Chapter 143, Flowers on the Barren Mountain

Translator: Barnnn

 

The season was turning, the meadows softening into green as flowers and grasses waited for the first breath of spring. Along the highway, a boxy, weatherworn horsebus rattled along at a brisk pace.

On the driver’s bench sat Ize, calling to the pair of horses from time to time.

 

“Hiro, Take! Just half a day more and we’ll reach the village! Once we’re there, I’ll give you a proper brushing, using the custom brushes they used at the Speraniessa Lord’s manor’s stables! I’ve heard they’re made with Mystic Beast hair — gotta feel better than an ordinary brush, right?”

“Brrrumph.”

“Brrr.”

“Kekyo!”

“Whoa, stop right there, Sato,” Hal said, sticking his head out of the front window. “We’re almost to the village, so don’t wander off.”

“Kyo!”

“If you don’t come back, I’ll stick you in the Magic Bag.”

“Kyo…”

“Tell you what, once we’ve found a place to stay, we’ll go out and play,” Ize offered.

“Kekyo!”

“Honestly, you only ever listen to her,” Hal muttered, watching the little creature hop obediently in reply to Ize.

 

Though he cradled Sato in his arms, Hal felt the sour sting of defeat that came when a pet preferred to play with someone else. He deposited the creature into Fieda’s hands — while the latter was still bent over the map — and leaned up toward the driver’s bench again.

 

“Still cold out here, isn’t it? You doing all right, Ize?”

“I’m fine. That windscreen you put up helps a lot. Though… with the sun so warm, I’m feeling a bit sleepy.”

“All right. But if you start feeling cold, we’ll swap.”

“Thanks. What about your MP?”

“Not a problem. Once the windscreen’s up, it barely drains anything.”

“That’s good to know.”

 

The journey from Speraniessa to Sooryab would take approximately one month. If they lingered too long, their planned operation would be delayed, so they had pushed on in a straight line, wasting no time on sightseeing.

Even so, they had planned to spend several days in the next village, which they would reach this afternoon.

Their reason: a spring festival.

Plieggz Village sat near a mountain rich in ore. Each year, the villagers would climb the mined-out mountain’s barren slope to paint flowers across its surface, praying for the region’s nature to be revitalized in spring proper. Outsiders were welcome to join, so the group had timed their route accordingly.

 

◆

 

Before entering the village, the group had an early lunch at the last rest stop, and naturally, the conversation turned to the festival.

 

“I wonder how they actually paint flowers on a mountain,” Ize mused. “I can’t see standard paint sticking around for long.”

“Maybe they’re using industrial-grade stuff,” Hal guessed. “But even that wouldn’t last a whole year on rocks.”

“Apparently, they use crushed waste ore mixed with dye,” Fieda explained, spooning a heap of crisp-fried, spice-dusted potatoes onto his plate. “Even if it washes away, it soaks harmlessly into the mountain’s surface.”

“That’s clever,” Ize said.

“They choose colors based on the wish they’re making for the year,” Fieda went on.

“Different colors for different wishes? Like what?” Hal asked.

“I’d assume the usual,” Ize replied. “Health, love, things like that.”

“Health is one, for sure. I can’t remember the specific color-wish pairings, though.” Fieda scratched his hair, trying to recall what another horsebus driver he used to guard had told him a long time ago.

“Eh, don’t sweat it. We can just ask when we get there,” Hal said.

“Sure. Knowing in advance is nice and all, but learning about it on the spot is fun too,” Ize agreed, excitedly imagining what wishes she would make.

 

Fieda, after twenty-five years escorting Union horsebuses, was in the habit of gathering precise, reliable information on every route. Ize and Hal, by contrast, could be seen as startlingly careless.

When Fieda heard about how they had shaved days off their schedule by exploiting Ize’s Fleet Foot skill, he nearly swallowed his tongue, then spent the better part of an hour scolding them about their recklessness and lack of awareness. That had been more than a year ago.

