Gorgalia (6): The Severed Head of Hoenir

The meal turned out to suit Franc’s tastes perfectly. For something we’d thrown together so early in the morning, the table was remarkably abundant, and we all gathered around it for a genuinely cheerful breakfast. Seeing Franc beam with delight was enough to leave me thoroughly satisfied.

Once we’d cleared the dishes and I’d finished washing up, I gathered the party members back in the living room. The moment I brought up the dream, Dana muttered “Hoenir?” like it was the strangest name she’d ever heard.

“Yeah. Pretty sure he’s the boss of Yerna’s organization, the one who showed up in my dream.”

I described the scene I’d witnessed. The deeper I went, the deeper the frowns on everyone’s faces became. I understood why. The information we’d dug out of Yerna’s past was exactly the kind of thing that would make anyone grimace.

When I finished, Dana pressed a fist to her temple as if she had a headache coming on.

“Ha… So now we’ve got an actual god on our hands. Any chance it’s just some fraud stealing the name?”

“He genuinely believes he’s a god and keeps recalling memories from other deities. If he’s not the real deal, then he’s a lunatic who’s convinced he’s divine.”

Just because someone believed it didn’t make it true. I’d heard stories back on Earth about cult leaders whose brains had broken so badly they thought they really were gods. Real or fake, though, the power he possessed couldn’t be ignored. For us, that was all that mattered.

“So for now we just file him under ‘self-proclaimed god,’ right?” Larilura asked, sipping her tea.

I’d expected the mood to grow heavy once I shared the story, but surprisingly the others didn’t seem particularly worried or afraid. Maybe my confusion showed on my face, because Dana shrugged.

“We’ve had a goddess sitting on my left at breakfast this morning putting away three full bowls. Kinda late to start acting shocked now.”

“Ahem. The meal was quite delicious today,” Veronica said with an awkward little cough.

As a descendant of the Aesir gods who had already reclaimed a portion of their power, Veronica could reasonably be called half a goddess. Which would technically make me the husband of a goddess. That title felt a lot more real than “successor of a god.”

“Enlir was trying to imitate divine power too,” Franc pointed out. “The scale might be different, but it’s on the same continuum. Getting scared ahead of time won’t help anyone.”

“Not all members of the divine races are overwhelmingly powerful,” Veronica added.

Both of them were approaching the word “god” with clear heads instead of blind fear. They were handling it better than I was. Still, I was relieved the party was staying calmer than I’d anticipated.

Come to think of it, Franc is right. Even if a real god was leading the enemy faction, hadn’t we already faced off against god-related beings, myths, and enemies multiple times? It started with the successor of Odin who appeared in my dreams, then the prophecy of the Bicorn tribe that called me a descendant of the gods. After that I’d gone on rampages spitting out Odin’s divine power, and we’d even run into bastards like Enlir who coveted godhood. As long as this Hoenir guy didn’t suddenly pop up and start firing divine beams at us, there was no reason to be terrified. Besides, he’d end up kneeling before the God of Macho sooner or later. Just like that Chinese-made Thor, Enlir.

Enlir. Hoenir. Now that I thought about it, those fucking names were way too similar.

Veronica crossed her arms and hummed thoughtfully.

“Still, to have already succeeded in extracting usable memories… Perhaps my lord possesses a talent for the butterfly dream.”

“Don’t underestimate the mental strength of the macho,” I shot back.

“Senior’s usual nonsense aside,” Larilura said, tilting her head, “I’ve never heard of a god named Hoenir before?”

She’d gotten dragged into my mess almost by accident, yet she clearly had no intention of cutting ties and running. When she glanced at me with that questioning look, both Franc and Dana shook their heads.

“Never heard of him. First time for both the God of Total Wisdom and Hoenir.”

“Same. The name sounds like one of Germania’s gods… or at least god-like.”

“Indeed. Hoenir, God of Total Wisdom. He was one of the ancient gods, called the most foolish among the Aesir,” Veronica explained.

