Chapter 129

CHAPTER TWO As rumor had it, every book that ever existed could be found within the Curia’s archives. Canaan had spent his whole life in that sea of pages, and even he had scarcely ever heard of the Moon-Hunting Bear. Its true name was so old that it had been lost long ago; now all that remained was its nickname, and this nickname only appeared in a small handful of very ancient tales. Yet at the same time, spirit people would never, ever forget the nickname; it stirred dark feelings for Myuri in particular. “Are you saying the Moon-Hunting Bear is in these mountains?” She asked this so flatly that it shocked Canaan. He was used to how expressive she was—either constantly crying, laughing, or raging—and he had never seen her like this before. Ilenia, who looked just a bit older than Myuri, smiled placidly and replied, “That I don’t know, unfortunately. But what Miss Diana told me was terribly interesting. She suggested the very moon the Moon-Hunting Bear was hunting might have fallen here once upon a time.” “What…?” Myuri was dumbfounded. Ilenia kept the mischief in her smile. The moon the Moon-Hunting Bear hunted? Col was momentarily taken aback. It sounded like wordplay, but at the same time, it could be plausible. But there was one among them who did not move at all. “Does this story refer to a star of catastrophe?” Canaan was likely the most well-read of everyone present—Myuri’s gaze snapped to him, immediately latching onto what he said. He flinched, then continued. “There are a small number of these records within the Church’s archives. They state that from ancient times, brighter stars than usual streak across the heavens. Occasionally, from among them appears a malevolent star, which strays from its path and brings catastrophe to the earth.” Myuri had grown up deep in the mountains—she had seen plenty of shooting stars in her life. But to hear of them falling was another matter entirely. “It…falls from the sky?” Even this girl, who loved getting lost in any sort of unreasonable fairy tale, did not so easily accept this as fact. But it was not entirely out of the realm of things one heard while traveling. Col, too, had heard tell of such things. “It does happen sometimes, Myuri. I have seen a star-sword, forged from metal that has fallen from the sky. Strangely enough, it’s said to hold the power to draw the enemy’s sword from their hands into yours.” Myuri’s eyes rounded, her mouth agape. “Archivist Canaan,” Col began. “Do you mean to say the Moon-Hunting Bear caught one of those stars?” “Yes. I believe…this land may have been formed in that way to begin with.” “What?! Wait, what? What does that mean?” Myuri asked in turn. “When malevolent stars fall, they’re likened to God’s iron hammer,” Canaan replied. Col thought that was a good comparison. But Myuri, who held absolutely no interest in his preachings, did not seem to catch on right away. “Do you remember how we compacted the earth at the bathhouse?” he offered. “Yeah?” “We tie a large wooden mallet with rope, pull up the rope to lift it, and then let it drop, so that it can harden the earth.” Myuri’s eyes dropped from the sky to the ground, as though watching an imaginary mallet fall before her very eyes. She had a powerful imagination—she was probably seeing the earth jump from the impact, a cloud of dust filling the air. They had come all this way from Estatt through the mountain paths and over peaks. The sight of Wobern from that final peak was so strange and wondrous, it stole their words away. The city was surrounded by natural mountain walls and sat in a perfect bowl-shaped basin. Myuri held her breath and looked up at the sky. “Wait, so…do you mean that a huge pit formed here when a star fell from the sky?” Myuri blanched slightly because she had imagined just how much power was necessary for something like that to happen. When they flooded Ohlburg, the Town of Hope, she had cut away at the bank of the river in high spirits. In her mind, she had figured her claws were sharp and strong enough to easily change the flow of any river, no matter how big. But when she tried it, she had expended almost all her energy just making a dent in a moderately sized river. Nature was big and vast. And that meant the impact required to create a place like this was practically unfathomable. Myuri seemed to understand that in her bones. If this was the Moon-Hunting Bear’s doing, then there was truly nothing she could do to it, not even in her dreams. It was then that Ilenia spoke quietly. “Whether or not what Archivist Canaan said really happened…to be honest, I cannot say for certain. Miss Diana didn’t seem to know, either. But what we do know is there is at least one astronomer looking into this story.” When she said that Myuri gasped, as though released from her spell, but quickly drew her lips into a thin line. Perhaps she realized there was no way she could win against the Moon-Hunting Bear’s size and skill. In reality, the nonhumans who had been around in the time of the Moon-Hunting Bear sometimes saw it as a sort of natural disaster. They spoke of it with no resentment. It was simply a part of life. Col silently wished Myuri would learn to think of it in the same way as he turned to Ilenia and asked, “Then did the prince-elector hire the astronomer because of that legend?” “That’s not clear,” she replied. “Everyone in prison seemed to have no idea what the prince is thinking. And that might be the reason why they all suggest there’s a love affair. That’s much easier to understand.” On one hand, this felt like a myth in the making; on the other, it felt like awfully vulgar gossip. The incredible disparity made Col feel dizzy. “But one thing everyone seemed to agree on is this is not the time for the prince-elector to be doing as something as whimsical as hiring astronomers,” concluded Ilenia. “I heard his position is being challenged,” Col said. “It is. This city is home to the original mercenary king. Being a warrior is, above all, proof of his status as their ruler—showing any interest in the stars is something most people consider unsuitable for the role. Either way, it didn’t seem as though there was much else I could do here as a humble wool broker. That’s why I called on you, Twilight Cardinal. I was just talking about how I wanted to saddle the prince-elector with an obligation,” she said brazenly, and smiled. There was no doubt she knew that Myuri would quickly latch onto the matter if she brought up the Moon-Hunting Bear, and then her older brother would have no choice but to get involved. Her personality seemed as if it matched her hair—soft and gentle—but there was a very good reason why Eve hired and valued her. Col could never let his guard down around her, although it was in a wholly different sense from how he always had to keep an eye on Myuri. “Prince-Elector Duran may open up if he talks to you, Col.” It was Vadan who said priests were necessary in getting people to confess their secrets, but Col himself was not sure if this would go as well as they assumed. He was nervous, but they had already come this far. And now that Myuri knew the Moon-Hunting Bear might be involved, she was raring to go. Ilenia had gotten them to do exactly what she wanted, but Col knew winning an obligation from the prince-elector would increase the likelihood he would join their side in the fight against the Church. It was not as though he gained nothing from this. “Very well,” he replied, and set his mind to the task. After parting ways with Ilenia, they told Canaan the story they knew about the Moon-Hunting Bear. Most adults would roll their eyes at such fantastic tales, but Canaan was more like Myuri, if anything. He listened with curiosity, and when he heard it vanished beyond the edge of the western sea after causing unspeakable carnage, he gave a light gasp in surprise. Any kind of dreamer could easily picture the Moon-Hunting Bear heading for the new continent at the edge of the sea from that story alone. Though Myuri’s mood typically went dark whenever the Moon-Hunting Bear came up in conversation, she remained herself this time—that was to say, delighted by Canaan’s earnest reactions. Col would much rather she lose herself in fairy tales instead of letting her eyes darken with hatred. But afterward, Canaan began telling them strange stories about astronomers and the stars. And even when it grew late, Col had to peel Myuri away from Canaan as she asked to hear more. In the end, he had to blow out the candles, grab Myuri by the scruff of her neck, and ask Canaan to leave. The wolf pup whined for a little while after that, but she either eventually gave up or decided to think back on the new stories as she curled up under the covers and went quiet. She was so unruly. But Col reckoned she would be all right if the Moon-Hunting Bear came up in conversation again. Prince-Elector Duran had hired an astronomer, and that astronomer was following tales of the Moon-Hunting Bear. And following in the astronomer’s footsteps was a sheep and the daughter of a wolf. Col did not know what was waiting for them, and it would be a lie to say that all his anxieties were soothed. Myuri was a smart girl, so there was a chance she was deliberately putting on a cheerful face. But he did know that God was watching over them, and He would guide them. That is what Col told himself as he fell asleep. Col did not like to stand on ceremony. He thought things would be much simpler if he went to the prince-elector himself to ask about the astronomer, but Canaan stopped him. First, Canaan and Eve’s employees would act as messengers and go to Prince-Elector Duran’s palace as Col’s heralds to announce the arrival of the Twilight Cardinal. Col was clearly uncomfortable with the pomp and circumstance, but in an unusual twist, Canaan sighed at his attitude. “It is unthinkable that someone with proof of identity from Heir Hyland and a personal letter issued by the Archbishop of Estatt is traveling around without an entourage. He will assume you’re an imposter.” Col was also reminded the prince-elector was especially jumpy due to the kidnapping. That was how the Twilight Cardinal earned himself a scolding. Faith was invisible to the naked eye. Some rituals were important to assure others all was right and proper. Though Col had decided he was going to play the part of the Twilight Cardinal, there was still much he was unfamiliar and uncomfortable with. But the wolf pup, who would typically be very pleased with this whole scene and take the time to poke fun at him for it, was oddly quiet. After Canaan and the rest of the party herded Col and Myuri into their room and made their way to Prince-Elector Duran’s palace, Myuri started pacing around, poking at the