His voice carried clear and well, likely from years of preaching. Pierre took two steps forward, closing the distance between himself and Lutia. “Now, Lady Lutia! Let us away to join forces with the Twilight Cardinal!” “O-oh, uh, but Mister Pierre, shouldn’t you wash the travel from your clothes before we go?” The way Lutia spoke was unusually timid. Pierre was talking as though there was a battle raging that very moment, but there was still quite some time before the start of the ecumenical council that would be the stage for their final battle with the Church. They were only at the stage of preparation where they were gathering allies who shared their ideals. However, Pierre firmly shook his head and stressed that time was of the essence. “No! We mustn’t drag our feet! As we sit here talking, the Twilight Cardinal wages war!” “Mister Pierre, the Twilight Cardinal is…” Lutia glanced at Col as she attempted to rein in the ranting man. Col began to stand, knowing his presence was probably the best way to calm Pierre’s surging zeal, but— “I have heard! He is in the evil cathedral city of Estatt! That is where the Twilight Cardinal fights even now!” “Um, what?” That confused question could have been anyone’s. “Let us venture to safeguard the Lord’s holy teachings! I will gladly be the foundation for godsent Saint Tote Col, and for the sake of God’s righteous teachings!” Pierre of Ashredge waved his arms about and stomped on the ground, making his beard dance wildly as he ranted. Everyone else present was perplexed, and it was not because of the man’s slight over-eagerness. Lutia, who had done nothing but step backward thus far, instead came forward to close the distance between them. “What do you mean by that?” she asked. While Canaan, and even Myuri, stared blankly at the two of them, there came a light smack, rather out of place. Le Roi had smacked his own forehead. “It seems we’ve been beat.” What? How? It seemed the passionate traveling preacher had his own share of questions. “Whatever do you mean? Are you not gathering allies for the Twilight Cardinal to fight against the cathedral city of Estatt?” Had Lutia any less self-control, her wolf ears might have popped out. That was the degree of shock on her face when she whipped around to look at Col. Is that what you were planning? she seemed to ask. “Lady Lutia, are the fellows behind you your allies?” Since both men had majestic facial hair and they spoke in the particular manner that was unique to those who were a little too well read, Pierre came across like a more old-fashioned Le Roi. But the moment he looked past Lutia and toward the rest of them, Col saw that beneath his joyously bouncing beard, he had the face of a surprisingly pleasant priest, the sort people respected in their local churches. “It seems we have been dawdling for far too long,” Le Roi said as he stood from his chair. “Master Col has an imposter.” As everyone turned to look at the Twilight Cardinal, he stuffed the rest of his slice of meat pie into his mouth and nervously swallowed. Once Pierre’s hot blood had cooled, Lutia and Canaan took him to the Green Gourd as an invitation to rest. The reason Canaan went along was because, once he discerned the kind of person Pierre was, he posed a difficult theological question, and Pierre took the bait like a starving catfish. Once they arrived at the Green Gourd, Lutia wondered aloud if they should be a little heavy-handed and send the most enthusiastic students they could find to press Pierre with a flood of questions. As they watched the whirlwind that was Pierre vanish at the far end of the alley, Myuri turned to Le Roi with a question of her own. “Brother has an imposter?” Though she sounded unperturbed, her eyes flashed with anger. Le Roi raised his hands to urge her to remain calm as they returned to the chapel. “When digging through the annals of cities across the land, it quickly becomes apparent that sort of thing is not all that uncommon. And in the detailed histories of larger cities, you will always find one or two records of such people being executed.” Le Roi poured himself a drink, then grabbed a pitcher of grape juice as he gestured toward Myuri’s seat. Once Col patted Myuri on the back, she reluctantly sank into her chair, visibly eager to hear the rest of the story. “This is a case of impersonation, yes?” Col asked. He had heard of incidents like this before. There were tales of a saint who could preach in two cities at once, and it was sometimes considered a miracle. Of course, common sense dictated it was simply one or more imposters. The temptation to take advantage of another’s name and reputation was too strong for some to resist. There were stories in every city of people who claimed to be an illegitimate child of the emperor, or perhaps a great