Chapter 96

CHAPTER FOUR Col awoke with a jolt. He felt like he had been in the midst of a long dream, but he also felt as if he had been asleep for only a second. But as the blood began to circulate in his head again, his memories slowly came back to him, like drops of water spreading through paper. The first thing he thought of was that, perhaps, he had stumbled across a robbery that was being carried out while the weather was bad and there were few people on the street. But if that were the case, then there was no reason he should have been kept alive, much less taken away to another location. They should have left him there with the innkeeper. So then…had he been the target? What came to mind at the same time was what Rhodes said about how assailants had attacked the Knights of Saint Kruza under someone else’s orders. By the time his thought process reached that conclusion, there came a distant but loud stomp, accompanied by even louder speech. “I’m telling you, you got the wrong guy! What the hell are you people doing?!” There came a muffled murmur after that, but the voice sounded terribly unsure. Perhaps whomever it was, was making excuses. “Ugh, I don’t care anymore!” The first person yelled again. “Stop acting without my permission! Get out of here and go have a pint or something!” The stomping footsteps stopped before the door, and there came the sound of the latch being undone. It was at this point that Col at last realized the reason he could not see was not because his eyes were closed, but because the sack was still over his head. “I swear…Good God. Who the hell did they bring back?” The words themselves were vulgar, but there was something refined about the speaker’s enunciation and vocabulary. For that reason, the situation did not terribly frighten Col, nor was he overly surprised when the mystery man ordered, “Untie him.” The sack was unceremoniously ripped from his head; his eyes pricked at the flood of light, but he quickly got used to it—it was only candlelight. When he glanced around, he saw he was not in a desolate bandit hideout, which is what he had been picturing, but a rather nice room with strangely fine furniture. There was even a tapestry on the wall depicting a knight fighting in battle. The open window showed that it had stopped raining. “Goddammit.” His attention drawn by the heavy sigh, Col finally turned to the man standing in the middle of the room, staring at him. He was rather tall, with broad shoulders. Col noted his coat and the sword at his hip; when he spotted the sheep crest on the sheath, he was perplexed. Was the man royalty? When that thought crossed his mind, points of knowledge connected. He had a feeling he knew who the man before him, who scowled sourly, was. “Who the hell said, Oh, I think he’s some kind of servant?!” The man scowled like a beast, his sharp glare sweeping over the men who shrank under his gaze, plastered to the wall beside the door. All of them were much too well-dressed to be bandits. “Of all the people you could’ve taken, you brought back the worst possible one. I’ve seen this guy’s face from a distance before.” When Col looked up, he saw the man’s brown eyes were fixed squarely on him. There was no hostility or malice in them, only an acknowledgment that he was facing trouble. “So, uh”—he scratched at his head before resting his hands on his hips—“we made a mistake.” Then please let me go. Col’s thought must have reached him; the man gave a deep, deep sigh. “We don’t mean to put you in any danger…But I guess you wouldn’t agree to pretending like nothing happened after tying you up and spiriting you from the inn, huh?” It still felt like there was a large weight pressing down on his chest; Col felt nauseous when he tried to take a deep breath. But he no longer had any doubts as to who his kidnapper was. He knew Col’s face, and the displeased look he wore the second he realized who sat before him greatly narrowed down the candidates. “You…are…” There was a dull pain in the pit of Col’s stomach, and the inside of his mouth felt grossly sticky. The man held up his hand to stop him, and nodded. “You’re the Twilight Cardinal, aren’t you?” “…Heir Klevend.” The man lifted his hands to his shoulders in a comedic manner. “I bet my half sister’s painted a pretty awful picture of me for you, but I guess this isn’t the best situation for me to defend myself.” The second heir to the throne once again glared menacingly at the other men, who were desperately trying to make themselves seem invisible, before directing another heavy, disappointed sigh at the floor. “But we can’t change what’s happened. I doubt this is going to be a fun conversation, but I guess that depends on how you decide to cooperate.” Klevend jerked his chin at one of the men, who brought over a chair, and he plopped down on it. “You hungry?” The way he spoke made him sound like a mercenary captain. It did not seem food would sit well in his stomach after being punched in that exact spot, so Col asked only for water to rinse out his mouth. Klevend’s men brought over meat and bread, and Klevend busied himself with it. Those who had been standing, moping in the corner, had been sent away, one by one, with individual slaps to the head a little earlier. “Let me first say that they were apparently hoping to kidnap that guy from the Holy See.” After spending a moment with his food, the prince washed it down not with wine, but with commoner’s ale. There was a strange caginess to his words, considering how sloppy his movements were. “…You make it sound as though this has nothing to do with you.” Klevend, according to Hyland, was a two-faced snake, one who could not be trusted; the man only laughed, his shoulders shuddering as he did so. “Hmm? Well…carping’s par for the course in the royal court. Can’t help the habit of choosing my words carefully.” The way he gave an embarrassed laugh with his stern face would probably amuse Myuri, Col thought. “I didn’t give the order. You have to trust me. They cooked up their plan under the influence, and by the time they were sober, they couldn’t go back on what they planned in front of one another, so they went ahead with it. That’s all.” He picked out a piece of meat with his pinkie from between his back teeth while he spoke, which made his explanation sound all the more realistic. “’Cause they found out we have a visitor from the Holy See. And those fellows apparently thought he’d be the nastiest guy with the calmest face.” While Col was not surprised that they had been aware of Canaan’s presence, it sounded as though they were not aware what sort of person he was. It was hard, of course, to imagine someone that important would be a boy, and if there was any who fit the bill according to what they saw in their heads, the only sensible choice was Col. “It was raining, not a lot of people out on the roads, and all the strong-looking guards had left. The inn just so happened to be empty. The innkeeper drank too much that afternoon, forgot to order more, and fell asleep. It was the perfect chance for the guys to show off their pluck and outwit your buddy.” Col, too, vaguely remembered when the rope came around his stomach. That would have indeed been the perfect opportunity to kidnap him. But there was something that bothered him. “Were you…completely aware of all our movements?” Klevend narrowed an eye and stared at Col, as though trying to see through him, and then shook his head. “I wish I could say I was, but we have no idea what you were up to. A friend in the Knights of Saint Kruza let us know that someone had come from the Holy See. And when I heard that he was apparently making deals with my sister, I was shocked.” Col’s expression clouded—information on Canaan was leaking from the knights’ order. It was unlikely Rhodes was double-crossing them, but when he recalled why the prince before him had formed a faction and was acting in secret, it was not all that surprising to think the prince had collaborators within the order. “I suppose that means there are members of the Knights of Saint Kruza who are hoping for war between the kingdom and the Church.” Klevend shrugged. He did this not to avoid answering, but because it was obvious enough that he felt no need to confirm the statement. That was because the Knights of Saint Kruza was an order created to fight, and it was not so strange to think they had no place in a peaceful world. It made sense they would get along fairly well with Klevend and his followers, who had little hope of taking headship of their families and whose only hope for achievement lay in raising their banner in battle. That would mean the attacks on the knights that Rhodes had told him about were either a charade the order executed themselves or the work of an insider coordinating with Klevend. “We had a guy patiently watching my sister’s mansion, and we learned you’ve been plotting something, but we don’t know what. Then suddenly you got horses, and the whole lot of you came all the way out to Salenton. The report said you were looking for someone around the workshops, but for what?” When Klevend professed having someone watching them, Col thought it was a lie. He doubted Myuri would have failed to notice. Or perhaps he had someone on the inside of the manor walls, and he said that in order to draw attention away from them. People were often coming and going from the manor—merchants, menders, all sorts. Yet he reckoned Hyland had been on alert as well, and Klevend was no ordinary boorish insurgent, after all. “I…cannot tell you what we were doing.” “I thought so.” Klevend stirred in his chair, and Col steeled himself, ready to be hit. But the prince had done nothing but shift in his seat, and he rather seemed hurt by Col’s reaction. “Hey, c’mon, trust me at least a little bit, will you? What sort of things has my sister been feeding you about me?” Hyland had described him as a treasonous man, one who would do anything to take the throne for himself, even go so far as to foment civil war. But according to Sharon, he was more like the leader of chivalrous outlaws who saved those who had fallen through the cracks of the system. The prince before him was brazen and behaved in a crude manner, yet he chose his words with surprising care—he could easily be both. “I understand why