"Come on, let us celebrate! you too, join us!"
"We always show our appreciation for Lord Vikir's statue like this at night."
"He is the reason we survived the attack that day ,we survived because he stopped that giant beast!"
"what's happening my friend. you're a peculiar young fella, you are heartless! put more energy into it! clap harder! Come on, mate!"
was said as the guards of the Red Salt Castle looked at Vikir's statue and clapped twelve times at mid-night on the hour.
The passersby can tell the time by the sound of the guards' clapping.
Vikir observed the faces of the guards who forced him to clap, one by one.
Around two years ago, in the Depth's of the Red and Black Mountains. The faces of those who ran away from Madame Eight-legs.
Some of them looked like the soldiers he'd seen then.
The hairy man who served Vikir the glass of milk chuckled.
"Anyway, if you don't know Vikir's name in this region then you're a spy. Of course, it's a bit of an exaggeration to say that the rumor has reached the other side of the world. Still, the rumors are true. If it's not, why would the House of Morg have offered such a large amount of gold to honor his achievements?"
It is said that every year, politicians and nobles from neighbouring cities come to pay their respects and perform ceremonies in front of the giant golden statue.
Vikir sighed, pressing his hood deeper into his face.
Sure, he'd achieved a lot in the depths two years ago, but most of his accomplishments... had been grossly exaggerated.
Not only did I kill thousands of natives in one fell swoop, but I also rescued the allied armies of Morgue and Baskerville, and even rescued Morg's fragile (?) Barren Jade Leaf.
To be clear, it was Adolf Morg who did the most damage that night.
Vikir had merely lessened the amount of time for them catch up to the barbarians at night.
'..., though I did play the role of a martyr against Madame at the end.'
Vikir sipped his milk and reminisced.
'Anyway. It was clear that all that was accomplished by Morg Adolf ,and the combined forces of Morg and Baskerville armies that night were ,warped and twisted into the credit of one man, Vikir.
Just as Vikir was trying to figure out how to make sense of this situation.
Creak.
Suddenly, the door to the inn burst open.
The sound of the fish boiling, the smell of the skewers cooking in the salt, the heat of the pork lard sizzling, all of it vanished in an instant.
The night breeze swept away the hot, thick and dirty air of the tavern.
The night breeze came in the from behind of three women in long robes.
With their thick eyebrows, catlike eyes, and beautiful features, the three women could be triplets.
Upon seeing them, the guards rose to their feet in unison and saluted.
"Loyalty, we greet the commanders of the fortress!"
Their change in posture drew Vikir's attention.
Vikir looked at the three women as they entered the tavern.
"...!"
He had seen them before, if he recalled correctly
They were the Three Flowers of Morg, or the Three Misfortunes.
Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis.
Specializing in grass, earth, and water magic, they walked up to the table with their distinctive red hair and sat down.
The men's eyes were momentarily dazed by their beauty, but they could not make a mistake.
Neither could Vikir, especially because the triplets' personalities were truly terrifying.
"What were they talking about that was so funny?"
"The obvious. It's midnight, they're probably clapping again."
"Were they talking about Mr. Vikir?"
The guards answered the triplets' question with a roar.
"Yes, we were!"
Then the eldest, Highsis, laughed as she grabbed the cold mug of beer in front of her.
"Ho-ho-ho-it's no wonder, for his accomplishments are great, and I still get a thrill thinking about how I felt when I saw him that day."
The rookie guards' eyes sparkle at Highsis's words.
"Did you ever meet Him in person, Commander?"
"Of course."
Highsis and the other two sisters narrowed their eyes and laughed.
"When I first saw him, I thought he was just a pretty boy, but I got to know him during our time together in the fortress. I saw him for who he really was: someone incredibly kind and charismatic."
Vikir, standing right next to her, could hardly believe his ears.
He remembered his first encounter with them as less than pleasant.
But for some reason, the sisters Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis seemed to remember their time with Vikir as something truly beautiful.
"He was wonderful. I honestly spent the whole time he was living in the fortress ogling him."
"Though we only bumped into each other a few times in the mess hall."
"We did see each other at the cotton field boundary, however, though we didn't get a chance to have a long talk before the three Baskervilles interrupted us. If I'd known this was going to happen, I would have talked to him at a bit more."
She took the guards aside and began to chatter.
The woman who had been so unfriendly to them earlier noticed and politely served them drinks and snacks.
Vikir sat alone at a distant table, listening carefully to the triplets' story.
He hoped to hear at least a little of what had been going on in Morg and Baskerville.
The triplets were quite talkative, and Vikir was able to get plenty of information out of them.
The changes since Vikir's disappearance two years ago and the eventual declaration if his death were astonishing.
