Chapter 84 - 7-10
Alf Cedar took a ship from the Nerea Peninsula to the continent of Futsuria, and from there, crossed the waves of the Farsa Sea to land in Koroi, the capital of the Koroi Empire.
Unlike the time when Yugis Necrat had struggled, Koroi's port functions had mostly recovered. The great city of Koroi, with its many towering earth-colored spires, was finally beginning to recover from the shock of being crushed by the horse-riding nomads who were like evil spirits of the grasslands.
Alf knew nothing of such things.
After helping with the unloading of cargo as his final job, Alf bid farewell to the sailors. In a corner of the port, there was a pile of refuse that looked like a garbage dump. Finding a ceramic bowl with a chipped rim, Alf could not help but rejoice at the auspicious start. Immediately, he searched for a road with a lot of foot traffic and sat down on the street, placing the cracked bowl before him, the young mage.
His travel funds were completely gone, so he had to earn money. His plan was to earn plenty, go to a tavern, and be doted upon by older sisters with supple dark skin and mysterious eyes.
Alf called out to the people passing by in the Enagamo language.
"Sir, why not sell some mercy and buy some luck?"
"Sir, this is a great opportunity to show your conscience to the heavens, isn't it?"
"Sir, please leave behind some heavy spare change."
No one stopped. On the contrary, they didn't even look his way.
—Maybe they don't understand Enagamo.
The brown-skinned southerners, clad in beautiful clothes, walked by with composed faces.
Alf observed the passersby. It was as if the passersby were afraid to cast their eyes upon Alf.
The reason for the passersby's unnatural stiffness soon became clear.
Law enforcement officers wearing yellow uniforms arrived on horseback.
One was a southerner, and the other was a middle-aged man with black hair.
The southern officer manipulated the reins and brought the horse closer.
"Hey, you," he began, being abrupt and rude. "Begging is prohibited here. Not only those who beg, but also those who give money will be punished."
"Really? No wonder I thought no one would deal with me. Then where should I beg?"
"As if I'd tell you that. Young people these days are slovenly. Why don't you work?"
"I don't have time for that. They say life is short."
"Yours isn't the only life that's short. Everyone else is working hard, aren't they?"
"Sachika, Korsuikodau, Machika."
Suddenly, the middle-aged man with black hair interrupted in an unfamiliar language. The black-haired officer did not seem to be a southerner. Alf was struck with admiration and froze. It sounded like a beautiful language. He repeated it instinctively.
"Sachika, Korsuikodau, Machika."
The middle-aged man with black hair glared at Alf. "...Bikkes! Saharmishitau."
"Bikkes! Saharmishitau."
"Toharna? Saharmishitau Machika."
"Toharna?—"
"Idiot! Stop it!" The southern officer dismounted in a panic. "Don't tease him, he's a Kosa person from the plains."
"I'm not teasing. I want to learn the language."
Alf said, looking up at the Kosa person. This was the first time he had seen a Kosa person. I see, he's on a horse, Alf thought with admiration.
"Bohakesahori."
The Kosa person uttered a new word. As Alf tried to imitate it, he was pinched on the cheek by the southern officer.
"You idiot. You went and angered him. Throw him in the dungeon for a night, he says."
"Do I get food?"
"Plenty of the smelly kind."
The southerner took a bundle of rope attached to the horse's saddle.
With practiced skill, he tied Alf's wrists and waist. Holding the end of the rope, he returned to the horse and made it walk. Alf followed obediently.
"You're a foreigner, aren't you?"
Alf answered while staggering.
"I am the world-renowned Siddim person, Alf Cedar-sama."
"—Siddim?" The southerner snorted. "Then, did you flee from the war? Did Siddim lose?"
"War?"
"You don't know? You're from Siddim in the north, right? The prevailing rumor is that a war has begun with our Kosa Empire."
—The Kosa people are attacking.
Alf had heard that story while he was in Siddim. He hadn't thought it would be this soon.
"I see... Wait a minute." Alf tried to cross his arms, only to realize he was tied up. "I didn't even have to travel to a place like this; if I'd just waited in Siddim, those old men might have come over there."
"What do you mean by old men?"
"The Great King of Kosa is supposed to be served by three old sorcerer-grandfathers. Haven't you heard of them?"
