Chapter 122

Col and company, too, had to leave for their early morning mission. “Oh my, I hardly recognized you, Your Eminence,” Le Roi said easily before taking Luward and Eve out to prepare for their departure. Canaan exclaimed with excitement, “It truly suits you!” before leaving after them. All who remained in the room were Col and Myuri, who still had not said anything. “Come now. We’re going, too,” he said, but she did not move. With no other choice, he took to one knee and gazed up at her from below. “You are my knight. You will protect me, won’t you?” Myuri’s eyes widened, her ears and tail popped out, and her fur stood on edge. She then squeezed her eyes shut, hunched her back, and clasped her hands firmly on his face. “You can never change your clothes.” “What?” “Never! You can never take those clothes off, okay?! Promise me!” Though overwhelmed by her desperate attitude, it seemed as though she was not disappointed it did not suit him, and that relieved him. “Am I all right like this? I don’t have a great sword.” Myuri’s ideal warrior priest could heal their allies’ wounds with prayer and split the earth with their voice alone. She pulled her lips into a thin line, jerked her head back, squeezed his head tighter, and dug her nails into his skin. “You’re so mean!” And then, she clung to him in a tight hug. Though Col was not certain about the particulars of Myuri’s taste in clothes, it seemed Hyland had it pinned down. He embraced Myuri in return, patted her head, then stood. “I’ll be watching you work from afar.” It was a dangerous mission that, if he were still back in Nyohhira, he would have gone pale just thinking about it. But Myuri, after wiping away the tears welling in her eyes from excitement, took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the sword at her hip. She beamed straight up at him. “I’ve got this!” she said. An expression that would have given him nothing but anxiety back in Nyohhira now only gave peace of mind. He plopped a hand on her head, had her put away her ears and tail, and they, too, left the room. If, and only if—in the absolutely strongest meaning of the word—the legend of the Twilight Cardinal would be written down, he was certain this moment would be the turning point. When they came down to the loading dock-cum-living space, they found Eve and her group, Le Roi, Canaan, and the mercenaries waiting for them. Luward looked at Col and immediately fell silent. Even Col’s blockheaded self could tell. After checking on Myuri, who was retying her sash, the one with the wolf crest, Col spoke. “Guide the lambs who have been led astray by my imposter. I need the strength of all those present, for the sake of following God’s true teachings.” He paused, took a nervous breath, and continued. “This will be a dangerous mission. I pray God watches over all of us.” There came a silence afterward, and Col wondered if he had said something wrong. But the cheer that came in response, almost powerful enough to crack the windows, blew his worries away. Eve, her underlings, Canaan, and Le Roi remained to organize and oversee those who would find refuge in the city. The townsfolk were surprised to see such a big group of people leaving in the middle of the night, but it was not a terribly uncommon occurrence in a big city like this, one ruled by a prince-elector, so it did not cause much commotion. The guards at the city gates had already received word from the cathedral, and so they let the group through with friendly faces. The night was cloudy and there were no stars visible in the sky, but to the Myuri Mercenary Company, who had fought their way through the mountainous northlands, it was no particular detriment. The company proceeded forward with confidence, and once it came to the hour of night when even the grasses and trees were asleep, they arrived at a hill overlooking Ohlburg in the distance. Here, everyone would take their places in accordance with their roles. The air grew more and more humid, signaling oncoming rain, but this did not stop their plans. Everyone, with their own parts to play, began to distribute carts and supplies and head off to their stations; Col could no longer sit still, and he grabbed Myuri’s arm as she helped with preparations. “Be careful.” Worry was the same as treating her as a child. Col thought she might not like it, but she instead smiled shyly. “Just watch—you won’t have to worry. It’ll be an amazing story.” Everyone present either already knew about Myuri’s true form, or had heard about it and did not mind, so her ears and tail were out. Her eyes gleamed brightly, and he could see her canines beneath her lips whenever she spoke. She was in such a state of excitement that Col would have been anxious about her at any point before this—and he was unbelievably worried, in all honesty—but he managed to stamp that all down. “I know,” he said. “Please work carefully enough that I don’t get these clothes dirty.” Myuri stared at him blankly for a moment before smiling, tickled. “You’d only get in the way if you had a part in this plan. You don’t look like you’re very good at swimming.” She was still her normal self. “And please do not jump at me while still covered in mud.” That seemed more likely than anything. And the clothes he was wearing at the moment were much too expensive to get dirtied with mud. “Sure, but if the plan goes well, then you’re going to wash my hair for me, right?” Myuri’s hair and fur was the color of ash dotted with silver flecks, inherited from her father. It would be rather time-consuming to wash if it got muddied. “Yes, yes. I will.” Myuri grinned. One of