Chapter 166

01 “Pops! We’ve come to help!” On the west side of the Labyrinth City, where a place called the Citadel City had once stood two hundred years ago, a group of carpenters, including Gordon, were hard at work. It was outside the Labyrinth City’s protective wall and uncomfortably close to the Fell Forest. In the past, none would have dared to order or accept work in such a dangerous location. Construction here had only been made possible because of the supply of monster-warding potions. Gordon and the others were hard at work building a special shrine. Clearing the road to the sandpit had yielded a large quantity of wood, and they had rapidly constructed a large building that could hold about ten carriages. The question of whether it was acceptable to build a shrine with such haste would have to wait for another time. Gordon the dwarf was overseeing the work, while his son, Johan, and the glass artisan Ludan, assisted. They’d gathered workers from the City of course, but construction and repair in the Labyrinth City was largely stonework; there weren’t many woodworkers. Though the dwarves spared no expense, they still didn’t have enough hands to meet the unreasonable order of finishing this job in a week. Even if they order had come from the house of Margrave Schutzenwald. After hearing Gordon was in a tight spot, the adventurers he’d once helped came to provide assistance. Despite their work as adventurers, not all of them made particularly good money. Many had injuries and couldn’t even afford a bare bones sort of livelihood. Gordon himself had been an adventurer in his younger days but was forced to retire due to a wound. It was only thanks to his boss, who’d given the dwarf work while he was struggling to make enough to eat, that Gordon had been able to make a successful living as a carpenter. He couldn’t repay his benefactor directly, so instead he paid it forward to the next generation. It was probably why Gordon looked after wounded adventurers by helping them find carpentry work and giving them salves he bought from Sunlight’s Canopy. The old dwarf didn’t remember exactly how many adventurers he’d helped out, but dozens of people had come running to help after word spread that Gordon was in need. Each one who hastened to the man’s side was an adventurer. Gordon was grateful to have enough people to complete the work in the scheduled period of one week, but more than that, he was happy to see so many of the people he’d cared for had remained unharmed. Adventuring was a dangerous profession, after all. Just like in the old days, hearing the name “Pops” from them moved him to tears. “Oh! Pops, you’re crying. Old people shouldn’t cry so easily!” “I’m not cryin’! This is sweat. Quit sayin’ stupid things and get to work!” After barking at the adventurers poking fun at him, Gordon rubbed around his eyes with a hand towel that had been stuffed in his back pocket. “Wah, what’s up with this towel? My eyes hurt! It stings!” “Mm, Dad, that’s a dishcloth from Sunlight’s Canopy. You must’ve brought it by mistake.” “Whaaat?!” Now Gordon really was crying. Though it was from rubbing his eyes with a dishrag that smelled vaguely of onions. The gathered adventurers roared with laughter. Soldiers provided with monster-warding potions had been dispatched from the Labyrinth Suppression Forces to guard the construction site. That was why the carpenters dared to laugh so close to the Fell Forest while they worked. Perhaps the tall walls of the temple they were building allowed the workers to speak more openly; the project progressed quite well. The workers dried the transported trees and fashioned them into posts and planks by using carpenter skills. They left the compacted dirt, not bothering to put down flooring after removing tree roots and large stones. With carriages coming and going, there was no need for floorboards. “Say, Pops. What kinda building is this?” One of the adventurers eyeing the blueprints raised the question after the dwarf finally stopped crying. It was strange enough to construct something in a place as potentially dangerous as this, but the building had two entrances, and just one window on the ceiling. Moreover, the door on the Labyrinth City side was big enough to let carriages through, yet the other door facing the Fell Forest was far smaller than the door of a normal house. It provided enough space that women and children would likely be able to squeeze through, but those of larger build, like adventurers, would find themselves stuck even if they turned sideways or crouched. The structure of the skylight was also strange. It was a double-glazed window so huge it would take the outstretched arms of three adult men to encircle it. Glass had been inlaid in an iron lattice frame to keep monsters out, but the shape of the lattice formed a magic circle. The upper and lower parts of the window were asymmetrical with each other, and a pedestal had been installed in the lower portion of the window’s grating, as if something was to be placed there. The curious construction enabled something to be put between the two window layers. “This here’s a spirit shrine.” “Spirit shrine?” The adventurer, apparently a fan of gossip, latched on to Gordon’s words. “I haven’t heard the full story, either, but you