CHAPTER FOUR Myuri had found a good number of the captured boys, and Col was confident he could figure out how to feed them. And professors, once slow to act, might even come to the city if they knew they had a chance to fight the Church alongside the Twilight Cardinal. And Myuri had been excited, thinking that would mean Lutia’s fight would grow rapidly in scope instead of remaining a stalemate. That, however, was ten days ago. “How long are we gonna be doing this?!” In the run-down chapel cared for by the blind old man, Myuri’s voice echoed loudly. It was forceful enough that it almost brought down a cloud of dust on all those present, but at least Lutia remained calm. “We still haven’t gotten a response from the Debau Company. If we can’t give the kids satisfactory food and shelter after we’ve saved them, they’ll just end up back in the hands of those other boys, and that would damage our reputation. And saving only one or two at a time would only heighten the southern eagles’ vigilance. We must save them all at once, otherwise there’s no point.” “But we’ve waited sooo long already! We’ve found them, but they might’ve moved them by now! Or maybe they’ve captured new kids!” Ten days was a very long time for Myuri to wait, considering how impatient she was. What’s more, Aquent was considered a part of the south; every day, they could feel on their skin the impending summer season. Myuri was the sort of girl who jumped for joy when it snowed; the advent of another exciting season on the horizon would only make it harder for her to sit still. “Then we just need you to find them again. I know you can do it, Myuri. Isn’t that right?” Lutia was adept at calming others. It was a crucial skill for the leader of a band of impetuous boys. She spoke slowly and carefully, but sound arguments were not enough to calm the rambunctious girl’s passion. “You’re so stupid, Lutia! Your tail is full of mites!” “Y— Wh—” “Myuri!” Col shouted at her, but Myuri was already out of the old chapel and gone. Lutia was dumbfounded by Myuri’s outburst, but when she snapped to, she quickly started combing through the fur on her tail—that insult must have stung especially bad for those with fur. “I will scold her later…,” Col said. Lutia let go of her tail, flustered. “No, we’re the ones at fault,” she said. She checked her tail one more time, then hid it. “If you hadn’t shown up, I probably wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of getting so much help. That, and you have a nonhuman by your side. That must be frustrating in the fight against the Church, right?” If anyone was frustrated here, it was Myuri. And as the one who was aiming to be a member of the clergy, he had a sure response. “All we are really doing is reading the scripture—that, I am used to.” God was only words on a page—not once had he ever saved someone. Though it could easily be construed as an expression of spite or hostility, this realization had likely shaken the faith of everyone who had ever read the scripture. Lutia’s eyes went wide, and her shoulders shook with laughter. “I’m pretty sure I’m just going to end up talking about how I disagree with your god if we keep talking about this, so let’s not say anymore,” the Wise Wolf proposed, and Col nodded with a smile. “But there’s an important reason why I called you here today. Remember when I sent out a letter to one of the scholars that work with us by fast horse? We got a response.” Excitement stirred in Col’s heart, but he could surmise what the letter said by the expression on Lutia’s face. “It was too dangerous to mention you by name, but I worded it in a way that asked if they would help fight the Church’s injustices.” He unfolded the letter to reveal writing that was rushed and restless, as though they’d been trying to avoid the prying eyes of others. “While they were willing to fight the greedy people who wielded their knowledge to exploit good but poor students, they have no intention of challenging the Church.” In short, the letter was filled with longwinded excuses. “Those who’ve worked hard to master the liberal arts and then chosen to pursue the route of ecclesiastical law are likely either aiming to become high-ranking clergy, or to be a priest in a noble’s private chapel. Even if they perform at a level where they could proudly join the professors’ guild, fighting the Church would only tarnish their reputation.” Lutia leaned back in the pew, tired. Col folded the letter and gave a little sigh. “The whole reason the Church’s obvious injustices have persisted for so long is because all those little sorts of situations have grown unchecked over time.” “And you’re desensitized to that frustration?” “Unfortunately,” Col replied. His eyes fell to the letter again because he had continued his journey despite those frustrations and sank his teeth into whatever hardships they encountered, resolving them along the way. “But I have an idea,” he said. “You do?” “I can tell this scholar is quite young.” Lutia shot up straight in her surprise. “How did you know?” “Their word choice bears a resemblance to the notes I see in modern annotated versions of the scripture. I have a feeling this person might be trying to loudly discover the truths of the world so their name will be known. In that case, there isn’t much we can do if they choose to prioritize their benefices.” Col paused, looking at the writing on the paper, which he believed even Myuri would be able to understand. “And that is why I think we should speak to an older individual. The sort who has spent more time gazing up at the heavens than paying attention to the vulgar world. An older scholar who already has a gray beard and speaks with simple language, as opposed to a hot-blooded younger scholar, would be much more easily accepted into the city’s professors’ guild.” Perhaps they should start not by attempting to overturn the academic wrongs that ran rampant in Aquent all at once, but by sending in a scholar who could act as a wedge. Then slowly, they could take that small gap and widen it. “I see… I was thinking about someone who would eagerly challenge these vested interests for us, so I was looking for someone with a backbone. But I didn’t realize it might be easier to send in someone who’s meeker,” Lutia said and smiled faintly. “You’re a lot more discreet than I’d expect a brother of Myuri’s to be, but you’re right. I guess I only ever equate fights with swords.” “If anything, I wonder why my little sister turned out the way she did.” Lutia barked loudly with laughter. Glad he could help, Col reached to return the letter to Lutia, but he paused. “What is it?” Lutia looked at him curiously, paused to receive the letter. “Do you think you could send a reply to this letter?” Lutia, in her blank stare, looked surprisingly young. “One of the reasons I was sent to Aquent was so I could debate one of the world’s great scholars, so that I may test my skill.” In that regard, the high-spirited author of this letter would be a most