Chapter 21: Peaches
When Alan woke up the next morning, he found that Little Green had already returned to normal.
Its vines had stretched out again, its leaves plump and deep green. When Alan reached out to touch it, it nuzzled up to him happily just like before. Aside from the will of its main body, there was nothing in the entire Green River valley that could have turned dragon vine into the freakish state it had been in the night before—now it was simply back to normal.
“You’re feeling better, right?”
Alan checked on Little Green and saw that it had finished all the honey water he’d put in yesterday.
However, there were now some hard-to-explain marks on the jewelry box, resembling bite marks.
Other than that, Little Green looked perfectly fine.
Alan let out a soft laugh, feeling relieved by Little Green’s healthy, lively state. At the same time, though, he felt a faint sense of trouble—he’d lost a perfectly reasonable excuse to go look for Veles.
He paced around the room a few times. Given his usual timid personality, he ought to stay in his own territory like a snail, quietly waiting for time to wash away and dilute last night’s awkwardness.
But whenever Veles was involved, things always seemed to slip beyond his control.
Alan himself didn’t really understand what this restless, uneasy feeling filling his body was all about.
“Ugh… I must have completely lost my head.”
The young mage once again regretted his impulsiveness from the night before. In his bitter mood, he reluctantly made a small batch of potato-and-egg pancakes.
It was a very simple, rustic dish.
Onions sautéed in butter until slightly translucent, and potatoes cooked until soft, were mixed with eggs and various spices—black pepper and oregano, of course, along with fresh arugula just picked from the garden, plus some chopped asparagus and oil-packed tomatoes. The beaten eggs were poured over everything, and the mixture was pan-fried in a heavy iron skillet with plenty of butter until the surface turned lightly golden, ready to be eaten.
Of course, even in his distracted state, Alan didn’t forget to stuff the potato-and-egg pancake with plenty of cheese in the middle.
This kind of potato-and-egg pancake actually tasted even better once it had cooled. With a single bite, you could savor the thick, delicate, and soft potato filling, while the other ingredients added layers of texture—some juicy, some crisp—rich and varied. It was far better than those dry, flavorless hard biscuits that stuck in your throat.
“After running around the deep forest for so long, Mr. Veles should like this, right?”
Alan carefully wrapped the potato-and-egg pancake in oiled paper, murmuring softly to himself as he slipped a small handful of dried fruit into the bundle as well.
Then he took a deep breath, hugged the food-filled package to his chest, and headed toward Veles’s home.
He admitted to himself that he was being a little calculating. On the way, he had already planned exactly what he would say when he saw Veles—
‘Sorry, Mr. Veles. I accidentally made too much while preparing breakfast, and this kind of potato-and-egg pancake is quite good even when eaten cold. I thought you wouldn’t mind having it as your lunch? I also put some dried fruit inside—all of it dried by me, with a bit of honey added, good for replenishing sugar. Oh, and I’d also like to apologize for my abruptness last night. I really hope I didn’t offend you. I didn’t mean to—I’m not the sort of person who acts frivolously. I’m truly very sorry—’
The words he kept repeating in his mind suddenly broke off.
The low-powered country mage stopped in his tracks, staring blankly at his surroundings as his face gradually drained of color.
If he hadn’t been so focused on rehearsing his apology over and over in his head, he probably would have noticed it earlier: he had been stopped outside the forest by a spell labyrinth.
Yes—exactly the same one he had encountered before, belonging to Veles.
Alan’s eyes widened as he checked again in disbelief. Before him was what looked like an ordinary forest path: a narrow trail winding between dense trees and low shrubs. Behind him was his own perfectly ordinary little cabin in the woods.
He had walked for so long, yet from beginning to end, he had never actually left the area around his house.
Veles had sealed off the domain around his home.
Several dragon vines seemed to sense Alan’s arrival. They dropped their camouflage and poked their heads out from the trees with soft rustling sounds. Most of them only revealed the very tips of their leaves—drooping, dull in color, listless.
Alan tried to move closer to them, but in the very next second, the dragon vines that had been as warm and enthusiastic as big dogs just moments ago suddenly whisked back into the shade of the trees.
A faint breeze passed through the undergrowth, and from the shadows came the soft susurration of leaves.
Under the influence of the spell labyrinth, Alan had no way of finding them again within the forest.
It felt to Alan as though someone had punched him squarely in the chest.