she blew the circumstances of her birth out of proportion, and why she shows excessive loyalty to my dad and my big brother, but I honestly can’t stand how she acts like there can be no imperfections in the world. I applaud you for putting up with her.” Hyland isn’t like that, he thought, but from a distance—no, from close-up, it could certainly seem like that. The Twilight Cardinal was nothing more than a foolish big brother to Myuri, after all. “But whatever you’re doing here in Salenton can’t be that important. Our destinations are different, see. If we fought every time we ran into each other, there’d be no end to it.” Nor did Klevend seem like an imprudent tyrant. So Col was not too surprised by the next thing Klevend proposed. “I guess our meeting was God’s work, eh? What do you think—want to work with me?” He crouched forward, shrinking his larger frame down uncomfortably. It seemed as though he might open his mouth wide and swallow Col whole, but he instead held out his hand, offering what appeared to be a gentle handshake. “Would that entail you making amends with Heir Hyland?” Col did not say this because he genuinely believed it would happen; he said it to demonstrate that he would not be appeased. That was because he would never betray Hyland. “That…won’t be easy…,” Klevend said, genuinely troubled by the thought. Col could not help but smile. “I think the reason she hates me is because we’re similar.” Col was surprised to hear that, and Klevend, in turn, was surprised by his reaction. “Hey, what’s that look for? There can’t be any reason besides that.” “Well, ah…” “No matter how good at anything she was, there was no place for her in the court because of her birth. No matter how much she was betrayed in her life, she still remained the very picture of earnestness. The permanent stain of vexation she hides with that veil of loyalty to the king. By that I mean…” He paused, a sad, sympathetic look crossing his face. “She’s jealous of me. She is constantly troubled by the circumstances of her birth, and that shows in all her actions. I doubt she’ll ever admit it, but I can’t think of anything else. She’s a good person; you know that. Think about it—she’d normally be sympathetic toward me and my people, wouldn’t she?” This prince had been raised as a spare for his older brother, just in case he was needed to safeguard the royal bloodline’s succession. Those who followed him were the second and third sons of other nobles, and they were being idly kept around for similar reasons. Indeed—thinking of his circumstances alone made it somewhat easy to imagine Hyland reaching out to them and offering help. “But she may not like our methods.” “…You are trying to start a war.” Klevend calmly shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? Till the fields? The ones my dad and brother patrol on horseback?” But it seemed he had already thought of those things. “But most of the boys understand the reality of it. That if they don’t want to die like dogs, their only real choice is to work the fields.” “Then—” Col was interrupted by his sad smile. “I want to shine just once in my life. Is it wrong to wish for that?” He had wielded a sword in his hands, ridden horses, been told he may head the family one day, or at least find success in battle, all from a young age. And he had grown up believing that, only for the rug to be pulled out from under him. Just moments earlier, Klevend looked like a crude but good-natured young man; now the fires of anger burned deep within his eyes. “I know peace is better than war. We’re not bloodthirsty sellswords. But we’ve put up with all sorts of hardship just for a chance of shining in the limelight. Then before we even got a chance, the world changed. Even though I know there’s no point in clinging to nostalgia, we need some kind of catalyst to effect change and forge a new path.” His brown eyes were an awful lot like Jean’s. Though the light had long gone from Jean’s eyes, the essence was the same. A thought suddenly occurred to Col—perhaps Myuri had made the same eyes, too. While he lay sick with fever in bed, perhaps she had taken on the same look as she gazed out over the harbor in Raponell. Her keen insight had told her that her brother would be more upset about her cutting down someone with her sword than if she were to be injured in the same way. She was clever and strong, so she gave up following that path herself. But that choice had consequences—and when she could not contain herself, she instead took up the pen. Not even Jean had been able to abandon his yearning for the thrill of battle, and he began to use dangerous, banned technology to print war stories. At this point, Col had a feeling he understood why he quit Thearte’s workshop and ultimately decided to play at shepherd. One big reason he had attempted to separate himself from printing was because he spotted several bards laughing at his poetry. But Jean, in his own way, tried to give up on his dreams and desperately threw himself into another person’s life. His true misfortune was not that his dreams were dashed, but that he could not find a new way forward, which left him with few ideas besides becoming a drunkard at the Reel. And the same went for Canaan and the other archivists. They were sincere and never let the temptation of gold cloud their vision; they could have easily manipulated documents and directed a portion of the Church’s riches into their own pockets if they wished. Instead, they entrusted Canaan with their will and sent him off to the Kingdom of Winfiel because they could no longer stand idly by and simply watch. If they would not pick the wrong path, then they wanted proof that they martyred themselves on the right one. It was that thought that led Canaan to leap into a pitch-black river, only for a miraculous stepping stone to appear in the center of the current, one he had not expected. And that was where he was now. Canaan had fully expected to die when he jumped in the river, but he planted his feet firmly on the ground and leaped again with all his might. What he called for then was Col’s canonization. Col, in turn, had been overwhelmed by Canaan’s hand, his spirit. When Col thought of it that way, he realized there were many people around the world who were struggling, ensnared by fate. They were everywhere, always within arm’s reach. And Col did not even have a sure grip on Myuri’s hand at this point, either. “If we work together,” Klevend said, drawing Col out of his thoughts, “then a whole lot of people will find their happy endings. That’s how I feel about it anyway. What do you think?” Heir Klevend did not necessarily know the particulars of the Twilight Cardinal’s situation, nor did he fully grasp what was going on with Jean and Canaan. But Col had a feeling he understood why Klevend brought it up. The conflict between the Church and the kingdom was at a stalemate, and it was clear this was not a favorable situation for anyone. The Church and the kingdom were essentially black-and-white, and the conflict would not end until one had completely blotted out the other. That meant war, and Col and Hyland were fighting so desperately to avoid that. But for a great many people, their actions were getting in the way of progress. Klevend was pursuing a new way to shatter this stalemate. “Of course, I’m not asking you to betray my sister. You two should keep pursuing God’s proper teachings, and my boys aren’t opposed to that at all. They’re honest believers who go to church—they’re not barbarians or heathens.” “…What about the throne? For which you are willing to cause civil war.” Klevend’s eyes widened, and he lifted his hands. “Exactly. I’ve done what I can in all kinds of things, but the one conclusion I keep coming to is war. I want to shine brightly at least once before I give up my claim to the throne and live a normal life working in the fields or in town. And what am I supposed to do to accomplish that? It isn’t like I want to start a civil war because I can. It’s not like my family wants to keep a vice grip on this country through bloodshed. So forget about that for a second. Sounds like my sister thinks of me as a usurper starving for blood.” It was at this point that Klevend paused. It was this pause that made Col realize this young man was naturally suited to be a prince. “There are a lot of people like us who are upset about the same stuff out on the mainland. So instead of having family feuds on this tiny little island, shouldn’t we work with them to get the Church wrapped up in a big mess to wash away all the discontentment, so there isn’t any more trouble like this in the future? That’s why we have this fight between the Church and the kingdom in the first place.” Civil war could tear a country to shreds. Klevend saw it as a last resort. And if all the nobles across the world were experiencing the same thing, they could give war a different meaning. That was precisely why the conflict between the kingdom and the Church was the biggest history had ever seen. Klevend’s field of view was broad, much like Sharon’s when she flew in the sky. “You approach things with a practical mind, like a merchant, don’t you?” Col remarked. Klevend shrugged like he was casually thanking him for the compliment. But while Klevend’s thoughts did seem to make sense in a way, Col also felt that it was doing nothing more than carelessly turning a little fire into a bonfire. Was a war that spread across the entire world and involved the Church really that much better than a clash within kingdom borders? Klevend sighed, his body shrinking with the exhale, as though he had peered into Col’s mind. “I don’t think we should fight however and whenever we please, of course. The reason the kingdom and the Church are all wishy-washy at the prospect of an all-out war is because they know the tragedy that will come from it. All those bald-headed old men ever talked about was a time when it was constant war, you see. That’s why I was wondering if we could work together to plan something out.” “……” Col regarded him dubiously, and the prince heaved his sturdy shoulders. “If you raise your own flag,” he continued, “those unhappy with the Church will gather around you, kingdom or no. You and some important Church people can talk, plan out a battle