Carefree and reckless, yet creative and sharp when it counted — he sometimes found their quick thinking and bold decisions almost dazzling. Living alongside them felt, at times, like stepping into one of the tales from the Sage Encyclopedias. And then, in the same breath, the stress recorded in the memoirs of Heroes’ companions would rear its head, feeling all too real.

 

Fieda sipped his tea, then let out a shallow sigh as he watched a leaf dance in the dirt at his feet.

 

◆

 

Once they were in the village, crowds of outsiders were already moving through the streets for the festival.

 

“The streets are wider than I expected,” Hal remarked.

“Wider for carts hauling ore,” Fieda said, observing the packed, stone-hard ground.

“Look at all the stone shops,” Ize added. “Those jars of polished scraps are beautiful.”

“Decorating with waste stone, huh? Smart idea,” Hal said.

“Eyes on the road,” Fieda reminded them. “Lodging first, shopping later.”

“”Yes, sir!”” they chorused, tapping two fingers to their temples.

 

In the end, they found a small inn near the village’s edge. When they were just about to step out and explore, a boy helping at the inn called out to them.

 

“If you’re here for the festival, you should go to the meeting hall!”

“What for?” Fieda asked.

“That’s where you buy the paint and get your mountain tickets.”

“Mountain tickets?” Ize asked, poking her head around Fieda.

“Y-yeah,” the boy said, suddenly a little flustered now. “When you make your wish, you paint a flower. The ticket tells you where on the mountain you paint, and the paint’s the right color for your wish.”

“Huh, so that’s how it works. Interesting,” Hal remarked.

“It’s like a giant paint-by-numbers,” Ize said with a grin.

 

She proceeded to hand him a packet of baked sweets in thanks. The boy flushed and mumbled a quiet “thanks” before hurrying off.

 

◆

 

The meeting hall stood near the center of the village. A line had formed outside, broken into separate queues.

 

“Let’s see… Separate lines for each wish. Blue for health, yellow for business, green for harvest, red for family harmony,” Ize read from a sign.

“I’m thinking blue,” Hal said.

“I’ll go with… red.” Ize pointed. “I’ll wish for everyone’s safety and peace of mind.”

“Wouldn’t that put us in different spots?”

“Oh, that’s true. Then I’ll do blue too.”

“Why not both?” Fieda asked.

Both of them stopped and turned. “”Both?””

“Paint blue first, then come back for red.”

“Oh! That works.”

“I thought it was one wish per person,” Ize said, chuckling at her obvious oversight.

“Want to do all four?” Fieda asked, giving a dry smile.

“That might be pushing it,” Ize said. “The Goddess might think we’re greedy.”

“Nah, she’s totally the type to grant it all — like, bada-bing!”

“What about you, Fieda?”

“Since it’s a special occasion, maybe I’ll pick a different one. Yellow or green…”

Hal’s gaze flicked upward, toward Fieda’s head. “…How about harvest?”

 

Without a word, Fieda pressed one broad palm to Hal’s face and ground it in.

 

“Mmggff!”

“Ahh, yes,” Fieda said flatly. “A fine suggestion.”

“F-Fieda… You’re squishing Hal’s face! He’s gonna look like a Goblin!”

“Mmggff!”

“Oh, that’s good to know. It’ll add some character to his plain face.”

“I-I guess…?” Ize said, fighting back laughter. “Welp, Hal, think of it as free cosmetic work.”

“Mmggff!?”

 

Keeping his hand firmly in place, Fieda hauled Hal bodily into the queue for blue paint.

Fieda finally let go, and Hal staggered back, rubbing his cheeks with both hands as if trying to massage the shape back into them.

 

“That was brutal, man,” he muttered. “Pretty sure I also heard something about a Goblin and a plain face in there.”

“It was your imagination,” Fieda said flatly.

“Definitely your imagination,” Ize echoed with a straight face.

 

In the blue queue, Hal paid for a pot of paint and a numbered tag. The staff asked if he had a map of the mountain; when he said no, they handed him a large sketch showing the numbered sections and their corresponding colors. Stepping aside to avoid blocking the line, the trio studied the map together before joining the red queue.

