That Could Never Be Reality (3)
The guest chambers of the Imperial Palace overflowed with every conceivable comfort.
And yet, compared to the buildings of the elves — groves of parasite-plants newly seeded upon the boughs of great, sturdy trees — they felt rather distant from anything resembling nature, which was a complaint, if one wished to call it that. Even the gardens were artificial, and admittedly charming in their own way; but by the standards of the Forest Clan, even granting the elves their own sensibilities, the whole place felt unwholesome in any number of regards, and there was nothing to be done about it.
It was tolerable, if only because Geornia was hardly delicate about such things — a slight change in the air was enough to sour her expression, and at worst she would retch, but she could manage. No, if she were being honest with herself, with no overbearing fools to tiptoe around, it was rather pleasant to have the leisure for rest and research alike.
"Are you certain about this? You are the Empress of this nation, you know. Can you really so readily allow me into this place?"
When Geornia asked, pinching the bridge of her nose as a manner of speaking, Melineos — famed far and wide as the Magic Empress — nodded calmly, her eyes bright.
"That is precisely why we are concluding the contract, isn't it?"
"…Well. Yes, but still."
Among the High Elves, there were those who possessed special abilities.
One such power was a faculty for discerning the color of souls, and refined to its ultimate degree, it could even glimpse the past of the soul in question.
But that was, beyond any dispute, a taboo.
Even those permitted its use were bound by strict restrictions, and anyone caught wielding it recklessly would face the extreme punishment of having both eyes gouged out and the tongue torn away as well.
Which meant that this was not a decision even Geornia could make lightly.
Above all — to handle it on her own authority, without even reporting to her superiors?
…If discovered, matters would become inconvenient in every possible way.
And yet it was possible, because the ones who required it stood at the very heart of the Empire's power. And because they had consented to it without objection. But were she to simply peer about at random, the fallout could spread in directions no one desired — hence the contract, to govern the direction and pace of it all.
…Come to think of it, contracts were, after all, the creations of the Demon Realm and its demons.
Of old, there had been two Great Demon Kings in the Demon Realm — or three, if one counted the most recent, across six thousand years of history.
The first Great Demon King established the Demon King Festival — a system by which anyone who met the qualifications and requirements could rise to become Demon King — and thereby laid the cornerstone of the Demon Realm's hierarchy.
The second Great Demon King, finding that even so the Demon Realm remained a chaos without order or discipline, consulted with the Demon God and established what was called the Absolute Compliance Contract.
And this Absolute Compliance Contract was made to be jointly administered by three powers — the Demon God, the Neutral God, and the Good God — so constructed that no skewed axis could tilt it, and no unjust terms could ever be enacted.
Naturally.
There were ways to abuse it, and certainly methods existed to coerce others into agreements against their will.
But that was a matter of reality, and thus merely each party's own affair.
In the Middle Realm, mages had once regarded such contracts as the work of demons and the demonkin — but with the rise of the mages' social standing and the acceptance of the clergy, the Absolute Compliance Contract entered yet another phase entirely.
Take the Edenlevan Coalition. Barely a decade or so had passed since they had been proud demonkin of the Demon Realm — invaders, no less.
Their admission into the human alliance had been possible only because they concluded such an Absolute Compliance Contract.
"Verify it.
First. What I examine shall be strictly limited to that which you, Melineos, have permitted.
Second. As you request, I shall look only into the various conditions that exert external pressure upon you or influence your mind — confined strictly to the negative, malicious influences and workings that affect you.
Third. I shall never, under any circumstance, disclose what I find. The facts I learn shall be conveyed to Melineos alone.
Fourth. That which I, Geornia, examine with my ability shall be strictly confined to a portion of Melineos's memories."
Geornia, who had carved the words of light written upon the air into paper as though transcribing them, held the document out and demanded confirmation with a look.
"…Even bounded and narrowed this much, I doubt we will reach the answer we seek."
"Then what — shall I dig through your brain, and every other girl's besides, on the strength of that preposterous talk about a curse or whatever it was? That poisonous-mushroom nonsense?"
"……"
"Alesius, was it? He'll be proceeding under these same conditions. If you're uneasy, withdraw."