holes in the walls the mice were using as entrances, then opening and closing the window shutters. Her mind was all over the place. “Calm down,” Col demanded. Myuri froze for a brief moment, but soon began to fidget again. The Moon-Hunting Bear may have once been in these mountains. And a star may have fallen from the sky, which might be related. It seemed Myuri’s little head was filled with all sorts of possibilities. That may have played a part as well—because once Canaan and the rest returned from a productive meeting with Prince-Elector Duran, she and Col argued over whether she should dress as the Saint of the Sun or as a knight for their audience with the prince-elector. She was oddly insistent on wearing her sword, so Col asked why. It seemed as though she had even considered the possibility Prince-Elector Duran was actually the Moon-Hunting Bear and he had quietly eliminated the astronomer when she learned of his secret. The superstitious always said to never respond to people who were sleep-talking, but Col had to wake her up somehow. “If the prince-elector really is the Moon-Hunting Bear, then Captain Vadan and Miss Ilenia would have found out by now.” That seemed to calm Myuri for a moment, but she still fidgeted by digging her fingers into the pouch of wheat given to her by the Wisewolf. Her present mood made Col somewhat uneasy—if they were to truly come across the Moon-Hunting Bear on their travels, what might happen? He wished Myuri would quickly grow up and calm down. As the thought crossed his mind, the girl in question suddenly froze in place, her ears and tail piqued. Not long afterward, a mouse crawled from one of the cracks in the wall and rushed to the table. “Are you ready to meet the prince-elector?” Vadan asked. As he spoke, Myuri unconsciously reached for her sword, but Col quickly stopped her. He then grabbed her by both shoulders and guided her, as though she were half-asleep and looking for the toilet, had her dress as the Saint of the Sun, then headed straight to the prince-elector’s palace. When they arrived at the palace, they reconvened with Canaan and the others, then made their way toward the center of the grounds. In the tightly packed city of Wobern, the palace grounds were exceptionally spacious. As they cut across the wide-open gardens, Col almost forgot for a brief moment they were in the middle of a treacherous mountain range. They walked down an old-fashioned colonnade and came to a stone building more dignified than its neighbors, one that looked much like an abbey. Standing at the entrance was an aging man flanked by soldiers. Judging from his clothes, he was a steward who served the prince-elector. His eyes turned to look at them in sharp evaluation—it was his job to preserve the dignity of the head of the household. Indeed, Col thought—had he wandered in here on his own, the best he could have hoped for was simply being sent away. Most nobles were not as lenient as Hyland. Myuri took on a cautious air beneath the steward’s condescending gaze, but Col pretended not to notice anything and offered his greetings. “My name is Tote Col, and I come here under the auspices of Heir Hyland of the Kingdom of Winfiel.” Col dipped his head politely, but the steward did not respond. After a slow count to four, he raised his head and added, “And if I may be so bold, I am sometimes called the Twilight Cardinal.” And he smiled. Eve had taught him how to do this, and so he had practiced it. Much like how Hyland had taught Myuri the etiquette she needed to act properly as a saint, Eve had taught him with much delight what he should do when he came across a high-handed noble. The steward’s mustache shuddered under his breath, and he turned on his heel. He finally glanced over his shoulder and looked at Col. “His Most Serene Highness will see you. I hope you understand what a great honor this is.” Col gave another brief dip of the head, and the steward went straight into the building. He glanced behind him to see Myuri with an unsure look in her eyes, unbefitting her role as saint. With a little smile, Col pinched her cheek, and she swatted away his hand in annoyance. The steward led them inside the palace—it felt less like the prince-elector’s lived-in manor house, and more like a real abbey. Furniture was sparse, making the building feel somewhat empty. Nor did they see any sign of maids or manservants busily rushing about to maintain the building. Of course, it was not as though the building was uncared for, but the overall mood of the palace made it seem as though they were just about to move out. The corridor was dim, typical for many older buildings, and they eventually came to another corridor with a red carpet running along the floor. That told Col this was a place where those of high status often came and went. At the end of the carpet was a door, in front of which stood two lightly armed guards. When they acknowledged the steward’s approach, one of them knocked softly on the door. Col could not hear anything from where he stood, but there was apparently some sort of response; the guards pushed open the door and the steward glanced at Col and the other visitors before he went inside. That was obviously a signal for them to follow, so Col passed between the guards’ pointed stares and into the room beyond. For a moment, he sensed noise behind him—Canaan’s bodyguard and Eve’s employees had been stopped at the door. Col nodded, convincing the armed guards to give up trying to force their way inside and to simply wait outside. Then, just as he turned his attention to the inside of the large room, he heard a voice he had not heard since yesterday. “Col.” At the end of the long table sat Ilenia, who had likely been called out from the prison. The steward who had guided them here proceeded to the far end of the room and stood beside a high-backed chair. “His Most Serene Highness will be arriving shortly.” At last, the far door swung open, and one man was led in by a guard. “You’re young.” That was the very first thing the prince-elector said as he took his seat. He was middle-aged, his face framed by thick, light brown hair and a beard. The prince-elector certainly looked like the head of a family whose status was won in battle. Col had heard from the townsfolk the prince was sickly, so he had pictured someone skinnier. This man was rather well built, if anything. But he also held a cane in his left hand, and he carried it in a way that suggested it was fully a part of his life, and not the consequence of something that had happened recently. “Your name?” the man asked. “I am Tote Col,” Col replied as he bowed his head. “Hmm…You’re quite different from how the rumors paint you. I’d heard you were the sort to walk barefoot through the mountains and preach to birds.” That image was perhaps more fitting than the real Col was for the revolutionary who was openly challenging the Church’s corruption. “Either way, I would say I’m just as good at betraying people’s expectations,” the prince-elector said wryly as he stood. He stuck his cane to the ground with much difficulty, perhaps a masochistic way of reminding himself that a daring and resolute mercenary king should not be using one. “Friegel, entertain our other guests,” he ordered the steward. He then turned to Col and said, “Come with me, Your Eminence.” The prince-elector jerked his chin toward the dulled glass of the window. Col was nervous for a brief second, wondering if he wanted to talk about something he did not want anyone else hearing. If he did, Col could not detect any outward signs of that on the man’s face. Col dipped his head in acknowledgement again. He then glanced over at Myuri, but his little knight did not seem particularly bothered by anything. Her imagination had been whispering that not only was the prince-elector possibly not human, but that he might be the Moon-Hunting Bear. Judging by her current behavior, it seemed he really was just human, after all. Of course, what Col really wanted to check was to see if the prince-elector harbored any ill will, but Myuri’s calm suggested they were not in any danger. Col followed him, proceeding through the door that connected the reception room to the courtyard. Once the prince-elector stepped outside, he looked up to the sky and squinted. “I hear the sky in the world below is a different color. What say you?” he asked, prompting Col to look up. “I believe this sky is much bluer here.” “We should be much closer to God’s throne here—if anyone can tell, it would be you.” “…Unfortunately, no.” Col was unsure what the purpose of the question was, but the truth was that no matter how much he read the scripture, no matter how much he prayed, he had not even seen the hems of God’s robes. That sentiment must have gotten across to the prince-elector—he broke into a fit of laughter, then stepped down onto the hardened earth of the courtyard. “For a little while after my leg stopped obeying me, I often looked to the sky, thinking I should give a word or two of complaint.” The prince-elector looked back and smiled. The bitterness in his smile stood out, perhaps because of all the hardship he had gone through. “To think He would only show me mercy now, after all this time.” “What makes you think that?” “You, of course, Twilight Cardinal.” The prince-elector faced forward again, slowly walking ahead as he stuck his cane into the ground. What looked like a fruit-bearing tree grew in the middle of the wide courtyard, bright green leaves growing from its branches. “The moment that wool broker girl spoke of you, I admit I was doubtful. But then God showed me a sign.” Col had a feeling, but he wondered if Vadan and his mice crew had acted out a little miracle. It would not be difficult at all to bring over the scripture to the prince-elector’s pillow while he slept. “And then the great man himself comes to me all the way from Estatt. You brought down an imposter in those lands with a miracle from God, no?” “It is true we had God’s protection.” Col was not sure how the story was spreading, so he left it at that. “Quite a humble thing for the bearer of divine punishment to say.” “……” Now Col really started to wonder how the story was spreading. He was certain all those bards Myuri loved were making things up as they went along to better fit their songs. But the way the prince-elector spoke suggested he knew that sort of rumor was not to be trusted. “How much of my circumstances do you know?” The next thing Col knew, they had reached the center of the courtyard. It was open, with nothing blocking their sight lines—perhaps this was also used as an equestrian ground. Four of the prince-elector’s guards stood around them, out of earshot but watching vigilantly. “I know an