CHAPTER ONE Upon hearing that it would be a cast in metal, Col had initially pictured a stone oven that towered over him, in which great amounts of lumber and coal were burned while large, muscular men operated the bellows. But that was mainly for manufacturing metal or glass; lead, on the other hand, was not nearly as troublesome. Improvised hearths in temporary workshops were not like the bread ovens he had been imagining. It was more like a sarcophagus with a lid, similar to ones used to roast pigs. Myuri was curious and intrigued by everything, so it was not surprising when she went over to get a closer look at the crucible over the furnace and the bellows made from a cow bladder that were connected to the furnace’s vent. The smiths explained how everything worked. It was only now that she undid their cord. Even so, she had given him strict orders to not leave her sight for even a moment as they walked around the temporary workshop. Yet when she watched how the lead melted within the crucible, or when she whipped around in delight whenever the bellows sent embers into the air, Col began to have doubts that she wanted him nearby just to keep an eye on him. Regardless, Jean, the former artisan who had been pursued by the Church, and the other workers under his command were working smoothly. It was not long before they began experimental casts for the letter stamps that would be used in the printing. Normally, after pouring molten lead into molds carved by metalsmiths, the next step would be to carefully refine the product. They had something different in mind for the first stamp they made, which was for the very first letter of the scripture. Once Jean inspected the quality of the cast, he proceeded to dip it right into some waiting ink. All eyes in the workshop were fixed on the stamp as it was pressed onto the paper. The result was a rather ugly-looking letter. There was nothing about it that betrayed signs of witchcraft, but Col could clearly sense it was the product of a new age. “Hey, Brother. Isn’t my writing nicer than that?” Only the fearless Myuri shared her thoughts out loud when she quietly whispered into his ear. Once the print preparations began in earnest, Col felt compelled to check his translation of the scripture with more care than ever. If he made a mistake, it would be copied over and over again with incredible precision. And though Myuri complained about the legibility, she had been greatly inspired by the birth of a technology that had never been seen before in this world. The sights she had seen at the recent jousting tournament, coupled with the stories she heard during rowdy nights and a technology that defied God’s wrath, helped her weave a truly grand adventure. That was how brother and sister came to sit together at their desk, lost in their work. While both were very dedicated, they had been careless and not realized there was no one left to admonish them for neglecting everything else. In fact, when their prominent associates returned to Rausbourne on business after the jousting tournament, Col and Myuri had completely forgotten they had been tasked with looking after the monastery in their absence. Hyland had gone to Rausbourne to hold an official banquet, one that would announce to the world that the heirs fighting for the Winfiel throne had finally reconciled. Clark accompanied her as the future head abbot of the monastery. Young Canaan, who came from the Holy See with the plan to mass-produce the scripture, had watched Jean passionately revive once-forbidden printing technology. This inspired him to return to his home at the papal archives to inform the other archivists that the plan they thought impossible was coming to fruition. He was very likely on a ship at that very moment. Le Roi, the bookseller, was conducting business with the nobles who had attended the jousting tournament while they were still in Rausbourne, all while gathering information on the new continent. Sharon, the eagle spirit, quickly made sure things were squared away after the tournament and then made a quick stop in Rausbourne like the others. She needed to procure supplies and people for the temporary workshop that would be established on the monastery grounds. She also needed to secure materials needed for building repairs, as well as a mountain of other daily necessities for the workers who would be staying on the grounds. That then brought her to Eve, who was taking orders for precisely these things. This was how the theologian who was very little help in practical business, and the girl who was perfectly happy to swing a sword when she was not penning every story that popped into her head, had both been left to their own devices at the monastery-slash-workshop. And when Sharon returned, Col understood by the look on her face that they were more unsuited for the job than he had originally imagined. “…Before anything else, you two need a bath.” This was the first thing she said when Col came out to greet her as she returned at the head of a caravan overflowing with supplies. There was so much that she carried a mountain of it on her back like a traveling peddler. One glance at Myuri confirmed her face was smeared with ink. The rambunctious girl cocked her head questioningly, pressed her nose to his side, took a good sniff, then rudely pinched her nose shut. If he smelled, then Myuri was partially responsible, considering how she clung to him every night. “Have you had a proper meal?” Col, shaking his head, had been about to follow Myuri to the well, but Sharon’s flat tone stopped him. “I…I think I did?” After thinking on it for a few moments, he realized he had no memory of eating. Sharon sighed and jerked her chin toward the well. “I peeked into the workshop and those fools were totally absorbed in their work, too. You’re all the same. Go fetch the others. I’ll make some food.” When Sharon scolded him, Col simply bowed his head and did exactly as he was told. Many found Sharon rather brusque. But the way she cared for the children at the orphanage revealed a softer side, and she was very good at looking after others. She must have anticipated the absolute state of the monastery, for she had had the foresight to enlist the aid of some children from the orphanage in Rausbourne to help prepare the massive meal. The ease with which she organized the efforts made her seem like a nun who served as the backbone of a monastery. By the time Col and Myuri were done cleaning themselves with water from the new well dug by the workers, the central square had transformed into a food line. “Ha-ha, everyone has a beard now.” Myuri laughed at seeing so many people who could’ve been mistaken for common bandits concentrating on nothing but filling their bellies and knowing these were the same people who were devoted to printing the scripture. This was definitely their first proper meal in a long time. “You don’t really have a beard, Brother.” He was capable of growing a bit of facial hair if he neglected to shave, but Myuri had always seemed to expect him to grow a big, fluffy one. When he had shaved a little earlier, she made a big fuss about the wasted potential. “I do admit, I like the thought of stroking my beard while lost in thought,” Col said. “Then when it’s long, I’ll braid it for you,” Myuri offered with delight. Col decided that he would perhaps continue to refrain from growing out his beard. In another display of wise sensibility, Sharon had purchased a great deal of bread in Rausbourne. She sauteed mutton and garlic in a big pot hanging over the furnace they had used to melt the lead, then heaped it onto bread rolls. It was rich and filling, and after washing it down with a bit of wine, Col felt all the tension drain from his body. It was only then that he finally realized how tired he was. He also spotted Myuri lying down in a corner of the square, napping alongside the other workers. “You people really would work yourselves to death if no one’s there to pull you back, huh? Clark’s exactly the same.” Sharon reprimanded Col for his self-neglect due to work, and he could only draw up his shoulders in response. “Yes, it is rather shameful… Your return could not have been timelier, Miss Sharon,” Col said. Sharon snorted, watching the children clean up the serving line as she said, “The Twilight Cardinal, a household name, is just a handful of a child.” It took three children to carry the big pot holding all the mutton and garlic. Once Sharon saw they had a safe handle on it, she turned back to Col. “Rumors calling you a savior are starting to pop up around Rausbourne.” Col was not entirely sure if that was true, considering the mischievous grin Sharon wore on her face, but he could still picture it. “They say it was the Twilight Cardinal, acting on God’s behalf, who reconciled the bickering princes, and that the jousting tournament was just a pretense.” Sharon beamed as Col sighed. “You know it was nothing nearly as elegant as that… The whole idea was simply the result of me panicking, trying to think of a way to keep Myuri from ripping out Heir Klevend’s throat for kidnapping me.” What’s more, the kidnapping was the result of a mistake—Heir Klevend was not