Radiance (1)

Ceria wanted to remain in the North until she had found the mage who killed Pelatz and put him down. A realistically impossible wish—quite apart from the small fact that the culprit was Harad himself.

It was Grand Duke Aratus who decided the length of Ceria's stay. Were he to change his mind, she would have to leave the North that very day. And yet he doesn't.

The proof was already in: Harad had been keeping company with Ceria for days now, and still the Grand Duke had not sent her home.

Is there some deeper purpose? Or have I simply committed the offense of existing? Either was possible. Getting closer to the Church? Hardly. Is he building experience for Elaine, the way he turned a blind eye to that tunnel?

In any case—in the North, the word of Serzilla was as good as law. The voice of the collateral branch simply carried a little less weight.

"Don't you think that's enough?"

"I'm sorry, Ellen. Just a little longer, please."

Ellen's words carried no weight with Ceria. If only she'd been named heir to the Duchy. Perhaps that very thought was passing through Ellen's mind.

"Demonnnn!"

How long had it been now? Ceria had tumbled into Exaltation yet again, and Ellen hauled her off into an alley.

CRUNCH! A thunderous report echoed down the alley. Were one to sneak a peek inside, one would find a head in the midst of regenerating itself.

"Thank you, Ellen." Ceria, her mind scrubbed clean, smiled with gentle composure.

"..." Ellen squeezed her eyes shut and let out a long breath. Anyone could have told what it was: the sigh of a person holding everything back.

Four days now it had gone on like this. Crack Ceria's skull, bank the fury, crack it again, pack the fury down once more. And regrettably, that fury never once got its chance to erupt.

"I'm sorry. I suffer from frenzy, you see—it got the better of me, and I caused you harm."

For the moment Ceria stepped out of that alley, mind wiped clean, she would bow her head low to the very person she'd been shrieking demon at moments before.

"You're hurt, aren't you."

And if the person in question happened to be injured, Ceria would summon her light and heal the wound on the spot.

"..." Which left Ellen, time and again, without any legitimate opening to blow her top.

Not that Ceria apologized to just anyone—and toward anything that smelled of mage she remained utterly ferocious... but the opportunity never came.

Harad had given his firm word that he would handle the investigation separately, and so Ceria refrained from physical violence. She simply shrieked herself hoarse—demon, demon—like a madwoman, and that was all.

"Meat for lunch today."

It had never once been anything else, but Harad announced it all the same. Ellen lit up for half a heartbeat before schooling her expression—she was minding the priestess.

Demon? Ceria murmured under her breath.

Ellen seized her by the arm and dragged her along. Hauled along, Ceria gazed at Ellen's back and smiled, faint and content.

Their destination was a small eatery, one of Ellen's regular haunts, its charm being meat kissed by open flame. Of course, Kubel's cooking was better—but that was a pleasure to forgo while Ceria was around. Kubel, for his part, would flinch outright at the sight of her. And then Ceria would shriek. Demon!

"Um..."

"Go on, then. I'll wait." Ellen waved a hand, looking thoroughly worn down.

Before any meal, Ceria had to climb somewhere high and offer her prayers to Laan.

"Please, start without me."

"Yes, yes—just hurry back."

Ceria made for the rooftop.

"She is a complete madwoman, that one." Ellen said it the moment Ceria vanished, her face carved from pure exasperation.

"She's certainly no ordinary priestess."

"Because she's mad."

"No. Not in that sense."

Exaltation was not the only thing that set Ceria apart.

"This is the first time I've ever heard a priestess apologize. On the matter of hunting mages, I mean."

Ellen tilted her head. Ceria had apologized again today.

"On matters concerning mages, the Church does not apologize. To do so would be to admit it was in the wrong."

"Why?"

"Because then it would not be man who erred, but god. And divine power is the power of god."

And so the Church never owned to a fault. To do so would be to chip away at god's omnipotence itself.

