There were six days left until Luffe Aros.
The Temple was dedicated to worship of the goddesses, and even Venetim could recite their creation story.
The myth began with the phrase: “First, there was a beginning.”
It continued thus: “A world without a beginning could not have begun, and thus cannot be spoken of. Everything exists within necessity, and this world was born from the miracle of a beginning.”
In essence, the very fact that people passed down myths paradoxically guaranteed the world’s beginning. From Venetim’s perspective, however, this seemed like nothing more than a meaningless play on words.
And yet most people believed this assertion and could think of no other way to define the world’s beginning. In any case, the world had its beginning, and at some point, for some reason, the goddesses were created to ensure the prosperity of mankind.
Temples existed to offer prayers to those goddesses, and the scale and number of temples were proportionate to the population of each city. The First Capital had as many as eight publicly recognized temples—and there were even more if you counted the ones located inside public buildings and meeting places.
But if you wanted to go to the smallest temple in the whole First Capital, you would undoubtedly find yourself at the Chikarta Temple in the city’s western district. This location seemed to have only the barest essentials needed for a place of worship. It had a long history but boasted none of the decorations that lent such places their sacred air.
Only one clergyman worked at this tiny temple: High Priest Nicold Ibuton. At just under forty, he was unusually young for a high priest. The other twenty-seven had an average age of over fifty years. That was the normal age at which one advanced to such a position, after all. In other words, at a relatively young age, Ibuton had already managed to garner enough achievements and support within the Temple to qualify for such a high appointment.
But in that case…
Venetim Leopool looked up at the tiny temple, lost in thought.
…why is his temple so plain?
It was more than just “plain.” It was less a temple and more a glorified shack. The place was old and showing signs of wear and tear all over. There was no evidence to suggest that anyone had ever attempted to repair any part of it. Even the orphanage next door was in better condition—so much so that Venetim had initially believed it was the main building.
…I suppose I ought to keep that thought to myself.
For the sake of his mission, Venetim needed to stay in High Priest Ibuton’s good graces at all costs. He needed to be careful, too, of course, but he was a lot more worried about one of the men he’d brought along as bodyguards…
“Damn. This place is a dump. Is the priest here too broke to fix it up? It looks like our barracks.”
Xylo seemed to say exactly what he was thinking without any filters. It was quite unsettling how little he cared about the effect his words had on other people. But Venetim was in no position to tell him to stay behind.
“I need to keep an eye on you to make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” he’d claimed earlier that day. This had come as a surprise to Venetim, who felt exactly the same way about Xylo.
“Xylo, please don’t say that in front of the high priest. I’ve heard he is very hard to please.”
“What are you so afraid of? I’m not stupid. I’ll try not to piss him off.”
“See?! It’s the fact that you have to ‘try’ that worries me. Every time you say something like that, you mess up.”
“Okay, okay. I won’t piss him off. Happy?”
The fact that he’d repeated the word “okay” was quite worrying, but Venetim swallowed his complaints. Maybe it would have been better to stick with just one bodyguard—the one who was sure to keep his mouth shut while Venetim handled the negotiations. After all, he was the most reliable hero in their unit and, according to Xylo, the best infantryman there ever was.
“I’m counting on you, Tatsuya. This is an extremely important mission, so— Huh…?”
Venetim’s voice cracked. When he looked back, the large man he’d expected to be standing behind him was doing something very bizarre. At first glance, it looked like he was spinning around at an incredible speed, swinging human-shaped weights on both arms. In reality, the “weights” were two small children, one dangling from each of his arms.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!” cackled one of the little ones.
“He’s so faaast! He’s like a hundred times better than Father Nicold!”
“What the heck?! Isn’t he getting dizzy?”
A group of children had gathered around Tatsuya as he spun, cheering him on. They were even taking turns. Venetim suspected they were orphans from next door. To them, Tatsuya must have seemed like a piece of playground equipment.
Was I really so nervous that I didn’t even hear them?
Venetim massaged his throbbing temples.
Sometimes, when Tatsuya went somewhere with a lot of children, he’d wind up playing with them—or rather, being used as their toy.
“The hell are you little brats doing?!” Xylo shouted, prying the kids off the other man. “Tatsuya, you have to start telling them no! We don’t have time for this!”
