“It’s just the beginning, but I brought it with me ’cause Clark was excited to show it to you.” The corner of the page was slightly damp. “Is this the scripture?” he asked. “Printing’s incredible, huh?” Illuminated by the candlelight was a stanza of the scripture, neat letters arranged in tidy rows. Myuri peered at the page with great interest. “The place is packed to the ceiling with this stuff right now.” Normally, the only way to make copies of a book was to get a scribe to labor endlessly with pen in hand. But one group of artisans came up with a way to print letters onto the page, in the same manner as one might stamp a wax seal. This technology allowed them to copy an incredible number of words at once, and what might have taken months to copy by hand could be done in just a few days, and produce multiple copies. Anyone would think it a convenient technology, but the Church was wary of how easy it would be to spread falsehoods and heresies, and they sealed it away. It was only recently that Col and his allies took into their care an artisan who had escaped this persecution and built a workshop to make books. And it was in that workshop they had begun printing copies of the vernacular translation of the scripture. “The workshop itself isn’t finished yet, so we won’t be drowning booksellers in copies of the scripture just yet. But you can already see it happening at some point, yeah?” Sharon typically had a stern look on her face, but Col caught glimpses of pride and confidence when she turned her gaze to the sheaf of paper. They had craftspeople carving the metallic molds of the letters they would be using for printing, casters who made the letter blocks from the molds, papermakers producing all the necessary paper, artisans brewing huge quantities of ink, and of course, merchants to collect everything. It was certainly not an easy job to command all those people while simultaneously building the workshop itself. Myuri seemed somewhat displeased by the look on Sharon’s face. “Can you make more adventure stories?” she asked. “Logically, yes. But the technology’s meant for making more copies of one thing. It’s way too much trouble to just make one copy of one book for one little puppy. Quicker to get it transcribed.” Myuri pouted, and not because Sharon was calling her a puppy. But the rambunctious girl had not only inherited the blood of the Wisewolf, but also the blood of an exceptional merchant. “But if you make more copies of a book everyone wants, then I could trade it with books about all kinds of stories.” Myuri looked up to the ceiling, plotting, then slowly dropped her gaze to Col. “Right, Brooother?” The way she spoke to him at the end was not her asking for his agreement, but like a cat purring, or rather, a wolf whining because she wanted something. Perhaps she was going to ask him to request the artisans make copies of a popular adventure novel. “When do you think the scripture will be finished?” he asked Sharon, completely ignoring Myuri. “The scripture’s got a lot of pages. I’m thinking past autumn.” “Autumn, hmm…” It was not as quick as he had initially hoped, but if they did manage to print all the pages, then the number of copies of the scripture would explode. They would have them done in time for their fight against the Church, it seemed. “Also, printing aside, Hyland’s getting churches and abbeys all over the kingdom to transcribe the vernacular version of the scripture, and she’s getting so many inquiries from all over. I bet the world’s gonna be a little more cohesive once everyone can read the scripture.” Not only was Sharon not human, but she was one who had suffered at the hands of society’s and the Church’s distorted ways. Though she spoke in a light tone, her words carried a unique weight. Col ignored Myuri as she tugged at his sleeve, whining about wanting more adventure stories, and nodded. “Then we will have to do our best as well.” He had to find allies on the mainland, arm himself with the vernacular translation of the scripture, and head into battle against the Church with as many advantages as he could manage. Because he knew now was the only chance they had to clean up the injustices all over the world that had built up over a thousand years. “Clark’s been thinking about you, too. When he heard about the imposter, he went red in the face. I’d never seen him so angry.” “He was?” Canaan was surprisingly a lot like Myuri, but Col found Clark truly felt like a quiet and honest priest. Col could not picture him angry, but he was still delighted to know Clark had been angry for him. “Anyway, that’s partly why I rushed out here,” Sharon said, tired, as she put her hand on her hip. She seemed genuinely exhausted. She had flown from Rausbourne all day and all night with a test print of the scripture in her talons. Col thanked her again, and she gave a loud and heavy sigh. “You know there’s another reason I flew out here, right?” “What?” Col asked. “What the hell are you thinking?” she asked. “Do you have any idea how crazy that plan of yours is?” Apparently Sharon had rushed out here to