Even for her the memory seemed faint; she frowned in concentration as she spoke. Dana blinked at her.

“Wait, Veronica. Doesn’t ‘God of Total Wisdom’ mean a wise god? How can the most foolish god also be the god of wisdom? Germania’s myths love contradictions and wordplay, but that seems weird even for them.”

“According to oral tradition, when the sea god Njord summoned an envoy from the Aesir, Hoenir volunteered as hostage by claiming to be the most foolish of them all. He may have deliberately called himself foolish.”

Sea god Njord? That name wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. When I remembered that the bastard who’d given me my isekai name was that bitch Yerna, it left a slightly unpleasant aftertaste.

“Maybe I was actually the sea god all along? I knew it. That’s why I never got seasick.”

“It’s Njord, not Nord, you reindeer bastard.”

“Nord or Njord, isn’t it basically the same? Honestly, this has some real king-tier potential.”

“That’s bullshit. If swapping a vowel is all it takes, you could end up as the fucking God of Manure.”

“Oh.”

The conversation had gone completely off the rails. Time to steer it back.

“Anyway, Veronica. What kind of god is this Hoenir guy?”

“I do not know.”

“Come on, seriously?”

One-word answers get point deductions, dammit. Even if you didn’t know during a test, you were supposed to squeeze your brain until you could write an essay and turn a C into a C+. Veronica scratched at her horn and sighed.

“Almost no legends concerning the God of Total Wisdom remain. The only stories that survive are that he incurred the sea god’s displeasure before Ragnarok and had his head cut off, and that afterward he remained as Odin’s brother—a severed head serving as an advisor.”

“His head got chopped off?”

The bastard was basically a dullahan. No wonder my neck had itched so badly in the dream. I’d wondered how a member of the divine races had survived Ragnarok, but apparently he’d been dead at the time and only later got his head reattached with a “come here, body” gesture. It wasn’t fucking Lego—how did he keep sticking and removing his own head?

“That is the extent of the knowledge left in the legends. If you wish to know more, we will have to ask the elders of the tribe. Fortunately, my research into spatial magic has been progressing.”

Veronica drew a circle on the table with her finger.

“If I can study the magic circle left behind by the divine one, I too will be able to use magic. Is that not sufficient reason to visit the Bicorn sanctuary?”

“Wait, seriously?”

I knew Veronica had been holed up in inns doing research ever since we were in Germania. It had already been over two months. Still, the environment couldn’t have been great for focused study. Half that time had been spent traveling, so I hadn’t expected results this quickly. To make that much progress while carving research time out of such a hectic schedule was genuinely impressive.

We all turned to look at Veronica with renewed admiration.

—Thud!

Imagining how hard she must have worked, I shot to my feet. This was the kind of thing that deserved over-the-top praise.

“Whoa! Our wife is insane! Turning in a draft and delivering the final product in two months? For real? Well, she is a goddess—replicating human techniques must be child’s play to her!”

“Ah, um… Do not get your hopes too high? The main slab and orichalcum pillars are required, and activation takes considerable time. The range is also short, so travel between continents will be difficult.”

“Even so, that’s still amazing! Wait, it actually works? I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Dana let out a sound of awe ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that sounded half skeptical. At first I thought she was just playing along, but she genuinely seemed stunned.

“Hehe. Runes are magic of application. Since a finished product already existed, reproducing it was not particularly difficult.”

As she spoke, the corners of Veronica’s mouth twitched. She was clearly happy but embarrassed to accept the praise outright. Yet when even Franc and Larilura started clapping and gazing at her with open admiration, she finally rose to her feet and joined me.

“Hohohohoh! Good! Praise me more! You may fall for my magnificent abilities all over again!”

“As expected of Veronica-unnie!! I’ve fallen for you all over again♡!!”

“You have enchanted an unexpected opponent! However, I permit it! The outstanding are meant to be admired!”

Praise could make even a Bicorn dance. In high spirits, Veronica swept her hair back and clung to me.

