I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy

Chapter 6

"Turn your arm around," the innkeeper instructed.

In Ian’s room on the second floor of the tavern, the innkeeper was busy fastening a leather spaulder onto Ian's shoulder. Ian, complying with the innkeeper's actions, moved his arm smoothly to assist in the fitting.

"That's good," observed the innkeeper.

The spaulder fit Ian's shoulder perfectly, not hindering his movement in the slightest. The sensation of the leather straps was secure and firm.

"The trickiest part is over," the innkeeper muttered as he began tightening Ian's armor straps. Ian had requested his help with these preparations. Now that he needed to wear his armor like regular clothing, this task was essential. However, Ian's request for the innkeeper's help was for more than just assistance with the armor.

"Are you leaving immediately?" the innkeeper asked before Ian could speak up.

"I've been given a quest," Ian responded with a shrug.

"Even so..."

"There's nothing more for me here anyway. It's time to move on,” said Ian.

The innkeeper clicked his tongue, clearly upset by the thought of Ian departing.

He's making quite a fuss about it, thought Ian.

"Enough of that, tell me about the rumors," said Ian.

"What kind of rumors are you looking for?"

"The ominous ones. You hear them often enough."

Ian's real motive was to gather information. Taverns, being centers for travelers, outsiders, and chatty drunks, were ideal for collecting all sorts of rumors. This made them the perfect place for Ian to gather intel for his quest targets, a kind of investigative work.

"There's no shortage of those. The curse of the Black Wall spreading like a plague. What do you want to hear? A pack of wolves that eat only human flesh? A four-eyed crocodile in the underground sewers? Maybe headless horsemen and blood-thirsty fairies?"

The kingdom was rife with such rumors. Ian knew all too well that every one of them was real. It was indicative of how chaotic the dark ages were.

"Anything about specific places?"

"Well... there are rumors about a castle where blood flows from the walls, a cave where wails are heard, a forest where those who enter never return...."

Ian's eyebrow twitched. This was the story he was waiting for. "That'll do. Was it the Tomb Forest, perhaps?"

"Correct. Although the story behind it isn't as grand as its name suggests."

With a firm pull, the innkeeper tightened a strap on Ian's armor and briskly dusted off his hands.

"You don't usually join in on the tavern talk, but you know quite a bit," said the innkeeper.

"It's just like you overheard the conversations I had downstairs. If you're unhappy about it, maybe you should redo the flooring."

The innkeeper, with a slight smirk, picked up the gaiters and crouched down in front of Ian.

"That forest has an underground tomb. Rumor has it that ancient fairies built it. Anyway, since the times of the war against the demons, fallen soldiers have been entombed there. Rather than leaving corpses scattered all around, they threw them into the underground."

"And?" Ian recalled the Tomb Forest from the game, it was a credible backstory.

"Commoners also started burying their dead there. Whether tossed into the underground or buried in the forest. It was like that until recently. But then, a thick fog descended over the area." The innkeeper, having fitted the gaiters snugly onto Ian's shins, continued speaking. "Since then, people who enter don't return. No one dares to go there anymore. That's all there is to it."

"Were there no attempts to investigate?"

"There's nothing to gain. Even grave robbers avoid it. Why bother?"

"Right." Ian nodded agreeably, Ian continued, "That's why it interests me.”

Ian had gathered all the necessary information.

"You're bringing that knight with you? What do you hope to find?" The innkeeper raised an eyebrow curiously.

A dark mage enjoying his own party in the bone paradise, Ian thought to himself.

"What's there to find in such a tiny village, really? But it's the most likely place to start. How long will it take to get there?"

"On foot, about a week. No more than ten days at most. It's faster on horseback. Anyone local should know its name and location, so it shouldn't be hard to find.”

"I see...."

A week, or at most ten days. It seemed like it was only a ten-minute journey in the game. Ian gathered his thoughts.

"Anything else you want to ask? Anything else I can assist with?" The innkeeper stood up.

"No, that's all. Thanks for your help. I owe you one till the end." Ian picked up the sword he had placed on the table and stood up.

"I didn't expect the room to be vacant so soon." The innkeeper clicked his tongue.

"I told you I had no intention of settling down."