a bad person. The reason Col had gone to such pains was not to protect himself, but to keep his kidnapper from the maw of the wolf. But the average person had no knowledge of this. All the world knew was that the second prince, previously rumored to be fomenting rebellion to seize the throne, had finally reconciled with the first prince. No one was willing to believe such a miracle could happen so easily. Of course, Col did not publicly take credit for this, nor did Heir Klevend and his men mention anything of the sort. But when people heard that Hyland, mediator of the princes, had sat among the tournament’s guests of honor, many were convinced the Twilight Cardinal must have been acting behind the scenes. “Hyland told you not to attend the reconciliation banquet at Rausbourne, right? She’s sharp. If word got out you were in the city, the people would be mobbing you by now.” Col felt a faint pang of disappointment when he saw how brightly Sharon smiled. He had indeed left Nyohhira saying this and that about righting the Church’s wrongs, about bringing God’s teachings back to a chaotic world. Now, with his renown growing by the day, he felt more and more like the mounting pressure was threatening to overwhelm him. Canaan had also brought up the absurd suggestion of becoming a bona fide saint, but considering how his name was treated now, Col was almost certain he would never live in peace again if he actually attained sainthood. Ignoring his dejection, Sharon suddenly said, “Right. I have something for you.” She left the hall to retrieve a large leather sack from all the cargo piled out front—it was big enough for Myuri to fit in. Despite its size, Sharon carried it easily, and though he understood how when he looked inside, it also raised new questions. “Letters? Why so many?” There were too many for Hyland to have written all of them, even given what a worrywart she was. Moreover, many of them were noticeably extravagant. “If you think you’ve earned popularity beyond your station, then I hate to say that pup has you beat.” Sharon gestured with her chin toward where Myuri had curled up for an after-meal nap. Col reached for a letter from the sack. It was a grand thing of fine parchment bound by what appeared to be horsehair, and it had been sealed with red wax that bore a family crest. “They’re all marriage proposals.” “—Eh?” Abject shock and the beginnings of a laugh met in his throat and came out in a weird noise. “They all think she’s an angel with a smile like the sun. Guess that’s how she looked from far away on the jousting grounds.” Myuri had been dressed as a nun and she was the perfect picture of a saint as long as she sat quietly. But despite her appearance—or perhaps because of that—she had been overcome with great excitement for the tournament and had leaped on top of the railing with her arms in the air, causing a terrible commotion. It would seem that, too, had tugged at the heartstrings of many a knight. “…But…this many…?” “Hyland wasn’t sure if she should give them all to you or not. You can’t just throw these away, after all. She was far more worried about this than the banquet that’s supposed to show the world how well the princes are getting along. The entire country’s fate is riding on the outcome, but this was what occupied her thoughts.” Hyland was already so busy. Col could easily see such unnecessary matters confounding her. Col briefly prayed that God would give his honest patron guidance, then returned the letter to the bag. “I suppose if I’m being referred to as the cardinal of twilight, it only makes sense for her to be called a saint who smiles like the sun,” Col said in resignation while Sharon grinned. “I hope this puts the idea of marriage in her head and convinces her to act a bit more ladylike.” “Yeah, that’s probably too much to hope for,” Sharon said bluntly at the very same moment that Myuri rolled onto her back, provoking a grumble from the worker whose leg she landed on. “Then perhaps this many candidates means at least one will prove to be a good match for that wild child, and he will make her happy.” Considering how many letters there were despite how little time had passed since the tournament, he was fairly confident that many, many more would come in the future. “If that’s what you honestly think, then I’ll leave it at that.” Though Sharon and Myuri were constantly bickering and calling each other names, they shared a deep understanding of one another. Col, too, understood the significance behind Sharon’s words and smile. Despite how she dressed it as a joke, the cord wrapped around his wrist was a physical manifestation of just how worried Myuri had been when he was kidnapped. Col recoiled from the bag. A sweet odor was emanating from the mass of love letters. Perhaps there was parchment infused with perfume and aromatic herbs. Once he pulled the bag shut, Sharon asked, “By the way, you think the printing is going to go well?” “The tests were very promising. Once I finish my proofreading, I’ll give the text to the workers in the workshop. Then after all the stamps are fabricated, it will be time for a trial run.” “Huh. I see.” The displeased look on Sharon’s face caught Col’s attention. Technology that copied great amounts of text using lead stamps was convenient, yes, but it also posed a sizable danger. Col understood why the Church had banned it. He had thought Sharon was fairly neutral on the idea, but the capable former tax collector said to him, “We ran into a little problem with buying the materials.” Col looked to her inquisitively, and the look he received in return showed just how tired she was from running around on business in Rausbourne. “You got all the paper and ink you needed, considering the scripture’s page count, yeah?” They had come to a rough estimate after speaking with Jean, but it was the absolute bare minimum they might need. Those were the numbers they had given to Sharon to order. “Did it cost too much?” That was the first thing Col thought of when she mentioned that purchase had not gone smoothly. They had been confronted with a lot of monetary issues as of late. Even the scripture, which housed God’s own words, could not be replicated by prayer alone. “That’s not a problem. That wily merchant, Eve, made a load of cash at the jousting tournament, and I hear Hyland got enough donations to catch a breather.” The jousting tournament had been a lively affair, and Eve was more than capable of lining her pockets from the event. And hearing that Hyland, who was ready to bend over backward for every little thing, had received donations brought Col genuine relief. “But with all our money, we’ve got nothing to spend it on. The best season is the end of spring, early summer. The merchants’ businesses are thriving at that time of year, so they need a lot of paper for their contracts and to record their deals. The amount that we want is way too much, Eve says—we could ask every workshop in the country and they wouldn’t have enough to supply us.” If Eve said so, then it was so. She was former kingdom nobility whose social influence reached far and wide, after all. Col, too, had personally seen the low supply from all the visits to papermaking workshops during their search for Jean. And the amount of paper this new technology would require was on a scale far beyond that of hand-copied manuscripts, which had been the norm up until this point. It was impossible for papermakers to suddenly meet this new demand on such short notice. “Which means…?” Col asked. Sharon sighed. “We could extend our search to companies on the mainland, but it’s much the same over there. Hyland apparently reached out to the Debau Company, but paper is made from old rags, right? The population up in the north is sparser, and the colder climate makes it harder to collect rags, and local production has their hands full meeting local demand. But if we look to the south and make our orders there, people will start suspecting something is up, right?” That was a well-reasoned conclusion. And since what was happening here involved technology the Church had tried to seal away, they wanted to avoid as much public attention as possible. “Those Canaan people you were working with said they were going to try to get their hands on paper and ink once they got back to the Holy See. That bookseller, Le Roi, said he’d be asking the copyists he knew if they have extra at their workshops, too.” Col could tell by Sharon’s tone that she was not expecting much from either of these initiatives. “If we put in our orders now, no matter where we order, we’re probably not gonna get out of this rut until winter, when business slows down. Everyone’s running low on paper. We might have to scale back our plan.” The vernacular scripture was meant to play a big role in the conflict between the Church and the Winfiel Kingdom. The faster it spread throughout the mainland, the faster people would better understand the Church’s wrongs, strengthening calls for reform. And more importantly, the longer they dragged their feet on this, there was no telling what sort of methods the Church might resort to. Therefore, the most important thing was to get started as soon as