satisfactory debate partner. And in the nonsense knight tales Myuri was writing, there were plenty of examples in which a fight turned out to be the seed of friendship. “I…don’t mind, no.” Lutia seemed to be at quite a loss, but that was only natural. Regardless, Col gave his thanks for her agreement, and put the letter back in his pocket. And then the noon church bell rang. Lutia looked to the ceiling, then to Col. “I’ve got something I need to do, so you’ll have to excuse me. I’m going to look into a different route for finding you allies.” “I will notify you the moment I get a response from the Debau Company.” Lutia nodded, told Col to apologize to Myuri on her behalf, then left the ruined chapel. Just as Col was thinking about leaving, too, Le Roi entered. “Goodness, pardon my tardiness.” Col had notified Le Roi of the day’s get-together, but he had apparently had a meeting with one of the booksellers in town, so had been unable to come. “Oh? And where is your sister?” “She was frustrated that we could not solve any of the problems immediately, so she ran out.” Le Roi placed his hands on his large belly, as though making sure it would not fall off, and laughed. “The Wise Wolf has been fighting for a long time, you know. Nothing is solved overnight.” The knight tales Myuri was obsessed with writing were all stories where the most difficult problems were solved swiftly and decisively—in an absurd manner, even—over the course of the adventure. Perhaps that was turning out to be a bad influence on her. “That said,” Le Roi continued, “the people of the city are growing rather impatient as well.” He had likely been making enthusiastic rounds about the city since the early morning. With a grunt, he sat in one of the pews. “All the companies and workshops involved in the bookmaking process are at the ends of their ropes. The city has not chosen a book to be the ecclesiastic law textbook yet, you see. They are starting to look rather unfavorably upon the northern wolves’ resistance.” Lutia and her gang were not the only ones who wanted to do something about the tyrannical behavior of the southern eagles. There were some in the city council who wanted to curb their violence for the sake of public safety as well as powerful nobles who were expecting great things in terms of academic development, and Lutia had accurately determined that those sorts of people supported her cause. But now that spring was growing late and summer was on the horizon, the fact that a textbook had yet to be chosen was certainly beginning to cause discord throughout the city. “Even the merchants and artisans fed up with the betting cannot make any money if a textbook is never chosen, you see.” If they were to fold under the pressure and existing faculty gradually resumed their lectures, another textbook would yet again be arbitrarily chosen, and then they would demand expensive gifts in exchange for degrees. If that were to happen, then Lutia and the other poor students would once again be forced back into submission. Col wanted to help Lutia, and not simply because she was a wolf like Myuri. It was because justice was clearly on Lutia’s side. After a brief silence settled over the chapel, Le Roi spoke up again. “We mustn’t lose sight of our goal, Master Col.” This was not the first time the graying bookseller had paid him a bitter reminder. He was starting to say this more often, when Myuri was not around, as though reminding him of his responsibilities as the elder of the two. The problem Lutia and her students had was indeed something that needed to be fixed, but if they got too mixed up in it, they would lose sight of their bigger objectives. They were only here to secure paper for the printing of the scripture, which would help them right the Church’s wrongs and find allies who would fight alongside them at the possible ecumenical council. It might even be faster to give up on Lutia and find someone else in a different academic city in their search for someone who knew anything about the ancient empire and the deserts where its stories lived on and might lead to the new continent. And so what excuses they had to remain in this city without immediately packing up were that they were waiting for a response from the Debau Company, and they were waiting for a response from Canaan, who would be meeting them here. “…What about the booksellers? Have they gotten any inkling that the council might be happening?” Col did not acknowledge Le Roi’s reminder directly; he had simply brought that up if only to keep the conversation going. “They are typically the first to know about things, but it seems things have not reached a point for them to learn of it yet. But all of them feel as though there is an overabundance of books written in the script of the Church in their stores. If the scripture were to be translated into the vernacular, then there would be little reason to learn the script of the Church, and that would be the greatest textbook to teach the script for those who want to learn. That news is clearly causing waves in the monopoly over the knowledge of the script.” In short, proliferating the vernacular scripture throughout this region would, in one fell swoop, bring down those who hoarded all knowledge of the script of the Church to wield the Church’s authority to their liking while also dealing a heavy blow to the Church’s authoritarian attitude. Le Roi, who was collecting information from Aquent’s booksellers every day, was a lot more sensitive to this atmosphere than Col was. And that was why he believed that they needed to spread the vernacular scripture as soon as possible, and secure paper for that very purpose. Col was but a traveler who just happened to stop in this city to begin with, and he could not stay here and help Lutia forever. If he had to set off for his next journey soon, that would mean abandoning her. Though Le Roi was furious about the kids’ plight, his sharpened merchant’s sensibilities saw just how deep, how cumbersome, this problem was. From the point of view of the one who was calculating their journey with regard to the way society flowed around the Church, these past few days clearly leaned in favor of his mercantile sense of righteousness, though he would never say such out loud. Of course, Col would not say he was wrong, but he could do nothing but sigh heavily. “I volunteered to support your journey, Master Col, and I will adhere to whatever decision you make… But time plays no favorites. And not even God can bring back lost time.” “…I know.” Even when Col was a child and had traveled with Le Roi, he vaguely recalled being given similar advice along the way. Le Roi must have been thinking the same; he suddenly gave a kind smile, then spoke brightly to change the mood. “Now, I hate to be in and out, but a caravan of traders will be arriving soon and I am planning to meet them.” Perhaps the reason he decided to go out of his way to drop by the old chapel was to warn Col not to get too involved