On the Empire's First Pillar (3)

Najin spoke with Gerd for some time. They shared what they knew of the Revelry Emperor and discussed the course of action ahead. A few requests passed between them in the process.

"I'll look into that part myself."

"Yes. I'd be grateful."

"Your conjecture has weight—that expeditions against the Revelry Emperor have already been mounted more than once, and that the records simply no longer remain because they were erased. The incidents you mentioned earlier also have their share of suspicious points."

Gerd stroked his beard.

"The Empire's history contains a certain blank stretch with the Dawn War as its pivot. The official historians claim the relevant records were lost to fire set by rebel forces, yet now that claim itself begins to look doubtful. Was it truly loss by fire? Or a blank deliberately manufactured?"

He hummed and turned his gaze.

From the summit of the tower he looked out over the whole of the Empire.

"We'll need to verify everything from the beginning. Not only the Dawn War. Every case that closed unnaturally must be reopened as well. There's no telling where an ember may still be hiding."

With the entire Empire held in his view, he continued.

"And every step of that process must be transparent, precise, and swift. The longer it drags, the greater the risk that further distortion will be applied."

It was not empty talk. If Gerd willed it, such a thing could truly be done.

Gerd was far more than raw martial power. Sword Saint Caron had not called him "superior to me in every respect save the sword" without reason. Gerd was a Sword Master of the Empire and, at the same time, the Empire's First Pillar—the foremost column that held the realm upright.

The Empire's first pillar. The man who had made the present emperor possible. The one who had saved the Empire from traitors time and again. Teacher of the knights who served the imperial house, and the war-lord who could move them with a single gesture of his hand.

The sovereign of the Empire was Emperor Eldwin.

But the lord of its soldiers was Gerd.

He simply chose not to; if he ever set his mind to it, Gerd was a man who could overturn the Empire alone. Nearly two centuries of devoted service had vested him with absolute power.

The Empire's First Pillar is, in the end, the Empire's foremost power-holder.

And that power-holder was now moving.

A man who for two hundred years had served the Empire and never once wielded that power for private ends was deliberately taking it up. Moreover, Gerd even possessed a justification.

The Revelry Emperor was distorting the history of the Empire.

A mere demon meant to shake a thousand years of imperial record.

Was that not precisely when the pillar itself should step forward?

An absolute power-holder had been handed the very pretext to exercise that power. What would unfold from this point, Najin could not easily guess. One thing alone he could foresee: the bureaucrats of the Empire would be screaming.

"Rise. I'll see you out."

Gerd stood from his seat.

Najin blinked. An escort? Why an escort? As if there were nothing strange about it, Gerd explained.

"I told you. I owe you a great debt, and I have no intention of treating that grace lightly. As of today you stand under the Empire's protection—and you have me at your back."

"Yes, that's true, but…"

"And such things carry far greater weight when done in public. Naturally I have no intention of hiding it. The gain from revealing it outweighs any gain from concealment."

In short: I'll make it plain that I stand behind you. Najin slowly nodded. True to his word, Gerd walked him all the way outside the tower.

And the crowds gathered near Gerd's tower—the Tower of the First Pillar—witnessed the sight.

They had come because a new star had suddenly risen above the tower. Murmuring as they watched the eighth star glitter at its peak, the throng blinked when they saw Najin and Gerd step out together.

At the tower entrance the two exchanged brief parting words. In full view of everyone, Gerd left Najin with the words, "Remember that the door of the First Pillar's tower is always open to you," and returned inside.

No one was so dense as to miss the meaning of so blatant a statement. The gathered crowd stared at Najin with wide eyes.

"…"

Najin himself simply let those stares slide off him and kept walking. No one dared approach or put a question to him; the crowd parted and made way.

The Dawn Star had visited the tower of the Empire's First Pillar.

And the Empire's First Pillar had gained his eighth star.

It did not take long for that fact to spread across the entire Empire. And, as a matter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of course, the Grey Tower and the Empire's official historians who received the news…

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

…clapped a hand to their foreheads. Thanks to the past few months of thinning hairline, the smack rang out loud and cheerful.

"The Empire's First Pillar has gained an eighth star? Is Sir Gerd not still on the Continent? All of a sudden?"

Durek, official historian of the Empire, blinked.

He pressed hard between his brows and groaned.

"A happy occasion. Happy, yes. Happy, but…"

No going home again tonight, is there.

Durek quietly shed a tear. With incidents exploding at all hours these past months, he could scarcely remember the last time he had set foot in his own manor.

"Tell me what happened."

The answer came that detailed information was still being confirmed in coordination with the Grey Tower—but the moment "that bastard's" name surfaced, Durek's eyes flew open.

"Najin?"

"Yes. There are eyewitness accounts that the boy visited the First Pillar's tower, and the timing of that visit coincides exactly with the moment Sir Gerd obtained the new star."

Him again?

Durek screamed a curse.

"I muttered that he was going around fighting Sword Masters in single combat—and now he's pinning stars on them? What kind of unheard-of nonsense is this…"

Exactly the same scream rose inside the Grey Tower, yet because their master the Grey Tower Lord doted so extravagantly on Najin, they could not openly curse him.

