This Much Is a Breeze (3)

"Rejoice, Isaac!"

Isaac dropped his baby bottle at the all-too-familiar voice. He turned his head to find Rillai approaching across the nearby garden with both arms spread wide.

Judging by that beaming face—flowers practically blooming out of his skull—he'd come to read books again. Which, fine. Books were good. The whole early-education mindset of raising a child properly? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Excellent! So what if the man was reading encyclopedia-thick history books to a baby who couldn't even say "mama" or "papa"? No skin off his nose!

If anything, knowing history meant learning the origins—the Origins—of all sorts of spells. And knowing a spell's Origin let you wield it faster, better, and more completely. So this hopelessly doting uncle of his shoving history books at him was actually a plus!

Except that what the man kept shoving at him happened to be the story of how the Skeleton Demon King got thoroughly fleeced by the Saintess, goddammit!

Ah, those petty little bastards. Of course they wrote every last detail down in the history books, dammit.

Whisper, who had quietly listened to every story in Isaac's stead whenever the boy dozed off, narrowed his eyes and regarded him.

Shut it! Sure, I made off with one lousy purse, but the Saintesses who chased me to the ends of the earth and chewed my leg off over it were worse!

Anyway, just as Isaac was wondering what book the man had brought this time, Rillai unexpectedly held out not a book but a small box. It was Asili, who had been attending to Isaac, who reacted first.

"Good heavens—a ring!"

A ring? Don't tell me. A stone ring? Or a gold one? Isaac's mouth curled up in a pleased little smirk. And true enough, when Rillai opened the ring case, a beautiful specimen of—

"Here you are. A gift from your uncle."

"..."

For a gift, it looked so ancient it might as well have been the keepsake of some Iron Age savage. And for a stone ring, it looked like a hunk of junk without a single milligram of gold in it. So Isaac shot him a look of protest, but—

Crunch. From not far away came a gaze seething with jealousy. Isaac's other uncle, Goel—or rather, that crooked old jug. And while Isaac had no idea what the man had against a perfectly innocent ring, that expression was quite the expression. He looked like a man who'd just heard his cousin had bought land, which meant the ring was anything but ordinary. As if to prove the point, Goel was glaring at it through gritted teeth.

'Damn it all. Why did THAT have to be the one to go through.'

The truth was, Goel had never expected things to unfold this way. And why would he have? He was the fifth son of House Eshua and, as a man of the Pope's faction within the Holy Empire, had been quietly siphoning away the family's real authority piece by piece—all to drag the papal line into House Eshua and seize the seat of family head for himself. With the young Duke, the eldest son, even vanished, it should have been their golden opportunity at last.

'If that flowerbed-headed fool Rillai hadn't butted in.'

So long as Isaac—the child of the eldest son and the Saintess—existed, they could never hold true power. At the very least, it would block the road by which his own son, Shuri, might become Pope. So he had meant to use the vault's demons and dragon to make the nursing infant disappear, and then—

"I beg your pardon? What did you just say?"

Summoned before the council of elders over the Doljabi affair, Goel had thought he was losing his mind.

"So you're telling me you're granting Isaac... support?"

"Why ask what's obvious? At every Doljabi, doesn't the vault scatter one-time blessings over the children before sending them in? It's dangerous, after all."

The vault's blessings. Simply put, they were lifelines handed out upon entry. Items counted as cheating and were barred, but a minimal thread of life was permitted—and knowing that rule, Shuri had gone straight out and stockpiled every good blessing he could, too.

"Shuri has already contacted the Holy See and secured his blessings, I take it?"

"Yes. A child's life ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is precious. As long as no items are involved, it's no breach of the rules, is it?"

The vault's blessing apparatus? Garbage, every last piece of it.

Well, what else would you expect from the ground where Saintesses had their Doljabi? The blessings one could receive inside the Saintess's Vault were nothing but basic, low-tier fare. It wasn't for nothing that Goel had mobilized every coin and every connection he possessed to secure blessings from the Holy See. A Holy See blessing was the finest high-tier blessing in the entire Holy Empire!

'So, Rillai—let your nephew, with no backing in the Holy See, scrape by on discount trash. The one carrying home the good things will be my son.'

What could anyone do about it if he complained? Surely the Saintess's own child wouldn't dream of refusing the Saintess's Vault's blessings. What was he going to do about it, exactly?

Just as Goel was grinning in triumph at Rillai—

"Oh, that reminds me. The vault's blessing apparatus has broken down, you see."

"So Mother has graciously decided to lend out the Saintess's treasures this time."

"?!"

Damn it all—what did he just say?!

"Oh! Yes, yes, of course. Anything belonging to the Saintess must be the equal of a blessing."