noble who had gone missing in battle, or sometimes they were supposed to be the king of some faraway country no one had ever heard of before. Ultimately, when they were found out, they were strung up for the crime. Throughout history, it wasn’t unheard of for the best imposters to secure themselves positions of power, up to and including peerage. Yet Col could not completely rid himself of his shock. A pretender using his name had appeared. “That is the result of the Twilight Cardinal becoming a household name.” Le Roi took a light sip of his drink, then flashed a somewhat troubled smile. “It must have occurred to you during the events surrounding Madam Lutia’s ordeal, Master Col. If you put your mind to it, you have the power to put in motion great things.” Lutia had buried herself in unsolvable problems in an attempt to shield herself from the biting wind of loneliness. But when Col used Canaan’s contacts, and his own connection with the Debau Company, all those problems blew away like a house of straw. They were all connections he had made as the Twilight Cardinal, and if he ever desired it, he could command a great deal of power with that name. “And where there is power, there is greed,” Le Roi continued. “If I were to call myself the Twilight Cardinal, then a great many people would come grovel at my feet. There are more than you might expect who are perfectly willing to use that power for themselves.” As he said that, Myuri’s shoulders became even stiffer. “Scarcely anyone on the continent knows Master Col’s face, yet his name has spread far and wide. I was a bit apprehensive over the danger of this situation, but I had assumed it would still take a bit more time before you would have imposters.” Le Roi paused to wet his throat with his drink. “Either your name has spread much too quickly, or perhaps your activities in the Kingdom of Winfiel made an easy target for swindlers.” With a sea separating the two landmasses, it was unlikely the swindler would ever run into someone their target knew personally. “And your role is perfect for impersonation.” “My role?” Le Roi wore a smile on his face and turned to Myuri. To be more precise, his eyes went to the paper on the table in front of her. The quick-witted girl understood immediately. She waved the paper around to drive her point home. “It’d probably be difficult to go around saying you’re an emperor who’s slain a dragon, but if someone just wanted to imitate you, Brother, then all they have to do is put on a mopey face and some ugly clothes and they could get away with it!” She added, quite unnecessarily, that a poor performance might even turn out to be more convincing. The Twilight Cardinal preached virtuous poverty—anyone could easily copy him without spending any money. “It is also very convenient you are not an official member of the clergy. If you were a well-known priest, then anyone could ask at a larger church, where they might find someone who knows your name or has exchanged letters with you.” And that meant he was an easy target for the scam artists. “But acting like my brother?” Myuri asked. “What would anyone get from doing that? I’d want to pretend to be a heroic knight.” She was saying that, in her eyes, pretending to be someone so awkward and unseemly would be of little use to anyone. “The location may be the hint we need.” “He mentioned some town with a big church or something, right? Estatt?” Myuri leaned on the table and studied the unfolded map. “Cathedral towns are places where the archbishop is in charge. Estatt is here, you see,” Le Roi said, pointing to a corner in the map. “And the archbishop of Estatt is one of the prince-electors.” Myuri stared at Le Roi blankly for a few moments after his explanation, before she tilted her head. “Does that mean Brother’s fake is trying to convince that guy to be on our side?” Myuri said, then quickly mumbled, “Oh, but…” “Mister Pierre mentioned the Twilight Cardinal is apparently fighting against the city.” When Col looked at the map, a terrible foreboding sank in. “…Perhaps he is using my name to start his own fight with the Church.” A fight completely divorced from Col’s own plans and intentions. “In the best-case scenario, yes. It’s very likely this individual may claim to be doing so for the sake of those suffering under the archbishop’s misrule.” Myuri picked up her wooden spoon, eager to eat the rest of the pie; when she fit it in her mouth, the creases between her brow deepened. “Does that mean…he’s a good person?” “It depends on which perspective you use to look at this.” Le Roi spoke with an unexpectedly serious tone. “Historically, almost everyone who has impersonated a saint has been executed as a heretic. No matter who they wanted to save, or how righteous their cause, or whatever reasons they offer, it