The Unwanted Undead Adventurer: Volume 3

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  Chapter 1: A Peculiar Man

  “Oh...? How very rare, to chance upon another person in these depths.”

  The man had a surprised expression on his face and spoke in a relatively non-threatening way, as if to declare he wasn’t a dangerous individual by any means. Upon closer inspection, he hardly looked like someone who bore me ill will. He didn’t seem like an adventurer of questionable morals, specifically the kind who wouldn’t hesitate to prey on their fellow adventurers.

  I still kept my guard up, for there was no way of knowing if my observations held water. At the very least, we should have a conversation.

  “I am... Surprised, as well. After all... No sane individual... Would wander. Into the depths of the... Swamp of Tarasque.”

  The man smiled at my response.

  “It is almost as if you claim you are not very sane yourself, kind sir. I do beg to differ, though, as I am very much in control of mine own faculties. In no small part to these—I assume you are similarly equipped?”

  The man held up what appeared to be a magical tool, one for nullifying the poison, if I had to guess. In addition, he was also armed with several vials of actual holy water, purchased from an established church, no doubt. In his other hand was a high-quality, well-annotated map of the swamp. Compared to myself, who charged into the swamp with nothing more than my unique constitution as my defense against the elements, this man seemed much more prepared.

  A seemingly true explorer of the Swamp of Tarasque.

  I lowered my head slightly at his words. I was hardly as prepared as he was, though that wasn’t a fact I had to disclose.

  My circumstances were quite different: my Undead constitution staved off the poison, and my divinity had gotten me out of a tight bind with a Tarasque. But I didn’t explain this to the man.

  I simply couldn’t.

  I only nodded, somewhat halfheartedly.

  “...It is, as you say.”

  “I see! As expected of one who challenges the swamp. On another note...are you here for Dragon Blood Blossoms as well?”

  “...Yes. You are after... The same? It is a good thing, that. We do not need to fight over... The flowers. To think another adventurer... Would arrive at the same time as myself.”

  Honestly speaking, few adventurers were capable of making it to this point. Even if they were skilled, purchasing the adequate equipment required a fair sum of coin. In addition, the typical adventurer wasn’t partial to exposing themselves to potent poisons on a regular basis. If an adventurer were truly skilled enough to trek through the Swamp of Tarasque, they would instead be exploring the labyrinth depths, and making good coin in the process.

  If one desired a Dragon Blood Blossom, however, this was the only place to go. Even so, few dared venture this far into the swamp.

  Raising my head to look at the man again, I couldn’t help but notice his beauty. His skin was pale, almost like it had never been touched by the sun. There was a certain coldness to his features, accompanied by an almost unfeeling gaze. His face was framed by long tresses of silver hair, hosting the very look of a noble.

  At his waist was a rapier, and on one of his arms a well-made, lightweight metallic shield. For one reason or another, I couldn’t shake the notion that the man’s equipment was decorative more than useful. If anything, finer clothes suited this man; in fact, he would look at home in finery and formal dress alone, sword and shield be damned.

  The contrast between the dreary swamp and the finery of this man couldn’t be more striking. It wouldn’t be strange if he had ventured into the swamp for the express purpose of picking these flowers.

  “Ah, you see...” the man continued, “I am not an adventurer.”

  “...Is that right?”

  “Verily so. How should I describe it... I am something akin to a butler, serving a certain esteemed individual. My master desires Dragon Blood Blossoms on a regular basis, hence my trips here.”

  Unless I misheard the man, he was a butler, on orders from his master to gather Dragon Blood Blossoms. What a wonderful master-servant relationship, given the dangers involved.

  Turning toward the black mouse perched on my shoulder, I grunted, then turned back to face the man.

  Edel... This mouse would never do anything of the sort for me.

  Making a mental note not to expect much of anything from my familiar, I posed a question to the man: “...Forgive my. Bluntness. Is your master... Unwell?”

  “Ah, yes. I suppose you could say so. Recently, even getting up has been quite the chore... Frankly speaking, I should be at my master’s side right now, not out here picking flowers. Even so, it is undeniable that my master requires Dragon Blood Blossoms. While the extract could be easily made into a potent medicine, my master has developed quite the taste for...freshly-pressed flowers, if I may say so. Speaking of...would you happen to know of any methods to preserve freshly-extracted Dragon-Flower Blood? Perhaps you might have such knowledge, given that you are an adventurer...?” the man asked, somewhat inquisitively.

  While a Dragon Blood Blossom could be processed into medication, freshly-extracted Dragon-Flower Blood was much more potent. While I didn’t know the specifics as well as an herbalist would, I understood Dragon-Flower Blood degraded in a few days’ time and had to be used within that time frame. If one required a regular supply for any reason, one had no real choice other than visiting the swamp repeatedly.

  For the average person, this would be an impossible feat, requiring a great amount of resources and hard work. While a magical tool would remain potent and functional once purchased and adequately maintained, holy water was another matter. Given that a single bottle deprived the purchaser of a few gold coins, the protection it offered from the swamp was proven.

