Changed Fate(2)

Gray clouds drifted overhead, their shadows sweeping across the open space where barbarians gathered to discuss all manner of topics.

Other races usually designate indoor spaces as communal areas for the sake of formality and security, but the barbarians considered that inefficient.

What was the point of gathering indoors and sitting on chairs when they could just stand and talk?

For that reason, there was no space in the barbarian sanctuary that functioned as a meeting hall. So when Versyl requested a place for dozens of people to gather, the head adminstrator guided her here.

She couldn’t quite understand how a group this large didn’t even have one suitable meeting place.

[Don’t try to understand everything. Just accept that it’s how things are. It’s much better for your mental health.]

However, after hearing the resignation in the head administrator’s voice, Versyl simply nodded.

It felt like sincere advice.

And honestly… it wasn’t wrong.

A large meeting hall would only make it harder to communicate with dozens of people at once.

‘And with everyone gathered like this, there was a sense of equality, too.’

Maybe this was one of the barbarians’ strengths.

Once you accepted it, you started to see the advantages.

However, the many clan leaders gathered in the field didn’t seem to agree with her.

“Ahem…”

“Why did you summon us to the field so early in the morning?”

“How are we supposed to discuss important matters in a place like this? Does the Barbarian tribe not even have a hall?”

“They don’t.”

“Hmph… even if they’ve developed a lot, they’re still—”

“That’s enough.”

From Versill’s perspective, these people didn’t understand their current situation at all. They weren’t guests.

‘I suppose I should start with this.’

Before starting the formal meeting, Versil addressed this point first.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we are refugees who fled a war zone. The Barbarians are our hosts who took us in.”

“……Ahem.”

“So I was thinking we should take a moment to express our gratitude for the shelter and food they’ve shared with us. What do you think?”

“…….”

“You never know, right? If they decide to kick us out, we’ll have no choice but to head straight back to District 7.”

At that, she glanced at Aynar.

Aynar grinned and stepped forward.

“That’s right, you parasites! We saved you, housed you, and fed you. If you’re human, isn’t it only right to let out a massive battle cry as a sign of respect and gratitude?!”

“A… a battle cry?”

“Are you… are you talking about Behel-la?”

“Of course!! You can refuse if you want! We Barbarians respect free will!”

“Ah… well, in that case, for religious reasons, I must dec—”

“Oh! Then you can leave the sanctuary right now!”

“You just said you respect free will!”

“Freedom comes with great responsibility. Didn’t you know that?”

The man fell silent as Aynar looked him over like he was scum, and the same happened to the other leaders present.

It was time for Versyl to offer them a carrot.

“Aynar, stop. That gentleman probably only meant to decline for religious reasons; I’m sure he’s deeply grateful to the Barbarians.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“O-Of course. Anyone with a soul would be, wouldn’t they?”

The man nodded vigorously, seizing the opportunity. It was far better to say a few words of thanks than to scream a battle cry in front of everyone. The other leaders, sharing the sentiment, began chiming in.

“Miss Pheline, we are truly grateful.”

“Our Parthia Clan will also never forget the grace we’ve received.”

Watching them, Versyl smiled faintly.

It was better to let them simply offer their thanks than force them to shout a battle cry. At first glance, it might seem like nothing more than the bare minimum, but small gestures like this would slowly build the foundation for a closer relationship.

“Vice-Commander Gowland.”

“Speak, Commander Erta.”

“Might we hear the reason you gathered us here this morning? Surely it wasn’t just to have us say thank you.”

“Ah, that?”

Versyl stepped forward and spoke loudly for everyone.

“About an hour ago, the barrier between the sanctuary and District 7 started to weaken.”

That short statement hit the explorers like a bolt of lightning, as they had let their guard down after reaching the sanctuary.

“The Noarkans set up the barrier around the sanctuary in the first place! There’s no way they can focus on us while they’re fighting the palace too!”

“Reason doesn’t matter,” Versyl cut in firmly.

“The fact remains that the barrier has started to weaken. When I inspected it, I found it was naturally dissipating because its mana supply had been cut off.”

“Vice-captain, how much time do we have left?” One man calmly asked Versyl.

Was it the leader of the Labraim Clan? she wondered

Unlike the other clan members she’d wanted to smack at least once, he had always remained rational, both before and after arriving at the sanctuary.

“It’s not exact, but I estimate about an hour.”

“An hour…”

“There are only two possibilities,” she continued. “Either something went wrong and the mana supply failed…”

“And the second?”

She looked at the man who’d asked the question.

“It means something has happened on the Noark side.”

“…?”

“They finally want to get rid of us.”

In truth, Versyl considered this the most likely possibility. Perhaps it showed in her voice.

“…”

“…”

A heavy silence followed. The area fell deathly quiet, far too quiet for a place filled with dozens of people.

The one who finally broke the silence was a woman.

“Then… what do we do now…?”

Well.

If she were honest, Versyl wanted to say she didn’t know either.

But…

[Starting today, you’re the vice-captain of our clan.]

She couldn’t say that.

Versyl closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again.

“Everyone needs to prepare for battle.”

“What’s the strategy?”

