CHAPTER ONE Boys born in small villages often swung around sticks and wanted to pretend to be a hero. They dreamed of one day proving themselves and winning glory on the battlefield. On occasion, some boys found no passion in those dreams. They would instead devote themselves to the prayers the other children found so tiresome. They would ask for lessons from the bishop, who was the only one in the village who could read. Some eventually grew up to be merchants, notaries, or even members of the clergy. Plenty of tales about legendary figures started out this way; it was a popular subject among bards in taverns. But everyone and everything had their strengths and weaknesses. Sometimes, those who made their dreams come true learned that things were not as they envisioned. That was especially true for positions of great power—a common dream among common people. “Brother…How long are we supposed to stay in this city?” The carriage creaked and rattled as it trundled along. A thick, crimson curtain hung over the windows, immediately identifying the carriage as the property of a noble. The Twilight Cardinal’s rallying cry was righting the Church’s wrongs and sweeping away the corruption and excess that had built up over decades of the Church’s arrogance—as the Twilight Cardinal, Col felt somewhat conflicted about riding in such a luxurious carriage. But just the other day, he had experienced firsthand what would happen if he tried to explore the city on foot. Once the meeting at the cathedral had ended, Col turned down the archbishop’s offer for a carriage ride back to the inn and decided to take a walk around Estatt. When a fake Twilight Cardinal had hoodwinked the people of the city, silence filled Estatt, replacing the typical noise and bustle of the seasonal grand market. But now that those who had been enthralled by the imposter had been doused with cold water and woken up, life had returned to Estatt. This had been when Myuri asked to take a look around the market. Col wanted to suggest they at least return to the inn and change first, but Myuri was about to burst after sitting through the very long meeting, and she was not particularly interested in listening to him. Regional lords and other individuals of status attended the meeting, so Col had worn the habit Hyland had gifted to him. Myuri also wore her white robes, dressing up as the Saint of the Sun, a figure whose smile was said to cure illness. Both their outfits were rather stuffy, but Col assumed it would be fine to take a little walk around the grand market. It wasn’t long before he realized his mistake. When he decided that greasy pork skewers clashed too much with Myuri’s graceful appearance in her robes, he instead bought her some hard honey candies. Then he looked around and was shocked by what he saw. An unbelievable crowd of people had been staring at them from a distance. As memories of that moment played in his head, he turned from the carriage curtains and glanced at Myuri sitting beside him. “We will need to stay in this city for a little longer. First, we need to wait for officials to come from the Kingdom of Winfiel so that we can exchange memorandums with the archbishop regarding future matters. Moreover, the archbishop mentioned that several ruling nobles are on their way to Estatt because they heard we are here. We cannot leave until we’ve gotten acquainted with those nobles.” The recent commotion surrounding the fake Twilight Cardinal had happened precisely because his name had spread so far despite no one knowing what he looked like. Even if the talks with the nobles did not lead anywhere, simply becoming acquainted with them had meaning. Of course, in Myuri’s mind, conversations with important people meant delicious meals. While they were indeed often treated to arrays of delicious-looking dishes at every social function, people would constantly come over to greet them, ask for handshakes, offer a prayer, and even say that so-and-so’s eldest son just so happens to be the right age for Myuri…And so they never had a free moment to actually eat. Even Myuri grew listless under the constant attention, like an overstimulated cat. Typically, she would immediately shed her saint robes and head into town with coppers in hand, but unfortunately, that was not an option. And that was because the townsfolk knew their faces now. “Sigh…I wish we could go someplace where no one knew us.” Myuri pulled Col close, burying her face in his side. The people knew her face, and her hair was eye-catching even under normal circumstances—she had no hope of taking a leisurely stroll throughout the city. And despite that, she was not the type who could bear to wait by herself at the inn, so she followed Col to all the meetings at the cathedral. As a result, it was places like