possible. But there were also practical problems to consider in addition to those strategic concerns. Employing the workers cost a considerable amount of money. At the same time, they would face major difficulties down the road if they paused operations and then tried to start back up later. “We also need to get around to repairing the building itself. This is giving me a headache.” The first time Col and Myuri visited this place it was quite literally nothing more than a ruin. Back then, Clark had been working alone, trying to clear as many weeds as possible. While the conditions had improved quite a bit since then, they would still need to conduct major renovations before it could function as a monastery. The children Sharon brought from the orphanage had not simply come to distribute food. They were reliable and would be helping with a bit of cleanup on the inside. As they quickly put away the pots, they began to run around with hand tools. “We don’t know what’s going to happen in this conflict between the kingdom and the Church. I have to ask you to get this situation under control, Mister Twilight Cardinal.” Though Col’s reputation was growing and spreading, Col himself did not command any special power. All he could offer in response to Sharon’s request was a lopsided smile. Afterward, he went to extract Myuri from the pile of sleeping workers, returned to their room, and placed her on her bed. He was exasperated by the way she slept as she scratched at her stomach, but when he drew the blanket over her and fixed her bangs, she looked like a princess waiting for a kiss from a prince who would wake her up. While that was not the specific reason for his doing so, he still glanced at the leather sack filled with marriage requests, which he had brought in at the same time, and a wry smile crossed his lips. He was proud the world finally recognized how special Myuri was, but he was also a bit tired. He was ready for her to finally grow up, and the world seemed just as ready. But as he sat beside the dozing girl, running his fingers through her hair that always reminded him of flecks of silver in ash, he found himself dreading how he was going to tell the owner of the bathhouse in Nyohhira about this. There was also the small matter of his recent failure to send regular letters to the bathhouse, which made him feel even worse about it. As he played with Myuri’s soft bangs, pushing them back and forth, he considered his next move. What if, for example, he began by explaining how they were running into trouble purchasing enough paper and ink for the printing of the scripture? Considering how difficult it apparently was to get paper from the Debau Company, who had been working with them due to their aligned interests of being anti-Church, their best bet may be the man who was both the rambunctious girl’s father and a former traveling companion of Col’s—Lawrence. He had innumerable ties—odd ties at that—even more so than the Debau Company, and they were the ones who printed their own currency and acted as rulers of the northlands. Perhaps if he gently brought up the issue of the marriage requests while seeking out Lawrence’s advice, it might lessen the blow. As he was working out this plan in his mind, Myuri rolled over and clung to his hand. There was an innocence to the movement that made him think the matter of marriage was best left for the distant future. And perhaps in the mind of the man who remained at her home, father to an only daughter, she was much too young for that yet. “…Maybe I won’t bring up the matter of the marriage proposals.” If he did, everything else mentioned in the letter would no doubt vanish from the loving father’s mind. “Goodness, you are quite the wicked girl.” Perhaps she heard him scold her—at some point, she had let out her wolf ears. They twitched slightly, and she continued on snoring happily. “See! You’re the only person who doesn’t see my charm, Brother!” This was the first thing Myuri said after waking from her nap and discovering the large sack of love letters. Her tail whipped about proudly as she randomly grabbed a letter from the sack, undid the seal, and read the contents. “Your artless demeanor and beautiful smile have stolen my heart… That’s exactly what it says! And this one, too! Oh, and this one!” She grabbed one letter after another and tossed them all over the bed. Col sighed. Every last one mentioned how she leaped on top of the railing at the match and waved her arms around, how she smiled so freely, and how she had left such a big impression on all of them. As much as it made him uneasy, Col found himself agreeing with the letters that likened her smile to the sun. “I think you’re the only one who doesn’t understand how pretty I am.” The way she stood there, hands on her hips and with a look of dissatisfaction, was something only a dauntless girl full of self-confidence could pull off. “But you know all of these are a misinterpretation of who you are, yes?” Col asked as he massaged the bridge of his nose. He did this because he was tired from proofreading the scripture, but also because Myuri’s antics were making his head spin as per usual. “The saint’s guise you wore at the tournament was just that—a guise. Had you truly the flame of faith in your heart, I would wholeheartedly agree with all the gentlemen heaping praise upon you.” He placed his quill down and turned to Myuri, fully intent on making this a lecture. “While you can generally pass as a saint if you remain quiet, who you truly are becomes strikingly clear the moment you open your mouth. And that is because you have not a single spark of faith within you.” During the entire two-week tournament, Myuri had come to enjoy pretending to be a saint. And so she had put great effort into learning what movements she needed to make during prayer, as well as how to walk in a more ladylike manner and table manners, thanks to Hyland. It was all to play the part better. Hyland readily and enthusiastically assumed the role of teacher, delighted that Myuri was asking her for help, and Myuri was all too eager to learn. Col had never seen a better chance to bring up faith. But when he did, Myuri looked at him with the blank expression of a riverside frog and absorbed none of his teachings. After three attempts, he gave up. And naturally, Myuri was not the sort of girl to flinch at having this pointed out to her. “I’m sorry, what? I bet that if I actually spoke to these people, every single one of them would come with us on our journey.” The confidence to say such a thing either came from her youth or from being raised with a little too much love. On further thought, Col concluded that it was probably both, but he also realized he was rather guilty of the latter, which was headache-inducing. “Oh, actually, now that I think about it… Yeah, it could definitely work.” “…What could work, Myuri?” Whenever the girl wore an expression of understanding, Col knew that she was not thinking of something wholesome. “So in the tournament, right? There was a whole mock battle in groups instead of just one-on-one fights, remember?” “Ah…hmm. Yes, I think I remember…” “Wasn’t that amazing?! There were all those horses in metal plating, and then watching them go at it with those extra-large shields, lances, and flags in such perfect formation was verily a dance unto itself!” The latter half of what she said was almost certainly a quote from a bard he had heard before. The single combat was fun to watch, yes, but the group battle felt like a refined look back at the knights of old. Despite himself, seeing that had thrilled Col. But where was Myuri going with this? Myuri closed her eyes to think back on the recent tournament for a moment before they burst open like she had just gotten a taste of the sweetest candy. “That’s why I thought, you know, it’s totally doable!” she exclaimed, fist tightening around a bundle of marriage proposals. “I’ll reply to every single one of these people, and then we’re gonna have sooo many knights in our order—” “No.” Col did not have to hear the rest before turning her down. He could feel a headache coming on—did this wild girl not know her limits? But Myuri, cheeks puffed in anger, approached him in protest. “Why?! Everyone’d be more than happy to join! Isn’t it a good idea?! Wouldn’t you be proud to have such a huge order of knights? That way, we could stage battles every day and could even fight in a war! We might even be able to find the new continent ourselves!” She grabbed his lapels and began to shake him. He was astonished she was saying this with such confidence. And his head hurt because her idea was all too plausible. War maidens leading knights into battle with sword in hand were a common motif in many war epics. But all Col had to do was picture Myuri, a girl who loved swinging a sword around for fun, at the head of an army of knights—knights who had, in fact, already professed their love to the girl leading them. He could not let such a foolish and embarrassing order of knights exist. Col could not even begin to imagine what sort of position he would have in such an order. Despite how much he had worried about the significance of them sharing a