The Arena (1)
The Kingdom of Demicia.
A rigid, closed-off kingdom that rejected anything not related to the martial arts. Magic, alchemy, spirit arts, shamanism—all of them were shunned.
As for the Priestess, no one knew exactly what she dealt in, but her power was the ability to read fate and perform divination. At a glance, it had nothing to do with martial prowess.
An unwelcome guest. She had expected the unfriendly stares.
"So you're the culprit."
"?"
Being branded a criminal the moment she arrived, however, was outside her expectations.
"…What are you talking about?"
Even in the sudden turn of events, the Priestess did not panic. She maintained her usual composed air and asked calmly,
"I haven't done a single thing since arriving in this city."
"Haven't done a thing? Nonsense!"
The captain of Valkan's guard snorted. Dark-skinned and thick with muscle, he cut an imposing figure even before the plate armor that bulked him out further.
Thud!
He slammed a fist down on the table, and the whole thing shuddered.
Whoa, is that thing not going to break?
"We've received multiple reports naming you as the culprit! Are you saying the righteous people of Demicia would file false accusations?"
"It may not be a lie so much as a misunderstanding or a mistake."
"This witch talks too much."
What a mess.
From the look of things, the guard captain had already decided the Priestess was guilty. Whether she was or not hardly seemed to matter to him. He was simply seizing one of the kinds of people he despised and throwing her in a cell.
The one left in a bind was Evan. His plan to raise the Priestess's favorability was about to fall apart for no good reason.
Ugh. I really don't want to do this.
It wasn't that he was scared—exactly. The captain just looked far too vicious. Something about him vaguely resembled Tyson. Even without a sword, those bare fists alone looked capable of turning Evan into paste. The living golem would keep it from going that far, but still.
Hoo. Hoo!
I can do this!
Evan forced himself to calm down. He resented how quietly his companions were standing behind him, but that was neither here nor there.
"I would appreciate a clear explanation of what is going on."
Ah. My voice cracked.
His face had gone stiff, and his tone had turned rigid. One small slip and it would crack completely. He needed to put more force into his throat.
"…And you are?"
Only then did the guard captain seem to notice him, turning his head.
Don't tell me he hadn't registered me until now?
"Might you be someone of high standing?"
His tone shifted abruptly into deference. Evan had no idea what the man had just pieced together, but this was better. At least he no longer needed to worry about being ignored or intimidated—or rather, about being a little careful.
"My name is Evan Alcarte."
Evan packed the unspoken meaning into the introduction: My house is powerful, so don't get any ideas.
"I have business that brought me to Valkan for a short while. This woman is my companion. I would like you to explain precisely what is happening."
Hmm. Putting a hand on her shoulder would look too familiar, wouldn't it?
"I dislike seeing a valued companion swept up in needless trouble."
"…Alcarte?"
It landed. The guard captain faltered, and a faint fear even flickered in his eyes.
Oh. So they know the name even in the Kingdom of Demicia?
"…Lately, people have been disappearing in Valkan."
The captain scratched his head with a faintly trembling hand. His scalp gleamed.
"Disappearances have been frequent of late, and they are so discreet that even our honorable warriors cannot track them down. That is why we have been assuming a mage is the culprit."
"Mm."
Disappearances.
Did something like that happen around this time?
It was a little over two years before the main story began, so he couldn't be certain. What he was sure of was this:
It probably isn't a major incident.
If the Priestess had truly been the culprit, she would never have been able to appear in the Kingdom of Demicia in the future. The odds were low, but she did show up in Valkan more than once. A real criminal would never have been allowed back in, and the Priestess was not the type to flout that kind of law.
In other words, the matter would resolve itself even if he left it alone.
But—
What if I solve it first?
Wouldn't that buy him some favorability?
"Even so, pinning the crime on someone when the truth has not been properly established does not seem right."
"…Does Your Lordship not know who this woman is? She is the Priestess of the Night Sky. A famous witch."
"Not a witch. A priestess."
It was the line the Priestess always carried on her lips. Whenever someone called her a "witch," she would kindly correct them: "I am a priestess."