does not justify falsifying their identity. Some will even go as far as using fabrications to incite the masses. Such warped intentions leave room for the devil to sneak in.” In other words, people who were willing to do such a thing were the type to risk anything to achieve their goals. And so whether they were doing it out of the goodness of their heart or for more sinister intentions, those sorts of people had already strayed from the path of righteousness. Though Col already felt a headache coming on from knowing he had caught the attention of someone like that, Le Roi had called it the best-case scenario. “…Then what would be the worst-case scenario be?” Col asked. Le Roi nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose someone using the Twilight Cardinal name to pressure the archbishop into handing over all the wealth he’s accumulated. If he were to demand reconciliation money, then he could make quite a lot in a very short amount of time. Estatt is a very old and very large city. It’s famous for its market in particular. The cathedral there must have quite a bit of money.” Le Roi, as a veteran of the business world, spoke clearly and frankly, which left both Col and Myuri surprised. “Of course, that would be a major blow to what we are trying to accomplish. And that is not simply because this imposter is targeting the archbishop, one of the prince-electors. The Church is doubtlessly searching for opportunities to hurt your reputation, Master Col. Something like this would spark a thousand rumors across the mainland in an instant.” Myuri’s eyes shot open. “We can’t let that happen!” “Indeed, we cannot.” Myuri’s wooden spoon suddenly began to tear through the air as she shoveled what was left of the meat pie into her mouth. Once she had overfilled her slender throat with far too much food, she slapped the table. “We need to go to that cathedral city now!” Had she been any more excited, her ears and tail would have popped out. Le Roi smiled in approval, while Col gave a tired sigh. And just as Myuri began shouting and hollering, Lutia and Canaan returned from dropping off Pierre. If they allowed this imposter to use the Twilight Cardinal name however he liked, then Col would begin encountering less than savory stories about himself sooner rather than later, thus making his struggle against the Church all the more difficult. Not only that, but the imposter’s target was Estatt—a city ruled by one of the prince-electors who would be key in persuading the emperor. Of course, the archbishop would be an influential voice within the organization of the Church as well. Typically, Col would venture into such a place only after conversing with Hyland and the others to lay out a plan in detail and thoroughly prepare, but the situation did not allow them to tread carefully. Was the story Pierre had heard about the imposter true? If it was, then they needed to figure out what he was trying to accomplish immediately. Depending on what that was, they might need to stop him as soon as possible. Lutia left to search for wandering students who had spent time in Estatt, while Le Roi used his merchant connections to find anyone who might have more up-to-date information on what was happening in the city. After hearing the details from Pierre, Canaan offered to go to the Aquent church to inquire further. Col was thankful to have such reliable allies, but it troubled him that despite being the eye of the storm, the Twilight Cardinal himself had nothing to do but wait at the inn. “And that’s exactly why you have people pretending to be you, Brother.” Myuri had spent the day rushing around the Aquent markets in search of suitable travel clothes for their departure, and she returned as the sun was setting. When she found Col there alone, unsure of what to do with himself, she heaved a dissatisfied sigh. “See? You need to stand up straight and be more assertive!” Even though Myuri had been the one who ran in circles over childish assumptions, and who had been on the verge of tears when he scolded her after everything that happened with Lutia, now she was the one giving her brother a smack on the back. “If you acted more like a legendary knight all the time, then it would be a lot harder for anyone to copy you!” He was not quite sure about that, but he understood what she was trying to say. “Legendary knights aside, the kings of old always had titles, didn’t they?” When he murmured this aloud, Myuri’s ears piqued up. “We call the most well-known kings things like, Redbeard Barbado, or Joan the Bald, no?” Myuri loved heroic tales. She hummed in agreement. And the girl’s red eyes settled on him. “Brother with Droopy Shoulders?” That was indeed the perfect descriptor for what he looked like at that moment. “Of Indigestion…? No, the Worrier? The Stickler, or