this carriage, where no one else was looking, that she was all over him like this. Col wondered what the people would think if they saw the Twilight Cardinal and the Saint of the Sun acting like this out on the street. When he had bought her the honey candy at the market, the townsfolk had reportedly interpreted it as a display of the pure, pastoral love between brother and sister, but the Saint of the Sun was not so proper, and of course, the Twilight Cardinal was not so holy. “Do you understand now why I said I didn’t want any fame?” Col asked. He wore a small smile, but not because he enjoyed scolding Myuri. It was because despite how much of a hassle fame was, it did have its benefits. When they had originally dropped by the cathedral for research back when they were working to dispatch the imposters, entering the library required following a troublesome set of procedures and a sizable donation. But now they could come and go as they pleased, and they were allowed to borrow any book they wanted. On that particular day, Col had taken out a valuable theological commentary on the scripture. As he treated every turn of the dusty pages like the tome was his dearest and greatest treasure, Myuri growled at him resentfully. “We can’t even do what we want…” The only places where they could act freely were in the carriage, at the inn, and at the warehouse Eve was renting. Everywhere else, people were always watching. And whenever Col and Myuri were spotted, a crowd would quickly surround them to complain about illness, ask for good luck, or plead for God’s blessing on just about anything. Col and Myuri could not find safe refuge at even the inn sometimes; a great big line would quickly form outside their room if the innkeeper was not careful. “There are plenty of books in the cathedral library. I thought you were delighted you could go as you liked.” Myuri was truly fed up with all the meetings, so she took every chance she could get to slip away and hide in the library. There were plenty of battle records and war chronicles there to keep her entertained. But apparently there were swarms of people who wanted to catch a glimpse of the Saint of the Sun at the library. The priests keeping the peace at the library had reportedly shooed away all the obvious gawkers, but they could not completely erase her from sight. And that meant Myuri had no choice but to sit up properly when she read her books; lounging around while chewing on jerky, letting her tail thwap the bed as she read at her leisure, was but a dream within a dream. She was terribly discontented. “Sigh…And Uncle Luward was supposed to teach me sword fighting, too.” The usually energetic Myuri was gone; now she was limp as moldy bread. Though Col felt bad for her, he hoped this would temper some of her wild energy and teach her to be more ladylike. With that thought in mind, he settled his hand on her head in a perfunctory manner and said, “Well, now you get to experience how it feels to be a princess plotting to escape the castle, don’t you?” Myuri stopped whining, elbowed him in the side, and then sulked a bit before dozing off. Just when it seemed as though Myuri was about to burst from the dissatisfaction of spending every day doing nothing but going back and forth between the inn and the cathedral, there was finally a lull in the meetings. For the first time in a long while, Col and Myuri took the chance to visit the warehouse Eve was renting. If they were to visit without adequate preparation, the townsfolk would swarm the warehouse, and they would have to call in the city guard; they could not simply drop by as they pleased. And so Myuri was in the courtyard, working hard on her sword swings as though she were cutting away her frustration. The rest of the adults gathered on the first floor of the warehouse to discuss future plans. It had not been long ago that the warehouse had been empty and quiet; now it was filled to the brim with cargo. With the Twilight Cardinal’s official backing, Eve was working hard and handling a great deal of business. And so the first thing on the agenda was to move some cargo out of the way to make room, after which a long table was brought in so they could unfurl a large map over it. The person practically hovering over the map, writing all over it, was one who was more excited about the Twilight Cardinal than anyone else—Canaan. “With this much support from the nobility, I believe it will be easy to not only gain support from the Estatt archbishop, but from the other prince-electors as well.” What filled the map were the names of all the nobles who had traveled to the city just to see the Twilight Cardinal. “In fact, inquiries are coming in not just from those under the archbishop’s jurisdiction, but from all over the empire. Everyone is