Chapter 130

CHAPTER THREE Though they had to wait for contact from Sharon to arrive, they were not wasting their time in Ahberg. That was because determining possible towns the astronomer went to through taxed book records alone was nothing more than splitting hairs. It was not simply the question of whether or not those records truly existed—when Col thought about putting the plan into action, they would still be faced with the big problem that there were too many possible towns. Even if they were to limit it to towns with towers that could be used for astronomy, it still left them with quite a number. If they did not narrow down the number first, then it would still take a long time, even with Sharon’s help. They would have to cut down drastically on the possibilities. “Everyone stops here,” said Myuri. Sitting at her feet were stray dogs, tails wagging happily. They looked at the sea, looked at Myuri, then panted heavily, their tongues lolling out of their mouths. Myuri offered them pieces of jerky, and they devoured them with delight. “I think that pretty much confirms the fortune-teller left the town by sea.” The first thing Myuri did after sending Sharon a letter was make her way to the town’s large companies. She did not barge in in wolf form and steal hidden ledgers or anything—she found the strays that lingered near the back entrances and had them sniff a cloth she brought from the tower in Wobern. There were all kinds of bold sorts who targeted company goods—mice, birds, thieves—and the stray dogs would gladly take food scraps in exchange for howling at these uninvited guests. And so Myuri’s hypothesis was if the astronomer had stayed the night at one of these companies, then the strays would remember her scent. Most dogs showed no interest in the fabric she brought from the tower, but a few of them hanging around the back of one company house did react and trotted off to lead the way. The dogs would eventually break off and take the wrong routes, but so long as they followed one, they eventually came together again at the same place: the dizzyingly busy Ahberg port. “They won’t know what ship she took, will they?” Col asked. “I don’t know, I can’t understand them like Mother can,” Myuri replied. “But even if I did, I don’t think the dogs would be able to tell any of the ships apart.” That was true. “But we know what company she stayed with, so the mice could probably ransack their records tonight. We might be able to find out where she went easier than we expected.” Things would be easy if that really were the case, but Col reckoned it was not very likely they left any evidence in writing. And there was one other problem. As he and Myuri were following the strays, he was once again amazed by how convenient a nonhuman’s power could be, but on the other hand, he knew there were some things he had to think about with regard to it. Myuri’s power found out what company had been sheltering the astronomer, and there was a chance they could find a big clue if Vadan and his crew snuck in under the cover of darkness. If they really were to find a clue then, how was Col supposed to explain that to Le Roi? They had been faced with similar problems thus far, but he felt like it was at last time to consider the question in earnest. It was not like he did not trust Canaan and Le Roi. There would be more and more situations in which the Twilight Cardinal would be standing center stage in the future, and he could easily picture situations in which he would be faced with difficult problems. And among those would, without doubt, be circumstances that Myuri’s power could solve in an instant. Even if revealing Myuri’s true identity to Canaan, Le Roi, or Hyland was the correct choice, if they kept encountering situations where they had to tell someone, their secret would one day get totally exposed. Then again, sometimes when a nonhuman’s power was almost too convenient. There were times when he felt like he had no choice but to rely on it. That was why, when he looked at Myuri as she patted the strays’ heads, he gave a heavy sigh. The reason he admonished Myuri for wanting to wear her sword all the time was similar. It was not simply because he thought a girl should not carry one—it was because weapons often demanded to be used. The same went for a nonhuman’s power. Not even Col could guarantee that, when he stood at a decisive turning point in his travels to come, he would choose never to use their power in exchange for revealing their existence to the world. Could Myuri, who was innocently playing with stray dogs, choose to never exercise her power? Could they forever keep people like her a secret? Of course, Col also felt a sense of guilt for keeping secrets from Canaan, Le Roi, and Hyland, people who were giving their all to support the Twilight Cardinal. Col had made the conscious decision to step out into the world as the Twilight Cardinal, but there were many tails lying across this path he should not be stepping on. As he thought about what was to come, he wondered if, perhaps, he should make the decision to never rely on their abilities again. His head already ached from trying to decide how to convey this to Le Roi. He hummed deeply as the thoughts rolled through his mind, and Myuri stood, finished with the dogs. “Brother,” she said, brushing the dirt off her hands. “Since we’re already out, can we take a look around town?” All the dogs around her turned to look at Col suspiciously. It was as though they were asking him what he planned on doing with their princess—it was uncomfortable. But Myuri paid it no mind; she sidled up to him