Chapter 229
Chapter 229
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Letters to Windmage (22)
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Diminus Perkus.
A holy knight of the Radiant Order serving under Roharam, he cherished constancy above all the various glories of light.
Even if war, evil, the undead, and monsters engulfed the world, the morning sun still rose. To Perkus, that constancy felt like Roharam's revelation, urging him never to slow his forward steps. An unchanging truth, or perhaps fate, no matter what happened.
In that sense, Perkus believed the Saint Professor was a parishioner worthy of respect and undoubtedly a hero born for this era.
*According to the newly compiled Saint's Chronicles in the Order, he was born into a fallen family, failed to uphold the divine will at first, and from the moment his power was weak, he fought tooth and nail against that mutant race. As a mercenary, he battled those who raided cities; as a test subject, he resisted the hands of mages corrupted by the evil god; even when his tainted body was denied recognition, he faithfully carried out the Order's missions, and ultimately ascended to sainthood by upholding the faith. Every part of his life was marked by bloody battles with mutants. Truly, isn't that unwavering resolve the very mark of a true guide of light!*
To him, a single letter that arrived at the Order felt like a divine revelation.
*An utterly vile... stench of evil burning away. Wherever the Saint heads, the minions of evil are always swarming. Indeed, he must be the talent Roharam sent for our Order, which lost its Saintess!*
Riding alongside the gathered knights, Perkus watched the charred mutant corpses and collapsed valleys everywhere, his expectations turning into certainty. At last, at last, after long years of silence, His voice had reached us once more! More direct, more proactive!
And finally. Even from a distance that would take hours by horse, unholy mana and the scent of evil wafted over. Around the time an enormous divine afterglow became palpable, too vast to be overshadowed by that horrific stench.
"...What the hell are these guys?"
Perkus encountered him.
The bloodied saint descending, stepping on a small piece of fabric, with the rising sun at his back.
"Oooh, oooh... Praise... Praise be! Ratura, Ro-Haram...! Ratura! Ratura!!!!"
The saint who walked the heavens like a celestial being to arrive before him.
A brilliant light floating behind him like a halo, proclaiming this was *that* man.
And...
Whooooosh-!
Even muffled by his clothing, a colossal divine power that filled the surroundings with its presence.
"Uh... Are you from the Order? From which diocese, may I ask...?"
"Ehehehuk! Lower your words, O Radiant One! Aaaah, Ratura! Raturaaaa!!!"
Diminus Perkus finally felt the will of light reach him too. Grateful to live and witness that moment, he prostrated himself on the dusty ground and kissed the saint's feet. Ahead of the other holy knights tumbling off their horses and crawling on their knees to behold the glory.
Rustle!
That swift, reverent retreat was the epitome of humility.
Tears of joy streamed from Perkus's eyes. The empire's knights surrounding them were invisible to him. Only the morning radiance filling the surroundings and the one who embodied it filled his vision.
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*...Incredible traces. As expected of the mages stationed at Storm Hill. Must have been one hell of a battle.*
Rosion Mahler.
As a knight of the Sword House, he was something of a legendary figure in his own right. Born a commoner, he caught a knight's eye and served as a squire, steadily proving his worth until he earned his knighthood at the young age of twenty-one.
Though the wall of his origins remained thick—even fifteen years after his investiture, he served as captain of the itinerant knight order rather than in the 'inner court' directly attending the swordmaster—it could not hide his skill.
The Sword House's commoner knight captain, who taught that 'seeing' was the most important thing in battle, marveled more and more at the scale as he traced the path from Felix Home to the valley.
*When I visited in the past, the hills around Felix Home weren't this narrow. From the traces, it looks like the nearby valleys were almost entirely melted by the aftermath of great magic. They used such spells yet still damaged their precious Home, failed to eliminate the threat, and had to fight throughout the valley...*
He hadn't heard the full details, but the scattered traces alone revealed the battle's magnitude. Traces of wind cutters that sliced through solid granite. Scorches that blackened an entire valley. And...
"No way..."
A third battlefield where the terrain itself had been utterly transformed.
Unlike the similarly shaped rocky valleys, Rosion arrived at the spot beyond the hill where the strongest aura lingered, forgetting his dignity as captain and gaping in shock.
The granite sliced by wind cutters that first awed him?
Here, an entire valley slope was shattered like a cake.
The lightning spell that blackened the valley?
Mana hung so thick here that even a clown mimicking a mage could cast spells.
But what awed him most was the simplest trace of all.
Destruction.
The epicenter of cracks pervading the entire valley, encompassing all the previous traces.
The center of destruction that split the valley like an earthquake, ravaged by truly merciless power.
A massive collapse that crumbled one wall of the V-shaped valley, revealing the horizon's rising sun. Pure force, devoid of mana or aura traces.
"Oof, come on..."
"Do not refuse! It is only natural for a believer to serve the saint..."
Amid the commotion, Rosion turned to the man who seemed responsible.