“First, we focus on defense. We’ll set up positions at the main gate. If we hold the line there, the enemy won’t break through easily.”

“If you say first, that means there’s a next step?”

“Yes. If we spot an opening during the battle… we push forward.”

“Pu– push forward…?”

The leaders widened their eyes, as if they’d heard something unthinkable.
Versyl, however, simply shrugged. She might be a mage and a ranged damage dealer, but she’d learned her lesson.

“Yes. Because offense is the best defense.”

If you want to protect something truly precious, you have to know how to strike back.

***

The Chief adminstrative Officer of the Barbarian tribe, Shabin Emure.

Right now, she was the busiest person in the sanctuary. For some reason, the sanctuary was caught in the flames of war again, and unfortunately, she was the one responsible for everything that happened within its borders.

So she had to stay focused and—

“Miss Emure, I’ve brought some tea. Please, moisten your throat for a moment.”

“…W-What? But I don’t have time—”

“Surely there is time for a cup of tea. You don’t need to carry all this burden alone.”

“…I-I know what you mean. But the enemy is about to swarm in, how can I rest?!”

She felt like she was going insane.

Her expertise was administration.

Not war.

“If that’s the case, I won’t push further… but I’ll leave it here. Please drink it for the sake of my effort. Sometimes you need to relax to work better.”

“Ah… yes… thank you, Mr. Rottmiller.”

It really did seem like Rotmiller had come solely to deliver the tea, because he turned to leave as soon as he set the cup down. Only then did Shabin Emure notice something different about him.

“M-Mr. Rotmiller? What is that outfit you’re wearing?”

Rotmiller, who was always neatly dressed in everyday clothes, was somehow wearing gear.

Like someone about to enter the Labyrinth.

“Ah… now that I think about it, this is the first time you’ve seen this, Miss Emure. I didn’t dispose of my old gear just in case, and now I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Are you… planning to join the fight…?”

“Shouldn’t I? They need every hand they can get.”

“But you were a scout!”

It was a comment that could be seen as rude. However, Rottmiller simply gave a gentle smile.

“Haha, don’t worry too much. I may be a Scout, but I was an explorer once. One who entered the Labyrinth to protect what was precious.”

Shabin fell silent.

Realistically, she had no right to stop him anyway.

“Anyway, I came to say goodbye. Once I head to the front lines, we probably won’t see each other until it’s over.”

In the end, there was only one thing she could say.

“…Please be careful.”

She spoke shortly, pouring her heart into it. Rotmiller replied just as briefly.

“…I shall return safely to you.”

With that, Rotmiller left the room, leaving Shabin Emure with flushed cheeks.

“C-come back…? To me…!”

Even as she sipped the fragrant tea, her heart refused to stop racing.

***

Sir Lion

Only one person at the Round Table used that title. The one who always acted like Auril Gavis’s spokesperson.

“The Wolf.”

Funnily enough, the Hirkhmuta mask they were wearing was also a black wolf. Though calling it a coincidence would be a stretch.

So he was always a part of that organization.

Even without knowing the whole story, I could tell he’d probably chosen the wolf mask on purpose.

“Haha, don’t be so wary. I’m not your enemy.”

“Then why are you blocking my way?”

“I never blocked you.”

“Yeah? Then move.”

I spoke coldly, but he didn’t budge.

“Like I said, no need to be cautious. I’m only here to give you a piece of advice, on the elder’s orders.”

The “elder” clearly meant Auril Gavis.

“Advice…”I echoed

The word literally means “words that help.” But why did it feel so ominous the moment I heard it? Despite my skepticism, he offered his “advice,” sconfident that I would listen.

“Since you came this way, you must be heading toward the sanctuary.”

“…….”

“Don’t go to the sanctuary. Go over there.”

He pointed his finger toward the burning District 7. I was so dumbfounded I couldn’t even laugh.

So you were lying about not blocking me.”

“If you insist on going to the sanctuary, I’ll step aside.”

“Then move.”

He actually did.

I walked past cautiously.

Then—

“Oh, one more thing. Killing the clown wasn’t a good choice.”

“Does my choice matter?”

“It does. At least for you. The elder said if he’d lived, he would’ve helped you greatly.”

“Sounds like your elder sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“He’s merciful and noble.”

Yeah, sure.

I kept walking.

One step.

Two.

Three—

‘Damn it…’

Finally I turned back.

“…Why.”

I didn’t like how his eyes crinkled behind the mask the moment I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t hold back the question any longer.

“You’re telling me not to go to the sanctuary?”

When I finally couldn’t hold it in and voiced the question, he answered as if he’d been waiting for it.

“Depending on where you go, different people will die.”

“……”

“So don’t go to the sanctuary. Head to District 7 instead. That would be the most beneficial decision for you, Sir Lion.”

“A choice for my sake… huh.”

I let out a short chuckle and asked one more thing.

“Forget that. Did this ‘elder’ of yours also tell you this future?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking, but the advice I’m permitted to give ends here—”

Yeah, I wasn’t asking for more advice.

Crunch—!

I shot my hand out, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the edge of the wall.

Then I spoke.

“So what happens now? Do you live… or do you die here?”

If he guessed right—

I might actually believe him.

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