A Holy Land? A Pilgrimage? (3)
When the sun set, darkness raised its head.
Not even the heart of the Empire was exempt from that rule.
There were, of course, places that lit their lamps at this hour — but the purpose behind those lights made all the difference in the world.
And the Imperial Palace, standing at the very center of the Empire's heart, was no exception to this either.
There, it was not lamplight but mana-lamps fueled by magic stones that pushed back the night.
And gathered in that place now were the Emperor and the Empress —
and, for the two of them a teacher on one hand and a senior figure of history on the other, the great elven archmage Geornia dey Adelweiss.
The red sofa was so plush that even a body as small as hers might have drowned in it entirely.
Geornia had sunk deep into it, leaning her upper body — arms included — against a silver armrest, as though the couch had swallowed her whole.
With her robe removed, she wore little more than close-fitting shorts and a top that hugged her chest and throat.
Her skin was stark white, almost at odds with the gray-and-gold of her attire.
Not a single blemish marred it — and not only that. Everything about her was so immaculate, so radiant and fresh, that one might wonder whether the concept of wrinkles had ever applied to her at all.
Barefoot, bare-legged, sitting with her legs crossed, she exuded an air so languid it went beyond sloth — steeped, even, in a deep world-weariness.
But for all her loose posture and lax expression,
her densely verdant green eyes carried an unmistakable edge.
Her hair, once freed from its robe, seemed impossibly long — it filled the backrest of the sofa to overflowing, spilling over and trailing down behind it. She combed through it idly with her fingers, half in play, as she asked:
"Why isn't Rueld here?"
"Something urgent came up, and he had to step away."
"…He didn't leave because you told him to?"
She was every bit as bold in front of the Emperor as anywhere else.
And both the Emperor and the Empress accepted it without rebuke, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Do I look like a man capable of rattling off lies so calmly?"
"That's what makes you so infuriating."
Geornia scrunched her face, as if she'd bitten into something bitter.
"We've already spoken with Mel about the situations that might have befallen Cariel."
The first: that he had seen a demon, and been caught up in something connected to it.
"The second: that a specific relic drew the boy in. And the third… that someone guided him there. With a particular intent in mind."
"…Our speculation does not stray far from that range."
"You don't think the brat got greedy and went after the treasury himself?"
"…Could that even be possible?"
The Emperor answered without a flicker of hesitation.
"Hm."
"And the possibility that Cariel had been concealing his strength all along — or, alternatively, that he originally had no power at all but gained it in the wake of this incident — was also part of our speculation. Measured against what you've just described, there are points where the two accounts dovetail, aren't there?"
"Why the hell are you making it so complicated? Just conclude that he made a demon contract and got his power, and be done with it. What else could it be? Or are you going to tell me an angel descended and granted it to him? Or that your imperial ancestors' ancient forebear took a liking to that toad of yours and blessed Cariel with power instead of you lot? Does that sound plausible to you?"
"……"
Displeasure began, slowly, to show itself openly in the face of Geornia's raised voice.
"I know perfectly well you didn't summon me here to pin blame on me. So whatever you're seeing on my face right now has nothing to do with this affair. Don't get it twisted."
"…I understand. You needn't tell me — it's abundantly clear."
The Emperor received her complaints and irritation with uncomplaining grace.
The Empress's black eyes beside him trembled with unease, but a single glance from the Emperor was enough to diffuse her anxiety before it could take root.
"My daughter — Elhermina — raised a certain question with us. It gave rise to something I wished to ask, and I judged that no one but my teacher, or one who stands above even her, could give us a proper answer."
"…Speak."
An awkward silence settled over the room for a moment.
What could possibly require all this stalling?
Toward Geornia, whose features were slowly crumpling with impatience:
"Could it be that Cariel has been struck by some peculiar curse? And if that curse is so rare, so singular, that almost no one could detect it —"
"Hold on. What is that supposed to be? Are you suspecting us right now?"
"No. Calm yourself, and hear me out to the end."
"……"
Geornia, who had been leaning forward until her upper body threatened to fold in half, forced herself back into her seat.
"It is our conjecture that, in the moment of connecting to the World Tree, the boy may have taken upon himself some ancient curse or calamity."
"How is that any different from saying it's our fault?!"
"Even if it was never intended?"
"And what basis does that speculation of yours have?"
"…That is precisely what we are sorting through now."
"You little brat, is this some kind of joke to you?! You think you can fudge your way past me with that?!"
"…It is not my speculation. It is Elhermina's."
"Ah. Well, isn't that convenient."
Yet perhaps she found it persuasive after all, because Geornia — who had been mid-rant — seemed to be making an effort to collect herself.
"That's why his reputation, both among your household and within the capital itself, was utter garbage, isn't it? I find myself a little curious as to what kind of damnable curse could make that possible?"
"…And if it isn't a curse, then that is a problem in its own right."
Viewed from one angle, it might have been nothing more than an unrealistic delusion.
And yet.
