Escort Duty for Logging Preparations
“Hey Mongrel, wanna help out with a logging escort mission?”
The moment I visited the guild that day, Barlgar, who was standing at the reception desk, tossed the offer my way.
“Yeah, sure.”
I agreed without hesitation. I’d been itching to take on some random job anyway, so this worked out perfectly.
“…Mongrel-san, could you at least confirm the mission details before accepting? It’s part of the rules, you know.”
“Elena, you’re way too serious.”
“With that attitude, you’ll never find a husband! Hahaha!”
“Ugh, you two are so annoying!”
“Nah, I wasn’t even thinking like that… Don’t drag me into this…”
M-o-n-g-r-e-l. Signature—done. Feels like it’s been a while since I joined a joint mission.
“Mongrel-san, could you at least write a little neater!?”
“Man, she’s so pissed she’s nitpicking stuff she usually wouldn’t… Cut me some slack, this is just how my handwriting is.”
“Hahaha. This guy can write proper reports, but his handwriting’s absolute trash.”
Hey, I put effort into making it messy on purpose, y’know? A little appreciation for the craft would be nice.
“Whoa, the road’s gotten way longer.”
“You haven’t been down this way lately, Mongrel? Ever since the snow melted, the construction’s been insane.”
“I’ve been sticking to the northern routes recently. Didn’t realize it’d expanded this much just from looking away for a bit.”
We boarded an open-top wagon with the other guild members, heading east into Baroa from the Charle Highway.
The wheel ruts that used to stop near the forest now extended deeper into the woods. I’d heard the logging was progressing quickly, but damn—this pace was something else. Must’ve been hell uprooting all those stumps.
“Shortage of building materials, shortage of fuel, but the kingdom’s got money to burn. So yeah, this was bound to happen. If the Legol County were richer, they’d probably strip the whole forest bare!”
“Hahaha, then we’d just have a shortage of wood—not much better.”
Honestly, if this town ever got into iron smelting, it wouldn’t be impossible.
The moment someone tries to power a factory with charcoal, the forests would vanish in an instant. Baroa timber grows fast and packs serious heat—it’s top-tier material. But even that can’t stand up to human demand. Doesn’t matter how many monsters are out there—it’d be stripped clean. …Really hope it doesn’t come to that.
Oh, and there’s another thing. Even if rail transport gets invented, the forests are doomed anyway.
Sure, it’d make shipping goods way easier, and all of Harpelia would prosper. But say I spread rail technology across the kingdom—once it leaks to Sunglaire, we’re screwed.
A country drowning in iron, obsessed with mining? If they get their hands on rail transport, Harpelia’s done for. That’s why I’ve kept rail tech under wraps. Not even a hint.
“Whoa, a Silver and a Bronze. That’s reassuring. We’re trying to stick together, but the work’s split up a lot—so we’ll be spread thin. If we get ambushed then… Well, don’t leave us hanging, alright?”
“Yeah, leave it to us. I’m the ‘Sword of Harvest,’ and Mongrel here might look under-geared, but he’s solid. You’re in good hands.”
“You dissing my bastard sword?”
“Nah, I’m more worried about your light armor. At least carry a buckler or something—clients get nervous.”
“Shut up. As long as I’ve got this, I’m good.”
“Hahaha… Well, if you can protect us, that’s all that matters. We’re counting on you.”
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Today’s mission was escorting logging workers.
The winter logging had been a quantity-over-quality rush job, hacking down trees from the outer forest. But this time, it was about precision—selecting specific trees and marking them with colored ropes.
They’d pick mature Baroa trees, tag them, and later, the loggers would cut them down.
Sounds simple, right? Just tying ropes? But the survey areas were deep, untouched parts of the forest—meaning the terrain was absolute hell.
We were just escorts, but we’d be swinging our swords constantly, hacking through thickets and clearing branches.
Well, in the long run, those trimmed branches would dry into firewood, so it wasn’t a bad deal… but damn, it was exhausting work.
“! Sorry, goblins. Handle it?”
“Yeah, got it. Fall back slowly, alright?”
“Understood.”
In the dense forest, you often don’t notice monsters until they’re right on top of you.
Especially short-ass goblins—they hide in bushes and tall grass. Unpredictable little freaks, popping up where you least expect them.