"Aww, and far more precious than any Holy See blessing, at that."

"So Rillai, do go and pick something out from the Saintess's hall."

Khack—!

The Saintess's treasures?! What were Holy See blessings against the Saintess's treasures, pray tell?!

Goel's eyes spun, and he shouted at once:

"Then lend those treasures to my child as well!"

"Hm? Didn't you already receive everything you needed from the Holy See? And Shuri bears his Stigmata, too."

"N-no, that is—"

"You were the one who insisted on sending Isaac into the vault in the first place, precisely because he has no Stigmata."

"Even the Saintess's treasures are low-tier relics at best. You, a man of the cloth, coveting the lifeline of a Stigma-less infant nephew? A priest should not behave so."

"Wh-why, I would never—"

No, you shit! That's not—!

And so Rillai was sent off to choose from the Saintess's treasures. And what he picked up, without a moment's hesitation, was this.

A battered relic that perhaps had one or two uses left in it, at that—but there was no way Goel didn't know that this very ring was something the Pope's side had been quietly coveting for ages.

'Originally, I meant to slip it out to the Holy See as a little "donation."'

Such were the circumstances. All Goel could do was grind his teeth and glare at Isaac. And sure enough, the man who'd been glowering with such displeasure came strolling over wearing the kindly face of a doting relative.

"Our little nephew grows more adorable every time I see him."

"?"

"Settling in around here, are you? Your uncle has worried himself sick wondering whether such a precious nephew might be crying."

"???"

Isaac looked at Goel as though the man had lost his mind. Fuck—did this bastard finally go senile? Every last drop of Eshua blood seemed to come with its mandatory allotment of beauty, so why did this one have to go around wearing the Pope's face when he smiled? It was a little nauseating.

"Rillai. If you're going to give a gift, give it properly. Handing the boy junk like this?"

"Junk? This is the Saintess's own—"

Asili tried to interject, but Goel glared at her as if wondering where a servant-girl had crawled in from, then turned back to Isaac with a smile.

"Isaac is every bit as precious a nephew to me. He is about to enter a place where his very life may be at risk. He deserves far better than some castoff that may or may not even activate."

With that, Goel drew a box of similar size from his breast—and, as a bonus, grabbed for the ring case in Isaac's hands, as if to swap the two. Ah. So this bastard means to trade out the goods.

"Little one, the candidates of the other families will all be gathered there. One must consider appearances. Handing out something like this would make the Five Great Ducal Houses weep. And you're no exception, Rillai—the spirit of the Saintess's house, enlisting in the frontlines where the pay doesn't even cover the danger? No wonder all you can offer the boy is junk."

"...!"

The ring Goel produced looked incomparably more expensive than the one Rillai had given. A single glance at its workings made plain that it was crafted with the latest techniques—a thing that would honestly be difficult even for Rillai to obtain.

"This one carries a fine blessing specially granted by the Holy See. Tomorrow, inside the vault, this will serve him far better."

Rillai bit his lip at the sight of the gleaming ring. In his heart, he knew nothing of the Saintess's was inferior. But it was a faded, shabby antique set against a shining brand-new piece. And with the Saintess's honor in decline while the Holy See and the other Great Houses rose ever higher, there was no need to spell out which gift looked better for his nephew.

Goel, reading that expression at once, smirked and reached to reclaim the Saintess's ring.

"I'll just return this to where it belo— uhk?"

Goel stared at Isaac in bewilderment.

Grip. Isaac was not letting go of the Saintess's ring Goel was trying to take. His face said it plain as day: and who the hell do you think you are?

Goel tugged awkwardly, wheezing, trying to pry the ring loose.

"Isaac...! Didn't I give you something better? Not this one—this is... AAGH!!"

Isaac, in the universal gesture of get lost, drove the ring box Goel had handed him straight into Goel's face.

CRACK!

"Y-young Master!"

A startled Asili scooped Isaac up and retreated, while Goel clutched his bleeding face. His servant came running in alarm as well.

"Are you all right, my lord?! I shall fetch a physician at once—!"

But Goel, who on any ordinary day would have exploded in fury, smiled through the blood and said it was fine.

"Yes, yes, I understand. You haven't yet learned the eye for holy relics. But that article was bestowed by the Pope himself. Something far better for you—"

Yeah. Fuck off. Don't need it.

Isaac hurled the Pope's ring straight into the pond.

SPLASH!

"AAAH!"

Everyone recoiled as Goel's property vanished into the water, and Goel himself sprinted for the pond's edge. It might have looked like sheer lunacy, but Isaac only gave a hollow little laugh.

'You think I'd use something with the Pope's power in it?'

They could get down on their knees and beg. Too filthy.

