Chương 13: A Pleasant Reunion

The Primaboar's Head tavern was not the most popular place in town to drink. The food was passable, the drinks were not too expensive, but not cheap either, the barmaids were reasonably attractive, and the location was sort of alright. What it lacked in standout traits, though, it made up for in consistency.

No matter the season, rain or shine, war or peace, its doors were always open, and there was always plenty to drink, and this had allowed it to build up a strong core of regulars to keep the lights on and the atmosphere lively. Igrette hadn't known any of this when she chose this place to eat, but it was quickly made known to her when some of the older locals saw her sitting alone and invited her in to join them.

She had considered turning them down, preferring to drink alone, and she didn't entirely regret accepting. She still preferred to drink alone, but company was good every once in a while, and these people were as pleasant as any others. They didn't even ask about her face.

"So, what brings you all the way out here?" asked an old man, cheeks red from ale.

"Visiting family?"

"My sister," said Igrette.

"It has been a long time since I saw her."

"Who's your sister?" asked the man's wife.

"Helen. She runs an orphanage here."

"Oh, St. Elena's!"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Ah, that's good, that's good," said the man.

"I'm sure Old Helen will enjoy the company."

"Old?" said Igrette with a smirk.

"You're in no position to be saying that." The man gasped in mock indignation.

"I'll have you know that Helen is three days older than me. Three. I'm practically a spring chicken compared to her." That statement earned a bout of laughter from the rest of the table, which was followed by a toast to youth, during which they all downed their mugs and ordered another round. The conversation turned to some local talk about seeing Helen at the market, and Igrette began to lose interest, until one of the other men at the table said something that drew her back in.

"Y'know, I heard the strangest rumor about St. Elena's the other week," he said.

"Oh?" replied the man beside him.

"Yeah, apparently a couple kids escaped and ran off into the woods. Nearly got killed by a primaboar." One of the women gasped.

"No! Are they alright?"

"Oh yeah. Right as rain, accordin' to what I heard. And that's what's so strange about it. Apparently one of the kids killed it."

"Must have been a baby, then," said Igrette.

"Nah, I heard it was an adult," said the other man.

"Huge and covered in battle scars. And the kid didn't just kill it. He tore it to pieces! With his bare hands! Kid's only 4, and already a Hero in the makin'!" There was another round of laughter, but Igrette's face was stony.

"Don't even joke about that," she said.

"Eh?"

"The rise of a new Hero means the world needs saving. Surely you remember the last time the world needed saving." The mood at the table turned somber. All of them were old enough to remember the last Demon War, and none of their memories of it were fond.

"Ah, don't be so stiff," said one of the men, breaking the silence.

"He was just embellishing to make the story."

"Yeah, o' course he's not an actual Hero," said the man who had told the story.

"I just thought it was funny is all. Imaginin' a little gremlin with fingernails like claws, tearin' a primaboar to pieces becomin' a Hero is amusin', you gotta admit that." Igrette held her icy glare for a few seconds, then glanced around the table. The others were clearly getting uncomfortable. Look, you've gone and done it again, Igrette, she thought with a sigh.

"I suppose," she said, looking down and taking a sip from her mug. It took a minute or so for the mood to return to what it had been. Igrette did her best to fade into the background, letting the others carry the conversation, and they seemed perfectly content to let her. None of them asked her any questions anymore. At least, not until they had gotten too drunk to ask anything serious. It was just a joke. The rumor is probably exaggerated anyway.

A four year old couldn't even kill a baby primaboar, much less a full-grown one. And tearing it to pieces with his bare hands? Pshhh. Still, the story kept nagging at the back of her mind. Whatever the truth of the matter was, all rumors had a kernel of truth to them, and this one surely had one too. And she couldn't help but tie it in with the letter she had gotten from Helen not long ago.

Helen had mentioned one of the orphans needing instruction on internal mana techniques, and Igrette couldn't help but wonder if it was the same one. If there was any bit of truth to the rumor—perhaps the primaboar was an infant, or an injured adult—then it wouldn't be far-fetched for her to assume that such a physically inclined child would be the one in need of internal mana instruction. Or if there was truth to the man's joke… No, that's impossible. It's only been 50 years. The previous Hero isn't even dead yet.

