Crossroads
It still felt somehow unreal that a full month had already passed since I left the Imperial Capital.
We may have fallen behind schedule, but the simple fact that we had reached this place without a single mishap was, in its own small way, a comfort.
Somerne Village, nestled in the southeastern reaches of the Metran Kingdom, seemed remarkably at ease with welcoming outsiders for a village its size.
And no wonder — this was where the famous Sword of Grandeus stood planted.
A greatsword seized with rust, driven into the earth at a slant.
...What I had felt the first time I laid eyes on it was rather difficult to put into words.
“The village is less than ten years old, but it's grown quite sizable by now. It serves as a trade post as well — not quite a famous hub for intermediary commerce, but a solid second choice for anyone passing through.”
And here, too, a branch of the Edenlevan Coalition had taken root.
A grown woman who introduced herself as Ruslan — blue-skinned, snow-white-haired, and possessed of a voluptuous figure.
With twisted black horns jutting from either side of her head, she made not the slightest effort to hide what she was. She practically broadcast it: I am a demon, and proud of it.
“Rui! Your beauty is devastating today, as always! Pretty every single time I see you!”
“That's right~! I am always beautiful! Thank you for the compliment. Even hearing it every day, it never gets old.”
“Then are you free tonight?”
“Nope! Today's not my day, so ask me again some other time~!”
Among the men, her popularity was explosive.
That she drew so little wariness even from the women was, in truth, rather surprising.
“Affection and interest. Before beauty and pleasure, everyone becomes a docile little lamb. They're all so simple, but adorable, aren't they? Looking after them is its own reward.”
And with that, she declared — chin raised in pride — that she discriminated against no race, and that above all, she never touched married men or married women.
...Married men, fine. But married women too? Touch what, exactly, and how?
“The Church of Irenis calls places like this debauched and lecherous, and whatnot... but here, they're rather open about that side of life.”
Saying so, Ruslan slyly latched onto Cariel's arm and wound herself around it.
“If you'd like, you and I could—”
“Rui. Sadly, my master is a born ascetic — a regular monk of a man. He won't have any interest in that sort of thing.”
“Don't you know it's men like that who end up the most depraved for it?”
Luirin and Ruslan seemed fairly close.
“Well, with that little body, who could she even hope to seduce?”
“...I happen to be preserving my integrity, thank you?”
“Oh my. Why, that's precisely the ideal woman in the Empire. Why not keep guarding that purity, then enter a convent and guard it for the rest of your life? Who knows — the Lord might welcome you with open arms, praising your virtue?”
That said.
For a tone meant to tease a child, the content of her words was remarkably cutting.
The village was built in stepped tiers, its districts formed across hills and valleys and ravines alike. Most of the residential quarters occupied the middle tiers, between the upper and lower levels. Taken as a whole, the settlement comprised four tiers.
And the topmost tier was the very origin and wellspring of the village's birth.
...The place where the Sword of Grandeus stood planted was treated, within the Metran Kingdom, as a holy site of their very own.
Looking around, the crowds were considerable.
“There are plenty of street stalls, too.”
The line of those waiting, moreover, was long.
“Merchants may scramble to claim their spots down below, but anyone who comes to see the planted sword — to speak of blessings, of divine favor and the like — makes their way up here without fail.”
The influence of the Irenis faith reached here as well, yet there was no proper church, no cathedral — only a single humble chapel, standing alone.
Given that the chapel also served as an orphanage... perhaps that was the pretext under which the Church had infiltrated(?) the place.
After all, this was hardly a land where the native faith had not already taken firm root.
The founding people of the Metran Kingdom were of the Ice-Sea Sand folk.
They had carried their own indigenous religion, but as the ages flowed and they became part of the continent, the polytheism of the old great empire of Vera joined in, and the native faiths of every region besides, until—
before anyone realized it, a religious culture entirely their own had taken shape.
And so they were at once the same as and different from Dabas — the same people, sharing a border — and set apart as well from the nearby Banus Kingdom a little farther off.
...Unlike those two kingdoms, Metran had achieved harmony and concord between its natives and all the various races; its royal authority was weaker than its neighbors', it seemed, but its bonds were that much tighter for it.
The same went for its multicultural character, and its absence of any particular persecution of one faith or another.
...That the Empire devoted itself so earnestly to improving relations with Metran was partly, no doubt, to keep Dabas in check — but one could hardly deny it was also because this was prime ground for the expansion of the Irenis Church.
“If Dabas is chained to the notion of eternal divine favor, Metran has nothing of the sort. Here, it's a polytheistic culture with the South Wind God at its heart, embracing all the other gods and spirits and local deities besides — so as long as no one is foolish enough to start an argument over whose god stands above the rest, there will be no great conflict with anyone.”
“...So Irenis followers have caused their share of trouble here, I take it.”
“It's simply the hallmark of those who worship a single god. Bragging so proudly about things that aren't remotely praiseworthy.”