Xylo’s expression should have terrified the children, but not a single one seemed afraid. Instead, they began to laugh and run circles around him.
“Ha-ha-ha! Wow! It’s really him! It’s really Xylo!”
“It’s the Thunder Falcon! Ka-kaw!”
“I told you it was them! The penal heroes!”
The noisy children made Xylo’s head spin. He crouched, one hand to his head, and ended up at eye level with them.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked. “You kids know who we are?”
“Yep! You’re famous! I heard you blew up Zeyllent Castle along with the Demon Blight!”
“I heard he fought Abaddon one-on-one and broke every bone in its body.”
“Then swallowed it headfirst!”
Even Venetim thought that was an awful lie. But one of the stories he’d just heard rang a bell: the one about how Xylo had fought Abaddon barehanded and had broken every bone in its body. After all, he’d written it himself in one of the articles he’d penned for the Livio just three days ago—one of his many side hustles. Of course, he wasn’t about to incriminate himself and admit that.
“…I’m suddenly feeling really tired,” said Xylo, still crouching on the ground. “Venetim, do something.”
“Huh? Right… Uh, children, that’s enough now,” he muttered hesitantly. “This man has work to do. He’s my bodyguard.”
“Whaaat? Boooring!”
“Already?”
“I’m really sorry.” Venetim turned back to his other bodyguard. “Tatsuya, come on. We have to go.”
Tatsuya came to an abrupt stop mid-spin. He was a nearly perfect bodyguard, yet there were times when he would act in unexpected ways—just enough to cause concern. Even if he was dealing with a child, Tatsuya would follow orders almost unconditionally, as if he lacked any ability to refuse.
Just then, Venetim heard someone say, “Hey.” He looked down and found one of the children gazing up at him. “Are you here to see Father Nicold?”
“Yes, I have a favor to ask of him.”
“Don’t bother. People come to see him sometimes, and it always ends with him yelling at them until they leave.”
“What…?”
“And you look super shady, so I just know he’s gonna yell at you. What do you want to ask him?”
“Well, uh… The truth is…” Venetim hesitated, unsure if he should say anything. But after a few moments, he decided it didn’t really matter and continued. “We need High Priest Ibuton to become the next archpriest.”
Adhiff Twevel had insisted that Nicold Ibuton was the only high priest they could be absolutely certain wasn’t involved with the coexisters. By placing him at the helm and forging an alliance between the Temple and the military, they could significantly strengthen their position ahead of the spring offensive. This would have a profound impact on how much they could expect from the Holy Knights, who had to bow to the Temple’s wishes, thanks to their relationship with the goddesses. They tended to be bound by ideological constraints, such as the belief that a Holy Knight’s duty was primarily defensive. If they succeeded, those barriers could be overcome.
According to Adhiff, Ibuton was the best candidate to carry out this plan. He was impartial, had sound judgment, and wasn’t affiliated with any factions. But the man had a major flaw, too.
“Unfortunately,” Adhiff had told them, “he is extremely eccentric.”
Venetim felt certain he would not be a fan of this high priest. And, as if to confirm this inevitability, the child before him grinned.
“Someone like you came the other day. He wanted Father Nicold to endorse him or something.”
“…And what happened to him?”
“Father Nicold kicked his butt so bad, he ran away crying.”
Venetim swallowed. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well, but he had to try anyway.
“He sounds like a real pain in the ass,” said Xylo. He’d recovered his composure somewhat, and was now standing, stretching his neck from side to side. “Not like we got much of a choice, though.”
“Hey, uh… Xylo? Please don’t resort to violence, even if he hits you, okay?”
“Why the hell would I do that?! I’m not going to hurt the guy we’re trying to get elected. What kind of person do you think I am?”
Violence made human. Venetim almost said the words out loud, but in the end, he just patted Tatsuya on the shoulder.
“Come on, Tatsuya. I need you to protect me in case this guy tries to beat me up, okay? Uh… Tatsuya? Are you listening?”
“Mnn.”
“Feeling a bit dizzy?”
“Mnn.”
“…Then let’s take in a few deep breaths before we go inside.”
To be honest, Venetim needed a moment to calm down as well.