 

“Hey, look at this. The trails up the mountain look like branches.”

 

From a distance, the main paths did indeed resemble a tree’s trunk, the side trails its branches, with the painted rock meant to bloom around them.

 

“When it’s fully painted, I bet it’s going to look totally lit,” Ize remarked.

“Uh… what?” Fieda tilted his head.

“Oh, sorry. It’s an Earth thing — you say it when you think something’s cool,” she explained. “You know, it also reminds me of an old Japanese story about making flowers bloom on a dead tree.”

“Oh, that would be Hanasaka Jiisan,” Hal said. “It’s even got an English version, called ‘The Old Man Who Made the Dead Trees Blossom.'”

“There’s a story like that?” Fieda asked, curious.

 

Ize and Hal pieced together the folktale from memory.

 

“Strange,” Fieda said when they finished.

“That’s most folktales,” Hal replied. “They’re meant to teach kids lessons.”

“The punchline is almost always that if you do bad things, you’ll get what’s coming to you eventually,” Ize added.

 

When their turn came, Ize paid for her red paint. The staff asked if they already had another number, and Hal showed the blue tag. The man picked a red tag close to it.

 

“They’ve even accounted for this, huh? How thoughtful,” Fieda said.

“It does help prevent visitors from getting, say, one spot at the base and the other at the summit,” Ize agreed.

“Though if you’re last in line, you might not get to choose,” Hal pointed out.

“True enough.”

 

Last came the green queue. As they waited, they discussed dinner; their inn didn’t serve meals, so they would have to find something in the village. Plieggz’s main industry was mining, so it was unlikely they’d have many specialties, but even a small change in seasoning could give the same dish a very different taste.

Before long, it was Fieda’s turn. He took the green paint and, just like before, was given a tag close to Hal and Ize’s numbers.

 

“When do we start painting?” Fieda asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” the staff said. “We let the people with higher numbers go first, so if yours is low, you can start later. Makes it easier for everyone to get to their spots.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

 

The system made sense — if people started painting at the bottom first, they’d block the path for those higher up. Comparing their tags, they found all three of their spots clustered around the middle left of the mountain.

 

“So… no rush, eh?” Fieda said.

“Right,” Ize agreed. “We’ll have some time to watch other people first.”

“Uh, so I gotta admit, I haven’t painted anything since I was a kid,” Hal remarked.

 

Ize thought about herself: she’d had art class in school, but that was it. Some classmates had filled their notebooks with doodles of manga characters and the like, the way she had filled her head with basketball notes. That reminded her of something, and she glanced up at Hal.

 

“During the manor attack… didn’t you draw something strange on a map?”

“Did I?” he asked, genuinely oblivious.

“There was seaweed in the garden.”

“…That was Sato!” Hal corrected, horrified.

 

Ize burst out laughing. It had looked nothing like Sato, but if Hal insisted, who was she to argue?

 

“Tomorrow it’s just flowers, so even with no artistic sense at all, you should manage fine. Lucky for you, Hal.”

“Why me? Maybe my right hand will awaken some hidden genius! A new talent is about to bloom!”

“…Well, it IS a festival,” Ize deadpanned. “We might as well let you have your daydreams.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Come on,” Fieda said, nodding toward a stall. “They’re selling brushes for the flowers. Let’s go.”

“”Yes, sir!”” they chorused.

 

The brushes were compact and fine-tipped, clearly meant for tourists. Ize bought one and looked up toward the mountain. From here, the mined slope looked pale and sandy, not very tall — something they could hike without much effort.

 

She leaned toward Hal and whispered, “Hal, can you take some pictures before it’s painted?”

“Sure. But you probably should use Stealth to cloak me.”

“Of course. Thanks.”

 

With Ize’s Stealth over him, Hal pulled out his tablet and snapped several quick shots of the bare mountain. When he lowered the device, Ize’s face was bright with satisfaction.