knights’ order between just the two of them, the thought of an order comprised entirely of Myuri’s suitors made his stomach hurt. “Come ooon, Brother!” Despite how often Col thought Myuri had become more grown-up as of late, this silver wolf was still a pup. Col shot from his chair with such vigor that it was like all the air was rushing out of him. Then he grabbed the pup by the scruff of her skinny neck. “Enough with this foolishness! Clean up the letters on the bed!” At this stern order, Myuri twisted around to look at him, scrunched up her face, and stuck out her tongue. Col sighed deeply and turned back to his desk as Myuri began to put the letters away, grumbling all the while. If there was a problem in her upbringing, he was at least partially responsible. He sat down and began to offer a prayer of repentance before the scripture that he had left open as a reference for proofreading. Then a certain someone draped their arms over him from behind. “You’re praying again? Oh, are you writing home?” Myuri peered over his shoulder. She looked at the ink that was still drying and her wolf ears twitched. “Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t mention the marriage proposals.” She wrapped her arm around his neck, and he could feel both her giggling and her higher-than-usual body temperature from just waking up. “Hmm, so there’s no paper or ink anywhere?” Myuri had been in a bread-and-mutton–induced nap while Col had the conversation with Sharon. “It’s not as though there is an absolute lack of ink and paper. There’s simply less than expected. And that means our printing and the plans to restore this monastery will fall behind schedule. That is why I thought it might be good to contact Mister Lawre—” “Then we shouldn’t ask my unreliable father. We should go straight to the paper workshops ourselves!” He may seem unreliable from your point of view, but he is an incredibly capable man, was what Col wanted to say. Sadly, he knew she would not listen to him despite having two sets of ears, so he decided against it. “We could borrow all kinds of tales from them while we’re at it!” They had recently learned that bards who wandered from town to town often wrote down all the songs they knew in little booklets and exchanged them at local papermakers, collecting popular tunes in each town they visited. In Myuri’s eyes, it was like discovering there were little hidden treasures in every town. “Also, I heard from the knights who came from far away to attend the tournament that folktales in this kingdom are waaay different from stuff you find overseas. And some people who are part of really ancient houses in Winfiel told me that there are families out there who still use wolves in their crests today! We could kill two birds with one stone if we visit them!” Her glib chatter made her sound a lot like a street market vendor, but the only one who stood to gain anything here was Myuri. That said, if they bought their ink and paper domestically, it would negatively impact the local merchants, which would in turn trouble the regular townsfolk. In light of that, perhaps it would be better to hit the road and purchase a bit from all kinds of places. “Also, Brother,” Myuri said, her bubbly voice taking on a slightly different tone. Col glanced sidelong at her. “Weren’t you talking to that cheeky prince?” “Cheeky…? Ah, you mean Heir Klevend?” He did certainly come across that way, but in Myuri’s eyes, even the man who was second in line for the throne was nothing more than a brat who misbehaved. “Don’t you have to look into the new continent for him and his people? They’re itching for a fight, but no one actually wants a war and stuff, right?” Klevend was leading a band of second and third sons from noble families whose chances of making names for themselves had been lost to the wind the moment the world found peace. The jousting tournament had been a good place for them to alleviate some of their dissatisfaction with their lot in life. And as it turned out, some of them had performed so well, their martial exploits had drawn the attention of the right people and earned several of them respectable positions as officers. But most were still in limbo and needed something more if they were going to come to terms with their situation. Klevend had showed great interest in the new continent as a potential answer. “But whenever I asked any of the knights about the new continent, they laughed me off and treated me like a kid. Didn’t Miss Ilenia and old man Nordstone also leave the court because everyone there wouldn’t pay them no never mind? Now they’re looking outside the kingdom for someone who’s willing to fund the search, right?” Legend had it there was an undiscovered continent at the far side of the western sea. That people knew of its existence despite no one ever seeing it sounded like the setting of a fairy tale, but even Col had his own reasons for pursuing the legend now. First was that personally, Col believed it could serve as the key to resolving the conflict between the Winfiel Kingdom and the Church, which had settled into a stalemate after several long years. Neither side could back down without losing face at the moment, but the rich potential of a new frontier could benefit both sides, which Col was hopeful would convince everyone to put aside their differences. Another motivation was the girl beside him, whose eyes shone at the prospect of adventure. She had the blood of wolves flowing through her and she was not human, meaning there was no place on the map where she could truly rest easy. But unclaimed land could become the cradle of a new country, one meant for nonhumans like her. They had met a sheep avatar named Ilenia who had told them of this potential that was also her dream. And there was yet another reason Col was deeply curious about the new continent that was for Col, and Col alone. The impetus was what he had seen during all the commotion that surrounded Nordstone, who had been rumored to be trading with a ghost ship. Of all the ridiculous tales that circulated the world since the days of yore, the one Col had stumbled upon then could be considered one of the most absurd and unthinkable. The alchemist who had vanished right from under Nordstone’s nose had apparently set sail for the new continent. Personally, Col was convinced that she had, in fact, left to verify the shape of the world. He wanted to ascertain the truth of that metal globe he had seen in Nordstone’s hut, with those lines running along its surface as though the moon itself had been dragged across the earth. “Brother?” Myuri’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. What the world truly looked like was a more dangerous question than the banned technology Jean had kept hidden. He was afraid of looking this question in the eye—it had everything to do with the correctness of the scripture, after all—but he was even more afraid of pretending to know nothing. And it was a secret he had to keep very, very close to his chest. He could not even talk to Myuri about it. “I’m sorry…,” he said, forcing a smile on his face. “I almost passed out due to your rambunctious behavior.” Myuri let her eyes shoot open, puffed out her cheeks, then smacked Col with her tail. “But… You know, that’s not a terrible idea…,” Col said, trailing off. It was not long ago that he could not even imagine moving their activities to the mainland. That was because while the Kingdom of Winfiel was in conflict with the Church, there had been turbulent rumors surrounding the succession to the throne. But now, with no more concerns surrounding the succession, everyone could finally turn their full attention to the long-standing conflict. Col believed that this meant it was time for him to broaden his own activities as well. It was time to make his way to the mainland where the Church’s influence ran deep and continue advancing his cause. Just thinking about it made him nervous, but Col knew he was no longer alone, no matter what sort of adventure awaited him. “I know I can begin a new journey with you.” Myuri’s pout quickly morphed into an indomitable smile. “And if we are to tour the mainland in search of ink and paper, we could also pass out what copies of the scripture we do manage to print. In terms of learning about the new continent…well, we could ask renowned scholars in each region we visit, so I suppose that would kill two birds with one stone.” “Exactly! And then we can recruit knights and kings from all over to join our fight against the Church!” Even if Col decided to ignore that last part, he could not deny that Myuri’s idea was surprisingly sound. And what truly opened his eyes was the new sensation that they were no longer simply reacting to the Church’s aggressions—they were the aggressors now. In a word, he was excited. “A new adventure, Brother!” The word adventure normally tired him out whenever he heard it, but this time it just felt right. They had gone through an enormous deal of pain and hardship, but they had gotten this far despite it all. “Oh, but then we probably should’ve gone with Canaan.” Canaan was from the Holy See, which lay to the south. It was very likely he was familiar with