the mercenaries called to her, and she turned to him to reply. Then, just before she ran off, she threw her arms around Col in a hug, like a wolf catching its prey. “…You smell like Blondie,” she said as she stepped back, a displeased look on her face, and then rushed to join the other mercenaries. Col watched her energetic form as she left, until he could no longer see her in the dark of night. The next thing he knew, the campsite around them, filled with people and things not moments before, felt a lot quieter and lonelier. “Col—ah, I mean, Twilight Cardinal.” When Luward called for him, Col could not help the awkward smile that rose to his face. “Please, don’t call me that.” “You sure? The practice is important.” When a mercenary captain said that to him, it was much more convincing. He took a couple of chairs from his attendant, set one by Col, then sat in the other next to him, and jerked his chin up. “I hated it when people called me kid, but once people start calling me captain, I get all kinds of itchy.” Col looked at Luward in surprise, and the look he got in return was a soft one. “Don’t tell the guys.” “O-of course not.” But Luward quickly gave a light laugh, placed his hand on Col’s shoulder, and shook him gently. Col thought of him as the most apt person to be called a general in this entire field, but even he had moments of insecurity and self-doubt. Which meant there was nothing for him to be embarrassed about when he shuddered at the thought of the position he now held. And what he was meant to do was not fiddle restlessly in a seat he did not find comfortable, but instead accept this was how it was meant to be and sit still regardless. There was yet a little time before dawn when the operation would begin, but he thought of the people beyond the veil of darkness that were working on getting things ready as he stared at the darkened earth. Myuri must have already been waiting and ready by the river. She would most certainly already be in her wolf form, joyously digging her claws into the soft earth. Though he wished she would not get too covered in mud, when he pictured her rushing at him all muddy and dirty, he could not help but smile. When his eyes darted back, they met with Luward’s attendants’, who stood next to Luward. The boy shrunk, almost apologetically, but there was one reason why Col could not look away. “Is that…Myuri’s?” In his hand, he held the sheaf of papers containing all the stories Myuri was writing. “The miss told him to write down every detail about the Twilight Cardinal’s condition.” “………” That girl… he thought as he looked to the boy with the quill in his hands and said, “Please write down, Not tense, calmly waiting for sunrise.” The boy looked at him wide-eyed, and Luward laughed. In the meanwhile, Sharon’s bird friends, who were acting as go-betweens for each mercenary unit, came one after the other to deliver letters by the faint torchlight. Luward, after reading over all of them, informed Col that everyone had assumed their positions without a hitch. All that was left was to wait for the swindlers, who had been told to cooperate with the plan if they wanted to live. Morning mass should be starting any minute now. According to the letter, Pierre had successfully convinced Hobeln, who repented and thanked God in tears. And so Col prayed both to God, and those who once had been called gods, that all would go well. Despite how far away Ohlburg was, Col heard the faint sound of a bell, perhaps because of the wind. It was then he finally realized he had nodded off at some point. He hurriedly straightened his position in his chair and noticed it was growing brighter around him. But when he put his hand to his face to rub away the drowsiness, he noticed how damp it was. When he looked up, he saw the sky was covered in thick clouds. “This weather must mean God is on our side.” Luward, who had been feeding Sharon’s bird friends while unfolding the area map, noticed Col stirring and called to him. “Perfect weather for a flood.” Though it was not raining quite yet, it could do so at any minute. To be chased under such heavily laden skies would only amplify the fear. “All right, men, pack up. Get the horses,” Luward commanded, and the mercenaries sprang into action. “Can you ride a horse, Your Eminence?” he asked Col. “The wolf spoke to my horse before she left.” Luward shrugged, then hopped on his own horse. Col struggled a bit to get on his—the one he had ridden many times since coming here. And as he waited for the next order, the mercenary at Luward’s side cupped his hands behind his ears, listening for the noise in the distance. “Captain, the commotion has begun.” In the middle of the scammers’ morning mass, Hobeln was supposed to accuse them of being imposters. Around them were all fervent believers who trusted that this was the Twilight Cardinal. Though he had mercenaries protecting him, Col could not help but feel a bit of a stomachache when he thought of Hobeln’s fear. But Hobeln would likely hold his ground until the last possible minute in an attempt to keep his family name from sinking into the dirt. Or did he get pointers from Pierre on how to accuse them? Or had Hobeln been too scared to do it, and so instead Pierre was screaming in the imposter’s face? Either way, as the scene inevitably grew more chaotic, things would get out of hand. Col wondered what sort of faces the swindlers were making as they stood on the podium. Were they frustrated their plans were falling apart? Or were they nervous about whether they would be allowed to live? Or were they scheming on ways to escape? It was likely that part