The Porter Has No Interest in the Hero’s Party

The shovel stuck vertically, splitting the mountain in front of me in half. Sitting in front of the round grave, I wiped the sweat flowing from my forehead and fiddled with a liquor bottle.

[Dogref]

I remembered being told it was quite an expensive liquor in the kingdom. The subtle fragrance flowing through the bottle was flaunting its worth. I was now lost in thought, handling the liquor bottle in front of the graves of nameless ones. I had intended to use it when I returned to the Empire, but with the kingdom and Empire entering negotiations, the day this liquor would enter the Empire seemed distant.

Rather than rotting in my bag, it might be an honor for the liquor to become an offering for the deceased in this place. With that thought, I poured the bottle and roughly sprinkled it toward the grave. The soil hit by the alcohol became soaked in a deep brown color, then hastily absorbed it and regained its original color.

I roughly shook the half-remaining bottle and, after contemplating, tilted it obliquely intending to pour it into my mouth.

“May I have a sip too? It seems you’re drinking expensive liquor.”

From behind my shoulder, I heard Ashuria’s voice. Like anyone else in this village now, she came staggering with a very tired face. While the hero, myself, and others had done physical labor, Ashuria and other clergy members had taken on the task of mourning the path of the dead and giving final prayers.

The sadistic and violent Ashuria I had been thinking of was a kind cleric to the dead.

“I don’t have a cup, though.”

I said, passing the bottle.

“That’s fine.”

Ashuria said that and poured the bottle I had given her. She tilted her head and poured in the liquor to the extent I was anxious she might drink it all, then wiped her lips and passed the bottle back to me. Despite the upward neck movement, quite a lot of liquor remained, and Ashuria looked at the grave with a frown.

“People without relatives. I heard there are many places where entire families were annihilated because they couldn’t evacuate in time.”

“A terrible tragedy.”

I said that and poured in the liquor. I had heard that expensive liquor has a unique taste, but that seemed to be a lie. The liquor tasted rough and bitter like wood, and gave off a subtle fruit scent like water that had washed fruit.

I frowned and muttered to myself:

“I bought it because they said it was expensive…”

“They say once you get used to that woody taste, you can’t look for any other liquor. There’s also a saying that if you eat it with sweet snacks, it feels like being in a forest.”

“I didn’t know you enjoyed drinking, Ashuria. We’ve had drinking sessions a few times, but you were always quiet, weren’t you?”

It seemed I hadn’t seen her skillfully downing liquor like today or talking about liquor. If Ashuria attended a drinking session, she would match the atmosphere, but she had never proactively talked about liquor or said she liked it. The relationship between her and liquor was similar to the distance between an ordinary believer and a heretic inquisitor.

“I don’t really like it. But at times like this, don’t you want to taste something bitter?”

‘Times like this’ was an expression that could be represented by countless graves and the vertically thrust shovel. I nodded and took the remaining liquor. In the meantime, Ashuria made the sign of the cross on her chest, then knelt on the ground and prayed.

I was newly reminded of the scene where she checked the pulse at an assassin’s neck after taking off her shoes because she disliked getting them dirty. I said to Ashuria:

“Ashuria.”

Ashuria finished her prayer and stood up. She brushed off the straw and soil stuck to her knees, stretched, and then sat down beside me again and answered:

“What is it?”

“In the lands of the Empire people too, will you pray like this?”

Ashuria tilted her head as if wondering why I was asking such a thing and said:

“Of course. The death of Empire people is still death.”

“So, even if there’s a tremendous sinner among the Empire people, would you pray for his death?”

“Even for a heretic, I can offer prayers, but since I can’t gauge what kind of tremendous sin you’re referring to, I can’t give you a definite answer. God is fair and just, but I, who act on His behalf, am shamefully not a flawless and fair being.”

“I see.”