the lay of the land in that region, so he would have been a powerful ally in a journey to the mainland. “Mister Le Roi may be able to contact him, so shall we send a letter?” “Mm-hmm… On the other hand, if you say you’d rather go on a journey with just the two of us, I’m not going to complain.” “………” Col looked at her flatly, and she beamed back at him. Was God watching this foolish exchange? Myuri’s ears suddenly pricked up and she moved to peek out the nearby window. “Myuri! Hide your ears and tail!” Col quickly threw a nearby coat over her head, but Myuri paid no mind. She pointed at something in the distance. “Brother, look at that.” “What is it?” He joined her in peering out the window, and he spotted several horses rushing this way. He squinted and spotted a familiar silhouette atop one of the horses. “Oh, I know what this is! Speak of the devil, or something or other?” Ever since Myuri had started writing down her fantastical tales of knights and adventure, her vocabulary had grown. Col considered this a happy thing, but he knew that the man arriving on horseback had not come bearing good news. Col patted Myuri’s shoulder and removed the apron he wore when he wrote. “Something must have happened for Mister Le Roi to come in such a panic.” Myuri’s eyes were glittering, sensing impending trouble. When she stood back on her heels, she quickly began to get ready. “An adventure?!” Once she had finished tying her sash around her waist, she reached for her beloved sword. Col snatched it away from her, and an argument ensued. The number of horses led Col to believe that Le Roi had brought other people with him, but it turned out that Le Roi had been handling all three horses himself. Le Roi opted to ignore Col’s bewilderment when he came out to greet him; he simply handed over the exhausted horse he had just ridden in on to Sharon, who had come to see what all the commotion was about, then he hopped on the back of one of his other horses. He then turned to Col and said, “I’ll tell you more on the way.” One horse had been meant as Le Roi’s extra mount, and the other was for Col and Myuri. Col was so taken aback by the sudden development that he found himself turning to look at Myuri, who always took situations like this in stride. Without a moment’s hesitation, the wolf girl forcefully grabbed Col’s arm and turned to Le Roi. “Food and blankets?” she asked. “No need,” he replied. “This will not be a long journey.” Myuri nodded, turned to Sharon, who was caring for the horse that had doubtlessly carried Le Roi all the way from Rausbourne, and said, “Can you keep an eye on things here, Chicken?” “Sure. I’ll make sure your bed is clean of fleas by the time you get back.” Myuri growled at her, then realized her sword was not at her waist. For a moment, she hesitated over whether to go back to the room or not. The recent kidnapping had convinced her there was no guarantee bad people would not appear at the most inopportune moments. The pouch stuffed with wheat hanging from her scrawny neck, meant as a way for her to turn into a wolf, was a last resort. But before Myuri could rush back to her and Col’s room, Sharon took the broad-bladed knife meant for housework at her hip and tossed it to Myuri, sheath and all. “Don’t break it,” she said. Myuri stared wide-eyed at it for a moment, then giggled. “Thanks! I’ll give it back soon.” After everything was said and done, they were quite close. Col climbed onto the horse’s back before pulling up Myuri and placing her in front of him. Then they followed Le Roi as they left the monastery. Myuri turned back several times to wave at Sharon and the children who had come with her. “May I ask what’s happening?” Col asked. They were not going fast enough to require whipping the horse, but this was not a leisurely excursion, either. Moreover, they were not headed toward Rausbourne as expected, but inland, toward the northwest. Le Roi had come to them alone, pale in the face, which meant it was very likely this was not going to be pleasant business, and Col’s mind kept going to the absolute worst-case scenarios he could think of—like what if the newly reconciled princes were at odds yet again? It was then that Le Roi said something strange. “There was a visitor at the Rausbourne cathedral.” Though it was supremely unlikely anyone would be eavesdropping on them in these wide-open fields, Le Roi still spoke in a hushed voice. “They occasionally come to the cathedrals of larger cities, like Rausbourne. You know the sort—those who claim to be reincarnations of an emperor of the old empire, or those who have supposedly been charged with a great task by God Himself.” The rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hooves only emphasized Col and Myuri’s silence. That was because they personally knew several people who were liable to say things considered strange by society’s standards. “What did this person say?” Col asked. He was tense, wondering if someone came claiming to be a wolf avatar. “That they were dispatched from the Curia, and that they would like an audience with the king.” Col was somewhat relieved to hear that it was not a nonhuman, but this news was just as ominous. Myuri stirred in front of him where she sat between his hands that gripped the reins. “Were they looking for Canaan?” she asked. Canaan was someone who worked in the very heart of the Curia, and so for him to be present in the kingdom was essentially an act of betrayal. But the strangest thing about all this was that if anyone were pursuing him, it would almost certainly be an inquisitor, and they would undoubtedly use craftier methods if they were trying to smoke him out. It was hard to imagine they would appear so boldly at a nearby cathedral. Col thought for a moment that perhaps a friend of Canaan’s had come bearing urgent news, but that, too, did not feel right. Canaan was a sharp and careful person—no doubt he had secure lines of communication. “They did not seem to be an inquisitor, nor did they seem to be a friend. They may have nothing to do with Canaan at all. But our strange visitor showed us a beautiful incense burner of exquisite make and detail.” “An incense burner?” Myuri parroted curiously, and Col swallowed. “It is an old trick for those who have been given secret tasks and are not permitted to carry anything that might prove their identity.” Myuri’s interest was immediately piqued; Col could almost see her ears and tail pop out. “If you successfully hide your identity from your enemy, then it will also be difficult to prove who you are to the intended recipients of your message. One way to earn their trust is by keeping a fine article on you that is much too nice for your shabby traveling clothes. I have seen people like that plenty of times in Nyohhira, when they come to visit noble guests enjoying the baths.” Myuri, with all her love for adventure, flared her nose and stood up straight. “That is precisely it,” Le Roi added. “Bishop Yagine went straightaway to speak with Heir Hyland. In the meanwhile, they apparently looked over the incense burner at the cathedral, and came to the conclusion that it had been made by a renowned artisan who frequented the Holy See. Miss Eve was brought in to appraise it as well, and she came to the same conclusion.” It was hard to believe, but there was a perfectly good chance that this person had indeed come from the Holy See on at someone’s behest. “The blondie talked to them?” “To some extent.” Col wondered why Le Roi was being so evasive. Perhaps they could not disregard the possibility this person simply happened upon a very expensive incense burner on the street and decided they had been given a mission by God. “Well, either way, it’s hard to imagine an individual more suspicious than this, so we are keeping them in the dungeon for the time being. They apparently spoke of an outrageous tale on the other side of the bars.” Perhaps it was a revelation from God? Or was it something more akin to a witch’s curse? Col could clearly tell that Myuri was simply buzzing with excitement. And Le Roi then said, “They wish to invite the Twilight Cardinal to the ecumenical council. That is all they said—no matter what anyone asks, they refuse to elaborate.” “………” The horse narrowly avoided stepping on a stone in the road, yet the movement suddenly threw Col off balance and he almost fell. No—he realized that his consciousness had briefly winked out, and that he had scarcely been breathing based on how Myuri was currently holding the reins instead of him. “Ecumenical…council?” Col finally managed to squeeze the words out in response, and even the typically easygoing Le Roi gave a grave nod. If someone were tasked with bewildering Hyland from behind bars in the least words possible, what would one say? In that sense, this traveler had devised words more precious than the incense burner they had hidden on their person. “Brother!” Myuri elbowed him in the stomach. She twisted to look at him from over her shoulder with a frown—it was likely due to not knowing what an ecumenical council was. But that was precisely why those who knew what it was would shiver so. What the individual in the dungeon had said was telling—they