with Lutia. “I’m going to ask about how things are inland.” Le Roi did not force Col to make a decision, but he was clearly changing tack to begin preparing for their next journey. He was the sort of traveling companion that was hard to come by—reliable, trustworthy—but he did not make the same sort of decisions Col did. Col felt his decision was a cold one, that he was being betrayed. And that meant he was still a child. “Yes, all right.” Col rose from his seat, trying hard not to let the frustration he felt over only being able to wait show on his face, and saw Le Roi off. Once he could no longer see the man squeezing through the small alleyways, a familiar girl poked her head out from the alley diagonally opposite. Considering how angrily she had fled the chapel, he wondered if she perhaps felt awkward about coming back in; there was certainly some displeasure still lingering in her expression when she spoke up. “What about lunch, Brother?” “………” Col was unable to give Myuri a response at first. He locked the empty chapel. “Have you not eaten enough already?” When she approached, even he could smell the scent of smoke on her. After leaving the chapel, she had most certainly rushed to the main street where she had bought her fill of food from the stalls in her anger. “I’m worried about you, Brother!” “I know.” Col knew Myuri’s anger toward Lutia was partially out of worry for Col. Anyone as smart as Myuri would know he was caught between Le Roi’s logical reasoning and the burning desire to help Lutia. And she knew that once he started worrying, her pathetic brother stopped eating. Col did his best not to let the effects of his conversation with Le Roi just moments ago show on his face in Myuri’s presence, but not long after they set off, he realized that he was walking hand-in-hand with Myuri. He looked back and forth between their hands and Myuri’s face; Myuri was glum, which told him that he had unconsciously taken her hand. “You’re such a spoiled child, Brother.” A tense smile leaped onto his face. To think he would finally see the day in which Myuri said that to him. “I am worried you will run off again,” he stung back, also reminding her of how she had insulted Lutia’s tail by calling it mite-ridden. Myuri immediately nudged her shoulder against him, but she did not let go. “Not only are you spoiled, but you’re so mean,” the furious Myuri spat, like a filled water skin. “When I look at Lutia, I kind of get why Mother stopped traveling around with Father.” “Huh?” As she walked beside him, she looked less despondent, and more aged. “Because if Lutia or I decided to hold nothing back, then we could put an end to the problem in this city in an instant.” If they did not mind the details, then that was the truth. “And Mother’s the same. If she’d put in everything she had in her old journey with Father, then she could’ve made that silly man king, just like old man Huskins did. But she didn’t. Right?” Lutia had pulled away her lip to show her fangs and said they had no use in this world anymore. And so the most she could do in this city was set the stray dogs that followed her on the southern eagles. Her excuse was she knew how to handle dogs, since she used to go on hunts with her lord. If she used her wolf powers to the fullest, then it was more than possible to eliminate every last one of the southern eagles and eradicate their influence entirely. If she was willing to go that far, then she could have also turned her fangs on those who were eyeing the territory of the lord who named her. There would have been no need to take the roundabout route of studying ecclesiastical law at all. But she did not take that route. Instead, she chose to issue orders from the Green Gourd. This was because she knew that, if she decided to single-mindedly pursue the bloody path as a wolf, there were only so many possible outcomes. She knew if she were to reveal her sharp fangs and claws, she would never be able to sit in front of the warm hearth with her lord and lady. She had mentioned “frustration” several times now. It was she who had hidden away her fangs, closed her mouth, and endured. “There’s such a wide world outside of the village, and Mother and Father were having fun adventuring throughout the whole world, right? So why did they decide to hide away, deep in the mountains? I’ve always been wondering that. But when I look at Lutia, I think I get it.” In a surprising twist, it had been Myuri’s mother, the wisewolf, who had encouraged her to force Col to take her along on this journey. Myuri thought of the arrangement as her being the smart little sister who needed to stay by her foolish brother’s side to make sure he did not face too much hardship out in that harsh world, and Col, too, had assumed that Holo the Wisewolf was doing the exact same. But Col had a feeling he finally understood the truth hiding in that flaxen fur. If Myuri were to stay by his side, perhaps she would learn there were only so many things that her fangs and claws could do. She would have to learn that no matter how fast she ran, there was no point if her companions could not keep up with her. She had no one to run alongside her in this world, so relying on her natural weapons would only win her solitude. “But…” Myuri squeezed his hand. “How can Lutia hold back like that?” Considering Myuri had endured ten whole days of not going to save the kids, and then eventually ran from the chapel shouting insult, her question was genuine. They had met plenty of nonhumans on their journey thus far. They were all firmly entrenched in the modern human world, but part of them always seemed to be hiding something. But Lutia had firmly submerged herself into human society, and she was fighting hard against a storm within its confines. She must have gnashed her teeth countless times at how powerless the human body could be; for Myuri, who was quick to growl and bare her fangs when she was upset, that patience was almost terrifying. “It is because Miss Lutia is kind.” “………” Col understood that in the hard struggle to obtain a degree, there were deep-rooted social injustices throughout the city. But Lutia, who knew a life where her hair would be combed for her by the fire, where people treated her with kindness, believed that solving problems by force was misguided. And that was why she was trying to pass on how her lord and lady had treated her to the people she had come to know, and why she went around helping the poor students. Lutia had often called them her pack. She was only one half of a fist taller than Myuri, but she could see much farther. Col wished Myuri would watch her and learn a thing or two. And Col himself wanted to do all he could to help her. As that thought crossed his mind, he realized Myuri was looking up at him. “I think you need to learn not just kindness from her,” she said. “But strength, too.” “Ah…” Dumbfounded, Col could say nothing in return, and he immediately regretted what he said. Now was not the time for him