and slipped her arm around his like this was a date. The dogs grew even more jealous, but when he noticed she was casually wiping dog drool off her hands and onto his clothes, all he could do was sigh. “Are you hungry?” “No! There’s something I wanna look into!” Myuri objected. Col shook her off and thought about what she said. “Very well. Miss Eve told us to look at how much ironware costs here, anyway.” Most goods exported from Wobern went through Ahberg before being sent out into the wider world, so if they were to inform her of the prices in the city, that would repay her a bit for all the things she had done for them thus far. And that would also give Col time to think of a good pretext for Le Roi. “But we will not be walking and eating.” He nipped that possibility in the bud. Myuri, who had started walking already, turned to look at him over her shoulder and growled. With light, puppy-like steps, Myuri peeked into every stall and workshop they came across, and then asked the stall keepers and artisans about whatever caught her interest. Some things were ironware, like swords and scissors, while some other things were cheese wheels large enough for Myuri to curl up and sleep on, and a good portion of the goods were things from the Wobern mountains. Though Col had forbidden them from walking and eating, she eventually secured herself a small piece of cheese and a buckskin belt with trinket pouches after sufficient wheedling. As he started to wonder if she thought the allowance the prince-elector gave them was gift money, they came across a canal that spanned the city. The way the neatly banked canal ran straight through the city was a genuinely magnificent sight—the city council must have been more dependable than he thought. The canal looked like it was for the townsfolks’ everyday use—ships stocked with fresh fish and others stocked with chickens came and went. One that passed right in front of them at that moment looked to be carrying the wine that would be sating the thirst of the townspeople that night. As they walked along the canal, Myuri found a boatmaster who was waiting for his cargo to be unloaded and went up to talk to him. People who were in the middle of work—and this went for the craftspeople, too—were often the type to yell when interrupted by conversation, but strangely enough, they did no such thing when Myuri spoke to them. That was probably because she was very good at catching them off guard. Before they knew it, she was in their personal space, her red eyes peering up at them with curiosity. When the sturdier artisans and boat workers faltered and the younger apprentices went red in the face, Myuri pounced with her questions. Then every single one would offer an answer without thinking, and ultimately found themselves being honest with her. It was like watching a wolf effortlessly kill foxes. The daughter of the Wisewolf and a merchant of exceptional talent had quite the worrying talent. “Brother?” The girl eventually found her way back to him and tugged at his sleeve. “I’m hungry.” It seemed she had finished her little piece of cheese long ago. Myuri was pointing to a large tavern that sat at the edge of the plaza where several of the canals came together; it was open during the day. It was better than eating and walking, and it was just about the time of day when lunch was a reasonable excuse. Col nodded reluctantly, and Myuri quickly settled at one of the tables just outside the tavern. They soon placed their orders, and then Myuri asked him a question, in the same tone and cadence as if she was asking about tomorrow’s weather. “So, Brother, once we get the date of the prophecy, are we actually going to give it to the mercenary king?” For a brief moment, he did not know what she was talking about. “Uh…I’m sorry?” They had come to Ahberg to search for the missing astronomer, and they were doing so because the scholar supposedly had predicted the date of the eclipse. Once he had the prediction in hand, Prince-Elector Duran would attempt to regain the authority he was so dangerously close to losing. Col, Myuri, and the rest of their party were helping to restore the prince-elector’s authority to create an obligation, and if they managed to prevent the Church from taking advantage of the prophecy, then all the better. But what Myuri had said as she was studying her new buckskin belt ignored everything Col had taken as a given. And the way she spoke insinuated betraying Prince-Elector Duran. Col’s mouth reflexively opened to scold her for suggesting something so selfish, but he had a feeling they had gone through similar things several times throughout their journey together, so he stopped himself. Myuri was a wolf who constantly watched their surroundings, and she was always looking at things he could not see beyond the trees. Once he calmed down a little, Col asked, “…Could you explain that a little more, please?” Myuri’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was the face of a wild child testing him, suspicious as to why he did not get angry. “You’re the one fighting the Church,” she said. “You should be the one to make the prophecy. You should use the prophecy first, so the Twilight Cardinal becomes more popular, instead of helping an unreliable ruler get his power back.” Myuri spoke so smoothly and matter-of-factly, that at a glance it made logical sense. “You know that would be stealing from him, and that is not something I can do. The prince-elector took Archivist Canaan as hostage so that we wouldn’t do such a thing.” Col made sure to speak firmly, but Myuri only shrugged. “Even though Miss