The Weather Looks Fine Today
"Oh, the weather seems rather nice today."
"..."
"..."
It was a leisurely afternoon. Perhaps it was the mild weather, but even the people coming and going along the street seemed unhurried — or maybe that was only my imagination. On an afternoon like that, we had taken a table at a restaurant, intending, at least, to eat.
The Hero was in no condition to simply sit down to a meal, and the rather aggressively seasoned fare a place like this served wouldn't have done her any good besides. Considering her strength and her stubborn hold on life, eating it wouldn't have killed her or sent her condition into a sudden spiral — but it would unquestionably have cost her more time to recover.
And so only the half-elf sitting across from us and I had meant to eat. We ordered, we finished, and then the Hero and I waited for him to speak. The first words out of his mouth were that the weather was nice today.
"Hey. You said you had something to tell us...!!"
The Hero's voice came out low and tight, a little angry. Watching her try so hard to hold it in was almost moving. In the old days, there was every chance she would already have been shouting and seizing him by the collar.
This journey was to save her life, besides. No matter how strong a person was, a little impatience in the face of one's own death was only natural. Honestly, we hadn't even needed to hear him out — but the Hero had said that as long as we were eating anyway, we might as well listen. It wasn't anyone else asking. If she put it that way, I had no intention of refusing. This was not a journey to save my life. It was a journey to save hers.
"I'm sorry. I was nervous. My name is Sylphy. I don't have a surname. Just Sylphy."
"Right, Sylphy. I'm Livia, and this is Lois. Why'd you call us over? What did you want to talk about?"
"I know it's rude of me, but I saw you fighting on the ship earlier."
"So it was you. You're pretty good."
"No — I've always been confident in my ability to stay hidden."
A concealment technique, then.
As I had said before, this world required the talented to work if they wished to become first-rate, and those without talent were rarely even given the chance. That was the general rule. It wasn't entirely impossible to break — but for most people, it might as well have been.
Among the arts on which talent weighed especially heavily, spirit magic was one. Concealment techniques were another. The user wrapped something like a barrier around themselves, vanishing from sight and suppressing their presence to the absolute limit, which was why assassins so often learned the skill. It required an inborn disposition, of course, so even an assassin was not guaranteed to have it. Having it simply made one extremely well suited to the work.
There were others who used it to hide from dangerous monsters while gathering hazardous herbs and the like. Used well, it could be used for any amount of good. But in the world as it stood, it was famous as a technique convenient for assassins, and its reputation was not a kind one.
So that's why he's hesitating. He can't know how we'll treat him if he says it.
"That's amazing! A stealth technique? Barely anyone can even use those!"
"...Ah — yes! I've never met anyone else who could, either!"
"Right? Even traveling around, I've only ever met enough to count on one hand!"
Pure, unguarded admiration. To Olivia Reinhardt, the good or evil of a power did not matter. To her, even the Power of the Evil God was a force for good if it was used for the right cause. To her, even the Goddess's power was a force for evil if it was used to do harm. Power was not what was wicked. The person who wielded it was. And Sylphy had not yet done anything wicked, so the Hero had no reason to feel unkindly toward him.
Not that we would know. Whether he had truly never used it for anything ugly was another matter entirely.
"Ah, sorry. Please, go on."
"Yes... I'm from Half Village."
"Half Village?"
"It's exactly what it sounds like — a village where halves live together. Discrimination against mixed-blood people has been severe since long ago, and half-elves in particular... no, um."
Am I even the one who should be saying this?
"Half-elves in particular... what?"
The Hero looked at me. I glanced toward Sylphy. He seemed to have read from my face that I was someone who knew his history, and he gave an awkward little smile.
"You're fond of history."
"Most people go through life without knowing."
"Please, go ahead."
"All right."
Elves were the representative long-lived race, possessed of the longest lifespans among all the peoples of the world. Which meant that Sylphy, being a half-elf, would live a considerably long time himself. He looked my age or even younger, but in truth he was probably older than the Hero and I put together.