watching you, Master Col!” Canaan had been acting the part of a loyal private secretary during all the meetings and talks. There was an astounding number of towns, villages, and churches within the territory Estatt ruled over, and dozens of people submitted requests to meet Col each day. There was even a significant number of notable lords as well, and that meant Col quickly lost track of who was who right from the start. It was then that Canaan proactively wrote down all their names, spoke with officials who had special petitions, and whenever they were invited to a special feast in their territory, he skillfully turned down the offer with the appropriate apologies and excuses. Canaan had evidently learned how to act this way working at the Holy See, which was also constantly filled with people who came bearing many a petition or appeal. With noble grace and a dash of aloofness, he deftly handled all the invitations by politely assuring each one they would certainly attend if they ever had the chance. If Col were in charge, he would agonize every time he had to turn someone down, thinking it was rude, and would probably end up giving in to persistent petitioners. Other people who saw this happen would then invite him to their home, and he would soon reach a point of no return. Col knew his personal knight was not much use in this department, so having such a reliable helper was a lifesaver. However, Canaan’s role meant he was typically by Col’s side for the whole duration of these sorts of meetings, and that did create one problem. Whenever he met up with Myuri to return to the inn, the wolf girl would stare at him suspiciously and begin sniffing the air around him loudly and theatrically. She would then spend most of her time in his personal space, not necessarily because she missed him, but to reassert her territory. With a tired sigh he let his gaze flit over to Canaan, who was beginning to write down the names and locations of more nobles who might end up joining their cause, only for someone else to call for him. “Master Col, you have quite a mountain of inquiries as to when you’ll be putting your teachings to paper.” It was Le Roi, the bookseller. “I think it might be time to pick up the pen,” he added with a friendly smile. His inviting smile belied his incredible cunning—he was the one who had suggested in the first place that if Col were to write a book criticizing the Church, it would sell like hotcakes. But the archbishop himself had said something similar. More specifically, he had told Col the Twilight Cardinal should write down his thoughts as soon as possible. “I agree with Mister Le Roi’s idea!” Canaan exclaimed enthusiastically as he lifted his gaze from the map. Canaan admired the Twilight Cardinal so much it always put Myuri on edge—and of course, this came from a very real problem. Rumors about the Twilight Cardinal were spreading in places and ways the man himself was oblivious to. And that meant the general impression the people had of him was so exaggerated they believed he could talk to dry grass and make flowers bloom, or that he could summon dark storm clouds and bring down lightning on any corruption he saw. Silly tales like that were not even the worst of it, since some were causing active harm to his image; apparently, there were rumors of him carrying around the grim reaper’s scythe, beheading evildoers wherever he spotted them. Merchants and the like from towns that were not very well connected had even approached him, clutching their hats, and pleaded to him with the most sincere expressions— “We would like to obey God’s teachings, but, O Twilight Cardinal! It will ruin our livelihoods if profits themselves are banned! Please, have mercy on us, Twilight Cardinal!” But assumptions like those were not limited to rural towns or those without much outside access. The archbishop and other clergy of Estatt had acted in a similar manner. After the incident with Ohlburg, it was hard to forget the looks on their faces when he asked them to be lenient with the imposter and Hobeln, who was being manipulated by the imposter. The archbishop himself had thought the Twilight Cardinal had been traveling the world in search of evildoers so that he could bring down the wrath of God onto these wretches. That was when it really struck Col that he needed to collect his thoughts and write them into a book so he could correct the misunderstandings about him that were circulating throughout the world. But he was reluctant. “I am eager to challenge the Church, yes, but I am not particularly interested in spreading my personal thoughts…” And he knew no matter what he wrote, it would still invite misunderstandings and misconstructions, and that scared him. He recalled the moment he had turned around that day, when he and