Eve would lick her lips if she learned what was going on in this city?” Col furrowed his brow—at first, he was not sure how this was related. Myuri remained facing the canals, but she looked at Col out of the corner of her eye. “I asked around a lot. And everyone said all the goods shipped here triple in price when they go up the mountain and get sold in Wobern.” They were served their bread and soup. After a pause of a breath, Myuri said quietly, “That’s a lot of unfair profits.” It was not easy taking a boat upstream on that torrential river, so most cargo apparently ended up being carried on the backs of donkeys or people. But even if the trip was a difficult one, three times the normal prince was, indeed, far too much. The road from Ahberg to Wobern was nowhere near as harsh as the road from Estatt to Wobern, after all. “And everything that goes the opposite way, down the mountain, is sold for super cheap. They’re practically bartered away. Like, a whole mountain of metal traded for one sack of wheat. It’s like they don’t even bother to calculate the ratio.” That was what she had meant by Eve licking her lips. But Col was still not sure how that justified betrayal. He gave her a questioning look, and after she bit into her bread, she continued. “The sea dwellers are treating the mountain folk like crap!” The one reason Col could not shout at her for foul language was because he understood precisely what she meant. “The previous mercenary king and the one before that were all rough and violent, and there’s a reason why the mountain people want a lord like that.” This girl once acted as the rascal boss of all the children in Nyohhira, and constantly fought with the other boys in the village. Now her red eyes bore straight into her older brother, who had essentially never fought in his life. “The reason all the old kings were people who fit the title mercenary king wasn’t because of tradition, but because the people genuinely wanted them to be like that. I think they needed someone who would threaten to come down the mountain and make everyone kneel if the people living by the sea got too greedy.” The relationships between towns made for quarrels that were on a vastly different level than disputes between neighbors. It was more like a territorial dispute between animals of the forest, and force of arms ultimately had the final say. “And so I wondered.” The wolf girl understood the rules of the forest, and so she continued talking. “Let’s say you find the fortune-teller and get the prophecy date. Even if you were to just give the mercenary king the date, would he still end up a reliable ally?” She dipped her bread in her soup and bit into it, as though warming up her mouth, cooled from suggesting something so cold. She had so much fun ordering the strays around, letting her curiosity lead her throughout the city and asking many people many questions, yet this had been running through her mind the whole time. Col, who had been bemoaning nonhuman power, was not the only one putting his brain to work. “Also, you probably couldn’t tell,” she said. “But most of the wheat being shipped to the mountain is bad quality. I thought maybe there wasn’t any good wheat around this area, but when I got a closer look at the cargo at the port, there was plenty that looked just fine. They ship bad quality stuff to Wobern on purpose.” In the eyes of the Ruvik Alliance, the ones who managed trade in Ahberg, the entire mountain region, including Wobern, was a cow worth milking dry. It was the martial might of the lords past, ones who lived up to the name of mercenary king, that carved away that natural disadvantage. But no one could expect much from the present prince-elector in terms of battle due to his bad leg. And since he was much more brains than brawn, the thieving river nobles did whatever they pleased. The reason the people of Wobern did not respect the prince-elector was because of very real problems. The prince-elector had very few options remaining to him—he bet his course of action on an astronomer, and he left his fate in the hands of a young man who called himself the Twilight Cardinal. “The worst possible outcome of all this is that you give the date of prophecy to the mercenary king, and then he gets kicked off his throne. Did you think about that?” “……” Myuri’s tendency to dream was just one part of her personality. It was these parts of her that gave her a sharpness that lived up to her wolf heritage. “Do you think one measly miracle is enough for the old man to flip all the disadvantages against him?” she mused, then looked up at Col with wide eyes. He could see the Wisewolf in her red eyes. “But if you made the prophecy, it would be amazing—I know it. That would become your power, and your freedom. Right?” All Col had to do was think back on the false Twilight Cardinal who had appeared in Estatt. All the imposter had to do was speak of ideals, and that drove the people into a fervor so powerful they built an entire town on a muddy wasteland. What would happen if he predicted the moment the heavenly bodies vanished from the sky? Grabbing the hearts of the people was the same as grabbing a weapon—at least in the context of the fight against the Church. “Stand on a hill, raise a staff, then tell everyone about the change in the sky. Do you know how many stories they’d write about your miracle?” The corner of Myuri’s mouth lifted, and Col got a peek of the canine underneath. And even though she sounded like she was partially joking, her eyes were serious. Even Col knew how much of a commotion that would cause. He had taken on the role of