knew the Church and its practices far too well to be a madman or a simple jokester. “Heir Hyland believes this may be a plot orchestrated by an unknown enemy, and so she insisted on acting like nothing was amiss. Therefore…” At this point, Myuri, who was upset that she was failing to follow the conversation, had spotted a building up ahead. “…She believed it better not to summon you to Rausbourne, where people are watching, and instead have everyone gather while she was on her way home from the royal court.” The horses were headed for a countryside manor that sat right in the middle of vast fields. It was a characteristically large building, not the sort found in Rausbourne or Nyohhira, of course. The grounds came with a barn meant for holding harvested crops and livestock, as well as a residence that could house a large family. Smaller towns and villages did not have facilities equipped to host royal families and their attendants, and Col had heard royalty and nobility preferred buildings like this. Also, it was more difficult for suspicious types to get close to buildings that stood out in the middle of farm fields. Several horses stood lined up at the front of the house, along with several banners painted with the crest of the royal family—a sheep crest. An armed guard noticed their horses and asked them to identify themselves, to which Le Roi replied truthfully. Upon closer inspection, Col noticed there were three types of banners—one was the present king’s and those related to the royal family. One was Hyland’s family, and the other was likely Klevend’s emblem. Col wondered briefly why the eldest son did not have a banner, but Le Roi had informed him that once the banquet in Rausbourne was over, the prince first in line for the throne had been the first to leave the city. Those in positions of power had plenty of work to do—for example, calming those who were not pleased with how the prince had reconciled with his younger brother. “Master Le Roi has arrived.” Once the large double wooden doors swung open, they were greeted with a large entrance hall with a very high ceiling. There was no division between the kitchen and living room, which meant the cooking stove was being used in place of a fireplace, and there were several long tables one might find in a tavern. Farming tools hung on the walls, and the scent of livestock lingered in the air. It seemed the barn for sheep and horses was under the same roof beyond the partition. Inside there was a long table that Col assumed originally hosted discussions on crops, state of the fields, and planting. The ones sitting around it now were guards wearing armor that was practical for travel and the noble sons Col remembered seeing during the kidnapping. In the middle sat Klevend and Hyland. “There you are.” Klevend stood, nodded, and all those around him left the building. The ceiling beams were visible above, which meant that once the accompanying guards and other followers left, the cavernous interior felt much too large, and Col much too small. “What have you told him?” Hyland asked. “The gist,” came Le Roi’s answer, before Klevend continued. “But the gist is the whole of it. The visitor who came to the cathedral said exactly one thing and has kept their mouth clammed shut ever since. It’s a lot like that myth of the cursed bird of passage that speaks of calamity, then promptly dies.” Klevend spoke gravely, and Hyland sighed. “Either way, sit, Master Le Roi and Your Eminence. And of course, you as well, Saint Myuri.” The smile Hyland flashed Myuri was basically the only source of comfort in this situation. Though Le Roi had been invited to sit, he smoothly maneuvered his larger frame to pour drinks for Klevend and Hyland, then poured nonalcoholic juice for Col and Myuri, and then finally sat down. “Either way, we believe one domestic problem has been neatly solved for the time being. I must give you my thanks again,” Hyland began. Klevend took his stein in hand and said, “Of course, you have my little sister’s talent for throwing a party in Rausbourne, too, but the real clincher was that jousting tournament. After friend and foe alike exchanged blows with shield and spear, the royal brothers everyone thought were on terrible terms came out with their swords and started laying into each other like kids! In the end, we were both a bloody and dusty mess, but we sung praises of each other’s skill. Nothing could’ve been better to show that we were on good terms!” Just as there were those who would never sit on the throne due to the circumstances of their birth, there were those who were unhappy that their only purpose in life was to take over the throne. The man next in line for the throne, the first prince, was a handsome fellow, but he, too, had his piece to say. But the two princes were wildly different in both appearance and personality. They were like oil and water—had it been in any other situation, it would have been unthinkable for the vastly different men to share a cordial handshake over anything. Thus, there was nothing better than a fight—punching each other as hard as they could was nothing more than an extension of their childhood squabbles, and had nothing to do with their social status. The reason Myuri climbed atop the railing and showed such delight was because the two grown princes had been given a unique opportunity to take all their grievances they had kept bottled up and slam them into one another without worrying what anyone else thought as they let themselves brawl it out. There had been no room for the crafty plots for power often found in the courts. That was also the reason why Hyland hadn’t been overwhelmed by worry and nerves, though she did look quite tired. “It was nice to have our little saint here waving her arms around, cheering for us. That told everyone that this was a good fight, one everyone could laugh about,” Klevend said to Myuri. It was unlikely the rambunctious girl had the foresight to think that far ahead, but there was a very real possibility the fight could have taken a dark turn without her. Myuri was chuffed by the compliment, of course, and she held her head high. “That’s why I think it’s entirely possible that when the guys from the Church hear rumors about the match, they’ll start panicking.” It was finally becoming clear why Col and Myuri had been summoned. “I hear this visitor mentioned the ecumenical council.” Even though there was no one else around, Col still wanted to lower his voice. Hyland sighed deeply, a troubled expression crossing her face. “I’m still skeptical. It seems like a useless ploy of resistance by nobles who would find it more convenient if we had civil strife. I wonder if you’re being chased away to the mainland, since they might think the kingdom’s own conscience—you, the Twilight Cardinal—will be a nuisance if he hangs around.” Col nodded. That was one way of looking at it. “I think you should take the offer,” Klevend said. It seemed as though Hyland and Klevend had already debated this before their arrival, but Myuri still did not exactly understand what was being discussed—what the ecumenical was—and so she sulked as she sat by Col. This was what prompted Col to confirm, as he wanted to be sure as well. “Did this person explicitly mention the ecumenical council?” The two royals, who apparently differed in thought, turned to look at him. Col quietly cleared his throat. He crafted his question, both to explain what this was to Myuri, as well as to make doubly sure this was what they were talking about. Col did not want there to be any misunderstandings. “As you may already know, the ecumenical council is the most important meeting the Church can hold—and any decisions made there must be obeyed by all, even the Pope himself. If memory serves, I believe the last one was held eighty years ago, and the main topic of debate was the war with the pagans.” The Church was a hierarchical organization, with the Pope at the very top. But it also comprised renowned theologians, great abbeys whose territories were the size of small countries, and powerful archbishops who were inseparable from and often directly related to secular leaders, so by no means was it a seamless monolith. There were a great deal of those whose values differed, and whose interests were at odds with one another. The need to coordinate them all was no different from how matters were handled in the secular world. But victors of wars were not always right when it came to larger problems of faith, so they needed to follow the teachings of the scripture in order to determine what was right when it came to the Church. So the system to determine these things peaceably was none other than the ecumenical council. Considering the sheer influence it possessed, it was natural that the council was rarely ever held. A decision made at one could change the course of the entire Church, reaching every corner of the world. Even the most powerful individual in the entire organization could not overrule it. And this mysterious traveler had apparently said that the Twilight Cardinal was wanted at the ecumenical council. There were several major problems with this. “First—is the council actually being