astronomer Your Most Serene Highness patronized has gone missing,” Col replied. He did not say kidnapped. The prince-elector seemed mildly irritated by that, and it came out as a sigh. “She was kidnapped. And I believe the Church is behind it.” He said exactly what Col had heard in town. From what he had gathered, the Church was not the leading culprit. More suspicious was the Duran branch family, which controlled mining interests. “Do you have proof of that?” Col knew very well the question he asked was rude, and Prince-Elector Duran turned a sharp eye to him. But his irritation was not the sort adults showed toward impudent children. “Of course. I know the local church frequently invites in outsiders. I cannot say how they managed to find out, but they must have realized her worth.” According to Canaan’s report, there was no movement to suggest any inquisitors were at play. But it seemed the prince-elector was rather certain an outsider was snooping around the tower. “Twilight Cardinal.” The prince-elector suddenly turned to Col. “The astronomer’s disappearance is a matter of deep regret for me. You may soon learn this if you are to ask around the city, but my authority hangs on by a thread.” His blue eyes seemed heavy and leaden. It was not normal for a prince-elector, who held as much power as most kings, to admit to a young stranger he had no authority to act. Prince-Elector Duran was standing on the precipice. “My father, my father’s father, and the father of all mercenary kings before them validated the name of House Duran by protecting this great city of Wobern and its people. But I have never been able to accomplish my duty due to my leg. The research my astronomer was conducting in secret is part of my final plan to reassert my authority.” The prince-elector slammed the edge of his cane into the dirt, hard enough to cause it to crack. Contained in that gesture was all his distress and his anger. But Col did not know where he was going with this. He said he would be taking back his authority with the astronomer’s research. But was that possible? Ilenia said the astronomer was chasing after tales of the Moon-Hunting Bear. That had nothing to do with the throne of Wobern. Was it possible the prince-elector was possessed by some sort of devil worship? Revering the Moon-Hunting Bear as a god, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was more than enough to draw the attention of Church inquisitors. “This is not my problem alone, either. This has much to do with you and your fight against the Church. And that is why I accepted the wool broker’s proposal.” “…It does?” This caught Col unawares, and he spoke without the formality he had been careful to uphold since the start of their conversation. But the prince-elector hardly noticed as he gripped the handle of his cane with incredible force. From what Col had gathered in town, once the prince-elector found out the scholar had gone missing, he panicked and began to throw anyone he saw as vaguely suspicious into prison. But then according to Vadan, despite all his wanton tyranny, he remained indecisive, asking all those he had captured vague and roundabout questions. The prince-elector was hiding something. Something he could not make public. “Lord Duran, what did you…?” What did he make the astronomer study? And did the astronomer find something? The prince-elector who descended from mercenary kings then said, “The astronomer said she was looking into the fairy tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear. But I knew right away—” He lowered his voice, as though turning his face away from the sun. “—that she was researching an eclipse.” The reason Col swallowed his words was not because he noticed how sunken the prince-elector’s downcast eyes looked. It was because he was not expecting that word to tumble from his mouth in the slightest. “Eclipse…? Did you say, eclipse?” A solar eclipse. Or perhaps, a lunar eclipse. It was a miraculous, heavenly phenomenon where the bodies in the sky would suddenly vanish, and the Church had recorded a number of these events. In that moment, it all connected with the Moon-Hunting Bear like a flash of lightning. What was the legend that lingered in these lands? The Moon-Hunting Bear hunted a star, and it fell. The Moon-Hunting Bear, and an eclipse that erased the stars from the sky. As Col struggled to find his words, the prince-elector raised his left hand over his head. The cane in his hand pointed to the sun above. “And I believe the astronomer solved God’s providence. Picture her prophesizing the day and time the sun would suddenly disappear from the sky—I would be able to reassert my authority and then some.” When Col remained silent, the prince-elector pointed his cane at him. He did so with a sharp, rage-filled gaze. “What if the Church were to obtain the date? They would have no better opportunity to take back the power that you trampled on. Because as protectors of the faith bestowed by divine providence, they would be prophesizing the very moment the sun disappears from the sky. The people would fear them, respect them, and bow at their feet.” He struck his cane to the ground again. “Twilight Cardinal, do you not see that you and I ride the same ship upon these troubled seas?” The prince-elector had bet everything on the miracle of forecasting the eclipse in order to regain the authority he was so close to losing. And so he had hired an astronomer and spent quite a bit of money to support her and her research. And that astronomer came very close to becoming the Sun-Hunting Prophet. It was under those circumstances that she was kidnapped. “We must take the astronomer back, no matter what it takes. If the date of the eclipse has already been extracted from her skull, then we will need to seize it for ourselves. If we fail…” With a trembling hand, the prince-elector grasped Col’s shoulder. “Then we will be doomed to wither in the shadows for eternity.” If the prince-elector lost his chance to take back his authority, then what would happen to the Twilight Cardinal? “The sun will vanish from the sky. It would be easy to paint that as an ill omen. The Church would turn to the panicking masses and say that God hid the sun because an enemy who calls himself the Twilight Cardinal has disrupted the order of the world. And everyone would believe them without question.” Those who could grasp heavenly bodies essentially held God’s power in their very own hands. The Moon-Hunting Bear became the destroyer of the ancient world with that power. And if the Church could demonstrate the stars darkened because the Twilight Cardinal had turned his back on God, then his reputation would fall to earth like one of those doomed stars. The prince-elector raised his cane again and lightly pressed the end into Col’s chest, as though to remind him. The dirt left a mark on his pitch-black habit. The stain seeped through him and into his heart, like a curse. “I expect much from you, Twilight Cardinal.” The sinking prince-elector had grabbed onto Col’s ankles. But even if Col kicked his hand away, there would still be no place for the Twilight Cardinal in a sunless sky. Myuri stretched toward the sky like a cat reaching for a butterfly it would never catch. Perhaps the first person to utter the expression, grasping at clouds, would be delighted. “So the sun’s going to disappear?” As Myuri attempted to grasp the sun in the sky, Canaan replied with an earnest expression. “Not just the sun—the moon disappears at times, too. It is a phenomenon occasionally observed throughout history, so there are plenty of records of it.” Books from history to the present, from all over the world, rested in the Holy See’s archives. But Canaan had only ever read about eclipses in books, so he still seemed rather skeptical. The nonhuman Ilenia might have seen one in her many years. While the thought crossed Col’s mind, Ilenia had claimed to be just a little older than Myuri, so he hesitated to openly ask while Canaan was present. “But she was a fortune-teller in the end,” Myuri dropped her gaze from the sky to stare pointedly at Col as she spoke. “Predicting an eclipse is not the same as telling a…Well, what do you think, Archivist Canaan?” His own confidence waned, so he turned to Canaan to ask. Canaan shrunk in on himself. “I am not certain of the strictest definition, either. The great Father Antoni of ancient times said thus about astrology: Twins are born under the same stars, and ultimately their fates should be dictated by the same stars, but there has never been any solid examples of such since antiquity. Therefore, star-telling is either blasphemous black magic, or nothing more than a lie…That said, I’ve never seen a text that criticizes predicting an eclipse.” This reassured Col there was a difference between astrology and astronomy, but it was Ilenia, who had been looking up at the sky with Myuri, who spoke up. “Anyone can predict the sun will rise in the east and set in the west, and you can predict what stars will appear in the night sky depending on the season, no? Predicting when the eclipse might happen by looking at the cracks in burnt deer bones would fall under fortune-telling, but when it is the result of studying the movement of the stars and calculating where they will end up, then that is not fortune-telling.” Ilenia spoke with a logical tone, and there was a force to her words that did not brook any arguments. The air about her was totally different when compared to Myuri, and Canaan was wholly charmed by it. When Ilenia smiled after her little speech, Canaan nodded, his cheeks flushed. “But we will have to make sure she was not burning deer bones.” Vadan and his crew had already looked over the astronomer’s living space, but they were not particularly knowledgeable when it came to things of faith. They would most certainly be able to tell if things like sulfur or charred bits of salamander were left behind, but they would likely not be able to tell if there were heretical writings on her bookshelf. And so Ilenia had used Myuri as leverage to bring the Twilight Cardinal here. There was one thing Col put together from her meticulousness. “Miss Ilenia.” “Yes?” “You knew the astronomer was trying to forecast the eclipse from the very beginning, didn’t you?” When he asked, she gave a smile like any of Eve’s conspirators might. “I had an inkling at best. Diana suggested the possibility.” Though she said this with a friendly smile, Col had a feeling she had been all but certain. If the astronomer was looking to predict the eclipse, then there were very, very few people the prince-elector could look to for help. Because if the eclipse were predictable, then anyone in power would want to be a prophet. Even if the