maybe the Blockhead… Oh, the Clueless? In that case, then what about the Irritable?” Her suggestions quickly devolved into her badmouthing or complaining about him. It was clear that nothing flattering would be forthcoming. “None are any match for the Saint of the Sun.” When he said that in a tired voice, surprise flashed in Myuri’s red eyes. Then she shrugged dramatically and donned a mischievous smile. “It’s okay, Brother. If you stood in front of your fake, I’d know which one was real right away.” Though he was typically very strict with her, she always met him head-on with frank, earnest feelings. Perhaps the reason he always found himself moved whenever she did that was because it was clear, in times like these, she had inherited the blood of Holo the Wisewolf. Still, she needed quite a lot more experience before she could truly lay claim to the name of wisewolf. “That would be something to see.” “Hmm?” Myuri loosened her sash that was embroidered with her knight crest and neatly folded it. When Col spoke, her eyes and ears turned to him. “I believe it’s going to be rather difficult to prove I am the real one.” “………” Myuri’s eyes drifted up to the ceiling on the right, then to the left, as though trying to picture the situation, then turned her attention back to him. “Why?” “If you stood next to an empty honey pot with honey on your mouth, then the culprit would be obvious.” “………” Myuri narrowed her eyes as her tail swished back and forth with visible discontent. “But if there were two of you, and nothing but an empty honey pot, then what?” It could be possible that both of them had eaten the honey, but there would be no definitive proof. “Unlike the saints of legend, I cannot perform miracles.” Authority was a real thing that existed, but it was not something anyone could physically touch. The scripture was full of stories about angels who disguised themselves as beggars and were rarely noticed. “But Canaan and Uncle Le Roi could tell everyone you’re the real thing, right?” “And what if the other has companions who can do the same? A group of scammers would be more than capable of such a thing. The regular townsfolk will not know who to trust.” “Really? That can’t…,” Myuri began, but quickly grasped the implications. “No way… B-but you’re the real one!” She took a hurried step toward him, as though reaffirming his presence, and Col reached out with both hands to hold her in place. “This just goes to show how much Heir Hyland has helped us thus far.” There were many in the Kingdom of Winfiel, and along the opposite coast across the sea, who had seen the Hyland in person. And even those who hadn’t would pay due respect if shown a document with the kingdom’s crest on it. But Col and Myuri had gone inland, far away from the coasts. It was not unusual to run into people who had never heard of the Winfiel Kingdom. If they entered Estatt without a plan, it was likely Col would end up being chased away as an imposter. “Then…what should we do?” What, indeed. That was the question Col had been pondering this entire time. The appearance of one imposter guaranteed at least a dozen others were thinking of doing the same thing. It would not be wrong to say this was the most crucial moment in their fight against the Church. They had even set aside distributing the vernacular translation of the scripture to better prepare for the upcoming ecumenical council. If imposters sullied the Twilight Cardinal’s name, then many people’s hopes and hard work would be for nothing. Col had a responsibility to act. Just as Le Roi had said, it was dangerous for one’s name to take on a life of its own. Col had to show the world that he was the Twilight Cardinal. If this other person was truly a swindler at heart, chances were good they would refuse to admit their wrongdoing even after being exposed. There was no telling how much authority the Winfiel Kingdom’s crest would hold in such a distant land, so it was doubtful Hyland’s letter would be very useful in proving Col’s identity. Besides, it would not be surprising if the scammer had his own set of fake documents. After a lot of consideration, Col reached the conclusion that he would have to take relatively drastic measures. But as he reviewed the details, all he could come up with were sighs. That was not because he was unsure of the success rate, nor was it because of the savagery of those methods. It was because he was picturing the result of his actions. When Myuri returned from the market, she had noticed how dejected he looked. That was just the surface of his current inner turmoil. Col knew plenty stories about the saints—he could already see how drastically their lives would change once he made himself known to the public. Many living saints were swarmed by the faithful wherever they went and often