Episode 66: Lacha Lake

It was the second day since Diara's wagon had left the Grand Market and taken the northern road from the crossroads, with Nia now part of the group. By fortunate chance, they encountered a nomadic family crossing the plains and were able to purchase a sheep, allowing them to hold a modest welcome party for Nia.

Thanks to the nomads generously sharing liquor made from mare's milk stored in a large wooden barrel, the gathering took on the proper air of a celebration.

Afterward, Diara's wagon continued across the plains for several days, finally reaching the northern edge of the Levados plains.

The party was greeted by a forest of towering reddish-brown trees as they left the plains behind. These were colossal trees, so tall that one had to crane their neck and lean back almost to the point of lying down on horseback to catch a glimpse of their tops.

As if they had entered a land of giants, the travelers felt impossibly small under the gaze of these skyward-reaching trees. Entranced by their majesty, Diara's wagon moved deeper into the forest.

"It's said that trees from the realm of the gods fell to this mortal world and began to grow, spreading across the continent."

Diara explained to Nia, who was staring upward in a daze.

"No one dared to give a name to these divine trees, so they're simply called 'Red Trees.'"

"I've never seen trees this big before…" Nia murmured.

"The largest ones are said to reach over 200 cubits (100 meters) in height." Diara continued.

"Trees that have grown for over 2,000 years, three times larger than the Red Trees around us now. Just imagine that."

Nia's eyes widened as she listened intently to Diara's explanation. Gravel, riding alongside the wagon, seemed accustomed to Diara's tales by now. He held a pen in hand, sketching the Red Trees surrounding them, the wagon, and the riders passing through the forest.

"Diara, are we heading to Lacha-Walia today, then?" Kein asked, guiding his horse closer to the wagon.

"No, we'll camp by the lake on the opposite side of Lacha-Walia before sunset." Diara replied.

"And instead of taking the route around Latela Mountain from Lacha-Walia, I plan to cross through the mountain itself."

Kein froze, as if time had stopped, unable to react. After replaying Diara's words in his mind several times, he finally spoke again.

"How do you plan to cross that treacherous Latela Mountain without preparation? And what about our Droko friend? Nia's sensitive to the cold, right?"

"I'm fine." Nia interjected, overhearing the conversation.

"I have a Mooloomook fur coat in my pack."

"Ahem." Kein coughed, shooting a pleading glance at Reave with a subtle wink, hoping for support.

"He's right." Reave said, riding up beside Kein to lend weight to his argument.

"It's better to take a few extra days and go around the mountain from Lacha-Walia."

"Don't worry." Diara replied in a calm tone, contrasting the concern in Reave and Kein's voices.

"We're heading to the farmstead of the Knights of the Hidden Moon at the base of Latela Mountain. Passing through there will actually let us leave the forest faster. The route crosses the gentlest ridge, so it won't be as grueling as you think."

"A farmstead?" Reave asked, surprised.

"A farmstead?" Kein echoed.

"Yes, a small farmstead where they research new farming techniques and crops." Diara explained.

"We should arrive there by the afternoon, two days from now."

"Alright! Let's head to Lacha Lake before sunset, then."

Reave said with a grin, turning to Gravel.

"This is our chance to use that fishing rod you showed us last time, Gravel! Lacha Lake is famous for its big trout."

"Haha, I'll do my best." Gravel replied.

That afternoon, as the sky turned red with the setting sun, the party arrived at the shores of Lacha Lake. Tall Red Trees soared toward the heavens, and gentle breezes wove through them, rustling around the group as they prepared their camp.

The wagon was parked by the lake, and beside it, a bonfire lit by Reave and Kein burned brightly before they ventured into the nearby forest to gather mushrooms and herbs for dinner.

Having traveled together from Froikton to Lacha Lake, the group had grown accustomed to their roles. Each knew their tasks, and after completing them, they spent their small moments of free time in their own way—a routine that had become familiar, unlike the ever-changing landscapes of their journey.

Nia, who had spent the day sitting beside Diara memorizing the locations and names of mana veins, rushed into the forest as soon as the wagon stopped. Nia returned with an armful of branches for firewood, dropped them off, and immediately ran to Iris to ask for swordsmanship lessons.

After parking the wagon, Diara stretched her stiff body from driving all day and sat by the bonfire. Using thin twigs, she traced the magical circle for Fox Flame that Gravel had taught her, studying her newly learned spell.

Gravel, meanwhile, was fishing. He sat on a large rock jutting out over the lake, casting a fishing rod made of Wivre Nest wood, which he had purchased at great expense in the Grand Market. Unable to find worms for bait, he attached a small piece of jerky to the hook, swung the rod, and cast the line far into the lake.

He tightened the line with a few turns of the reel, making a soft clicking sound. The lake's surface shimmered red in the fading sunlight. Gravel focused intently on the painted wooden float bobbing on the water.

"Hmm… maybe jerky isn't the right bait?" he muttered, one knee raised, holding the rod in one hand and resting his chin in the other.

'Who said fishing is about leisurely catching time and casting away worldly worries?'

Gravel thought. Instead, his mind grew cluttered with doubts. 'Should I change the bait?' 'Is the hook the right size?' 'Should I cast again?' Blinking, he stared at the float, his thoughts growing increasingly tangled. A small wave, carried by a breeze across the lake, lapped against the shore below the rock with a soft splash.