Myuri had leisurely been walking around the grand market, when he had bought her that honey candy. Myuri had, of course, realized there were people following and watching them, but she had apparently not thought they would be so enthusiastic about it. In an unusual change of pace, she had acted like a real little sister and hid behind him. The thought of expressing his thoughts to these people frightened him, and he also felt like it was presumptuous of him. Though he had made the decision to bear the name of the Twilight Cardinal, he did not yet have the strength needed to carry the full weight of the title. If he were to take on such a weighty duty all at once, his legs would give out. “Then what about street sermons?” The suggestion had come from Pierre, the wandering priest sitting in the corner of the warehouse fervently reading the scripture. “Street sermons are fantastic. You feel the true pleasure of directly guiding people onto the path of God! Why don’t we hold a sermon with all three of us, including Mister Canaan?! I feel it would be worth competing with the both of you if you were to join me!” Pierre was adept at getting those who typically did not listen to stop and consider God’s teachings—his passion earned him vague smiles from both Canaan and Col. But the reason he was in Eve’s warehouse was because Col had been relying on him a great deal recently. Supporters of the Twilight Cardinal were not the only ones who came to the cathedral. Some visitors were here for sight-seeing—including a number of rather critical lords and nobles. Whenever these people offered barbed words along with their handshakes, Pierre would appear. He would always rush to the scene, scripture in hand, as if he were heading into battle. Col found this surprisingly reassuring. Then a dry clap rang out in the warehouse. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m glad to see you all hale and hearty, but you need to settle on what city we’re going to next. I need time to prep, you know.” Eve stepped into the hall—she was the one who had been clothing, feeding, and housing Col and Myuri, and the one who oversaw the extensive groundwork that needed to be laid down. As Hyland’s representative, she was the one taking care of the more secular affairs for the Twilight Cardinal’s entourage. “The most sensible thing would be heading to one of the remaining prince-elector’s territories next,” Le Roi proclaimed as he looked down at the open map. “I believe talks would go smoothly if we spoke to an elector who is on good terms with the archbishop of Estatt. We could also make our way to the other cathedral city within the empire, but I do not recommend taking that route. What do you think, Archivist Canaan?” With a smudge of ink still on his cheek, Canaan replied with an earnest nod. “I agree with Mister Le Roi. Brothers who share a house might choose not to listen to one another. The Estatt cathedral, especially, has traditionally fought the Holy See for authority, and it would not be unusual for the opposing cathedral to be on much friendlier terms with the Holy See.” When the ancient empire was expanding its territory, the priests who had accompanied the army built a church, and it was said to have served as the foundation for the city of Estatt. And so it was said Estatt’s cathedral was either built at the same time as the Holy See, or was perhaps even older; of course, it was recognized as having great authority, and as a result it was not on especially good terms with the central governing body of the Church. “So,” Canaan continued. “Since we’re gathering allies for the ecumenical council, His Grace the archbishop has suggested we visit Prince-Elector Gobrea, since he’s well connected.” “Gobrea…I’m pretty sure he’s the most powerful prince-elector in the empire,” Eve murmured. She folded her arms and stared at the map. “If we get him, then that means the other electors will follow. And if we get the majority of the electors…then the emperor himself will side with Col, too. Assuming all goes well, that would make it the easiest route.” Col wished he could earn most people’s support by accurately preaching on the wrongdoings of the Church, but those in secular power often decided what side to join for political reasons. And that meant he had to be careful how he played his pieces on the board. He would probably never grow fond of this sort of business, but on the day they had exposed the imposters, as he watched the muddy floodwaters surge from the diverted river, he vowed to play the part of the Twilight Cardinal. A bitter taste had begun spreading in Col’s mouth and he swallowed hard before he said, “Then let’s go with that. Can I trust you all to get things moving?” He felt as though nothing about him had changed since leaving Nyohhira. But