"No, why are you grabbing people's feet...? How did you know and get here so fast? Huh? Hell, even I, the one involved, never heard from Roharam, so why call you guys!"
A man covered in scars identical to the thorn trees blooming across the battlefield, fuming under the worship of a cloud of holy knights.
Rosion, as one who honed the martial arts, couldn't help shuddering at that body, which was like a walking testament, its scarred upper half fully exposed.
"Calion."
"Waaaaah..."
"Calion!"
"Yes, sir! Captain!"
"Shhh. Lower your voice."
"Hup!... Yes, what is it?"
Rustle-rustle-
Rosion hurriedly folded the scribbled letter twice and placed it in his squire Calion's hand.
"Peel off from the column along this path, and send the letter where no one can see. It's to the swordmaster—hurry as much as you can."
"Yes, sir! I'll carry it out faithfully!"
True to his quick wits, the boy skipped the salute, gradually slowing to fall back.
The knight watching his squire bore worry in his eyes—not for the empire's, but for that enormous power.
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"Urgh! Sorry. Such unseemly behavior before the proxy of light..."
"No, you know it's ugly, so let me say this... Can you back off a bit?"
What.
The.
Fuck.
He had no idea what was going on.
Quest done. Battle over. History cleared. Last hurdle passed, rewards claimed! He thought all that was left was laughing it up with Home's mages at 100% affinity, grabbing a meal, resting, and hopping on the hot air balloon to the elf forest!
"Did you hear? Brother Gillion. The Saint is uncomfortable. Back off."
"You, yeah you! Diminus... Brother! I'm fine on all four limbs—no need to support me! No, stop pretending to support and slyly clinging! It's creepy!"
"We cannot. I, Diminus Perkus, have served as a holy knight of the Order for thirty years, fought countless evils, lost brothers, and learned one thing. It is this..."
Swoosh!
"Evil extends its wicked clutches everywhere, anytime. Brother Bartelli died from a curse that activated a month after we wiped out the black mages. Brother Shotis suffered wounds from a beast tainted by evil that never healed, forcing him to amputate both legs."
"Brother Diminus speaks truly. After slaughtering so many evils, how much blood and curses must you be covered in? Ignore the eyes of the mundane. Roharam watches over us."
What the hell were these lumps that poured out of the valley all of a sudden? And who were those knights?
The moment he tried to return to the tent riding the wind via Astrad's magic, the Professor—now at a fair height—spotted a dust cloud moving deep in the valley.
*Should've just ignored it and bolted back to Home then.*
Just in case—really just in case—it was mutant remnants, no mutant aura but he checked anyway like testing a stone bridge, and this happened.
What? Mutant blood this, curses that?
*I'm the type who gets way healthier chomping raw mutant flesh and gulping their blood!*
So the holy knights' worries were utterly pointless, but he couldn't exactly say that.
In the end, the Professor was carried all the way to Felix Home in the arms of these sacred brothers who only responded to his words with prayers like "Ratura, Ratura!"
"Looks fun, guest. Nice brothers you've got."
"Shut it, Astrad."
"Heheheh."
Fortunately, once they reached Home, he escaped their holy affection. Home's structure, with its narrow passages, couldn't accommodate many knights anyway, but more than that...
"We'll enter."
"No. Meet your visitor outside, or catch 100 golden butterflies from the elves."
"How the hell am I supposed to get those that barely appear ten times a year in the elf forest right now! Our Saint is inside!"
"Becoming a guest to meet the Professor 'guest' doesn't make sense. No. Go back. No trades."
"Grraaah!"
The infamous 'cantankerous gatekeeper' blocked them all at the entrance. That grumpiness that annoyed him on the way in was now so welcome.
*Roughly 120 knights gathered nearby. 30 holy knights. 150 aura user-grade knights in just a few hours.*
And they weren't scrub fillers sent for cover since it was the emperor's order. Even a glance showed they were elites.
Having a late breakfast with the party, the Professor pondered how to handle the knights who were now setting up tents right outside.
"First, I'd like to hear from the one who started this mess. Yggdrasil, you said you were here right when the battle started? Where's Lucilla?"
"After the knights entered the valley, she headed out of Home right away. She said at least preparing lodging for them or materials to build tents would reduce the backlash."
"And besides that, she popped in briefly? Muttered gibberish at me then bolted somewhere?"
"She's going tent to tent right now, from what I know. It was the emperor's order, but ultimately started at her request, so thanking them one by one is the noble thing to do. Otherwise, it might create a bad impression of the 'Professor Hero Party' in imperial high society."
"Hmm. She put out all the urgent fires alone. As expected, competent. Too competent, which led to this mess."
Honestly, not a bad choice.
If the battle had dragged on longer, his side would've struggled hard, and those knights would've been a godsend. But Aldrich and Astrad's killer combo ended it quick without a boring magic slugfest.
Anyway, the holy knights would be content with a spot to pray, but the problem was the knights who'd galloped here at dawn, foaming their horses, only to face returning empty-handed.
"A little bloodletting with donations to the knights might smooth things over?"