prince-elector did ask for help, it would not be easy to keep the other person from stealing the initiative. On top of that, the prince-elector was struggling politically, and he was unable to leave his territory without great hardship due to his bad leg. Anyone could see that if he were to collaborate with someone, his supposed partner could easily steal the credit. However, there was one person who he could reasonably work with. That was the Twilight Cardinal, the one challenging the Church’s authority. Unlike others in power, the Twilight Cardinal would be put in a difficult position if the Church predicted the eclipse first. Plus, he did not have conflicting interests as a secular leader. That was why Ilenia believed the prince-elector could fight alongside the Twilight Cardinal. “I can’t believe he asked for a hostage after asking for your help, though,” Myuri complained, after giving up on grasping the sun with her own hands. The prince-elector had placed his bets on the Twilight Cardinal, but he was not unconditionally trusting him. Far from it. Anyone could become a prophet if they managed to figure out the day of the eclipse. That was why he demanded collateral. Col understood his feelings and knew there really was no other choice. However, Ilenia lacked in weight of character, which led the prince-elector to demand someone else, and Myuri was quite cross with the prospect. “I would gladly take on that role,” Canaan interjected. “Throwing myself in jail is nothing if it is for your sake, Master Col.” A spirit of service was rooted in the Church’s most fundamental teachings. Canaan placed his hand to his chest and spoke of this proudly. Myuri looked like she wanted to say something, but she had trouble putting her feelings into words. She moved her lips, irritated, then folded her arms across her chest. It likely came from a place of gratitude, that Canaan was volunteering to take on the most disadvantageous role, but also a place akin to jealousy because of how proud he was to sacrifice himself for the Twilight Cardinal’s sake. In all her favorite hero stories, scenes like these were always penned for the most exciting events. “I can guarantee the prison is comfortable,” Ilenia said, which helped soothe Col’s nerves since she had actually been inside. And Vadan’s crew of mice would be keeping an eye on him, so he could get out if there was any danger. And yet Col still felt a bit guilty. “But…are you sure, Archivist Canaan?” he asked. “Of course I am. I will leave the search for the astronomer to the rest of you. If anyone must sit in prison, then I would say I am perfectly suited for the role—I lived in those prisonlike archives, after all,” Canaan said with a smile. Col could not let his devotion go to waste. “Then I thank you, truly. We’ll make sure you’re not there for very long.” If this were the Col who still lived in Nyohhira, he would have been paralyzed with worry about Canaan’s safety. Instead, he accepted this turn of events and firmly grasped Canaan’s hand with both of his own. Col had decided to fight against a problem that could not be won on his own, so it was times like these he had to rely on his allies. As Canaan grasped Col’s hands in turn, he began to chuckle sheepishly. “I imagine people will begin to pen hagiographies of you before long. I believe this would be the scene where I get to shine.” Canaan must have said this to ease Col’s worries, but Col got the sense that Canaan was not entirely kidding. In contrast to his serious exterior, Canaan had a reckless streak, one that led him to travel on foot to the distant Kingdom of Winfiel in order to fight against the Church. And the reason he got on so well with Myuri was because they were both dreamers. “Brother! We need to find the fortune-teller soon, so Canaan doesn’t wind up in any danger!” Myuri, frustrated the best role had been taken from her, shouted boldly to reassert her presence, and Ilenia laughed. Though he was astonished the wolf girl could be so carefree, he still believed this was the best thing for her. “Of course we will. We will do everything in our power to find her.” When Col said that, all eyes turned to him. If he was sure of one thing, it was that he had very reliable people on his side. All Col had done was shake hands with the prince-elector. It was less proof of trust and more symbolic than anything. Even though the young man people called the Twilight Cardinal had a certificate from the Kingdom of Winfiel, and a personal letter from the archbishop of Estatt, he was still an enigmatic individual. However, the prince-elector had placed his bets on him. Even though he had no one else to rely on and had little choice in the matter, his decisiveness was not normal. Col had a feeling he was, at his core, a fearless and dauntless person. He was sickly as a child but took up horse riding in his eagerness to make up for that—however, he fell from the horse and hurt his leg. Had luck been on his side, then maybe he could have been a mercenary king greater than anything Myuri would have dreamed of, one who let his name roar through the Wobern lands. But God did not smile equally on all and was occasionally cruel. Yet people had no choice but to continue to struggle, and Col, at least, wanted justice to prevail. “Now nothing’s holding us back,” Myuri said once they had dropped off Canaan and his bodyguard at the jail. She said this so naturally Col’s expression clouded. With Canaan and his bodyguard in jail, Myuri and the others could use all their might as nonhumans without worrying about the eyes of others. But Canaan was not being driven off like a nuisance for that purpose alone. “Myuri, you need to thank Archivist Canaan for his self-sacrifice.” “Okay, then I could’ve gone in jail, though? I could’ve been like the princess you save at the end of the story. That wouldn’t be so bad!” Col believed those scenes came about precisely because he would have an admirable princess to save, and he knew this wild child would absolutely get restless on her second day of confinement. Her attitude was already pointed toward adventure—she was kicking her feet out from the hem of her robes as she walked, completely forgetting to act like a proper young girl. He could feel his head beginning to hurt as he wondered where to begin scolding her, but there was one thing he knew for certain. “You are a knight. You will be the one to rescue the trapped astronomer.” “……” Myuri’s gaze slinked away, and she shrugged. “I guess that’s fine, too.” Ilenia chuckled, and Col could feel that headache coming on as he wondered if his little sister understood the importance of things. Astonished by the lively mood, Vadan interjected, “Sorry to interrupt while you’re having fun, but that’s the tower where the astronomer was.” Now that Canaan was imprisoned as promised, Col and the rest of them went to investigate the place where the astronomer observed the stars. There were several public facilities on the prince-elector’s manor grounds, and the tower was apparently once used as a watchtower. As they cut across the wide lawn of the grounds, the whole thing came into view. “So the astronomer was taken from here without anyone noticing?” Myuri asked. The tower stood apart from the other buildings, and there was a clear view of the entrance from all around. It fell within the sight lines of the guards standing on the nearby castle walls as well, which meant it would take quite a lot of effort to kidnap someone from this building. “You guys already looked around the tower, right?” Myuri asked Vadan. “Just a little,” he replied. “All we really found out was that it wasn’t a bloodbath inside.” A wicked grin crossed Myuri’s face, but Col shivered at the thought. “Either way, I’ll figure this out,” Myuri said. Along with the key the prince-elector had given them, she fished out the little pouch of wheat from inside her shirt. While the Wisewolf’s size was certainly exceptional, Myuri was also much bigger than a regular wolf when she transformed. It felt especially noticeable when they were inside the building, and the way she bounded up the spiral steps perfectly matched the look on her face. “All I smell are the same things. Metal and oil, which is probably from the craftsmen who’ve been visiting. And then…the odor of rye bread and onion is really strong in here. She must’ve liked the stuff.” “Perhaps she was skipping sleep and meals to study,” Col remarked. Myuri swished her large tail dramatically to the left, and then to the right, as though saying that was too bad, because there was nothing more delightful than eating good food. “It doesn’t smell like blood. Or like there’s been a fight, either.” According to her, a person’s powerful emotions manifested as smells. “Do you mean the scholar was not taken against her will?” “Not sure. I read a story at Miss Diana’s place about a flower that can put people to sleep.” “……” If it really were the Church that orchestrated this kidnapping, would they have looked to an alchemist for help? No—was there a chance they could have simply hired someone who specialized in ruffian business? As those thoughts passed through Col’s mind, Ilenia spoke up somewhere behind him. “In any case, if drugs were used, then there would be traces of it.” “You are right,” Col replied. “Myuri.” “What?” “Be sure not to spend too long sniffing things, even if it smells nice. I cannot carry you to bed in that form.” Myuri’s present weight was more than double Col’s. She paused, and then thwacked Col across the face with her tail. “Doesn’t seem like the scholar was one of us, does it?” Vadan asked, a number of his fellow mice at his feet. “No,” Myuri replied, her large, pointy ears turning every which way. “Doesn’t smell like it here. It doesn’t smell like goat’s blood, either.” That meant there were no devil-worshipping rituals, at least. “So…,” Col trailed. That greatly narrowed down the possibilities. That said, he believed it a bit too early to come to a conclusion, and the stairs were tough on him; his ragged breaths made it hard to think. Just about when he thought Myuri might start laughing at him, they finally reached the top of the tower. “This is both storage and her living space. The room above this one is for observation.” As Vadan threw open the windows, light flooded the room and revealed the interior—or more precisely, the state of the room. “This bed is meant for one person,” Col remarked. “I suppose she did not have an assistant.” He felt a strong affinity for the way the room was simply stuffed with things. The bed was unkempt and dirty, and it easily could have been from cheap lodgings or used as a nap spot for guards on watch duty. Myuri audibly sniffed it, then sneezed loudly. “It smells the same