"Still, it wouldn't have been so bad if you had decided to stay."

This guy, he seems really upset about it. Ian chuckled,

"How long do you think this peace will last?" the innkeeper asked, his gaze sweeping the room.

"Not long," Ian replied nonchalantly.

"So as expected..."

"The monsters will return," Ian stated, strapping his sword to his waist. "And the war will start."

"...." The innkeeper's breath momentarily halted. His once muscular shoulders, now layered with fat, tensed up. It was a common reaction of someone who had experienced war.

"Don't entrust your future to others. Especially not to mercenaries like me," Ian advised, patting the innkeeper's shoulder. "You have to protect your nephew."

"...Yes, you're right. There might come a day when I'll need to use the armor and axe you gave me," the innkeeper said, his voice a mixture of resignation and the resolve of a veteran bracing for an uncertain future.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Ian, without paying much attention, turned and grabbed the doorknob.

"Go ahead. I'll just tidy up the room a bit and follow you."

"Alright. If you're late, I'll be gone," said Ian. "Take care of that ax. It won't last long.”

The door closed with a click.

"So that's why he was generous. Makes sense. But now...." The innkeeper smiled faintly as he looked down at his belly.

"I need to lose some weight. A war... huh." The innkeeper muttered to himself, his eyes returned to those of a man ready to do whatever it takes to survive as if the past month had been nothing but a sweet dream.

***

"Wow..." Philip exclaimed upon seeing Ian. "You look remarkable, sir."

Philip’s expression had changed from the dissatisfaction shown earlier. It seemed he had come to some internal agreement while Ian was getting ready.

"Hmm." Mev, sitting opposite Philip, nodded in approval.

Ian, in his ash-gray leather armor, looked every bit the plausible mercenary. The scabbard at his waist was worn, but the sword within it was new, suggesting he had survived long enough to replace his blades several times.

"That's an unusual color for the armor. What kind of leather is it?" Mev asked.

"Kobold chieftain," Ian answered.

"Kobolds are usually brown. Did it change due to the corrupted magic?" Mev asked again.

"Does that mean the armor is also infused with tainted magic?" Philip's expression turned apprehensive as he added the question.

"You seem quite fearful for someone aspiring to be a knight." Ian chuckled.

"Fearful? Not at all! Not in the slightest!" Philip jumped up in defense.

"Finish your meal. We have a long journey ahead, better to be well-fed." Ian casually sat down in the chair across from them.

Mev and Philip nodded, picking up their forks and spoons again. Bread, meat, stew—the heartiest meal available at the tavern.

"Have you decided on a destination?" Philip asked after a few minutes.

Ian shrugged. "For starters. First—" Just as he was about to continue, a shadow fell beside him. Ian frowned and turned. It was the maid with freckles scattered across her pale face.

"What is it?" Ian asked.

"Is it true?" The maid, her gaze fixed on Ian, asked in a subdued voice.

"What is?" Ian asked again.

"That you're leaving. With them.”

"Yes.”

"Right after the meal?"

"Yes.”

"How can you leave so suddenly?"

"That's the life of a mercenary,"

"Even so. But..." Her voice quivered slightly, then faded.

"...." Ian blinked blankly. Philip and Mev also paused, taken aback by the tears welling up in the maid's eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's just so sudden." Wiping her tears, the maid bowed her head and quickly retreated to the kitchen without looking back.

"Huh...."Ian let out a delayed chuckle. He had grown somewhat fond of the place, but he didn't expect such an emotional response. Shaking his head, he glanced toward the kitchen, then turned, sensing another gaze.

"What?" Ian asked.

"You have a way with women, sir. They say winning a woman's heart is the hardest," Philip spoke up, wearing a smile as if he had enjoyed a good show.

"There was nothing. No relationship of any sort," Ian replied.

"Your reaction says otherwise. That was—" Philip began.

"Nothing happened. End of story," Ian cut him off sharply, his tone cold. Philip closed his mouth, his expression saying, 'Yes, yes, whatever you say.'

'Cutting off that nose would wipe that smug look off his face,' Ian thought to himself.

"What didn't happen?" The innkeeper asked as he descended the stairs.

"Nothing," Ian responded, casting a sharp glance at Philip.