somewhere. A big one, the kind sung about in epics from the time of the ancient empire. Now that the long, drawn-out war with the pagans is over, I doubt there’s anyone left who wants to wage genuine war without the prospect of gaining territory. The only ones hoping to stir up fighting now besides us are merchants who want to make some quick coin or people who made big promises and can’t back out now. That’s why there are idiots on the Church’s side, too, like the kind who kidnapped you but then sent me letters in tears because they didn’t know what to do next. The pope and the cardinals, too, have trapped themselves in their own webs of mutual interest.” Col’s gaze dropped to Klevend’s feet, and that was when he at last realized that his shoes were covered in mud. If he were to see his back, it would likely be even dirtier, covered in mud kicked up by the horses. Klevend had gotten the report and rushed over as quickly as he could. He was observing the situation in his own way, racking his mind for a way out. “But think about it: If there were a war that would leave its mark in the annals of every city, town, and village, unhappy children of nobles would give up on their dreams of living by the sword and be satisfied. And at the same time, both the kingdom and the Church could use their participation in such a big battle as pretext to pull back from the brink. It’d all end in a draw, and we’d live happily ever after.” It was a picture-perfect ideal, and Col had a feeling it was achievable. Both Eve and Myuri would insist that they would need to give both sides a justifiable reason to back down for this conflict to ever end. Amid it all, Canaan had arrived with a plan that could solve this problem without sending the kingdom and the Church to war. And with Jean at their side, their dreams could become reality. But there was no guarantee it would go well, and if it failed, their final hopes would rest on Klevend’s plan. “The problem is this will not happen naturally. Not everyone out there is as sensible as Hyland, and not everyone can stomach constant hardship and still act like they’re okay. More important, I don’t think it’s right. I think she should say and do whatever she wants to do, and say no to whatever she doesn’t.” Klevend had stopped calling her “my sister” with that undercurrent of contempt, and outright called Hyland by her name. And the woman he spoke of was one Col could easily picture in his mind. “If God made our world, we should be able to shine at least once in our lives. Don’t you think?” That was a dream of an adult who had not yet outgrown their more childish phases. Though Col could logically come to that conclusion, it made him think—if that was all it was, then what was happiness? Of course, even if Col could not immediately come to a decision regarding Klevend’s idea, he knew it was not something he could pretend to have never heard. He understood it was something he needed to consider seriously, no matter how much ruminating it took. So when he stared squarely back at Klevend, the prince slowly blinked, as though offering his thanks for listening. “I’m going to do all I can in my power to manage my followers so that you trust my words. I don’t honestly want to start a civil war just to kill my own people,” he said, then dropped his gaze to his hands. “But please don’t forget that we’re not the only ones out there in the world like this. There are tons of people out on the mainland just like us, and they’re antagonizing the Church more than we are. We probably don’t have as much time as we think we do.” What he said was similar to what Canaan had said. That was why someone needed to take the lead before chaotic fighting broke out. But Col still could not bring himself to see war as the right thing to do. And this plan would make it difficult to root out the corruption in the Church, which was the primary goal of Canaan’s plan. They had pursued Jean since Col personally considered Canaan’s plan to be the optimal solution. In fact, now that he knew that Klevend was not as evil as Hyland made him out to be, he almost wanted to ask if he would assist with Canaan’s plan. As the child of royalty, he was perfectly capable of reading and writing. By the time that thought crossed his mind, he realized he had something he needed to ask Klevend. “…If we were to resolve this conflict without causing a war, what would you do?” The prince looked as though he was staring in the face of utter defeat. He gave a troubled, tense smile. “If that happened, then…we’d probably go for broke.” That meant he would likely be taking his chances charging full tilt at thick castle walls. If that were to happen, Col would likely be standing on the opposing side, with Hyland. “Must you start a war?” If they encountered each other on the battlefield, Col had a feeling he would be asking the very same question. “What choice do we have? We’re an island, surrounded on all sides by the sea. If we can’t do it on the mainland, where else are we supposed to go?” The moment Klevend said that, a sharp shudder ran through Col’s body, as though his rear had been pricked with a needle. “Huh? Hey, what’s wrong?” The prince and his men did not hate the king as much as Hyland suggested, nor were they desperate for chaos. Which meant…yes—there was a place more suited for them. “You mentioned wanting a place to shine with sword in hand, yes?” Col asked. “Hmm?” “You would have no need to exchange blows with another if you had a place to shine with your swords.” Klevend shrugged, and Col continued. “You do not mind whether you face the Church or the king himself. Which means you do not mind if you face neither.” “Sure, but…is that possible in a war? Are we supposed to fight ghosts?” Col shook his head. Warriors did not always wield their blades in battle. “It would not be for battle. It would be for adventure.” “Hmm…?” “Before the birth of the Winfiel Kingdom, I heard that the Church’s knights and the warriors from the ancient empire were allies when they arrived on these shores.” Heir Klevend had lost his words for a moment, but he ultimately regarded Col with suspicion. “That was a long time ago, back when they said the island didn’t belong to anybody. I heard pagans did actually live here, but…But…?” At that point, the clever prince made a face as though he had found the dead in the dark. Though he certainly had coconspirators all over the country who were willing to feed him new information, he still looked shocked. “Are you talking about the continent that might exist at the edge of the sea?” It took courage to acknowledge it. That was because it was something Myuri loved to talk about, something spoken about only by those like Nordstone, who were illuminated by the madness of the moonlight. “I heard there was a speculator talking about that in the court, but…Hey, don’t tell me you seriously believe it exists?” Heir Klevend had put his intellect to work, eventually coming up with the idea of war as the most peaceable conclusion he could think of. Not only that, he had invited Col to join him as a comrade in executing his plan. In short, even if the prince’s methods were different, his end goal was not all that different from Col’s. As the conflict between the kingdom and the Church would slowly come to its conclusion in the near future, there was a very high chance that he would prove to be a valuable ally in preventing things from going in the wrong direction. But if he were to mention that he believed in the existence of the new continent, it would only invite the doubt that perhaps the Twilight Cardinal did not believe in God out of sincere faith, but because he was a fool who believed in anything and everything. Once Klevend considered him a knobheaded fool who would believe anything he heard, the valuable bond that happened to bring them together would be severed in a flash. Not only that, the expression on Klevend’s face made it clear that there was no point in denying it now. Then what was he supposed to do? He thought of Canaan, who came to his room and brought to him the plan to make Col a saint. He then recalled he had a companion, one who leaped into the frigid seas with him, did he not? “Is the one speaking of this at court a noble named Nordstone?” It seemed Klevend had not been expecting Col to breach that subject. The shocked prince nodded, despite himself. “Y-yeah, that rings a bell. A weird noble with a lot of odd rumors about him…Wait, I think I heard you paid him a visit before. Is that right?” “I had heard whisper of the new continent since before meeting with Lord Nordstone.” That was not a lie. But he decided not to mention that he did not entirely believe it, thankful Myuri was not around to sniff that out. “And I thought that perhaps the existence of a new continent may serve as the key to resolving the conflict between the kingdom and the Church. That is because they are arguing over the tithes, which the Church is using as their own reward for winning the war against the pagans. There, instead of fighting over limited portions, they may find opportunity to gain something entirely new—perhaps then this conflict can be water under the bridge.” “……” It was Klevend’s turn to take in what Col said, hesitating over whether he should say something. He looked like a barbarian ready to push forward with a rough and reckless plan, and indeed, Klevend was a realistic strategist. Col had at least been ready to show Klevend how realistic his thoughts were. “The new continent may be ridiculous sailors’ idle talk.” Col paused to swallow, and realized his mouth was dry. “But if…if there was enough evidence for us to believe in its existence…” Klevend was doubtlessly connected to similarly discontented elements on the mainland. That meant he could possibly convince all those trying to rile up the Church on the mainland to venture to the new continent together. And if they manage to undermine the supporters at their feet, then those at the top of the Church, who were predicting war, would have no choice but to change their tune, which was precisely what Canaan’s plan aimed to achieve. Col thought Canaan’s plan was marvelous, but he would be a fool to assume there was only one path up a mountain. “In that case, would you assist us?” Col had no idea if they truly had