complain about their foolish plan right to their faces. Myuri, who had been busy clinging to Col to ask for more adventure stories she could trade for other stories from around the world, suddenly turned to Sharon to ask her a question. “But you could get it done right away if you ask your flock of birds. Right, Chicken?” “Okay, listen,” Sharon began as she pressed a hand to her forehead. It was like she was unsure of what she should be angry about first when it came to Myuri’s thoughtless request. Col also pushed away the clingy girl’s head, and informed Sharon of their situation. “We attempted to narrow down the trail ourselves, but all we managed to learn was that she likely took a sea route.” “Wow. Do you know many ports there are in the world? Your thoughtlessness gives me a migraine.” The astronomer had left Ahberg by boat and then arrived at some port, somewhere else. The books among her things would most certainly have been subject to tariffs, so if they could find those records, then they would know she had alighted there. It was a lot like the pure and proper lifestyle detailed in the scripture—much easier written than done. “First, it’s gonna be real hard to find what port she went to after this, and that’s not all. If the council of that city is the one that manages the tax collectors, then you’re free to look through their tariff records. But if the tax collectors are levying taxes at their own discretion, then they’re only really gonna talk about what kind of taxes they levied to collectors who work at the same port, over drinks, just to brag. They might talk about it with colleagues if someone manages to bag a pretty penny because they found a bunch of books…” In short, that meant even if they did manage to send a letter to the city where the tax collectors who levied taxes on the astronomer’s books worked, there was no guarantee they would receive an appropriate response. “But this is an astronomer, right? Clark told me they like high places. Maybe it’s more realistic to check out all the really tall towers in the world.” “I-if you think s—” Col began, but fell silent when she turned a sharp eye on him. “I’m being sarcastic. Doesn’t matter if you want my kin to do that survey for you, because there’s a problem. Ask your puppy what that is.” Sharon jerked her chin at Myuri, and Col looked at the girl beside him. Myuri stared back at him, then drew up her shoulders as she got into a vexed huff. “There’s a difference between what errands I can send you on and what errands I can send Miss Ilenia on, right?” “Pfft.” Sharon snorted at her wording. Ilenia was smiling at the way she had been used as a point of reference, but all Col could manage was a sigh. “I think I understand,” he said. When he saw how Myuri grinned, Col heaved another sigh. It was Ilenia who spoke to Sharon instead. “You mean to say it would be difficult for the birds to determine if the astronomer was in any particular tower, right?” “Yeah. All I can really ask ’em to do is send letters.” Myuri often had the strays in a city help her with things, but she could not ask them to do anything complicated. “Even if I did ask them, birds of passage are all migrating at this time of year, and if any of ’em linger behind, then it’ll be difficult for them to keep their territory once the rest of their flock’s left.” That was also a problem. Much like how humans led their own lives, so did birds. Sharon was warning them they were asking too much from her birds. “Well, the idea itself isn’t so bad,” Sharon said. “Why don’t you just set that puppy on the city merchants?” That was the method she eventually settled on. “I wish I could take the merchants and throw them into the sea, too.” Myuri was not opposed to resorting to violence, of course—that was often the first thing she thought of. The reason she never brought it up was because she knew her straitlaced big brother would not agree. But what Le Roi had mentioned earlier was more relevant than Col’s reluctance to put nonhumans in situations that might reveal their existence. “What would cause us the most trouble this time around is the moment we ask after the astronomer, it will become all too clear she is being pursued.” And that was why Col would only set Myuri on the Ruvik Alliance as an absolute last resort when they truly had no time left. As Sharon crossed her arms and sighed, a voice came from the hallway. “Why not drag those merchants onto our ship? We could get ’em to spill their guts and then strand ’em on some island for a little while. The Twilight Cardinal’ll allow it so long as we don’t kill ’em, right?” The voice from the hallway belonged to Vadan, who approached in his human form. There was a wooden bowl in his hands, and behind him, his crew brought over ale and a large pot. The self-concerned wolf girl, carried by her whims, let her tail out and began wagging it, and quickly leaped at the sinful nighttime meal. “That would be a quick solution and ultimately safe, I think. You have a mouse that can unlock doors, and you have a wolf that can bite into ’em,” Sharon said and resumed her