He talked himself into believing that it was probably because of the recent frequent disturbances in the deep forest; for the sake of safety, Veles had sealed off his home again, just as he had when he first arrived.
Or perhaps Veles simply wasn’t home at the moment and had forgotten to lift the spell restriction placed on Alan.
That was perfectly normal. He could just ask about it casually the next time he saw Mr. Veles.
Alan bit his lip, hugged his bundle tighter, and turned to leave that stretch of forest.
He did his best to calmly digest what had happened.
Alan was definitely not the kind of sheltered, pampered young noble mage who had never faced wind or rain. After all, on this continent, the weaker and more insignificant a mage’s magic power was, the harsher the reality they faced.
Occasionally, merely passing through the territory of unfriendly magical creatures—just passing through—could be enough to be swallowed by terrifying traps. Illusions, flames, poison gas… any one of them could be fatal. More than once, Alan had nearly died in such spell traps.
Yet none of those traps that had nearly killed him had ever hurt Alan as much as Veles’s spell labyrinth, which could almost be called gentle.
A vast wave of disappointment still came crashing down on him like a tsunami, nearly leaving him unable to breathe.
For the rest of the day, Alan drifted through his hours in a daze. He went to Green River Village again, cast spells to drive away insects gnawing at the crops for several villagers, and reblessed the soil.
And it had to be said—he made quite a few mistakes that day.
One incorrect chant caused the tomatoes in Mrs. Dora’s garden to start multiplying at an alarming rate. Layer upon layer of tomatoes piled up until they crushed the fence around her vegetable patch. Worst of all, the tomatoes’ flavor changed as well: they tasted like prunes—sweet and tart. They were delicious, certainly, but that wasn’t how tomatoes were supposed to taste. On top of that, he accidentally enlarged several butterflies. Under normal circumstances they were nothing more than ordinary cabbage whites, but when they grew to the size of small dogs, they became nothing short of a disaster.
Of course, the villagers of Green River Village didn’t really mind Alan’s mishaps that day. Mrs. Dora cheerfully declared that she had always liked prunes anyway, and that she had long found the fence in her yard an eyesore. As for the dog-sized butterflies, they became toys for the village children. Watching human children swarm around those things was truly a nightmare—fortunately, the effects of the magic faded quickly.
Compared to the minor troubles Alan had caused, the villagers seemed more concerned about his state of mind.
“Oh, poor Alan, you look like you’re about to burst into tears.”
After Alan had finally managed to clean up the mess he’d made and was dragging his feet as he prepared to leave Green River Village, Mrs. Pan called out to him, speaking with obvious concern.
“Oh, no, I just didn’t sleep very well…”
Alan forced himself to sound lively as he explained. He admitted he was a bit off his game, but he still felt that Mrs. Pan was exaggerating how dejected he looked.
“My dear, your eyes may be dry, but I can see just how sad you are!”
Mrs. Pan completely ignored Alan’s explanation. She pulled him into a tight hug, then stuffed his pockets full of the jerky she’d made and several heavy peaches.
Like all the villagers of Green River Village, in Mrs. Pan’s eyes there was no problem that food couldn’t solve.
In the end, all Alan could do was put on a stiff smile and stagger home under the weight of his many bundles.
—There was no problem that food couldn’t solve.
He sat in his dimly lit house, staring at the table piled high with jerky and peaches, Mrs. Pan’s words of comfort echoing again and again in his mind.
“This is really stupid.”
Muttering to himself, he gathered the peaches—still warm with the lingering heat of the sun, giving off a rich, sweet fragrance—into his arms.
He sprang to his feet and rushed out the door, heading straight for Veles’s cabin.
The sun had already set. Mr. Veles might have returned by now.
And if he had, perhaps he would remember that he’d forgotten to lift the spell labyrinth during the day.
That was what Alan told himself.
…
Then, once again, he was stopped outside the ranger’s cabin by the forest.
“…”
Alan stood there for a while.
All the emotions that had built up over an entire night and a full day seemed to congeal in his chest into a massive stone, bristling with sharp edges. At this moment, that stone replaced his heart, pressing heavily downward inside his body.
“Mr. Veles?”
His voice hoarse, he called out from the edge of the forest.
He received no response from the silver-eyed man, yet Alan had a strong intuition that Veles was right there on the other side of the woods—the man simply didn’t want to acknowledge him.