saddled with major responsibilities by those in power, but ultimately, they could not live up to everyone’s expectations and ended up living as hermits. But Col had left Nyohhira to right the Church’s wrongs, and he had received help from many people along the way. He could not simply pretend none of that had happened and return to a quiet life. And more importantly, Col had his very own reliable partner. “…What?” Myuri was infuriated by the presence of an imposter of her brother, and she looked at him with eyes brimming with tears. Once upon a time, all she had ever spoken about was becoming Col’s bride, and while he thought she had calmed considerably since then, she had recently run herself ragged because of Lutia’s tribulations. She had been terrified the end of her journey with Col had been near. That was who Myuri was. Col had promised her no matter what happened to the world, he would always be on her side. And of course, Myuri would always stay by his side. “Oh, Myuri. Don’t make that face.” He gently wiped the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes with his thumb. Though he looked to be an unreliable Twilight Cardinal at first glance, he was not completely powerless. “We will find a way.” “But—” Myuri opened her mouth to argue, but Col smiled. This story had begun with him setting off from Nyohhira on passion alone. He refused to be outdone by the big dreams Myuri wrote in her fantasy stories every day. “I have learned a thing or two on our journey. There is a way.” If abandoning the adventure was not an option, then losing was not an option, either. He understood all too well this was not the time to hesitate. And once he had steeled himself, he would see just how many weapons he had in his arsenal. Perhaps his spirit had touched her, because Myuri stared blankly at him for a short while, sniffled, and then her ears and tail began to flick in excitement. In the few days before their departure, Col wrote two letters. The first one was bound for the Kingdom of Winfiel, sent via Le Roi’s merchant network. For the second one, he asked Myuri to bring a bird to the window, and he wrapped it around its leg. This particular bird was here on Sharon’s orders to accompany them on their journey, and as thanks they gave it sweet nuts from the market. “I’m kind of surprised you came up with this plan, Brother.” Myuri, who wore a traveler’s cloak tied on with tough leather belt, shared her surprise after entrusting the bird with their letter. That message was not headed for Winfiel. They needed to consult with a certain group of people about the fight they were expecting in the near future. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said with a smile before beginning his own travel preparations. According to the information Lutia and Le Roi had gathered, it seemed there was indeed trouble brewing in the cathedral city of Estatt. But as to whether the Twilight Cardinal was involved, the answer changed dramatically depending on who took the question, so it was not clear. “Estatt’s a really busy city, too, right?” Myuri asked, twisting around to check on the sword resting on her hip. “That is what I hear. They host a grand market, which is well-known throughout the continent. It is the perfect breeding ground for rumors, which makes it hard to know exactly what the truth is.” It was not a case of too many cooks. It was simply that even if many people visited Estatt, the stories they would hear inevitably came with bits and pieces of conjecture, hyperbole, and jokes. The farther away from the city they were, the more impossible it would be to tell what was fact and what was fiction. But a common point in every report was that the city Estatt and a nearby lord were engaged in some sort of conflict, so there was most certainly something going on. Chaotic political situations made it easy for bad actors to do their work. “It would be best if I had no imposter to begin with, of course, but an archbishop who is also a prince-elector rules there, and Estatt is the host of a grand market. That makes it the perfect place to declare myself the Twilight Cardinal.” He tightened his sash around his waist, steeling himself. Even if this talk of an imposter turned out to be a groundless fear, they still had to act quickly to make sure no further fakes appeared. He had to show the mainland what sort of person the Twilight Cardinal was. Then he had to make sure everyone who saw the real Twilight Cardinal would be able to recognize imposters if anyone attempted to impersonate him again. He had to make sure no one else would ever try to use his name and power for their own purposes. Despite his understanding of the logic behind all this, Col was still rather tempted to hand the mantle off to someone who wanted it more than him. In his