Published: February 1, 2026
“Between Sars and Astarnia, which do you prefer?”
“Huh?”
Standing on the edge of a sheer cliff whose bottom couldn’t be seen, with only the howling wind for company, Lizel spoke.
They were on an open highland with not a single tree in sight nearby, overlooking a majestic valley. As the ceaseless wind blew his hair into his face, Lizel tucked it behind his ear and asked Gill his question, his gaze still fixed down into the ravine.
Gill frowned as he looked at him, wondering why Lizel always started conversations with questions out of nowhere.
One of Lizel’s hands was extended forward, holding a rope that led down the cliff face. The rope swayed occasionally, as if he were fishing for something, and it bore a weight no normal person could support with one arm. You’d never guess it from Lizel’s relaxed posture.
“Big Brother, a little lower—”
“Yeah.”
At the voice rising from below the cliff, he loosened his grip on the rope.
With a hiss of speed that would have burnt bare hands, the rope began to drop. Lizel immediately tightened his grip. There was a brutal jolt as the weight snapped taut, but his arm didn’t so much as twitch.
“Too close! Can’t you be a little gentler?!”
“Shut up.”
“Are you alright, Eleven? Want me to take over?”
“Leader, I’m begging you, just sit still.”
Waving a hand up at the figure leaning over the edge, telling him to move back before he fell, Eleven planted his boots on the cliff face to cancel out the sudden fall, muttering complaints about who was going to compensate him if the soles got worn down.
He was sitting on a looped rope like a swing, his waist in the loop, his hands holding the rope above to keep his torso upright. The other end of that rope was, of course, in Gill’s hand. He knew he wouldn’t be dropped on purpose, but having his literal lifeline in someone else’s grip still left him with a few complaints.
And if he refused the role, Lizel would immediately say “Then I’ll do it,” which was unthinkable. No way could they let that happen.
“If they serve something bad after all this, I’m shutting the place down…”
Tossing palm-sized, pure white eggs from a nest carved into the rock into his bag one after another, Eleven muttered darkly to himself.
Today’s job was a rank b request from a high-class egg-specialty restaurant in the central district: “Procurement of Cliff Eagle Eggs.” It was a place Eleven frequented. The request itself didn’t come with a free meal, so it hadn’t thrilled him, but Lizel had been in the mood to make good use of a rope, so they’d accepted. Lizel himself was now a bit sulky about not being allowed to be the one dangling.
“Eleven, did you find any?”
“Four so far.”
“I’d like a few more. Also, which do you prefer, Sars or Astarnia?”
“Huh?”
Pointing out the position of the next nest, Lizel watched Gill start moving along the cliff edge. Lizel walked beside him.
Eleven hauled on the rope hand over hand, climbing a few meters up with light movements, and collected another Cliff Eagle egg.
“What’re you even talking about all of a su… there we go.”
“I thought it was about time we visited another country.”
“Big Brother, two meters to your right. Little too far—stop. Just go where you wanna go, Leader.”
“It’s a trip, we might as well all enjoy it together. I’m undecided myself, so I wanted some reference.”
Letting go of the rope he’d pulled in, Eleven spoke casually as he dropped.
Again the rope snapped taut with a violent jerk, and he eased the shock with the grip of his hands, then rummaged through the third nest. Meanwhile, several Cliff Eagles were diving at him, beaks sharp enough to gouge the cliff itself as they attacked—but every one of their charges was intercepted by Lizel’s shots from above.
Any Cliff Eagle that was shot within reach, Eleven collected along with the eggs. Their feathers were high-grade material, worth enough that most adventurers wouldn’t let a single corpse go unharvested.