as the one in our room. Like Brother when he borrows a new book,” Myuri said as she stuck her nose under Col’s arm to sniff. “It seems our scholar gets just as lost in her studies as you do,” Ilenia said as she looked to the corners of the room. Col looked in the same direction as he dodged Myuri’s requests for attention to see some of Vadan’s fellow mice scurrying around the pile of discarded onion skins. “Ah, yes. This reminds me of when I would eat raw onions to stave off drowsiness while I read the scripture,” he said. “Wasn’t that recently, though?” Myuri’s nose nudged at his back and he stumbled forward. “How’s it look in the bookshelf? We can’t really tell what’s in there.” Some books were barely being held closed by clasps—either the quality of the paper was too poor, or the book had been read so much the pages had swollen—while others seemed to be considered a lost cause and lay open on the shelves like blooming flowers. Col took several from their places to glance at them; since all of them had to do with heavenly bodies, a few were idealistic pieces by theologians and ancient philosophers. “Many of these are very well-known. I even see names of priests that I know,” Col reported. “What is this?” There was a booklet that was just a bundle of parchment kept together—no binding at all. It was written in the language of the desert, so Col could not read it. “Regarding space. The heaven’s breath and blessings. The goddess of the moon and the tides of the sea,” Vadan said. It sounded like a list of titles. He was a sailor, of course—he could read a bit of the desert script. “Our only choice would be to ask Mister Le Roi or Archivist Canaan if those are pagan writings. They do not seem to be at a glance, however.” “Shall I write them down for now?” Ilenia offered. She reached out to the desk, which seemed like someone had just been working at it moments earlier, to grab an aged quill pen and an inkpot caked with dried ink. “Myuri, are there any hidden cupboards anywhere?” Myuri, who had sat to scratch at her neck with her hind paws, piqued her ears. She began to sniff at the floor, and the mice began to chase after her. It was an oddly idyllic sight. “Mmm…Doesn’t seem like it.” “Then shall we move upstairs?” Vadan nodded and began climbing the stairs. “Goodness…,” Col murmured in spite of himself when he peeked up from the floor at the top of the stairs. “This is what it’d look like if you built an entire water mill out of metal, isn’t it?” Vadan remarked. Impressed by the comparison, Col climbed to the top of the stairs. Fixed in the room was an enormous half-disk, taller than Col. Parts that looked like a titan-size bow and arrow were attached to the disk. Surrounding that was a spherical, complicated-looking, latticework structure. “Not sure how you’re supposed to use it, but I think that big needle points at where the stars are in the sky, and then you write down the numbers carved onto the disk,” Vadan mused. “We use something similar at sea to see where the stars are. But this one’s way bigger.” “This must have been quite expensive,” Ilenia said as she arrived upstairs, finished with writing down the titles of the books downstairs. “Ugh, it smells a lot like metal and oil down here.” Myuri poked her nose up from behind Ilenia, then gave another big sneeze. The device was so big only a few people could fit in the room, so Ilenia and Myuri immediately returned to the lower floor. The space opened up a little bit when Vadan opened the few windows in the room, but it was still tight. And the device was not the only reason it felt so cramped. “This must be a star map,” Vadan murmured, impressed. Pictures of the heavens, so minute they could have been drawn by an illuminator, fully covered one wall. There, heavenly bodies that even a layman like Col knew of—the sun, the moon, the stars visible at dawn and dusk, and stars that closely followed the moon—were depicted, but there were also illustrated movements of stars he had no idea even existed. How much tenacity would one need to follow the movements of all these stars? Even though the visible stars in the sky changed with each season, they often were in very different positions depending on exactly when someone chose to look at the sky, but it was hard to tell if there would be any difference at all if one were to watch them every single day. But it was an astronomer’s purpose to follow those very slow and gradual movements tirelessly, relentlessly, and with the utmost precision. Col found himself standing straighter as he considered just how dedicated astronomers had to be in their quest to study the laws that governed God’s creation. It struck him as very similar to what theologians pursued, even if they did so in a completely different manner. And once he had gotten a glimpse of such a great accomplishment, a question crossed his mind. “I wonder what the astronomer is doing with her observations?” he wondered aloud. “Hmm?” He looked around the room with the device, and while he saw tools for repairing and adjusting the mechanism, he did not find the one thing he was looking for. If one were to watch the movements of the stars every night, then wouldn’t they have something to record their observations with? He wondered if it was still with the things downstairs—as he turned, Myuri’s voice came from below. “Brother!” Col exchanged a glance with Vadan before venturing down the stairs, where they found Myuri and Ilenia standing before a shelf where the books were particularly in disarray. “Col.” Ilenia pointed to the shelf. Myuri drew her nose close, then drew it back, all while sniffing. “What is it?” Col asked. Myuri twisted her head around to look at him. “The books look like they’ve been arranged this way on purpose.” “What?” “On careful inspection,” Ilenia replied. “The traces of dust are a bit strange.” She lifted a few books and began holding them at various angles, letting the light from the windows hit them in different ways. Col liked his books, and he had visited plenty of large libraries in his travels. Because of that, he knew there were too many books in the world to read all of them. For dust to collect on a bookshelf was as much of a given as snow falling in winter. But for there to be dust beneath a book was proof the book had been placed there deliberately. “If we put these back like so…,” Ilenia trailed as she busily returned the scattered books to their spots. When she added the books on the worktable, it became obvious. “Some seem to be missing.” Every book was big, and even if only a few volumes were missing, their absence was apparent. “I think…” Col felt a terrible affinity for the owner of this room. He knew anyone who owned this many books would want to keep their bookcases full. “Which means…,” he murmured, and Ilenia sighed. “The scholar may have left of her own free will.” Myuri sat, placed her front paws together neatly, and yawned. There were no signs of a struggle, there were only so many people who could have come and gone, and the books had been deliberately arranged to hide that some were missing. She must have taken all the books she could carry and had absolutely needed. Like, for example, the records of the movements of the stars. “It’s not unthinkable an intruder attempted to calculate the eclipse date after the scholar refused to give up any information, but that does not line up with the lack of a struggle. In that case, they may have wanted the astronomer to continue her research in the future.” Col sighed in response to Ilenia’s hypothesis. “The astronomer may have decided to switch sides when she realized how precarious a position Prince-Elector Duran was in. But…” When his gaze drifted to the ceiling, Ilenia seemed to understand what he meant. “That’s right. The device upstairs clearly tells us that stargazing equipment is very expensive. I have also heard that stargazing equipment is always deliberately placed at the top of tall buildings so the lights of the city don’t blot out the stars. Even if she managed to secure a well-appointed facility, it would not be easy to find a new patron. If she betrayed the prince-elector, it would have to be with incredibly favorable conditions.” Alchemists had several options when it came to securing research funding—there were always some nobles who wanted to buy dubious products, or they could pretend to be doctors, or appraise ore for merchant companies, among other things. Astronomers were different. They could only produce results after a dizzyingly long time of observation, and from what Col had heard, it was still extremely rare for an astronomer to make significant findings in their lifetime. Even though the fields of agriculture and seafaring valued their research, it was hard to think they believed these kinds of scholars were worth the money. And so those that offered support for astronomers were either those who were willing to bet everything, like Prince-Elector Duran, or wealthy and eccentric nobles. Otherwise… “The prince-elector may have considered the Church suspicious to begin with.” There were very few people who could put together equipment and funds on this scale. Even if there was a member of the branch family who was after the prince-elector seat and wanted to poach the astronomer, they would be found out rather quickly. But there was exactly one organization where an extra astronomer could appear, and no one would notice. That was the Church. All Col had to do was think back on how resplendent the cathedral at Estatt was—churches always came with tall towers, and the best place to hide a tree was in the forest. Or rather, the best place to hide an astronomer was in a forest of towers. “What should we do?” Ilenia asked, and Vadan and Myuri turned to look at Col. If the astronomer had been forced from her tower, then there were still ways they could search for her. If the culprits used force, as in a kidnapping, then it would have been very difficult to carry out the plan with small numbers and keep everything quiet. Outsiders stood out terribly, especially in a land like this, surrounded by mountains with few paths leading outside. No ruffians could carry out a crime without the help of a local. But if the scholar left of her own will, then the situation changed dramatically. She would have enough time and energy to erase evidence, and she could even come up with a plan that would not leave any evidence in the first place. She only needed the smallest number of people to help her carry out her plan. And upon leaving the tower and Wobern, she could hide in places no one would think to look, and then have others quietly carry her out. On top of that, even if the Church were the ones to lead her away, she would then not be lacking in