to wish Myuri would learn—he, too, was rather inexperienced. The difference between his way of thinking and Le Roi’s was proof of that. “…It is thanks to your point of view that I feel as though I have learned many things.” The reason Myuri’s eyes went wide was perhaps out of surprise that he had taken her comment so earnestly. The wolf pup grinned, rubbed her cheek on his arm, then squeezed her arms around him. “Okay, so on the really big street, there’s a place that serves really tasty-looking chicken.” Had they been alone, her tail would have been out and wagging eagerly. Col gave an exasperated sigh; he was relieved, though, that she did not draw out the issue of Lutia. “Do not overeat.” “Okaaay.” Col donned a weary smile—it was always her acknowledgments that were above par. But Myuri’s head suddenly snapped to Col’s chest. “Hmm… You smell like Lutia.” She was like a city gate guard who would not tolerate smuggling under any circumstances. “Oh, it’s a letter. A response came from one of the scholars from whom we are asking for assistance. I’ll be penning a response to try to convince him.” Others had told him before their departure that he should fight and test his skills. Myuri, too, recalled how he had been encouraged to do so; she sniffed the letter through his clothes, then huffed. “It doesn’t seem I’ll be able to hide anything from you, will I?” Even back in the Nyohhira bathhouse, the wisewolf was constantly hounding the former merchant for answers. “Hmph.” The little wolf gave one last proud sniff then puffed out her own chest. And then, once they returned to the Steel and Sheep after finishing lunch, Myuri came to a stop at the entrance. “What’s the matter?” Myuri stared hard into the building beyond the door, her expression twisted. She drew back her hand, which had been unusually glued to his this entire time, then folded her arms across her chest in objection as she looked to Col. “See? We didn’t have to send a letter after all.” “Hmm?” He was not sure what she was suddenly on about, but he had a feeling that Myuri had said something similar not long ago. “And…hmm. It smells like excited puppy in there.” Her nose twitched as she sniffed. Col wanted to ask her if she was talking about herself, but he swallowed it, pushed open the door, and then immediately understood what she meant. “Master Col!” The person sitting at a table in the quiet first-floor tavern stood with such energy that the chair almost fell backward. The escort, who they had gotten to know in their search for Jean, silently nodded in greeting. “Archivist Canaan…?” “How are things proceeding here? Oh, perhaps I should first—” Canaan was about to gleefully begin his rant, but his taciturn guard stopped him. “In the room.” Canaan, his face covered in the dust of the road, snapped back to reality. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, then adjusted his posture. Hyland had said that Canaan put on quite a show whenever he was in Col’s presence. And he had a feeling he understood why Myuri was always on edge when Canaan was complimenting him. “I have good news. Let us hurry to the room!” Canaan exclaimed, his eyes shining. Despite how overwhelmed he felt, Col thought he understood why Myuri called him a pup. The dirt of the road was clear on Canaan’s face, and as they made their way to the room, Col noted he was covered in mud up to his knees. They had likely made their way straight to Aquent despite a little bad weather; if anything, it was the stalwart guard who seemed to be more tired from traveling. They entered the room, and once Myuri opened the window, Canaan spoke. “The ecumenical council!” His energy reminded Col of when a horse-drawn cart almost ran into him on a street corner. The shine in Canaan’s eyes perhaps was a result of the exhaustion of travel turning into giddy excitement. Behind him, Myuri offered the guard a seat, and the guard accepted it, tired. Col likened himself to the man after Myuri had talked his ear off about her absurd stories, but Canaan’s gaze remained fixed on him. “The ecumenical council, Master Col,” Canaan spoke feverishly, making him seem all the younger. Col believed if Myuri had a twin, he would have been a lot like this. “…This does not sound like bad news,” Col said, in an attempt to calm him down first. But a broad smile crossed Canaan’s face. “Yes! It’s great news! I wanted to tell you as soon as possible!” Though they had traveled far southward from the Kingdom of Winfiel to Aquent, the distance to the land of the Holy See was much greater. It was not a distance to take lightly, so Canaan must have gotten quite a lot of information when he was over there. “The ecumenical council is really happening. It is almost certain to be held.” The ecumenical council made the biggest and most important decisions regarding the Church’s direction, said to be held only once every century. They would most likely be discussing the conflict within the Kingdom of Winfiel and how the Church was unfavorable in the public eye. But when Col thought about how he would be considered an enemy on such a stage, he knew that there was no such thing as being too careful. “I will need to confirm for myself it will not be bad news for me personally, however.” An ominous traveler came to the city of Rausbourne one day, invited the Twilight Cardinal to the ecumenical council, then refused to speak of anything else. For what reason would they invite an enemy to such an important meeting? No matter how much of a softhearted fool he was, Col did not expect those talks to be friendly. Canaan said, “The core of the Church is on the verge of collapse.” He himself was a lamb of God who sat within that core, and yet he spoke of its downfall with such delight. Col knew Canaan’s earnestness too well to think it a sinister, heretical thought. “As the scripture says, neither do men pour new wine into old wineskins. As evil crumbles away, God is giving us the perfect chance to rebuild anew!” “Ah…” Col’s gaze settled on Canaan’s calm guard. With his drink from Myuri in hand, he noticed Col looking at him, and he nodded. Col then heard something lumpy and hard move and give way—perhaps it was the sound of the wheels of fate beginning to turn. No—it was when he unconsciously gripped Canaan’s hands that he realized it was the sound of himself gulping. “Your struggle is bearing fruit, Master Col. The echoes of what you say is right has undoubtedly resounded across the mainland and struck a chord within many hearts,” Canaan said, and pulled a thin booklet from his breast pocket. It was a sheaf of paper, worn and tattered from constant reading and rereading. “This is the abridged version of your common-language translation of the scripture, one you were said to have so bravely distributed in town. I found countless copies of these on my various stops on the way back to the Holy See.” Strangely enough, information occasionally traveled faster than travelers themselves. The book was one that Col and Myuri