"You know there was a war between humans and elves, in the past?"
"Yeah."
"The cause has never been clearly established. Human records say it began because of the elves. Elven records say it began because of the humans."
"..."
"After a great war, they entered what they called a temporary ceasefire, and a cold war followed. Of the elves who had lived through that age of war, all but one are dead at this point. Numbers told against them no matter how you looked at it, and in the end they had no choice but to go beyond a ceasefire and take each other's hands for the sake of peace."
"Yes. That was the moment elves properly entered human society. Until then, there were people who treated elves as monsters."
"I see. But what's that got to do with discriminating against half-elves?"
It felt a little wrong to have this conversation in front of a half-elf — but it was still better than making him say it himself.
"There was a war, and then a ceasefire, as I said. And it took time after they joined hands before the war truly ended."
"It did."
"Around that time, elven slaves were common."
"...!"
The Hero's eyes went wide. Slavery had been completely abolished now, but there had been an age when it was simply common sense, and even the enslavement of human by human had been an everyday thing.
"Elves in particular — men and women alike — kept their youth for a very long time, and they fit human standards of beauty."
"You don't mean—"
"They were enslaved and raped, and from that a great number of half-elves were born."
"Th-the conditions were terrible, weren't they? I know this sounds wrong to say, but those aren't conditions where a child would even be born. If you think about how wretchedly slaves were treated...!"
"Elves have strong vitality. That doesn't change even for an infant. And even a slave couldn't be treated too roughly."
Someone might think, They're my slave — why shouldn't I treat them roughly? But a slave was, at base, property. And did one not take a poor impression of a person who mishandled their property? In public, at least, they could even look like people in an ordinary relationship of superior and subordinate. Only the cold iron chain at the throat would tell you they were slaves. The law, moreover, required that food, clothing, and shelter be provided. The treatment was better than what people typically imagined when they heard the word. That said, it was still the treatment of slaves, so of course it was nothing good.
"There was a period when half-elves were produced in great numbers that way. Among humans they were persecuted as lesser. Among elves they were treated as living symbols of hatred, and tormented for it."
A sharp crack rang out.
"Ah — um...!"
Sylphy stopped mid-sentence and shut his mouth. It was the sound of the spoon the Hero had been holding snapping in two. I had to wonder why she'd been holding it when she wasn't even eating — and more to the point, if she broke it, I would be the one paying for it. I didn't much feel like pressing the issue. The look on the Hero's face was too grim for that.
"Livia. You're not going to take that out on him, are you?"
"I'm not! ...No. Sorry. ...I've really only ever swung a sword. I didn't know about any of this."
"It's all right. I'm actually glad you're angry."
"Humans are one thing, but the elves too...!! Even if their own people were forced to bear them, the children who were born don't have a shred of guilt! And they hated you for it? Are all elves like that!?"
"Livia."
"...!"
Her voice had risen too far. I set a finger to my lips, and the Hero crumpled again and bowed her head. Fortunately it was a quiet hour, and there was no one on the second floor — though her voice had probably carried a little even to the floor below.
"I-it's been quite a while since the war ended, hasn't it? Wouldn't the elves accept you now?"
"It would be difficult."
"Why?"
The Hero looked at me. I took a drink of water before I answered.
"A moment ago I said that by the time the war ended, only one elf who remembered that age was still alive."
"You did."
"That elf is the current Titania — that is to say, the Elven Queen. I've never met her myself, but from what I hear, the hostility toward half-elves centers on her. She wouldn't go so far as to seek you out and throw stones. She simply said: do not appear before me."
"You know it well. That's a line you'd only find in an elven history book."
"I'm rather fond of books."
Why Titania was still alive at all was a mystery. It would not have been strange if an elf's lifespan had ended long ago, and yet she lived. It was as if time had stopped for her alone.
"How...? That... Not only born without a blessing — hated by people for the crime of being born. Is that supposed to be right?"