"Who knows. What would you do meeting sorcerers? Learn magic or something?"
"Don't be stupid. They're evil sorcerers, so I'm going to kill them one by one."
The southerner in the yellow uniform spat at Alf's feet. "Don't even say things like that as a joke in this country. I don't even want to bother cutting off your head."
"I don't want to kill people for the sake of it either. But—"
"Feba, Roppoi."
The Kosa officer walking ahead looked back at Alf with a scary face.
The southern officer translated. "Shut up, he says."
"Bikkes!" Alf cursed, and had no choice but to Roppoi.
The dungeon was a long, single-story building surrounded by high walls.
Although it wasn't a particularly large facility, a mountain of criminals was crammed inside. Furthermore, the walls and floors of the building were abnormally thick. Consequently, the living space for the criminals was that much narrower. Alf was thrown into a communal cell with six men.
Alf sat on a long bench installed against the wall. Suddenly, he remembered.
It was about sexual acts in dungeons. When he was a street urchin in Karnain, Alf had been threatened by adults. They said that when men are together in a cramped room, they sometimes start seeking distractions. Apparently, the strong violate the weak.
If that were the case, the first strike wins. It's better to violate than to be violated. Alf glared at the man next to him.
"Hey, let me do it."
A man with a body like a rocky mountain looked down at Alf.
Alf shrank back. "I'm very sorry."
The rocky-mountain fellow averted his gaze from Alf in silence, but Alf did not let down his guard.
—This bastard looks strong.
He decided to stay awake tonight, and once the rocky-mountain fellow dropped his pants, he would kick him right in the balls.
Bedtime arrived without the so-called smelly food ever being supplied.
Since no blankets were provided, Alf lay on the floor. Keeping his gaze fixed on the back of the rocky-mountain southerner, Alf remained wide awake. He wondered what he would do if he were approached gently, rather than being violently attacked, when suddenly, the darkness took form.
A black shape created an outline of mere presence within the darkness.
Alf sat up and crossed his legs on the dungeon floor.
Then, perhaps sensing that presence, the rocky-mountain fellow woke up nimbly and looked at Alf.
"What is it?"
The muscle-bound prisoner spoke in Enagamo. He seemed to have been wary of Alf.
Alf shook his head. "It's nothing. An old man came."
The big man looked at the back wall of the communal cell and stiffened. A grandfather's face was floating, filling the entire wall. It was a huge face. Every single carved wrinkle could be seen. The old man, consisting only of a face, was grinning.
The rocky-mountain man seemed to be of a fortitude type, as he neither fainted nor screamed. He appeared to be glaring back at the old man.
Alf gently touched his back and put the fortitude-type prisoner to sleep. With his meager muscle strength, he laid the rocky-mountain body down on its side.
"Hey, old man." Alf Cedar looked up at the giant old man's face. "A certain monk told me your names. Are you the one called Manam?"
"Baa," the old man opened his mouth and extended a thick tongue from within. Covering the prisoners sleeping on the floor of the communal cell, the tongue tried to reach Alf's feet.
"I have a message from One-Eyed Zarko, but looking at you, that's out of the question. I'll tell you in person. That aside, old man, about Ness. What you did to Ness was too much. I firmly protest."
The old man's giant face moved its thick tongue as if fanning. He seemed to want to insult Alf. Feeling that it would be pitiful not to play along, Alf tried to show his tongue as well. At that moment, the opponent retracted his tongue.
"Boy," the face filling the wall spoke in the Siddim language. "Humans, you see, determine the path they should take while making small bets every day. First, they try small bets, the kind where they don't lose much even if they fail. If they win, they move forward and make a slightly larger bet next time. If they lose, they look for another path. In that way, they move toward the winning side, toward the winning side, searching for a safe and profitable path."
With a big face, the old man began a petty story.
"Can't you just bet one more time if you lose?"
"There are countless lives that continue to lose in that way, ho ho."
"I've kept winning small, and somehow, I've made it here, you know?"
"Even so, boy, you bet too big. Koroi is Kosa territory, our spiritual turf. Coming here with nothing but your own body, what do you bet? Come, shall we have one match? I shall have you bet the thing you desire most."