“Now then! My dear! Have you nothing to say about your wife’s hard work? You do, don’t you? It is only natural that you would, yes? Hm? Hm?”

“Of course! That’s our goddess for you!! You did amazing!!”

The moment the brakes came off this girl, she really took off. Lamenting the fact that my science-major brain couldn’t come up with anything more romantic on the spot, I simply pulled Veronica into my arms.

—Squeeze!

“Mmm… Yes? I am your Veronica after all, am I not?”

She usually wasn’t very affectionate, and aside from our nights together she had relatively little experience with skinship. Just being hugged seemed to be enough; our proud lady’s face melted into pure happiness.

“Hehe, hehehe. Ehehehe♡”

I stroked her back thoroughly before letting go. Then I cleared my throat, trying to return the atmosphere to something more serious.

“By the way, Veronica. Didn’t you say your clan would hate it if you researched Sleipnir’s teleportation circle?”

“Ah, um… Yes. If it were only me, I would inevitably be beaten. However, my dear? Have you forgotten whose husband you are?”

“Oh, right.”

It clicked like a knot suddenly coming undone. Veronica puffed out her chest triumphantly. Though not as impressive as Franc’s, her impressive bosom swayed beautifully.

“Exactly! If I use you as a shield, even the stubborn old elders of the tribe will have nothing to say!”

“Auntie, please don’t use your husband as a meat shield.”

So she planned to use me—the successor of Odin—as a tank. Since there was plenty of evidence, there’d be no worry about people doubting whether it was fact or fiction. Well, even though I complained, it was exactly what I’d been hoping for. The God of Macho is always the shield for our wives.

“Then let us head first to the place where the teleportation circle is installed!”

“Hold on. That won’t work right now. Going to Romania comes first.”

If intercontinental travel was impossible, leaving immediately wasn’t a good idea. We didn’t know when the young lady might send new orders. Besides, because of the entry permit issue, it was better not to use teleportation between countries. One slip and it’d be an express ticket to slavery for the whole family.

“Ugh. I-I know that. But there is a sanctuary we can visit on the way to Romania.”

“On the Romania side?”

“No, there is no sanctuary within Romania’s territory. There used to be one, but I heard it was closed before I was even born. Looking back now, it seems that was also the prophet’s will.”

I nodded. That made sense. The prophet had apparently been wary of Romania during her lifetime.

“Where is that sanctuary?”

“It is in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the old lands of Gorgalia.”

“Gorgalia? Do Bicorns live there too?” Franc asked, surprised.

Gorgalia was a nation founded by people near Orwalia, Crown Crown’s homeland. The main race was Britannian. I recalled its territory was especially small compared to its neighbors. It was basically all that remained of the lands snatched and plundered between ancient Germania and Romania during the Viking era.

“In sanctuaries scattered across the world, a few ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Bicorns are stationed as caretakers,” Veronica answered immediately.

“Most of them are the oldest and most stubborn of the old. Their heads have hardened from age; they know the old stories well but are useless at absorbing new knowledge.”

“That’s pretty harsh criticism, unnie. Not like you.”

Larilura looked startled by the rare anger in Veronica’s voice. Veronica turned away with an embarrassed expression.

“Hmph. I heard nothing but complaints while I was collecting rune stones. Those fellows are old enough that, while their wisdom may be questionable, their sheer volume of knowledge surpasses even mine. They are suitable subjects for extracting Hoenir’s oral traditions.”

“Hmm. Then we’ll stop by the Bicorn sanctuary on the way to Romania. Guess we’ll have to plan the route with a detour?”

Dana, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, muttered to herself. Larilura, who had been clinging to the sulking Veronica and acting cute, answered.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s necessary~? The usual stopover from Britannia to Romania passes through Gorgalia anyway. The inspections if you go through Germania are really strict.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. In the worst case you can get stuck for over a week. I came here through Gorgalia too☆!”

Since it came from Larilura, a Romanian, it was probably accurate. She might act silly, but she was actually pretty sharp. As I’d mentioned before, Romania and Germania were on very bad terms. Crossing their border was apparently a huge pain.

