'To think I'd get caught here, and even run into a Mage. What rotten luck!' Saji thought hazily as pain washed over his consciousness.
Barefoot Saji—that was the name the town's hooligans called him. Saji was used to going barefoot. In the dead of night, his silent, shoeless feet would carry him into strangers' homes, and Saji would always succeed.
He was a thief, a fact known only to the buddy who helped him fence his stolen goods. It was Saji's best-kept secret. By day, he wandered the streets with a group of similarly skinny youths; by night, he would slip out to work alone.
His second secret was that he had joined an Underground Sect.
Saji's only other failure before tonight had also happened at an inn. The owner hadn't dragged the terrified little man to the Judicial Court, but had shown him mercy instead. The owner had dismissed his staff and untied Saji himself.
'What a merciful gentleman!' In Saji's eyes, the pot-bellied, balding man suddenly seemed kind and affable.
"Sir, what do you want me to do? Just please don't lock me up and send me to the Judicial Court!"
"Don't be nervous, child," the owner said with a strange smile. "Have you ever heard of the Mother of the World?"
And just like that, Saji joined an Underground Sect that called itself the "Return of the Holy Mother." The innkeeper would periodically gather the other followers to preach their doctrine. Saji didn't really understand what the owner was saying; he listened with the same attitude he had when listening to his grandmother's stories, and he always led the applause for the owner afterward. If his first secret allowed Saji to be a little more generous among the hooligans and gain some face, then his second, proud little secret represented a hope. Just as the innkeeper preached: if the great Mother of the World returned to the land, then Barefoot Saji would be transformed, becoming even more noble than the Casters and Divine Benefactors of today!
A town that wasn't particularly wealthy couldn't make a thief rich, and the more he stole, the more cautious people became. Saji felt it was getting harder and harder to "stock up on inventory" for his "business." The "kind-hearted" innkeeper found him again, wanting to give Saji a golden opportunity.
"Sir, by the Holy Mother, I haven't had a single 'sale' in days!"
"Saji, you are not to use the Holy Mother's name for such things!" the owner said sternly, before his expression suddenly shifted to a smile. "But as a friend, I'm going to tell you a juicy piece of news—a fat fish has checked into my inn, a rich fellow from the Imperial Capital."
"But he has Guards, boss! I can't do that job!"
"What's there to be afraid of? From what I can see, it's just one proper merchant, one young master, and four wooden-faced coachmen... If you ask me, there are only two Guards—the Dwarf and the Half-Elf! I'll serve them my special vintage at dinner and make sure they have a good night's sleep, understand?"
"I'll do it! It would be wrong of me not to, boss!"
...
"A little salt on his wounds and he confessed," Rorschach said, relaying the skinny man's confession to Mr. Ah Le after he returned.
"The Return to the Holy Mother Order? The merchant association has never heard of a Cult like that. Since there's a problem with the owner, we should leave at once."
"Why run!?" Singrev grumbled. "We're the victims here! We've got the young master Mage (his new title for Rorschach after being told not to call him 'milord'), we've got Miss Ranger, and you've got me!" The Dwarf brandished his hammer. "Let's just capture the innkeeper and have the old sirs at the Judicial Court serve up some justice!"
"Singrev! I am your employer right now! You will follow my orders!"
Ah Le, in a rare loss of composure, quickly collected himself and explained, "The owners we meet at these town inns are just glorified managers. Aren't the real masters either minor Nobility or the old sirs in the Judicial Court and the Parliament? You want to go to *them*? Now that an Underground Sect is involved, if we don't run, won't we just be asking for trouble by getting tangled up with these people?"
"Oh, right! My bad, boss. Don't be mad!"
"I'm not mad! Let's go already, my dear old Dwarf!"
The entire group mounted up, with the thief Saji tied up securely. The coachmen, who had drunk the drugged wine, were still a bit dizzy. Mr. Ah Le used smelling salts to wake them up, but when he got to Hag, he fumbled and spilled the salts, so Ah Le used a slap to bring him around instead.
Speaking of which, Singrev had drunk the most, but Rorschach could see the Dwarf was still full of life. 'Dwarves have a higher resistance to poison than normal humans. The natural history textbook didn't lie to me after all.'
The convoy set off at once.
The commotion still woke up everyone in the inn. The innkeeper, holding a torch, blocked the back gate and shouted:
"Mr. Ah Le, everyone, was the humble fare of my establishment not to your taste? Were the beds not soft enough? You've already paid a deposit, why not at least stay the night before leaving?"
He spoke with such courtesy, but the three or four men he led were each holding clubs, cleavers, and pitchforks, striking a "warmly hospitable" pose.
"Rorschach Mage, I'm counting on you!"
Ah Le shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. The word "Mage" made the group at the gate tense up.
With one hand on the reins, Rorschach formed a Water Bomb with the other and hurled it at one of the men. Hill also raised her Hand Cannon, preparing to charge on horseback.
An opening immediately appeared at the gate.
"This third-rate Wild Mage can only squirt water! Don't be afraid, everyone! Stop them!"
'Wild Mage, my ass! I'm a professionally trained Mage with dual certification from both the Magic Guild and the Empire!' Rorschach really wanted to slap this owner across the face with his graduation certificate from the Empire Royal Magic Academy.
Although the men had already shrunk back at the sight of a Mage in the enemy party, the innkeeper was still trying to organize an interception. Rorschach had a change of heart, conjured a Fireball the size of a bushel basket, and smashed it into the stables. The wooden shed collapsed instantly, the dry hay burst into flames, and the owner's own horses began to screech in terror.
This move stunned the men, but they still didn't clear the way.
'Should I praise them for their commendable courage?'
Rorschach cast another one. Both its speed and power surpassed that of an ordinary Low Tier Mage. This time, the Fireball landed on the inn's thatched roof, which was instantly engulfed in a towering inferno.
"The next one is aimed at you! Get out of the way!" This time, none of the men dared to underestimate the young master. They watched as he clenched his right hand into a fist, another Fireball already starting to form.
The innkeeper's face went deathly pale. He could only back down. "Forget these outsiders! Damn it, put out the fire! Put out the fire!"
Illuminated by the fire, the convoy charged out of the inn, rushing into the pitch-black wilderness without a moment's pause.
With the large carriage, they couldn't pick up much speed, especially traveling at night. Fortunately, no one was chasing them from behind.
"Are you afraid of killing someone?" At some point, Hill had pulled up alongside Rorschach and asked the question.
"I'd rather not. Why should a fine young man like me get weighed down with a debt of blood?"
"You're a Mage. An Adventurer."
"So?"
"When the thief was coming at you with a knife, you first tried to drive him away with a glowing stone. Then you aimed for his torso and limbs. Only when you thought that wasn't working did you aim for his head."
"I just couldn't see clearly. Even if he had gotten close to me, I could have shattered his knife to bits."
"When we were leaving the inn, you could have just used your Fireball Skill on those men directly."
"They were blocking the gate. If I used my Fireball Skill, how would our own convoy get out? Are we a circus troupe that can jump through rings of fire?"
"Alright. I understand." In the darkness, Rorschach couldn't make out Hill's expression.