It was, I gathered, the customary remark — and warning — that anyone born in the Empire and raised in the Irenis faith would offer.
“In any case, if you need help, come find our Somerne branch. That covers the basic introduction... is there anything else you need?”
“No. This has been more than enough help.”
“Hurry up and go, then. Shoo, shoo!”
Luirin puffed air at her, like shooing off a snake.
“Why, this little rascal!”
Perhaps Ruslan found Luirin's attitude sorely displeasing. Her distinctive yellow eyes flashed and her face scrunched — then her expression changed in an instant, and she favored Cariel with a fresh, radiant smile.
“See you again, then! Cute little brother!”
Somehow, I had acquired an older sister.
“So in the end, that was what you came here for, Master?”
Luirin sneered, as though it were absurd that he had endured such a long line all for the sake of touching a single rusted sword.
“Well...”
That was something I would simply have to find out.
The openness of the ground here was surely not designed to accommodate great numbers of people.
Nor, presumably, to permit street stalls and roadside commerce.
And yet, studied closely, the place seemed to follow rules of its own.
Then my eyes met a girl's.
Not roadside peddling — a flower shop, occupying a proper, stall-like spot in full view.
At a glance, I couldn't have said what difference separated her from a merchant hawking sundries at the roadside, or a common street vendor.
“First time here?”
“Ah — yes.”
The girl, whose smile was refreshingly bright, offered words that bordered on a gentle greeting.
Since I had come this far, I asked.
“Everyone seems to be buying flowers.”
“I don't know who started it... but that's how it came to be, I'm told.”
The girl, whose pale blue hair was the color of the sky, smiled gently, her snow-white eyes crinkling at the corners.
A white dress; over her shoulders a shawl like a living veil, thick with lively, pale-brown fur; and over that again a muffler that looked like sheep's wool bunched and braided together.
...She looked very warmly dressed.
Perhaps because, if not quite highland, the elevation here was considerable.
“Do you need some?”
“...Naturally, I'd have to pay for them, would I not?”
“Heh heh heh.”
I browsed the many varieties of flowers in every color, and asked:
“Do they each carry their own meaning, their own flower language?”
“Of course.”
And she explained them, one by one.
“Plants don't much interest me unless they're herbs.”
Luirin, having lost interest entirely, was busily browsing elsewhere.
Then, without quite knowing why, my gaze drifted to a cane-like implement set beside the chair she sat on.
“Oh, this?”
Before rising from her chair, she braced both hands upon it, and—
“...As you can see, this is how I am.”
Only once she had leaned her weight on it could she barely raise herself upright — and even then, she seemed to need to keep clinging to the cane.
“I see.”
Cariel gave only a small nod.
“If it's your first visit, then I recommend this flower.”
Snow-white petals, with a distinctly yellow center.
Knowing nothing of the structure of flowers, Cariel had only ever vaguely registered that the yellow part in the middle was the place where bees pressed their faces.
The memory surfaced suddenly, vivid as life: long ago, snapping off a few blossoms and, mimicking the bees, pressing his lips to that part and sucking away — only to spit it straight back out.
“It's a common wildflower. I'm told it was the one Lord Grandeus loved most in life.”
“......Is that so?”
“They say he often remarked that his own lot was like the wild grass of the field. I don't know the details myself — it's only a story I overheard.”
The wild grass of the field, was it.
“Master. Were you that fond of flowers? Or was your interest perhaps drawn to some other kind of flower?”
“......”
Left with nothing to say, Cariel simply took a single small wildflower in his hand.
“Thank you.”
That bright smile somehow looked piteous, seen from one side.
Though for what reason, he could not say.
Only then did he join the line — but a good while remained still before his turn would come.
“Leo, do you know anything about the legend of Grandeus?”
“Me? I'm from the kingdom across the way, so I don't really know much.”
“...And yet you came all this way here, of all places.”
“What about you, Luciri?”
“Then listen well. This is the tale of the time when the perilous Demon King known as the Golden Beast had only just invaded—”
The two young people at the front of the line, unable to bear their boredom, were deep in conversation.
A plain boy with brown hair and black eyes.
A faded linen shirt, trousers of leather, and — most striking below — a pair of sturdy leather boots.
At his waist, a small knife caught the eye: its hilt, wrapped layer upon layer in cloth, worn smooth with use.
The girl, by contrast, seemed to have come from somewhere cold: a black dress whose hem and collar were unified and heaped thick with fur.
Over that she wore a white cloak, but long exposure to dust and dirt had left its marks written plainly upon it.
Yet in contrast to all this, her golden hair held a soft inner luster, and the balanced symmetry of her features called forth, unbidden, the impression of a great beauty.
If one judged station by dress alone, she was surely no commoner.
“But that was barely a little over ten years ago, wasn't it? Why on earth would people call it a legend?”
