Journey to the Empire
Every gaze in the room snapped to me at once.
"......Ah—yes. Join... right, join. Yes, of course!"
Anasha, who had been staring blankly at me for a moment, hastily recovered her smile and nodded.
I gave a casual little glance as if nothing were amiss, then quietly slipped away from the center of attention.
...What is with these reactions?
Was my appearance really something that could freeze the atmosphere this thoroughly?
However lacking my manners might be, there was no need to embarrass me like this. It wasn't as if I'd wanted to possess this body either.
Or maybe there was something I'd missed. After more than a year cooped up in the Snow Castle, whatever scraps of social sense I'd once had might have simply evaporated.
I was annoyed enough to consider backing out then and there—but the same sort of thing would probably keep happening once I reached the Empire anyway. In that case, it couldn't hurt to get a little practice in first.
"Where's she from? Have you ever seen her before?"
"If I'd ever laid eyes on a beauty like that even once, there's no way I wouldn't remember..."
I could see them perfectly well, whispering and stealing glances. Having no desire whatsoever to know what they were talking about, I deliberately kept myself isolated.
Apparently my irritation was showing on my face; anyone whose eyes met mine flinched and looked away at once.
"Is there anyone else who wishes to join us? Then please finish your preparations... Those of you coming along today, pack your things quickly. We depart before long."
Anasha looked around again, drawing their attention back to herself.
The citizens, who had been murmuring a moment before, returned to serious conversation.
Once you'd resolved to leave the city, there was nothing to gain by hesitating. No one knew when the Snake God might appear again, and the great houses certainly wouldn't welcome the idea of people walking out.
The refugees had little tying them to the city, and their luggage was accordingly modest.
With numbers like these, horses or carriages seemed out of the question. They would have to match pace with the group anyway, so spending money on mounts would have been largely pointless.
From my perspective, that was ideal. I didn't know how to ride, and boarding a carriage would mean being stuck shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers the entire way.
"I'll join as well. I expect I'll be the last."
That calm voice belonged to Sigilla.
She, too, must have been interested; she declared her intent to come along.
There were no further requests after that, and the roster was set. A few hours later, the band of refugees set out for the Empire.
—And someone was watching them in silence.
The watchers Lacitea had planted throughout the city.
Securing eyes and ears as a ruling house was hardly a practice exclusive to the Crase family.
A Bion informant posing as a citizen near the relay station reported to his master the moment the procession left.
"They ought to have kept their heads down and stayed quiet... instead they go and pull this useless stunt..."
Andark Bion, the paunchy head of the Bion family, spat the words as if chewing them.
Gone was the ridiculous performance he had put on in the streets alongside the Snake God. What remained was simply a rotten leader—the very archetype of one.
"Tsk... We chose poorly. We should have dealt with that woman first."
The gaunt Vidor Griant picked up the thread. His appearance was the complete opposite of Andark's, but unfortunately their natures were much the same.
The two of them were meeting in private to discuss a response to the report. The matter at hand: Anasha Sheril and her company.
The question was how to handle them.
"We've been offering up those with the weakest ties to the city first all this time, and yet one little rat turns out to be this quick on her feet."
Anasha had settled here some years ago. Her name had slipped down the priority list, and they hadn't paid her any mind—who would have guessed she would set the whole place alight like this?
Both family heads felt as if they'd been struck across the back of the skull.
"'I formally petition for the subjugation of the Snake God'... Do you think those words have any real chance of succeeding?"
"Common sense says it's impossible. What connection does our Uristia have with the Empire?"
Their true feelings, however, were different.
Even if the odds were low, they were not zero. Contemplating the worst case left them distinctly uneasy.
It also rankled that they had no way of knowing how much standing Anasha still held in the Empire.
"She was clearly no one of consequence. Otherwise, why crawl all the way into a city like this?"
At Andark's words, Vidor let out a thoughtful hum.
"Even so, she was a retainer of the Grifeon family, was she not? That means she has a hill to climb if things go wrong."
The Grifeon ducal house.
Even within an Empire famous for its lofty houses, theirs was a name that commanded renown.
Their power was incomparable to that of any family in a mere city-state. If matters went awry, they would not be opponents one could simply handle.
If even that famous hero of the ducal house—the Swordmaster—were to come, it would be over.
So if they wanted a clean resolution, they would have to wipe out Anasha—no, her entire company—before they ever reached the Empire.
The problem was the method.
"...Sending private soldiers is the worst option. If anything goes wrong, we won't escape the consequences."
Of course they would send them in disguise—but even then, there were plenty of ways to make a man talk, torture among them.