ideal world, no one would know his face, and he could lose himself in skimming books at the front of a bookseller’s shop, and the most interaction he would ever need to handle would be the bookseller clearing their throat to catch his attention. He gave a quiet sigh, but not quiet enough to slip past Myuri’s wolf ears. She took a step toward him. “It’s okay. I’ll be right by your side.” She grinned, revealing her pointed canines. “Yes. When I can no longer bear the weight of my renown, then I plan on leaving everything in the capable hands of the Saint of the Sun.” The rambunctious girl with the ears and tail of a wolf rattled the sack slung over her shoulder. “I am capable! I’m gonna get sooo many more marriage proposals!” “I do not think that is where you should be focusing your efforts.” “Hee-hee-hee.” Myuri rubbed her head on his shoulder in a very wolflike display of affection. She was overwhelming at times, but it was reassuring to have her by his side as he prepared to embark on an uncertain path. “Anyway, you don’t really need to worry too much about dealing with this fake,” she declared. “Why not?” “If it becomes a real issue, I’ll just bite him in half and bury him in the woods.” A small part of this girl was like that. “There’s no need for that,” Col said curtly. “It is my wish, as your elder brother, for you to grow up into a proper young lady.” Had he said this back in Nyohhira, Myuri would have ignored his lecture outright. But now, when she heard him say that, delight danced in her eyes, and she said with as childish a tone as she could muster, “Okaaay!” Col had to denounce the imposter and prove he was the true Twilight Cardinal. But he had already gotten a glimpse of just how much trouble the imposter would be simply by observing Pierre. When Lutia told the man whoever was in Estatt was either a fake or the figment of a baseless rumor, and that the true Twilight Cardinal was standing in front of him, Pierre just laughed as though she had told him the most hysterical joke. When no one else laughed with him, he asked in bewilderment, “Really?” While there was no way to tell what he was truly thinking, Pierre ultimately ended up hiding away in the church as if he had been shaken to his core after learning the Twilight Cardinal was someone as unanimated as Col. Canaan believed the man was mostly suffering from a guilty conscience and was convinced he could not tell the difference between real and fake, due to his lack of faith. Le Roi and Lutia had smiled wryly at the news; Myuri was angry Pierre lacked a discerning eye. But not everyone was like Pierre, who would reflect and pray when they could not tell the difference between real and fake. That thought alone told Col this situation could easily get out of hand. “Call me if you need me. I can get to Estatt easy. I could probably be of use to you,” Lutia said when she saw them off; she deliberately peeled her lips back to show off her fangs. “But I think the little knight by your side should be enough.” Lutia smiled at Myuri, who stuck her tongue out at the other wolf out of jealousy over her brother. After shaking hands with Lutia, they set off for Estatt. Despite her attitude toward Lutia, Myuri kept looking back at her and waving. It seemed she still had things to say to her. And every time, Lutia kindly waved back. “We will see her again soon,” Col assured her. Myuri nodded wordlessly. She was still not used to the partings that came with travel. Broadly speaking, the cathedral city of Estatt was directly north of the academic city of Aquent. However, there were a few mountains in the way. Though relatively low, the mountains would still force them to take a roundabout route, since there were no good roads. First, they would have to retrace the path they had taken from the Kingdom of Winfiel to Aquent. Once they reached the coast in the northwest, they would then pivot east to continue along the coast, which curved drastically inward. Estatt sat at the mouth of the river that fed into the deepest part of the bay. The city was considered a key location for inland trade due to its proximity to the river, and a critical port for sea lanes due to the calm waters of the sheltered bay. Canaan, who was well-versed in the history of the Church, told them that in times of the ancient empire, the city developed around the old church that had been built there, which had served as an important base for military expeditions heading north. Its storied history was a major reason why Estatt enjoyed its status as a cathedral city ruled by an archbishop who served as one of the prince-electors. The bay, which had probably served ships carrying knights of the ancient empire to and from the city, was calm and almost looked more like a placid lake. That impression only grew the farther