"Still, this time he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hung a new star on someone, so the Grey Tower lot will suffer more than we will. We won't have much to do. Small mercies…"

"S-Sir Durek?"

"Ah—don't say my name. It suddenly makes me anxious. Every time you people call my name my hands start shaking. At this rate I'll develop a tremor. Maybe I should retire citing the tremor as an excuse? I've done enough by now…"

"The Empire's First Pillar, Sir Gerd, has sent a letter in his own hand. You need to confirm it at once…"

He confirmed it.

After reading the letter, Durek laughed.

"Hear me, historians of the Empire. Including the records lost in the Dawn War, every scrap of information concerning the previous First Pillar and the Revelry Emperor, as well as every case over the nearly three hundred years since the Rondinel Incident in which investigations closed unnaturally…"

Thud. The letter slipped from his fingers.

"Conduct a complete reinvestigation. Quickly. Swiftly."

Muttering like a man whose mind had left him, Durek fainted on his feet. Of course other departments would carry out the actual investigation, but in the end the historians were the ones who would coordinate with them, open the archives, and put the materials in order.

In other words: dig through three hundred years' worth of records?

If anyone else had issued such an order, Durek would have raised a middle finger and said, "Ha-ha, you think that's possible? Don't talk nonsense." But when that anyone was the Empire's First Pillar, the story changed somewhat.

What were the pillars of the Empire? If they pointed at a mountain and said, "That mountain's shape is a bit off—shall we shave it down a little?" hundreds of knights would be mobilized and gladly carve the mountain. When the work was finished and they said, "On second thought, let's just move it," hundreds of knights would again be mobilized and relocate the mountain.

The power-holders who made such things possible were the Empire's pillars—and among those pillars the tallest of all, the Empire's First Pillar, had given the order.

Find the materials and present them before me.

There was no right of refusal. Least of all when the command came from that same Sir Gerd who, in his younger days, had amused himself by pulling out historians' tongues and hanging their heads on spikes. Anyone who valued their own tongue, wrists, and head would move with alacrity.

Durek wept.

"Fucking hell…"

Two syllables of ordinary swearing were insufficient to describe the situation. Only by welding "fucking" to "hell" did the word feel remotely adequate.

"Fucking hell. Really."

It was language far too crude for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an imperial historian, yet no one corrected Durek. The circumstances warranted it.

Life in the imperial capital, Camelot, proved more comfortable and pleasant than Najin had imagined.

From rumor in the City of Opportunity, Cambria, he had heard that Camelot was a heaven beyond heaven where even high-and-mighty nobles were reduced to commoners, a land crawling with power-holders and great houses… yet Najin found it hard to share that impression.

A dazzling suite. If he needed anything, he went downstairs, spoke to a shop attendant, and within minutes it appeared before him. Meals arrived on schedule; if he stepped out for a short while and returned, the room had been cleaned until it looked new.

It's… convenient?

And the fact that every last bit of it was provided without his spending a single coin left Najin unable to suppress his astonishment. Was Camelot paradise?

Of course not.

Najin was a guest of honor among guests of honor for the Dieta Trading Company, and the executives had admonished the staff again and again that nothing must be lacking in his reception. So the company employees treated him like a lord.

In truth, he more or less was one.

He stood in both public and private intimacy with the company mistress who paid their salaries, and he was the foremost contributor to the sharp rise in the company's stock—and therefore in their wages as well.

You, you know.

Merlin eyed him sidelong and sighed.

You haven't forgotten that you yourself belong to that "heaven beyond heaven" you're talking about, have you?

Pardon?

You said Camelot is a land crawling with the great houses and power-holders of the heaven beyond heaven. Well, you belong to that heaven too.

Najin blinked.

Was that so? Thinking it over, she was not wrong. Setting aside the feats he himself had achieved, he already possessed connections with giants that ordinary nobles could not even imagine.

The mistress of a major trading company, and the three Sword Masters of the Empire.

Recently he had even come under the protection of the Empire's First Pillar. By connections alone, Najin's social standing was more than enough to call him a great figure.

"It feels strange all over again."

Barely two years since leaving the underground city.

Najin felt a fresh jolt of surprise at the position he had reached—one he could not even have imagined two years earlier. And at the same time, a certain bitterness.

Life on the Continent was easy. Comfortable. Enjoyable.

Yet nothing he truly wanted was here. What Najin wanted could be gained only by turning his back on comfort and plunging into the flames.

This was only a brief rest.

There was still much to do. Matters in the Outer Land, and unfinished business even within the Continent. Things that required him to grow stronger still. While he was turning those matters over and sorting the path ahead—

Ting-a-ling.

The morning ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bell rang and the newspaper arrived. Najin unfolded it wide and checked. For some time now the pages had been noisy with news of himself; wondering whether today would be the same, he looked—and…

"Huh?"

His eyes went wide.

The moment he saw the letters printed huge across the front page, he could not help staring. The story that filled the first page was not about him.

Najin turned his head to the side.

There sat Merlin, eyes even wider than his, staring at the same newspaper.