"And yet Ceria apologized. Mind you, I doubt she thinks Laan was wrong. She must believe her own judgment simply clouded over when the Exaltation took her."

No priest admits to his god's shortcomings. Ceria must believe the deficiency lay in her own faith—and in practice, her apologies covered only what she had done while in Exaltation.

"But an apology is an apology, all the same."

Admitting fault is a hard thing to do. Harder still within the Church.

"A phenomenon of overflowing divine power. To come out and name her own Exaltation a 'frenzy,' and beg pardon for it—that is never an easy thing to do."

To eyes that didn't know better, it would look downright pitiable.

"Other priests don't do that?"

"They don't."

In his past life, Harad had crossed paths with the Church only rarely. But he knew perfectly well what most of its priests were like.

Elaine had recoiled from anything bearing the Church's name—and not merely because Harad had been her only friend. The Church's brand fell on those who weren't mages, too.

"Any other priestess would have been screaming 'demon' at you by now."

"Why?"

"You did punch her. A priestess, no less."

Who but a demon would dare strike a priestess? That was how the Church reasoned.

"I used aura, though?"

"Good heavens. Magic that looks like aura!"

"..."

Ceria ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hadn't branded Ellen a demon. If anything, she'd taken it as proof of her own inadequacy.

"Well, as for ordinary priests—you'll learn soon enough, should you ever meet one."

The first priestess Ellen had ever met just happened to be the exception. Not a development Harad had foreseen, though it hardly mattered: the trigger marked priestess had simply been swapped for a trigger marked Ceria. A trigger was a trigger, in the end.

"Just bear this in mind: Ceria is the unusual one."

Unlike Elaine of the past life, Harad did not carve the world into black and white. That binary gaze belonged to the Church. The world teemed with every manner of character—mages included, and the Empire too. Exceptions existed wherever one went. So though he had never seen it with his own eyes, the Church would be no different. Perhaps Ceria was living proof.

Harad called to mind the deaths of the five Rebel Faction members.

'They were demons, you see?'

Ceria had said it afterward as if it were nothing, but looking back, there had been nothing fanatical about her in that moment. She hadn't brought down her guillotine until the men had confessed with their own mouths that they were mages.

"Is her nickname really 'the Guillotine'?" She didn't seem the type to cut down just anybody.

"Arika dug that up."

"Could my information be wrong?"

"The Guillotine herself admitted as much."

"Fair enough."

Another day passed. Not a shred of progress, and still Ceria did not despair—she was as steadfast as she had been the five days before. That devotion could wring admiration out of even Harad.

"Don't you think he's left the North by now? The mage who killed Pelatz." Ellen was circling, ever so delicately, around the point she couldn't say outright: time to go.

"Even so, I would like to stay a little longer."

"Why?"

"Do not neglect the bonds between people. However thin the thread, it too is light. It is one of the passages of the Truth of the Sun."

Ceria smiled gently. The smile was aimed at Harad.

"I take it you are accepting my choice, in your own way."

True enough. Harad nodded.

He remembered the face of every person who had reacted strangely at the sight of Ceria. The odds were good that they were mages.

"I intend to investigate every last one of them, in due time."

"I only wish I could be of more help."

Ceria smiled as she said it. "And if you find that demon, nothing would please me more."

At that, Ellen jabbed Harad lightly in the ribs. The meaning was plain: fix this, somehow.

Hm.

Short of turning himself in, he would have to pin the murder on some other mage. One who deserved to die. Or one Harad already intended to kill...

Harad let his gaze drift over the surroundings. The market was thick with people; even a brief stroll left him locking eyes with a fair number of strangers.

"I'm with the Information Bureau." At the non sequitur, Ceria tilted her head.

"That's right, aren't you?"

"Which is why I know a great deal. The mage who killed Pelatz is almost certainly affiliated with the Liberation Magic Tower."

"..." Ceria's face went grave, her look demanding to know why he hadn't said so from the start.