held?” Col asked. “I think it is,” Klevend said with dissatisfaction, folding his thick arms over his chest. “My brother and I have joined forces. The kingdom is on solid footing again. Which means the Church is finally at a disadvantage in this conflict. That’s what they must be thinking. They’re gonna try to get the entire Church on the same page with the ecumenical council. That must be what’s happening.” Col, too, had been planning a trip across the mainland in accordance with Myuri’s idea, so he understood Klevend’s reasoning. “I’m skeptical. If they are to hold the ecumenical council, then that would be the Church publicly acknowledging the conflict with our country is a big enough problem that it has the power to affect their future. And the council is just that—a meeting. All the clergy scattered across the world would be given a chance to make formal remarks. It would devolve into a shouting match among scholars and control will be difficult to regain once it’s lost.” Hyland spoke smoothly; Col could tell she had thought this through. After a moment of pause, she added one more thing. “I doubt the Pope wants to open the lid of such a terrifying box.” Hyland thought like a careful administrator. It was an old trick of the powerful to completely disregard problems by simply not acknowledging them. It did not seem that the opinions of those within the Church would ever align regarding the conflict with the kingdom, so the Pope and all the other members of the governing body, who were also fully aware of what was going on in the darker parts of the Church, knew that holding the council would only bring them straight to ruin. That was easy enough to understand. “If I may add—I do not understand what purpose there could be in summoning someone like me to the ecumenical council.” Though Col did have something akin to renown, he was not technically a member of the clergy. It was hard to imagine that he would ever be invited to the ecumenical council—a formal function of the millennium-old Church, whose influence would be felt for millennia to come. Not only that, but Col was, as it were, a marked enemy of the Church. “I think there’s a good possibility and a bad possibility behind this,” Klevend said. “But you want to tell us there’s only the bad reasons, huh?” He turned to Hyland, who smoothed out her disheveled blond bangs with her hand and nodded. “I think this must be a trap orchestrated by someone. Even if God willed the holding of the ecumenical council. It would be much faster to lure His Eminence out and cut him down along the way than trying to sway him with words alone. And if they cannot cut him down, they will crush him with more words than he can handle. It is not the nobility that wants to distinguish themselves.” The archbishops contending for power by denouncing the Church’s enemy, the Twilight Cardinal, would do so not because it was right or wrong, but because it was how they could make a name for themselves. And those who successfully managed to claim credit for vanquishing the Church’s enemy would make leaps and strides toward advancing their ambitions. Hyland had suffered as an illegitimate child; she knew what it meant to walk the corridors of power. But Klevend did not seem to subscribe to that way of thinking. He seemed dissatisfied with that assumption, considering how dismal it was. Myuri drew her lips into a thin line, too; of course, she need only bare her fangs to make sure no one tried anything untoward. It was Klevend who spoke up. “There’s a perfectly good chance that it’s a trap, of course. But if the pope and the rest really do intend this to be a trap, then there’s still meaning in accepting the invitation.” Klevend, who led a band of noble sons, was clearly used to giving these sorts of speeches; he made sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing. “There have to be people in the Church who want reform, too. Maybe those people, when they heard the Pope’s plan to hold an ecumenical council, put their brains together and decided to enlist the Twilight Cardinal’s help? Maybe the Pope and his allies are making preparations because they think they can get the jump on us, but if that info leaks, then we can prepare as well.” Not long ago, that would have been an impossibly hopeful prediction. But Canaan indeed wanted to better the Church, much like they did, and so he came to them in the kingdom, not minding that his actions would most likely be interpreted as betrayal. It did not require a leap in imagination to think there could be others who carried the same hope. Which meant that disregarding this chance would undermine any potential scenario where the Church could reform itself from within. Both royals’ theories were equally believable, and Col found it difficult to pick one over the other. “Which ultimately means we cannot make any decisions until we know for certain whether or not the ecumenical council will be held,” Le Roi said, after seeing that all opinions for the time being had been accounted for. “I have sent an emergency notice to Archivist Canaan summoning him back to the kingdom. I believe his help will give us a degree of insight as to what may be happening. We will have him see if our mystery guest in the dungeon is a real envoy, and then have him contact his colleagues at the Holy See. And since we’re talking about the ecumenical council, we know for certain this will not be held today or tomorrow. There is no need for us to make a hasty decision.” Hyland looked as though she was contending with a looming threat when she heard about the council, but Col agreed with Le Roi. “I, too, was shocked to hear about the ecumenical council, but this is something that may happen once every century. With that in mind…” Col trailed off, putting his thoughts together as he did so, looking to Hyland, Klevend, Le Roi, and then finally Myuri. “The kingdom has finally come together. Whether we go on the defensive or the offensive, we have no reason to stop what we are doing entirely and think. Though there are several issues with the printing of the vernacular scripture, we are still pushing forward with it. We have no need to fear discussing the ecumenical council. And most importantly, God is on our side.” Everyone besides Myuri nodded slowly. And then Myuri, who had been upset this entire time, unable to find her place within the conversation, made a noise—it was not growl of displeasure, but a rumble in her stomach. “You…” Col sighed, and Myuri looked away in a huff. Hyland smiled, her tension draining away as she stood from her chair. “It’s been a little while since the last time I saw you. Why don’t we have something good to eat?” Myuri beamed up at Hyland, and Col sat beside her with another sigh. As they enjoyed a lavish lunch, local rulers who heard royalty were in the area on their way home from the royal palace came to pay a visit all at once. There were some, like mayors and manor stewards, who came bearing land disputes, and several people from small, rural churches that fell outside the jurisdictions of larger cities timidly came to say hello. Every time someone arrived, Hyland got up from her meal to greet them. “What a good girl she is,” Klevend said flatly, picking out slivers of meat stuck between his teeth with a slim, pointed wooden stick as he watched her. “Don’t you have work to do, old man?” said Myuri, who was munching on a honeycomb filled to the brim with honey, brought as a gift by one of the visiting mayors. Klevend gave a wry smile. “Are you ever gonna forgive me for accidentally kidnapping your brother?” Le Roi, who had white in his hair, did not mind the address at all, but Klevend seemed to rather dislike being called “old man.” Those in power often wanted to be seen as older, so many deliberately fattened themselves up and grew out their facial hair. In contrast, Klevend seemed less like a member of royalty and more like a grown mischief-maker, just like Myuri had once said. “They see me as a lone wolf. People who need to chat about that stuff go to the others who are openhearted and good with people. Instead, it’s the folks who’ve got nowhere else to go who come to me.” Holding a position of status did not necessarily guarantee having the confidence of the people. Col felt as though Klevend’s bad reputation was very likely a result of a misunderstanding from those around him. “Well, it’s both good and bad. If I sat on the throne, then we’d have a lively country, but we probably wouldn’t survive the winter.” Myuri cackled at that. “And instead of my sister, who’s earnest but dour by nature, or my brother, who’s all business all the time, I’m way more suited to go along with your wild plans.” Just as Klevend said that with a grin, Le Roi, who had gone out for a bit after lunch, finally made his return. He had salo and alcohol with him, which were likely brought to him by a local. It did not seem like it was because he had not eaten enough for lunch, but because it was an appropriate snack for wild tales. “I had Le Roi’s help when I told my brother about the new continent. The reason we called you here wasn’t just for the ecumenical council, but because I wanted to get right to talking