Instead, a few dragon vines poked their heads out again, looking even more listless than they had during the day.
Their vines drooped as they cautiously brushed against Alan’s ankles, thick and light at the same time, before quickly shrinking back.
“Wait!”
Alan called after them.
He took a deep breath, then held out the peaches in his arms toward the dragon vines.
“Could you please help me pass this on to Mr. Veles? I think he must be in a bad mood right now… I—I’m truly sorry for offending him last night. Please take these peaches as my apology. I never meant to damage whatever friendship there is between us—if our brief acquaintance can even be called a friendship at all.”
Alan spoke the last sentence very softly and indistinctly. For some reason, he was reminded of the disdain he’d received back when he was still an adventurer, a rookie mage looked down upon by others.
The leisurely atmosphere of Green River Village really had made him duller.
Someone as obviously extraordinary as Veles might not want to form any so-called friendship with a clumsy country mage.
Of course, Alan didn’t think Veles was that kind of unpleasant person—but the spell labyrinth in front of him still made him sad.
“If he’s calmed down, I hope we can still have a drink together.”
In the end, Alan nevertheless forced himself to smile bitterly as he said this to the dragon vines.
And that very night, just before falling asleep, Alan suddenly heard a faint sound coming from the window.
He opened the door and saw an entire basket of game on his porch: several wild chicks already cleaned and dressed, a plump wild rabbit, green lemon leaves beloved by all mages, and, of course, raspberries.
Bright red raspberries, dusted with a thin layer of white frost—the kind Veles had once mentioned to him, the kind the treants carefully hid away.
Delicate frost magic ran steadily within a basket forged from mithril, tiny diamonds glittering with starlike sparks in the dim yellow light of the country cottage.
Cradling the priceless basket in his arms, Alan could faintly sense the presence that belonged to Veles alone.
A note hung from the edge of the basket, the handwriting somewhat ugly—hesitant, with ink blots dotted along the strokes.
‘I wasn’t angry.’
The instant he saw the note, Alan suddenly felt as though he could breathe again. The heavy stone weighing on his heart dissolved in a flash into a gentle breeze.
But…
If you weren’t angry, then why didn’t you show yourself?
Alan wanted to ask Veles.
Carrying that confusion with him, he was just about to turn back into the house with the basket in his arms when he suddenly felt as though someone was watching him.
The gaze was gentle yet scorching, making the fine hairs along Alan’s spine stand slightly on end.
Maybe Veles hadn’t failed to appear at all—maybe he was hiding nearby, secretly watching him. The absurd thought flashed through Alan’s mind.
And before his rational mind could kick in, his body had already moved on its own.
Like anyone who, half-asleep, trips over their own feet, Alan suddenly lost his balance. His arms were still full with the heavy mithril basket, and he pitched straight toward the ground.
Of course, even if he fell like this, it wouldn’t really matter. He was standing on the porch, and there were only a few steps beside him. Falling down them wouldn’t be enough to break a mage’s neck—at worst, it would hurt a bit and be somewhat embarrassing.
In the next second, a dark figure burst out of the shadows.
Swift as lightning, precise in every movement, he caught the small, black-haired mage in his arms.
But immediately after that, Alan’s clear, ringing voice cut through the dusky purple night.
“Got you!”
Alan abruptly reached back and wrapped his arms around a man’s arm. Given the disparity in their strength, he practically used every ounce of his body, wishing he could embed himself entirely in the other’s embrace.
The man still carried the cold, damp chill of night dew. The moment Alan held onto him, his body stiffened instantly, turning as rigid as stone.
This was the Silver Reaper who could effortlessly harvest top-tier magical beasts, a terrifying weapon with monster blood in his veins—yet under Alan’s hold, he didn’t dare move at all, even his tail held rigidly taut.
Only the very tip of that tail, trembling faintly, betrayed the man’s true emotions.
“Mr. Veles.”
Alan tilted his head up and met the silver eyes beneath the cloak. The pupils had contracted until they were nothing more than thin slits, making their owner look even more like some kind of wild beast—or rather, a monster.
Yet to Alan, those eyes were so beautiful that they made his heart pound wildly. He didn’t even realize that his voice now carried a trace of smug satisfaction.
“Were the peaches good?”
He said this to Veles.
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Author’s Note:
‘I don’t want to eat peaches—I only want to eat you.’ —by Veles