places to go. If that was the case, their lead was as good as gone. Myuri’s front legs pawed at the ground, and Ilenia’s eyes were settled on the floor, her hand at her chin. Col, however, did not panic. He felt strangely at home in this room. It was filled with the unique air of someone who would get so engrossed in whatever they were doing, they often forgot to eat and sleep. And Ilenia and Myuri had noticed the bookshelf. He felt a sort of bitterness at the carelessness the astronomer exhibited by forgetting about the dust, and at the same time, sympathy welled up inside him. She was supposed to be vanishing into thin air, yet she could not help but bring her books with her. So he placed himself in the shoes of an astronomer packing her things, ready to run away, and when he looked around the observation room, he felt like he could almost see the look on her face. And that meant there were still leads they could follow. Col turned his attention to the piece of paper on which Ilenia had written the titles of the books on the bookshelves. “We still have a clue. Captain Vadan.” “Hmm?” “Please take what Miss Ilenia has written down to Archivist Canaan. Ask him if there are any particular titles here that a scholar might want.” “Oh, uh…Sure…” “Myuri.” “Huh?” Myuri, who had been playing with the mice, lifted her head. “Check to see if Miss Sharon’s birds have arrived in the city,” Col said. “And…if they have, then while I understand they must be tired, we must ask them to fly again.” Along with Hyland’s letter had come a complaint from Sharon they had been working her birds too hard. But now was the time for them to demonstrate their true value. “Sure, but fly where?” Col recalled their meeting just before leaving Estatt. There had been an extraordinary bookseller who loved his books. “To Mister Le Roi.” If the astronomer had been kidnapped, then traces of the event would have remained in the room. But if she quietly left of her own will, then she could erase that evidence. Was this where they were to give up? Not at all. Because there would be traces of her leaving of her own accord, too. Col felt like he knew the owner of the room just by looking at the state it was in. He was fairly certain he knew what she had been thinking. “Brother?” Three days had passed since they searched the tower. It was just after noon. They had received permission from the prince-elector to take some books about heavenly bodies from the tower, and Col was reading them in their room at the inn when Myuri called to him. “It’s here.” Sitting on the windowsill was a lone pigeon, flapping its wings with uncertain eyes, and beside it was Myuri, holding a letter in her hands. The pigeon’s normally expressionless eyes seemed to emit an even colder, quiet fury than usual. Myuri had tied a bit of fur from her tail to the pigeon to protect it from the rampant birds of prey in the mountain skies, but it was still a dangerous journey. Col felt bad as he unfolded the letter. “What does Mister Le Roi say?” Myuri asked. They were using Canaan’s knowledge and Le Roi’s connections as a bookseller. There was also the fact very few people read books in the world, which was something Myuri always enjoyed pointing out to poke fun at Col’s bookishness. Given everything they knew, it was possible to narrow down the otherwise infinite paths the scholar might have taken. “It appears I was right,” Col replied. Myuri’s ears piqued and she leaned in closer to look at the letter, doubtful. “Get ready to travel,” he continued. “Call for Miss Ilenia. We’ll be asking permission from the prince-elector to travel.” “……” Myuri snatched the letter from his hands and stared at the writing on the page. All that was written there was the word Ahberg. After leaving Estatt, Le Roi would not be taking the shortest route to Wobern. Instead, he would be taking one that stretched a bit longer, along the sea. While part of the reason was because of his uncertainty about braving the mountain roads, there was another reason. One could clearly tell from the map the river flowing from Wobern eventually flowed to the port city of Ahberg, which sat at the mouth of the river. According to the continental merchants Eve spoke to, the remote Wobern relied heavily on the city at the mouth of the river for their trade. Wobern’s primary products were heavy and bulky—lumber and metalwork—so they had no choice but to rely on water routes, not land routes. And so Le Roi chose to travel via Ahberg. If an astronomer stationed in the remote Wobern wanted rare goods such as books, she absolutely had to go through the port town. In short, if a special book had been sold in Ahberg, then there was very little doubt it was the astronomer who purchased it, and they would be able to tell whether the one at the top of the tower was an astrologer or an astronomer based on the type of book. And they could apply that knowledge to other uses, too. If the astronomer in question had been respectfully transported from Wobern for her knowledge and services (and not by force), then it was very likely she would make a certain request once she arrived at the bustling city markets. “It seemed some books had been sold in Ahberg after the astronomer’s disappearance.” Myuri looked at him doubtfully. “If the scholar was staying in the lively port city, then she would undoubtedly want to purchase some books. I doubt she was able to bring all the books she liked with her, you see.” Her eyes widened in surprise, and Col continued. “If you were to run away from home, I think the first place I would look would be either the butchers’ or an apothecary in a big city.” Honey and sugar were valuable sweeteners sold by apothecaries. A wolf pup off the leash of her nagging older brother would, without a doubt, go there. Myuri puffed out her cheeks and shoved the letter in her hand onto Col’s chest. “Just get ready to go!” she said, and then muttered under her breath, “I have to be careful…” But Col pretended not to hear. They met with Prince-Elector Duran, and once Col explained they had deduced the astronomer’s movements based on the book trade in Ahberg, the prince-elector hummed and fell silent. But it was not a sound of regret having not thought of it himself; it almost seemed as though he was attempting to mask his delight in that his bet on the Twilight Cardinal was paying off. He gladly approved their request to momentarily leave Wobern to continue their search. “Let me give you this as your travel allowance. This should be of help for whatever you need.” He handed them a bag stuffed with silver coins and a document that stated House Duran guaranteed their free passage. Local landowning nobles set up checkpoints along the river flowing from Wobern, acting increasingly despotic as Prince-Elector Duran’s authority waned. Even so, the documents should serve as a reliable way to stay out of trouble. Col was grateful for the consideration, but that the prince-elector believed such a thing would be necessary at all only highlighted how precarious his position was. And regular merchants, who were not granted the same privileges, were taxed every time they passed through a checkpoint, which harmed their business and subsequently drove prices up throughout Wobern, making life all the more difficult for the townsfolk. As anger and resentment grew, it was all directed at Prince-Elector Duran, who was unable to rein in the thieving nobles who preyed on anyone traveling along the river. This continued to erode his already dwindling authority and gave those nobles even more opportunity to make even greater demands… The prince-elector was caught in a vicious spiral. “I feel bad for him,” Myuri said as they clambered onto one of the boats in the city canal, clad once again in traveling clothes. “The people themselves could be perfectly capable, but land dwellers are way too caught up in mainland affairs and stuff. The sea’s way more comfortable and freeing. Mountains are nothin’ to write home about,” Vadan grumbled. Mice were chased by cats and dogs and hated by humans in the cities, so traveling the vast seas on their castle of a ship meant they could enjoy the air of freedom to their heart’s content. Vadan seemed fully fed up with life in the mountains and seemed eager to return to his old haunts on the sea. “But a ship’s basically the same thing,” Myuri said. “The wind blows you around, and you get chased onto rocks, and big waves just flip the thing over. Did you forget you got beached and you couldn’t get yourself out?” Myuri was not defending Prince-Elector Duran. She was simply barking back as a girl born in the mountains. Vadan’s mouth folded in a pout, but the mice who had become friends with Myuri sat on her lap, amused their boss had been argued into a corner. “Also, Brother, how long is it gonna take to get to Ahberg?” “I’ve heard we’ll have to walk partway down the river due to unfavorable conditions, so…with that in mind, I believe it should take us about three days.” “That’s not far. I wish we could have a little more of an adventure instead,” Myuri mused absently. Vadan and Ilenia, who had traveled to Wobern from Ahberg along the river, smiled as though they knew something she did not. Myuri stared at them blankly at first, but it would not be long before she learned why. “Aaa-choo!” Places where roads crossed rivers eventually gave birth to little post towns—ferries came and went, inns popped up targeting stranded travelers. Sitting at the fire in one such inn, Col gave a loud sneeze. He felt as though he had been sneezing nonstop since leaving Estatt. “The river’s not gonna be like that tomorrow, is it?” Myuri was in a state of partial undress to dry her clothes, and despite how disheveled the fur on her tail was, she had a bright smile on her face. They had descended the river on its furious rapids, everyone had gotten soaked, and Myuri had almost fallen off, yet she still cackled and used an idiom she had just learned—“So this is what they mean by looking like a drowned rat!”