Can This Really Be Allowed? (1)

"What? The Red faction is heading to the ward with a secret elixir?"

The Gold Cardinal, Hirei Berit, bristled with fury. In truth, under ordinary circumstances, Gold couldn't have cared less what Red got up to.

Why?

Because eight out of ten things the Red Cardinal did were done purely for his own amusement. There was nothing to gain from being jerked around by the likes of him.

But the remaining two out of ten were the problem.

Usually they could be ignored—but when one of those two came around, every hair on his body had to stand at attention. That was when Red showed his true colors to the point of harming other faiths.

Witch hunts, blood-soaked heresy inquests, wars between great houses—those moments were exactly that. And right now was precisely one of those times to be on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guard.

These lunatics. After everything, they're bringing Sephet's Secret Medicine?

Each great house possessed special secret elixirs that only that house could manufacture. Their effects varied, but they shared one common property: rapid recovery of wounds through physical activation.

And they were carrying it to Isaac?

What else could that mean?

So the Sephet lot has finally decided to interfere with us?

They meant to restore Isaac to full health in one stroke and send him straight into the God Summoning.

But as a Berit, he could absolutely never allow Isaac to stand in that place.

No—he must not be allowed to!

The Supreme God might come out!

It wasn't for nothing that they had granted Isaac a private room in the Papal Court's infirmary.

The plan was to pamper him, curry his favor, and quietly delay his treatment so he'd stay glued to that hospital bed. For House Berit, it was an investment being made with considerable care.

And yet first the Black Cardinal, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now the Red Cardinal too!

Useless idiots, the lot of them.

Thanks to the Black Pentagon, not a single apprentice would perform the God Summoning at this year's Sacrificial Offering Festival as it was. And since it had become a Pentagon assignment, the identity of every god they contracted with would be laid bare before the entire Empire.

And these lunatics—restore whom, to send where?

With a Red elixir, of all things?

At the very least we need Isaac's summoning to fail, and they want ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to pour oil on the fire?

The Red house's elixir in particular had the effect of raising one's compatibility with the god they connected to.

Worse, the Supreme God was a deity that neither the Pope nor the direct Gold line had ever managed to draw.

If word spread that a child of the Blue Faith had drawn that god, something truly irreversible would have come to pass.

That was why, according to the original plan, they intended to keep him out of the official God Summoning entirely, and instead treat it as a supplementary draw—attaching some suitably modest god to him.

And so the Gold Cardinal issued his order to the attendant.

"By any means necessary, prevent him from drinking that medicine. He must not be sent into the God Summoning."

This was a matter that could shake the very foundations of the Empire.

But the attendant, bowing his head, told him not to worry so much.

"Why would the Blue Faith drink a Red secret elixir? That's the house that laces theirs with truth serum."

Right. Exactly.

No one in his right mind would drink it.

Yes. If they were in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their right mind.

Son of a—! This is delicious!

The problem was that Isaac was not merely of unsound mind; he was a complete lunatic.

Isaac gulped down the Red secret elixir, glug glug glug.

The elixir, tasting of red wine, burned its way down Isaac's throat. No—forget glugging; by the time it hit his stomach, he let out a hearty aaaah. This stuff could get a man drunk.

If Gold's secret elixir was a lump of pill shaped like a horse turd, then these people's was a fully matured wine. The booziness was incredible. Unbelievable.

And Neizer, watching the whole spectacle, wore an expression caught somewhere between laughing and crying.

A single drop of that elixir is worth an astronomical fortune, and he's drinking it like water….

Is this really acceptable, Father? Is it really acceptable that he gets to drink what even I have never tasted? Huh??

"Aaah, this tastes incredible. You Red folks brew damn fine liquor too, huh?"

Neizer pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Right… Sephet is based in the southern territories, so their wine and oils are the finest in the Empire… wait, no. Hold on. How long are you going to keep drinking that—"

"What? You said to drink as much as I wanted."

"No, I've never even had that myself—I mean, that's not the point, you're only supposed to have a drop—"

"Oh? Only a drop? Are you sure?"

Under Isaac's tiger-like glare, Neizer swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling.

"…No. Drink to your heart's content. Yeah."

Glug, glug, gluuuuug!

By the time the very last drop of that priceless elixir slid down Isaac's throat, Neizer felt like weeping.

Damn it all. That brat was drinking medicine that even he, the heir of the Red house, had never tasted! A precious secret elixir only his elders had ever—given to that!?