about that, too.” Myuri loved sweets, but she adored savory snacks just as much; she quickly reached for a piece of salo. “Old man Nordstone said he went to talk to the king, but he was apparently shut down really fast. Right, Brother?” The eccentric old noble, Nordstone, had gone to the royal court to ask for funds to raise a fleet after independently pursuing the new continent on his own. The news of their progress—or lack of it—had come from the sheep spirit Ilenia, who had gone with Nordstone. They had heard it from Eve, who had heard it from Ilenia herself. “It’d be a matter of dignity if the first in line to the throne took that conversation seriously. He had no choice but to chase him away.” Klevend took a sip of his ale and licked the pork fat off his fingers. “But make no mistake; my brother understands the significance. He knows the value of it as an outlet for dissatisfied kids like me and the boys, and its potential as a key to reconciliation with the Church.” “And that means I had an easy time collecting information in Rausbourne, too,” Le Roi said, his tongue slick with pork fat as he looked to Col. “But what I found was not very promising, and even the most eccentric of people who have heard about the rumors of the new continent typically said nothing more than seeing mention of it in old tales from the ancient empire.” “Which naturally means we should start digging up stories on the empire.” “The possibility of a continent no one’s seen existing at the edge of the sea is essentially legend. And most legends are considered pagan by the Church, so when the empire fell, the Church declared them heathen beliefs.” As a result, talk about the continent was nothing more than an unbelievable tall tale that drunkards would bring up from time to time. The ones who truly believed it were limited to a small portion of the strangest eccentrics, or alchemists who had access to ancient knowledge from the time of the empire. “As you’ve suspected, Master Col, our only choice is to look for books from the era in lands where the Church’s power does not reach. In short, that means the desert.” Myuri’s eyes gleamed and her breathing grew fast, as though she had just heard about a treasure hunt. “When Le Roi told me about it, I thought, that’s perfect! I’ve got plenty of guys who’re itching for adventure.” In an era of peace, there was no place to win glory for those who were skilled with swords and horses. This perfectly described the noble boys who had gathered under Klevend’s banner, and he could see the logic, but all Col could do was sigh when he saw Myuri nodding along enthusiastically. “And then all of a sudden, we get hit by this weird talk about the ecumenical council.” Klevend complained as though he was talking about a sudden downpour, and shook both fists at the ceiling. Le Roi continued, “Old imperial knowledge lives on in the desert. But it isn’t something they will show just anyone. Those with specialized knowledge and passion need a real reason to go there.” “Le Roi, the boys, and I were thinking about taking on that role together, but when the ecumenical council came up, that all went up in the air.” The ecumenical council was too much of an enigma to leave everything behind and venture into the desert. “There is a possibility this council is a ploy by one of the nobles who think it’s a lot more convenient that there’s domestic in-fighting, like my sister said. Which means it’d serve you guys a lot better if I stayed here in the kingdom.” With a man like Klevend on their side, one who cared not for the delicate balance of power among the nobles, one who would rather charge with sword in hand at his problems, it was a little more difficult for others to plot intricate schemes against them. Klevend’s unrefined mannerisms also came in handy from time to time. “And supposing this talk about the council is real, then I believe I would be of most use at your side, Master Col.” Le Roi was a merchant who dealt in valuable books, so he of course had a lot of very rich customers. Among them were the likes of powerful nobles, or clergy members who owned great swaths of land, and he would be able to find them staunch allies should they get caught up in the storm surrounding the ecumenical council. “Obviously, going to the desert yourself would be outrageous,” Klevend added as he looked straight at Col, though probably more meant for the girl who sat beside him, knocking her knees together in excitement over the possibility of adventure. Perhaps he was holding a surprising grudge over her calling him an old man. “Yes, I also think it is far too outlandish for me to go to the desert myself,” Col said. Myuri’s eyes went wide when she heard that, but he turned away from her and continued. “But now that the domestic dispute has been settled, I believe it might be time for us to take a new approach to dealing with this conflict between the Winfiel Kingdom and the Church, and that we should head for the mainland anyway.” Myuri, who had run out of patience, interjected. “We can just make our way to the desert while we take care of all our errands on the way, right?!” If that were to happen, then they would find even more adventures. “Listen to me, Myuri. We have no idea how far the desert is. And most importantly, there’s too much we still don’t know about the current situation. As things stand, we have to carefully consider our plan of traveling to the mainland, never mind the desert,” Col said, pressing Myuri’s face back as she grumbled at him. Le Roi, clearly enjoying the exchange, chimed in. “There’s no need to rush. Once Archivist Canaan returns, we will have a clearer picture of things.” “When’s he coming back?!” Myuri practically leaped at him as she demanded to know, and Le Roi gave a hearty laugh. He leaned toward her, as though teaching her a secret spell. “Going to the desert isn’t an ordinary thing. There would be no time to sit waiting around, considering how much preparation one must make ahead of time.” Myuri’s mouth immediately clamped shut, waiting eagerly for what he might say next. Perhaps the reason Le Roi was so good with children was because he still had a solid grasp on his own inner child. “You’ll need rations, clothes, a map, of course, and you must collect information from those who’ve already ventured into the desert. And the most important thing is finding someone who understands the language of its inhabitants.” “Oh, I see… I get it. But wouldn’t all of our problems be solved if the people working for Miss Eve helped us?” That Myuri had not a shadow of a doubt that Eve would aid them on this supposed journey was the privilege of a girl who was used to being showered with love. “The sort of person Mister Le Roi is talking about is someone who can read more specialized texts in the local languages of the desert, or those who can understand the ancient empire’s script. Isn’t that right?” Myuri frowned, not following. Col simply looked to Le Roi for confirmation. “Precisely. We are searching for fairy tales dating back to the ancient empire, after all.” Just how many people were out there who not only had the courage to travel all the way to the desert and speak the local language, but could also read the empire’s script and had the specialized knowledge to identify which books contained tall tales about the new continent? “Of course, we also have the option of dividing these roles and hiring experts for each, but…” “That would force us to travel in a large party, and that’d just invite attention,” Klevend said. Le Roi nodded. “But I suppose Archivist Canaan would have an idea of who might be able to help us.” There may very well be someone who had such niche knowledge among those who worked in the mazelike archives of the Curia. There were not many who could read to begin with, even fewer who had such specialized knowledge, and that number truly dwindled when the new continent was involved. And who among them could speak the desert languages and read the empire’s writing on top of everything else? “Well! Seek and ye shall find, Master Col!” Col knew what he was feeling was written all over his face. He looked up when Le Roi quoted the scripture and gave a strained smile. “Come on!” Myuri leaned forward over the table, her voice echoing even louder in the room. “What do we have to do to get to the desert?!” The reconciliation between the eldest prince, next in line for the throne, and the second prince, who was quite the problem child, had sent a considerable shock through high society in the Kingdom of Winfiel. When both Hyland and Klevend saw that the local visits had tapered off, they gave the order to depart so they could finally make some progress along their respective journeys. The reason the inside of the manor felt so empty was not because the countryside house was so spacious, but because they had been ready to depart at the drop of a hat. “My dear, I feel as though a hole has been bored into my heart at the thought of not seeing you for the next while,” Hyland said as she pulled Myuri into an embrace. It was apparently a turn of phrase she had learned from a court minstrel; Myuri giggled and parroted the line.
Chapter 101
66 min read