The most shocking was the number of times Hugo Les Baskerville had visited Morg in a furious rage.
And that the Morg rewarded the Baskervilles diplomatically with an enormous amount of money.
Despite this, Hugo Les Baskervilles did not relent in his anger.
And finally, that only a few weeks ago, Morg Camus had personally led a search party through the depths of the Red and Black Mountains.
Vikir had accepted all of this with a grimace.
Well, if Hugo was upset about his disappearance, it was because he'd lost a useful hound.
And if he's still angry, it's because he thinks the reward given by the Morg's is too small.
The only thing that seems surprising is that Camus still hasn't forgotten Vikir after two years.
Until just a few weeks ago, she had been steadfastly leading a search party through the depths, and then she suddenly disappeared.
...Rumor has it, she's gone into hiding deep within her family and gone into retirement?
Whatever.
The triplets told Vikir's story, subtly bragging to the guards about their experiences and connections.
"By the way, that golden statue over there doesn't even capture half of Vikir's true appearance. It's a shame, because if he were still alive, he'd be a good match for me by now."
"Who's paired with whom? That's ridiculous, if he were alive, I'd definitely be the one to pick him up."
"Don't fight, sisters. We'll all get along, What man would turn down the three of us?"
But then the triplets' sisters all silence at once.
"What's the use of fighting, he's already gone."
A somber mood settled over the tavern for a moment.
By this time, Vikir had gotten up and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
He couldn't wait to get to his room and lay down.
He was tired of listening to his own story, which was becoming unfamiliar.
Then.
Unfortunately, out of the corner of her eye, Highsis caught sight of Vikir's hood.
"you there! Your outfit is suspicious. Get over here!"
She wasn't in the mood for a little teasing, so she immediately used the fortress commander's powers to stop and search.
Vikir paused in while moving up the stairs.
If he took off his hood here, the atmosphere would be overwhelming.
He considered pretending he hadn't heard and continuing up the stairs, but that would only fuel Highsis's foul temper.
"Hey! Stop! Can't you hear me?"
The guard next to me spoke.
"Miss. I bought this kid a glass of milk earlier... and he isn't suspicious."
"Shut up, at this time of night, the natives outside are strangely quiet, we should be more vigilant!"
Highsis leapt to her feet.
He stretched out her hand towards Vikir.
A powerful stream of mana swirled around Vikir.
"Bind!"
The wooden railings of the staircase creaked, and long vines grew around Vikir, trying to wrap around him.
But.
Whirik-
Vikir flew out of the way easily, avoiding the grasp of vines.
Highsis's eyes widen at the sight, as do those of Midsis and Lowsis, and those who were standing behind them, looking impressed .
The men of the guard beside him were so surprised that they spat out their drinks.
They hadn't expected him to be able to evade the magic of Morg's three sisters so easily, especially since it came from Highsis, the strongest of the three.
"...shit."
Vikir sensed that things were getting troublesome.
He thought about hiding in the night, but Morg's trio were no match for him.
The three sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis, quickly rose to their feet and drew upon their magic.
The guards, who had been laughing and talking a moment ago, also drew their swords, bows, staves, and magic, and surrounded Vikir with a sharp edge.
"Who are you, remove your hood and reveal your identity!"
Highsis shouted sharply.
Vikir sighed softly.
He might be able to escape, but it would turn the entire fortress upside down.
He didn't trust himself to escape without spilling blood.
And it wasn't as if he needed to wear a hood to disguise himself in the first place.
'I'm on my way to inform Baskerville that I'm back anyway....'
Whether Baskerville or Morg found out first was merely a matter of sequence.
Eventually, Vikir obediently stopped and raised his hands.
Then, under the watchful eyes of all, he slowly pulled back his hood.
....
The moment Vikir's hood came off, revealing his face.
"...Uh-oh."
"...Ahhhhhhhhh."
"...Ahhhhhhhhhhhh."
The triplets exclaim in unison.
It's not a reaction to seeing a familiar face, it's purely a reaction to Vikir's appearance.
And then.
One by one, they begin to realize that Vikir's face bears a striking resemblance to something.
Several guards slowly turn their heads to stare at the face of the golden statue outside the window.
"...?"
Then they turn again and stare at the face of Vikir, standing on the railing of the stairs.
"...!"
And they go stiff.
The shock spreads to every man in the guard. It spreads to every man in the tavern, and even to Morg's three sisters, Highsis, Midsis, and Lowsis.
Soon, all who recognized Vikir's face stood with their mouths agape and their index fingers trembling.
"Vi, vi, vi, vi, vi, vi...."
Vikir Van Baskerville. The missing hound of the Iron-Blooded.
The hero of the Red Salt has returned.