She shook her head as if to clear the thoughts away, then looked down into the amber depths of her tankard. She wanted to down the rest and order five more, but after a moment, she decided to push it away instead. She was supposed to meet with Helen in the morning. It would be best not to be hungover. She wouldn't sleep as well, but she could handle a little loss of sleep. Without warning, she stood up from her seat, stepping away from the table.

"It's been lovely, but I should be getting to bed. I have to meet Helen in the morning, so I'll be off now." She smiled politely at the chorus of "have a good night"s and turned and walked away. The next morning, she went straight to St. Elena's, and was promptly ushered into Helen's office, where the woman herself was waiting.

"Igrette!" said Helen, embracing her.

"It's been too long."

"Helen," said Igrette with a smile, returning the embrace.

"How have you been?"

"Oh, I've been lovely," said Helen, pulling away.

"Wonderful, actually. Raising children is always so rewarding, and I've gotten to raise hundreds!"

"So I've heard."

"What about you? What have you been up to since you retired?"

"Travel," said Igrette with a shrug.

"Sightseeing. Relaxing."

"That's good. You deserve some relaxation."

"Mmmmm…"

"Oh, don't be like that," said Helen as she turned back toward her desk.

"Come in and sit down. Do you want some tea? Also, why the mask?" Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I didn't want to scare the children. And yes, please. Tea would be lovely."

"I have biscuits too!" said Helen, rummaging around in one of the drawers in her desk.

"And you don't have to worry about that. A little fear is good for them. Besides, it's not that bad."

"Some children cry when they see me."

"Children always cry about the silliest things. So what? That's no reason to hide half your face."

"I'd just rather not deal with crying children."

"Well, there are no children in here, so you can take it off for me at least, right?"

"I suppose." With a sigh. Igrette reached up and unclasped the mask that covered the left side of her face. The eye that had been hidden beneath it was milky white, and three ugly scars ran from her forehead down to her chin where a rabid demon had nearly shattered her skull. Even Helen's magic had barely been enough to keep her alive, and it did little for the scarring.

"Ah, there you are!" said Helen with a smile, popping up from behind her desk with a teapot in hand.

"Much better!"

"Maybe for you," muttered Igrette, sitting down on the other side of the desk.

"Have you heard anything from Sarah lately?"

"Oh yes, she's doing well. She was actually just in town last year with her son and grandchildren!"

"Has she moved? I sent her a letter when I retired, but she never responded."

"Oh no, really? Maybe it was lost in the post."

"Maybe…" Or she ignored me on purpose, thought Igrette. She never liked me very much. At least she's alive, though.

"So, have you been anywhere especially interesting since your retirement?"

"Not really. Well, there was one village…" Igrette recounted the tale from when she happened to visit a village right as it was holding some kind of festival for water magic. The village itself was nothing special, but there were a few surprisingly competent mages who put on quite a show at the riverbank. From there, the conversation flowed easily, with Igrette talking about her travels, and Helen brewing tea while talking about the children that she had helped raise.

She got annoyingly smug when she talked about a few who had gone on to become professors or successful businessmen or things like that, but Igrette didn't mind too much. Of all the things to be smug about, that was one she would allow her old friend to have. When the conversation turned to the kids currently living in the orphanage, Igrette sensed a slight shift in Helen's mood as she danced around the topic.

She talked about what some of the children in the orphanage were up to, starting with the oldest and going down the list toward its inevitable conclusion.

"... Just the other day, Tommy–""I'm not doing it," said Igrette.

"What?"

"You want me to stay and teach. I won't do it."

"Oh, come on," Helen complained.

"At least give me a chance to make the offer before you turn me down."

"I'm no good with children, and I don't want to be tied down anywhere."

"Being anchored isn't so bad. Much better than drifting with the wind, in my opinion. And how do you know how good you are with children? When was the last time you tried?"

"I already told you, children cry when they see me."

"I bet you that Jonny wouldn't."

"Is he the one who supposedly killed the primaboar?"

"Oh, you heard about that already?"

"It was just a rumor. He didn't really kill one, did he?"

"Oh, he did," said Helen, nodding.

"With his bare hands too."

"He actually tore it apart?"

"No, not that. He just beat it to death. Shattered its ribs with sheer, brute force."

"How old is he?"

"Five."

"How old was the boar?"