not meant to kidnap him. But at the very least, Klevend had not attempted to harm him unnecessarily and instead used the opportunity to try to win him over. And even if that were an exaggeration, he still spoke to him, hoping to find understanding. That said, it was clear Klevend did not expect the victim of a kidnapping to bring up the most ridiculous of topics. Klevend brought a hand to his mouth and hummed. “I know how I can be, but you…” He looked like he had seen a frog with five legs, but the prince, who was uncouth at first glance, seemed to have enough curiosity to consider how far that frog could go with five legs. “No, more important, the new continent? Hmm…” This conflict between the kingdom and the Church could be considered the smoldering embers of the war against the pagans. And Klevend and his ilk, who could only shine on the battlefield, were desperately trying to use those embers to make their swords shine just a little bit brighter. But the war with the pagans was over. And Col believed that meant they needed a new way to solve problems that did not involve war—one that was more suitable for a new age. “I think I underestimated you,” Klevend said. “How my head is in the clouds, you mean?” Klevend stared blankly at him for a moment before a wry smile cracked across his face. “And I’m not going to let you upstage me.” Though the genuine vexation on his face was due to how he had seriously considered working with his counterparts on the mainland to start a war on a scale no one had ever seen before, he was still self-aware enough to realize it was a plan not even for his wildest dreams, one he had to laugh at. He leaned far back in his chair, his eyes roaming the ceiling, as though looking for spiderwebs. “It’s a ridiculous idea, and…it’s honestly laughable. But an adventure is a good enough idea to make me laugh.” If he brought Myuri along to talk with Klevend, they would certainly get along, Col thought. “And that won’t put me at odds with that stubborn Hyland, will it?” The reason Col hesitated to give an answer at first was because of the globe he saw at Nordstone’s, the one that suggested the world was round. If that turned out to be a valuable clue in their search for the new continent, that would force major revisions to the Church’s doctrines and may endanger the faith itself. Hyland was a strict believer—it was unclear if she would approve of that. But much like Canaan’s project, the search for a new continent would at least let them avert an all-out war, and it would avoid a scenario where the kingdom had to surrender to the Church. And the most important thing was that if the globe did cause problems of faith, that was an arena where Col could fight. Even Myuri’s incompetent older brother could stand bravely on the battlefield of faith. “I believe it will go well.” The reply he gave was as a man of faith, who could give no definitive answers besides the righteousness of God. That brought a smile to Klevend’s face. But then he said, “She’s a real blockhead, that sister of mine. If you end up on opposite sides, you’ll find it harder than trying to persuade God himself.” He sighed. “We each have our own purposes. And you—I mean, my sister does, too.” They also had Canaan’s project to think about; there were many out there in the world who were doing their absolute best to solve their own problems, just like they were. “Right now, me and my sister’s purposes are black-and-white—they’ll never mix. But you’ve got your own weird intentions, and that could very well become the bridge that connects us.” “I hope so,” Col replied. And feeling the need to add one more thing, he continued. “But I believe this rests on whether we can find evidence of the new continent’s existence.” “Of course. But better to have alternatives than nothing at all, right?” In that moment, an image of Myuri’s face flashed in Col’s mind—of her and the knight’s tale she called a dream that would never come true. Indeed. He wanted this to be a nice alternative for their reality. He didn’t want nothing but sad smiles and dreams that would never come true. Col had more than enough reason to believe that Klevend could be a valuable ally. All he could hope for was that the prince, too, would be aware of the bond that brought them together. “There are many paths up a mountain.” “I would hope so,” Heir Klevend said as he leaned forward, extending his right hand. Col’s eyes widened in surprise, and Klevend offered a playful wink. “We don’t have any witnesses here,” he said. “So we’re not really shaking on anything in particular. But it’s good enough confirmation that we don’t hate each other.” Surprisingly, trust often came down to simple gestures like this. “O-of course.” Col reached out to shake the rugged hand. It was unfortunate that no one was around to see this, but perhaps that was good for the time being. “So…Enough fun chat about the future. We have a grim present to talk about.” “What?” Even after all they confided in each other? Curiously, Col looked at Klevend, who returned his look with an astonished one that reminded him of Myuri. “You do remember we kidnapped you, right? We haven’t solved that problem.” “Oh…” “Kidnapping you was an honest mistake, of course. We’ve got plenty of young guys who have older brothers bagging cute wives and enjoying all that nobility has to offer. Meanwhile, the second and third sons under my wing have no marriage prospects themselves and they’re desperate to stand onstage at least once in their lives. It was something they couldn’t back down from because they were competing for pride, because they were showing off to one another, but we’re getting impatient now that we’re losing sight of the future. So they’ll lose their minds if they don’t do something. That’s how they got the bright idea that this was their chance to start war between the kingdom and the Church, without thinking too hard of the consequences, obviously. That’s how they hatched this plan to grab the guy from the Holy See.” And contrary to what that illogical plan might suggest, the kidnapping went surprisingly well. Despite the target being the wrong person, of course. “We’ve managed to have a good discussion, so let’s say I just apologize and send you on your way. What happens then? Hyland hates me, loathes me, and I know she sees me as the source of all evil that’s taken root in this country, and she has a point. And if anyone were to kidnap the Twilight Cardinal now, who do you think she’d think did it?” Even if a suspect was not present at the stabbing, anyone who spouted curses and waved around a dagger would typically be considered the most likely culprit. “We need to get you back home safe. And when I say safe, I’m mostly talking about keeping my people out of harm’s way.” Though Col did not know how sizable Heir Klevend’s forces were, they would not escape a fight unscathed if Hyland, who was firmly on the side of legitimate royal authority, decided to retaliate with force. They would only assault the walls of the royal castle if they truly had no other choice and nowhere else to go. And it was very easy to imagine what Hyland might think once she received the report that Col had been kidnapped. All he had to do was recall how cold her eyes were when she heard about the attacks on the Knights of Saint Kruza and his subsequent suggestion that the culprits came from Heir Klevend’s camp. “Even if I tell you not to say anything about what happened today, others might not listen to you. It might even be the perfect excuse for the gallows.” “…Heir Hyland is a rational person.” Despite what he said, Col had no real confidence in the statement. He pictured her rising to action out of concern for Col’s safety, and that was when he realized there was someone else they needed to be more worried about. This person’s fanaticism went far beyond that of Hyland’s. He pictured crimson eyes glaring down at him, and a terrible fear shot through him, as though the ground had opened up at his feet and plunged him into the darkness. “Th-that’s right. Heir Hyland is not the person we need to worry about!” Col stood from his chair, and Heir Klevend stared at him dumbfounded, shocked by his sudden movement. “Where—where are we? Are we far away from Salenton?” It had been raining, so it was unlikely she would be able to follow by smell alone. But due to the remaining snowmelt, the roads had been soft, even if they were not overly muddy. The rain was enough to make them even more pliable, meaning those who carried him off probably left behind clear footprints or the tracks of the cart or the trail of horses. “This is one of my guys’ houses, a few hours from Salenton. You worried about the tracks or the horse prints? We’d probably only get people chasing after us in the morning. The rain stopped, but the moon’s not out. By the time the sun comes up, the shepherds will be up, and they’ll have erased all traces of this little escapade.” It was unlikely they would be pursued. By humans, at least. When that thought crossed Col’s mind, he whipped around to look out the window. Though the Kingdom of Winfiel was covered in plains, forests were often left intact surrounding noble manors, for firewood or in cases of emergencies. The manor that Sharon and Clark were planning on turning into their monastery was the same. No matter how strongly he wished for it to be raining, the silence of the end of the shower hung outside. Col gulped and strained his eyes to peer into the woods. As the darkened foliage swayed and rustled, he spotted one pinprick of light. A single owl hooted and flew off. “What’s wrong?” Klevend asked. “……” “Hey, you’ve gone white.” They already knew where he was. Myuri’s true strength and speed could carry her from Salenton to Rausbourne in an instant. And from there, she would go straight to Sharon’s house, violently demanding the eagle’s assistance. A flock of birds would then immediately take to the skies, calling the other birds around Salenton as the rain eased, conducting their search in and around the town. If he was going to hide, he would have to go underground, much like the fox family on the monastery grounds. And once Myuri and the others knew his location, this place would no longer be safe. Not for Col, of course. For Klevend and his men, even though