Receive the Divine Weapon (1)
The day after the colossal Tree of Light vanished, Kenis and her companions received a summons from the Emperor. There were matters of grave importance to discuss, the message said; he requested their presence at the Imperial Palace.
Inside the carriage bound for the palace, Kenis turned to Demonic.
"Pala— ahem! Ah… Father…"
The unfamiliar address still sat awkwardly on her tongue. Demonic pretended nonchalance, yet the corners of his mouth trembled ever so slightly.
"…Yes."
"Um… why do you suppose His Majesty has called for us?"
Demonic’s expression grew solemn. There were any number of possibilities: the matter of the great Tree of Light, the return of the bereaved families, the still-unresolved plague of the Pestilence Rats…
If anything, there were too many.
"I can think of far too many reasons. We’ll simply have to hear him out."
"I suppose you’re right."
Kenis scratched her head with a sheepish smile. After that exchange, silence settled over the carriage.
In the stifling quiet, her gaze drifted to the window. The main thoroughfare still bore the scars of that day in places, yet the atmosphere was far from bleak.
Hope lit the face of the man clearing a shattered signboard; grim resolve hardened the features of the woman hauling fallen stones.
Surely it was because of the miracle the Tree of Light had left behind. Even the deepest wounds eventually close, and even the most terrible nightmares dissolve like morning mist once one awakens.
The carriage rolled slowly along the healing avenue toward the Imperial Palace.
Knock, knock.
"Your Majesty, the Apostles have arrived."
"Show them in."
The heavy, ornate doors swung open. Beyond them sat Caesar, and beside him a small boy—a golden-haired child with soft curls.
"Your Majesty, how is your health?"
As the eldest of the party, Demonic stepped forward and offered the greeting.
"Splendid. Couldn’t be better."
Indeed, Caesar looked remarkably vigorous. Considering the mountain of state business he had cleared these past few days, one might almost believe him a superhuman of paperwork.
"It is a great relief to see Your Majesty so hale. And…"
Demonic’s eyes shifted to the little boy. Seven or eight years old at most, the small figure was the Empire’s little sun—the Emperor’s only son.
"…to see the Crown Prince in such fine health as well."
"Indeed. Truly the gods have watched over the Empire."
A spark of interest lit Demonic’s eyes. The Emperor himself offering thanks to the divine?
"These past days the Empire has weathered many crises by the grace of the great god’s miracles—the Pestilence Rats, the Demon Plague, even the demons who had been working in secret…"
Caesar ruffled Julius’s hair as he continued.
"Most fortunately, the god has protected the Empire, and through the devotion and efforts of the Apostles and so many others, we have overcome it all. How moving and sacred a thing! How worthy of praise!"
And so—
"I have reached a decision."
Rising from his seat, Caesar grasped the scepter. Soft radiance spilled from the staff shaped like two lions holding the sun in their jaws.
"I have resolved to change the Empire’s national title."
"Its… national title, Your Majesty?"
"Yes. Sir Kenis—do you happen to know the Empire’s official name?"
Kenis, who had been standing blankly behind Demonic, started and looked at Caesar.
"E-excuse me? The Empire’s name?"
She hurriedly rummaged through her memory.
The Empire’s name, the Empire’s name… She had no idea. Everyone simply called it “the Empire,” or sometimes “the Thousand-Year Empire.”
With a flustered expression she answered,
"Um… I… I do not know, Your Majesty."
Caesar laughed heartily and waved it off, clearly unbothered.
"It’s fine, perfectly fine. Not knowing is only natural. Even the Empire’s own people sometimes get confused about the name."
"Your Majesty, what do you mean by that…?"
"Heh. Do you know how long it has been since the Empire was founded? A full thousand years have passed. A thousand years! Back when the Empire was founded a millennium ago, there was apparently a custom of deliberately giving a country an absurdly long name to display its majesty."
"Surely not…"
"Indeed. The founding Emperor of a thousand years ago followed that custom when he created the national title. And that title is… ‘Rtequir Orlan Murquie Atenia Norcus Yucurie Murtago.’ That is the Empire’s official name."
Kenis suddenly felt her mind go blank. Wh-what? Rtequir… what?
How could a nation’s name possibly be something like that?
Seeing her expression, Caesar burst out laughing.
"Haha—! That face is priceless. I understand completely. Across the generations we have tried several times to change this wretched name, yet the old fossils of the nobility blocked us every time, prattling on about ‘tradition’ and other such nonsense."
Julius toddled over and flung himself against Caesar’s leg. With a fond smile Caesar stroked the boy’s hair, then flourished the scepter.
"It is high time we discarded that tiresome talk of tradition. Is it even sensible that the people do not know the name of their own country? I will change the Empire’s national title—without fail!"
At Caesar’s passionate cry the party’s faces went blank. Why was he telling them about renaming the Empire?