No sooner had he spoken than six arms grew out of the giant face's mouth and rushed toward Alf's head, twisting their countless joints. They were not physical arms, but something like spiritual tentacles. They passed through hair, skin, and skull to enter inside the head. Even though it should have been impossible to touch the brain once inside, Alf felt a chilly sensation. Something spiritual attached to Alf's body was being caressed with a creepy touch.
Alf took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Opposing the spiritual tentacles the opponent had extended, he created spiritual teeth of his own and bit them off.
A gasp was heard, and the old men's arms retracted like the horns of a teased snail.
The unsettling and suspicious presence that had filled the cell suddenly dissipated.
"I'm Alf Cedar, I'm coming to see you, you old geezers!"
"Shut up, you piece of shit!"
A sleep-deprived response from a prisoner came from the back of the communal cell.
The old man's face had vanished without a trace. The quiet night had returned.
Alf lay down, hugging his trembling body.
Something had been done to him. That was certain. Yet, he didn't know what had been done.
The next day, when he was released and looked up at the blue sky, last night's experience felt like a dream to Alf. Alf stretched and loosened his back.
—I see, dungeons are scary places.
Having learned one thing, he stepped out onto the street.
Since he had a letter given to him by a kind bishop-sama, he felt like trying to seek help from the church.
Shortly after stepping onto the street, Alf let out a cry of terror and stopped in his tracks.
Last night's old man was walking this way.
The old man approached with an unexpectedly straight back and simply passed by without even glancing at Alf.
Alf looked around in confusion. Then, he saw that last night's old man was everywhere. An old man walking the road, an old man sprinkling water in front of a shop, an old man carrying a basket, an old man flirting with a man.
Looking closely, the old men's bodies were slender or small, some had swelling breasts, and some had plump buttocks.
—They're women.
Every woman's face had become an old man's face. Looking very closely, there were old men with children's bodies, and old men with old women's bodies. There were even baby old men.
Alf stood in front of a woman walking the road, grabbed her shoulder, and looked closely at her face. While the body was sexy, the face was that sorcerer-grandfather he had seen yesterday.
"What a filthy face."
The woman with the old man's face punched Alf around the eye.
He grabbed another woman and gazed at her face.
"Awful. Full of wrinkles."
That woman kicked him hard in the shin.
"This is too much..." Overwhelmed by the shock, Alf collapsed and placed both hands on the ground.
He began to sob, watching his tears soak into the red southern soil.
—But, wait a minute.
He thought that even if the face was an old man's, the body was a woman's, but offering his virginity to a woman with an old man's face was far too miserable. Alf howled in the middle of the thoroughfare.
"Damn it! I'm really pissed off! I'll kill you!"
While he had been fired up about saving Ness Syllabus, Alf's sense of purpose, which had not quite shed its sightseeing mood, finally locked onto a single point like a drawn bow and arrow. He would subjugate those old geezers as quickly as possible. Alf swore upon his own tears.
Then, a single coin was tossed in front of him.
It seemed that begging was permitted around here.
Alf picked up the coin.
"What the hell, you bastard. Messing with me... whoa, this is a silver coin."
A boy's tears dry easily. Immediately, in order to find a shop where he could eat breakfast, Alf stood up and began to walk.
The three old men were by no means safe either.
It was the day after they had combined the spiritual power of three people to attack Alf and suffered an unexpected counterattack.
Nezumo's right hand, which had been bitten by the boy, was swollen purple.
Manam placed his hand on Nezumo's forehead. He had a severe fever.
"It's nothing... just this much."
While breathing feverishly, Nezumo was acting tough.
Manam led Persa outside the tent.
"That brat seems to have strong power of thought. It's as if Nezumo has consumed poison," Manam said.
"What the hell, Manam!" Persa flared up. "What the hell! That kid is quite the skilled user, isn't he!"
"I told you exactly that."
"You said he was a brat, didn't you?"
"I warned you many times, didn't I? That we should take action quickly," Manam sighed. "Anyway, let us have an audience with the Great King."
The three sages had come to the East.
A rebellion had broken out in the nation of Byo, and Great King Geraha had gone to suppress it. The old men had insisted to a young man named Binga, who was their caretaker, to bring them along.
