Chapter 430 – Troll Nema Þat? (3)
After an accidental encounter with a strange being, we returned to the Picts’ village.
I wiped my body clean, but I was in a hurry, so the night was not late. We went back to my father-in-law’s house, receiving thanks from the female warrior guarding the entrance for driving out the idiots earlier—and even the dried fruit that her husband had made.
“Come. Are you done with your business?”
When I came back, the father-in-law had a similar atmosphere to his first impression.
Did she talk to me and solve the problem enough? Or maybe he decided to give me a little recognition.
Considering that there must be some influence from the nobility and their friends, can it be said that even dog poop can be used for medicine? Although the meaning of the proverb is slightly different from the original usage, it is true.
“Yes. But, there is something I want to ask you.”
“Question? Listen.”
“Does such a thing as a god or spirit really exist in this region?”
“… Have you been through something? Please explain in detail.”
I was talking about the strange girl. For the last song I left behind, I couldn’t remember the lyrics, so Fran helped me a little.
“It’s an old nursery rhyme. It’s a quiz about the identity of a troll.”
“A quiz? No, a troll?”
So that kid is a troll?
In terms of the pronunciation of the song lyrics, it was definitely ‘Troll’.
It just sounded like a ‘monster’ to my ears, but that’s probably because of the automatic translation of Papago in my large intestine.
The exact nuance is a spirit rather than a monster. It felt more like a fairy or a demon than a spirit.
To use the language of my hometown, Korea, it’s like a supernatural god?
My father-in-law spoke with a slightly awkward Britannia accent.
“In the outside world, trolls only refer to monsters whose wounds heal quickly. But originally, the word ‘troll’ refers to all kinds of monsters and strange creatures in mythology.”
“Mythical monsters…”
Fran muttered. He’s probably thinking of the lyrics to the strange song the girl sang.
When I heard the word “Monster” In the myth, I thought of the “God of Woo” Worshiped by Azteca’s cannibals.
The gods of Azteca are not actually divine beings.
Their identities were unrealistically powerful monsters.
A being so powerful that it fights against the gods in mythology.
Wild monsters like raid boss mobs that split the sky and destroy the ground.
Of course, they are monsters that are not friendly to mankind and only look at people as prey.
However, where is God classified and named as biologically, like ‘Cranes’?
A god is a being that humans worship.
Even if the essence is a monster, if it is worshiped and worshiped by humans with a power comparable to that of a god, how is it different from other gods?
It was for this reason that the gods of Azteca were called the right gods———that is, the “Foolish gods.”
They are not as hospitable to humans as Odin or the gods of Romania, and they have a different way of thinking, so it is no wonder that they are called evil gods from the point of view of mankind.
“Being a beloved follower of the earth moon Hrunnir or the prophet is a hint of a certain monster in mythology. Originally, there is a story that it was a riddle that was given to the hero of a heroic story in a distant foreign room.”
“… Have you ever heard of the name ‘The Prophet’?”
“No, there is none.”
“Then the monster called ‘The Prophet’s Beloved Follower’?”
“Neither does that. I’ve only heard it as a phrase of the Winglings’ agitation.”
Prophet.
It was the title of Astoria Magidora, a bicorn in Germanic mythology, but in fact, she is not necessarily the only prophet. Because she was only the last prophet.
The ‘beloved follower of the Prophet’ must be a monster who had been samba-shabba with some ‘prophet’ before her.
“Looks like you’re curious. But knowing it wouldn’t make any sense. They are extinct monsters of a bygone era.”
“Yes? It doesn’t make any sense. We even met face-to-face.”
“If you really did, are you a ghost talking to me? Or it could be the great hero who defeated that mythical being.”
“Grunt.”
When I was frustrated, my father-in-law, who had no beard, brushed her chin.
“It’s hard for me to believe that such a transcendent spirit or god exists. I wonder if it was a daydream, but… Perhaps you have really found the ‘traces’ of the trolls of that era.”
“Are you talking about an alter ego or something?”
Perhaps, like Odin in my dreams, it was a faint trace of the Age of Gods, who had already lost their powers and lives and remained in this world.
If so, it seemed to explain why there was no sense of intimidation compared to that enormous presence.
Even if you are afraid of cancer in a horror movie you watch in a movie theater, you do not feel the threat of your life that you may die there.
“Yes. Not all trolls are evil. I warned you, that troll may have been the one who looked after our ancestors in the past. That’s why I went looking for people who seemed to be able to see themselves, that is, you.”
“Maybe? He didn’t even know who he was.”
“Trolls lose their power when their names are revealed. If the body dies and the name is taken away, it is the same as non-existence. The sense of intimidation you felt was, so to speak, the feeling of getting goosebumps at the sight of a monster’s footprints, wouldn’t it? But I still have to do trick-or-treating.”
The father-in-law gave a thorough explanation, befitting a priest-father’s husband, and then she brought something from the warehouse.
It feels like a knitting picture woven beautifully with colorful threads, but it was as pretty as an arm as a tourist product somewhere. It looked like a carpet the size of a palm.
“It is an amulet made by dyeing magical grass and weaving it for three days and nights. Young people these days don’t believe it, but take care of it.”
“Oh, thank you. I will write it down.”
“There is nothing to be thankful for insignificant things. Frequent thanks take away the value and weight of words.”
Somehow, you can feel the scent of forage. I liked it so much that I laughed out loud.
I certainly didn’t feel any mana from the talisman, but I put it on.
It is a world where superstition is not superstition. It’s not a magic item because it doesn’t contain mana, but who else knows? Are there people in this region who like this kind of thing?
It’s because people don’t like gold because it has mana in it.
“Uh, what is it? Did you and your husband come back in francs?”