people with power had flocked to him and were offering their assistance. And it was their help and reach that allowed him to cover every corner of the open map on the table. “Of course,” Canaan said. “Naturally,” Le Roi said. “You have my help as well,” Pierre said. Once the others had given their consent, Eve spoke last, like the head of the household. “Getting used to being in charge yet?” she asked, a tease in her grin. Col shot back a wry smile of his own, one he felt was a little more grown-up than the ones he used to give her back when she called him Little Col. The officials from the Winfiel Kingdom arrived. The fight against the Church had originally begun because the Winfiel Kingdom had spoken out against their tyranny, so the world knew them as the leaders of the movement. It was also widely known the Twilight Cardinal was on friendly terms with Winfiel royalty, and he had the royals’ backing. But society was rather picky when it came to fame and renown. While many of the mainland lords were not particularly fond of the Church, that did not necessarily mean they were happy the Kingdom of Winfiel was leading the charge. To make matters more complicated, the Winfiel Kingdom and the many territories that stood opposite it on the other side of the strait historically have always been deeply involved with one another, for better or worse. Even if they decided to recruit those who agreed to side with the Twilight Cardinal in a heartbeat, there were still plenty of problems they had to sort out first. Col was completely clueless when it came to the subtleties of these situations, so he needed the help of these officials—the professionals in this sort of business. As these bureaucrats surrounded him, and Col slowly transformed into the Twilight Cardinal, they at last penned the official agreement that confirmed the Estatt cathedral would assist the Twilight Cardinal. Then, right as he felt like one weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders, the officials from the Winfiel Kingdom saddled him with an armful of letters. When he brought them all back to their room at the inn, Myuri looked at him with a disgruntled half smile. Half of the thick bundles of parchment were letters from Hyland, after all. They were filled with worries about their travels—had they fallen ill? Were they eating properly? A good portion of them were also reports—the printing of the vernacular scripture was going well, and soon they would be able to support the Twilight Cardinal’s cause from afar; the Knights of Saint Kruza, who Col and Myuri had once helped, were visiting every corrupt church within the kingdom and knocking sense into them, et cetera. More than a few were addressed to Myuri, of course. Before leaving the kingdom, Hyland had taught her how to act like the Saint of the Sun—one of these letters included detailed instructions on etiquette so she could continue refining her act. Surprisingly, the bundle included a seasonal greeting from Hyland’s older brother, Prince Klevend, and even a letter from Sharon. It was addressed to Myuri, of course, sharply advising the little wolf stop overworking her fellow birds. Myuri seemed pleased reading the letters from Hyland, but the letter from Sharon caused her to pick up her pen like she was arming herself for battle. Meanwhile, the meetings at the cathedral moved toward a more businesslike atmosphere due to the presence of the Winfiel officials, and so the number of lords who came by to say hello began to dwindle. Col and his companions were already preparing to move to a new town. This was the brief moment of rest and calm before they ventured off again. Col was sitting quietly in the inn room, for the first time in a very long while, flipping through the scripture, when a pigeon landed on the windowsill. A letter was attached to its leg, and he assumed it was part of Myuri and Sharon’s cross-strait spat. But the pigeon did not smell of the sea, and its wings did not seem as though it had been battered by the ocean winds. Instead, it smelled terribly dry and dusty, and unlike the city pigeons who were spoiled with choice for food, there was a sharpness to its features. Myuri, who had been lounging on the bed and writing her latest fantasy knight tales, lifted her head and nudged closer. “Who’s it from?” “Wait just a moment.” Col undid the paper wrapped around the pigeon’s leg. On the small scrap of paper was even smaller writing. “…It’s from Vadan.” “What, the mouse?” Myuri peered at him curiously. Vadan was a so-called rat of the sea—a mouse spirit, one who piloted a ship that ventured far from shore, and who had recently collaborated closely with an eccentric noble in a smuggling ring. But even Col’s nose could tell this pigeon did not smell like the sea at all. Myuri drew her