As Luirin, unable to endure the tedium, cut in—
“...To be precise, this year marks the eighteenth since the Golden Beast died. Lord Grandeus first revealed himself twenty-three years ago.”
“You must admire him a great deal.”
“In the Metran Kingdom and the neighboring lands, there are countries and domains that were spared destruction thanks to him.”
She said this with a hand resting upon the curve of her chest.
“We mean never to forget that devotion and those labors. And all because that wretch Rueld, invoking the honor of knighthood or whatever else, demanded a duel with him... in the end, only the precious one passed away. And yet — he was, in his day, the only... the only knight who could stand against that Rueld.”
“Here in this region, where knighthood is honored but the warrior revered above the knight, he's respected. In the Empire, which exalts chivalry above all, he's turned away. How contradictory.”
“That's because those Imperial bastards are all glitter on the surface and nothing beneath.”
...I sympathized deeply.
Why was it, I wondered, that hearing curses leveled against the Empire stirred not anger in me, but resonance?
And had she caught that mood as well?
She turned her gaze from Luirin to me.
“You think so too, don't you? From the look in your eyes, you seem very much to share my opinion.”
“...I do.”
“A comrade, then! How wonderful. I'm Luciri Olgoret.”
Absentmindedly, I took her black-gloved hand.
Her pale gray eyes were sparkling with quite unexpected camaraderie.
“I'm called Riel.”
“Our master here is the scion of a great noble house, currently on his knight's training.”
“......?”
Blinking, Luciri looked between Luirin and me, then asked:
“Are you, by any chance, from the Empire?”
“I am. But since it's true enough that the Empire is full of hypocrites and lechers, pay it no mind.”
“......”
“Hahaha. Got you good, Luciri.”
“That's rich, coming from you, Leo! It is not!”
Luciri lashed out with a kick, and the boy called Leo alone paid the price, clutching his kicked leg and hopping about in pained misery.
“On your knight's training, and you curse your own country? Isn't loyalty a knight's foremost virtue?”
“What does that have to do with patriotism?”
“Ah — I suppose one could see it that way. Loyalty and patriotism are different things? A fascinating view.”
...Thanks to those two, the wait in line was never once dull.
“By the way — that little lady called you Master. What exactly is the relationship between you two...?”
“He's announced it as knight's training, but that's merely the formality... travel is the true purpose.”
She said so, casually showing the lute slung across her back.
“She's my guide, and somehow, before I knew it, things turned out this way.”
“Now that's a curious bond.”
The girl found it tremendously intriguing.
“And the road from the Empire all the way here surely wasn't an easy one.”
“Things happen.”
While the girl and I were trading these words—
“But, um... er, what's your name, my lady?”
“Don't talk so stiffly — relax. You're clearly much older than me.”
“Uh, um... w-well, all right, then? I'm Leo. And you?”
“Luirin. Not that you need to remember. Though if your name is Leo, shouldn't you look something terribly imposing and threatening?”
“Huh? Should I?”
He swallowed the sigh — for that, too, would have been rude.
“Luirin. Not just with me — didn't I tell you before? Picking fights over someone's name is bad manners.”
“A fight? A name is the proof of one's soul. Surely it's only natural to adorn and shape oneself so as to be worthy of it?”
Luciri asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Isn't that the demon way of thinking... no, the Edenlevan side's?”
“I did grow up among them. I have no mother or father. No — should I say, I don't know them?”
“......”
“......”
The atmosphere froze over completely.
Luirin.
Why did she hurl this out so proudly, every single time?
I knew the reason.
She meant to sever the tie at once — or brace herself for the blow — the moment anyone's attitude changed upon hearing it.
“If you say it that way from the very start, think how bewildered these people must be.”
“Even so, it's better they know in advance — otherwise they'll only complain later about being kept in the dark.”
“......”
Charging headfirst, she managed well enough. But the delicate work of building a relationship slowly... that, as ever, seemed to be a problem for her.
...Not that I, a human being, was in any position to lecture on the matter — as though my own social graces or relations with others were anything to boast of.
They were not.
But I did possess knowledge of how to conduct oneself in the world, and so all I could do was weigh that knowledge and offer what guidance I could.
“Sh-she's a distinctive child, isn't she. Sharp and decisive, and all.”
“S-she grew up strong, then. Admirable.”
Suddenly met with looks and words brimming with pity—
“Uh — huh?”
Luirin began to panic.
“......”
Having known nothing but contempt and rejection, Luirin had always struck first, lest she be underestimated.
This pure, unclouded, worry-filled concern must have left her thoroughly flustered.
“......”
But they saw her kindly, interpreted her kindly — and somewhere in that, she must have thought:
So there are bonds like this, too.
Cariel quietly watched Luirin, helplessly flustered beneath the earnest flood of comfort and encouragement from the two young people, and quietly clicked his tongue.
And so the line shortened, and shortened still.
At last, their turn came.
There — in that place—
the rusted sword, driven at a slant, stood planted in the earth.