I inserted the knife, cut away a single bone and all the meat that surrounded it, and sunk my teeth in. My mouth filled with the umami flavor of the meat and a saltiness that was just a little stronger than I expected. The mutton had a pretty distinctive smell and texture, and every time I bit into it, the flavor seemed to ooze out and really gave me the feeling that I was eating meat. The light and fluffy steamed buns had a mild flavor to them, and worked well to break up the meal, like white rice.
“This is great!”
“Ya, this one’s a winner.”
“Told you! Ah, it’s good eaten between bread, too.”
“Hm, I hadn’t thought about that.” I tore open one of the steamed buns and stuffed the boiled vegetables and some of the meat I’d cut off inside it. It was delicious.
But I thought this was a good point to take a break, and decided to broach the main topic. “By the way, there’s something I want to ask you, Bee.”
“Hm? What’s that?”
“Something’s come up, and… I want to know as much as possible about the Rust Mountains.”
“About the Rust Mountains?” Bee lifted her eyes from the boiled meat and knife in front of her and looked at me. “A poet’s poems aren’t free, bucko.
Gonna pay me for the info?” She grinned at me mischievously.
“P-Pay you? Umm…”
Menel spoke up before I could. “If we end up going to the Rust Mountains, you’ll be first to hear about what we got up to. Material for a brand-new adventure story. Sound good?”
“Okey-dokey, you’ve got a deal!” Bee nodded.
I had a bad habit of overthinking comments that weren’t meant to mean anything. I needed to learn to think on my feet more.
“That said, I really don’t know all that much.” Bee laid her knife next to the boiled mutton on the plate for the moment, and started to talk. “Two hundred years ago, the Rust Mountains were apparently called the Iron Mountains. And there used to be a country there called the Iron Country. It was the underground kingdom of the dwarves, the mountain-dwellers that are the minions of Blaze, god of fire and craft. It was a powerful country that made a name for itself during the Union Age.”
Bee continued. “But that was just another thing lost in the chaos of two hundred years ago. The dwarf lord in his halls of stone, along with many powerful warriors, died fighting in those mountains trying to hold back the demon invasion. Much blood was shed, many weapons lay scattered on the ground… and once the Iron Mountains became a den of demons, at some point they started being referred to as the Rust Mountains instead. That’s what I’ve heard.”
It represented the ruin of what iron once was, the pitiful wreckage of former glory, full of corroded weapons and the rusted, metallic smell of spilled blood.
“I don’t know the details of what happened in that battle,” she said. “There really is no info at all.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the dwarven warriors and the people of those mountains who fought to defend them were completely wiped out. And also…” Bee took a breath before continuing. “Because the fate of the dwarves who escaped their country was so cruel. You must know, Will, you sheltered some dwarven refugees about a year ago, right?”
I thought back to those people with exhausted eyes. They had been covered in mud, smelled foul, and had huge beards covering their sunken cheeks.
“It’s obvious what would happen to a people driven out of their homeland by war, right? That’s why they won’t tell me anything about the mountains that were once their home, or the last battle that happened there. It’s a hard, painful memory for them, one of tragedy and humiliation, but at the same time, their shared memories of glory are the single bond keeping them together and allowing them to hold onto their pride.”
Even though Bee had no instrument and was just talking off the cuff, there was a kind of power in the way she spoke. She had a flowing, sing-song voice that was pleasing to the ear, and she knew just how to pause to draw the listener in.
“So it’s a secret they keep hidden within themselves. No one who isn’t from the fallen Iron Country knows. So that’s all I can tell you. Sorry…” Bee gave an apologetic smile. “If you want to know anything else… I think there were dwarves who migrated to your river port, right?”
“Yeah.”
“They’d open up if you were the one asking, I think. No, I’m sure of it. If you keep what I said in mind.”
I nodded and smiled at her. “Thank you.”
I wondered how much of it they would tell me. While picturing the rugged faces of the dwarves, I thought about the prosperity and fall of that kingdom of mountain people.
After that, Bee said she would wander about singing her stories for a while longer, and Menel and I left her to it. We departed the city of Whitesails and headed south.
After a few days, we returned to Beast Woods, and stepped foot into the fairy trail.
Once again that strange scenery surrounded us, of day and night trading places at whirlwind speed, the forest wriggling, fairies whispering amongst each other, and horribly thick darkness. The tingle I felt down my spine was no different than the first time I’d done this. I walked cautiously through that place for about half a day, the sense of awe and fear never leaving me.
We passed through a strange ring of light that was the way out of the fairy trail, and our field of view opened up. I felt wind blowing towards me. I took a moment to get my bearings, and realized that it was dusk, and I was standing on top of a hill.
An endless number of trees stood tall, and beyond them an orange sun was setting in a red sky. The sky around me had started to turn the color of night, and I could just make out the twinkling of the stars. There was forest as far as my eyes could see, and a vast river snaking through it.
I shifted my gaze and saw that straddling that great river was a ruined city of two colors: a dull gray, and the green of clinging plants. And nestled right next to it was an expanse of soft-red brick roofs and white plaster. It was a living city, with people coming and going through it.
A long time ago, after I had that battle with the god of undeath and said goodbye to my parents, I followed this river from the city of the dead downstream to the north. It was there, before meeting Menel, that I had seen a half-submerged city, and at this very moment, human hands were hard at work redeveloping it.
“Looking at it like this, it’s gotten pretty big,” Menel said in a murmur.
“Yeah. It’s grown quite a lot in just two years.”
We talked about it as we made our way down the hill and said hello to the people we passed as we walked through the sunset streets.
We found Tonio near the harbor, talking about something with a warehouse keeper. Noticing us, he cut his discussion short, gave us a brief wave, and came over.
“Welcome back, both of you.”
“Thank you!”
“You’ve returned considerably earlier than I was expecting. Is the abnormal
—”
“Safely resolved. We’re done with our report to the duke as well.”
Tonio looked at us in amazement.
Menel and I looked at each other and laughed conspiringly.
“Goodness, you truly are frightening. What trick did you use this time?”
“A secret elementalist trick,” Menel said. “Might not be much use for business, though. It’s not suited for transporting stuff.”
“It sounds useful for gathering information, however. I’d very much like to hear the details from you later, if you’d be willing to share.”