east they traveled, and it was not long before their feet grew muddy while the water became more akin to a lagoon than anything else. Many waterfowl gathered in the shallows. These birds, with their long beaks and legs, left quite an impression as they elegantly scavenged for food. The road to Estatt had good visibility and there was no danger of getting lost. It was the definition of an easy walk. There was just one little problem. It was incredibly humid. On the dawn of their second day of travel, Myuri awoke with terrible bedhead, and her hair was damp and refused to cooperate. She was furious, so Col had no choice but to braid it for her. At noon on the following day, Myuri was hungry and leisurely retrieved her bread from her sack, only to throw it onto the ground moments later with a shriek. The bread she had spent hours baking with the boys at the Green Gourd was covered in a sickly blue-and-white fuzz. In the cold and dry Nyohhira, the closest thing to mold they normally saw was the likes of moss and lichen. It was perhaps the first time Myuri had seen such an outbreak. She had probably never considered how fast freshly baked bread could become moldy when it absorbed so much moisture from the air. Myuri’s panic reminded Col of his previous travels from long ago. As he reminisced, Col collected the bread Myuri had thrown away, pinched off the mold growing on the surface, toasted the rest over the fire, and ate it. It carried a bit of an earthy taste, but that hardly bothered him. Myuri must have thought that Canaan and his good upbringing would sympathize with her. But Canaan had God’s protection. He grasped the Church crest in his hand, prayed, then ate the bread, whose mold his bodyguard had removed for him, while holding his breath. Myuri seemed ready to call him a traitor. But instead, she pulled out a relatively nice-looking piece of bread, removed the mold, and toasted it over the fire. After Col whispered some magic words in her ear, she finally closed her eyes and bit into it. It seemed telling her this was a common situation in adventure tales had a real effect. “I have heard the waterline used to be much higher a long time ago. This area must have been a thriving place under the sea.” Myuri pouted, clearly not caring much for this old story. She sat a short distance away from the fire. There were few hearty trees growing along the coast; the best they had were fields of silvergrass. Burning weakly among the firewood was peat they had excavated from beneath the silvergrass. The area around Estatt had historically been rich in peat, and while it was nice not having to worry about fuel, it seemed Myuri could not stand the peculiar smell. “Alcohol that uses grains smoked in peat are a delicacy, and I hear it’s Estatt’s specialty.” Just as Col thought it was unfortunate that barely anyone in their party drank, Canaan’s taciturn bodyguard hummed quietly. “But being situated so close to the water, Estatt must suffer many floods.” As someone who had many titled lords among his extended family, that was where Canaan’s mind went first. “It must be convenient to have such easy access to shipping, but I can imagine they must have endured many a hardship in the past,” Le Roi remarked. The scenery was flat and did not seem to contain much life at a glance, but when Col glanced out toward the sea during the day, he could see ships constantly coming and going. They were all mostly small, shallow-draft ships that glided along the surface of the water, but the coastal shipping lanes explained why he occasionally saw fairly sizable ships as well. There were also not an insignificant number of travelers on the roads, which gave him an idea how lively Estatt must be. But the typically loud, rambunctious girl was decidedly in a mood. “I wish we were in the city already…” Myuri complaining on the road was a rare and precious thing. “I see even you have things you dislike.” When he recalled how she threw away her moldy bread, Col could not help but smile. Perhaps he should praise her for her self-control in not letting her tail out. “You’re so mean, Brother!” She smacked his shoulder, wrapped the blanket around herself, and flopped down on the ground. Le Roi and Canaan shared a smile before they added another brick of peat to the fire. “We should be arriving at a post town near the city tomorrow. We will collect information there while we rest our weary bones,” Le Roi said. The rounded ball of blanket that was Myuri rustled. “The town’s not going to be this humid too, is it?” She was normally proud of her smooth, silky hair. Right now, it mostly looked damp. Le Roi, however, kept the smile on his face and said nothing. Myuri sighed over her present lot and curled up once again. “God has shown us the right path. This path leads us to a town