The Porter Has No Interest in the Hero’s Party

Leaving the hero’s group who had plunged into the operation, we stood in front of the inner fortress gate like lost tourists. The guards, who didn’t know why we were there, glanced at us guarding the gate and then moved along their patrol route, and I stood next to Ashuria after placing my luggage in the warehouse.

Ashuria, with her arms folded, looked around and then, seeing me approach, frowned and said:

“How about staying in the warehouse? No matter how sturdy you are, we don’t know what might happen here.”

Ashuria’s tone suggested she found my presence annoying rather than being concerned for me. But the warehouse, upon entering, was dusty and had a strange smell. It was fine for briefly leaving luggage, but not suitable for lying down while waiting for an operation of unknown duration.

“Nothing will happen. Because the hero is such an amazing person. With one swing of the hero’s sword, those evil guys will all fall down screaming. Isn’t that always the case? Don’t you also believe in the hero’s overwhelming abilities, Miss Ashuria?”

Overwhelming abilities.

Whatever Ashuria imagined from the phrase I offered, she suddenly blushed, her gaze drifting blankly into space before smiling broadly. At her smile, which seemed almost drug-induced, I slightly increased the distance between us, and Ashuria, fingering her lips, nodded and then said to me:

“Yes. I believe. Your words have a point.”

After her words ended, silence lingered in the fortress. We were never ones to clash with each other from the beginning. Ashuria took the vanguard and always moved at the front, while I was the porter who moved at the back.

She disliked my habit of seeking out widows, and I didn’t like her bizarre principles of action.

We were like mine carts running on different rails while going the same way. I had thought we might end the adventure without ever opening up to each other or understanding each other.

But today seemed to be the day we would finally have some kind of conversation. Ashuria kept giving me glances, and I was getting fidgety, unable to bear her piercing gaze.

“…Do you have something to talk about?”

When I asked the question, Ashuria answered like a dog biting a frisbee:

“I was thinking about love accompanied by violence.”

Her question was enough to make me stagger, as surprising as a large dog running wildly. I knew she preferred violence as a means of communication, but I didn’t know she wanted violence as a means of love as well.

“I don’t understand what you mean. Love accompanied by violence. Is that love?”

“If there is no pain in love, I think it’s not love.”

Her firm tone made my shoulders shiver. But I had no intention of being a yes-man to her. Her theory of love was the opposite of mine.

“Giving pain to others and receiving pain is not love. Rather, ending the pain of your lover is closer to love. I find it difficult to accept your theory of love, Miss Ashuria.”

“Both humans and beasts entrust their bodies only to those they trust most. They reveal their weakest parts without hesitation and willingly show their backs. If imprinting one’s mark on such a partner is not proof of love, then what is proof of love? We can feel satisfaction through bruises and cut wounds engraved on our bodies in pain, and we can fulfill our possessiveness through the act of cutting our partner’s body with a knife.”

Ashuria naturally brought her hands together as she spoke, looked up at the sky, and smiled. At her irreverent prayer posture, I stuck out my tongue.

“It sounds like animals marking their territory.”

Ashuria, who had been explaining with an ecstatic expression, frowned at my comment and clicked her tongue.

“…How crude. Is that all the response you have to a discussion about love?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never felt violence to be noble. Using a sword is just using a sword. I’ve heard stories of gaining love by using a sword well, but I’ve never heard of achieving love by swinging a sword at a woman. Doesn’t violence usually mean the end of a relationship? The hero probably wouldn’t like such an extreme view of love either.”

“When I asked him in the village yesterday, he indeed didn’t like it.”

“So you asked about that too.”

While Mille and I were eating salad at the inn, the two of them seemed to have had a deep conversation about love and violence. The hero, not knowing how to react to this bizarre view of love he had never experienced, ran away first, and Ashuria probably felt disappointed that the hero couldn’t understand her love.

Ashuria, whatever she thought of my question asked with a click of my tongue, nodded and said:

“Of course I had to ask. The hero has talent. An overwhelming talent given by heaven. After seeing the golden sword energy striking down from the sky and the martial prowess of mercilessly swinging a sword towards enemies, you will think the same.”