I nodded. I didn’t say more because I didn’t want to continue this conversation. In the sudden silence that came, Ashuria examined my expression and added:

“If it’s a situation where my prayer is absolutely necessary, I am willing to give it. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

I laughed at those words. I didn’t expect Ashuria to give such gentle words. When I suddenly laughed out loud in front of the grave, it was Ashuria who was bewildered. Fortunately, the sound didn’t spread far, so no one was looking at us.

Ashuria looked around and said:

“We’re in front of a grave.”

“…I’m sorry. I just find myself laughing.”

The atmosphere changed with laughter. Ashuria spoke again in a calm tone:

“What will you do after capturing the Demon King?”

“I’m thinking of farming. A farmer who caught the Demon King. Isn’t that cool?”

Ashuria looked me up and down at my words, then shook her head and said:

“It seems like a waste.”

“A sturdy body should be used for farming. What’s more productive than farming?”

“For example, there’s a church punisher. A job with little work, but decent pay.”

I didn’t bother to ask. Just from the name, I could guess why Ashuria brought up such a job. But Ashuria wouldn’t tolerate me hiding my curiosity.

“Aren’t you going to ask what kind of job it is?”

“…I’m not curious.”

“Nuns or priests who believe they have sinned often volunteer to receive punishment to reflect on and repent for their sins. For these people, with a whip…”

It was a story I didn’t want to hear more of. Ashuria had a characteristic of revealing her nature and frightening me just when I was beginning to think she was a good person. As I shook my head, Ashuria started laughing instead.

It was a very small sound, but I could tell that she was smiling broadly and laughing in front of the grave. I stopped shaking my head and couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback by her laughter. After laughing quietly for a while, she shook her head and said:

“It was a joke. Even I wouldn’t recommend such a job. It’s a job with severe mental stress and high retirement rates, how could I ask a party member to do such a thing?”

“Ah… It was a joke? I thought you were serious.”

“You seemed down, so I was trying to cheer you up. How about it, do you feel a bit more motivated now?”

“Thanks to you, I’m wide awake. I think I’ve even forgotten the taste of the liquor I just drank.”

“Since you said it was bad-tasting liquor, isn’t that fortunate? You should thank me.”

Ashuria said that and got up, dusting herself off. Then she patted my shoulder and said:

“It’s not something to say now, but we will have to face many more deaths in the future. How can you, who has always been bright, be so downcast? You’re the only one who can casually offer comfort to the hero.”

A fair hand reached toward me. A hand that seemed weak to pleasure and pain, but beneath had a warm heart for the poor and the weak, gently extending toward me. I grasped that hand firmly and said:

“I understand.”

The last person to pay respects at the graves of those who had fallen to the demon stones was Mille. Mille, who had excellently performed surveillance of the surroundings with the archers, prayed with tears in front of the graves, and people whispered to each other as if seeing an elf cry for the first time.

“What, an elf is shedding tears?”

“And praying for the dead?”

“Look at that. She’s genuinely sad.”

For them, it seemed more surprising that an elf was shedding tears than the fact that the hero had prayed for them and the villagers. I asked Lena in a small voice:

“Don’t elves normally have funerals or something?”

Lena said:

“I don’t know if the other elf I saw was an oddball. According to him, if elves die without a will, whoever takes their belongings first becomes the owner. After distributing everything except the cost of digging a grave, they draw lots to decide who will bury the corpse.”

“Uh… Um, that’s unique.”

Since Mille was praying nearby, I couldn’t express anything else. The hero was also glancing at me and Lena with a complicated expression, but only bowed his head as if unable to bring up any conversation in this atmosphere.

“Sob…! Sob…! So pitiful…!”

And after hearing about elves, it was true that I was curious about Mille.

Just what kind of education did Mille receive among those elves to become a relatively sensitive and kind elf? Who taught Mille?

No one answered, and the funeral concluded at a timing when questions couldn’t be asked. The bereaved families shared their grief and boarded carts, and we also got on our carriage. The hero, who had been standing in front of the graves until the end, patted Mille’s head, who was tightly holding his clothes, and said:

“Let’s go back, everyone.”

It was time to go back.

To the kingdom.