distributed in their first fight against a local church, alongside Hyland and her help. The reason it had found its way so far south had to be because there were so many who truly believed the Church’s tyranny was wrong. Col had thought that perhaps his dream of fixing the Church was too big, that his fight could even be called reckless. But this journey has not been a waste. “Ahem!” As he and Canaan held hands, there came a loud and obvious cough. Col glanced over to see Myuri, wearing the face of a girl fed up with the boys, now of all times, leaning against the wall with a pout. “You must go to the ecumenical council, Master Col,” said the pious believer. “And you must be God’s iron hammer.” To destroy evil so that they could create something new and pure. “But we must be thorough in our preparations. If we let this chance slip away, it is unlikely we will ever get to rebuild the Church again. We cannot afford to fail.” Col turned to face Canaan, as though shaking off Myuri’s cold stare. “Yes, I know.” “And when will you be leaving this city?” There was plenty they still had to prepare for this battle. What Canaan said was essentially telling him this fact. Col, however, began with, “Actually…” And proceeded to tell him their situation. The idea was to end the codependence of affluent students and greedy professors, and then pull up the entire academic system of Aquent by its roots. To do that, they would have to push new professors who sympathized with the idea of honorable poverty into the city’s professors’ guild. Though many people empathized with Lutia’s ideals, it was not so easy to implement in reality. How many out there would boldly make an entire guild their enemy, then teach poor students for free purely out of the selflessness of their heart? Especially when they could do the exact same job with rich students in exchange for generous remuneration for their lectures, receive large gifts upon conferment of degrees, and once their students inherited family estates or positions of import, there was a chance to be hired for a position that came with a high salary and even greater renown. Once Col was finished explaining everything to Canaan—besides the fact that Lutia was a wolf—Myuri brought up the food that had been made in the tavern kitchen for Canaan and the others. As Col was about to bite into the pork, still dripping with fat, Canaan slapped his hands to his knees and stood. “It won’t be a problem,” he said. “It shouldn’t be a problem,” he repeated, and then continued. “I have heard that there are rampant problems that hamper learning somewhat in these academic cities, but to think they have been so poisoned by such lowly ideals.” The way he placed his hand to his forehead and sighed came with an elegance that only those of noble birth had. That said, Col did not know why Canaan had the confidence to declare it not a problem. As he sat and worried if the gist of the situation truly gotten through to him, the boy said to be labeled a boy genius elaborated. “In that case, my colleagues would be more than happy to help.” “What?” Col asked before he caught himself, but he immediately understood what Canaan was thinking. That was because the boy who rushed on his journey, sullying his face, all so that he could deliver the good news as soon as possible, was on a family tree possessing boughs dotted with the names of past popes. And his job in the Curia was one where most of the academic knowledge collected. “You want someone who is willing to lecture without asking for payment instead of a professor sullied by greed, yes? In that case, there are plenty of candidates in our place of work. We need no payment for our lectures, much less any sort of gift. If anything, so long as we can speak freely of theology, and have students listen with an eager ear, there will be no problems.” Canaan and the other archivists worked in the Curia’s labyrinthine archives, where they handled all the texts the Church managed. It was an inconspicuous branch within the Church, and all of them genuinely wanted to promote God’s correct teachings, perhaps because they were all so well educated. And so even within the Church, where money often spoke loudest, the lure of pay had no power over them. Of course, most of them were of noble birth, so they were not desperate to make money for their daily bread or wonder what sort of work they might have in the future. Not only that, but they were all brave; every last one of them was ready to face death when they sent Canaan to the Kingdom of Winfiel, since they believed that was a necessary step to right the Church’s wrongs. And just like Myuri said, if there was a group that would be determined to come to this city and delighted at the prospect of rebuilding the Church, there was no other group than the archivists. “I will send for them right away. By the way, do you know how the professors’ guild here is structured? I heard there is an oral examination upon joining, but do you know what sort of thing that entails? We must move with precision here.” Col gave a tense smile when Canaan said that; Canaan’s associates were the very ones who would author theology books that would be chosen as textbooks here. Even if not, the theology and ecclesiastic law professors who wandered from academic city to academic city ultimately wanted high-ranking benefices from the Church. Since people from the heart of the Church would be sent here, who would dare object to them joining the guild? “Please tell this to the noble maiden who fights on behalf of the poor students. On behalf of the Curia archival department, we will share all the academic knowledge we can.” It was hard to think of a better solution than this, to the point that Col was uncertain if this was the right choice. “And the southern eagles? Their misconduct is outrageous. I will inform their parents of their savagery. Good grief, to capture wayward boys and force them into labor is an act of the devil himself! Not to mention gambling on textbooks, the seed of education!” Col thought of the parents who would be informed of their sons’ violence from the Holy See and he winced, though he knew he had nothing to do with the matter. He almost urged him to do so peacefully. “As for possible textbooks, we have plenty of copies of various versions of the most famous books in the papal archives. Too many, in fact—we have nowhere to put them. I am certain God would be delighted if they were to be of some use to the students, so that is another problem solved.” Col recalled the conversation he had with the bookseller as he was searching for books in the streetside bookstore in Aquent. He had asked Col to tell him if he ever learned anything about textbook selection, but he wondered if the bookseller would believe him if he told him this. He would surely give Col a little tip and send him on his way, and not give him a valuable book on the desert. “However, with regards to recruiting as many allies as possible for the ecumenical