Caesar composed himself, cleared his throat, and continued.
"Ahem, ahem! Forgive the brief lapse in dignity. You must understand—this has been a long-cherished ambition spanning generations of my line…"
"I… I see…"
"Quite. And so, as for how I intend to change the Empire’s name…"
Caesar paused for effect.
"Since the great god has protected the Empire, I shall borrow that glory… and name it the Holy Romanian Empire."
Raising the scepter that blazed brilliantly in the sunlight streaming through the window, Caesar declared,
"From this day forth, the Empire shall be reborn as the Holy Romanian Empire."
Thus was born a truly sacred and magnificent empire.
The Holy City, Civitas.
Sacred ground of the continent’s faith, spiritual capital, homeland of belief…
Morning in this small city-state was quiet. Before the early sun had even stretched its limbs, before the priests had begun their dawn prayers, one man was already moving.
He jolted awake from deep sleep and hurried about his work. With practiced hands he began pumping the bellows of the forge, then carefully inspected every tool to ensure the night dew had not damaged them.
"Hmm…"
The rough, thick calluses on his hands spoke of the life he had lived. Stern eyes and stubbornly set lips. A face flushed red from the heat of the fire.
The forge was his home, his life, and his cradle.
Adam, foremost blacksmith of the Holy City.
Those around him, out of respect, had affixed the title “Smith”—meaning blacksmith—to his name, calling him Adam Smith. Adam took immense pride in the fact.
It meant the world had recognized his skill and placed that title before his name. He possessed no small measure of confidence in his own ability.
"…I don’t understand."
Yet these past few months that pride had been steadily crumbling. The cause lay in the longsword he now held.
A single longsword was shaking his ironclad self-assurance to its core.
"…I simply can’t figure it out."
Adam stared fixedly at the longsword resting on the anvil. This “Weapon of the God” whose fame had recently spread far and wide among adventurers.
When Adam first heard the rumor that a god had forged a weapon, a blacksmith’s fervor had boiled up inside him.
It was pure instinct. Just as a newborn seeks its mother’s milk, he, as a blacksmith, craved the god’s weapon.
Securing even this one longsword had required tremendous effort. The mysterious weapon possessed the property of returning to its owner the moment it left a certain range.
Because of that, he had had to thoroughly butter up one adventurer and go to every length imaginable. Only by offering free room and board in the house above the forge had he finally managed to borrow the divine weapon.
"This luster… truly exquisite."
The rapture he had felt upon first touching the blade! Adam swore he had never, in his entire life, laid hands on so perfect an edge.
At first his enthusiasm had blazed. He had believed that with his skill he could unravel every secret of even a god’s weapon—materials, forging process, everything. He had done such reverse-engineering many times before.
The first step had gone smoothly. He identified the material of the sword at once.
The material of that brilliantly golden blade was… astonishingly, copper.
"Copper…? This sword is made of copper?"
A blade forged purely of copper. Adam could scarcely believe it. Copper was an extremely soft metal… how had anyone crafted a sword so sturdy and sharp from it?
Feeling his thirst for knowledge surge, Adam threw himself back into research with renewed vigor.
Yet… before long he slammed into a wall.
Whatever sorcery had been worked upon the blade, it refused to melt even when thrust into a roaring furnace, and not a single nick appeared no matter how hard he struck it with an iron hammer.
Adam sank into deep despair. He possessed burning passion; he had the chance to learn the techniques of a god. Yet cruel reality seemed determined to deny him even a shred of hope.
"Master…"
His apprentices approached hesitantly from behind. They were worried about the man who for days had neither eaten nor drunk, snatching only catnaps while obsessing over a single sword.
Indeed, Adam’s eyes were sunken; he looked ready to collapse at any moment.
"Get out! Get out of my sight this instant!"
Adam snapped irritably. The unsolved mystery of the longsword had left him extremely on edge these past days.
As the apprentices fled in a flurry, Adam slumped to the floor. His chest felt tight; the way forward seemed utterly dark. The longsword imbued with divine technique lay right before his eyes, yet its secrets remained stubbornly hidden from him.
If only he could meet the god himself and—
"Meet… him?"
A bolt of lightning seemed to strike Adam’s mind. Yes—that was it! That was the answer!
Why was he fretting alone? All he had to do was ask the one who made it!
"Ha… haha!! I’ve got it!! I’ve got it!! That’s exactly it!!"
Overwhelmed by the pure joy surging up from deep within, Adam leapt to his feet and bolted out into the street.
"I’ve got it!!! I’ve figured it out!! Hahaha!! I know what to do!!"
In the grip of that boiling elation he raced through the streets, shouting at the top of his lungs. Everyone had to share in this joy.
"Sir, would you mind coming with us for a moment?"
Adam was promptly taken into custody by the city guard for disturbing the peace with his loud revelry.