Franc spoke seriously.

“Besides, Veronica still doesn’t have proper identification.”

“…I can simply transform to pass human inspections,” the illegally-staying goddess grumbled in a sullen voice.

Unlike dwarves or elves, Bicorns were not subject to birth registration or ID issuance procedures in human nations. So it wasn’t an exaggeration to say Veronica was committing both illegal stay and illegal entry at the same time. Of course, there was nothing to be done about it due to her race.

I’ll have to solve the ID problem if I want to marry Veronica properly. I’d filed a marriage registration with Franc. But without proven identity, Veronica and I couldn’t officially become husband and wife. In this world, marriage registration required a wedding ceremony—witnessed and certified by a priestess or nun—which meant this was another issue we’d have to resolve eventually.

Still… Gorgalia, huh.

I mentally unfolded a map. Gorgalia was located directly below the island nation of Britannia. It was also known as a place where one of the Ulster tribes had settled.

Dana seemed to guess what I was thinking from a single glance and brushed off her hands.

“My hometown is in northern Britannia. The ones living in Gorgalia are the real descendants of Erin. You know, those Ulster folks with the bright red hair they spike straight up.”

“No, I already knew your hometown’s location from our university days. But I think I’ve seen one of those Ulster people before?”

The red mohawk Ulster warrior I’d met on the way to Sargadis—the one looking for his wife. Had he come from the Ulster settlement in Gorgalia? I vaguely remembered him appearing briefly in one of my dreams, but I’d forgotten his name. I felt a little bad about that.

Dana brushed it off like she didn’t care, then scratched the back of my hand with her fingernail. It tickled.

“Anyway, we’ll need to find another ship for the journey, right?”

“Probably. It’ll be another long-term business trip. If we leave in January or February, find the missing Tirsi, the auction date should be coming up soon after.”

“While we’re there, shouldn’t we meet Selena, the one we encountered in the underground tower? We should tell her we’ll be in Romania until the auction and discuss ways to find Tirsi.”

“Senior’s going to meet a woman again☆!”

“Hey, Larilura. Can you maybe change how you phrase that?”

Larilura’s sharp-tongued tease hurt more than I expected. We weren’t in that kind of relationship, dammit. Selena even had a fiancé. What the hell.

The schedule’s roughly set.

I organized the plan in my head.

1. Head to Romania to find the missing Tirsi.

2. Stop by the Bicorn sanctuary on the way to hear Hoenir’s myths.

3. After finding Tirsi in Romania, meet up with the people I know.

4. Before returning, auction off the Elixir.

That should cover it.

It hadn’t been that long since the Germania trip, yet here we were heading abroad again. True to my archaeologist nature, I was hopping from continent to continent.

Fuck. Now that I think about it, I need to publish a paper too.

I sighed. I’d have to pick a topic that wouldn’t draw the Compilation Battalion’s aggro and write one decent paper.

Since my wife Dana is a doctor, it’d be embarrassing if I stayed a master’s.

This was less about logical reasoning and more about the duty and pride of the God of Macho. The academic world might just say “Oh, we’ve already seen this” and reject my paper, but what could I do? Even if my evaluation as a field worker took a hit, it was better than missing the submission deadline. Still, just thinking about those bastards made my teeth grind.

Fucking hell. Those shitty isekai Red Guard bastards.

The world was already tough enough when it came to finding paper topics, yet they had to pull this crap! Criminals really never helped my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠life in any way.

I sighed and wrapped up the discussion.

“Anyway, everyone, remember we’re proceeding according to what we just talked about. If we hear from the young lady, the detailed plan might change.”

With that, we ended the meeting and spent the remaining time focused on training, catching up on paperwork, and magic research.

Then, three weeks later, we received a letter from Lady Hennesis.

And so our next destination was decided: the Holy Empire of Romania, the nation boasting the largest territory in the modern otherworld. Perhaps because of that very size, it had become a hotbed for countless major criminal organizations—a leading hegemonic power on the world stage.