council, we will need to investigate. Her name was Lutia, yes? We can ask for the names of the scholars who sympathize with her ideals, then use my connections with the churches around the continent to find them. With Master Le Roi’s help, we should be able to find powerful nobles who will show strong interest in the vernacular version of the scripture. We should be able to assemble a great host for our battle!” There were several times in the Kingdom of Winfiel where Canaan seemed helpless, but on the mainland, he was like a fish in water. This was what it meant to be a part of an organization that wielded authority and influence. “Let us go together, Master Col!” Canaan smiled brilliantly and held out his hand. These past ten or so days had only caused Col frustration, but a panacea had come to them all at once. This was most certainly a valuable asset that he had gained on his journey, and it shocked him to see just how lucky he had been on his travels. Canaan was so excited, his eyes glistened with tears; Col grasped his hand firmly in turn. And the reason he felt something familiar about his excitement was because the hand in his was clearly much too hot. “—Oops.” And so he had a feeling, and his body reacted honestly. He wrapped his arms around Canaan to hold him in place before he fully collapsed, and it was then clear that the fervor was coming from an elevated body temperature. “Pardon him.” His guard, who had been snacking with Myuri, stood up in exasperation. He was a lot like a hunter, unable to get close to the boar caught in his trap due to the way it thrashed, and was waiting for it to calm down. The guard took Canaan from Col and hoisted him over his shoulder. It was most certainly resulting from that no matter how much he had reminded him to watch his health, Canaan had rushed and pushed himself all the way to Aquent. “It’s not so bad to see him being so lively,” the taciturn guard said and flashed an awkward smile. Perhaps he was comparing that to how gloomy Canaan was back in the Holy See. He then became expressionless again and gave a silent bow. Once Myuri opened the door, the guard shuffled away, carrying Canaan as his fever led him to believe he was still continuing the conversation. Myuri exited into the hallway to see them off, but when she returned and closed the door behind her, she did so with a sigh and a shake of her head. She looked to Col. “Are we sure he’s not a girl?” Though she had stopped insisting he marry her, it seemed as though she had not given up completely. She leaned into Col’s chest—he had caught Canaan in his arms to keep him from falling, after all—and sniffed, then clung to him and buried her face into him, as though she was keen on replacing the boy’s scent with her own. Once Myuri was finished reestablishing her territory, she started to worry for Canaan and visited his room to check on him. She asked if he needed anything, and she seemed rather displeased when the guard told her he would likely get better with some rest. While she saw Canaan as a threat to her territory to the point that she doubted if he was a girl or not, he was still a friend who looked at the map with her and spoke merrily of adventures at Eve’s manor before they departed for Aquent. It seemed Myuri understood how valuable it was to find a friend who she could share her passions with. Myuri kept giving Col pointed looks, and so he went to the innkeeper to ask for honey and fruit and other things that helped fevers resulting from hard travel. Myuri, who wanted to eat greasy meat even when she was sick, complained that such bird food would never bring anyone back to good health, but when the innkeeper handed her not a bill but a letter, she fell silent. “This just came in for you.” She took it in hand and they saw that the emblem on the wax seal was that of Eve’s company, but the paper was of fine parchment, which meant it was from Hyland. Myuri was excited to open it right away, so together they returned to the room and opened it to find the paper crammed with Hyland’s writing. “Let’s see… This is about the printing of the scripture.” Despite the expensive paper and the amount of money it had doubtlessly taken to send, the first half of the letter was filled with worry—is their journey comfortable, are they healthy, do they have enough money for the road, is Myuri eating enough delicious food. In the latter half, the point of the letter was tacked on almost as an obligation. “It says the test prints are going well and we should send paper as soon as we can.” Myuri peeked over Col’s shoulder and roughly tied it all together. “See? This is why we should just kick down the southern eagles as soon as possible.” Col thought Myuri had learned from Lutia’s perseverance how a nonhuman would live in the human world, but he could still see glimpses of her tail. That said, though Myuri hated tedious procedures, she was not the only one; Le Roi, too, had candidly warned Col that they could not help this city with its problems forever. “You heard Archivist Canaan’s suggestions, yes? This could be a big step for us, and the Debau Company’s response should be coming soon. Then Lutia will make her decision shortly after, I believe.” “Rrrgh…” Myuri’s mind was full of quick solutions to their problems—taking on her wolf form to chomp on everyone in their way, to tie letters to birds’ legs or a whale’s back to send them far beyond the mountains in an instant. In truth, she was very likely constantly suppressing her desire to run free and fast and wild—her nightly writings had gained a rough penmanship as a result of her displeasure, and she had grown just as restless in her sleep. “And, more importantly, I think we should inform Lutia of Archivist Canaan’s proposal once he has recovered… But we should look into whatever we reasonably can beforehand.” First, they would investigate the structure of the professors’ guild and their movements. It might also be a good idea to see just how corrupt Aquent’s church was as well. If it turned out the church was a den of evil that sought to make itself rich, then they may be overly suspicious and think they were the inquisition when they found out that Canaan and the other archivists began teaching in the city. As ideas on how to deal with these things, such as asking Le Roi for help, came to mind, Myuri remained staring at Hyland’s letter. “Are you upset it did not come with a tasty snack?” Col asked with a sigh. Myuri’s ears piqued and her tail rustled. “No! It just smells…” “It smells?” He recalled how she had tried to overwrite Canaan’s scent on him. He wondered if she would begin to pout again if she smelled Hyland’s excitement on the letter, but that did not seem to be the case. Myuri briefly rubbed her nose, brought it up to her face again, and inhaled deeply. “It smells like the sea…and wood that’s about to rot.” “Hmm?” “And like horses, and dry wind,” she murmured as her eyes closed, savoring the scents as though tasting fine wine. “It smells