When Evan echoed the correction word for word, he felt her turn to look at him in surprise.
"Would you explain what you know about the culprit? I will resolve the matter myself."
Well said.
Whew!
Nice. Real-man Evan!
That was manly enough. Evan was feeling rather proud of himself when—
"W-wait a moment."
Hum!
The Priestess caught hold of Evan's sleeve. Space warped slightly as if she had cast a spell, and a translucent barrier settled around them.
Is this that one?
Fifth-Circle Magic: Mirror Distortion.
A spell that cloaked their outward appearance and blocked sound. He hadn't expected her to deploy it this quickly. Its short duration was a drawback, but that didn't seem to matter to her.
The Priestess spoke at once.
"What… are you doing right now?"
"You appear to have been falsely accused."
Evan kept his composure as best he could.
"I am trying to resolve it for you. It seems you were dragged into this because of me, after all."
"…That isn't true."
"If I have overstepped, I will take back my words right now."
The Priestess pressed her lips together. It did not seem he had crossed a line.
Well. Of course. Would I not know where the line is with her?
She was his favorite character, after all. That much analysis was a given.
"…What do you want?"
"?"
"There is no such thing as a good deed without a price. Whether it is personal satisfaction, money, or time—everyone wants something. What is it that you want?"
The Priestess fixed her gaze on him. She herself freely offered goodwill without asking for anything in return, yet she always insisted on paying a price. Even for a small gift, she would hand over something of roughly equal value. A kind of equivalent exchange. It bordered on pathological obsession.
What do I say I want here?
There was nothing the Priestess could give him right now. Only later would she become a tremendous help. She could read fate to avoid coming threats, or even save a life. Where a saintess healed wounds after they were taken, the Priestess erased the chance of being wounded in the first place.
She had said she could not read his fate at the moment. Once the main story began, that might change, might it not?
So…
"I would like you to read a fortune for me later."
"But…"
"It does not have to be mine. Lapis, Elder Aegis, Felix, my family—anyone I name. I would like you to read the fortune of the person I designate."
"…"
His answer seemed to catch her off guard. The Priestess lost her words. For a moment she studied him with a complicated look, then nodded.
"…Very well."
Contract sealed!
Well done. At this point, I really am a man among men, aren't I?
Evan marveled at himself.
Fortunately, the guard captain had not noticed the exchange between the Priestess and Evan. Fifth-Circle Magic was not for nothing, it seemed.
"Is there no one at all you suspect as the culprit?"
At Evan's question, the captain's brow furrowed slightly.
"…They say the person always goes about in a black robe."
He shot a sidelong glance at the Priestess. Her robe had a faint bluish cast. She shook her head firmly.
"Mine is not plain black. This is navy…"
"I am aware."
Why does she sound so defensive?
"They also say they move in groups of at least ten. When a flute is played, children vanish in response… and their identities remain completely unknown."
The Pied Piper?
It was certainly strange. Too odd to dismiss as ordinary magic. If anything, it sounded closer to a heretical cult.
"…According to the reports, there have even been traces of human sacrifice and offerings left behind."
"!"
"!"
Aegis and Lapis both turned their heads. Aegis reacted to the human sacrifice; Lapis reacted to whatever those two words connected to. Evan was no different.
…Isn't this the heretics?
Human sacrifice. Fleeing criminals. Unverifiable identities. In short—foreigners. In this era, there was hardly any way to look up information on people from other countries.
"Do they happen to say lines like 'For Whom—' as well?"
"Everything was reported from a distance, so I wouldn't know."
Tch. But it really does sound like them.
The heretics who had been purged in the Empire. Hunted down by Arthur, caught by Evan as well, and now pursued by Glory. The remnants who fled seemed to have slipped in here. How many places were left to run, after all? If you were going to flee, you had to cross into another country.
"…Heretics? Those pathetic scum, in our kingdom?"
"They lost a power struggle in the Empire."
More accurately, they had been massacred—but there was no need to put it that way.
"It seems the remnants who escaped have come here."