More importantly, those private soldiers were the sword and shield that protected their own safety. From the Crase family's "hidden blades," which were always watching for an opening.
"What about mercenaries? Hand them enough coin and you'll find no mouths heavier."
"Which is another way of saying they're utterly powerless before a larger purse. Do you think the Empire and the Grifeons have less gold than we do?"
"Ahem..."
Silence settled over the private chamber for a moment.
The two family heads were wringing every last drop from their meager brains, searching for a way out.
In truth, simply letting them go was one option.
The odds of Anasha's petition being accepted were low, and even if it passed and Imperial troops came pouring in, the only thing that would vanish was the Snake God.
Bion and Griant would remain unscathed.
The sole black mark was the Crase family—but that once-illustrious house had long since entered its decline. Their head might possess a leader's qualities, but she was still only a young girl.
As for the hidden blades, if the two houses combined their strength and fortified their defenses, cutting off a family head's neck would be no easy task.
Crase would likely fall before it ever came to that. Neither of the two heads was unaware of the fact.
But they were already addicted to overwhelming power. Even the troublesome Crase family, even the citizens who had been a constant nuisance—one stamp of the Snake God's foot, and they all fell silent as if their mouths were full of honey.
The idea that this absolute force called the Snake God might disappear was now beyond imagination.
How many minutes passed? The gloomy Vidor struck upon a clever idea.
"...What if we leave it to the god?"
"To the Snake God...?"
Andark's eyes flew open for an instant—then lit with interest. It was indeed a clever idea.
"An excellent plan... no, the finest possible. With the Snake God, not a single trace of ours would remain. And beyond that—is it not a weapon more powerful than hundreds of mercenaries?"
There would be no need to mobilize private soldiers, and thus no need to fret over a Crase ambush.
Anasha might be an excellent mage, and her party might be reasonably numerous, but there was no method of withstanding a god.
Even in the one-in-a-million chance of failure, they themselves would never be identified as the ones behind it.
And furthermore...
"...We won't have to worry about offerings for a while."
"Quite so. Heh heh..."
The Snake God's appetite, which never seemed to diminish no matter how much it ate.
They had carefully selected and quietly disposed of people so as to avoid arousing the citizens' suspicions as much as possible—but it had been an exceedingly troublesome task.
For a time, though, they would be able to rest.
Because of this affair, the Snake God would feast.
Sorap had "somewhat" forcibly confiscated the music box and arrived at the family head's office.
The moment he stepped inside, however, he stopped.
There was already a guest.
"My, my—so that was the Snake God of rumor just now. Truly, its majesty lived up to every word without the slightest exaggeration. Please accept my deepest condolences, my lady."
"...Thank you."
The visitor was Fett—the scholar's assistant and researcher who had previously met Quillere.
He had come seeking the head of House Crase for his own private purposes. Lacitea glanced briefly at Sorap, then fixed her attention on Fett.
"You want a letter of recommendation?"
At her question, Fett smiled brightly.
"To be honest, there are things I covet more. The Crase family treasures, for instance, or the family seal itself...... But excessive greed is unwise. A single letter of recommendation is enough for me. More precisely—a letter of recommendation bearing the family head's seal."
It was an insolent remark.
Lacitea barely managed to keep the corner of her eye from twitching. Losing her composure would only mean falling for the other party's tricks.
She shifted her thinking and analyzed rather than simply growing angry.
That bold, composed, confident bearing was indeed worthy of a disciple of the theologian Agnatz.
The same went for his fixation on achievements. It was said that every one of Lord Agnatz's disciples was outstanding, and that they were all obsessed with competing for accomplishments that would earn their master's recognition.
Lacitea did not know the finer details of that world.
But it was clear that Fett was no ordinary man.
"Of course, I don't mean to ask for it free of charge. I've come to propose a trade."
"A trade... Very well. I'm listening."
As the disciple of a great scholar known even as a sage, he was unlikely to speak nonsense.
There was a high probability he carried something that matched that self-assured attitude. Even so, as one responsible for her house, she could not allow herself to be drawn in lightly.
Lacitea steeled herself and sharpened her gaze. There was no true dignity in it yet.
Once she came of age she would surely wear a clear air of refinement—but for now she was still only a small girl.
More than that, Fett's standards had temporarily risen very high indeed.
The cause was a certain woman he had met not long ago.
......She might have been a mirage, or a spirit.
"Have the monsters been showing any unusual behavior of late?"
The topic Fett raised next was one already familiar to Lacitea.
It was an important matter within the family—one that needed to be handled with urgency.
"How did you—no. Quite a few citizens already know. What of it?"
"The culprit is the Snake God."