like…adventure.” The letter had been penned in Rausbourne, Winfiel, then sent on a boat, from which it was then packed onto a horse’s back, and subsequently traveled all the way to Aquent. Each step of the journey imbued it with a different smell, and Myuri could tell those complicated scents apart. “I wish Canaan had sent us a letter instead.” It was as though to say that her displeasure came from not having a letter that had made the journey from the Holy See to Aquent, carrying scents she could have gotten a whiff of. “Can you not tell from his scent?” “He smells like he’s been hunting deer for three days.” Excitement and exhaustion. “This is what letters smell like when they come from far away, huh?” she said, deeply moved. But then her ears suddenly flicked separately. “Hmm? But then… Wait a second…” She tilted her head, as though trying to recall something, but struggled. “What’s the matter?” “Oh, nothing…” Col wondered if she had noticed the scent of a food she had never tried before on the letter, but Myuri quickly shook her head and assumed her usual attitude. “More importantly, we need to get going! I have to know what the desert smells like, Brother!” Though shocked by the sudden smile and declaration, Col’s calm judgment prevailed. “We are not going to the desert.” “………” Myuri froze, smile still on her face. He knew she was a dreamer, yet he collected his thoughts and nodded, knowing this was the only correct conclusion. As he kept his eyes on Hyland’s letter, he pulled out his quill, knife, and ink pot. “You were there when Archivist Canaan spoke, yes? The core of the Church is more unstable than we imagined, and I got the impression they are holding the ecumenical council as a last resort. Which means…” Col thought of what he might say to Hyland in his response as he carved off the tip of the quill with the knife. “It’s very likely we may be able to put an end to the conflict with the Church at the ecumenical council.” Since the Pope, too, had to obey the decisions made at the council, this was the perfect chance to put all the fighting to bed. That was why they had to spread the vernacular translation of the scripture far and wide, in order to put pressure on the Church, then head to the council fully prepared. If everything went well, they could end this conflict and force the Church to accept reform. They had no time to grasp at the nebulous idea that was the new continent, nor was there any need for them to go to the desert—not even Eve herself had been there in person. They had more immediate concerns. “Once we see a resolution to the problems in this city, we must secure the paper right away and return to the kingdom. There are signs that this drawn-out conflict with the Church is finally coming to an end. Many people will be expecting Church reforms. And that would mean our journey, too, would finally come to an end—” But he could say no more. “Our journey’s ending?!” The volume of her voice was surprisingly loud for how small her throat was, and Col could almost see sparks. He turned around to see Myuri staring at him with rounded eyes, shocked. “Our journey…ending…” The rambunctious girl was reacting as though the world itself was ending; Col was astonished at first, but he eventually gave her a grimace of a smile. “Not anytime soon. You’ll be all right.” He dipped his quill into the ink. “The ecumenical council is a large-scale thing, and it cannot be held today or tomorrow. And we’ll have to print many copies of the scripture, after which we’ll have to distribute to towns across the mainland. On top of that, we will need to recruit as many powerful allies as we can find to aid us at the council itself. You need not worry about our journey ending for a very long time. Our goal is in sight now, that’s all.” Despite laying it all out for Myuri, her reaction was still dulled. Perhaps this was the first time the young wolf had considered the truth not of when their journey would end, but that it would end one day, full stop. Despite how much more quick-witted she was compared with Col, she occasionally showed that she had a very simple view of the world. Everything was new to her when she first left her village of birth, and she had believed her fun adventure would last forever. Though her innocence was heartwarming in a way, Col felt a faint bitterness in his mouth, knowing he had thought similarly when he was a child, too. “Come now, we don’t have time to stand around gawking like that. First, we need to work with Lutia and the other wolves to save the children while we wait for the response from the Debau Company. We have a lot of important things left to do on this journey.” At that point, Myuri finally returned to the reality before her and away from the prospect that this journey might one day end. “But…what about the desert?” “Hmm?” “You said we’re not going to the desert.” Her resentment took the form of tears in her eyes and glinted faintly in the light. Just when Col thought her senses had come back from the distant end to their journey, now she was not happy with the direction their journey was going. “The desert was somewhere we would go if we were to earnestly pursue the new continent, but if the ecumenical council really is the—” “You said we’d go to the desert!” Myuri yelled, her voice loud enough to hurt Col’s ears, and erasing his voice in an instant. “Brother! You! Said! We would go to the desert!!” She grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him, the start of a very rare tantrum, the kind he had not seen in years. “The desert! The desert!” “Please, calm—calm down…! I cannot promise—if we’ll go, but as insurance for the ecumenical council, we’ll continue investigating the new continent… So please—stop—shaking—stop shaking me!” “Brother! The desert! You said we’d go! We are going! Okay?! Brother, please!” Myuri’s ears were visibly tense and the fur on her tail stood on end to the point that she looked as if she had been struck by lightning—and for the first time in a long time, it reminded Col of what she was like in the Nyohhira bathhouse. Once she was like this, his only choice was to let her burn herself out. And so he withstood the wolf pup shaking him and digging her nails into him and pulling him with the power of his faith alone, and he wished that she would grow up sooner than later. Just in the way Myuri was acting, as though nothing had happened after throwing such a tantrum the day before, Canaan, too, was reportedly full of boyish energy again, despite how feeble he had seemed. In the morning, his face was just as smooth as a freshly peeled egg once again. “I apologize for my disgraceful behavior yesterday,” Canaan said sheepishly, recalling the way he had been acting in the elation that came from his exhaustion, and his ears were red. That said, when compared with the way Myuri was whining, Canaan was the perfect picture of an upstanding gentleman. “Oh, no, please don’t worry about that… How are you feeling?” “Perfectly fine.” Canaan