—much to Vadan and the other mice’s displeasure. Col was very much the opposite—their wild journey did not make him feel alive. The snowmelt was freezing cold, and he could have easily lost his life if he had fallen from the boat. They had chosen speed over safety, and now he understood why the boatmen had grinned so boldly when they asked to go as fast as possible. Since they had an allowance from the prince-elector, they splurged on the inn and secured a room with a large fireplace. Once the fire had grown, Ilenia, who had been wringing out her hair outside, returned to the room. Even the sheep girl, who rarely flinched in the face of anything, seemed rather annoyed. “I came here on foot, and when I did, I had gotten the impression going downstream would be rough, but I did not think it would be that rough…” “It was fun, though!” When Myuri offered her a carefree smile, Ilenia returned it with a tired one of her own. “I guess a stormy sea’s way worse. The water was…kinda cold.” Vadan tried not to show how much it had affected him as he held his hands over the fire, and Myuri snorted. “Brother and I jumped into a sea that actually had ice on it before. Remember?” “Yes…I genuinely thought I was going to die then.” To be more precise, Myuri had jumped into the sea after Col had fallen from a ship. No matter how selfish she acted or how much she teased him, of all the reasons he could not heartlessly toss her tail aside, that was the one at the top of the list. “Man, you guys’ve been on a crazy trip,” Vadan remarked. “Eh, not really,” Myuri replied. The mice lined up in front of the fire like dried fish. Some even looked terrified. “Either way, the river’s gonna be a lot calmer tomorrow,” Vadan said. “You’re gonna be battling boredom, wolf girl.” “Ugh…That’s what I hate about boats.” If they were walking, she could run ahead, find herself a stick and swing it around, or pick some tree nuts and munch on them. But on a river boat she had no choice but to sit still, and tomorrow they would be spending their entire day on one. “You boasted about how you would be fine in prison, so I’m sure you’ll be all right,” Col said. He had been terrified while Myuri had been fully enjoying herself on the downstream rapids, and that light jab was simply payback. Then her still-damp tail thwacked him. “I can nap, so I don’t mind!” And where do you think you’ll be sleeping? Is what he wanted to ask, but he already knew the answer. Just as he thought, Myuri dozed off in his arms the next day, and he had to sit very still in a small boat for an entire day. Since they did not have anything that looked particularly like cargo, they did not run into any trouble at the checkpoints Col had been so worried about, and before long, they arrived safely at Ahberg. The first thing they did was head for the Ahberg harbor and meet up with the rest of Vadan’s crew, who had been waiting on their ship. They were the ones who had gotten their letter from Wobern and found Le Roi for them. They shared the details of the situation with one another, and then Col and the rest of their party made for Le Roi’s inn. Just moments after their happy reunion, Myuri insisted they barge right into a company that dealt in books, but Le Roi only lightly laughed. “Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve actually asked the city merchants about the trade of books here.” Col calmed the excited girl and listened to what he had to say. “The companies here understand book transaction records stand out. And so they will not give up that information easily, even if you knock on their doors and ask nicely. If anything, the moment we ask, they will immediately get the sense we’re following somebody.” Le Roi called himself a bookseller, but the air about him was a bit different from a regular merchant. Considering he often dealt in books that could not be spoken about in public, his qualities and demeanor made him seem more like an inquisitor or a hunter. “And so I found several visiting booksellers who had come to the city to sell their books and asked them.” Merchants had a powerful command over the world, sometimes only second to God. Their network reached every corner of the world. “They said the trade of books came to a sudden halt in the city sometime last month,” he said, and patted the books stacked in his inn room. It was as though he was comforting books that were sulking because no one was reading them. Like Eve, Le Roi would start trading whenever he had a moment, so his inn room was already filled with books and bundles of paper. “Does that mean the fortune-teller’s not here anymore?” Myuri asked. She scanned the pile of books, then picked one that was full of illustrations and placed it on her lap. “That’s likely. She may have stayed here for a little while, then traveled to another city. It’s unfortunate, because it sounded as though she was ordering books with quite the substance. She could have been an excellent customer.” “Mm.” Myuri opened the book, and inside were many colorful pictures of bizarre animals. It seemed to be a collection of fables from faraway places a long-distance merchant had heard on their travels. “But that’s not the end of the trail, is it?” Vadan spoke up. “Can’t we come up with a different reason to search the companies here? We got a special document from Prince-Elector Duran, so we could probably do it if we negotiate with the city council and tell them that, I dunno, Wobern suspects them of illegal trade or somethin’.” Vadan’s idea was a bit violent, typical of a sailor. And what was unsaid but still implied was he would have his mice take a look around, too. But Le Roi shook his head. “Unfortunately, the prince-elector has no authority here.” Myuri, who had been staring curiously at a picture of a strange animal that looked like it had noses for feet, looked up when he said that. “What do you mean?” “This is the end of the river that flows deep from the mountains of Wobern. The lumber and metalwork that comes downstream is then sent out all over the world from these ports. But in exchange, Wobern buys its wheat and wine from this city.” Le Roi spoke as though he were reciting a riddle. “I guess the one who provides food is going to be more powerful,” Myuri said. What she said was an obvious truth. No one could eat lumber or metal. They would have to procure what they lacked from elsewhere. “And what you’ve told me,” Le Roi continued, “is that we are dealing with a conflict surrounding the prediction of an eclipse. That’s when it came to me—the company in charge of trade in Ahberg is the Ruvik Alliance.” “What?!” Col exclaimed in surprise, and Myuri stared at him with wide eyes. “The Ruvik Alliance was the one sending money to my imposter,” he explained. “So it seems,” said Le Roi. “And I heard you made quite the fools of the alliance during that commotion in the northern islands. And on top of everything else, the Twilight Cardinal is hurting their luxury goods business. They must be doing whatever they can, wherever they can, to bring about the downfall of the Twilight Cardinal. What is happening now may be part of that plot.” While Le Roi seemed like he was enjoying himself, the dots seemed to finally connect for Myuri. “…So we do know exactly who took the fortune-teller away, then.” Her eyes told Col she wanted to crack down on them immediately. “But,” Le Roi said. “The Ruvik Alliance is like an octopus.” “An octopus?” Myuri was born in the mountains, and did not know what that creature was. Le Roi smiled and flipped through the pages of the book on her lap before landing on a page with a picture of a monster emerging from the sea, its tentacles reaching out to a ship to drag it underwater. “The Ruvik Alliance is an elusive entity,” he continued. “It is generally considered a league of cities, but their connections are much looser than that name may imply. In essence, a city itself may be hostile to the alliance, but the large companies in the city may be members of the alliance. Not only that, but they are less like a group with proper command, and…more like a gang of stray hounds that leap at food the moment they see it.” They were not allies, but a group of individuals who often shared the same interests. Myuri, however, being a wolf, did not seem pleased with the metaphor. “In any case, determining which company of the Ruvik Alliance kidnapped the astronomer would be very difficult.” There was a picture of an octopus strangling a ship with its many tentacles in the book Myuri had in her hands. They did not know which arm had taken the astronomer, and if they were to attack the wrong arm, then the entire octopus would vanish into the sea. That was what Le Roi was trying to say. “But we know that whatever company was buying the books has to be the culprit, right?” Myuri spoke with a defiant tone not because she was being stubborn, but because she knew she could find out—no, sniff out—which company was at fault. They also had Vadan and his crew of mice, who were most adept at sneaking into buildings. But Le Roi did not know any of this, so this must have been extra frustrating for Myuri. And the seasoned bookseller denied Myuri’s line of thought from a completely different angle. “In trade, it is not unusual to make purchases through a proxy. Especially so if one is concerned about others following their trail. Even if we know which company made the order, that will not tell us who the true client is.” Myuri literally gritted her teeth and fidgeted impatiently. “Urgh, then we should just do the same thing in another city!” she argued, and all the adults blinked. “It sounds like she left the city a long time ago, so if we look at the trade of books in another city, and then another city, then we’ll eventually stumble into her while she’s paying for a book!” Logically, it did make sense, but…with their doubts, everyone turned to look at Le Roi. He was the only one who had connections with booksellers all over the world. “That’s quite a difficult request.” He looked like an adult who had just been asked a profound question by a toddler. “If you don’t have enough people to search, then I know a way.” Myuri glanced at Vadan; Col began to sweat, wondering if she was about to blurt out the existence of nonhumans in her excitement. But instead— “There are a lot of bored nobles in the Kingdom of Winfiel. We could get them to help if we told them it was their punishment for kidnapping my brother.” There was a prince who was in line for the throne, but had very low chances of ever inheriting it, and his lackeys. He had his own fervent reasons for building a sinister force within the kingdom, but one thing led to another, and eventually he made up with Hyland. At this point, they could be counted among their allies. It was a realistic proposal in Myuri’s eyes, but after a moment of thought, Le Roi gave a word of warning. “The book trade is a bit different from the trade of wheat and cured meats.” “…How?” “It is, in general, a secretive trade. No one wants to make their transactions public.” “……” Myuri furrowed her brow and looked to Col. “Erm,” Col began. “Copies of the scripture, for example, are not a problem, but books on alchemy might attract the attention of the Church.” “Precisely,” Le Roi said. “Many books are also very expensive. And there are many people who want to get their hands on curios before anyone else can, so there are plenty of reasons why booksellers are quiet and discreet.” “But you found the books the