"Otman, that'd be real trouble. They'd say you're buying off the emperor's orders with money."
"Then since it's the emperor's command, we don't need to do anything extra, right?"
"Uuuum..."
True. He wasn't even imperial, didn't promise rewards to summon them. Nothing to complain to the top brass of the Radiant Order about. At worst, the knights who'd rushed here would glare a bit...
"We can't rule out political exploitation."
"Politics? This?"
"Yes. You know—the imperial throne succession. Emperor's nearing sixty, so it's peak infighting. Guys just waiting to undermine rivals will twist this somehow to devour us."
"For example?"
"Hmm... [Stirring threats to the empire over a done deal, wasting precious knight manpower. If they'd secured imperial safety instead, dozens of citizens' lives could've been saved—so it's no different from a foreigner falsely reporting and killing dozens of imperials.] Or [Making the emperor's order futile counts as insulting the emperor.] ...Something like that?"
"Does that even make sense? No one sane would buy that..."
"It's not about belief—it's that such frames can be created at all."
That was why Lucilla was busting her ass flattering the knights, making it impeccably 'noble.'
If this blew up into a scandal, the empire might even send word blocking elf forest entry.
Why?
Elves were tied to the empire's founding history. With the forest bordering them, entanglements abounded. The two races' markets faced each other, good for the emperor's face.
Even now, new emperors got congratulatory addresses from the elf forest leader, the elders—so linked to legitimacy. They'd block any foreigner tangled in succession drama from entering.
*Worst case, that parasite Palkatus wormed into high imperial ranks could sabotage our path.*
Not something to say publicly, but swallowed inwardly. Anyway.
Hearing his explanation, the party frowned at the unexpectedly thorny situation.
"What then? I owe the captain a huge debt, so I'll follow any decision. But... now that I know I have kids in the empire, I want to avoid becoming a criminal here if possible."
"Got it. Succession wars are ultra-sensitive—even if cleared, forcing entry could turn the return trip into a warzone. We rushed this crap to save time, not get chained to the empire forever. Can't have that."
Swoosh-
At the sigh-filled table, Yggdrasil, who had been quietly taking notes, raised her hand.
"I don't know much about complicated human affairs... but isn't it just about satisfying those knights outside? Plenty of them, and knights love boasting tales, so if they leave with good memories, it'll drown out other rumors."
Crunch, gulp!
"Spot on, Yggdrasil. You've learned a lot."
Bow-
Yggdrasil dipped her head slightly, while the Professor faceplanted into the table.
*...If I really get rumored as a saint like this, I'll suffer later, but no choice.*
Knowing there was no other way, the Professor extended a hand to Astrad, who'd waited patiently.
"Hand it over already."
"Oh, guest—how'd you know I came with letters?"
"Divine power. Arrived this morning, right?"
The Professor tossed the holy knights' near-petition letters into the furnace from the dozens Astrad handed over from behind, then picked up the one thickest with divine aura.
Highest-grade stationery and envelope, but ink smudges galore unfit for it, seal stamped but not dried, wax smeared sideways.
Even the letter screamed frantic, deranged handwriting. It bore the winged emblem of the Mercy Order.
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Please, I beg you, we implore you—stay there without incident. Pope Lotmarier III of Mercy and all Mercy faithful beseech you. Without a hair's breadth of threat. Like a cradle for a sleeping child. Safely, just safely remain there.
We will come to serve Him.
Lotmarier Danus Phil III, to the Radiant Order's Professor.
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The Professor pictured the kindly Mercy Pope flinging the letter before the wax seal even dried. Around lunchtime now—Aldrich's 'Saintess Kidnapping Statement' would've gone via the border Radiant Order to Mercy, right on time for a reply.
"Mercy holy knights are all at Lordric frontline, so only useless old priests and attendants left in the temple. Can't ride, so I figured they'd arrive late..."
Swoosh-
"...Make way! Our... lord is in there!"
"This old body will become a martyr... That one right now...!"
At the hill's archway, where things had calmed a bit, a dozen elders were causing a ruckus—must've driven here like mad on donkeys or something.
"Here we go! Notum, you got my clothes I asked you to hold, right?"
"Grok. Professor is weird creature. Takes off clean clothes, puts on dirty ones."
"Acting's all about immersion. Lend me your bulk. Just lemme change quick."
"Tha... ughk."
The Professor glanced out the window, felt the moment ripe, and swapped into his signature blood-and-tear-stained rags.
Aldrich instinctively backed away knowing the Professor was up to something again, while Otman grabbed a vial of that brownish potion.
"Ah, don't worry. This one's solo."
"Hope so. At least wanna see next year's first spring rain before dying."
"Tell us before you go. What's the plan this time?"
"Simple show. Gonna do a little theater."
Rustle!
The Professor donned the battle-worn rags, hung his precious holy relic around his neck.
Couldn't restart a finished battle, no way to compensate empty-handed knights.
*Gotta dope 'em up instead.*
Instead, the Professor planned to poke at knights' undying romance.
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