The Forest Where Spirits Dwell - 04
"The Four Great Noble Families?"
"House Reinhardt was one of those Four Great Noble Families, wasn't it? Don't you want to restore that honor?"
"Huh? Not really, no."
"Hmm. You don't feel any attachment to your own house?"
"Do I have to? They're just the four families that can become king, right? I don't see any other value in it."
"That alone is an enormous value, though."
There were nobles who would manufacture any achievement they could, clawing for a way into the Four Great Noble Families. Everyone understood, of course, that such a wish was originally impossible — a childhood dream, like stretching a hand toward the stars, that one was meant to abandon eventually. But then the Reynolds family had actually seized House Reinhardt's seat and become a new member of the Four Great Noble Families, and suddenly it was no longer an impossible dream. It had become a position everyone coveted.
"In other words, you have no interest in the revival of your house itself."
"Honestly, even if House Reinhardt were restored, it wouldn't be because of anything else — it'd be because I'm there. What could a house like that even do as one of the Four Great Noble Families?"
"..."
She had a point. If Livia had possessed any talent for politics, it might have been a different story — but she didn't, not in the slightest. Even if House Reinhardt rose again, what could it accomplish without Livia as its pillar? That was a question I couldn't quite shake. Aside from being the only family that produced Heroes, they had never had any particularly notable achievements to their name. That title had been stripped from them, and Livia herself had ended up like this. The revival of House Reinhardt might, frankly, be impossible.
"Oh, come to think of it, I have an uncle. He was always hungry for power..."
"Is he still alive?"
"He's probably still in the Royal Capital, doing just fine. He must've heard I was dead, so I bet he's drowning himself in drink right about now."
"Because he lost you?"
"Well, yeah... but you know how it is. It's not because I mattered to him. It's because the only person who could have rebuilt House Reinhardt is dead."
"..."
"Well, even if I'm officially dead, the honor of having slain the Demon King will still remain. There might be fewer people cursing the family than before. But returning to the Four Great Noble Families? That's a pipe dream."
Even if Livia had returned alive, she would have taken one look at the situation and immediately set off again — to hunt down another Demon King Army Cadre, or to save people who were still suffering. Thinking about it that way, House Reinhardt was never going to recover anyway. Olivia Reinhardt was the Hero, but she didn't seem to feel much attachment to being a member of House Reinhardt. Then again, considering what a wreck her family life had been, it would have been stranger if she had.
"Do you hate House Reinhardt?"
"Yeah, it's complicated. ...Back then I figured, well, it's my family, so maybe I should care. Lately, though, I've been thinking."
"Thinking what?"
"That maybe my childhood was actually pretty miserable."
"...After all this time?"
"Yeah."
Livia nodded.
"..."
I fell silent for a moment, watching her. For Livia, perhaps all of that near-abuse had been something she had brainwashed herself into accepting as necessary — the price of becoming the Hero. That was why she had never hated her family. But as her awareness of herself as Olivia, not the Hero but simply a person, continued to grow, she seemed to be beginning to understand that what she had endured was not normal. That it was something she could not, and should not, love.
A tool forged solely to slay the Demon King had become a person, and in becoming a person, she had begun to feel human emotions. Becoming human had given her many good feelings — but it had also forced her to feel the things she had once been able to ignore and live with as if they were nothing. That, I suspected, was leaving her with a tangle of complicated emotions.
"Hmm. Still, I don't think it was as bad as yours, Lois."
"Mine?"
"Objectively speaking, you've had a pretty miserable life too, haven't you? At least I never had to worry about food, clothing, or shelter. But you're from the slums. Even that must've been hard, right?"
"Well... you're not wrong."
Livia was right. Living day to day had been a struggle. I had been grateful to have survived today, and I had lived praying that I would survive tomorrow. Surprisingly, there had been quite a few people of deep faith in those slums. You might wonder what faith even meant in a neighborhood where people died every day — but it was precisely because it was such a desperate place that the devout existed. And if you wanted to pray, a fair number of people would gather.