the Twilight Cardinal in Estatt and had vowed to prevail in his fight against the Church. He was keenly aware he needed a firm grip on the reins so the immense power his title carried was not used for evil. With that in mind, Myuri’s suggestion might have been the optimal solution. The eclipse prophecy would push the power of the Twilight Cardinal to even greater heights. And that would be a huge step forward on their journey. “But…” Col thought back on Prince-Elector Duran as he told him of his secret in the courtyard of his palace. His palace was empty. It stood in the center of a city packed with buildings and people living nearby; however, it still seemed like he lived alone. That he employed an astronomer, too, had to have been a last resort; a grasping at straws; his only option left after a long and hard struggle. And then, just when it seemed like a miracle might occur, it was taken from him. Could Col take that possibility away from him yet again? That was not something the Twilight Cardinal would do. There was yet another thing that hurt his heart. It was the way Myuri so casually brought it up. He did not believe that growing up and becoming an adult meant gaining a cold, heartless point of view. Logically speaking, Myuri was probably correct. But it was hard for him to accept, and it saddened him this might be how Myuri was growing up. Col realized he had crushed the piece of bread in his hand. It was when he lifted his gaze to advocate for faith, the nonreligious sort. “And then, when you become such an awesome prophet that you make Canaan go red in the face, you’ll be able to save the mercenary king for real,” Myuri said, leaning over the table. “Ah…What?” “If he becomes a king my great brother recognizes, then everyone would bow to him.” There were marinaded sardines in Myuri’s hands. Evidently, she had ordered without him realizing. The sardines were rather round and fat for the season, and they were covered in what looked to be finely chopped herbs. After spending so much time at Hyland’s manor and in Eve’s presence, a woman for whom money was no object, Myuri had come to develop a discriminating palate. She pinched the tail of the sardine, lifted it above her head, then opened her mouth wide and ate it in one bite. Col had no choice but to watch the act with a dumbfounded look, like a sheep that came across a wolf in the forest and could not bring itself to run away. “Are you listening to me, Brother?” She did not look angry. If anything, she seemed delighted. When he saw that, he understood; she knew he would be thrown off balance by her idea from the very start. They would be taking away the date of the prophecy from Prince-Elector Duran, who held on to it as his last hope. What sort of reaction would her foolish brother make when she made such an unethical suggestion, even if it was perfectly sensible? Her simple brother would of course show aversion, but then find distress as he reasoned through it, and yet choose to take a heavy step forward on a path of his own choosing. That was because sheep tended to stare at their own feet as they walked. But wolves walked paths where there were none, saw far beyond the canopies of the trees, and laid in wait for their prey. “You know, I would neeever actually suggest something I know you’d hate,” Myuri said happily, and swallowed another marinaded sardine. A bitter look crossed Col’s face, because for a moment, he felt an awful lot like the sardine. She knew her timid brother would hate waving a staff around and pretending to be a prophet, especially if that meant stealing Prince-Elector Duran’s thunder. But Myuri had taken the exact same things to make a completely different dish from it. Prophesizing an eclipse could turn a beggar into a wise man. And so she was saying a Twilight Cardinal who had successfully made an accurate prediction could save the unfortunate prince-elector with certainty. “Oh, obviously, when the Twilight Cardinal stands on the hill waving his staff around, the Saint of the Sun is going to be there with him! It’s going to be so awesome when it happens, and people are gonna act it out on street corners everywhere!” As the sheep tread earnestly through the treacherous forest, the wolf trotted along beside him, wagging her tail. The wolf cared not that the sheep stumbled over the bad roads—she was still playing with him. As the image played out in his mind, Col sighed. Myuri was pleased, having toyed with her brother. Col tore off a piece of his squished bread and tiredly tossed it into his mouth. The Twilight Cardinal would prophesize the coming of the eclipse, and then wield his overwhelming authority to save the prince-elector. It was an option Col had not even considered, but it was certainly worth considering. That said, when he wrote it down it felt terribly arrogant, and he had a feeling the prince-elector would find it hard to stomach on an emotional level. Just picturing himself telling the prince-elector that it would go much better if the Twilight Cardinal were to make the prediction made him squirm from the sheer insolence. Regardless of the way he held his head in his hands as he sat at the desk, the very wolf who had showed him the alternate path lay sprawled out over the bed, reading a book Le Roi had lent her about the legend of a saint who had something to do with the constellations. When Col traveled with Myuri’s parents as a child, he often saw the merchant sitting at the desk with his head in his hands while the Wisewolf relaxed on the bed. As he thought back on Myuri’s father’s troubles, he thought hard to put together several ways