"…No."
Melineos shook her head.
"I believe it is necessary."
"You, of all people, shouldn't need this. Something's caught on you, hasn't it? A dream you can't remember, perhaps?"
"……Yes."
She had dreamed something.
And yet, she could not remember it.
It was not the first time such a thing had happened.
But this time, far from an ordinary dream, some vast and ominous premonition stirred within her.
"Understood. Then when do we begin?"
"Is there any reason to hesitate?"
"Fair enough."
Geornia exhaled as though emptying her lungs, then looked around the room.
"Everyone out. All of you. You too."
"Me as well?"
When Hameln, who had been waiting at Geornia's back, protested —
"Not even the slightest interference will be permitted."
"Understood."
Hameln, and the Empress's handmaidens with her, filed naturally out of the guest chambers.
"Lie down over there. Shall I send you to your own bedchamber, if you prefer? If this couch is uncomfortable…."
"No, thank you. I slept on grass spread over bare floor before, and I sleep just as well now."
"Now that I like. I was half ready to bark at you if you'd gone addle-headed drunk on gold and silver and copper."
All of those things exist to rot the mind, anyway.
The sermon-that-was-not-a-sermon continued right up until Melineos laid herself down on the couch.
"Hah. Right. Then — here I go."
A small white hand, small as befitted her slight frame, reached out and pressed against Melineos's brow.
Before long, Geornia stood in a desolate corridor.
"Uuum?"
She knew it was a corridor of the Imperial Palace.
What felt familiar and unfamiliar at once was the atmosphere, which was utterly unlike anything she had ever seen. Gloomy, and dark, and nothing else.
However vast the palace might be, not even a trace of human presence could be felt; outside, ominous clouds seemed to have gathered, and the whole world was stiflingly dim.
Even the lamps that should have lit the corridor had all gone dark, and though it was unmistakably daytime, the desolation edged into something barren, lifeless.
It was not merely the absence of people. At its root, the management of the domain itself—
"A place this enormous must make its upkeep a labor of giants."
Though the corridor was unknown to her, she walked its interior with ease.
It was the Imperial Palace, true — but even palaces came in varieties.
And the reason this place's atmosphere looked so familiar was that this was the Second Palace where Melineos resided — informally known as the Empress's Palace.
She had visited many times before, had she not come here several times even of late?
Perhaps that was why.
"Lululalaa~?"
When she first caught sight of the girl there — humming that strange trill of a whistle, that off-key little song —
Geornia thought nothing of it.
She had been too busy thinking of why she had come here, of the connections, the logic of the place.
This was the very heart of Melineos's memory — so why was that creature visible here?
Imagination, or dream?
She needed to establish the viewpoint as well.
Was this an omniscient perspective observing an imagination, a conception?
Or was she an observer watching the landscape of a dream?
It had been Geornia herself who taught Melineos to interpret her Precognitive Dream — to whatever degree such a thing could be interpreted.
So even if Geornia did not appear in the dream.
Even if she appeared as someone else entirely, some other form altogether.
That was possible, because it was a dream.
Which meant that this place was, with high probability, the landscape of a dream.
And therefore.
…What, exactly, was that golden girl?
Why had she appeared so suddenly?
What manner of creature was she?
Look at her — wandering the corridor, peeking about with all the innocence of a child.
…She didn't know the reason.
But dread crept over her.
Her jaw trembled of its own accord.
The golden girl passed right by her, brushing past as though she did not exist, innocent and carefree.
Only long after — only when she felt the girl's presence finally fade away —
did Geornia let out a breath of relief.
And then she turned around.
It was there, before her eyes.
"—?!"
A scream nearly burst from her throat.
Perhaps because the shock was too great.
Even that was swallowed back down.
"My, my. A rather curious guest, aren't you."
The golden girl, wearing a smile, leaned her face in close — hovering in the air before her, floating free of the ground.
Close enough that she could hear her breathing, close enough that the warmth of her breath teased the skin, the fine hairs of her face.
The distance between them was, in truth, no more than the width of a single finger.
"I can guess. You've come to peek, haven't you. Well, of course you'd be curious."