dinner. Myuri tore the piece of bread she received into small bits to share with the little mouse that had been scampering over her shoulder. Those with truly superhuman abilities could push through problems in the human world by force. While it was reassuring, the question of how Col would explain everything to Le Roi and Canaan loomed before him. Regardless of how he thought or felt, Myuri was surprisingly approving of Sharon’s suggestion, while Vadan gave the outline of his plan and Ilenia adjusted the details. The plan sounded savage on its face, but they could likely pull it off with the same casual attitude they could do their shopping for dinner, and with little risk. Those speaking below deck on this ship, illuminated by candlelight, were not human. And as the only person in this room who was, Col felt an obligation to say something. “If I may…” When he murmured this, animal eyes and ears turned toward him. “Even if we find a solution with your miraculous powers, there are still people with whom we cannot share the truth.” Myuri munched on her bread, swallowed, and said, “Is that old man Le Roi and Canaan?” “Yes.” Myuri turned to look at Ilenia, Vadan, Sharon, and then shrugged. “I think we could tell them.” “Of course, I think we can trust them. And I believe we can do the same with Heir Hyland. However…” Col was the only human here. He paused to think about his words. He wanted them to hear what he had thought of during his walk with Myuri around town directly from himself. “Let’s say everyone we know learns about nonhumans. If that were to happen, then naturally, they would readily come to you for help due to your powers.” There had been many times during his journey where he had relied on nonhuman power to solve a problem. If there were no restrictions on using those powers, Col would have a much easier time. “Yeah. That would make things simple. Right?!” Myuri had her ears and tail out as she looked to her peers for agreement. Ilenia smiled, Sharon shrugged, and Vadan’s expression suggested his answer would depend on the reward. “But yeah, what about it?” she continued. “Isn’t that a good thing?” “In terms of problem-solving, yes. But the moment it becomes easier for others to rely on your powers, then our own actions will change drastically.” “They will…?” Myuri canted her head to the side. Sharon, who was the best adjusted to the human world out of everyone present, scratched her head as she spoke. “Yeah, guess they would. People would just look to us for help any time there’s a problem.” Despite that, Myuri still did not seem to understand what she meant. If something was convenient, then why not use it? That was precisely what Col and Myuri had been doing. Now that she could entrust a letter to a bird whenever she wanted to contact someone, it had quickly become natural to Myuri. Col cleared his throat, and the wolf girl turned to look at him. “Miss Sharon may have experienced this a few times as a former tax collector…” Sharon, who had been listening with her arms crossed, snorted, possibly recalling an unpleasant memory. Col was a fool, and he was nowhere near as sharp as Myuri the wolf. But not even the sharp-eyed Myuri could see everything in the world. “We must think carefully about the moment we lose all hesitation with regard to using this miraculous power, simply because it is convenient. We will, quite literally, be creating miracles. Like carrying out the prediction of the eclipse, for example.” Col turned to look at Myuri because she was the one who had said it would be more effective if the Twilight Cardinal were to make the prediction, rather than the unreliable mercenary king. “A great deal of people will marvel at our miraculous problem-solving abilities, and even more will see us as saviors in this chaotic world. Many will acknowledge us and lend an ear to all we have to say. Once that happens, they may even prove to be a big help in your search for the new continent. However…” Col paused before continuing, his voice tired. “Hagiographies describe saints who create miracles to help people, but those stories are always short. They typically end right when the people begin to venerate the saint. Do you know why that is?” Myuri shrugged, perplexed by the question. Her wolf ears lay flat, as when she was being scolded. “Because it’s not long afterward that the saints are no longer able to live up to the people’s expectations.” Those who could create miracles were naturally expected to make miracles all the time. But they were only people, not an omnipotent god. People wanted miracles—what would they think if the saint was no longer able to solve their problems one day? Would they see it as a well that had run dry? Or would they see a person being stingy with their power? People could be unspeakably cruel. “Recall the people’s fervor from the Town of Hope, Ohlburg. That zeal became disappointment, and then transformed into anger that rebounded right back at them.” When Col said that, Myuri fell silent and went stiff. Despite her love for the wilder side of festivals, she had never been fond