  While I had never given it much thought until now, the monopoly that churches had over the supply of holy water almost seemed illegal.

  Regardless, I had no idea how to preserve Dragon-Flower Blood. While I learned many tricks and skills from my short tenure as an herbalist’s apprentice, what the man was asking for was clearly beyond me. Even if such a method did exist, it was likely still undiscovered.

  “...No. If I did know... Such a method. I would... Stop adventuring and. Become an herbalist.”

  Such was my answer. A flat-out lie, given the fact that I had to become a Mithril-class adventurer. If I did discover such a method, I wouldn’t stop adventuring; even so, the man before me didn’t need to know this, either. I was, however, telling the truth when it came to not knowing very much on the specifics of preserving Dragon-Flower Blood.

  The man, as if expecting such a response, merely smiled. “I suppose so, yes,” he said, in a well-practiced manner.

  “I... Apologize. For being unable to help.”

  The man’s expression softened upon hearing my apology, an equally apologetic look tinting his features. “No, no. Please, do not worry of it. In fact, I should apologize for expecting so much from someone I have only just met. Think of it more as a casual question, good sir. Do not trouble yourself over it.”

  The man seemed genuinely apologetic.

  “Thank you for... Your concern.” I decided to offer some pleasantries of my own. “I am... Not. In the business of... Disappointing people I have just met. I would be glad... To help. If there is something I could... Do, however.”

  The man seemed taken aback at my words, and he paused momentarily as if in deep thought. “Is that right...? In that case...even if you do not bear the knowledge I seek, perhaps it is fortunate that I made
your acquaintance on this day. My master would certainly feel that way.”

  I tilted my head, not exactly understanding the man’s statement.

  “Ah, I do apologize. I occasionally get lost in mine own thoughts. I refer to what you mentioned prior, if there was anything you could do to help.”

  “I did say... That. Yes.”

  “To tell the truth, we have been searching for a reliable party to bring us Dragon Blood Blossoms at regular intervals. The search is not progressing well, of course...”

  “Hoh...?”

  I suppose that would be the case. If the adventurer in question was of a high rank, it wouldn’t be in their best interests to continually expose themselves to the Swamp of Tarasque. Even if the rewards were grand, or in some cases of questionable legality, most adventurers would refuse such a request if there were no good reasons behind it.

  This was why that orphanage girl, Alize, was so troubled. If the details of the request weren’t so difficult, someone would have surely aided her with it, given the client was an orphanage.

  A sudden thought flashed across my mind—

  “...I see. By reliable party... Do you mean. Me?”

  “Quite so. I do apologize for the reckless nature of this request. We will, of course, submit a formal series of requests via the guild, and arrange for an agreeable set of contracts and rewards. If you will accept, I would be most indebted... Please do forgive me for asking after all this time, but you are an adventurer, yes?”

  It was almost like he already knew I was an adventurer. I supposed I should introduce myself, then.

  I told the man my name and adventurer rank: “Yes. I am a Bronze-Class... Adventurer. Rentt... Vivie. I am here because of... A request. I picked up.”

  Yet another surprised expression crossed the man’s features. I understood the reason for this: my adventurer rank, if nothing else.

  “...I would not have thought you would be a Bronze-class adventurer...” the man continued.

  “Are you less... Eager. To entrust me with the... Task, now?”

  The man shook his head. “No, nothing of the sort. I was indeed surprised at your rank, but that was all. The fact that you stand before me uninjured is a testament to your skill. I would be honored if you would accept our request, or at least consider it, good sir.”

  “...You are a strange. One.”

  The average person wouldn’t think much of entrusting a Bronze-class adventurer with such a task. But the man hardly seemed bothered by my rank. I suppose he was more concerned with my actual abilities.

  Personally, I didn’t know if I was up to the task, but the fact that someone else felt that way brought some joy to my heart.

  The man, as if remembering something important, continued on. “Ah, yes... How careless of me. My name is Isaac Hart. Do feel free to call me Isaac. I would introduce you to my master...but of course, only after the formal proceedings are in place.”

  ◆◇◆◇◆

  Although I ended up having quite a discussion with Isaac, the Swamp of Tarasque was hardly a place for such lengthy conversations. Now we both knew we had reliable means to combat the swamp’s poison; we hardly would have stayed to talk otherwise. Even if one was impervious to the poison, the same could not be said for one’s possessions. The best equipment could be corroded by unnecessary exposure to the swamp. Isaac, however, seemed to have noticed this before I raised my concerns on the matter.

  “It would seem like our discussion has gone on for some time. I do apologize. I must return soon, with flowers of my own, of course. By your leave, good sir,” Isaac said, bowing his head slightly as he ended the conversation.

  I suppose we both had to get going relatively soon.

  “...Yes.” I nodded in response. “About the request... I will await contact. From the guild. Is that... Acceptable?”

  “Yes, that is fine. We will be formally requesting you through the guild; good of them to contact you on our behalf. Even so...I hardly think anyone would accept this request—other than you, that is,” Isaac said, a wry smile flitting across his face.

