Kartoffel Translations

Prev  |  TOC  |  Next Lizel was brought by the man who called himself Gil to a tavern. The interior leaned more toward a bar, but since they served proper meals and even had a few tables, it was probably better described as a tavern. It was still daylight, so there were few customers, but it would likely start to fill up soon. “Rent me the back room.” “Okay.” Gil spoke to the man behind the counter and placed a few silver coins on it. Lizel himself didn’t want their conversation overheard, so he had no reason to refuse. The man—most likely the tavern master—cast a quick glance their way. “Nice to meet you.” “...Yeah.” It was an odd pairing, clearly out of place, yet the man said nothing more. Thinking this was a rather fitting place for a private talk, Lizel followed Gil through the side door beside the counter. Inside was a small private room with a table for four. Compact, but comfortable enough. “You seem to have some pull around here, Mr. Gil.” “Just a familiar f...

　 Prev  |  TOC   |  Next "How awful..." It was the leader of the First Shooter Squad who muttered those words. Even for a sharpshooter in a guerilla unit, this was not something anyone should have to see. I had no intention of sugarcoating it. Death was a constant companion for us, the ones who commanded the guerilla forces and hunted down monsters and magical beasts. And during this campaign, we had “educated” the Empire. If one chose to step into a death trap, one had to be prepared to die. And yet... the carnage before my eyes had far surpassed anything I had imagined. The soldiers who had been crushed to death when the Forest Striders toppled over and crushed their transport baskets had been the lucky ones. Not long after, when our guerilla forces arrived to deal with the remains, we had buried as many as we could. But those who survived... their fate had been different. We had no grudge against them once they had lost their means of advancing. We simply regarded...

Prev  |  TOC   |  Next It was no different from declaring that a trial had been planted along the path of this expedition. The Estarian elders had likely crafted this ordeal as a measure to judge whether or not they should engage with outsiders. Even if someone managed to reach them, those who thought like the ancient Estal people would find no meaning in exchange. Such was the stance of the Estarians who lived in penance. It wouldn’t be surprising if they had arrived at such a conclusion. “I see. So this is the place the elders fear, the one your people deem dangerous. That alone says much—it must be a harsh land.” “Yes. Once you step into the mid-level zone from here, it’ll be difficult for us to meet again. We might be able to talk here at this spot, but...” “I understand. Until I make it through the Middle Forest, I shouldn’t expect your help. A ‘trial,’ is it...? Still, I’ll keep moving forward—bit by bit.” “That determination of yours... I don’t dislike it. Go...