No, wait—if it were just that brat drinking it, he might have held his tongue at least!

"Is it really all right for the two of us to have some too?"

"Wasn't this brought for Isaac?"

"Don't be greedy, you two—each have a glass."

Why?! Why on earth was he shoving this priceless stuff down Rillai's and Shuri's throats too?!

The two had shown little appetite for it and tried to decline, but Isaac had gone and force-fed them in the end.

And having received such a precious gift, you'd think they'd at least drink it gratefully.

"Tastes like dirt for something so expensive."

"Ours don't taste like this."

You cursed Blue bastards!

People who've never even laid eyes on this stuff normally! What would they know of the taste of a secret elixir?

Since the Blue Faith was a faith of patience, they were the sort who'd always preferred grinding themselves down like fools over relying on secret elixirs.

They only drank sacred tonics when they needed to burn their last flame in a battle they'd entered prepared to die. They rarely used secret elixirs, and even when they acquired one, they usually sold it and distributed the proceeds among their vassals.

Which meant the elixir's effects would hit them all the harder—so couldn't they at least be grateful?! They were already a tier below the Red house in financial power as it was!

"This must be such a waste on Isaac. Next time, brew it even better—make something he'll really enjoy."

Argh!

Neizer felt the injustice burning in his chest, but there was nothing he could say.

Because of that one brat, the entire Blue Faith went on strike.

The Blue strike had come back around to cut the Red house as well. With Blue refusing to move, all of Red's businesses that were interwoven with them had ground to a halt.

Damn it, who could have guessed the Blue Faith would pull something like a strike!

Naturally, they hadn't just sat on their hands either. In the wars of the nobility, seizing the moral high ground always came first.

Pushed that hard, Blue would surely have retreated a step or two. Lay a finger on their vassals, and the Blue Faith always bent.

But before Blue could give ground, the merchant houses caught in between—deciding things had worked out nicely for them—came swarming to Blue's side of their own accord.

"Can we really trust the Red house after they lost the Fourteen Six Demons? I'd sooner trust the Blue Faith than those flighty bastards."

"If the strike drags on, we're the ones who suffer."

"Worked out well for us, actually. Let's defect to Blue while we can. They've been looking more dependable lately, haven't they?"

"Ah— you mean young master Isaac?"

"?!"

The heavyweight backers who had been with Red were showing signs of defecting.

Either way, if this became a war of attrition, the losses for Red would be considerable. If one stroke of secret sorcery could settle it all, that was actually the cheaper option.

And besides, that wasn't his only goal.

Get this brat healed first, and send him to the God Summoning.

Then, when he summoned a god of the Red house, they'd take a good long look at Isaac!

Granted, if Isaac drew an Upper God, Red might find themselves on the receiving end of an attack instead—but that was fine.

There's no way that brat draws an Upper God.

With faith like that? Ha, even a passing dog would laugh at him. There was no mistaking what he'd seen: that statue of the goddess of propriety with its eyes bulging wide.

That brat is a traitor, without question.

And more than anything, Neizer hadn't simply been handing over the booze out of the goodness of his heart.

It's laced with truth serum. By now his throat must feel like it's splitting open.

Aaah. My throat's splitting, all right, it's splitting wide open!

Isaac cackled and tipped the bottle over his head, letting out a belch. Compared to the Blue Faith, who wouldn't even let a child touch alcohol—Sephet! What absolutely darling people!

Well, it does look like there's truth serum in it.

The proof was the dazed look on the faces of the two men who had drunk it first to make sure it wouldn't harm Isaac.

"Our precious Isaac, hurry and grow up so you can go beat the Skeleton Demon King into bone fragments with your dear uncle."

"Ah, damn it all, Isaac. The truth is, I once put my boogers in your food… hurk!!"

Ah, these idiot priests.

Why were they using their magic cores to neutralize a truth serum? Granted, a magic core was the absolute best counter to any drug meant to harm a priest—so he understood. But still.

When they stared at him expectantly like that, a man's conscience started to prickle.

He did. That's exactly why he was quietly draining their liquor bottles for them, wasn't it?

His conscience was perfectly round, lovely, and upright, thank you very much?

Well, if it were an ordinary truth serum rather than one blended with a magic core, even I might be in some danger.

But this was a land of priests. Did those filthy priests really think an ordinary truth serum would work on fellow clergymen? Puhuh!