would ultimately be recorded as conjecture in the official records. On the other hand, the mercenary apprentice was recording in detail, on Myuri’s orders, what Col’s face looked like. He tensed his expression so she would not laugh at him later and waited for the next development. “There’s a bird. Let’s head to the river for now.” Chaos was spreading through Ohlburg after the accusation, it seemed. And then, once the blood rushed to their heads, they would be splashing all of them with water, as one did with fighting cats. “Man. This is giving me the chills, and nothing scares me!” Luward said. He turned his horse around and headed north. After riding for a bit, Col felt a drop of water hit his cheek. A mist-like rain had finally begun to fall. Past the horse’s head, as it dashed through the grasses and kicked up darkened earth, he spotted the gray, featureless river. In the distance, there were several ships docked along the shoreline. But farther upstream, what Col saw caused him to hold his breath. “Now that’s a sight,” Luward said, almost unintentionally. A deep, dark ditch had been dug into the ground among the sparse grass. Even from this distance, he could see spouts of earth spring up from the ditch, and Col thought he was catching glimpses of a white tail. The mercenary standing on top of the embankment was slamming down what looked like a giant hammer. After one, two strikes, the earth at his feet crumbled away, and just as he, too, seemed like he would fall, another mercenary pulled him to safety. It was strange that it made no sound. But Col could see with his own eyes the water was beginning to flow, forming a deluge that rushed down the ditch with ferocious speed. Myuri stayed in the ditch until the last moment when she hopped out, and the muddied waters danced through the earth. The flow of the water destroyed the embankment, and even more water flowed through the broken parts of the embankment, speeding up the destruction. The next thing he knew, a huge swath of ground was already covered in muddy water, and it was only growing wider with every passing moment. Col grew nervous wondering if they would be able to put the embankment back together, but Myuri and the mercenaries were already working in tandem to prepare for that step. “It’s fine. We’ll be protecting the little miss. Lady Holo would rip out our throats if something happened to her,” Luward said with a smile, turning to Col. Col almost asked to suffer the same fate if that happened. “And now Ohlburg— Oh, would you look at that.” Col turned to look where Luward was pointing to see a group of horses in the distance. They were people who had seen Hobeln’s accusation of the imposters and heard his prophecy about the flood, and had come here on their horses. But they must have noticed the water rushing toward them at their feet. They hurriedly pulled to a stop, decided not to proceed any farther, then turned back. The land here was low from years of mining, and once water reached this terrain, it would work like a water channel. And if necessary, the underground drainage channels could carry water just like they were designed to. They galloped away at top speed, and soon vanished from view. “Let’s go, Mister Luward.” The muddied water flattened the grasses and silvergrass like a swarm of mice as it rushed down the hill. As they followed the flow to Ohlburg, Col tightened his grip on the reins. Col would not be the one, personally, to save the people. But he had to see this through. “O God, please protect them. O God—” As he murmured his prayer, the horse rushed forward. And when they arrived at the hill overlooking the town of Ohlburg, they found the town already plunged into chaos. “The water! The water’s coming!” “Head for the cathedral! That’s the only place that will save us from this divine punishment!” As the people raced about in confusion, the mercenaries shouted from outside the town to chase them out. Some ran with only the clothes on their back, while some ran hoisting bags that were bigger than themselves. There was even one who ran holding their large cooking pot—there were all sorts. Eventually, the rush of people began to take proper shape. Several priests stood atop crates, gesturing with their hands and bodies as to where the road was. It seemed there were not only scammers in the town, but real priests among them, too. The people followed their voices, and when they found the path they were meant to take they began to walk, and others fell in step behind them. Col squinted as he watched, and he spotted someone on horseback waving a banner and shouting orders to the people—that was probably Hobeln. His family had used their pumps to drain this land, which had once been completely underwater, and made it livable. Such historic authority must have been hugely helpful when it came to persuading the masses. The people of Ohlburg had fallen into a panic, their energy ballooning and threatening to burst and scatter them in every direction, but the traffic was slowly taking proper shape again, falling into one stream of people heading west. Col most certainly felt guilty he had shattered their innocent hopes. Those who were there to do trade, and many who were there for work, likely had to give up a considerable amount of their livelihoods. There were some who had tumbled to the ground as they ran, and there were even a few who sat limply on the back of the mercenaries’ horses. The road to the cathedral dipped downward for a short while, and while they were headed downhill, they would likely be fighting the fear that came with running from the water. The path