The scale of the rebellion was not large. It should have settled down without the Great King even having to lift a finger. However, Kirikiri, who had contributed to the conquest of the Eastern nation of Byo, likely wanted to use this opportunity to show his loyalty to the Great King.
'Great King! Please, we beg you to lend us your strength!'
With a kind of flattery, he entertained Great King Geraha. Without the Great King's power, the East will not be settled; please guide us. That was the kind of sycophancy.
Great King Geraha was the Great King, and he must have had his own intentions. He was worried that the Mukuri people might start claiming royal authority in the nation of Byo. Therefore, setting aside the northern conquest, he had come to the East himself.
The rebellion was suppressed immediately, and the ringleaders were hanged, bringing that matter to a close.
It was at such a time that Manam and Persa requested an audience with the Great King. They were made to wait for about half a day.
Called by the Great King's messenger, they headed to a gaudily decorated tent. Inside the tent, a grand chair resembling an altar had been installed. Great King Geraha was seated on that throne, which looked like a peacock's tail.
The attire the Great King wore also caught Manam's eye. It was a gorgeous and dazzling garment. It must have belonged to an Eastern king. Finely embroidered phoenixes spread their wings toward the sleeves, shining in gold.
On both sides of the throne stood high-ranking Mukuri and people who appeared to be officials of the nation of Byo.
When Great King Geraha saw Manam and the others, he looked somewhat awkward.
He lumbered down from the throne and crossed his legs on the tent's floor cloth. The courtiers seemed bewildered, but in the end, no one spoke.
"It has been a long time, old ones," the Great King said.
"We are grateful for your words," Manam placed his forehead on the floor cloth. "The sorcerer named Nezumo, who has spent many years as a friend and companion, has been running a high fever since this morning. We have received an order from Your Majesty the Great King that 'all medical acts are strictly forbidden.'"
Manam said. He had once received such an imperial decree from Great King Geraha.
"We have strictly observed that prohibition, but now—"
"I understand. I shall lift the prohibition, limited to the treatment of the three companions among yourselves. So, in other words, is it that, Nezumo-grandfather is, well, that?"
Manam raised his face.
The Great King tilted his ugly face and peered into Manam's face.
"There is no need for concern. It is not yet his time to die."
"Hmm. Is that so. —Once Nezumo-grandfather has recovered, come show your faces again. I have something I wish to consult with you about."
Manam stopped breathing in surprise and immediately prostrated himself.
Backing out of the tent on his buttocks, Manam and Persa looked at each other.
"Did you hear that?"
"I heard it."
"Consult about what, exactly?" Manam crossed his arms.
"What do you mean 'what', it's about that part!" Persa said enthusiastically.
"By 'that', do you mean the lower body?"
"That's it. He might have decided to resume treatment."
If so, it would be a great reversal for Manam and the others. Again, under the guise of treatment, they could touch the Great King's crown and quietly slip in magic. They would be able to plant wicked impulses in the Great King's brain.
For example, an impulse like 'greed'.
The three had considered a strategy to stimulate and incite the Great King's desires. Persa was the one who proposed it. In the first place, Kosa people, despite boasting about taking the world, have generally poor living standards. They ride horses in the fields and eat sheep and such.
They would raise that standard of living under the Great King's leadership. In Persa's words, 'give the Kosa people dreams and hope'.
The Kosa people are the strongest ethnic group in the world. First, they would make Great King Geraha himself think: what is wrong with being luxurious, why can't we dream?
Actually, it didn't seem like a bad thing. Humanity would develop in pursuit of comfort. First, they wanted the Great King, who was used to a modest life, to become a bit more greedy. They wanted to nurture that desire and eventually have the Great King become avaricious.
The reason was that those who become prisoners of desire are easy to take advantage of. If one tempts them by showing off what they want, one can manipulate that person.
The method didn't matter; Manam wanted to make Great King Geraha obey him.
The possibility of the world becoming one exists only now. If they fail this, the next opportunity would require waiting for the arrival of Luv-U three thousand years later.
The only man chosen by the stars to achieve world domination is Geraha Wolf. However, without the help of Manam and the others, the Great King's unification of the world will fail.
Therefore, the three old men wanted to pilot Geraha themselves to achieve world unification and die with that as proof of their existence.
"And yet, we are hated by the Great King, aren't we."
Manam tried not to expect too much.