face in closer to the pigeon, and the pigeon seemed rather displeased by that. “What did he say?” The pigeon craned its neck back, ready to escape at any moment, and Myuri stepped back. She grabbed a handful of beans from the sack and scattered them on the windowsill as a reward for the pigeon. “Let’s see, it says…” As Col’s eyes skimmed the brief message, he cut himself off. The pigeon was much less wary after receiving its treat, and so Myuri ran her fingers over its feathers. When Col stopped, Myuri stared up at him blankly. “Get changed,” he said. “Huh?” “We’re going to Miss Eve’s.” Myuri looked at him, her wolf ears flicking every which way, as though trying to pick out the sounds of prey in the forest. “Miss Ilenia has been placed in jail.” Myuri’s eyes widened, and she crushed the remaining beans in her hand. There was a crowd of people loitering outside the inn hoping to catch a glimpse of the Twilight Cardinal; Col pushed his way through the crowd so he and Myuri could get in the carriage and hurry to Eve’s. When they got there, there were mountains of goods and a throng of people outside. But these were not townsfolk here to offer their prayers. As Myuri stepped down from the carriage, a cloud of melancholy crossed her expression. “Oh, right. Uncle Luward’s leaving already.” The name Myuri had once belonged to an ancient wolf. The Myuri Mercenary Company had passed down that ancient name over generations. They were the ones who had rushed to Col’s aid when they were taking care of the pretender Twilight Cardinal, but there was no place for them in a peaceful city. Once the commotion died down and the officials from the kingdom had arrived, the mercenary band had decided it was time for them to go. “I guess…they’re not coming with us to save Miss Ilenia.” If Myuri had been an innocent, naive girl, then Col might have said, “I suppose not,” but she was neither innocent nor naive. She knew exactly what Ilenia was. Ilenia’s characteristic fluffy hair made her look mild-mannered, but she was no ordinary human. She was, in fact, a massive sheep, one who could tow a beached ship with nothing more than a rope tying her to the vessel. Which meant, if she had been thrown in jail, it was likely more apt to say she had chosen to obediently sit in a jail cell. And upon closer inspection of Vadan’s letter, there was no sense of urgency in the way he wrote. So really, Myuri’s disappointment that Luward and the other mercenaries could not help them save Ilenia was another way of expressing an entirely different emotion buried in her chest. “Traveling always comes with good-byes,” Col said, placing his hand on Myuri’s head. Surprisingly, she did not swat him away. Despite that, once she pushed open the heavy doors to the warehouse, a knightly expression appeared on her face once more, as though she knew she could not show weakness in front of the mercenaries. “Listen up, everyone! I want to go save Miss Ilenia!” she shouted. Eve and Luward, both of whom had just so happened to be discussing the departure inside, looked over in surprise. They sent someone out to go fetch Canaan and Pierre, who were busy working at the cathedral with the kingdom officials. They also had someone look for Le Roi, who had gone to stock books at one of the city trading companies. In the meantime, Col told Eve what Vadan’s letter said, and he asked Luward for his opinion. “There has to be a good reason why Ilenia’s letting them put her in jail.” Eve was Ilenia’s employer. “But is there a chance that someone way stronger arrested her?” Myuri asked. Ilenia had a decidedly sheepish calm about her, but she was exceptionally stubborn and acted with decisiveness. Col assumed Myuri had asked her question to consider every possibility, no matter how remote, but what the rambunctious girl said next was something Col was not expecting. “Wasn’t it the legendary mercenary king who arrested her?” What? Col looked at her, confused; Luward folded his arms, contemplative. “Sounds like this Ilenia girl has power like the rest of you do…I haven’t heard any rumors the mercenary king might be the same, though. And the legend part actually belongs to his ancestor—haven’t heard a lick of the current-day king going out to any wars.” Luward was seriously entertaining Myuri’s question. He was especially kind to Myuri, but it did not seem as though he was simply going along with one of her wild fantasies. “May I ask who this legendary mercenary king is?” Col could not help but wonder. “You don’t know, Brother?” Myuri replied. “The legendary mercenary king, Iron Arm Duran!” Why would I know who that is? is what Col was about to coolly reply, but he found himself tripping over that name. Myuri loved stories, and she spoke a lot about them; he wondered if he had first heard the name