know how they’ve started sellin’ potions, right?” “Yeah, that talk about the Aguinas family inventing a way to make them?” “That’s the one. I hear the vials they go in need to be special made, too. Seems you gotta have sand containin’ somethin’ with the power of the ley line, like Drops of Life.” The sale of potions had become a crucial point of interest to adventurers, as they would for any other group of people. While all those who’d rushed over to help Gordon had missed the Merchant Guild’s briefings, they’d heard the gist of things from others at bars, though not without embellishment. Such was the nature of gossip. The glass artisan Ludan told the rest of the story to the adventurers, who eagerly gathered to listen. “It’s common knowledge that there’re plenty of places to buy potion vials in the imperial capital. In the Labyrinth City, all we got are bottles of booze that people like you drink and chuck. Doesn’t matter how many potions you make if you’ve got nowhere to put ’em.” “You can’t put them in normal vials?” “If you use normal vials, the potions’ll turn into plain old medicinal water.” “What? Potions can go bad? What a pain in the ass.” “It’s different than going bad. A famous sword needs a worthy sheath, right? It’s like that.” Ludan’s sword metaphor proved difficult to grasp, but the likes of an adventurer had no interest in the details of how such things worked anyway. The vague understanding that potions would go bad if not put in a specific kind of vial was enough. “And? What do those containers have to do with this shrine?” One adventurer pressed for an answer. This time, Johan took over the conversation. “Now, calm down. The glass for potion vials needs to have Drops of Life in it. In short, it’s something alchemists have to make.” “So what you’re saying is the Aguinas family’s been making glass, too?” “No.” “What? Don’t lead us on.” An especially short-tempered adventurer heckled Johan. “Look, I’m trying to tell you! That’s why we’re building a shrine. When we do, the spirits will make the sand for us!” Johan was quick to finish his explanation to the easily angered adventurer. “Whaaat?!” “How?!” “Spirits will can do that? But we can’t even talk to them!” There was a great clamor among the group. Understandably so, as the explanation was rather outrageous. Such a reaction had likely been unavoidable. “Old books and a treasure from over two hundred years ago were discovered in the estate of Margrave Schutzenwald. We’re buildin’ this shrine based on those ancient tomes!” “Whaaat?!” “Treasure?! Aha! I get it—it’s that skylight, right? Right?! You put it in that pedestal up there!” As one might’ve expected from an adventurer, the man quickly latched on to the word treasure. “Well, they call it a treasure, but that doesn’t mean it’s something you’d want. It’s an item with a kind of curse on it.” “Huh?! A curse?!” “That’s right. As I understand it, the curse activates during the night. So, if we leave it here, the spirits will gather after dark and use Drops of Life to try and remove the curse. If someone puts sand for potion vials under the window, the Drops of Life drawn up by the spirits to remove the curse will fall onto the sand and make it usable for potion vials.” Johan explained the method of using the so-called cursed treasure with a grim expression on his face. The assembled workers listened attentively with equally serious looks. “And? What kind of curse is it?” “It’s… Such things should not be spoken of. It’s that terrifying…” Johan averted his gaze, as if in fear. “Now I have to know. Ludan, you gotta tell us!” “No way. Even mentioning it would bring the curse upon me,” Ludan hastily turned away. “Pops! Tell us! If you don’t, I won’t be able to sleep tonight!” “Enough, youngster. If you hear it, you’ll wet your bed.” “The curse is dreadful enough that Dad wet himself a bit.” “Wh…wh-wh-wh-who did?! It sure wasn’t me!” “Yeah! It wasn’t ’cause of the curse; Gordon’s just incontinent.” “You’re wrong! I may not be as sprightly as I once was, but I’m not old enough to be doin’ that yet!” His face bright red, Gordon flew into a rage, and the adventurers were quick to disperse and return to their work. What in the world could the curse have been? Did Gordon really wet himself over it, or was that just unrelated? Whatever the answers were, each adventurer who’d heard the story felt the chill hand of the grave down their spines as they thought what might become of them tomorrow. 02 Thanks to the efforts of the adventurers, a spirit shrine consisting of nothing but walls and a ceiling was erected in only a week. Afterward, they planted daigis and bromominthra sparsely around the structure, allowing the monster repelling plants to grow in thick. On the final day of the shrine construction, the Labyrinth Suppression Forces carried in the “cursed treasure” under heavy guard, while Gordon and his crew all watched. A formation of soldiers was protecting a robed man, and behind him, two soldiers carried a chest. The trunk was adorned with a great many papers and cords—seals—that gave the object a truly dark sort of aura. The robed man wore a hood low over his eyes, obscuring his face. Judging from his outfit, he was probably someone versed in black magic. Only the outside part of the shrine’s