Chapter 175 The Land of Vasmoria

As he looked at his own body, he only found scars on his side and thigh from before he obtained the undying blood. Though there were cuts left past his black vest and gray tunic beneath, which he wasn’t worried about.

I’m immortal now, then?…I should be happy about this, but…I’m not. I’d give it up for him to come back. Besides…I hardly think I’m immortal; Vandread mentioned it before that enough injuries would get to him, he thought.

A sigh left his lips as he fiddled with the fabric ring on his finger and the dragon-symboled necklace he wore, reminded of those he’d encountered on this arduous journey.

It’ll be over soon. I’m almost there–the Guild Foundation, he thought.

–

What followed was a much needed time of quiet leisure through the calm valleys of Milligarde; brief stops were taken by crystal-clear springs to collect water, and Roan swiftly hunted wildlife for them to sustain themselves with.

A few nights were taken to camp out, though to Emilio, he hardly remembered such times as he was preoccupied with his own thoughts, constantly thinking as though there was a better way to have gone through the predicament in Larundog.

Sitting in front of a campfire on a starry night in a quiet valley, occupied only by herds of trees and timid forest critters, he sat across from Roan while Melisande was already fast asleep, lightly snoring.

He silently removed an object from his pocket, holding the special coin he carried as he fiddled with it while holding an absent look in his eyes.

“I was surprised you still had that,” Roan said, sipping from a canteen.

“Yeah,” he replied.

Roan seemed to understand well what was brewing in the boy’s mind through that disconnected look in his eyes.

“You’re beating yourself up about Vandread, aren’t you?” Roan asked.

“–” Emilio was silent, flipping the coin in his hand.

“We all end up thinking adventuring is filled with joy and triumph, but people hardly hear the bards sing of the gloomy parts, right?” Roan said with a small smile, “If anybody knew what adventuring entailed, it was Vandread. He understood his life was on the line with every mission–”

“That still doesn’t mean he should’ve died just because I was weak!” Emilio burst out, “…This only happened because I couldn’t handle myself. He…told me, no–forced me to stay outside the city because he knew I was too weak for what was in there. What did I do?…I didn’t listen. I thought I was strong enough. I was wrong. It was because I didn’t listen that he’s dead now.”

There were already tears in his tears as a single tear strolled down his cheek after letting out what he had been holding in.

Roan stared at him for a minute as if making sure he was done talking before calmly continuing, using a stick to move the firewood around to bolster the warm flames, “If you want to blame yourself, go ahead.”

“–” Emilio looked at him, confused by that direct response.

“I’ve experienced that same anger at yourself that you’re experiencing right now–that deep, dark pit of self-deprecation; it led to me growing. I blamed myself for what happened ‘that day’ and forced myself to get stronger. Sure, it was an effective motivator, but…at some point I realized all I was doing was trying to distract myself, and not face the truth of it,” Roan spoke to him softly.

“The truth?…”

Roan looked at him, “It happens. It’s that simple. Right now you’re still inexperienced, young, and with a bright future ahead of you. Mistakes are bound to happen.”

“Mistakes?…Mistakes aren’t causing somebody to die–”

“That’s where you’ve got it wrong,” Roan interrupted him.

“…Wrong?” Ren looked at him.

“Vandread was the kind of man who only acted when he was certain of what he was doing; he was cautious and always aware of many possibilities. Most of our peers always mistakenly thought he was the way he was because he feared death, but that’s wrong: he simply wanted to make sure no lives were unnecessarily lost,” Roan told him, “What I’m saying is…If Vandread gave his life in exchange for yours, it was a choice he made with a lot of thought into it. It means he arrived at the conclusion that he valued your life more than his own. Are you saying that doesn’t mean anything, Emilio?”

“But…How would he…?”

Emilio was hardly able to form the words in his throat as he was left perplexed by Roan’s words. Somehow, though it cooled his own self-deprecating anger, it made his heart ache even more.

“Even if you made mistakes, in the end, he decided it was you that needed to live. That was his choice. The question is, will you accept that?” The red-haired adventurer asked.

Pondering it, Emilio didn’t answer, though he already knew deep down inside, feeling the blood gifted to him flowing through his veins, that this was the truth.