  That much was true; one would be hard-pressed to find an adventurer who was willing to enter the swamp in the first place, much less at regular intervals for the purposes of flower-picking. Enough coin would send one skilled adventurer on a single trip, but there were some things even money couldn’t readily buy.

  Few adventurers would be convinced to ruin their health in this fashion; an adventurer’s body was their greatest asset, after all. Even if the profits were great, a sick adventurer would eventually become a hungry one.

  I was an outlier, being unaffected by the swamp’s effects in general. I suppose it also goes without saying that individuals like me were exceedingly rare.

  I nodded, before giving Isaac a quick wave of farewell. Waving back, Isaac seemed somewhat pleased by the outcome of our conversation. He also seemed pleased enough to throw something in my general direction.

  I caught the item with a free hand. “...A bottle of holy... Water?”

  Isaac offered an explanation as I tilted my head, confused.

  “Please, do use it if you would like. It seemed like you did not have any on your person,” Isaac said, somewhat concerned.

  How did he know this? Curious, I asked Isaac for an explanation.

  “Why do you... Think so?”

  “Holy water has a particular smell to it, you see. Nonetheless, it would seem like you possess other methods of protection. While this is a walled garden protected by the Dragon Blood Blossoms, I sense something even more pure on your very person.”

  The Swamp of Tarasque was many things, but it was also a place that smelled...adequately terrible. Between the poison in the air and the muck on the ground, this much was understood.

  This garden of crimson blossoms also had a stench of its own, namely, the overwhelming fragrance of the Dragon Blood Blossoms themselves. Maybe it was the fact that these flowers purified the poison and miasma, or perhaps they smelled this way for some other reason altogether.

  Either way, one would be hard-pressed to smell anything in this garden, let alone the alleged smell of holy water.

  While holy water did have a unique smell to it, its fragrance would eventually diffuse into the air with time, much like perfume. In fact, one only had to walk past a priest or a healer of the Church in a town to smell such a fragrance. Could this man really discern such a faint smell here, amidst the stench of the swamp and the thick fragrance of the blossoms? Or perhaps he was confident in his sense of smell...?

  No, there has to be more to this.

  He mentioned he could “sense something even more pure.” My divine aura, I suppose?

  There was also the fact that he had ventured into the Swamp of Tarasque alone. Maybe there was more to this man than I thought, skills and appearances aside.

  “...I see you have... A good eye. I am able... To use divinity, you see.”

  It wasn’t something I had to hide. While few humans had the ability to channel divinity, such individuals did exist. After all, I hadn’t even run into Sister Lillian, who had taken care of the orphanage all her life, on the streets of Maalt.

  Having reserves of divinity within oneself wasn’t something worth fussing over, nor was it worth hiding, especially before someone who had already noticed me utilizing it.

  With this, I could safely assume Isaac possessed honed senses, and for some reason I felt like I could trust him. At least, when it came to not carelessly disclosing information.

  As if agreeing with my assessment, Isaac nodded. “As I suspected, good sir. Well, then...was the holy water an unnecessary gesture?”

  “... No. In fact, I am... Grateful. Although I made it here... In one piece. I was having doubts... About the return trip. I am thankful... You have aided me with such... A blessing.”

  “Is that so? I am glad I was of assistance.”

  “...But. Is this really all right...? This is quite... An expensive item. I can tell from
the... Bottle alone. In fact... It is a top-grade... Bottle of holy water... Blessed. By the Church of Lobelia.”

  The Church of Lobelia... This church in particular didn’t have much of a presence in Yaaran, but it wielded immense power and clout in the great kingdoms to the west. While they did have a church established in Maalt, its congregation was relatively small.

  Despite its size and lack of presence in Maalt, however, they did sell high-grade holy water, albeit at a price that bucked all market trends of whatever location they had set themselves up in.

  To be precise, the bottles weren’t exactly sold so much as they were rewarded to those who showed great faith...and also to those who donated large sums of coin to the church. A transaction in some ways, but at the same time not quite an outright sale. The higher the donation, the more potent the grade of the holy water. Higher grades of holy water, in turn, were housed in increasingly ornate bottles. Even holy water had different grades to it: although basic holy water could be sold by various churches, high-quality bottles could only be made by churches that possessed the means to produce them.

  Various factors determined a bottle of holy water’s grade: the duration of its effect, its density, fragrance, transparency... Variations in each of these factors could greatly alter the value of a bottle. The Church of Lobelia’s top-grade bottles, on the other hand, were in a class of their own. A single drop from these bottles had as much potency as an entire bottle’s worth of lower-grade holy water from other institutions. Under normal circumstances, one wouldn’t give such a bottle to a stranger casually.

  But Isaac just shook his head.

  “Would you not need it later? I simply thought it made sense to hand it to you here and now.”

  Isaac’s statement struck me as slightly odd; I hadn’t even agreed to the request at hand yet. Was he acting on the assumption that I would do so?

  Even so...

  “Did you not think... I could simply run off with... This bottle. Without accepting your... Request?”

  “If that does happen, good sir, well, then that is that. I suppose I would have been a bad judge of character in that case. In addition, neither my master nor myself are in dire financial straits, so to speak.”