Armaals (2): The Cursed Ring
The deposit of forty gold coins was confirmed with the receipt as well. Satisfied with the payment, I returned to the mansion and thanked Selena too.
“Thank you, Miss Selena. Thanks to your help, everything worked out perfectly.”
“Not at all! It was my honor to be able to lend you my strength!!”
Selena answered with boundless energy and flashed a genuinely warm smile. Of course, I would have bet every drop of Dana’s thesis ink that she had practiced that exact expression in front of a mirror, but wasn’t rehearsing smiles a basic virtue for anyone in business? That’s what Mr. Baek always used to say. Anyway, Selena’s injuries had healed enough that she even gave me a round of celebratory applause for my triumphant return. She still needed to rest quietly for a while to keep the wounds from reopening, though.
“The Elixir auction ran into complications, but I’m truly glad you received a reward worthy of your efforts, Mr. Nord!”
“Heh. Sorry for all the trouble I caused you.”
“There’s no need to apologize! We’ve made a valuable connection ourselves!”
Selena wore a meaningful little smile. She wasn’t talking about me. She meant Primor. With Diabolo having fled in a half-dead state and the lord of Renapolis wandering in some limbo between human and mummy, the two women had nowhere to go. The inns suitable for someone of Armaals’ station had either been demolished during the Yotun descent uproar or claimed by other nobles. Selena was the one who made the offer. Using the convenient excuse of “it must be fate,” she invited Primor and her guards to stay at the mansion. The Hermeion Guild would no doubt treat the encounter as a golden opportunity to forge ties with her family.
“Oh, that’s right. While I’m grateful you came to me first, the madam was looking for you as well, Nord.”
Selena had shouted in excitement only to wince in pain; she clutched her injury and continued in a strained voice.
“Madam Primor?”
“Yes. If you’re amenable, I can summon her guard right away. How does that sound?”
“Hmm… Yes. Please do.”
Selena nodded and left. Almost as if they were trading places, the female knight arrived. As I greeted her, I recalled the letter Primor had sent me last time.
…How exactly did Primor explain me to them?
The fact that Nord equaled Yesugei was known only to Primor. She had therefore written a secret letter to her guards explaining how she had described my identity. If the stories don’t line up, the lie will be exposed.
So these people probably only knew me as “the adventurer who defeated Diabolo and a guest invited by the family.”
I need to behave in a way that makes me look as different from Yesugei as possible.
Resolved not to slip up this time, I began speaking with her.
“Inviting you, Mr. Nord, will have to wait a little longer.”
After a brief preamble, the knight got to the point.
“Roughly a week. Perhaps even longer.”
“A week… May I ask why?”
I asked, a little troubled. Tirsi was still full of energy—though she seemed unusually sensitive to the cold for a mage, judging by how often her face flushed—but factoring in travel time, I wanted to secure her safety as soon as possible.
“It is because the task my lady commissioned remains unresolved. I apologize for the delay, but I hope you, Mr. Nord, will understand with your usual generosity.”
The knight answered as though it was difficult to explain the details. Pressing her would only make things awkward, so I simply replied, “I see,” and let it drop. If it was something I needed to know, Primor would have written it in the letter.
If it can’t be helped, then it can’t be helped.
If it was an unavoidable issue, I might as well prepare my farewells before leaving. I needed to say proper goodbyes to the Heswald sisters, and it would be wise to leave a letter for Minerva to prevent any future headaches. Catherine was camped out in the mansion complaining that her office had been destroyed, so I could greet her anytime.
Whether it was good luck or bad, I learned the reason we had to wait that very same day. The bishop of the Janus Church had come calling at the mansion.
The bishop of the Janus Church was a middle-aged priest with a kindly, benevolent face. A bishop. Not an especially lofty position, yet high enough that it would be rude to dismiss him. Simply put, he ranked above an honorary noble but below someone like Signatio or Primor. Perhaps for that reason, Selena devised a simple plan: she threw together a dinner party that included the bishop, Primor, and us.
Of course, since it was only a dinner, it wasn’t on the scale of a full-blown banquet. Still, it had exactly the atmosphere you’d expect from a movie line like “I invite you to dinner.” My personal impression was The Great Gatsby. An absurdly wide table. A lavish spread of exquisite dishes. The ceiling of the ridiculously spacious dining hall was adorned with a glittering chandelier. A single splendid scene straight out of a film, perfectly suited to the upper class dining with their servants or slaves.
Fuck.
Right there, the entire Nord household felt like a country-bumpkin family from the 1980s or ’90s stepping into a real restaurant for the first time. We picked at our food in awkward silence.
Damn it… I shouldn’t have come…
No—even if I had to come, I shouldn’t have dragged my wives along. I carved the meat on my plate into perfect little cubes while eavesdropping on the conversation flowing between the three genuine members of high society.
“The total expenditure and budget for this rework is—”
“As for the allocation from the commercial Legitio—”
“We also wish to express our deepest condolences from the perspective of Pesit—”
What the hell were they even saying? Had Odin's Eye finally started glitching the translation cheat even in everyday conversation? I understood the words but couldn’t make sense of the meaning. I decided to let their dialogue go in one ear and out the other.
How on earth had we ended up here? I grew depressed. Even if I pretended otherwise, I already knew the answer. When Selena invited me to dinner and mentioned other guests would be present, I had followed without thinking. I should have taken the hint when Tirsi said she’d be fine with just porridge and bowed out. It was shitty of me to be the only one who stayed.
─Clink. Clink.
Our family passed the time unable to enjoy the meal, each in our own miserable way. Franc had hesitantly taken some meat, but after a startled maid whispered a request in her ear, her face turned beet-red all the way to her ears. She spent the next several minutes poking at her soup instead. Dana simply set her utensils down. Larilura couldn’t even ask for a different dish because the people beside her were engaged in such weighty, important conversation.