from her. No, he had encountered it quite recently. When that thought crossed his mind, he realized it had been written on the map. “Prince-Elector Duran.” He was one of the seven prince-electors within the Holy Livorian Empire. “You said Ilenia was looking for someone when she found herself in Duran’s territory and was thrown in jail for kidnapping, right?” Eve asked. Myuri nodded. “It said she was looking for a fortune-teller.” “An astronomer,” Col corrected. Astronomers and astrologers were the same in Myuri’s mind. “She must have been looking for an astronomer in her quest for the new continent, since they research celestial navigation,” he continued. “She must have learned that Prince-Elector Duran employed a capable astronomer, so she went to go see them and found out they were missing. Miss Ilenia must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time—it seems they got the wrong idea that she was involved with the astronomer’s disappearance…That’s the impression I got from the letter.” The paper the letter was written on was not very big, so there were scant details, and it was likely done with the possibility in mind the pigeon might be caught by a hunter. All the letter asked was that they come to the city Prince-Elector Duran rules, the mountain city of Wobern, and help resolve the problem. “It’s asking you to resolve the issue, implying they’re not asking you to save Ilenia.” Eve was somehow amused by this. Luward added, “But I kind of get why they asked for Little Col—er, the Twilight Cardinal.” Col had first met Luward when he was around Myuri’s age, and that was what he used to call him—it almost felt deliberate he had called Col that first before correcting himself. “Prince-Elector Duran’s territory is a harsh mountain range. Land’s barren, and they’re no strangers to famine. The only real jobs they have out there come from the lumber industry, thanks to their thick forests, or smithing, which consumes a lot of that lumber. Everyone else picks up a spear and makes a living with mercenary work. The Duran family worked their way up from mercenaries to imperial prince-elector originally anyway, so you could say it’s tradition.” “They’re strong, but not very adaptable,” Eve added, bringing a grin to Luward’s face. “They’re hardworking when it comes to their jobs and they’re faithful. They’re mountain people, so they’re implacable and narrow-minded. Probably the people who are least compatible with the fancy church folk who live on the plains.” Col sighed when he saw the way Myuri craned her neck forward in excitement; he then turned to Luward and asked, “Do you mean to say it’s likely they’ll be our allies in our fight against the Church?” “Pretty likely, I think,” Luward replied. “And considering what’s coming next, geographically speaking, it’s not a bad idea.” “Geographically?” Col asked in return. When he did, Myuri leaned over the large table and dragged the map toward herself. “What’s that mean, Boss?” she asked. Luward laughed when she called him that, then pointed at a spot on the map. “Wobern’s here.” “Hmm…That’s really far inland. I bet it’s not humid there at all!” The humid wind blowing in from the bay and the surrounding boglands meant bread could go bad in an instant in the Estatt area unless painstakingly stored. She was still very unhappy with how her hair frizzed and her tail got so sticky. “It’s really east…and then south from here. Is it warmer there?” “Opposite. It’s cold, and it’s more like the north than things here.” “…Huh?” It sounded like a riddle, and when Myuri thought about it, her ears and tail popped out. “Myuri, ears and tail,” Col reminded her. Myuri gave him a look, as though believing it was fine since Canaan and the others were not around, but she ultimately put them away. “Wobern’s known as the mountain city,” Luward explained. “…” Myuri furrowed her brow, looking like she wanted to emphasize that her home was in the mountains, too. “It’s nothing like Nyohhira. The peaks reach all the way to the sky, and no trees grow on those mountains—even the best knights from the old imperial era had second thoughts about crossing them.” “You’d be able to go straight from the north to the south without those mountains in the way. That mountain range makes merchants cry,” Eve added. Myuri’s jaw hung open in surprise as she stared at the map. “They say that a long time ago, during the time of the ancient empire, the famously dauntless imperial army paved a road through the mountains. But to southerners, that story’s basically a saying that means something’s impossible. And that’s why Wobern isn’t considered a southern city. In terms of how people move from place to place, it’s considered the southernmost point of the north.”
Chapter 126
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