half of the business was goods, and the other half apparently was rumors.
“—So, as for the royal capital. Business is booming over there.”
The man’s voice raised quite a bit.
“The heroes are kicking away and scattering the monsters of the north left and right. They say they burned down a mountain with just a single flame. The names of the heroes grow day by day. The capital is buzzing with that story right now.”
The villagers buzzed with an “oh.” Children played around by mimicking swinging invisible swords.
…Burning down a mountain with just a single flame. I listened to that story as if hearing the sound of fireworks going off in the distance. It was probably one of those people who had easily boosted their stats by double or triple digits. Takamiya would likely pull off something like that. If I had stayed under that dazzling light. A useless person whose stats were all ones would probably have been pushed to the front first and ground to pieces. …Thinking about it that way, bustling stories were much better off echoing in the distance.
What I had on hand was the medicine-smelling barn, the wheat field, and this ball of fur on my shoulder. That was plenty for me.
When the crowd had calmed down a bit, I approached the wagon to hand over the entrusted package. Then, before noticing my hands, the merchant’s eyes settled on my appearance. They were sharp, shrewd eyes, like someone appraising goods.
“You… you’re a face I don’t see around. And that outfit. It’s a strange tailoring that you hardly ever see around these parts.”
The man lowered his voice a little bit.
“Don’t tell me you’re someone who drifted down from the royal capital too. Maybe from the crumbs of the heroes, or something.”
My heart skipped a beat.
——Bad. I pasted as vacant a smile as possible onto my face. Denying it earnestly here would only make me look more suspicious.
“No way. A hero, absolutely not. …I’m just someone who was almost on the verge of collapsing and got taken in by this village, as you can see.”
I wouldn’t lie. I would just keep the crucial parts vague. The castle, and being chased out—I would manage without saying those things.
The man let out a “hmph” and didn’t pursue it any further. Instead, when he received the handed-over package, he unknotted the string with practiced fingers and deeply inhaled the scent of the dried grass inside. Immediately, his face relaxed.
——Ah, this is it, this is it. It’s Old Galen’s sun grass. The drying process is completely different.
The man said with heartfelt appreciation.
“Listen here, kid. Old Galen, whom you’re taking care of, is a well-known apothecary on this road if we’re talking about skill alone. There are even places that send messengers all the way from distant villages just to get his healing medicine. For me too, days when I can carry that grass mean good earnings.”
…Galen, was his name? Even though I kept visiting, I hadn’t even known the name of that silent old man. Yet the merchant spoke it so casually. …Is that so? I was a little surprised. The medicine made by that old man at the edge of the village reached that far. No wonder he was so strict about the small details of chopping.
“But you know, that guy is old now, too. He can’t possibly manage everything by himself. …And yet, he’s awfully eccentric. Even the villagers won’t go near that barn unless they have business to get medicine. …And yet, he keeps an outsider like you right by his side. He must really like you, kid.”
Likes me, huh? When said straight to my face, it felt somehow ticklish. …Still, even this minor contribution of mine, which was still far from a true grain of achievement, might someday reach someone’s wounds in some village. Might be useful. Thinking about that, I somehow felt restless and needlessly fixed the knot of the leather string tying back my bangs. Not bad. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all.
As if pouring cold water on that relaxed mood, the man suddenly stopped folding his goods.
“…Especially right now, it’s a time when that old man’s grass is a godsend.”
The man glanced around before dropping his voice another level. He continued so that only I could hear.
“On the northern front line, soldiers suffering from injuries never stop coming. …So, the church is driving out the bearers of holy healing to the front lines, root and branch. Those hands of divine healing. They are taking every single one of those hands, which you might find one or none of in a village. Because of that, back in the villages, if someone loses a finger or gets their stomach ripped open, there’s nobody anywhere who can perform sacred healing.”
The man carefully stored the package deep inside the cargo.
“In a land like that, a single well-working healing medicine is a lifeline itself. People in distant villages press their hands together and worship the old man’s grass like a prayer. …Seriously. An apothecary is basically a replacement for sacred healing these days.”
The man lowered his voice even more.
“The thing is, danger isn’t just on the northern front line, you know. If you travel the roads like I do, you understand whether you like it or not. People worn out by war, people who ran away from the front lines… people with nowhere to go are overflowing onto the roads these days. Stories of caravans getting stripped of everything aren’t rare lately either. …At this rate, before long, those desperate vagrants might wander casually into a remote village like this one, too. Kid, you better be careful around unfamiliar faces yourself.”
Saying just that, the man returned to his usual slick business voice.
I watched the canvas cover of the departing wagon for a while. …An apothecary acting as a replacement for sacred healing. Mundane handwork that should have been outdated, turning out to be in demand like this through a twist of fate. It was a strange story, somehow.
Still, that was a story far off in the north. Not getting involved. That’s the best way. …So, I thought. I thought that, but—
Only that one remark the man made—about desperate vagrants overflowing the roads—stayed strangely stuck deep in my ears.
It was different from the northern front line. The road connected right up to this village. …Just like that night when monsters came down to the village for the first time in years—bad things usually arrived this way, wearing the face of distant rumors, without any warning.
The dust of the road swept away in the wind. Feeling as though something still unseen was slowly creeping closer from beyond it, I quickened my pace toward the barn at the edge of the village where the old man was waiting.