of fanaticism. “People expect great things from the Twilight Cardinal,” he continued. “If I cannot continue to meet their expectations, then we cannot win against the Church. But doing so will come with a price.” “And that is if the expectations are too high, then it becomes more difficult to keep pace, yes?” Ilenia confirmed with a sigh. “I spent most of my time working alone, and I generally thought it would be fine so long as no one found out. I see now—you truly are different from the rest of us, Col.” Col was the only human here. If he were to borrow the miracles nonhumans could bring about, then he would eventually have to pay the price. Unlike the sheep who pulled a beached ship free, or the eagle who could call upon countless birds, or the mouse who could sneak into the most impregnable fortresses, Col was just a regular human being. Beyond the familiar visage of their faces was an entirely different world; the depths of the forest writhed with entities unfathomable to him. Of course, he did not think this meant they could never reach an understanding. It was because Myuri’s father shared the belief he had taken the wolf spirit’s hand. But Col could not forget these two things were qualitatively different. They may be familiar in form, but on a deeper level— “My brother isn’t different!” Myuri leaped toward him, flinging both her soup bowl and spoon in the process. Col somehow managed to stay upright, despite tipping dangerously. He caught her in his arms, and she squeezed her arms around his neck, like she was strangling her prey. “We’re not!” Humans and nonhumans. They were intrinsically incompatible, all the more so than heretics and the faithful. This girl was more sensitive to that division than anyone else, and she had leaped over it to hold on to him tight. She rubbed away her sudden flood of tears into his chest, and Col, somewhat reflexively, patted her on the back. As he did, the one to speak up was, surprisingly, Vadan. “Well, if that’s the deal here, then it’s fine, isn’t it?” The captain of the mice spoke with indifference. One of his crewmembers had acrobatically caught the soup bowl Myuri threw, so Vadan took it from him and, for some reason, handed it to Col. With one hand around Myuri’s back, Col took the bowl with the other, and Vadan spoke breezily. “We mice are usually ostracized anyway. We know there’s danger in standing out. Well, I guess we’ve gotten a little braver since we welcomed Miss Sheep on board.” Vadan shrugged in slight self-deprecation. Ilenia’s brows and shoulders fell as she spoke up as well. “I suppose I’m the same. That reminds me of when the master…I mean, Lady Eve scolded me a little while ago. A merchant stole one of her shipments, so I went and turned his company building upside down to get it back.” Even Sharon stared wide-eyed at that confession. Sheep tended to get fixated on one thing, and Ilenia’s attachment and adoration for Eve were perfect examples of that. Col pictured the look on Eve’s face as she held her breath, watching Ilenia uproot and overturn an entire building, foundation and all, to get her shipment back with a smile. It was entirely possible his own wolf would pull a similar stunt someday, so it was not something he could brush aside. Then he heard Sharon sigh as she looked at Myuri. “When people from the same town run into one another in a distant port town, they tend to cut loose at a tavern together. This is my first time getting together with people like me, too.” Sharon sounded vexed. The hint of self-caution in her words pointed at the real reason why. Her life was deeply intertwined with the systems of human society. And it seemed she had experienced the pain of using the power of the bird that she had inherited, only to pay the price. “Well, it’s also kinda your fault.” Her flat gaze rested on Myuri as she clung to Col, and the way his arm wound around her protectively. “You two always make me uneasy. I feel like I gotta help you, y’know?” Col made no reaction, but Myuri began growling in his arms. “But you’re right, we should be a little more conservative. You’ve been using my birds too much anyway.” Col was well aware of that, so his only real option was to nod. “So I get we’re not supposed to stand out too much, but then what are we actually supposed to do?” Vadan asked, cracking his neck. “Even if the point is that it doesn’t look like a miracle and we act all careful-like, you’re not gonna find where the astronomer went without our power.” Reality and ideals were always separated by an unbridgeable gap. “This eclipse business, too. Might be in six months, and it might be tomorrow. Not sure if we can go about this casually.” That was also a problem. With every day that passed, they drew nearer to the moment someone would raise their staff and point to the heavens. “It would be nice if we had a way to narrow down the places she could have gone,” Col remarked. Especially if she had not been forcibly dragged away but treated well enough that someone was buying books for her. That meant it was very likely she was continuing her observation