The town was quieter than expected.
Stores lined the area around the large religious building, but they were all shuttered. In their place, grimy men loitered about. They looked like bandits through and through.
Maomao
was
with Xiaohong,
being led away by the middle-aged man. The bandits eyed them with appraising looks, but when the middle-aged man glared at them, they averted their gazes.
This town appeared to already be under the bandits' control. Thieves produced nothing of value. Once they had stripped this town bare, they would surely move on elsewhere.
Still, Maomao exhaled in relief, confident that her judgment had been correct. The middle-aged man was not a bad choice as a negotiating partner.
First, he was a follower of this church. Second, he held a certain degree of established status.
She had already confirmed he was a believer from the pattern on the necklace. As for his status, she had examined his appearance. The middle-aged man wore a filthy overcoat. He didn't look wealthy by any means, but from a bandit's perspective, it told a different story. His curved blade, his weapon of choice, had been carefully sharpened. The filthy overcoat was also made of sturdy fur that wouldn't tear from a light slash.
With ruffians like bandits, power translated directly into authority. She judged that his equipment reflected his standing.
As a result, Maomao's neck was bloody where the blade's tip had grazed her. Not much blood had come out and it scabbed over quickly, but it looked like far more than it actually was, which worried Xiaohong.
(This child has been so wonderfully well-behaved, thank goodness. But...)
When anxiety built up, Xiaohong had a habit of eating her own hair. There were documented cases of people consuming foreign objects under psychological stress, and this was likely one of them.
"In here."
Maomao and the others were led into the church at the center of town.
(What religion was it again?)
She had asked Suzume about it, but the pronunciation was difficult and Maomao couldn't quite remember.
Lounging importantly in the center of the chapel was a man around thirty. One of his eyes had been crushed in by a wound, giving him an exceedingly menacing appearance. He wore exotic-looking clothing—a sleeveless garment with a fox pelt draped over his shoulders.
A place meant for praying to the gods had been heaped with layers of fur pelts, with wine bottles and meat scattered about as he slept. Two frightened women stood nearby, waiting to attend to him.
"Chief, I've brought them."
The middle-aged man said.
(Younger than I expected?)
She had imagined someone older. His bulging muscles were impressive—he had likely risen to the top through sheer strength.
"So that's her?"
"Yes."
Maomao wondered what "that one" was supposed to mean.
"Hmm. Don't you need a woman to bring along?"
"...She'd be overlooked on account of being from the same sect. She should be useful enough as a cook."
(A woman to bring along? Overlooked?)
This seemed a bit off from what Maomao had expected. It was almost as if she herself wasn't their original target.
(If it's not me...)
Her gaze turned toward Xiaolian.
The leader slowly rose to his feet. His massive bear-like frame towered before Xiaolian. Xiaolian, tears welling in her eyes, stepped behind Maomao.
"Hmm. Hey."
"Yes?"
"Where's the wanted poster?"
The women flinched but timidly produced a piece of sheepskin paper. The leader unfolded it and compared it to Xiaolian.
"Looks like her... or maybe not?"
(A portrait?)
A child's face and distinguishing features were drawn on it. Maomao recognized this style of portrait.
(Could this be...)
It seemed to resemble the foreign young lady Maomao had seen the other day.
(No, surely not...)
Maomao looked at Xiaolian. Her hair was quite light in color. From a distance, she could easily be mistaken for a foreigner. Her eyes weren't blue, but you might not notice that from far away.
(But there's an age difference.)
Xiaolian was at most about seven years old. Even being generous, ten would be the limit.
In contrast, that young lady with the cavity had appeared to be around fourteen, but—
(Foreigners tend to look more mature, so...)
I had figured she was maybe twelve or thirteen at most.
(No, wait—)
She'd heard that foreigners measured age not by the traditional count but by the actual date of birth. If you counted one year after birth as turning one year old, then having ten written as your age wouldn't be strange at all.
Maomao sneaked a glance at the sketch. Several notes had been scribbled on it.
(Light blonde hair, blue eyes, age eleven...)
Since none of them actually had blue eyes, she'd have thought he could tell they were different people, but the head hadn't noticed a thing.
There was one more notable detail.
(Possibly cross-dresses as a woman)
Now the reason she and the others had been captured was clear.
"Ugh, screw it! You said it was a guy, didn't you? Just strip 'em, strip 'em!"
As he reached to grab Xiao Hong's hand, Maomao stepped forward.
"Huh?"
The head's grumpy voice.
Maomao nearly flinched but swallowed hard.
"There's no need to trouble yourself. She's a girl."
Maomao pushed Xiao Hong to stand in front.
"Just bear with it for a moment."
Shoving Xiao Hong, who looked ready to burst into tears, forward,
she hiked up
the hem of her skirt. If they could see she was a woman, that should settle it.
Just then, a woman who had been pouring drinks came over.
"O-One-Eyed Dragon, sir. Allow me to confirm."
"...Mm. Fine."
Apparently the head was called the One-Eyed Dragon.
(One-Eyed Dragon, huh?)
Maomao was impressed that they'd given her such a grand name. It was supposed to be the courtesy name of some old general.
The woman approached and tearfully grabbed Xiao Hong's skirt.
"I'm sorry."
"..."
The woman, though she had a small child of her own, had apparently come as a substitute so that Xiao Hong wouldn't be shamed. When she confirmed there was nothing on Xiao Hong's crotch, she looked at the One-Eyed Dragon with a relieved expression.
"It's a girl."
"...A girl, is it? Who was the fool who said the next carriage coming would be suspicious?"
"The man we planted in the neighboring town."
"Then give him a hundred lashes and three days without food."
"Understood."
The middle-aged man went about his work in silence.
"Ah, damn it! I was sure I'd finally get to put"
the Owl
"in his place."
The One-Eyed Dragon stomped his feet like a child throwing a tantrum. His massive frame made the ground shake.
(The Owl, you say?)
Maomao threw herself over Xiao Hong protectively. Xiao Hong had gone pale upon hearing her uncle's name. It would be bad if they realized she knew him.
(What on earth has that older brother gotten himself into?)
It was all because of that foreign girl with the cavities—or rather, that kid with the cavities. She'd seemed like a sheltered, protected girl, but apparently she was quite an important figure.
(And the reason I'm running is so that)
Jinshi
(doesn't get hurt by this.)
There had to be some political motive behind that cavity kid.
"What should we do with these ones?"
The middle-aged man asked the One-Eyed Dragon what to do with Maomao and the others.
"Yeah. I'll leave it to you. Do as you please."
Whether he had completely lost interest or was simply sulking, he curled up on his fur-lined bed. He looked like a bear or a tiger.
"Hey."
The middle-aged man called to the woman who had been apologizing to Xiaohong.
"Show them around. Same sect."
"Understood."
The woman bowed respectfully to the middle-aged man. She seemed terrified of the One-Eyed Dragon, but appeared to feel genuine respect toward the middle-aged man.
"This way."
Maomao and the others had no choice but to follow the woman.