Chapter 46
After resting a hand on the table, Tarmin got straight to the point.
“I’m sorry to come without warning, but to be direct, I need Father’s bow.”
“Miss, what’s your name?”
“I’m Enya…”
To be precise, she was being ignored.
“Hmm, Enya. You came from Quaalid, I take it?”
“Y-Yes!”
“And who am I?”
“O-Oh, Father-in-law… I called you that without thinking. I’m sorry!”
His father smiled warmly at the girl his son had brought with him.
“There’s no need to apologize. You can call me Father-in-law. My dear daughter-in-law.”
“D-Daughter-in-law!?”
“You called me Father-in-law, didn’t you?”
Enya squirmed awkwardly.
Tarmin couldn’t bear to watch any longer and raised his hand.
Clearing his throat, he spoke again.
“Ahem! Father. Enough of that. Could you listen to your son for a moment…?”
“I have to ask. What is it you like about my son? …Heh, I never thought I’d hear myself say something like this. What an honor.”
The hand reaching between the two of them came to an abrupt stop.
The question had piqued his interest, so he lowered his hand for a moment and glanced at Enya.
She’d expected him to stop his father, but when she met his expectant gaze, she was thoroughly flustered.
After hesitating for a long while at the father and son’s audacity, she lowered her head and finally said,
“…I think you’re handsome because you look like Father-in-law.”
“Really? Hahaha! Tarmin really did get lucky with his father.”
It was a rather clichéd way of flattering the listener on purpose, but that alone seemed enough to delight his father.
Tarmin didn’t feel bad about it either, and was smiling faintly, when Enya’s lips began to move.
He couldn’t make out what she was saying, so he leaned closer.
Her soft breath tickled his ear.
“…dead.”
“Hm? What was that, Enya?”
“You’re dead when we get back.”
…”
It felt as if ice had run down his spine.
Tarmin cleared his throat and looked away from Enya.
He hurriedly cut off his father, who was about to press her further.
“So, what was it that first made you like my son…?”
“That’s enough teasing, Father.”
His father looked at Tarmin with displeasure.
“What? Didn’t you bring your bride here to introduce her?”
He thought he heard a sharp little squeak from beside him.
His father, whom he hadn’t seen in years, still looked as relaxed and strong as ever.
Tarmin straightened his back, trying not to be overwhelmed by his presence.
“She’s not my bride. Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn’t a meeting between the families. You heard what I said, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I heard. You damn brat. You want my bow? You came to take away your own father’s livelihood?”
His father grumbled and disappeared into the kitchen.
When his father returned, he was carrying a small leather flask and cups instead of a bow.
He pulled out the stopper and tilted it. White fermented mare’s milk liquor flowed out.
The distinctive, rich smell of fermented milk filled the house, and Tarmin wrinkled his nose.
His gaze naturally turned to the doorway, where the knights were waiting outside.
“Father, I’m sorry to bring this up again, but given the circumstances, it’s not really a good time to drink.”
“It’s practically a beverage. If you get drunk on this, you’re no man.”
His father set a cup in front of Tarmin as well and poured.
Tarmin gave a small sigh, then accepted the cup politely.
“Thank you.”
Tarmin took a sip, confirmed that it was indeed a mild drink, then passed the cup to Enya.
Enya accepted the cup and timidly took a small sip.
His father watched the two of them for a moment, then smiled gently.
“Hahaha…”
At that moment, the immense weariness hidden beneath the years etched into his father’s face came into view.
It was a face he had never once seen on the man who had always been the perfect hunter.
He seemed to be rapidly growing old, as if time had begun collecting its debt from him.
He looked so fragile that even a slight shock might shatter him.
“Father?”
As Tarmin watched in alarm, his father drained his cup and then spoke.
“You’re finally longing for something again, Tarmin.”
His father once more wore the face of a hunter.
**
Outside the cabin, Ivar looked at his superior.
Lise was leaning against the ocher-colored stone wall, lost in thought.
Apart from the long military sword at her hip, Lise looked like an ordinary, pretty young girl.
Ivar hesitated, cleared his throat several times, then spoke to Lise.
“Um, Lady Lise, is it really all right for us to just stand by like this?”
“Hm? Ivar, if you need to use the restroom, go inside…”
“N-No! That’s not what I meant. I was wondering if it was all right for us to just stand by like this.”
Lise tilted her head.
Her tied-up auburn hair fell over her shoulder.
She looked at Ivar and said,
“Do you think Tarmin can hurt me?”
Ivar shook his head with conviction.
“I think that’s impossible. But even if Tarmin isn’t a threat, the centaurs are tracking us, aren’t they? Shouldn’t we ask for reinforcements?”
“Reinforcements? We’re in Akhraba. How would we call for help?”
“If necessary, shouldn’t we at least inform the people here? What if the Hero were to fall into the hands of heretics?”