"…What are you? A demon?"
"How insulting. Why would you compare me to those trash-born things? You're ruining my mood."
She burst out laughing.
Innocent, childlike laughter — and yet the words it carried were savage.
"There was a tale, you see, of some fool who defied the Great Demon King, moaning and wailing about it. Care to take a guess at what happened?"
"……"
Who could it be, to speak of the Great Demon King?
Gold.
…Who could it be.
Gold.
"……"
She knew who that was.
She simply did not wish to believe it.
As though her unconscious were warning her — do not recognize this, do not so much as imagine whether it is true — the knowledge was freezing Geornia's mind solid.
"'Why can I never defeat you? When an absurd existence like you appears, what meaning is there left in our effort, our will?' — they railed on like that, nearly sobbing. Care to guess what the Great Demon King said in reply?"
"……"
"The right to silence! Wonderful! Awakening fools is also a king's virtue, so I'll enlighten you. My own limits were decided at that moment, after all. Now, let's see…."
The golden girl cleared her throat for a moment, and then began, with a flourish:
"One born of the sun must, for that very reason, be the sun."
"And so that one can do nothing but accept the sun's fate, its long-held burden, its destiny."
That one was the sun — and so was forced into a life, an existence, in which nothing beyond the sun was ever permitted.
"And the moment the sun goes dark, the world will sink into ruin. And those who bear the sun's destiny are the ones who know, better than anyone, the tragedy that will come."
But—
"You, weed — wild grass strewn across the field — you can become anything. Do not grieve that no one will care if you vanish."
And therefore, and therefore alone—
"A fate that seems abandoned, neglected, is yours alone to carve out; no one will ever force it upon you."
Because only you could do it—
"You may press forward as you please, or fall back, or settle where you stand."
What a life!
What a free life!
……Hah.
And there it stopped.
The golden girl, who had declaimed with all the exaggeration of an actor upon a stage, placed a hand upon her chest and beamed a radiant smile, offering up something like an impression.
"…Spoken like one who could afford to be the sun itself, I suppose."
"And why tell me this?"
"Oh dear. Oh dear. You spoiled thing. Time you figured it out, no? I know you, but you don't know me?"
"……"
"Your elder sister said something to you once, didn't she?"
What if—
"If it had been you, and not her, who first beheld me — you too would have gladly sworn your loyalty to me."
"……That's impossible."
Why.
Why.
Why—!
"Why are you here?! Because it's a dream? Even granting that — why, of all beings, you—?!"
"Whoa, whoa there! Yes! It's a dream, all of it true! I only got swept in here myself, somehow or other. And this is something like my lingering regret, so pressing me about it is quite pointless. Ah — not entirely pointless, just a teensy bit different? Anyway, that's how it is."
"……"
"In that spirit, before your eyes now stands the palace of wisdom and gold. I am dead, and gone, and so I am nothing now but a vault of wisdom — a storehouse, an archive. So? Curious yet, why your sister gave me her loyalty?"
"…What new sorcery are you attempting now?"
"Oh, please! You know perfectly well I have no interest in sorcery or tricks! That isn't the domain of wisdom in the first place."
What I gave your sister was really nothing at all.
"I merely asked — and I told that child of the truth of the world. Of your futures. Of a reality so absurd it could draw a wail from anyone's throat. Things of that sort, and nothing more."
"……"
"Not curious? Hmm? Truly? And the two of you were so close? You were sisters of the same blood, weren't you?"
Geornia.
Refused, decisively.
"I have not yet forgotten the counsel you once gave me."
"Oh? Have you, now? Do tell. What was it?"
"That the more knowledge one embraces, the more one desires to do. That the craving only swells. That the thirst only deepens."
"Really? Did I say such a thing? Sound advice. It's true, isn't it?"
"…And so you told me to curb my greed?"
For a mage, it was counsel worth more than any treasure.
And at the same time, it was a curse — ruthlessly, relentlessly realistic.
Because that advice was itself the very root of the thing that had hurled every mage and sorcerer into despair and nightmare.
Burrowing into truth in pursuit of truth, buried by it, losing themselves — losing their humanity, their first purpose, even their will —
and becoming demons, one and all.