they could deal with the prophecy, then put it in a letter to Hyland asking for her thoughts. After a few days, they received contact from Vadan and his crew, who had been sneaking around the company where the astronomer had been temporarily staying. The results were not great. They had apparently done a thorough search across two entire nights, but there was no written record of where she had gone. It was perhaps a plan only a small number of people within the company knew of. This was a plot that involved kidnapping a scholar from the employ of a waning, yet still respectable, prince-elector. Of course they would be careful. And that meant the only way they could trace her steps was to look through the customs records of an impossibly large number of towns. They had no clues that could help them narrow that number down—all they had was the certainty she likely left the city by boat. But Myuri did not have a worry in the world. She would randomly come up with ideas, such as, “There are huge flocks of passage birds, right? I heard those get big enough to cover the entire sky, so we could have the birds search for us!” Col anxiously wondered if that was ultimately possible, and if they used that method, would they ultimately be forced to reveal the existence of nonhumans, until the night of the third day. Vadan in his mouse form came to their room at the inn. “Sorry we couldn’t really find anything at the company house. You got a reply to your letter, though.” “Already?” A bird bearing the reply letter from Rausbourne was apparently waiting on Vadan’s ship. Col was shocked by the speed; it must have been hard for the bird to fly through the drizzle, which had lasted all day. Knowing whatever it was had to be big news, Myuri slung her hooded robe over her shoulders, but— “Wh—hey! Walk on your own!” “One or two can’t hurt.” As she changed, all the mice, including Vadan himself, scuttled up her shoulders and into her hood. “C’mon, you’re taking us there. I’ll tell you where to go.” Myuri sighed as she pulled on her hood, now bustling with mice. The way it squirmed made it seem like she had her wolf ears out. “Don’t pull too hard on my hair, okay?” With a pout, Myuri shoved her hand into the hood to shift the mice around. Though she could not be too harsh with the mice she had become friends with, Col still suppressed the intrusive urge to say, How does it feel to be toyed with for once? When they exited out into the corridor, they found Ilenia, who had mice on her own shoulder, ready and waiting for them. “I’m glad to see you having fun as always, Myuri.” Holding back the stream of mice that threatened to pour from the gaps in her robe, Myuri sighed deeply. The harbors in any town typically stayed lively late into the night, but naturally, with the rain, it was quiet. The city felt unusually silent on this still night; they rushed through it while being careful of the wet, slippery flagstones. Once they arrived at the harbor, light spilled from a few boats. It seemed feasts took place below deck on rainy nights. They gingerly crossed one of the planks to board one such ship. From the outside, it looked like all the other ships. But once Col stood on deck, he recalled when they came to investigate this very ship when it had run aground on a sand bar. He then remembered it had been physically pulled from the sandbar with rope, and he looked at Ilenia. “Hmm?” Ilenia noticed his gaze and smiled at him, but he quickly looked away. In that moment, Vadan and the other mice leaped from within Myuri’s hood and vanished. There must have been a mice-only entrance somewhere. One baby mouse was not quick enough to leap down with the rest; Myuri started teasing and playing with it in her hands, and the door to the hold opened shortly afterward. “Come on in.” Vadan, back in his human form, welcomed them in, and they all started down the stairs. As they moved down, relying on the faint light of the candle, Col noticed the frown on Myuri’s face growing deeper and deeper. “What is the matter?” he asked, and Myuri looked away in a huff. “That’s not how you say hello,” came a voice. Sitting in the dim of the candlelight was the bird spirit who once led all the tax collectors in Rausbourne. “Chicken!” “What do you want, puppy?” They addressed each other sharply, but Ilenia was chuckling; it was their usual way of greeting each other. Myuri brought the baby mouse close to her face and scared it with fake threats. “That evil bird’s gonna eat you if you let your guard down.” “I did not think you would be here yourself, Miss Sharon, and this late at night,” Col said. On closer inspection, he saw her hair was damp; sitting on the crate beside her was a piece of bread and a bowl of soup, still steaming hot. “I told the others I was going to Rausbourne when I left the monastery. Didn’t have time, so I had to fly overnight.” Sharon was the incarnation of a bird, and when she retired from tax collecting, she started running an orphanage in Rausbourne. She was presently working with a fledgling priest named Clark to build an orphanage attached to a monastery under Hyland’s auspices. And of course, she was a powerful ally while they were traveling on the mainland because of her influence over birds. Yet Sharon kept her true identity hidden from Clark, so there was quite a lot of awkward things she had to work around. So Col found it hard to ask for her help too much…yet when that thought crossed his mind, she reached into the darkness behind her and pulled something out, which she then shoved into Col’s chest. He hurriedly took it in hand and saw it was a sheaf of paper.