"Young, but not an infant."

"You must be mistaken."

"I saw it myself." Igrette narrowed her eyes, waiting for Helen's composure to break, and for her to admit it was a joke, but it never happened.

"That's not possible," she finally said.

"Jonny is a special boy."

"Someone else must have helped him. Or the primaboar was already wounded. Or–""No. He killed it entirely on his own. It was uninjured. The only help he had was another five year old throwing rocks, nearly all of which missed."

"How?"

"He managed to force an internal mana surge, which gave him the strength he needed to kill it. It nearly destroyed him, but he won, and I got to him before any of the damage could become permanent." Igrette frowned. An internal mana surge would explain how he was able to beat a primaboar to death, but forcing one at age five, and then successfully using it to emerge victorious… It still sounded so far-fetched, but Helen was not the type to keep a lie running for this long.

"As I said, he's a special boy," said Helen with a triumphant smirk.

"I guess…"

"Would you like to–?"

"No."

"Stop doing that! At least let me finish."

"I already know what you're going to say, and I already told you, I don't want to be tied down."

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to meet him."

"Even then, no."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Helen sighed, setting down her tea cup.

"I'm going to make one more proposal, and– Igrette! Please let me finish. As I was saying, I'm going to make one more proposal, and even if you turn me down anyway, I hope you'll at least let me say it all first." Helen fixed her with a stare until Igrette slowly nodded her head.

"Jonny has a talent," said Helen.

"He's a natural-born fighter, even more so than you. He was smiling when he killed it, and when I talked to him afterward, do you know what he told me?" Igrette shook her head.

"He said he could have done better. There were things he could have done to win the fight more cleanly. He wasn't scared. He wasn't traumatized. He was already thinking of ways to fight better the next time. He's not normal.

"I believe in finding the best place for all my children, wherever their talents may lie, and while I am loathe to send a child to battle, I can't just ignore when Jonny shows such a strong aptitude. But I am also worried about him. He's only a child, and he's already fought a life and death battle, and he enjoyed it. I don't want to push him down the path of violence, but I fear he may already be walking it, in which case he will need guidance. Guidance that I cannot give, but you can.

"He's a good kid, but he's still so young. He doesn't know much about the world. He's not close to any of the other kids, except perhaps Tommy. He barely pays attention to the nuns when we try to teach classes. He spends all day exercising. And now, he's finally found something that he enjoys, and that something is fighting.

"I am worried about him, and I want someone who can help him walk his path without straying from the light. You are the best person for the job. Please. At least meet him once."

"You want me of all people to teach a kid right from wrong?"

"Not just that. He also needs to learn internal mana techniques."

"I'm not the right person for this."

"Who would be better?"

"Someone who hasn't done the things I've done."

"I think that makes you exactly the right person. Who knows right and wrong better than one who has done both?"

"I can't."

"You can."

"I don't want to be tied down."

"You say that, but look at yourself. You're too old to be riding the wind. Are you just going to wander and wander and wander until you drop dead?"

"Maybe," said Igrette defiantly.

"And when you stand before the Lord and he asks you what you've done with your life, what will you say? Will you proudly say that you rode the wind until you died?"

"I've made my peace with–""You've made your peace with nothing!"

"I have!"

"Then why are you still running?"

"I'm not!"

"You are! Have you even visited their graves?!" Igrette gritted her teeth. She had no response to that.

"I'm done here," she said, standing up.

"I'm glad you're in good health, Helen. Goodbye."

"Igrette, wait! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that! Please!" Helen stood up as well, trying to stop Igrette from leaving, but Igrette ignored her, brushing her aside as she fixed her mask to her face and opened the door. She raised a foot to stomp out the door, but froze when she saw someone standing in her way. It was a little boy, no older than five, peering up at her suspiciously.

"Oh, hello, Jonny," said Helen's voice from behind her, suddenly sweet. This is him? The boy didn't look like a little monster who had beaten a primaboar to death with his bare hands. He looked far too ordinary. His eyes were a rare shade of gold, but aside from that, there didn't seem to be anything too unusual about him. Well, his shoulders looked a little broad for his size, but other than that…

"Who are you?" he asked.

"This is my old friend Igrette," said Helen.

"Oh," said Jonny, still staring at Igrette.

"Are you my new magic teacher?"