skylight had been set, and the inner window with the pedestal attached to the interior side had been lowered to rest in the middle of the shrine. The pedestal hung by a rope attached to its four corners, with the ends of the binding running through four pulleys attached to the ceiling and connected to a winder. If the adventurers turned the winder to pull in the rope, it would lift the window frame into place. The mysterious shaman and his attending soldiers approached the pedestal. When the robed man raised his hand straight overhead, the two soldiers carrying the chest containing the cursed treasure lowered it to the ground and took several steps back. Round fire baskets had been installed around the pedestal in the window frame, and the two soldiers placed firewood and dried sacred tree leaves in them. After they sprinkled faintly shimmering water along the fire baskets in a circle around the pedestal, they lit the firewood. Perhaps the shimmering liquid was holy water that had been combined with the sacred tree leaves in the burners to create some sort of protective seal. The shaman chanted a kind of spell, and one by one, the seals on the chest began to open. Gulp. The onlooking adventurers held their breath in suspense. At last the seals were undone, and the lid of the trunk opened. With a horrible buzzing sound, something sinister flooded out from the container. It was a ghastly thing that resembled a cloud of dark rust or a mass of tiny black insects. Whatever it was induced an instinctual fear in all who beheld it. Several of the adventurers had seen such a thing before in their lives of danger. “It’s a curse… It really was cursed treasure…,” someone muttered, and the shrine fell deathly silent. Fearlessly, the black mage reached into the chest full of the ghastly black stuff and took out a glass cup so large you could wrap both arms around it. Though one might’ve called it glass, it wasn’t a beautiful, transparent object. The cup was a deep green, almost black. The goblet color was like a blend of dark shades of green and brown. It appeared especially dull and cloudy with the black curse issuing forth from it. The object was wholly misshapen, like the handiwork of a child. Perhaps it had been warped from the dark power? No, maybe the source of the curse was the child who made this container in the first place. The volatile black magic writhed from within the unstable container, causing onlookers to imagine all manner of frightful things. “It’s terrible… What kind of curse could that be…?” The adventurers and Labyrinth Suppression Forces soldiers watched from a distance as the robed man placed the cursed cup on the pedestal and secured it with metal fixtures so it wouldn’t fall over. An implement of black magic with some sort of crest engraved in the center was attached to the fixtures. A sealing tool to keep the curse from breaking loose? After installing the cup, the shaman turned toward Gordon, who stood in wait, and the old dwarf nodded solemnly. Two soldiers sprinkled holy water over Gordon, who then moved past the barriers, inching closer until he stood in front of the cursed treasure. The baneful magic twisting and contorting within the cup seemed like it could reach out for the old dwarf at any moment. “Raise it.” Under Gordon’s direction, they turned the winder, lifting the window frame bearing him and the cursed treasure toward the ceiling. No matter what kind of evil thing was involved, affixing a window frame was a carpenter’s job. This task had been entrusted to Gordon, the leader of the group. “Pops…” “Pops, you can do it!” Instinctively, the many adventurers below shouted words of encouragement. After reaching the ceiling, Gordon shifted to the scaffolding prepared in advance and quickly began to fasten the frame in place. After this was done, he attached what looked to be more sealing paper. With this, the work was complete. Rays of sunlight cascaded through the double window with the latticework of a magic circle, creating the shadow of a complex shape on the floor of the shrine. The cursed treasure was now set between two window frames, and there was no doubt the two overlapping shadows had some sort of special effect, too. Gordon unfastened the ropes from the frame, tied one around his waist, and was then slowly lowered to the ground. “It’s done,” he said solemnly. The robed man nodded, then quietly left the temple with his escorts. The adventurers who’d been watching the whole scene unfold suddenly broke into cheers. “Pops! You’re really something else!” “Ahh, I knew you could do it, Pops!” “You installed that scary thing without even breaking a sweat!” None among them doubted the old dwarf’s courage. The adventurers had called the strange cup “scary,” but they honestly had no idea just how frightful the thing was. It was better that way, however. Just knowing it would certainly bring misfortune worse than becoming “that person who wet their pants.” Curiosity could, quite literally, kill the cat in this case. It was said the treasure’s curse became active at night. All who knew of the foul object would be certain to never approach the structure after sundown. Not ever. Talking it over, the adventurers involved in building the spirit shrine struck out for a bar in the Labyrinth City