where all is fair, good, and everyone who lives there enjoys equal happiness.” The one preaching in an extolling cadence was a man who was dressed as a priest and wore a gentle smile. He was the exact opposite of Pierre, whose hair was unkempt and whose personality could be likened to a lightning bolt. In stark contrast, this preacher stood on a crate with the scripture in one hand and spoke eloquently to passing travelers. A considerable number of people on the road first stared at him in surprise, then heard the story from nearby merchants who wore knowing smiles, then serendipitously took the road to the right of the fork. It was at the roadside post town that Col and company came across this sight. They were near enough that they were expecting to see the Estatt city walls on the horizon at any moment. “Is that your fake, Brother…?” Myuri’s spirit had been in tatters since the incident with the moldy bread, and now she glared hard at the preacher in her displeasure. “No. I believe that is simply a guide.” Estatt was at its busiest in the spring with the grand market, so Col had expected the crowds. But there was another reason the roadside post town was so packed with people. Le Roi returned after hearing the explanation from the merchants. “This road leads directly to Estatt, but the road right leads to Ohlburg, the Town of Hope.” “Town of Hope?” Though Canaan was not as furious as Myuri that another was using the Twilight Cardinal name, he was still angry, and his mood soured when he saw the state of the post town. He furrowed his brow and stared at the preacher. “The way he speaks leads me to believe he is basing his speech on the fourth stanza of the psalms in the scripture… But to say heaven has appeared on earth is a heretical cliché.” The fourth stanza of the psalm described a situation where a persecuted people were beset by disaster, but God appeared before them and led them to the Town of Hope. There was a strong element of adventure to the parable, and it was a very popular sermon among the clergy, but it was also a very popular passage for those who styled themselves as a messiah. “I believe your estimation is correct, Archivist Canaan. It seems our Twilight Cardinal is trying to establish a market with no taxes,” Le Roi said, looking to the road on the right, the one that turned east and led farther inland. “I was told Ohlburg will be hosting a holy market, where everyone is to be considered equal. None will be allowed to act high and mighty, and only honorable transactions take place. The Twilight Cardinal apparently gives the people blessed teachings there every day.” While he spoke in all seriousness, a part of his tone made it feel like he was telling a child about the legend of the continent at the edge of the sea. Canaan shook his head in displeasure, Myuri was furious, and Col let his shoulders fall. The imposter was not just a rumor. More importantly, he was attempting to create an open market free from any taxes. What this person was doing was much too ostentatious for a scammer who simply wanted to use Col’s title to secure his daily bread. “What shall we do?” Twilight Cardinal? Le Roi mouthed to Col without making a sound, a hint of mischief in his eye. And at last, Col managed a smile despite his consternation. “We still don’t fully understand the situation, and we are not ready to face him just yet. Let us make our way straight for Estatt.” “I agree. There is no guarantee this Town of Hope will have any proper inns anyway.” That was most certainly not a jab, and that was clear from the map Canaan’s bodyguard was checking as well. If they were to take the road to the right the preacher had gestured toward, they would eventually find themselves on the road following the river that flowed into Estatt, which would then take them farther inland. If they were to continue upstream, they would find a small port town, but that was not Ohlburg, and there was nothing remarkable along the way. The post town they were currently in also sat in the middle of a silvergrass field with no proper trees anywhere, so this area was likely a vast continuation of the peat fields, where no crops could grow. That meant Ohlburg might very well be nothing more than a campsite adjoining the temporary grand market. They wanted to soothe the exhaustion from their journey, and they wanted to collect information, which meant Estatt was the superior option. It also appeared the only travelers in this post town were people fascinated by the idea of a taxless market, so it was unlikely they would hear anything besides biased accounts. “Hear me, hear me! Take your first step into a splendid world!” The preacher’s pleas to follow the right road rang loud behind them as Col and company urged their horses onward to Estatt.
Chapter 115
35 min read