fortune-teller bought right away, right?” she asked. Le Roi shrugged his broad shoulders. “Information on who bought what kind of book is considered tradable goods among booksellers. So I offered my own information as compensation, and collected information like that from outside booksellers.” “Oh…” Nothing was free between merchants. It seemed at first that Le Roi had simply gone around asking questions, but he was indeed paying for the information with something of equal value. Myuri had been talking as though they should be trying whatever came to mind, and it seemed she finally understood her own ignorance on the matter. Le Roi smiled, his eyes gentle, like a master studying an excited apprentice. “It is true there are many people who want to create an obligation of gratitude from me, since I am very well acquainted with the Twilight Cardinal’s movements. And so, Lady Myuri, I ask you to keep begging Master Col to thoroughly criticize the Church and write a book that will cause plenty of controversy.” Le Roi had asked Col many a time to write a book criticizing the Church, since he knew it would sell faster than hotcakes. Information on when such a book would be published would be very valuable merchandise indeed. After learning Le Roi had worked hard in his own way to track the astronomer, Myuri turned to glare at Col, as though completely taking Le Roi’s side. “Knowing she was definitely here but not knowing where she went is definitely annoying,” Vadan said, folding his arms over his chest. “Then shall we trust in God’s guidance and search through every nearby harbor city one after another?” Col suggested. Even if they were not willing to give up, what they could do now was limited. “If the astronomer happens to be in town, then those townsfolk may have noticed. That counts for the book trade, and she may be observing the heavens again somewhere.” “You are correct,” Ilenia agreed. “What towns have tall towers…narrows it down, and if we look for towers whose tops are occasionally lit, then that narrows it down further.” Myuri continued. “And if she’s wandering around like Brother does, then she’d definitely stand out!” Col could picture it, too. “And books are super heavy, so if she’s like my brother, then they’d really weigh her down, right? So we could ask the guys who load ships or load carts at the harbor, and we might find her right away. It’s probably not every day someone’s loading a whole bunch of books.” Col pictured a certain kind of scholar in his mind: clad in threadbare robes, face unhealthily damp with sweat, cradling books that were more valuable than her life. “Well? You know a lot about ports, right?” Myuri’s attention was on Vadan the sailor. “I wanna agree, but it’s not like this astronomer escaped the prince-elector on her own, right?” he said. “She clearly has some kind of backing that’s payin’ for her stuff and takin’ her somewhere. So even if she can hold all her books herself, she definitely brought more than her precious star records, right? She could just pretend the rest is regular cargo. And tryin’ to find what you’re lookin’ for out of regular cargo, well…You know how tough that is.” Vadan was looking at Ilenia, the wool broker. Ilenia’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she offered Myuri an apologetic smile. “An unbelievable number of items are traded every day in the city. And occasionally, things said to be bags of wool may contain something more.” When she said that, Vadan stuck out his lower lip, and Le Roi gave a knowing smile. Vexed, Myuri folded her arms and said, “Contraband.” Though her voice was somewhat emphatic, she stumbled a little over the word. She had probably only learned it recently. Either way, the only one who could know everything that was hidden in unexpected places was an omniscient god. “So…we can’t track her down anymore?” Myuri let her arms drop. The captain of the smuggling ship aside, neither of the other two adults in the room replied with a favorable answer. They had likely hidden their own fair share of goods, and they knew firsthand how difficult it was to expose things that had been hidden. While Col did think her nose was capable, it would still be impossible to find out anything useful from the astronomical number of ships and carts at any port. Even if they were to attempt this, they would need many more people. And in some cases, what they were looking for might be cleverly hidden, so they would need to consider all the possible smuggling tricks. Sending capable individuals out to every harbor and town to find everything the astronomer might be looking to purchase was simply too tall a task. It simply was not possible. Those who had the necessary skills were often placed in very valuable roles—and that was where Col’s thoughts came to a sudden halt. “Oh.” He did not mean to speak aloud. They did know someone like that. Every person in the world had their natural enemies. And in this case, what they were dealing with was a little different than typical smuggling. And that meant they still had ways of tracking an astronomer who left this town with most of its books toward new ground. “Even if she had hidden her things in order to cover her trail, that may be something she has only done upon leaving the city,” he murmured, as though speaking to himself, and the other four turned to look at him. “And anyone who wants to hide contraband would have to be very careful, unless they want it to be found right away.” This time, everyone looked at Vadan, and he replied with a scowl. “So what? You saying there might be some kinda special clue in smugglin’ books? But then shouldn’t you ask the bookkeep over there and not me?” Vadan jerked his thumb toward Le Roi. “No, that isn’t what I mean,” Col rearranged his thoughts and tried again. “I believe she hides the trade of her books to shake anyone who might be following her from Wobern. And that means we can assume she isn’t doing it to make money, meaning she only keeps it a secret when she’s leaving this port town. No?” Vadan looked dubiously at Col, unable to see where he was going. “If the smuggled books are exposed when the astronomer arrives at a new town, then that would draw undue attention to herself. I doubt she would want to expose herself to that kind of risk while trying to avoid attention,” Col continued. “Yeah…That would be a hassle for her. A lord could put her to trial, depending on the value. But so what?” “That means we do have a way to find out what city she brought her books to.” It was not just Vadan who looked at him with a grim expression—Myuri did, too. They still had the problem of numbers—they would somehow have to search all the towns, numbers of which rivaled the stars in the sky. Even if they got Heir Klevend and all of his followers to help, it would take an unbelievably long time. But so long as the astronomer and her group were not genuinely attempting to smuggle books, there was a way to overcome that problem. “Books are generally expensive, and every town or port is more than eager to levy taxes on them, to the point that Prince-Elector Duran prepared special documents for us when we left Wobern. Which means—” “Oh! I know!” Myuri exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up a moment later. “Brother, do you mean—” He nodded emphatically when he saw the exaggerated frown on her face. An astronomical number of people and things moved through harbor towns, and it was almost impossible to find one specific person or thing once they managed to blend in. And so there were times people would deliberately hide other people or things just because of that. But it was possible for someone to hide their head and still leave the rest of themself exposed—some might even say they were leaving their rumps out for a wolf to bite into. Even if goods were not thoroughly checked upon leaving town, things brought into town were meticulously inspected. And that meant there were those who could expose even hidden items. Especially if they were things with value, like books. “Customs. Tax collectors.” When Col said that, both Vadan and Ilenia’s mouths hung open. “Books are expensive, so if she is properly paying tariffs, then that will remain in town records, or perhaps in the shared memories of tax collectors.” Tax collectors were genuinely sharp-eyed. That was not because of work ethic, but simply because their livelihoods depended on whether or not they could levy taxes. That, and there was a very good chance the astronomer brought quite a lot of books with her. Those trying to avoid attention would likely be more wary of the commotion that might arise from secretly moving expensive books rather than simply moving them out in the open. Anyone doing that would simply pay their tariffs. “But would those awful tax collectors ever talk offhand about the things they’ve accomplished? They know everyone in the world hates them, and their guild is more closed off than any other guild,” Vadan said. He was always on the receiving end of his smuggling being cracked down on. Ilenia smiled. “Well, we do happen to know a person who used to be a very skilled tax collector. Don’t we?” Myuri drew up her shoulders in discontent because that tax collector was the one she was constantly bickering with. “You know someone like—oh.” At last, Vadan seemed to recall the less than pleasant memories. The very reason Vadan’s ship was called a ghost ship was because he and his whole crew would take on mouse form whenever their smuggling was about to be exposed, and that was how they avoided detection. But their luck eventually ran out, and their ship became stranded on a sand bar due to a sudden storm, exposing a hidden room on the ship and getting them all arrested. And the one who found the hidden room was none other than the person who once acted as head of all Rausbourne’s tax collectors. “Miss Sharon once told me that sharing information with one another is an important part of a tax collector’s job. News on suspicious ships is passed between ports, and they check to see what was loaded where, and if they find a discrepancy, they instantly descend on the ship,” Col said. “Isn’t that right?” “Huh.” As the captain of a smuggling ship, Vadan had likely had his fair share of confrontations with tax collectors. “Never thought the day would come where I’d be relyin’ on their vindictiveness.” A thin thread now bound them to the missing astronomer. Before the sun set that day, a single seabird set flight across the sea. The letter tied to the bird’s leg asked for assistance, and a request for the birds to be handsomely rewarded for their trouble. Folded inside the paper was a tuft of fur from a wolf’s tail, almost like it was a threat intended for one person in particular.