Then Dana opened the door to her house and said. It seemed that he had heard the conversation.
“Why are you talking outside? It’s cold, so let’s do it inside.”
“No, I was curious about something. I have to go in now.”
Me and Fran went into the house, suffocating.
Let’s have dinner tonight and get some rest.
Because you have to prepare for a fight tomorrow.
***
The next day, we had a light breakfast and left the village. It was because an agreement had been reached that the three of us could watch Berserks and Shobu as representatives of the Pict-in village.
If you make a mistake anyway, use your strength again to subdue it. It is said that they are a race that will accept and retreat no matter what happens if they win the battle.
And is it because of such a bloody explanation? I was subconsciously imagining those Winglings as “A bunch of crazy battle junkies with Mohicans on their heads, regardless of age or gender.”
But my expectations were misguided. It was because the Berserk I first met near the village was so unique.
[Who are you? Are you an intruder?]
It was a man curled up like a cat on a tree who spoke like that. I made an impression like someone who had seen the invisible.
Honestly, it is true that I was curious because I heard that they are people who have grown animal ears and tails.
However, the first Berserk I encountered was like a man in his 40s wearing cat ears and cat gloves.
It was a visual that seemed like a picture drawn by a female painter on Twitter had come out of reality, but as always with fetishes, there was nothing to say about the role when viewed from the point of view of the opposite sex.
[I am Dana Verbeia, the representative of the Picts. Can I meet the head of your village?]
When I didn’t want to talk with my mouth shut, Dana spoke.
Frank couldn’t speak or hear Ulster, so he clung to me and was silent.
[Stripe? It’s nap time for the mother in the middle of town. Go and wake yourself up.]
From what I’ve heard before coming here, “Mother” Is how the Winglings call their chieftain.
Dana said slightly perplexedly.
[… Nap? No, I’d like you to guide me anyway.]
[If it smells strange, it will wake up even if you leave it alone. Go now I will sleep.]
As if the cat had lost interest in it, he cut her arm again and fell asleep on the tree.
Is it because of the cat ears on his head? It gives me goosebumps because it looks like a concept shot for a pictorial aimed at middle-aged fetish women.
‘My first child.’
You’re a cat ear man! It’s a design that someone likes. Are there only idiots in this crazy world?
I internally chewed on the unknown god who created the race called Berserk, and immediately regretted it.
It was because when I entered the village surrounded by stone walls, men who were no different from the uncle from before were walking around.
It’s not like it’s some kind of Pokemon, but everyone has different animal parts, so it feels like they’re at a theme park.
Everyone glanced at us, then kept their distance as if they weren’t interested, doing their thing. It must be the reaction of lions when a zookeeper enters a cage without food.
It wasn’t what I was expecting, but there was no animal-eared beauty like a fantasy creature.
No, it seems to be somewhere, but at least it wasn’t in a conspicuous place.
She said that she wanted to become an invisible person and enter the women’s bath, but it was a frustration when the reality was pointed out that ‘if she entered the women’s bath, there were only her aunties and grandmothers’.
“I’m a bit disillusioned right now.”
“… If animal ears are good, we’ll do it for you later.”
Fran’s consolation seeps into his heart.
Yes. Is a pretty girl with cat ears a big deal? I have a wife who even puts a dog tail plug in her butt hole for one word.
Anyway, I gathered my heart and walked to the center of the village.
The village of Wingling Inn was quite an unusual place.
Are you curious about the houses built in a dry way? No. Rather, it was because there seemed to be no division of labor in this village.
Even rural villages in our developing country, Britannia, have at least inns and bakeries. Even in the colony of Ulster people, the division of labor into priests, warriors, blacksmiths, etc. Was done at least.
However, they all lived in the same house, and their appearance was almost the same. It felt like a hunting society.
[… A strange but familiar smell. Are you a friend of the Picts?]
As I was walking with the feeling of being on a bit of a tour, I heard a voice from a high place.
We raised our heads. Someone was looking down at us from an ignorantly large rock built in the middle of the village. Instinctively, I noticed that it was ‘Mother’, the breadwinner of this town.
Dana said as she frowned as if the backlight was blinding.
[Yeah. I’m here because I want you to stop the dispute with our village.]
[Why? I just fight and win and take the food. Aren’t your friends dead too? We don’t want to fight to the death with you either.]
It was a thought that was a wild animal itself.
It sounded like nothing, but it was a way of speaking that gave off the feeling of ‘this conversation won’t work,’ but Dana brought up the idea just in case.
[How about saving food or selling expensive items to buy them? It will be more convenient than fighting and fighting.]
[The kids who wanted to live like that left the village. So here, only the kids who don’t want to live like that are left.]
No fuck, what kind of rural village is this where all the young people have fled to the metropolitan area? I wondered why there were only so many old, crooked beasts.
For these people, hunting and plundering are like fishing and mountain climbing. Since there are no casualties, it can be tolerated, but there is nothing more difficult than asking old people to change their hobbies or existing ways.
[Whoa… Yes. I won’t ask you to stop with your bare mouth.]
Our Nunna was also an educated person who learned enough from the professors at Kkondae, so Dana sighed and said.
[──Let’s stick together. If we win, do us a favor.]
[Is it a territorial fight? Great.]
─Pat. ‘Mother’, who jumped at a height that would be a 5-story building without a sound, landed on the ground in silence as well.
Even her landing on all fours was animal-like, if not animal-like, but my jaw dropped at her appearance rather than her physical ability.
Plump animal ears with rich blonde hair. He is shorter than Fran, and his arms and legs are as small as he is.
[Hunting and fighting are always welcome. Because that is our specialty.]
The girl said excitedly, her eyes twinkling.
The ‘mother’ of Wingling In Village was a little girl who might have been 10 years old on the outside.