“Normally, one would think ‘that’s the great hero who will save the world.’ Who would look at that and think ‘a genius of torture’?”

“It’s not torture but love.”

“The hero wouldn’t have accepted it either, would he? You went out together before, but you came back empty-handed, right?”

“The hero has talent. He just hasn’t opened his eyes yet. Beginners usually find it most difficult when they first swing a whip. But the moment they leave a red mark on the back of a loved one, they become more excited than a youth witnessing defloration and crave a more intense experience.”

“That’s close to brainwashing.”

“It’s education.”

Ashuria shook her head and turned her gaze. I, too, clicked my tongue and increased the distance. It wasn’t good for party members to be on bad terms, but I didn’t need to understand this aspect of her. She had never understood my hobbies either.

Ashuria, leaning against the wall, gestured to me again and added, as if to provoke me:

“Someone like you probably won’t understand for the rest of your life. Aren’t you a weak human, incomparable to the hero? Even if you hit someone, you couldn’t deliver a powerful blow like the hero. Since the quality of violence is different, you can’t understand love. But, isn’t there a saying in the old verses? Those who live in paradise say the sky is blue, but those who see the pitch-black soil at the bottom of paradise cannot understand. The high priest who taught me said not to regard what others don’t understand as sin, but to understand it. I am a religious person, so I will understand.”

Though I didn’t want to be understood, Ashuria seemed to have decided to understand me. She looked up at the sky with a refreshed smile, as if the anger that had risen during our brief conversation had subsided.

“It’s taking longer than expected.”

“They’re probably looking for the right opportunity. If they had started cutting with swords right away, it would have been noisy.”

“I’m starting to think I should have gone up after all. It was an opportunity to show my specialty.”

“Specialty? Aren’t you a high priest?”

When I looked at her with a questioning expression, Ashuria hesitated, then nodded and said:

“I was originally not a high priest but a heresy inquisitor.”

“Heresy inquisitor? You mean those guys who burn even children when reported for demon worship?”

Heresy inquisitor.

These humans were beings better not encountered in one’s lifetime. They mainly selected demon worshippers or witches to torture and investigate, and most could not withstand the cruel torture, confessing to their crimes and being sublimated as human firewood.

Due to the characteristic of investigating through torture, there was much room for misjudgment, and in fact, it was a method that caused many innocent victims. It had disappeared long ago in the empire, but it seemed the kingdom had operated it until recently.

Ashuria shook her head when I described the stake with my hands and asked:

“It’s not that barbaric. The investigation is not done by heresy inquisitors but by lower investigators who examine thoroughly, and elements like torture are not conducted here. Only those whom these investigators have confirmed to be demon worshippers or nonsensical heretics are handed over to heresy inquisitors. We torture and punish those cruel criminals to interrogate them about their other crimes.”

“But don’t you still perform burning at the stake? Tying them to stakes and setting fire to wood.”

“That depends on preference. I preferred beating them to death, so I tied them up in the village square and beat them until they died. It was something I did out of a desire for them to go to heaven, even as criminals, receiving plenty of my faith and love.”

“I’m not sure which one the criminals would have appreciated more.”

Ashuria’s “beating to death” didn’t seem to mean delivering a single blow to the neck with a knife hand to send them off quickly. It was clear from her ecstatic expression and twitching fists.

Ashuria nodded at my words.

“It seems they preferred burning at the stake a bit more. They said my execution method was too cruel and had a negative impact on public opinion.”

I imagined Ashuria boxing people tied up in the middle of the village.

Pounding them until the wooden post was dented, turning people into rags, and then leaving with a refreshed expression—it was a scene so believable that even if she were called a demon, it would be credible.

“I applied to this party because I wanted to fight demons rather than live as a nun who simply spreads the word.”

“I see.”

“And now that I’ve even met a hero with such innate talent, I think this adventure is clearly God leading me.”

I crossed myself and nodded. If God was truly leading her, I hoped to receive some of that blessing as well.

And at the moment we both nodded, terrible screams began to ring out from inside.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

Today, this sound seemed like fireworks announcing the success of the operation.