Worion rushed forward to pull me to my feet. “My apologies! I have a habit of getting overly impassioned.” To the startled priests he said, “Very sorry that I disrupted your concentration. Please, take a break.”
The priests who’d been caught up in my fall bowed to us and then left, quickly replaced by the next batch.
“Er, I’m not sure what to say. That was…unbecoming of me.” The head scholar laughed awkwardly. We moved our conversation to a side room with a little more space. I had lit a fire under Worion by bringing up the theory of heliocentrism, simply in the course of small talk, when what I really wanted to get into was learning the orcish tongue. It was a hard subject to broach to a high-ranking priest of a faith that saw all orcs as enemies. Their texts preached: Orcs are idiots, beasts that can’t speak as men. If I suddenly said, “I’m trying to communicate with an orc,” I had no idea how he would react.
I was a little impatient at how enthusiastic he was about this other topic, but I still explained the Copernican system as best I could.
Worion said, “I see! So where you come from, the stars do not circle your world. Rather, your world makes its rounds around the sun.”
“That’s what I learned in school.”
“I must ask about your schools! But first, about this theory…”
With his burning curiosity, this man could have become a top researcher in my world.
I cut in, “Does this world believe that the stars orbit this planet, then?”
“Yes, that’s right. It’s written in scripture.”
Scripture, eh? It would probably be difficult to convince him of concepts that went against scripture.
He went on, “I’ve never thought to doubt it. Who would think that we were the ones traveling through the heavens? Hmm…but if you consider the movement of the planets, then certainly…”
Worion suddenly fell silent, deep in thought. I had been left on the wayside, forced to simply watch the ceremony as the many priests swapped positions to inject mana or head for the break room. I was getting bored by it already, and Worion didn’t seem like he was coming back from his reverie.
“Oi! Paper! Bring me paper!” he suddenly cried out, having evidently made it back from his inner space. A boy off to one side, likely an apprentice, produced a parchment and pen form and reverently offered them. Upon receiving them, Worion set to writing feverishly, frequently dipping the pen into the inkwell the boy held for him.
“Now deliver this to our astronomy division. Tell them it’s urgent.”
“Right away!”
The boy took the freshly inked paper and was off like a rocket.
“Are the scriptures not absolute?” I asked Worion.
“Well, the scriptures are a collection of God’s teachings, but while God’s teachings are absolute, the scriptures themselves were written by human hands. There are, perhaps, some mistaken accounts, and it is our duty as scholars to correct them.”
His stance on scripture was more flexible than I’d anticipated. Perhaps it would be all right, then, to discuss orcish language.
Almost casually, I asked, “Incidentally, are there any scholars who specifically study orcs?”
“Why orcs?”
“To win a war, you must first know the enemy. Is the study of orcs prohibited?”
“No, it isn’t…but they are simply unclean life-forms. No one would research them by choice. In the past, an excellent study was done on their anatomy, and a few of our priests are researching the tools they make. His Majesty has given us a direct order to investigate their weapons, you see, but that black powder of theirs is an enigma, and there are a number of parts to their weapons that our blacksmiths cannot reproduce.”
“What about their words? Is anyone researching their language and writing system?”
The head priest’s usual serene expression suddenly disappeared. “They have no language,” he said levelly. “Hence, no one studies it.”
This change in attitude was unsettling, but I decided to persist just a little bit more.
“That can’t be true. Look how they coordinate their forces. That would be impossible without a common tongue.”
“Don’t be so sure. Many beasts and birds act in packs and flocks, and they have no spoken language. The same goes for orcs.” Even as he said this I got the sense he wasn’t entirely convinced by his own words. “Hero, the scriptures clearly state that orcs have no intellect and thus no language.”
“You just said there could be mistakes in the scriptures. Isn’t it a scholar’s duty to prove mistakes weren’t made?”
Worion began to look bitter, as if his very faith were being challenged. He declared, “On that matter, there is no room for debate. The scriptures are correct.”
Still, I suspected he held more complex thoughts on this matter than his declaration would have me believe. The religious correctness he spoke of was a different kind of correctness than empirical truth. Meaning that orc language studies were prohibited for some reason. It didn’t seem like a good idea to keep pushing the topic.
“Then I’m sure the scriptures are right,” I said. “I apologize for taking your time with such pointless questions.”
“Oh, no, our discussion was very worthwhile. Please tell me more about your world when you have the chance.”
We parted on good terms.
It was nothing but boring days for a long while after that. Once a day, I would look in on the ceremony to make sure it was going well, not that I could actually tell. It was just about the formalities. After my inspection, I would meet with Worion and hear his report, but the reports were always the same. “Going steady. Nothing out of order.”
Once every five days, I would write a similar message to be delivered to the capital.
I’d been given the job just in case something unforeseen were to happen, but perhaps also because I was seen as having too much time on my hands. This role was too boring for someone who had a proper job to do, and it would be a waste to use them here.
I had seen everything the fortress had to offer, and I itched for some fresh way to kill my remaining time there. Worion would occasionally come to see me, and I’d tell him about my world. I didn’t mind talking about it, but his insatiable appetite for knowledge was exhausting. He’d always press a matter to the point where I didn’t know the answer.
Take television, for example. I only knew how to operate a TV, but had no idea how it worked. Each time I spoke with someone like Worion, I would be reminded just how little I actually knew about my own world. Eventually, he realized I was no scientist, and he finally stopped asking the really deep questions.
I did make one delightful discovery at the fortress, however. After searching every nook and cranny of the place, I finally managed to find a few anthills. One of the ant tribes seemed fond of attacking the others. Even though it was winter, each day its soldiers energetically ventured out to plunder. They would win or lose their battle and return home, and I never grew tired of watching.
This day they must have won because each returned to their nest carrying a round cocoon-like trophy. The way they carried their spoils in single file made it seem like a victory parade.
“Hero…umm, are you free?”
A soldier had timidly addressed me as I stared absentmindedly at the ants. I saw he was the same one who had been my guide about the fortress.
I stood, straightening my posture to look more dignified.
“Yes, what is it?”
He looked at me dubiously, as if I were just some weirdo who stared at anthills and was now pretending to be a noble hero.
“A carriage has arrived from your territory. They have a delivery for you.”
Ah, it was finally here. A while ago, I’d had one of the fortress’s dragon riders deliver a letter to Kadann Hill.
“Thank you. I’ll see to it at once. Where is the messenger now?”
“The main hall of the central tower, sir!”
“Understood.”
I started in that direction, and trailing behind me, the soldier asked, “Erm, d-do you mind me asking what you were doing back there?”
Trying not to let my heroic bearing slip again, I answered as convincingly as I could, “It is a divination method from my hometown. The battles of the ants imitate our reality, and by watching them, I can foresee how our own conflicts will go.”
“I-I see.” He sounded convinced. “So, did you figure anything out?”
“Yes, that our victory is inevitable. The battle to achieve it may be harsh, but in the end we will triumph.”