"......What?"
She had vaguely suspected as much herself.
But suspicion and assertion were different things entirely.
One might doubt—but how was one supposed to prove it?
"The Snake God... or perhaps I should call it a 'false god.' My master has conducted independent research into such beings."
Fett began to unfold the story in a low voice.
In truth, Agnatz was not a man who could properly be called a theologian alone.
That title was merely a convenient label attached because theology was the field in which he was most passionate and most actively engaged.
Living up to the epithet of sage, Agnatz had mastered a wide range of disciplines and fields, displaying talent of an entirely different order.
In the long years he had wandered the world for the sake of research, he had even encountered beings called "gods" in foreign lands.
Through investigation and inquiry... he had arrived at the conviction that such beings originated from the ruins of the gods.
"You're saying the Snake God is one of those beings as well?"
"I am. It likely never reached the ruins of the east or west, so I suspect the origin lies in the ruins beyond the desert villages of the south. Had it been the north, it could not have escaped the Holy Kingdom's interference."
It was a reasonable argument.
Setting aside the demonic realms of east and west left two candidates, and whether one considered the environment of the ruins or the distance to this place, the south was far more probable.
"Why it passed over the desert villages and came all the way here to Uristia remains a mystery, but... in any case."
Agnatz had named such beings "false gods." And he had also discovered the phenomenon by which monsters changed in the vicinity of a false god.
The demonic energy exhaled by gods that were not gods was surely the cause.
The transformed monsters grew denser in magical power and more savage in temperament, making them highly dangerous.
Within the research institute, such creatures were classified as "mutated monsters." Some of the senior disciples had argued for describing it as contamination... but they had followed their master's opinion in the end.
"Mutated monsters must be a troublesome headache from your perspective as family head. They make the already difficult work of monster culling even harder. The increased urgency is a serious problem as well."
Periodic monster clearing had been difficult from the start.
The areas where monsters appeared were vast, while the number of combat personnel was small. By combat personnel, he meant those skilled enough to face monsters properly.
Monster clearing almost invariably produced casualties, so ordinary soldiers would not do.
At this point, Lacitea grew curious.
Just what was this man trying to say?
As if answering her unspoken question, Fett continued.
"Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about the Snake God itself. Regarding the mutated monsters, however... I believe I may be able to offer a little help."
He lifted his head slightly.
"The mutated monsters haven't been slaughtering all the animals in the mountains, have they?"
And then he posed another question.
"...Yes. That phenomenon has certainly been reported."
"Ordinary monsters don't go that far. If they attack animals, it's to fill their bellies—there is no other purpose. Mutated monsters are different. That is why the ecosystem around a false god always collapses, and the people nearby are forced to suffer food shortages."
Fett's words cut straight to the heart of another crisis currently facing Uristia.
The city's peril was not the Snake God alone.
The mutated monsters were a problem as well.
The principle behind their frenzied behavior was nearly impossible to grasp, and the damage only continued to mount.
Then Fett resolved the mystery.
"I'll share some valuable information. The abnormal behavior of mutated monsters is caused entirely by sound."
"Sound...?"
"Yes. Sound."
Having uncovered the false gods, Agnatz had next taken mutated monsters as subjects of study.
Through various experiments, he had learned that the monsters' transformation was rooted not in touch or smell, but in hearing.
They primarily reacted to clear, bright sounds—birds, insects in the grass, and the like.
They did not react to human shouting.
But they did react to the sound of a person stepping on a twig.
They had become hypersensitive to specific sounds.
As another example, when a false god settled in a coastal region, the surrounding monsters displayed aggression toward the sound of the sea and toward marine life.
This confirmed that the mutation affected hearing.
"My master stopped his research there, but I continued my own private studies. As a result, I succeeded in inventing a proud magical tool—the Sound Bomb."
Fett drew a small, bead-like object from a pouch at his belt.
His bright voice rang out.
"This works on all mutated monsters. Detonate it nearby and they flee; detonate it from a distance and they come running. I guarantee it will prove useful in any number of ways—for hunting or for escape."
The conversation was reaching its climax.
"Of course, the production costs are not trivial. And so I propose this to you, my lady. Would you not enter into an exclusive contract with me... or rather, with my workshop? If you would advance a suitable sum, I will supply them only to House Crase. Then, once you have verified their performance, the letter of recommendation......"
"My lady."
Sorap cut into Fett's impassioned speech.
He had been holding his tongue, but the conversation had dragged on far too long.
In his lord's presence he would normally have refrained from anything that might be considered rude—but he was slightly excited.
"There is something I must show you."
At the thought of offering this astonishing object to his lord.