they were not the enemy. It was better to think of them as valuable allies with the same objective—people who could help resolve the kingdom’s problems and end its conflict with the Church. “We need to r—” Col stopped himself and clamped his mouth shut. Run? On their human legs? On horseback? It would not matter how they ran—they would still leave a trail. They would be fleeing from a silver wolf and birds that ruled the sky. It was much more dangerous for them to leave the manor and split up. Though Col wanted to believe that Hyland would listen to Klevend’s excuses, he needed to keep in mind that Myuri was much more prone to flying into a rage when she heard the news that he had been kidnapped. Col was not confident he could remain calm if their positions were flipped after all. “Hey, you’re overreacting. You’re not telling me you left a trail of bread crumbs when we took you, like in those fairy tales?” Klevend asked with a lopsided smile, sensing that Col’s reaction was not normal. Col wondered how he might be able to explain, but all he could come up with was something basic. “Among my companions is a trueborn hunter, native to the deepest mountains.” That wording seemed to be particularly effective on someone who lived in a nation of plains. Klevend must have pictured a forest hermit, someone who was scarcely different from a magical witch, the sort he might hear about at a tavern. “Would this hunter be understanding about all this? Would he get that this was all a mistake? I guess we were genuinely targeting the envoy from the Holy See…” “……” If Col tried to protect Klevend and his men, there was a good chance Myuri would assume he was being forced to say that. But the more likely and more dangerous situation was that she would be so filled with rage that she would not listen to Col at all. She was clever, but she did not have the calm that her mother the wisewolf had. She may drag each and every one of Klevend’s men out into the dark of the wood before Col could say anything. Col often thought about how he only noticed Myuri’s presence when the rest of the manor was empty. What could they do? It was a bit too premature to work hand in hand with Heir Klevend, but it was clearly wrong to strike them down like common highwaymen. And more important, if Canaan’s plan did not go well, Klevend would be a powerful ally if the new continent was their last hope. And if there was anyone here and now who could help them, it was Col. “You can’t run. She will catch up to you. And if I am not with you, she will likely not listen to anything you say, and pass judgment.” Considering the incident with the Knights of Saint Kruza, it would not be surprising if the king had already issued certain orders. Even if Klevend was not so easily put to death, that was not necessarily the case for the second and third sons of lower-ranking noble houses who accompanied him. It was not entirely impossible that they could be beheaded on the spot. “And it is my companion you need to be worried about. At this rate, all of your men will be attacked without a sound from the darkness.” Klevend’s face was tense, and his gaze subconsciously flicked to the window—evidently, he was taking Col seriously. “Bring everyone inside, lock the doors, and close the windows. If we manage to calm her down a bit, we should be afforded some time to talk.” If possible, they should all gather in one spot, like the great hall. It was now, with Myuri as his enemy, that Col finally understood how valuable she was as a companion. “A lockdown, huh…But that won’t solve our problem in the end, will it? Will Hyland forgive me once she sees my face? Even with you vouching for me?” Of course she will, is what he first thought, but he considered how his feelings were not necessarily shared by Sharon and Hyland. Col could not say with complete certainty that what Klevend feared would not come to pass. “Could I tie you up again and go with the classic, If you want this guy to live—you know?” “But that would guarantee we would never be able to cooperate…” “If nothing else, you trust me, right?” As Klevend’s brown eyes bored through him, Col felt as though he understood why so many people had flocked to his side. “I could act bad, and it would make sense to show that I’m just an evil person to the core.” Perhaps it was a joke, but Col also knew that the common perception of the prince was not a bad one. A band of men who were willing to cause a civil war purely for self-interest would be treated very differently. “And in exchange for your freedom, I’ll request leniency for my men. If my sister truly is a servant of God, she can’t go back on promises she’s already made.” Klevend’s perspective was much broader than Col’s. If the mastermind behind a civil war escaped beyond the kingdom’s borders, it was clear that a witch hunt for any of his followers who remained behind would take place. And even Col did not think that was right. Col was very well aware that what Klevend and his men were doing was not good, yet he could not say that they did not have their reasons; had they successfully managed to kidnap Canaan, he could not see them doing anything bad to him. It was very likely that all they were planning to do was threaten him, tell him that the relationship between the kingdom and the Church was awful, then let him go. Even if they should reasonably be punished, he did not think a beheading was an appropriate punishment. But even if it was an act, to tie Col up and take him hostage would only turn the gap between Hyland and Klevend into an impassable abyss. “There must be a better way,” Col said to Klevend. The leader of the chivalrous scoundrels shrugged. “You’re a good guy,” he said, his tone teasing. Perhaps he sounded that way because he had already made up his mind. But his good graces only served to spur on Col’s temper. “But if we don’t do something, we will never resolve this misunderstanding!” They had their own reasons for what they did, and that was not something others could disregard. The conflict between the kingdom and the Church was catching countless people in its wake, whether or not they liked it. And Col knew that if he could not retain an open mind for others’ circumstances, then he could no longer keep his faith. “But what are we supposed to do?” That was the question. Heir Klevend and his men were now suffering the consequences of their actions. That he kidnapped Col was a fact. That he and his men were considered a sinister group was also a fact. Not many would be satisfied with the excuse that the kidnapping was a mistake. Which meant… They had to make it so it was not a mistake. “What if we pretend I came to you because I wanted to speak with you?” “Uh…Hmm?” Klevend’s thick eyebrows knit together. “If we say I came here of my own will, Heir Hyland would lay down her arms.” When Col thought he saw the tension leave Klevend’s eyebrows, he realized the prince was looking at him in disbelief. “For what purpose? To betray my sister?” That would look to be the case. He would have had to been in secret communication with Klevend for this excuse to make sense. But Col, of course, did not want to be thought of as a traitor to Hyland. And perhaps it was arrogant of him to assume so, but he did not think Hyland would believe him. That was how Klevend saw his half sister’s disposition, after all. But Col did not flinch at the prospect, because he felt there was something along this line of thought. He felt like he saw stepping stones atop a river that pushed all toward a bad ending. “What if my objective was to seek reconciliation between you and Heir Hyland?” He threw a stone in the dark, hoping to find the next landing. It would certainly not be out of the blue if he had been secretly planning on meddling in that manner. “Hmm…Is that something you’d sneak away to do? No matter how many arrangements you’d made with me, you’d probably take more deliberate steps before meeting. Especially since I don’t know how you’d sneak past this powerful, terrifying companion of yours and how worried about you she apparently is.” “Oh.” Klevend was right. Col did not need to say precisely how worried Myuri would be if he suddenly vanished from the inn. Klevend did not seem particularly enthused because he was telling him not to worry about it anymore. It was as though he was saying that he was meant to be blamed in this situation, that whatever happened to him was not something Col should fret over. Though Hyland and Klevend were only half-siblings, it was in this regard that Col was starting to see the same blood manifesting in the prince. “I need…a reason…for why…I’d come here…myself!” Col said, spurring his mind into action. What would be a good reason for this situation? Klevend and his men could not escape, and if a face-off with Hyland and her people was inevitable, Col needed a good enough reason that could allow them both to sheathe their blades. He needed a legitimate reason for suddenly leaving the inn and spending time with Heir Klevend, who was supposedly their enemy. He needed a plausible reason that could explain this convoluted secret meeting. “Please think of something! You have your own companions, don’t you?” Klevend never referred to those who followed him as his inferiors. He was second in line for the throne, perhaps the third most powerful person following the king and the heir apparent, yet he came running, boots muddied, the moment his men called him in when things took a nasty turn. He was not a bad person. Col was humming in thought when Klevend finally sighed and said, “I feel like our positions are reversed…All right, sure. I’ll do this for the guys.” Klevend gave a strained smile, then hunched over, placing his hand to his chin. “Right. Why were you in Salenton in the first place?” “…Hmm?” “You said you were looking for someone, right? Couldn’t we use that as an excuse? For example…maybe I reached out because I had an important lead.” It was a good idea, but there was a big problem with that. “We have already found him, however.” “Oh, godda—” —Dammit, is what he was going to say. “But we did encounter a problem. This individual had his own reasons to give up on the future. We need his help, but he has absolutely no motivation.” “Hmm…What if we were the ones who could help solve his