and drank the night away in celebration of the building’s completion. Several days after the shrine was completed, several wagons carrying sand from the pit were brought in. It was of good quality, but it had contained impurities unsuitable for making potion vials. As such, Ludan and other glass artisans, along with some magical researchers, had used a machine to sift out the impurities before it was taken to the shrine. Once all the wagons had been loaded into the shrine, everything but the carts and their cargo was removed. Even the animals that had hauled the wagons were taken home. The large door on the Labyrinth City side was locked tight so that no one would enter by mistake and suffer the curse. However, the door facing the Fell Forest was left unlocked. This was the door the spirits would use. When Ludan and the others returned to the temple the next day, the sand in the wagons was shimmering faintly, full of Drops of Life. There was no doubt the spirits had visited to try to remove the curse, just as it was written in the old books of the house of Margrave Schutzenwald. Occasionally, there would be days when the sand remained unchanged. This quickly convinced the people involved in the transport of the material that this was the work of a fickle entity. Folks began to believe the spirit was a woman. Someone went to the temple on a dare, and heard the voice of a girl chanting something inside. When he tried to get a look at her, a sudden fireball came flying at him, and the man was forced to run for his life. “I bet the spirit and the curse are fighting.” Rumors ran wild, and eventually people took to leaving offerings at the shrine. Everyone in the Labyrinth City believed the story of the terrifying cursed treasure that the adventurers had witnessed during the temple’s construction. Reinforced patrols were deployed by the Labyrinth Suppression Forces to make sure that no one approached the shrine at night anymore. Ludan and the other glass artisans processed the Drops of Life–infused sand into potion vials. The sudden rise in demand for the little things created a tremendous amount of work for the glassmakers. Such demand created a great many jobs alongside the emergency call for medicinal herbs. “I’m far too busy. It’s been real rough going.” Ludan whined over the new workload. Gordon and Johan grinned as they helped him. “Even so, everything’s going according to Lord Weishardt’s plan.” “My performance was faaantastic, eh?” “The props were pretty elaborate, too.” “It was worth Dad getting cursed.” “I didn’t get currrsed! …I didn’t get cursed, okay?” In truth, the “spirit shrine” was a complete fabrication. The “cursed treasure” was nothing more than a toy made by a certain drunkard sage who found it too much of a bother to throw away alcohol bottles and irresponsibly melted them instead. This explained the unusual shape of the cup. An entrance to the underground Aqueduct sat in the Fell Forest, just a short walk from the shrine. Gordon and the two other dwarves weren’t given the details other than that they were building a “spirit shrine.” The window frames did in fact resemble a magic circle of monster warding, but iron was a metal that easily lost its shape when worked with, so the magical array was highly unlikely to have any effect. Since examining it in detail would reveal the spirit shrine itself to be a fabrication, the dwarves were told everything other than the identity of the spirit when their help was requested. “But y’know, when this work started…?” “That’s right. We found out.” “Just one pesky little mistake was all it took.” The three realized they were quite thirsty now, and only the tea at a stylish place like Sunlight’s Canopy would drive away the fatigue of making potion vials. They pondered what jokes they would tell today. Even if they weren’t good jokes, that girl would beam as bright as the sun. Just visiting that warm place lifted their spirits a great deal. Doubtless all three of them were thinking about heading there now. “I’m gonna take a little break.” “Working too hard just makes it difficult to work well, after all.” “I’m gonna stink up my usual seat so Lord Weishardt doesn’t take it.” The three dwarves took a break from making vials and cheerfully made for Sunlight’s Canopy. 03 In the evening, Mariela, Sieg, and Freyja traveled through the underground Aqueduct toward the Fell Forest. This was it. Freyja had finally racked up too high of an alcohol tab, and now the three were forced to go on the lam. At least, that’s how it might have gone two hundred years ago. In the Labyrinth City of today, Mariela could sell as many potions as she could make, so her master could have as much alcohol as she liked. Apparently, the Black Iron Freight Corps had been steadily bringing in good-quality stuff from the imperial capital, so even if Mariela wanted to run away, her master probably wouldn’t let her. The group emerged from the underground Aqueduct, pushed through the Fell Forest, and arrived at the rear entrance to the spirit shrine. “Mm, no one’s here again today, but just in case, I’ll go check the front door. You stay here and guard her, Sieg. Mariela, get it done quickly.” Sieg and Mariela responded with an “Okay,” and began to move. Day in and day out, Mariela started work first