When it’s all said and done, I don’t have a choice, do I? He thought.

–

Over the course of the next few days, he made it his mission to accept the gift of life given to him, and to strive to improve, though it was difficult as he still felt an immense guilt emanating from within.

“We’re here–this is Vasmoria,” Roan told the two from the front.

Both Melisande and himself looked out from the carriage, finding the wooden transport rolling over a bridge that passed by a massive canyon, separating the two countries as the clear fields of Milligarde now led into a densely packed forest that was the entrance to Vasmoria–the ‘Kingdom of Magic.”

The trees of the forest were colossal, bearing sapphire leaves that sprinkled a calm pollen down onto the natural grounds; critters of the foreign land had colorful coats of fur, one such species resembling a red-furred squirrel, though the size of a dog.

“This is Vasmoria…?” Melisande said in awe, “It’s beautiful.”

Roan spoke from the coach seat, guiding the horses that drove the carriage, “This is Magul Forest–it’s a backway entrance, so to speak, used by adventurers for ease-of-access since it can be a hassle to get through the border sometimes.”

In all rights, it was captivating; sunlight was hardly able to pierce through the ceiling of sapphire leaves, allowing the main source of light to be the slightly-glowing pollen that fell from the trees unique to this land.

…This is it. I finally made it, Emilio thought.

Compared to Milligarde, which had fantastical creatures no doubt, the standard critters seemed to be much more ‘magical’ in nature as he witnessed a crystal-scaled, white lizard catch a yellow-feathered avian with a breath of ice pouring from its mouth.

“…Huh…” He let out.

It was somewhat frightening to know that the standard inhabitants of Magul Forest possessed such abilities, though Roan didn’t seem troubled at all, and Melisande seemed as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning.

“You can stop right there.”

A feminine voice called out, stern and demanding from up ahead.

Of course, in response the carriage came to a stop as both Melisande and Emilio leaned out of the window of the wooden carriage to see who issued the stern command.

“State your name and intentions now.”

Dressed in a lavish, white-and-azure uniform with a flowing cape, a woman likely in her mid-twenties stood firmly in the middle of the forest road, keeping her hand by a sheathed sword. She had blonde hair, kept in a ponytail and sharp, bright-blue eyes that stood out.

Who is she? Emilio thought.

Roan scratched his head, “How about you state your name and intentions first.”

“Huh? What? But I asked you first!” The woman contested.

“It’s only good manners to state your business first if you plan on asking,” Roan replied.

The red-haired man’s deadpan rejection of the blonde-haired woman’s words seemed to fluster her as she didn’t expect the response, but she caved.

She placed her hand on her chest, “I am Aife, a knight of the Vasmoria Kingdom. I got lost–I mean, I am on patrol in this sector of Magul Forest. Now, I believe it is your turn.”

Ah, she’s totally not fooling anybody…Emilio thought.

Though it seemed obvious now that the golden-haired woman was a knight by her luxurious outfit with slim, ivory plating on her forearms, shins, and chest, though it seemed ‘minimal’ as if prioritizing mobility and flexibility rather than complete protection.

“I’m Roan, an adventurer from Milli–”

“R-roan?! The ‘Crimson Bolt’?!” Aife called out in surprise before composing herself, coughing into her glove, “…I mean, you claim to be a famed adventurer, but where’s your proof?”

Without missing a beat, Roan casually slipped his necklace from beneath the collar of his light-brown shirt, holding the pitch-black insignia up for the knight’s eyes.

“That’s…! I see, so you are who you claim to be,” Aife feigned composure.

“Then can I pass? Great,” Roan said, lifting the reins that guided the steed.

Before the carriage could set off again, Aife waved her hands, standing in the way of the hazel-furred steed, “Wait, wait, wait!”

“Huh? What is it? Now you’re impeding an urgent report of an adventurer of the Guild Foundation, Knight of Vasmoria,” Roan said pragmatically, “What will your superiors think of this?”

“I–err…” Aife averted her gaze, fiddling with her fingers, “…It happens that I lost my horse during my patrol. I…lost it during a skirmish with a great beast–that’s it. So, if you’d please…”

“Need a ride?” Roan asked.

“…Yes, please,” Aife finally admitted.