Pathetically, the three old men had almost completely lost the Great King's trust.
"It's probably Nezumo's fault," Persa said. "Because he rushed things. We were too impatient. We were too greedy for the Great King."
Anyway, for now, healing Nezumo was the top priority.
Even if the Great King desired the resumption of treatment, if Nezumo's right hand was swollen, he couldn't perform hand-waving treatment. Even so, Manam was slightly surprised that a sorcerer of Nezumo's caliber had his hand bitten.
—Alf Cedar.
The boy had introduced himself as such.
He was not a child who could be left alone. Manam thought it was necessary to consider a method of elimination.
Manam and Persa's predictions were correct.
Although Geraha did not trust the old men much, he decided to change his mind. He decided to receive treatment.
It was the night before the old men came to the tent.
Geraha had received hospitality from the Easterners.
Having enjoyed alcohol and food to his heart's content, Geraha was in a good mood. He had met Kirikiri's sons for the first time. There were three of them, and all three were fierce and short-tempered. However, they were not foolish. They were unexpectedly pleasant men. Geraha expressed his gratitude for being helped by the bravery of the Mukuri people. They all listened with proud faces.
Once his stomach was sufficiently full, Geraha apologized for his rudeness and left the gathering early. Being a busy man, he wanted to go to bed early.
—Then, I shall have a subordinate guide you.
One of Kirikiri's sons said. A Mukuri man with prominent tattoos came and urged Geraha forward.
"Your Majesty the Great King, please come this way."
He was guided to a tent that did not belong to Kosa. There too was a low table, and food and alcohol were prepared. Before he knew it, Geraha was alone. The guards who always followed him were watching from a short distance away.
"Now, please. Come inside."
"What is this?"
"Heh, I'll call the beauties in now."
That was the story.
Fuhaha, Geraha laughed. He was impressed by the mention of beauties.
"That is very thoughtful. However, I have a wife, you know."
"What are you saying? What happens here stays here!" the Mukuri man said glibly. "Now, now, please enter."
Geraha sat at the tent's low table without hesitation and began to drink alcohol.
Until this moment, to be honest, he had been excited. Geraha was young and exceptionally healthy. He had physical strength and an indomitable vigor. The desires of his lower abdomen poked him from below every day. Produce children, produce children, it said. The beauties must be courtesans. They probably had some proposal regarding this desire that tormented Geraha.
The beauties arrived shortly after.
The scent of flowers scattered within the tent. The scent of women seeped into Geraha's brain, which was already numb with alcohol. The high-pitched voices of the women seemed to resonate with and stimulate the parts of Geraha that could not be liberated.
Whether there were five women or six, he couldn't even tell. He was completely dazzled by their raiment-like costumes that tickled Geraha's nose. The women spoke to Geraha, the Great King, in a casual tone. Then, they would speak in a way that was almost too exaggeratedly humble. Geraha felt good, toyed with by the patterns of words the women spun.
Eventually, the women took off their costumes and were left in a single thin garment. Seeing the exposure of the women's bare upper arms and thighs, Geraha wore the face of a lustful man. This was exactly the development Geraha had expected. Soon, the women would surely cast off even the last thin garment and become completely naked.
But at the same time, a feeling of discomfort began to manifest within Geraha's chest.
Something was not right. He felt as if he were being underestimated, as if they were seeing through him.
There was nothing wrong with the women. The prankster Easterners who arranged this were not wrong either. Everyone wanted to please Geraha.
The one at fault was Geraha.
Surrounded by breathtaking semi-naked beauties, for some reason, his feelings grew cold. Even so, trying to keep his spirits up, Geraha tried to be a fool, tried to play the part of a simpleton.
The women were doing this much for him. If he couldn't become a fool here and expose himself, it would become a question of his capacity as a man.
However, once he had noticed the dissonance, the more he tried to negate it, the more he became conscious of it. Those present were a man and women in a strained relationship, meeting for the first time. The ugly man and the beautiful women had to get along, even if they had to force it. Whether it was a lie or an act, they had to make this occasion enjoyable regardless.
Once he thought that, Geraha felt that he had become a foreign object in this place. The oldest courtesan probably noticed Geraha's state.
"Um..." she said, her face turning almost pale.