held himself proudly, as though to say he was ready to work at any time. Col glanced at his guard standing behind him, just for good measure, and the man gave him a defeated nod. He almost felt like the glum look on his face was looking for agreement, like a fellow puppy owner seeking sympathy for often facing a similar predicament. “Okay, then Canaan, you come with us to Lutia’s place, and we’ll kick the evil out of this city!” Col’s own puppy barked in excitement at the other puppy. “Yes! That is a wonderful idea. This is a place where one is meant to learn about all of God’s creations. It is unforgivable to think such evil that even He would look away from is taking place here!” This fanned the embers left over from yesterday, and Myuri’s coals burned hotter again. Despite how meek this boy looked, he had embraced a plan that others thought was impossible and left the dim archives to rush headlong into the outside world with nothing but courage in his heart. Not only that, but he never let the helplessness of his journey drag him down, and he kept walking. That was how he won his bet. Canaan’s enthusiasm came from an absolute confidence in what the future held, the kind only knights who won their battles had. “Archivist Canaan, I have something to tell you,” Col interjected before the two excited puppies. “A letter came from Heir Hyland. She told us the test printings of the scripture are going well.” Canaan was not surprised to hear the good news. He smiled broadly, as though the plan going smoothly was a predetermined outcome. “That is proof that God is on our side. Now, let us get going!” Col exchanged glances with the guard, and they both sighed, tired. That said, they had no reason to stop the elated Canaan, and the four of them made their way to the Green Gourd, where Lutia was staying. The reason Le Roi was not with them was because when they went to check on him in his room earlier, they found him conked out with a terrible hangover. After Hyland’s letter arrived the day prior, Col had penned the response right away while ignoring Myuri’s whining. He had gone to Le Roi’s room to ask him to send the reply using Eve’s commercial network, only to find the place stinking of alcohol. Myuri, with her keen nose, ran away in shock, and when Le Roi had realized he had visitors, he greeted them from his bed with a groan. He had apparently been done in at the caravan feast; he had attended the traders’ get-together, who had been traveling together for a very long time, to get information on their travels across the mainland. They traveled greater distances than any regular peddler might, which meant they were sturdier than bears, and ate and drank more than horses. And Le Roi found himself in such a state after taking part in their incessant drinking. Col left the letter with him, left the honey and fruit he had been planning to give to Canaan in his room, gave him a bucket of cold water, prayed for God to watch over him, and then closed the door to his room again. That had not been not long ago. The four of them headed out into Aquent. As always, it was a chaotic mess even first thing in the morning. There seemed to be young men rambling drunkenly, probably after drinking through the night. But in the commercial loading dock beside them, there was a white-bearded professor and his students, who had doubtlessly rented out the space, studying high-level theology questions and strict logic. Canaan had only ever known academic cities as things in books; his expression was constantly changing, from the shine in his eyes to the way his brows furrowed, and Col could not help but look on warmly. But he soon felt eyes on his cheeks, and he turned to see the rambunctious girl, sword at her hip, staring at him coolly, as though to say he was once like that. When they reached the Green Gourd, they found Lutia seeing off the boys heading to work to earn their keep, or those cheerfully rushing off, their study tools bound with twine and hanging from their shoulders. “Oh, it’s you,” she greeted them. “Who’s this?” Just as Col was about to introduce them, Canaan stepped forward and extended a hand. “My name is Canaan Jochaiem.” Lutia stared at him blankly, but then deftly grasped his hand in turn. “Lutia. Are you…a colleague of Col’s?” Anyone could tell at a glance from the way Canaan carried himself, that he was either an academic or ecclesiastic. “I work for God as a part of the Curia’s archival department.” Lutia’s eyes went even wider at the rest of Canaan’s self-introduction. She then turned to look at Col, as though warning him not to do anything malicious. “I was terribly shocked when I met Archivist Canaan for the first time as well.” “I’m sorry. I’ve found delight in seeing others’ shock ever since then.” Lutia took one look at Canaan’s innocent smile and sighed. “I still don’t understand why boys think that way.” Canaan blinked, and Myuri laughed. They were invited to the armory on the fourth floor of the Green Gourd, and Canaan’s attention went straight to all the bookshelves, just as Col’s had. “Wow… So these are the books people use as textbooks, I see.” “It can’t be much of a surprise to you, since you came from the library of legend.” “But it is! We have plenty of books on our shelves, of course, but they’re dark, and most of the tomes remain sleeping. It is hard to tell which books still live on in society and which ones are dead. So to interact with others and learn which books they read brings me the same sort of joy one feels when laying eyes on new growth peeking out from the snow, knowing there is still life in this world.” Lutia gave an awkward smile when he offered that astonishingly purple metaphor, and Myuri began to mumble it in repetition, as though trying to memorize the turns of phrase. “Well? Seeing the Twilight Cardinal standing next to someone from the Holy See makes me feel like I’m looking at a bowl of ice-cold water sitting next to boiling-hot oil.” To mix them together would be disastrous. They needed to be careful how they handled them, and they needed to ask the chef exactly why they had been put together. “Please rest easy on that regard. Those of us working in the archives are not well-liked within the Holy See. We like every word and every phrase to be precise as a part of our work, which should help you understand our positions.” While honesty was a virtue in God’s eyes, it was not necessarily so within the structure of the Church. “I see. And that’s why you’ve chosen the Twilight Cardinal to be your ally.” With a dry smile, Lutia jerked her chin up, urging Canaan to continue. A person from the Holy See had appeared with the Twilight Cardinal; they were clearly not here for fun. “Master Col has informed me of the widespread problem regarding the framework of academic instruction in this city. This outrageous practice has gone on for too long. I am certain God would be delighted to see your spirit in this fight against evil, Miss Lutia.”
Chapter 108
51 min read