problems?” “……” “Nah, can’t be that convenient, can it? Forget about it.” “……” Col could not answer, because the stone he had thrown in the dark had collided against something with a loud clatter. “…No.” “Hmm?” “It can. It can be.” It was Klevend’s turn for his eyes to go wide. “Don’t be silly. You don’t have to say things just to make me feel better.” “No! It can be that convenient! It can!” Col shot from his chair and shook Klevend’s shoulders. “Wait a moment…Yes, that’s right. That’s right! Why didn’t I think of this? I should have thought of you straightaway when I heard Mister Jean’s story.” “…What?” “Both this artisan and you need glorious battle.” Klevend gave Col a dubious look. Col tried to explain himself, but his thoughts had not yet solidified, and he felt as though he was simply splashing about foam when he tried to grasp something solid. Jean’s and Klevend’s stories could be tied together with the prospect of war. But for what reason would Col have disappeared from the inn without a single word to Canaan, Hollande, or even Myuri? He needed a convenient excuse that coherently tied everything together. “This artisan wanted to stand on the battlefield. But he has no physical strength, so he tried to be a part of it through song and poetry.” He was unsure if he explained it properly, but Klevend gave an understanding nod. “Some of the guys are like that. Nobles tie their souls to battle. And if you’re born with a weak body, that’s your only choice. Which means…maybe you wanted to introduce us to the artisan? To show him the hope of causing a war? But I guess that’s, uh—” “Strange, I think.” Col was indeed working with Hyland to prevent a war. But it was not the wrong approach. That he wanted Canaan’s proposed project to take form was not wrong. That was why he then reached out to Klevend and his men, their supposed enemies, to get Jean back on his feet. That sounded reasonable enough. But that would mean changing course and actively trying to start a war, which he had been firmly against until this point. If he truly did not care how he came across, he would not have accepted Canaan’s wild proposal or considered canonization. Because if they indeed succeeded in making him a living saint, that would solve all their money problems. The restoration of the monastery grounds and keeping it running would be trivial concerns. With Col’s sainthood and Jean’s help, printing all the copies of the scripture they wanted was not a difficult prospect at all. Which meant that if he was deliberately holding a secret meeting with Klevend, it would either have to be for reasons that surpassed Canaan’s proposals or for something that involved both of them. And then there was Myuri. Why would Col leave the inn without telling Myuri? That was the biggest point of contention. This was different from how he kept quiet about the globe, one that showed the true form of the planet, that he saw at Nordstone’s manor. Because this would mean he was making big decisions on this journey without her. When he thought about how much the prospect would hurt her, his heart ached like a blade had sliced through him. Still, it was Hyland who valued Col’s relationship with Myuri more than anyone else. If Col was unable to successfully explain himself to Myuri, she would immediately sniff out his deception and would not pay his excuses any heed. That would, in short, lead straight to Klevend’s execution. “Either way, you needed a story of a gallant battle in order to cheer up that artisan. You decided to reach out to us because you heard we were planning to start a war,” Klevend said, arranging his thoughts. “That would be like trying to fit a big, round fruit into a small, square box. It looks like it might fit, but it won’t. And just what kind of war are we planning anyway?” Indeed—what sort of war? A fight that was showy enough to convince Jean to join them, something big enough to ignore Canaan’s plans, something clandestine enough that he had to act without telling Myuri. Could whatever he came up with answer to all three of those factors? “First, considering what I’ve heard you’ve been getting up to, it can’t be a real war. And that already makes this tough.” “Yes…Yes, you are correct.” A flawed, exiled prince returning to his homeland to take back the throne at the end of a long and arduous journey was one of the most popular tales in any tavern, but to suggest actually playing that out was a bit too unnatural. Because that ran contrary to their goal of asking for Jean’s help. Perhaps Klevend was right—maybe to play out a little scene in which Col was tied up again, steeling themselves for however Hyland and the other royals may condemn Klevend, was all for their sake. But if that were to happen, it was very likely that Klevend and his men would never step foot in their homelands again. And Col did not think that was right. “Twilight Cardinal, I know what kind of person you are. And you’ve learned what kind of person I am from me, not from my sister,” Klevend said, straightening his hunched-over back. The flash of hope he had seen had sunk into the dark torrent of the river. “If we’re putting on a show, we should do it before we get surrounded. And if Dad…If the king sends the royal army, there’s nothing we can really do.” He was right. Col watched Klevend stand; the only reason he stuck to rolling thoughts and ideas through his mind was because it was Klevend and his men who would be put in mortal danger. Only Col had the leisure of thinking, as he was the only one whose safety was guaranteed. And Klevend’s idea would explain everything, nor would it hurt Myuri. “Sorry if we end up tying you up over and over, though.” Col tried to laugh in response, but he was not sure if he succeeded. Klevend scratched at his head and turned to leave the room. The breadth of his shoulders was wide—he was a knight who had protected and was responsible for a great many people. As Col grasped at the crest of the Church around his neck, a symbol for which he was supposed to feel reverence, Klevend spoke again. “I think it’ll help ease their minds, but maybe I’ll write a letter to my sister to tell her that you’re okay, and…Hey, what’s wrong?” His hand hovered over the door as he turned to look back at Col, and for a moment, he was taken aback. Col stood, as though only partially listening to what Klevend was saying. His eyes were fixed squarely on one thing in the room, and he could not peel them away through his own will. He was looking at a particular piece of furniture, one that was a staple in noble houses. It was something often found in cold stone buildings, not only to keep the chill from seeping in through the walls, but also to show off one’s family’s glory to guests. “…What’s wrong with the tapestry?” The tapestry was woven with a great assortment of colored threads and depicted a specific scene. Many knights rode on horseback, their spears pointing at one another, fighting before a castle. But it was not a bloody scene of war, and there was an odd sense of spectacle to it. There were musicians playing trumpets behind the knights, and there were women holding flowers around them. Atop the castle stood the king, the queen, and other distinguished individuals, and colorful banners flew around them. Because this was an event for knights, modeled after war— Col remembered what Myuri spoke of. It was a battle for knights, held as a flashy festival. “A jousting tournament.” That was where all their answers lay. “It can work.” “What?” Klevend looked between Col and the tapestry once, twice. “It can work,” Col repeated. “I had an extreme reason for coming to see you here.” As though God led me here, he did not say. Canaan would have said something like that, however, but not even Canaan waited patiently for the word of destiny to come to him. He had marched forward on his own two legs and found his own path. Even when Myuri gave up on her dream of wielding a sword in battle, she found a place to write down her dreams on paper. That meant Col should not give up, either. Those predisposed to thinking only in ideals had to occasionally mix in reality. Otherwise it would be like trying to fit a large, round fruit into a square box, or like Myuri trying to fit an entire feast into her mouth. “I have a problem I need to solve. And at the same time, the feud between you and Heir Hyland is a loss for the kingdom. In accordance with God’s teachings, I am obligated to ask you to reconcile. I will not allow you two to sever ties.” Klevend drew up his shoulders and objected with a voice much too quiet for his stature. “I’m telling you, she’s the only one who thinks we’re feuding—” “A trivial point!” Col snapped, and began going through his plan from the beginning. The key was a jousting tournament. With that in place, Canaan and Myuri would leap from Jean and onto the tournament, and its excitement would reach Klevend, too. It should neatly tie everything together. “There was…a specific reason…why I had to come here.” Col began to speak of himself as though he were someone else. Klevend let go of the door and sighed. “Are you gonna tell me?” The moment Klevend took his seat, he raised his hand to ask a question, as he must have done plenty of times as a child to his tutors. While Col was in the Salenton inn, one of Klevend’s men came to him out of sight of everyone else to make contact. It was a very dangerous encounter, considering their positions, so they orchestrated a plan that made the innkeeper think the inn was being robbed, all to avoid the small chance the incident would spiral into rumor. He apologized for the terrible worry he caused everyone. Especially to Myuri—he was ready for whatever complaints she had for him… After writing that all down in a letter, he handed the message and a handkerchief he so happened to have on him to one of Klevend’s men, who took the night roads back to Salenton. If Myuri was lurking nearby, she would notice his scent, and if she was sharpening her fangs back in Salenton, then she should get the message. Either way, she would know that he was safe. When Col told Klevend of the plan, Klevend immediately folded his large warrior’s form into a ball and groaned, but eventually he said, “This seems to have a better chance of success than making you a hostage…” Col