Just as he sighed deeply, staring at the float amidst his swirling thoughts, a small blue bird approached. Folding its disproportionately large wings, it landed lightly and hopped toward Gravel. After circling him and confirming he hadn't caught a single fish, the bird spread its wings again and flew off toward the sky above the lake.

"Sorry… I'm a novice angler, so I don't even have fish for you to steal."

Gravel murmured, squinting against the glare of the setting sun reflected on the water as he watched the bird's wings flap away.

In the distance, near the parked wagon, Iris and Nia's sword training was in full swing. The clanging of swords, the scuff of boots on the earth, and Nia's spirited shouts carried all the way to where Gravel sat.

Refocusing, Gravel stared at the float with intense determination.

"Wait—did the float just move?"

Ripples spread across the water, and the float twitched.

"Should I pull?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Gravel lifted the rod.

"Whoa! I think I've got something!"

He felt a tug on the line, a flapping resistance. But the struggle didn't last long. A fish, barely two handspans long, was hooked. Its back was a deep indigo, its belly silver-white, with dark brown spots along its sides.

"Is this… a trout? It looks kind of like one…" Gravel mused, watching the fish flop on the rock.

"It's probably edible, right? One's not enough, though. Let's catch more."

He re-baited the hook with another piece of jerky and cast the line again, this time farther than before. The sky had grown darker, its red hue deepening.

Gravel heard Kein and Reave's voices, signaling their return from the forest. Reave waved enthusiastically at him from afar. Moments later, Reave approached.

"How's it going? Catch anything?" Reave asked, striding over.

"Just one." Gravel replied, holding up a single finger with a chuckle.

"Oh? A trout?" Reave crouched by the fish Gravel had caught.

"Kein and I gathered some wild carrots and chanterelle mushrooms in the forest. If you can catch a few more like this one, we can cook them together…"

"Haha, I'll try my best."

Gravel said, smiling at Reave before turning his focus back to the float.

Soon, a gentle breeze rippled the water, nudging the float.

"Hm?"

Noticing the float move in a way distinct from the wind's effect, Gravel's eyes widened. He furrowed his brow, staring intently.

"Gravel! Isn't that a bite?" Reave exclaimed.

"Is it? It's moving kind of ambiguously—argh!"

Zzzzt!

Before Gravel could finish, the line yanked hard, the reel spinning as the fish pulled.

"Whoa!"

Gravel had thought fishing was an art of patience, a way to let time flow and catch moments of tranquility. But the hook, lodged in the fish's mouth, ignored all poetic notions of fishing. It bent the rod with such force it seemed ready to snap, far from the leisurely pastime Gravel had imagined. This was a raw battle of strength—a duel between an angler seeking to catch life and a fish fighting to preserve it. The serene fishing Gravel had envisioned was nowhere to be found.

"It's a big one! Look at how the rod's bending!" Reave shouted.

A heavy force tugged at the line from below the surface. Gravel, now standing, gripped the reel with one hand to stop more line from spooling out and held the bending rod with the other.

Is this going to break? Gravel glanced between the taut line and the strained rod, worried about his expensive Wivre Nest rod as he battled the fish.

'Should I just use magic? No, let's do this purely. I've decided to take up this hobby, after all…'

For a moment, he considered using magic to end the struggle but quickly dismissed the idea, tightening his grip on the rod.

"Try reeling it in slowly." Reave advised.

"It seems to be tiring out."

"Got it!"

Gravel bent his knees, leaned back, and began reeling. Click, click, click. With each turn of the reel, he pulled the rod, repeating the motion until the fish drew closer.

"Wow! Look at the size of that head! Did you see it? It's massive!" Reave shouted as a dark bronze-colored fish broke the surface with a splash.

"I'm not sure the rod can handle this." Gravel muttered.

The rod thrashed as the fish fought, the line spooling out again as it tried to widen the distance. But Gravel stopped it, gripping the reel firmly.

"It's almost out of strength." Reave said.

"Reel it in slowly now."

With Reave's encouragement, Gravel wound the reel steadily, and the battle neared its end. The fish was too large to haul onto the rock, so Gravel and Reave descended to the shore below, pulling the yellow-bellied, gasping fish onto land.

"It's a Blindfish! It's got to be at least 2 cubits (1 meter) long!" Reave exclaimed.

"Blindfish? That's an odd name."

"Look at its eyes, and you'll understand."

Reave said, pointing to the fish's head.

The fish's eyes, unlike those of ordinary fish, were cloudy, shrouded in a misty gray.

"I see. That's why it's called a Blindfish." Gravel said, nodding.

"Hehe, I knew you'd get it." Reave grinned.

"Tonight's dinner is going to be luxurious. Fish dishes paired with the mushrooms we gathered—it'll be a fantastic meal."

That evening, as Reave predicted, the meal of Blindfish cooked with golden chanterelle mushrooms transformed the campsite dinner into a lavish feast. Despite being a freshwater fish, the Blindfish had no muddy taste, its tender and mild flavor delighting the group. The trout, though not bad, was somewhat overshadowed, but Nia, who devoured it in one bite, declared it delicious when asked for Nia's opinion by Reave and Kein.

Another day of their long journey came to a close. The cold breeze blowing across the lake couldn't rouse the travelers, who slumbered soundly in their portable bedding, warmed by the bonfire's glow and the coziness of their blankets.