“Please be quiet—you’re disrupting the work. There.”
“G-GYAGYAGYAA… G-GK!”
I thrust my bastard sword like a rapier, skewering its eye in one quick motion.
Brain-pierced, the goblin died instantly. …Ugh, brain matter… Well, whatever. I was gonna cut its nose off anyway—may as well.
“Goblins over here too!”
While I was carving up the nose, Barlgar’s voice rang out.
“Tough one? Need backup?”
“Nah!”
Glancing over, I saw Barlgar stab a goblin straight through the heart with his short spear—no shield needed. With a spear’s reach, goblins are no threat.
“You’re a lifesaver. We’ve got enough to carry and think about—fighting goblins is just a hassle…”
“Ah, want me to take some of those ropes off your hands? Looks heavy.”
“You sure? That’d be a huge help…”
“I’ve got strength to spare. Don’t hesitate to ask during the mission.”
“Then… I’ll take you up on that. Thanks. My knees haven’t been great lately…”
This guy’s probably more used to trekking through forests than I am, but age does a number on the joints.
A universal human struggle—backs and knees, man…
We ran into a few more goblins later, handling them easily with Barlgar.
Along the way, I plucked petals from evening primroses for fun and gathered some useful herbs. Not often you get to explore untouched areas—plenty of wild plants to harvest.
“Ugh…”
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
“…Evilflies.”
“Seriously? Ugh, yep.”
Through the trees, silver Evilflies glowed ominously.
…Wind’s not blowing our way, but if they spot us, they might take flight. If that happens, the old man’s gonna get hit with memory-erasing scales.
Lose your memory this deep in the woods, and good luck finding your way back. Plus, I don’t remember the path we took. Gotta take them out without exposing the workers, then neutralize the scales’ effect.
“Barlgar.”
“Yeah. …I’ll handle it.”
“You sure? You won’t screw up? If you’re not confident, I’ll do it.”
We huddled up for a quick strategy chat. Having someone reliable in these moments is great—no pointless arguments.
With a bad party, Evilflies alone can cause all kinds of drama.
“Nah, I got this. If I get hit now… my memory’ll probably roll back to around the start of the mission. But I remember the job, so I’ll be fine. Mongrel, guard these two. And uh… explain things to me afterward.”
“…That’s a pain, so I kinda wanted you to let me handle it.”
“Dumbass. Like I’d trust you with something this important.”
Barlgar smirked, jabbed my shoulder, then hoisted his spear and crept toward the Evilflies.
“Alright, hand over those compound eyes.”
The Evilfly sensed him, wings fluttering as it scattered scales.
No way to block magic scales—inhale or touch, and your memory’s gone. At this point, Barlgar’s amnesia was guaranteed.
“HRAHH!”
But he knew that. Closing the distance fast, he slashed open its soft belly with the spear’s sharp tip.
As the butterfly dropped, he finished it off and swiftly carved out its compound eyes. Brushing off the scales, he soon returned.
“Done.”
“Good work. Glad it didn’t get away.”
“Like I’d screw that up.”
Laughing, Barlgar tucked the eyes into his bag.
…Soon, his memories would vanish. Meaning his thoughts in this moment would disappear too. A loss of continuity—almost like experiencing death.
In moments like these, inexperienced parties say things they shouldn’t or confess hidden feelings.
The infighting caused by Evilflies? Probably stems from that reckless, desperate mindset. That’s my theory.
“Alright, time for training! HUP! HAH!”
“Whoa, Barlgar, we’re on a mission.”
“No better time to do the brutal training I always skip! And when I forget, I still keep the gains!”
But veterans? They use the memory loss to power through stuff they’d normally avoid.
Still, doing push-ups mid-mission? Really? You’re gonna be exhausted if we run into monsters. We’re on escort duty, man.
“…Huh!?”
“Ah, memories gone.”
“Why am I so tired…? Oh, Evilflies!?”
“…Barlgar, this habit of yours isn’t healthy.”
But luck was on our side—no more monsters, and the mission wrapped up smoothly.
Though if we’d run into a deer or boar, I wonder if he’d have been able to fight properly… Maybe this mix of skill and bad luck is what makes a veteran. Nah, probably not.
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