"No, my apologies," Geraha laughed. "It seems I'm still lacking in training. You all are like celestial maidens, so beautiful that I can't seem to do this properly. But listen, let's get our stories straight here."
Geraha stood up and made a scary face.
"You all have entertained me sufficiently. I have enjoyed myself sufficiently. If anyone asks, I will answer that tonight was so. I want you all to answer the same way."
The women prostrated themselves.
His sexual desire withered away. Geraha left the tent and rejoined his guards. Once he was alone in his own tent, he couldn't help but think about the discomfort from before.
He thought he had had enough of such awkward times. Why did he feel so miserable?
He thought about various things, but they all led to one conclusion. In the end, it was the structural defect of Geraha's lower body—the fact that he could not embrace a woman. This made Geraha miserable. This cast a shadow over Geraha's private life.
If, hypothetically, Geraha could have led a married life with his sister-in-law Hishaku as other people do, what then? If he could have built an ordinary family, what would it be like?
For example, would the Easterners have done something like providing five or six courtesans to Geraha? While he is revered like a hero on the battlefield, when it comes to matters of men and women, Geraha is treated lightly, almost like a child.
Geraha is generally bad with women. In front of women, he becomes strongly conscious of his own ugliness, and Geraha becomes nervous. But if, just if.
If he could do ordinary things with Hishaku, wouldn't his aversion to women be reduced?
With this ugly face and pathetic body, he had decided for himself that he must not seek it.
Is that really true? Could not even he make his sister-in-law happy? Should he not?
The problem of the penis being too huge and injuring the female body would normally be impossible to solve. However, surprisingly, around Geraha there are sorcerers who boast that they can treat this.
Because they were untrustworthy old men, Geraha had kept the three of them at a distance.
But was that truly correct?
Had he not simply been running away, afraid to face the problem of his own lower body?
He cannot run forever. The time to face this problem has finally come. Is that not it?
While thinking, Geraha fell asleep.
The next day, Manam-grandfather and Persa-grandfather came before Geraha.
Hearing that Nezumo-grandfather had fallen ill, Geraha realized.
Nezumo is probably the only person in the world who can solve the problem of Geraha's lower body. Nezumo-grandfather is already quite long-lived, and the time remaining for him is not much.
—I shall receive treatment.
Geraha thought. Regarding the luck of having the three old men, he might have taken a slightly ungrateful attitude.
Even if the old men had wicked schemes, it was a matter of Geraha not losing to them. No, rather, if they had contributed, Geraha should grant the old men's wishes, and he should perhaps worry about that instead. He only felt a vague sense of suspiciousness; the old men had never actually caused any harm.
Regardless, by hardening his resolve for treatment, Geraha felt as if not only his heart but also his body had become lighter. He no longer had to worry about such a trivial thing.
Far from worrying, the more he thought about it, the more his spirits soared.
When he thought about being able to do this and that with his sister-in-law, an unbearable happiness welled up.
Not only that.
For example, even if beauties appeared for Eastern-style hospitality, it would be fine now. As long as the treatment went well, he would no longer be bewildered. What to do would surely be decided anyway. He wouldn't have to face awkward situations.
His outward appearance would also improve.
His sister-in-law Hishaku had once told Geraha to take a daughter of a good family and make her his primary consort.
Geraha remembered a single painting he looked at when he was alone. It was a portrait he received from Ludo Matinee.
—If I marry a royal daughter as beautiful as Luchentin Alish.
Those who make fun of Geraha would surely vanish. The princess of the Alish family has the beauty and status befitting the wife of the Empire. If he formed a family with the Kingdom of Siddim and Kosa, the surroundings would stabilize.
Thinking of that, Geraha felt that the loneliness he had felt since childhood could be comforted. Until now, he had only waited for his older brother Tenge, Astai, or his sister-in-law Hishaku to be kind to him.
It was about time he broke his own loneliness himself. The time had come not only to be treated kindly, but to be kind to someone.
I have become an adult, Geraha thought of himself.
He had become the Great King sooner, but the time had finally come for even a dull person like him to behave like an adult. It was time to have a family and seriously create something he could call his own country.
—Shall I return?
Geraha looked up at the sky and muttered to himself.
He thought it was about time he concerned himself with the conquest of Siddim.