Anyway—when someone offered him delicious liquor mixed with a magic core, what reason was there to refuse? Of course, whether from the toxic energy of the magic core or not, the two men of the Blue Faith had already passed out cold.

Right—with faith in this sorry a state, he had no intention of summoning a god through any legitimate method anyway. Still, if he was going to do it, a body in peak condition was best. A failed summoning would be a disgrace to the family.

Isaac shook the bottle upside down and smacked his lips.

"Ah, all finished. Hic."

"Oh! So, are you ready to call off the strike now?"

"Nope. Not a chance."

"…What?"

"Hand over another bottle."

"Wh-what the hell?!"

"You've got one more in your coat, don't you?"

Neizer's hand flew instinctively to his chest.

How the hell did that brat know—no, wait. This one was the blessing elixir Neizer had prepared for his own God Summoning.

As if he'd hand over the very thing he'd set aside to draw a Chief God!

But Isaac's eyes only sparkled brighter.

"If you don't give it to me, the strike continues."

"Damn it! Fine—just one sip then, ONE sip only… Agh! Enough! Stop drinking!"

In the end, after extracting and draining Neizer's blessing elixir down to the dregs, Isaac smacked his lips in satisfaction.

Was this not wine but cognac? The Red house's elixirs were all liquor—absolutely magnificent.

Neizer stared at his own now-empty elixir bottle and despaired. That had been a special gift from the head of the house for his God Summoning, of all things…!

Calm down. Endure it!

With this, the strike matter was settled, and he could send that brat off to the God Summoning grounds….

"Hey. Got any more? If I visit your estate, you've got more of this, right?"

"Are you planning to bankrupt my house?!"

But Neizer, who had been bristling, quickly caught himself.

No, wait. If he says he'll come to the estate, that's even better!

He was offering to walk right in and undergo their interrogation of his own accord!

Neizer hurriedly seized Isaac.

"No, no—great. Let's go! I'll help you draw a good god!"

"Thing is, my leg still hurts from my injuries."

"O-oh, right? Then I'll lend you my gear. Boots that aid travel. With those you can move comfortably and fast."

Isaac accepted the boots, slipped them on, and grinned.

"Ahhh, what a predicament. My divine power is so low that I think I need to train more before the God Summoning. I probably can't visit your estate."

"I'll lend you a holy relic that raises divine power!"

"Ahhh. Isaac wants to draw a good god, but with this, I think I'll need even more training."

"Argh! I'll lend you one more, so quit it!"

In the end, Neizer, stripped of every holy relic he owned, was drenched in sweat.

"There! Now let's go!"

"Food first."

"Argh! One thing after another with you!"

It was just then, when Neizer had ordered expensive snacks out of his own pocket, that—

"Glorious news! The Cardinals have finally discovered the Fourteen Six Demons!"

"What? Is that true?"

"So they can be captured and brought back!"

"Yes! A request for support has been sent to the Papal Court!"

"Ooooh! Enough, enough!"

The interior of the Papal Court erupted into a frenzy over the news of the Fourteen Six Demons.

At all the commotion, Neizer clicked his tongue.

"They should at least keep their dignity. Well, none of our business, anyway. In any case—belly full, gear lent out, time to head ho—"

But when Neizer turned his head, his eyes went wide as saucers.

"Where the hell did this brat go?! Hey!"

Isaac had bolted without leaving so much as a trace, and Neizer tore at his hair.

Meanwhile, Isaac—having pulled off his dine-and-dash—slipped out of the Papal Court on the power of the borrowed boots.

After all, going to the Red estate in his current state would just be walking into a tiger's den. If he was going to visit, he'd better make them desperate for him first.

That minion of mine sure is a pushover. Nom nom.

The expensive snack clamped between his teeth was a bonus.

Well, he did feel a little bad about the minion, but avoiding each other for now was best for both parties.

There was something far more pressing on his mind. When the people around him were moving like this, there was no way he could afford to ignore it.

The Red faction is trying to force a God Summoning on me. The Gold faction is straining every nerve to stop it.

As if that were all.

The White Faith had left him a note that said, "Fight on!"

And besides—wasn't it strange that even the Black Cardinal had suddenly changed the evaluation assignment to the God Summoning?

They wouldn't go to these lengths over some nameless Lower God.

Who on earth was it?

He'd have to find out.

And as it happened, the very person who could tell him the answer was standing right before his eyes.