Elhermina had confessed that she felt a profound sense of wrongness.
And that she had only realized it after Cariel had left.
The reason she found that particular point so difficult to shake was—
"Ah. You're here."
Geornia turned her gaze toward the door.
A moment later,
a knock sounded.
The aged gentleman who served as the chamberlain of the royal household stepped inside, offering a composed smile as he announced the visitor.
"Hameln Ruslef Eiha, at your service."
"Ruslef…"
One of the southern kingdoms destroyed during the demon invasion — he recalled that it had borne that very name.
"A descendant of a fallen nation."
A girl born between an elf and a half-elf.
"Hm…"
The Emperor expressed his condolences with a complicated expression.
Hameln bowed lightly in gratitude for the sentiment.
"Now then — tell me everything you heard, and tell it straight. Don't leave a single thing out."
…Thank goodness her manner of speaking is back to normal.
Hameln felt a flicker of cynicism at her own position — one where she had to find reassurance in something so trivial.
But that was not what mattered now.
"The account is somewhat long. Is that acceptable?"
"Summarize. I'll ask follow-up questions if I want detail — so summarize."
"The decisive cause of Cariel's ruined reputation was that Cariel abetted the abandonment of a young girl, and abetted the contempt and banishment of commoners —"
"What? Hey! Hey! Hold on! Shut up a second. What kind of toad's-fart nonsense is that? Did I hear you correctly?"
And there, once more,
Geornia turned her gaze upon the Emperor and the Empress.
"Please hear her out to the end. It was later proven to be a misunderstanding, but —"
"So some ugly rumor spread far and wide, people got the wrong idea, and with just that, the poor kid got branded as scum of the earth. Sound about right?"
"…That is exactly as you say."
"Is that the end of it?"
"Lacking in ability, beneath standards, worst possible social aptitude, keeping company with disreputable people, frequenting back alleys and reaching into illegal enterprises —"
"Where in the hell did you hear that garbage? That's not Cariel — you sure you didn't drag back rumors about some poisonous-mushroom lookalike with the same name?"
"…Incredibly, it is all Cariel Brendiar. This is the reputation our Cariel carries."
"…Did the whole damned Empire drink from a poisoned chalice together?"
"More recently, it's said he went to the pleasure districts night after night living a debauched life. And the earliest rumor of all holds that he incited an incident of violence, drove a teacher into a broken husk, and beat several princes and noble sons half to death — and that under the pretext of a holy pilgrimage, he was sent beyond the walls. Exiled, in practical terms, if only temporarily…"
"Exiled? Hey. Am I hearing this right? You people exiled Cariel?"
"No. Let me state this plainly… that is absolutely not the case."
"Then where is Cariel?"
"That is…"
The Emperor opened his mouth several times, only to fall silent before Geornia, whose voice was climbing toward an explosion.
"You're going to sit there hemming and hawing because you don't know where one brat is? Out with it! Or what — did Cariel turn into some poisonous mushroom or a toad overnight without any of us knowing? Ah, I won't say that's impossible, but is that it? Is that why you asked all that — just now! About curses and whatever else! Because the brat has gone completely mad and no one can figure out why? Huh? Was that it?!"
"Master. Please, compose yourself."
"Compose myself? Listen to me. If this news makes its way to the upper ranks in its current form, this stops being a matter that ends with severed diplomatic ties. Do I need to remind you whose sake it was that we overlooked things time and again, lent you our lightning-quick support? You think we bowed and scraped because Rueld threatened to chop down the World Tree and we were scared?"
"The story isn't finished yet, is it? Ascertain the facts beyond doubt first — then rage, then rant, all you like."
"…You're laboring under one massive misunderstanding, so allow me a few choice words."
You people, that is.
"Can you not see, plain as day, everything that brat has endured? Hameln! That business — the misunderstanding, the false accusation, about him abandoning a girl and driving out commoners? When was that supposed to have happened?"
"Five years ago."
"You people are lower than toads! So all that time, that child suffered every conceivable… no, wait — still. You would have believed him. Rueld and Ermina aren't fools either, so surely they did their best to manage it, patch things up somehow. Didn't they?"
"……"
"…Why are you falling silent at that? Here of all places, this is where you're supposed to nod and say, 'Of course they did.' Why are you looking at me with those ill-omened faces?!"
By this point, Geornia's head had begun to spin.
What is this.
She could not fathom, for the life of her, what was going through these bastards' heads.
Had the world's values and ways of thinking changed without her knowing?
Or had they simply all gone mad together after the Demon King vanished?
Or had something truly unavoidable occurred — something that turned Cariel, that boy, into a scoundrel even a demon would flinch from?
"You people. What exactly have you been playing at these past few years? And Cariel — why can't you find him?! Is that all the Empire is worth?! At the very least have the decency to come out and say you're not even looking!"
It was then.
A knock — and the door opened.
"If it would not be an imposition, might I say a word or two on that matter myself?"
Imperial Princess Elhermina stepped into the reception chamber, her face the very portrait of composure.