declared that, if worse came to worst, he would stab his own throat in order to save Klevend and his men, and Klevend clapped him on the back with a taut smile. Though he doubted the door would be torn down and the manor mobbed by soldiers that night, he still slept on the ground with Klevend’s men in the great hall. Col was on edge, of course, and awoke at the slightest sounds, but he finally started to relax as dawn broke. He went to a window on the second floor to see how things were outside. It was humid due to the rain from the previous night, and as he breathed white puffs into the purple sky, a single, beautiful eagle came and landed on the windowsill. “Thank you…for the trouble.” The feathers over eagle-Sharon’s body fluffed briefly before deflating in a sigh. “How…is Myuri?” “That’s your first question?” Her beak would never bend, but it almost seemed as though it curved in a smile. “I think I’ve worried her terribly…” Sharon blinked, then tilted her head to the left, to the right. “It’s almost impossible to tell if a wolf is smiling or growling.” She meant that, either way, when her fangs were bared, the corners of her mouth always pulled upward. “Hyland and the rest of them will be here in the afternoon. You’ll see how she is yourself,” Sharon said, peeking into the room past him. “Doesn’t seem like you’re being treated badly.” “No. Everyone has been very kind.” She gave him a flat look. “It seemed they got the wrong person to begin with.” “And is that excuse going to fly?” Sharon’s tone brought about images of Hyland’s stern attitude. “It will.” “Hmm?” “They say the ground hardens after it rains.” Sharon turned to see the dawn breaking through the rain clouds. “You did help us at least once, after all.” “And now, all I am doing is getting your help.” It would be a lie to say there was no humility in his statement; Sharon turned a rather sharp gaze toward him. “You sure are. I was ready for bed when that dog came bounding in. Can you imagine how hard it was to keep this away from Clark?” Col could see it clearly in his mind. “I offer you my sincerest apologies again, but I think this will solve the problems with the monastery. You will forgive me if it does, won’t you?” “……” Sharon stared at him for a good while, before she eventually spread her wings. “I’m expecting a divine miracle.” Then she flew away. It was not long afterward that there came a knock on the door, and Klevend poked his head inside. “Sorry. Were you in the middle of morning prayer?” “Oh, no. There was a simply beautiful eagle at the windowsill, so…” Klevend craned his neck, then gave an impressed hum. “Heard stories about saints like that,” he said. “There were priests who went around proselytizing to birds, sheep, even snakes and spiders.” As embarrassing as it was, the casual remark reminded Col of Canaan’s plan. The plan Col had in mind, the one that would neatly tie everything together, only left out Canaan’s proposal for Col’s canonization. No matter how much he thought, that was the only thing that stood out; yet that was in part because it was such a big deal, yes, but also because he had something else in mind for that. He could picture Klevend and Hyland setting aside their differences and shaking hands. But the thought of him being worshipped as a saint was something he could not only not picture, but was not something he could earnestly think of favorably. Of course, he knew this was not a decision he had to make depending on whether he liked the idea, so he decided to seriously consider it once all this had died down. “Anyway, I’ve woken up the guys downstairs, and they’re getting ready. They should be all cleaned up and ready when my sister’s forces arrive.” They needed to act not as besieged bandits, but as nobles facing off against other distinguished individuals. “Looks are important when it comes to battle.” Klevend was large, with a thick beard, very much the picture of a bandit leader—it made perfect sense when he said so. “Well, no use worrying any more than we already have. Get something to eat.” He clapped Col’s shoulder like an old friend, then turned to look out the window, at the path winding down the gentle slope. Just as Sharon said, it was once the sun passed its zenith in the sky that upon that very path marched an entourage, headed by a horse clad in metal dress. “Chins up, boys. We have the Twilight Cardinal on our side!” That was Klevend’s manifesto, one that caused a strained smile to jump onto Col’s face, but this was a life-and-death situation for them. This was essentially a real war. All of them wore serious expressions. Even the ones who had gotten embroiled in a contest so fierce that it ended up with Col in ropes—their cheeks were bruised, which meant Klevend certainly had given them a piece of his mind—were among them. Klevend had said that all of them should shine at least once in their lives. Col agreed. And he was no less nervous than the rest of them. That was because he could not picture what sort of faces Hyland and Myuri would be wearing. “Let’s go.” Col pushed open the manor’s double doors, and a flood of midday sun poured into the great hall. But he marched forward against the flow, and once his eyes grew used to the light, he saw them. “So you didn’t run.” Though she was not dressed in full plate armor, Hyland wore an iron helm, bracers, boots with spurs; the broad sword at her hip was likely anything but ceremonial. Behind her stood several dozen foot soldiers. “Of course we didn’t. We have no reason to,” Klevend replied, once he saw that all his men were out of the manor. “His Majesty has issued a decree.” Hyland jerked her chin, and Hollande, who had been waiting by her side, unfurled a piece of parchment and held it up to them. Col and Klevend and Klevend’s men could not read it from where they were, of course, but they could see the red stamp on it. “You are to be arrested once your insurrection is confirmed.” Behind Hyland were a dozen or so horses, and foot soldiers clad in armor and brandishing spears outnumbered the horses by almost three times. Even foot soldiers could reach this place from Rausbourne if they marched overnight, but it was more likely that Hyland used her royal power to raise the troops of nobles in the Salenton area. But Myuri was nowhere to be seen. Col had been convinced she would be here, eyes wide and upturned, hand on the sheath of her sword, but he did not see her. Both Canaan and Le Roi and the others were absent as well, and that worried him deeply. “Insurrection? Then there won’t be a problem here,” Klevend said, glancing at Col. “The Twilight Cardinal and I spent all last night having a good talk. I didn’t know how things were going to turn out, you see. I apologize for keeping the meeting secret.” Hyland’s expression did not change at all upon hearing that; she turned her attention to Col. “Are you okay?” Her tone was not casual like it typically was; Col found himself straightening upon hearing the hard tone of her voice. But now was not the time to be scared. “Yes. His Highness and I had a very productive talk.” Hyland nodded and rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. “The Twilight Cardinal has been busily engaged on behalf of the kingdom. Have you anything to say with regards to kidnapping him from Salenton?” All those standing behind her visibly readied themselves for battle. Those standing behind Col and Klevend were clearly spooked by this, but Klevend did not even flinch, of course, and Col intended to keep a brave face. Col took a deep breath and spoke. “It seems there has been a misunderstanding.” He took a step forward. “A misunderstanding?” Hyland furrowed her brow and turned her attention to Col. That was the first time she had ever looked at him that way. “Heir Hyland. Did you receive a report regarding the problem we faced once we arrived in Salenton?” Hyland nodded carefully. “I did. You found the artisan, but he was going to need convincing in order to secure his help.” “Yes. And so meeting Heir Klevend was our answer to that.” Then Klevend cleared his throat and interjected, “I happened to hear what people have been whispering about in Salenton. Sounded like people thought the attack on the Knights of Saint Kruza was our fault, so I sent my guys to say hi.” His wording was just vague enough to make it seem as though it was not a clear lie, but due to Klevend’s rough speech, it sounded plausible enough. “But let’s forget about the knights for now. That won’t get us anywhere.” “Then what?” The Twilight Cardinal had been taken away by the prince who many believed was more than willing to start a civil war. The situation could not be explained away by simple logic. That conviction was clear in Hyland’s eyes. She obviously appeared worried for Col, but it seemed more like she was being dragged along by her yearslong feud with Klevend instead. But if Col could explain this situation well, then the two of them could reconcile. He took a deep breath and said, “Heir Klevend’s cooperation is essential in obtaining Mister Jean’s help.” “…?” Throughout their conversation, Hyland’s frown had only grown deeper, yet she seemed about to recoil because she was aware that his idea was going to be beyond her imagination. But a large, round fruit could still fit perfectly in a square box. “I was wondering if we could hold a jousting tournament.” It was a festival for battle that showed off all the hard work that knights and those who wished to be knights went through every day. It was something he originally would have never even considered, yet the seed of the idea had remained rooted in his mind thanks to Myuri. “Jousting? But, Col, you—” Hyland had likely not considered that at all. As he caught glimpses of her normal self, he spoke quickly, getting in his say while he could, and talked in the most exaggerated manner he could muster. “I think the festivities will be delightful. Because we all know what sort of rumors there are surrounding Heir Klevend in this country. Do you understand how many people will be enthralled to see if you or the first prince can land a hit on him?” This shameless idea invoked what Le Roi originally spoke to Col about. All eyes were on the Twilight Cardinal these days—if he were to publish a book reprimanding the Church, it would carry an