of the stars. These facts together should serve as big leads. Unfortunately, they had not made very good progress. That was when Sharon spoke up. “When I heard about your plan, I knew you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it if you didn’t narrow things down. That’s why I flew straight here to save you some thinking time,” Sharon said. “Of course,” she added with a vexed sigh, “if you really need to use the birds’ power on a grand scale, I’m not going to keep stubbornly turning you down. We have power, and you have a goal. And I, at the very least, am placing my bets on your success.” Sharon had ties to the human world, and she had a whole gaggle of orphans she wanted to protect. And whether or not she could keep the orphanage running depended on Hyland’s aid. A large, dark shadow would fall over all of that if they lost their fight against the Church. And so in Sharon’s view, it was better she held nothing back if they could achieve their goal. “My objective is in the new continent, but our interests greatly overlap, Col. I am always happy to lend you my power,” Ilenia said, and Col nodded. “But it’s getting late. Shall we call it for today?” Her gaze rested on Myuri in Col’s arms as she said that. No one opposed the suggestion, and so they dispersed. Myuri was still upset. The baby mice were worried about her and gave her little pieces of bread, which she accepted with slight embarrassment. There were times back in Nyohhira, too, when the great Wisewolf would give her a terrible scolding, but she would quickly regain her energy once she got some food, almost like she was reinflating. That was one of the good things about her. Once Sharon finished her cooled soup, Vadan directed her to where she would be sleeping on the ship, and Ilenia went to study a map detailing all the seaside port towns in the navigation room with the rest of Vadan’s crew. The lively room quickly emptied. Wolves much preferred the dark forests to the wide-open plains, but the dim and lonely interior of a ship seemed to be an exception; Myuri asked they go out on the deck. The sprinkle of rain that had come with their arrival had lifted. Now a comfortable, damp, but cool breeze gently caressed Col’s cheek. Myuri seemed to have calmed down for the most part, but she still did not say much. Perhaps she had been shocked by the unexpected encounter with the boundary between humans and nonhumans. Nonhumans had great power, but the more regular humans borrowed that power, the further they, too, drifted from the human world. Col had heard of a fairy tale where a sheep in wolf’s clothing beat back a bear. But it ends in tragedy, where the sheep begins to genuinely think of itself as a bear. If humans were to continually borrow the power of the spirits, then they would soon forget they are human. Myuri had been born straddling that line to begin with, and so it seemed she enjoyed freely crossing from one side to the other, but perhaps she was simply pretending the line did not exist. And that was perhaps why she had been so shocked by its sudden appearance, and why she panicked. The friendly wolf pup did not yet have a coat thick enough to withstand the cold of isolation. “Shall we go back to the inn?” Col asked her. Only one of her wolf ears turned to him. “If Miss Ilenia…,” she trailed. “Hmm?” “If Miss Ilenia really finds the new continent, are you going to stay with me, Brother?” Col needed a few moments to properly grasp what she meant by that. The idea that she would undoubtedly go to the new continent once it was discovered was due to either her love for adventure, or because of the nonhuman blood in her veins. If Ilenia’s plan of a country for nonhumans genuinely came to fruition, then it would be a place where she would be surrounded by people like her, where there was no need to hide her ears and tail. But the reason he pictured her looking lost as she stepped onto this new land from the ship was because he was not there with her. Humans and nonhumans. Perhaps Myuri had grown anxious after being forced to confront the distance between herself and Col once again. “If I were a priest, I would tell you God will always be with you,” he said as a slight joke while patting her head. Her typically valiantly piqued ears now lay flat and listless. “But I am not God.” Myuri held her breath and looked up at him. “And I am sure one day I will no longer be able to keep up with your reckless adventures. I am certain there will come a day where I will sit in a quiet chapel, praying for the safety of your journey.” She was not the type to listen if he told her to behave, and he would not lie and say he did not wish she would calm down sooner than later, but he had no intentions of tying her down, either. Because ultimately, he was happier when she was joyfully dashing about the world and not glumly cooped up in her room. Col felt like he had been the first to give in, but Myuri seemed saddened by this, as if she had been cast aside. “However…,” he continued, and gently pinched her cheek. “My door will always be open. That is more than enough, no?” Col