"Do forgive me. Matters concerning the Liberation Tower were classified Information Bureau business."

"..."

"The only reason I speak of it now is that I've judged you worthy of trust. The young lady of the collateral branch I serve concurs."

Harad rested a hand on Ellen's shoulder as he said it.

"I will respect that."

With Ellen invoked as well, Ceria's gentleness returned.

"Not long ago, I spoiled a little scheme of the Liberation Tower's—something they had the audacity to run here in the North."

"So that's why you were being bullied when we first met?"

"That's right. I never did learn aura. I was taken into service for my brains."

Ceria's ears pricked up as she recalled the five demons she had killed.

"An envoy arrived right around the time I was throwing wrenches into their work. And then Knight Pelatz died, without a sound or a whisper."

"..."

"There was no other anomaly in the North at the time. Which leaves no choice but to suspect the one anomaly there was."

"I'm convinced."

Ceria nodded, divine power sparkling in her eyes like stars.

"Then I must find the Liberation Tower's demon."

"Quite. And I'd wager that fellow over there is one of them." Harad pointed at the man standing in line for meat skewers.

"He's bought his skewers and queued up again—all while sneaking glances at me." The man was already holding a skewer.

"For the record, my face and name are known to the Liberation Tower. I've been marked."

"...Fuck!"

The moment their eyes met, the man hurled his skewers at Harad and bolted.

"Demon!" Ceria cried out, overjoyed.

Ellen snatched the skewers out of the air.

"Don't eat that."

"But I blocked it for you."

"Then throw it away."

"...I was going to. You didn't have to tell me."

Ellen tossed the skewers aside, wearing the face of someone mourning a genuine loss.

"I'll buy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you some after."

"Two?"

"Four."

"Let's move. Before that woman causes a scene."

The skewer man had not gotten far from Ceria. Two corners—that was all.

He stood bound in pristine white light, divine power wound about him in place of rope.

"Demon."

Perhaps because she had finally caught her demon, Ceria's face was glowing.

"Why is the Church in the North—?!"

The captive did not bother denying what he was. His captor was a priestess, after all, and he knew better than to expect mercy from one. Which meant he was no son of the North.

"How dare—!"

The man seethed. That emotion alone was enough for Harad to confirm it: this was a mage of the Rebel Faction, through and through. The Faction's sense of chosen superiority looked down on the Church itself. A dead man walking—he must have resolved to pour out everything he felt before the end.

"Harad. It's you, isn't it. You caught on to us and called in the Church."

And just like that, it all came spilling out. Like the five he'd met not long ago, there was no mistaking him for anything but a mage sent by Kunrzban.

"Hmm. You lot were never of that caliber."

The man's eyes bulged. His mouth tore ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠open to bellow—Thwack!—and clapped shut. Ceria had hammered the back of his skull.

"Where is the demon who killed the imperial knight Pelatz?"

"What...?"

The man's brow knotted. He clearly had no idea who Pelatz was. Then, a breath later, he smirked.

"A priestess—one the likes of you—dares to hunt him?"

"Just answer the question."

"As for him—Harad, he is preparing, even now, to kill you."

CRACK! Divine power, transmuted into a hammer, came crashing down on the man's skull. His face twisted itself out of all shape, yet he did not faint—Ceria, ever faithful to her calling, was an expert in the art of administering pain.

"I asked you where."

"East! He's in the Eastern Great Plain!" ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The man shrieked it out like a man surrendering.

A trap. Harad was certain of it.

The man had no idea who Pelatz was. And Pelatz, moreover, had been an ally to the Rebel Faction. Sly, as befitted a mage.

"It's a trap." Harad started, mildly surprised.

Ceria, when not in the grip of her frenzy—no, her Exaltation—was sharp.

"So we'll be steering clear of it."

Or not?

"Oh." For the first time, Ellen seemed genuinely to like Ceria.

"You sounded just like a knight there."

"That was an insult, wasn't it?"

"What?"

Or not.