would start curling back uphill at some point, but it was still quite a bit of a distance on foot. The water had already reached the northern edge of Ohlburg and was painting the ground a muddy brown, as though it were a living creature. There were people around the arrested Twilight Cardinal imposter demanding he be let go, but they gave up at the very last moment and ran for their lives. Once the mercenaries had him and his accomplices tied up and on their horses at the rear of the procession, they finally headed west, spraying water as they moved. Among them all, there was one horse that remained there, standing. Even from far away, who it was stood out—it was Hobeln, gazing at the Church of the Beginning. One of the mercenaries called to him, and he regretfully turned his horse around. The water was growing ever higher, and already reached the ankles of the horse he was riding. Though it was likely the imposter had forced him into cooperating with them, he must have been secretly hoping, somewhere deep down, it would restore his family to greatness. But he quickly set his horse into a canter, as though shaking off the bad dream that was Ohlburg. And thus, Ohlburg, a town once brimming with fervor and energy, was rendered a husk in minutes. Without any people around, the collection of shanties and huts looked like nothing more than a shabbily built settlement. No sight could be more convincing that faith and fanaticism could be so feeble and fragile. Col wiped away the raindrops from his face, then told the note-taking attendant to note they were not tears. Luward, who had likely experienced countless retreat tactics under the employ of many lords, looked as though he had grown used to seeing such devastation. Despite how flat the water looked, it was undoubtedly flowing fast. Col and Luward set off, too, so they would not end up caught in the deluge. And the fast-flowing water had already caught up to the tail end of those people venturing on foot. It seemed as though they were giving in more and more to the sense of despair. The sharp-eyed mercenaries had chosen a path along a little ridge among the lowlands, and so while the people would not end up swept away by the water, the fear that led them to run away on foot would be very real. Col did his best to hold back the urge to cheer them on as he followed at a safe distance from behind, and before long, he started hearing hymns. Someone had begun to sing in order to squeeze out every last ounce of courage they had, and soon everyone was joining in. Luward, holding a giant wolf banner, drew his lips back in a wry smile at the bold display of faith in the face of terror, and his attendant, who still was pure of heart, held his breath in awe. In the sky above the people as they walked across the barren landscape, chased away by water, Sharon’s friends flew in circles like angels. If this were to be illustrated in the annals, then it would surely strike a chord with the people who read it. “Your Eminence,” Luward said, trotting alongside Col. “It’s your turn.” He spoke briefly, and turned to look at Col. Luward was giving commands with regard to the operation as a whole, but Col was present for an even greater purpose. Perhaps this had developed a little differently than how he had hoped things would go. But his destination was the exact same as it was when he left Nyohhira. “Of course.” He kicked the horse’s side, gripped the reins, and galloped off. Luward allowed him to get a head start and did not immediately follow, letting the distance between them grow. All he could hear were the horse’s hooves, the horse’s breath, the wind cutting his ears, and the faint sound of rain hitting his cheek. And the hymns of those seeking salvation. He had looked at the map ahead of time and he had been briefed on the geography. He made his way to a hill a bit higher than the rest as he carefully chose which ups and downs of the landscape to take. And then, he spotted a bird above his head—it seemed to be leading him. He had a feeling this was Myuri’s suggestion. Her big brother was foolish, unreliable, and whatnot. Col looked up to the bird and waved at it with a little smile. It flew in a little circle before leaving. His destination was right below where the bird was. This was about the point in their journey where the people would realize the land was starting to slope upward. Though there was still a ways to go to their destination, they should have been able to see the cathedral’s spire from that point. Col stood atop the hill, and from there, he could faintly see the procession. He was not there to do anything in particular—not that there was anything he could do in the first place. But that alone still played a role. Luckily, the rain was not very strong; the misty droplets were, if anything, perfect for the mood. “O God, grant us salvation.” As he murmured this, he lifted his right hand. All the people who had been looking at their feet raised their heads, simply because they could now see the cathedral spire. All Col was doing was standing in the distance and silently pointing toward their destination like a fool. Though the rain was not coming down very hard, the droplets made it hazy, like mist hanging in the air. It was unlikely anyone expected to find a person standing there. But Col almost felt as though he could sense a few people’s eyes on him. And he did not mind if it only turned out to be his imagination. He pointed more firmly to the west, to where the people were headed. He smiled faintly, because he had a feeling he now understood why Myuri was so insistent on writing stories every night.