did not know if that door would be in Nyohhira, or if it would be somewhere else. But after the wolf had gone on her grand adventure, sick of the cramped world she lived in, there would come a day that exhaustion would catch up to her, and she should always be welcome to visit. When she was disappointed in the ugliness of the world, or when she had lost her way, she could surely find her footing again there. “Even if we do end up apart, I will always be your older brother.” Nothing was certain in the storm called life, but that was the one constant, shining light. That was what he had in mind when he said that, but Myuri sniffed quietly and suddenly went sour. “…I don’t always want to be your little sister.” Her stubbornness was proof she was well. Col smiled faintly and replied, “Even though you cannot call me anything besides ‘Brother’?” He egged her on. The wolf pup easily took the bait and leaped at him. As she clung to him, he patted her head and chuckled quietly. Though it was never nearly as bad as her father, Col would get very anxious whenever he thought about sending Myuri off to get married back in Nyohhira. When he thought about how the lively girl would one day be gone and leave the bathhouse quiet, he would indulge in his sentimentality. But it would never be a permanent farewell. The whole world was connected. If she kept walking, she would always find a new home. “So long as you stay the Saint of the Sun, then I know I will always be one of many who will look up at your brilliance and watch you venture from east to west.” She was fervent, restless, yet reliable in that she would always reappear, even if she did sometimes vanish from view—and that made the moniker of the sun perfect for Myuri. “But I will always keep a faint light burning for you when you find yourself trapped by darkness.” Much in the way dawn showed the way. “Because I am the Twilight Cardinal.” Col ruffled Myuri’s hair once again, then patted her. “Come now, it’s getting cold.” He wanted to say they should be returning to the inn, but Myuri, in all her cunning, deliberately misunderstood what he meant. She clung tighter to him and attempted to shove her entire self under his arm. It was a silent indication this is what he had to do if he was getting cold. “Hey, stop that.” Col almost fell over but managed to steady himself; he saw her tail happily begin to wag. He was relieved her mood was improving, but he did not want her to be this clingy forever. He tried to peel her off, but she refused to budge. “That’s enough, Myuri.” “Heh-heh, no it’s not!” Col was sure Sharon and Vadan would give him a look if they were watching him now. And the mice who had been worried about how crestfallen Myuri seemed earlier were now staring up at them wide-eyed. He thought the line about being a faint flame in the dark to guide the lost was nice, something that could have come straight from the scripture. The day he would be a silent, guiding light, one that never bent to the elements, much like the lighthouse in the distance, seemed a distant one. He had almost fallen over when the wolf pup ran into him, after all. “Ah-ha-ha…ha…Hmm?” Myuri had been twisting around, laughing to herself, when she suddenly noticed that Col’s attention was elsewhere and stopped. Though he was not looking at her, he could tell she was looking to see what he was looking at. “……” Who did the silence belong to? Regardless, Myuri was the one who moved first. She stirred, then pressed close to him, as though wiping her face. “I’m gonna guess what you just thought of!” Col wrapped his hands around her head and gave her hair a firm and aggressive ruffle—the pup never learned her lesson, after all. “There is one place we need to check before we wander blindly into the mountain of port cities.” Though she rarely minded the lie of her fur on her tail, Myuri took very good care of her hair. She whined when he messed it up. But Col’s gaze remained fixed on one thing, no matter how much she shook and smacked him. It was a place that sat apart from where people typically lived, and it was not strange for people to come and go during the night. Plus, it rose into the heavens, supporting the starry skies both night and day. “The lighthouse!” Myuri spoke the answer aloud. There was no particularly strong evidence, but Col was oddly confident about his conjecture. Though he had tried so hard to peel her off without any luck, it was Myuri who suddenly leaped backward away from him to rush below deck like the wind. Ilenia was just coming up at the same time and quickly stepped out of the way; she followed Myuri with her eyes, then turned to Col, and promptly decided to go after the wolf. The baby mice, too, used their special entrance to follow. Col stared up at the sky and squinted. The clouds were thinning, but it was not clear enough for him to see the stars. But it was simply that he could not see them—they were still there. He clenched his fists, as though wrapping his hands around what he felt was a firm lead to the astronomer, and then followed after Myuri.
Chapter 131
28 min read