It was hard to imagine, but a Hero’s party made up of centaurs might come into being.
At Ivar’s concern, Lise’s eyes widened.
“That’s an interesting thought, but I think we can handle around twenty centaurs.”
“That’s true, but…”
Lise gave a small sigh, then said,
“Ivar, I’m actually waiting for the centaurs to cross these walls. That way, the Hero will come running to us. Does that explain it?”
"Sorry. I understand."
Even after hearing her answer, Ivar was still on edge.
An inexplicable unease was throwing his senses into disarray.
**
His father set down his empty cup with a clack.
“You refused to inherit the bow once before.”
Tarmin tilted his head slightly.
“Pardon? Did I? I don’t remember.”
“You did. Do you remember what you were like when you came back after failing the Hero’s adventure?”
“What?”
He was startled by a story from the past he no longer even thought about.
It wasn’t a pleasant memory, and it wasn’t one he wanted to bring up with the Hero right there.
Had he refused the bow back then?
Perhaps the drink was starting to affect his father, because he continued.
“After giving up on the adventure and coming home, you were utterly devastated. You acted as if you’d realized all your efforts in life had been meaningless, and you fell in with all sorts of lowlifes. When some greenhorn started prattling on about life, I couldn’t take it anymore and beat him half to death.”
“Ha, ahaha…”
Recalling his youthful foolishness made his face burn with embarrassment.
Feeling a cold sweat break out on his back, he looked away from Enya.
The citizens of Quaalid must have thought it absurd, seeing a boy with not a trace of a beard wandering around with the expression of someone whose world had ended.
His first bout of aimless wandering after a failure had been brought to a swift end by his father’s violent guidance.
“What is a Hero, anyway? What is a Hero’s hunter? I don’t know. But after that, you kept wandering the hunting grounds, sinking deeper into gloom.”
…
When Tarmin fell silent, his father smiled.
“But perhaps that’s the greatness of time. Now you’re volunteering to inherit the bow, rushing because time is running out, staying away from drink to protect your daughter-in-law, and keeping an eye on the guests outside. Are they enemies?”
His father’s voice was low and calm, but an undercurrent of cruelty writhed at its edge.
It was a good chance for Tarmin to change this uncomfortable subject.
He quickly hardened his expression and replied,
“There’s a good chance they are.”
“Should we kill them now?”
Tarmin shook his head.
It wasn’t a denial of the possibility, but a judgment that the act itself would be pointless.
“I think it would only mean someone else took the gatekeeper’s place.”
Tarmin recalled the conversation between Lise and Enya in the caravan.
The two of them were merely the knights’ vanguard, not their fighting force.
The goal was not simply to eliminate them, but to acquire the means to stand against them.
So he could continue to help the Hero.
So that no one would dare lay a hand on Enya.
“I see. So you need the family bow, not my help? So you can shoot whoever comes, whenever they come.”
“Yes.”
“Understood. I’ll get it. Wait a little.”
His father rose, gathered the cups, and disappeared inside.
After a brief silence, Tarmin let out a sigh of relief.
“…Phew.”
Tarmin exhaled and relaxed the tension in his body a little.
It was a rather grim thought, but Tarmin figured that, if he weren’t his father’s son, his father would be the person he’d most want to avoid.
It was a thought that came to him whenever his father showed his outlaw side.
He leaned back comfortably against the table and turned his head.
He wondered if Enya was angry that he’d stopped trying to help and started teasing her instead. When he looked, he saw tears welling in her eyes, as if they might spill at the slightest touch.
Startled, he put a hand on her shoulder.
“Huh? Enya, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Enya spoke through her tears.
“Taal, sob, you had such a hard time. I didn’t know.”
“Huh? What are you talking about all of a sudden… Ah.”
The flustered Tarmin soon realized why.
It was because of what his father had just said about him being devastated.
“N-No. Father was exaggerating.”
He hurriedly stroked Enya’s head, but it seemed to backfire; tears streamed down her cheeks instead.
Tarmin flailed his arms in dismay.
Maybe it really had been painful back then, but now that she was crying over it, he didn’t know what to do.
Besides, wasn’t he the Hero’s hunter again now?
“And I didn’t even know, sob, I thought you were just living comfortably…”
“Good grief, you’re crying over that? I can’t even tell who the crybaby is anymore.”
He joked, reaching out with his sleeve to wipe away her tears.
He wanted to somehow make her stop, but Enya only seemed to gather momentum and was about to burst into loud sobs.
Tarmin thought for a moment, then spread his arms.
“Enya. Come here.”
“…Okay?”
Enya’s eyes widened a little as she glanced around.
As if remembering where they were, she blinked her big eyes.
But soon her eyes welled up again, and she threw herself into Tarmin’s arms.
He might have to let his father see, but he had no time to think about it.
He held her close until she stopped crying.
*****