unbelievably high price tag. Such an idea would have never come from within Col’s own mind. But the world’s attention was, at the end of the day, still drawn to the vulgar. “And it is not only Heir Klevend. Everyone here has trained day in and day out, adopting manners befitting a knight. All they want is place to show off all they have achieved. Is that not right?” Hyland, of course, knew of their situation. She could not be unsympathetic. Klevend himself had said that Hyland was simply being stubborn. “It would be an event that would go down in history. And of course! We will need a pen to record all the knights’ valiant battles.” Jean’s interest had been piqued by Myuri’s status as knight, which meant that he would doubtlessly be drawn in by this as well. The royal family could officially commission him to put the event into writing. And in exchange, he could perhaps lend them his knowledge… And in the worst-case scenario, if Jean did not offer his help, this plan had the power to push the scripture copy project forward regardless. Because— “And why don’t we hold the tournament on the grounds of the new monastery?” Hyland no longer had the words to respond. Her eyes remained rounded as she stared at him. “The manor was said to once house famous knights who hailed from the ancient empire. I believe a lively event would be perfectly fitting. Countless bards would compete to sing about it, and it will become a place of renown throughout the kingdom. A great many pilgrims will flock to its doors, and festival-lovers throughout the country will generously fund the event.” It was a rare opportunity to watch history unfold around the so-called rebel prince said to be the mastermind behind an insurrection against the protectors of the throne. And it would not be a bloody war that would upturn the lives of regular citizens—it would be a jousting tournament, one gilded by flowers and trumpets. There was no stage more suitable that could offer guiltless enjoyment, and every noble throughout the country would want to take part in this legendary event. “I believe it will also bring in enough money to allow us to restore the monastery beautifully. The mountain of donations will be enough for us to shape it as we wish.” The mountain of donations would serve as the funds that would pay for the labor for making copies of and distributing the scripture, even if they could not secure Jean’s help. And if they did get Jean’s help, then nothing could stop them. “However—” Col cut himself off, his torrent of words finally coming to a stop. Why did he spend an entire night at Heir Klevend’s house in such a friendly manner? Why was it impossible that Heir Klevend was an agent of rebellion? What Col said had been explanation enough at this point, but it was likely that Hyland was firm in her assumption that the villainous Klevend was putting words in the kind and sweet Twilight Cardinal’s mouth. That was because there remained the question of why he vanished from the inn, keeping his destination a secret from even Myuri. But Hyland had already realized that path was closed. Because she was very well aware, perhaps even more than Col, how much passion burned in Myuri for knights. “But as Heir Klevend said, there is much distrust between our parties. Only God knows how this will turn out. We must conduct these talks carefully and logically. We must not allow our emotions to sweep us away, and even if it does end in a permanent severing of ties, we must not allow grudges to remain and fester.” Hyland’s expression grew sourer and sourer. It was all perfectly sound logic, yes, but they could both picture the face of one who would attempt to cast that all aside. “But considering the topic, the prospect is a delightful one, is it not?” Col thought he heard the forest brush rustle a short distance away; he deliberately kept his gaze from drifting in that direction and continued. “That rambunctious girl will try to make this a reality, regardless of the realities. Even if she ends up forcing me to give in to Heir Klevend’s demands.” He doubted Myuri was that much of a child, but there were plenty of prior incidents that made him unable to say it was impossible. And so, unfortunately, Myuri had to take the blame here. If she were here, it was almost certain she would be unable to calmly handle the negotiations over organizing a jousting tournament. Her eyes would gleam, she would stand on her toes, and he could even see her with her ears and tail flitting about, even when they should be hidden. And if, on the off chance things did not work out with Heir Klevend, Col would have no confidence in himself to make rational decisions. He would go along with anything just to prevent the light from being snuffed out of her eyes. Hyland could picture this well. “I believe you can see the very same, Heir Hyland. How she would whine and complain and do whatever it takes to keep the plan from falling apart, how even if it ultimately did not work out, she would beg to hold a tournament of our own instead.” And Hyland, who was especially sweet on Myuri, would start to think of even more unnecessary steps to obtain the necessary funds even when she was already strapped for coin. Of course, whether this sort of future was unavoidable did not matter. It held enough weight in this particular situation, and more important, it was convincing for Hyland. All sorts of things could explain why the Twilight Cardinal vanished from the inn. If the truth was not clear to anyone but God, then he had to pick the explanation that came with the greatest shock and joy. “—You…” Though Hyland was at last regaining her composure, her expression suggested she was still not yet back on firm ground as she spoke. “You…truly—” Hyland did not have the words for the swirl of emotions in her chest. But Col did not think what she held within her was a bad thing. “I take full responsibility for my selfish actions. But as one who sympathizes with your hopes of spreading God’s righteous teachings, I say to you this…” Col turned aside to take Klevend’s rugged hand, and walked forward. Though neither Hyland nor Hollande moved, the soldiers behind them flinched, and there came the clatter of metal on metal. Col brought Klevend before Hyland, and Hyland gave Col a deep frown. Col, however, could already tell—she was doing her best to put on the biggest frown she could muster. Perhaps she had been doing so from the beginning. “Those bound by blood should be on good terms.” That was not something one should say to grown-ups, and in their case in particular, this was no business for anyone outside the royal family. But the two of them most certainly had the sense to realize that if they had the power to do anything about it, they would have done so long ago. All Col had to do was recall the standoff between Master Crafter Thearte and Hollande, and how it was consequentially solved. Col was not as cute as Myuri, but he was certainly just as innocent. Perhaps the two of them had been waiting for a chance to reconcile, much like the kingdom and the Church. And if Col could serve as that chance, he would not mind being scolded for meddling afterward. “And now, please shake on your reconciliation.” Col had played the part of mediator plenty of times back at the bathhouse in Nyohhira, between Myuri and the other village children. The faces Hyland and Klevend wore were perfect projections of those children, and they both turned away in a huff. Yet they continued to glance at each other, trying to gauge the other. Col looked between the two of them, as though silently offering to listen to all their grievances. Perhaps satisfied with that, Klevend extended a hand first. “I don’t really have anything against you.” It was only for a moment that Col thought it was something high-handed a big brother would say. “But I can’t really say I was much of a brother.” Col knew not how the two of them got along as children. But this was not an impassable gap. Hyland stared at Klevend’s hand, then turned to Col again. “…I may hate you forever.” Her serious blue eyes still fixed on Col, she grasped Klevend’s hand. “I wish you’d given me time to prepare for this emotionally.” They both gripped each other’s hand, and perhaps due to the difference in weight, Hyland was the only one who moved slightly with the motion. And when the shell came off, what emerged was a troubled smile. “Our siblings are going to be shocked.” “…To think, a jousting tournament…” Klevend was rebellious to the core; he was grinning from cheek to cheek, evidently pleased by the prospect of shocking the other royals. The more earnest Hyland was rather deflated, worrying over how this incident might appear. “What? Your stock with the people will shoot right up if I were to bow my head like I’m supposed to. Sounds like everything’s going to go well to me.” When she heard that, Hyland’s frown only deepened. “This is why I hate you.” Klevend’s grin only grew, and Hyland let her shoulders fall. But their hands remained grasped in the handshake, and the soldiers in both camps seemed relieved that this would not end in a fight. “So, ah, Heir Hyland…,” Col began. Though this matter had been appropriately settled, he still had work to do. “Where is Myuri?” Hyland, who was wiping at the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes—perhaps from the lifting of the weight that had weighing on her for many years—smiled at him, as though getting revenge. “I think you should be upset.” “……” All Col could do was give a half-hearted smile in return; Hollande, who stood beside her, looked at him like an older relative disappointed in his recklessness. Sharon had not told him about Myuri, either. The foliage in one spot of the forest was still rustling, and Col straightened himself as he glanced in that direction from the corner of his eye. This had to be what it felt like to venture into battle. It would have been much more reassuring if Myuri were with him, but when that thought crossed his mind, Col realized how much of a fool he was. That thought brought a smile with it. But in the moment he stepped forward, not toward the guillotine but toward the maw of a wolf, he truly did wish he had Myuri by his side. If she were with him, he doubted he would be afraid even if he were headed into real battle.