"Just finish what you were saying," Mev interjected, bringing the conversation back on track.

"I’m thinking of heading to the Tomb Forest first," said Ian.

"Tomb Forest...?" Philip sounded puzzled.

"It's got a bad reputation," Ian explained.

"It's on our way to the capital, so it wouldn't be a detour. But I'd appreciate more concrete reasons," Mev said earnestly.

"The dark mage is likely hiding somewhere. He talked about planting 'seeds' and waiting for the harvest," replied Ian as he nodded.

"I had suspected as much," said Mev.

"So, I picked a likely hiding spot," replied Ian.

"But isn't that place just an unmarked grave, full of bones?" Philip interjected.

"An ideal environment for a dark mage. Plus, with nothing to gain, no one would bother going there. And it's not causing any trouble outside the forest. Seems like enough reason to me," Ian replied.

"Even so, right in the heart of the kingdom...," Philip murmured, still unconvinced.

"They say the answer is often right under one’s nose," said the innkeeper, joining the conversation with a nod toward Ian. He added, "The Fixer here may not be the friendliest, but he's never been wrong so far. You won't regret following his lead."

"What if it's a wild goose chase?" Ian retorted.

"Well, at least the cursed forest will be gone." The innkeeper laughed.

"Both of you make valid points. Fine, we'll follow the mercenary's lead." Mev nodded.

"Ian. Call me Ian, not the mercenary, Sir Riurel." Ian corrected Mev.

"Aright. Ian," Mev conceded.

"We'll waste at least a day of our precious week." Only Philip seemed unhappy about this decision.

"If you're scared, just say so. I'll let you wait outside the forest." Ian's comment made Philip's eyes widen.

"Scared? I'll lead the way!" said Philip.

"Alright. Make sure you do," Ian chuckled.

"We don't have much time, let's depart immediately. The meal was good. Thanks." Mev put down her fork.

Philip hurriedly gathered his belongings.

"Take care. Hope to see you alive again." The innkeeper nodded to Mev and then turned to Ian.

"We won't meet again. Dead or alive,” replied Ian

"So cold, even in farewell," the innkeeper chuckled.

"False hope only shortens lifelines." Ian left the innkeeper behind with a dismissive click of his tongue and stepped out.

Just as Ian was about to open the door, the maid's voice urgently followed him.

"Wait a moment!" shouted the maid.

Ian's brow furrowed in annoyance. 'How much longer does she plan to cling on?' Ian thought. As he turned around irritably, the maid extended a bundle wrapped in cloth toward him.

"Take this with you, Fixer,” said the maid.

"What's this?" Ian asked.

"I packed some ham and cheese for your journey." She handed the bundle to Ian, adding, "Be careful, Fixer. You got that?"

After making brief eye contact, Ian awkwardly replied, "Alright. If anyone bothers you, grab anything sharp and aim for the throat. Or the eyes, that's also effective."

The maid smiled at his words. Ian nodded and then left the tavern. It wasn't such a bad farewell, after all. A faint smile briefly crossed his lips.

"My lord, did you see that?" Philip's voice echoed as he followed out. "The maid's eyes were just so full of longing..."

Ian's steps involuntarily halted. "Sir Riurel, I have a request." Ian continued, "Can I cut off your squire's tongue? It seems like it would be helpful for our journey."

Ian turned to Mev with a cold, icy gaze.

Philip's face paled.

"That's absolutely not allowed." Mev, donning her helmet, brushed past Ian and added, “But if there ever comes a time when it's necessary, I'll consider it."

"Such a frightening joke, my lord... you are joking, right?" Philip forced a nervous smile.

"I'll gladly do it. Free of charge," said Ian.

"Haha. You folks have quite a sense of humor. Well, then, I'll go ahead and fetch the horses!" Philip, stiff as a marionette, hurriedly followed Mev.

"Horses..." Ian murmured, stashing the bundle in his pocket dimension.

Ian wasn't fond of riding. To the people of this world, horses were a prized mode of transportation, but he found them bothersome and uncomfortable, needing too much care. But for this journey, it was essential to save time and energy.

"No choice, I guess." After a sigh, Ian leisurely began walking, musing that he could probably get a horse at a reasonable price, considering he had once completed a task for a stablemaster.