That was the fate of most who sought truth.
Clutching at straws, they searched for knowledge, chased it, excavated it —
hounded by the time they lacked, overtaken by life itself.
And so.
Most mages and sorcerers.
Whether magnificent, or wretched, or hardly worth notice —
every last one met the same end, all equally.
And even those who stood against it.
There would be no exceptions.
Certainly, that path was not wrong.
And precisely because of that, most could not help but be wrong.
Therefore—
"…You told me to give up on climbing higher."
"Precisely. The limits of knowledge are plain to see. To reach truth through knowledge? To attempt with knowledge what even wisdom could not achieve — it's no different from wishing to live without a heart or a brain. If you had followed that advice of mine? You'd have been the wisest of all the countless mages in the world. That much, I'll guarantee."
"……I cannot fathom how you can assert that with such certainty."
"Ignorance and unknowing are, it's true, the greatest sins the living carry. But they are not, unconditionally, original sin. So don't torment yourself over it, you deaf little fool."
What you all must come to realize is—
"Simply to admit that you do not know. Only then can you begin anew."
"Spare me the cheap philosophizing. So — why are you here?"
"Astonishing as it may seem."
The golden girl flung both arms wide.
"I am in the midst of bestowing goodwill upon you all!"
"Don't spout such lunacy! Of all the—"
"No, no! It's really true! Whether you believe it or not, though, that's your problem to judge, not mine."
Either way, it made no difference to me.
"Shall I tell you the truth? Or not? You want to know what Melineos saw, don't you? That's why you dug all the way down here, isn't it? Then you've come to exactly the right place."
But here is the thing.
"If you see this, you truly won't be able to bear it. Better not to know, honestly. You… can you really bear it?"
"……"
Suddenly, she was afraid.
Geornia found that mad golden rambling terrifying beyond all reason.
It was the first time she had witnessed that human form.
But that presence — that unmistakable presence—
even in that tiny body, it reached her whole and undiminished.
Ordinarily, no one would know.
But she, who had devoted herself to magic—
knew how deep-rooted a being that was.
Knew how vast its true magnitude.
Even wearing the body of a mere girl.
…That thing still seemed as though it could blanket all the world in gold.
How, in all the world, had Rueld ever brought that thing down?
A being whose very name was treated as taboo — feared to leap forth again even from a nightmare — one that no one dared so much as mention.
They called it in contempt, the Golden Beast.
…That being.
The Demon King who presided over wisdom itself.
In all the old Demon Realm, not a single soul had ever ascribed meaning to it.
If anything at all, then knowledge.
Intrigue. Heresy. Taboo — those existed in plenty.
And yet not one being had ever willingly accepted wisdom as its own fate, and assented to it.
Scorning and despising demons — beings above its own kind, though it was itself mere demonkin, its birth unrelated even to the demons.
And yet of its own accord, gladly casting away everything it possessed—
becoming no more than a single demonkin—
…The ancient Spirit King.
"Ah! No need to choose this instant. I am merciful, so I'll grant you the chance to think it over."
"What?"
In that instant, Geornia's consciousness hurtled away from reality at terrifying speed.
No. This—
"I'll give you time to deliberate! Go out and think it over at your leisure."
I told you, didn't I.
That it was goodwill.
"Whether you take the goodwill I offer and call it nightmare, curse, calamity — that is your affair. And whether I lay a curse upon you, and you call it blessing, grace, merit—"
That, too, is entirely your affair.
"That is what it means to never suffer defeat."
Whichever you choose—
so long as I lose nothing, all is well.
"If you desire nothing? Then there is nothing to lose!"
Kyahahahahah!
Ahahahahah!
Laughter like a scream shook her mind, clamorous and overwhelming.
That laughter was truly that of an innocent child —
but what lay within it—
"Khh—!"
"…M-Mistress?"
Geornia, who without warning had vomited at the bedside and crumpled beneath the chair.
As Melineos forced her clouded mind awake and looked upon her — slumped on the floor, trembling —
she could not help but sense, deep in her bones, that things had turned far graver than she had ever foreseen.