Besides, yes, age had robbed the old ring of much of its original luster—but please. This was the treasured artifact of the Saintess who had spent centuries waging a life-or-death war against the Demon King himself. Did they think the man in question couldn't recognize it?

He didn't know exactly why the Saintess was being treated as a has-been these days... no, actually, he knew exactly why, dammit.

In any case, the Saintess's belongings were worth thousands of times more than a few dozen middling holy relics! Which was, of course, precisely why they were trying to slyly trade it away. True, the man had called it worthless a moment ago—but that was its worth as a rock. Start pricing it as a holy relic, and the story changed entirely.

Granted, to the eyes of this generation, it probably looked like scrap fit only for the bargain bin.

'This is top-grade stuff money can't buy, people. What is wrong with you.'

It wasn't even comparable to what this bastard had offered. And that wasn't all. The ring's durability was nearly spent—but the Skeleton King knew exactly how to restore it to mint condition.

'I could probably restore all the other faded treasures while I'm at it, too?'

But Rillai, who knew none of this, found himself speechless, his chest tight and heavy. It was as if the little one had declared, battered though it was, that the Saintess's things were worth more than anything the Holy See could offer. The Holy See already treated the Saintess like a castoff doll. For Rillai, son of the Saintess, it could only be a joy beyond words—

Even if it was merely the whim of a small child. Even if, for Goel, it meant blood boiling in his veins.

"What IS that thing?! Fish it out, this instant!"

At Goel's command, his retainer hastily thrust a wooden pole into the water and stirred.

"F-forgive me! I cannot find it!"

"What do you mean, you can't find it?! It went in moments ago!"

"It, it seems to have sunk somewhere very deep in the meantime..."

"Deep?! A baby threw it in! Stop making excuses and look PROPERLY!"

Like they were ever going to find it, these idiots.

It might have looked like a casual toss, but it had been anything but. Isaac had secretly layered weight magic onto it so that it could never be found again. By now it had probably punched straight through the pond bed and into the subterranean bedrock below.

'You're coming back at dawn to fish it out.'

'I'm selling it later. With a premium slapped on top.'

After a long silence, Whisper asked, in dead earnest: [...Am I truly to go dig it up?]

'You think I'd dig it up myself?'

Whisper despaired.

"So in the end, the Saintess's ring belongs to young Master ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Isaac?"

At his guard knight's words, Goel erupted. "Do not so much as breathe that child's name to me!"

The mere sound of it set his temper off. The knight, who had done nothing but catch abuse, fidgeted anxiously in reply.

"That ring of the Saintess's—it absorbs the holy power of those nearby and triggers blessings automatically, does it not? And with the Matriarch summoning the Saint candidates regardless, it could only work further in young Master Isaac's favor..."

"Favor him, you think?"

"Y-yes..."

The knight spoke with caution, but Goel only scoffed.

"Oh, that ring. It requires no holy power of the wearer's own—the perfect tool for a child who cannot so much as cast holy arts yet. The head that thought to pick it out deserves some credit, I'll grant. But."

"!"

"To use it properly, he would need at least twenty people crowded around him. How many do you suppose will actually show up to the Doljabi? Every last Saint candidate?"

"That..."

"Opinion of the Saintess is already in the gutter, and House Eshua proposed this whole affair in the first place. Every noble in the land is calling it an Eshua trap even as we speak. We have kept our mouths shut since it costs us nothing, but do you truly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠believe all of them combined will muster even ten?"

The Doljabi grounds were, after all, House Eshua's inner sanctum. To the nobles with Saint candidates of their own, it would feel like an open provocation—and the reasoning ran that every one of them would simply ignore it. Let them glimpse a hollow, empty feast, and they would learn exactly where they stood. So sneered Goel: let the fool who had so naively fastened that ring to the child blame nothing but his own stupidity.

That, at least, had been certain.

"What? HOW many?"

On the day of the Doljabi, Goel could not trust his own ears.

"148?! Did you say one hundred and forty-eight Saint candidates? That many people actually came? HERE?"

"Yes. One hundred forty-eight Saint candidates precisely, and counting their retainers and attendant nobles, some 3,789 in all. Against all expectation, they appear to have gathered with tremendous interest."

Clutching the back of his neck, Goel had a great deal he wanted to say, but resolved to economize on curses.

"Hmph. Nameless nobodies swarming in like moths to a flame, obviously."

"N-no, my lord... the truth is, from the great Marcher houses down to central aristocrats whose names you would surely know—"

"What?"

Goel's pupils trembled. The servant rolled his eyes, carefully reading his master's mood.

"And... and one thing more."

"What now! WHO came?!"

"His Majesty the Emperor..."

Goel could not close his mouth.

Those pride-swollen nobles, coming here of all places—why?

What, with THIS turnout?!