There was even an unspoken rule that, unless you were truly rotten, you didn't touch people who were praying. Of course, it was only an unspoken rule, so some people ignored it anyway — but I had seen enough people who didn't that those were the ones who stuck with me. I had been one of them. Alex had mocked me for it, but I had believed that having a place to rest your heart was important.
Is God watching us?
And if so, what would He be thinking? It might be misguided to expect a transcendent being to share our sense of morality — but was He at least listening to the words of those who prayed? If He knew that their lives were filled with truly agonizing choices, what expression would He wear? If I ever met the Goddess, there was something I wanted to ask her. Had our goodness meant anything? Had it been worth more than those who believed in malice? Even if I heard her answer, I wouldn't change as a person. But I believed I had to hear it, at the very least.
"Do you believe in God, Livia?"
"The Goddess?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm the Hero, so I show her the minimum of respect. Her existence itself is obvious enough — the Holy Sword, the Saintess, all those miracles that couldn't possibly happen naturally. I know she's there. But what kind of being is she, really?"
"I wonder about that too."
"The Spirit of the World Tree said that if we're lucky, we might even be able to have an audience with the Goddess in the Spirit Forest. There's something I really want to ask her. If I meet her, there's something I want to ask."
"May I ask what that is?"
I was a little surprised even as I asked. It seemed Livia, like me, had something she wanted to ask. Unlike me — who was nothing more than an ordinary person — Livia was the Hero chosen by the Goddess. She might have even more questions than I did.
"I want to ask why she chose me as the Hero."
"..."
"There were other brave people besides me. They didn't have power, but they still staked their lives to protect something. Watching people charge forward even knowing they would die — that's when I started to believe that anyone could become a Hero."
The incident at East Port, I supposed. Whatever had happened around that time, it seemed to have been shocking enough to rewrite Livia's entire worldview.
"Why did she pick me as the Hero, leaving behind all those people who were brave even without power? Was it just because I was strong? Maybe that's how you end up with something like the Rogue Hero."
"..."
"I want to ask the Goddess. Why me, of all people? Why... she chose me as the Hero."
"And is there an answer that would satisfy you?"
Livia hummed, thought for a moment, then answered.
"Probably not. But I still just want to hear the answer. This isn't a question I'm asking to be convinced of something. I just want to hear her reply."
I see. Livia had once told me that she and I seemed alike. I had laughed it off at the time, but here we both were, with questions we wanted to ask the Goddess — and those questions were the same kind: not to be convinced, but simply to hear an answer. In a sense, perhaps we really were alike.
"Hmm."
"What is it?"
"No, it's just... I just remembered that the Spirit of the World Tree said something strange."
"Said what?"
"That you and I meeting was not fate, or something along those lines... I think that's what it said. At the time, I just figured it was putting things poetically because it was a special occasion."
"You think it meant something else?"
What if it hadn't been a poetic flourish for something that rarely happened — what if it had been meant literally? That Livia and I had not been destined to meet... perhaps that meant more than I had thought. A meeting in which fate itself had not intervened. And because of that, it had said, we had been able to change so many things. Those prophetic words kept writhing in the back of my mind, complicating everything. Surely. There had to be some meaning to it.
"Well, anyway. If we meet the Goddess, we'll find out, right?"
"I hope we can."
"We've come this far, so I'd like to meet her. She might give us all kinds of information, too."
"That's certainly true."
"Hey, Lois."
"Yes?"
"Where do you think our journey ends?"
"...I don't know."
I had thought this was simply the story of a Hero whose power had grown too great — used, then discarded. I had thought the story would continue that way and come to an ordinary end. But then things had begun to unfold in strange directions. Now I couldn't even tell if we were walking the right path. We were simply moving to respond to the threats in front of us — and I couldn't shake the feeling that some far darker will was intervening.
"Anywhere..."
"Huh?"
For a moment, I had almost said it without thinking: I'll go with you, anywhere. To think I had nearly let such an embarrassing line slip out so casually. I let out a breath.
"It's the Spirit Forest. Let's go in."
"W-wait a second... what did you just say? Anywhere, what?"
"I'm leaving you behind."
"W-wait, take me with you...!"