Among us, Veronica—who cared the most about food—had tried to eat like a madwoman until I sent her a telepathic warning. She immediately put on a pitiful, teary-eyed expression. It made me feel like the husband who’d done something wrong, so I wished she’d stop.
Fuck. At this rate, none of them will ever agree to come with me again.
Even if I asked whether they wanted to join me for a dinner invitation, my wives would probably all flee, screaming “No!” My prediction proved correct. The moment the meal wound down, Dana spoke up on everyone’s behalf and made their escape.
“Please excuse us. The fatigue from yesterday’s battle still lingers…”
“Oh dear. My apologies. Please go ahead and rest.”
Dana spouted that obvious lie, gathered the wives, and bolted. Look at her! When we were fighting the enemy she threw a tantrum and refused to run even when I told her to!
But regardless of what I thought, my wives abandoned their husband on the battlefield and vanished.
Ting…
Left behind, I felt my mentality cracking and attempted a mental victory. That wasn’t running away… They simply noticed that staying wouldn’t help my business and withdrew with good grace… Yeah, that’s it… No objections…
The reason my eyes felt hot and watery was the sorrow of a family patriarch. Sob sob.
“Hehe. This tea has quite a profound aroma. Most unique.”
“It is tea imported from Kitai. After meeting Mr. Nord, I grew curious about that faraway continent.”
The bishop and Selena chatted amiably. I, of course, was completely lost.
This is just fucking green tea.
The black tea they drank every day was made from fermented leaves, so what exactly was so “unique” about it? I grumbled inwardly while sipping the stuff.
Was there any reason for me to stay here? If they had at least put whipped cream on a green-tea frappuccino, I might have stayed voluntarily out of nostalgia. Instead they summoned me just to drink powdered-green-tea water. The Hermeion Guild’s hospitality was garbage.
I decided to completely erase the fact that I had volunteered for this dinner. Sometimes such mental victories were good for one’s mental health.
“Now that I think of it, I also have something to tell you, Lady Primor.”
While I sat there drinking green tea like the loner who couldn’t join the conversation at a company retreat, the portly bishop finally spoke.
Primor, who had been giving polite responses, looked puzzled.
“To me, Your Grace…?”
“Not from me. I have come to convey the words of Sir Signatio on her behalf.”
Primor frowned slightly, as if she had an inkling. A man who looked like a servant devoted to the faith brought forward a small box. The bishop had him hand it to one of Primor’s guards.
“Sir Signatio said that due to exhaustion from the recent battle, she finds it difficult to fulfill the requested task. She sends her deepest apologies.”
“…I see.”
“Normally we would handle it ourselves, but… the truth is we are already overburdened with resolving this incident and maintaining public order.”
The bishop spoke earnestly, looking genuinely sorry.
“We can return the fee, or request that another diocese perform the exorcism. What would you prefer?”
I remained silent, having no idea what they were talking about. But Primor gave a bitter smile—like someone in the throes of post-nut clarity—and set the box down.
“No. Just… dispose of it.”
“Dispose, you say?”
“They say destroying a cursed object is easier than exorcising it. Perhaps that was its fate from the very beginning.”
Primor spoke calmly, but her guards were visibly shocked. Even the bishop seemed flustered, as though he knew the contents. That was when I roughly guessed what was inside the box.
…Is it the wedding ring her husband gave her?
Otherwise there was no reason for such a dramatic reaction to a mere cursed item. It had to be the ring the black mage had placed a curse upon. I frowned at the thought.
There would be other chances to exorcise it later. Why dispose of it now?
To me, Primor’s decision seemed impulsive—like a woman who had just broken up with her boyfriend and was throwing out every last trace of him.
Of course, if that’s truly how she feels, I won’t say anything…
But this wasn’t some boyfriend. It was a memento from her beloved late husband. For Primor, who would find remarriage difficult, discarding something given with such affection would only lead to regret later. So I let out a small sigh and spoke.
“If it is a cursed object, may I take a look at it?”
“You, Sir Nord?”
The bishop sounded surprised. He knew what I did for a living, but it must have seemed strange for an archaeologist or adventurer to show interest in a cursed item. I answered by selecting only the relevant facts.
“My wife is also under a curse. It doesn’t affect her daily life, and it has been partially lifted.”
“Ah, so that’s the situation…”
Once the bishop understood, the decision rested with Primor.
“…Can you lift it?”
She asked with a faint spark of hope in her eyes. I nodded. Primor nodded in return.
─The mage guard slid the box over to me.
Honestly a little nervous, I examined the ring inside with Odin's Eye. The moment I did, a bitter smile crossed my face.
It’s visible immediately.
The cleverly concealed curse on the ring revealed itself in less than a second. No matter how hard I stared at Veronica’s curse, I couldn’t see even a trace of its formula. I had stared so intently that our maid once misunderstood and began blushing while trying to remove her clothes.
At first I thought it was because my magic level was too low. But seeing this curse now made everything clear. The reason Odin's Eye could not perceive Veronica’s curse was simple: the source of that curse did not reside on Veronica herself.
It must operate on a different principle from ordinary curses.
Thinking about it, that made sense. Casting a curse on every Bicorn at birth would be practically impossible. In my opinion, the curse of the Aesir gods was the type whose power flowed in from elsewhere—like Humanum Dei.
That’s why even Odin's Eye cannot see it.
If I were to use a modern analogy, you can browse a website on your phone, but you cannot disassemble the phone to hack the website’s server. If the curse’s source existed in another location, like a remote server, then it stood to reason that this eye could not perceive it.
If I can locate that source someday… that will be the day the curse on all Bicorns is finally broken.
Imagining the future I would one day achieve, I reached out toward the curse.