"…Those insolent bastards."
Crunch!
The guard captain clenched his fist and ground his teeth.
Ugh, that's creepy.
"The last report came from the arena."
Breathing hard, the captain pulled out a sheet of paper and slapped it down on the table.
"Disappearances have been occurring regularly at the arena. Mostly gladiators—or rather, their corpses—vanishing."
"The arena…"
Felix murmured.
The arena. A sacred combat rite held in the Colosseum. From Evan's perspective it was little more than entertainment and gambling where warriors fought for money, but still.
"Has anything unusual been circulating in the arena lately?"
"I have heard that the potions the gladiators favor have changed."
"Red ones, by any chance?"
"That's right."
Bingo.
A popular potion. Not for recovery—something that boosted strength or stamina. For that kind of improvement, there were only two possibilities: either a highly skilled alchemist was involved, or they were using the power of a heretical cult, something like blood.
The latter, almost certainly. If it had been the former, Aegis would have reacted first.
Tch. Do I have to go to the Colosseum?
That place was a bit scary—no, it just smelled bad.
The best method would be to just overturn the entire arena…
But then innocent people might die too. That gave him pause. Even so, killing the innocent was a bit much.
"Let me go."
At that moment, Felix stepped forward.
"I will enter the arena myself and investigate."
"Oh! You are a warrior."
Color returned to the guard captain's face as he looked Felix over.
"Your presence, your stance, your body… Excellent!"
"I am Felix, son of Elim."
Felix offered a courteous bow.
"I walk the pilgrimage road, dreaming of becoming a Swordmaster."
"Remarkable! And you still look so young…!"
The captain clapped Felix hard on the back in admiration. He seemed so thoroughly pleased that he started volunteering information on his own.
"This is confidential, but the first-place prize for this arena season has been updated."
"Updated?"
"Five of the Housewife's Fountain Pens."
Huh?
Evan's eyes widened slightly.
"I don't know what they do, but I hear they were procured at great expense."
Those are showing up here?
The Housewife's Fountain Pen. A magical artifact created by a brilliant mage who, after marriage, lost her freedom and poured her entire will into a single desire: to be free again. Its hallmarks were slightly worn graphite and a battered body case.
And its effect was—
"…Spatial transfer?"
The ability to use the Fourth-Circle spatial magic Blink—instant teleportation to anywhere. It was charge-based, requiring a full year to recharge after a single use. Five pens meant exactly five uses.
The Priestess seemed to know of the artifact as well; she fell into a brief silence. Evan felt the need for them too.
…I think I need to get involved.
They were useful even in the main story—primarily as emergency escape artifacts. Just one of them lowered the difficulty of certain routes, if only a little.
Of course, he had no intention of stepping into the ring himself. That would be scary.
Trusting Felix alone felt a bit thin, though. In that case—
"Number Five."
The golem that had been quietly nestled in his coat—built purely for combat—stirred. Evan whispered to the miniaturized construct.
"I'm counting on you."
Thump, thump!
Number Five pounded its own chest as if to say, Leave it to me.
The Priestess was a graduate of the Magic Tower of Space-Time. She was more familiar than anyone with magic that governed time and space—all the more so as one of the few remaining successors to Celestial Magic on the continent.
…Fountain Pens. How did something so precious end up here?
An artifact inscribed with spatial magic. Extremely rare. Difficult to obtain even on the black market. And yet one had simply appeared by chance?
It felt less like coincidence and more like a layout someone had prepared in advance.
Evan's reaction had been the same. He had not been particularly surprised—as if he had already known the pens would find their way here.
Did he plan all of this?
Perhaps it was because of the "witch" state she had fallen into not long ago. Unease and suspicion kept rising in her. She could not help but doubt even Evan's goodwill—whether it was helping her, or entering the arena.
What if all of it was his plan? What if Evan were the true power pulling the strings from behind the scenes? Was this incident connected to him as well?
"…"
A complicated gaze whose true meaning could not be read settled on Evan—as if she were determined, one way or another, to read his intentions.