The Hero was only speaking honestly, but I could see a clear goodwill in Sylphy's eyes. The fear on his face earlier had probably been fear of her strength. Talking with her, he seemed to have decided that however hot-tempered she might be, she was not a bad person.
"That old hag..."
"Old hag?"
"No — haha! Never mind!"
For reference, the Hero had been to Elvenheim before, and she would have gone as the Hero, so she had almost certainly met Titania. Calling her an old hag didn't suggest the impression had been a good one. Or perhaps it had been, and it wasn't anymore.
"I still can't accept it... The children who were born didn't do anything wrong."
"Not everyone makes rational choices."
"..."
"Some from trauma. Some from greed. Some from affection... People make all kinds of wrong choices. Anyone can commit a mistake or a wrong, and everyone has something worth regretting. Even you, Livia. Don't you?"
"...Yeah."
"And in that moment, a person chooses again — whether to admit the wrong and try not to repeat it, or to tell themselves they did nothing wrong and sink into self-justification... or to linger somewhere in between."
"I see... So is Titania making the wrong choice, then? Is she regretting it? Is she looking for a chance to set it right?"
"I don't know. You couldn't know without meeting her yourself."
Rumor had it she was a somewhat exacting queen, but not a bad one. Still, there was no answering a question like this without meeting her in person. I could only hope that some measure of wisdom, at least, remained to her.
"I had you. A new chance. But what about her...? I'll have to meet her and talk to her after all."
"I'm relieved. You heard the story and didn't draw your sword calling her a villain."
"When have I ever... All right, I've given people plenty of reason to expect that."
"Still, I'm glad you're still you, Livia."
"I'm me. Who else would I be?"
"Who else, indeed."
"Huh? Did we just have a whole conversation? Just now? Us?"
Even after everything she had been through, she was still so human. And having come through it, she seemed to shine all the more. That was no small thing. A betrayal of that magnitude — her entire life denied — and still she could be angry on someone else's behalf, could feel for Sylphy whom she had only just met, could raise her voice against an injustice.
"...Ah, forgive us. We got caught up talking between ourselves."
"I-it's fine! ...Um. This is a bit forward, but... are the two of you lovers?"
"Pardon?"
"...!"
A new feeling slipped into the Hero's eyes, which a moment ago had been seething with anger.
"That's right!"
"No, we are not."
"We're going to be!"
"..."
"Ah — ahaha... You two seem like you've known each other a long time. It's nice to see."
"...You've got a good eye, huh?"
It was hard to believe this was the same person who had been grinding her teeth in fury a moment before. How quickly her feelings changed was the same as ever. If you wanted to call it a virtue, she was the sort of person who could get angry and then forget it just as fast, and enjoy whatever came next.
"Ahem. So — you mentioned Half Village. That's a village of half-elves?"
"There are a lot of half-elves, basically. But there are other halves too. Half-Dragonkin, half-dwarves, and so on."
"Discrimination against halves has lessened a great deal in recent years, but there are still people who do it. And it's easy to be discriminated against from both sides, not just one, so there's no question that halves have a hard time living in this world."
"Yeah..."
Outwardly, of course, more people had the moral sense not to discriminate. But the voice of a single person without a conscience was louder than a hundred who had one. There were plenty who spat one-sided hatred and cursed others as if savoring their own superiority, and even surrounded by good people, it was common enough to take a wound from a single cruel remark that would not fade. There were few things more wretched than being discriminated against for a race you could not change.
"So what's the problem there?"
"The Death God Cult."
"Ugh, those goddamn fanatics. They're still around?"
"Livia. Please rephrase that."
The Hero thought for a moment, then tried again.
"Wow, those remarkable individuals who borrow a god's name while committing atrocities! I do wonder why they haven't gone to join the God of Death yet?"
Just using polite speech didn't make it polite. Well. They were the sort of people who deserved to be talked about that way, I supposed.