thing in the morning. She’d make potions, replenish the goods in the shop, and keep an eye on her master. At night she processed sand for potion vials in the spirit shrine. Even with all her duties, those most exhausted were Sherry and the other three who took some of the responsibility of looking after Freyja. Amber, who was managing Sunlight’s Canopy, ended up pretty tired at the end of each day, too. So, fired up by the idea of defeating her master, Mariela went all out with her alchemy every day, ran out of magical power, and abruptly fell flat like the “sickly heroine archetype” or whatever it was that Caroline had told her about. Mariela’s master had trained her in the art of skillfully passing out, and the young alchemist turned toward a cushion she’d prepared, collapsed gracefully into its soft embrace, and slept for about two hours. The assigned soldiers knew this meant it was nap time. It was difficult for them to picture Mariela as sickly or unfortunate. “The lady alchemist was in good health again today.” Having received reports that said things like this, Weishardt was utterly ignorant of the harsh, intensive training. Had he known, he probably would have shouted and put a stop to it immediately. However, he was currently occupied by the task of refining the spirit shrine plan. Though it had originally been one of Freyja’s ideas, her original plan was crude and half-baked. Weishardt had put in a considerable amount of effort to make it a feasible idea. Mariela entered the spirit shrine through the small back door. It was mainly for her use, so it was a bit small for Sieg. Immediately past this doorway was a device that had been installed to supply magic to a magical tool for illumination. If you poured magical power into it, that energy would flow to all the lights inside the shrine and turn them on. Not long after the temple had been completed, Gordon and the other dwarves heard that the “spirit” had tripped and fallen in the dark, so they hurriedly installed this mechanism for it. You could say it was a gift of affection. Incidentally, the “cursed treasure” was all a trick; it posed no threat to anyone. Around ten wagons piled high with white sand crowded the interior of the brightened shrine. Mariela went around to each one and infused the sand with Drops of Life. It’s a pain to squeeze between the wagons. I wish I could do them all at once. Mariela wondered if, by encasing the entire interior of this shrine in a giant Transmutation Vessel, she’d be able to take up all the sand in one go. It would be as if she had grown a lot of extra limbs, or had eyes in the back of her head. Even if she couldn’t touch it with her hands, she’d be able to grab the materials that way. Afterward, she could just put in Drops of Life as usual, except she would be able to do it with all the sand at once. “Form Transmutation Vessel, Drops of Life, Anchor…” Mariela pictured Drops of Life spilling from a hole and loaded her skill with that image. Her alchemy skill caused that vision to materialize, and once she became aware of all the sand in the shrine, it was at once instantly charged with Drops of Life. “I actually did it…” So much sand in the blink of an eye. She never would have been able to do this before now. Have I gotten better at this…? Was this a result of frantically making potions day after day, racing with Freyja? Was Master not drinking to play around, but to force me to make potions as best as I could…? Mariela felt an appreciation for her teacher. Perhaps she ought to show the woman more respect and kindness from now on. Earlier that day, Freyja had shown up where Mariela was going to clean and stood in a spot where she was completely in the way, so Mariela had chased her out. “Master, shoo, shoo, shoo!” Mariela had said while batting her with the broom. Her master had giggled, though, so maybe it was all right. Mariela didn’t really understand the actions of drunks. When the young alchemist left the spirit shrine, only Sieg was waiting for her. “That was quite fast.” “Yeah. I think I’ve gotten better. I was able to do it all at once. Let’s go get Master.” Mariela and Sieg circumvented the exterior of the shrine and headed for the front gate. That’s when they saw… “Mmm, this’s some good booze they brought. Offering drink to beg for forgiveness after I scared them off with a fireball… Spreading rumors about that was the right choice! Oh, they brought snacks, too! So thoughtfulll…!” It seemed Mariela’s feelings of appreciation were sorely misplaced. “Master, what are you doing?! I can’t believe you’d steal offerings, even if it is a fake shrine!” “M-Mariela?! Aren’t you a little early?” “Thanks to you, Master. C’mon, Sieg, let’s go home. Oh, but first we should lock the door so no despicable people get in!” “Mariela, wait for meee…!” The rumor that the alcohol offered to the spirit shrine had vanished spread among adventurers for a little while. However, the bottles only vanished at first, and that very quickly came to a stop. “The spirit’s anger was appeased,” said a relieved adventurer who’d offered some drink at the foot of the temple. Even if it had been appeased, the “spirit” who sprinkled Drops of Life in the shrine probably chased the fireball generator around with a broom again the next day.