Everything According to the Natural Order (6)
I wandered the grounds for a while and came back after about two hours.
By then, I figured, the incident would be settled and the conversation would be winding down.
“You’re back?”
And that judgment turned out to be right. In exchange for looks that asked whether I’d caused yet another disaster, I received a neat summary of the situation.
In short, something had gone wrong with the Viscount of Ednium, and it looked like they would have to pay a visit.
“Under ordinary circumstances I would have refused a personal request like this… but the Viscount of Camborer came with a rather well-founded story.”
The Archmage did not look particularly pleased about the quest. Maybe it was because I was the one who had stirred up the trouble, or maybe it was because the matter appeared, on the surface, to be a private affair of the heart.
“Apparently a coded plea for help arrived in the letters the two viscounts exchange. And the letter was accompanied by a clump of animal fur.”
Romance problems were a staple of quests; I had no strong feelings on the subject. Any gamer worth their salt had played messenger at least once. Sometimes you even had to go fetch the gift itself with your own two feet.
“The problem is that, according to the Viscount of Camborer, the Viscount of Ednium suffers from a severe animal allergy.”
If I were playing my usual concept, I would probably have hated this job even more than the Archmage did. Why the hell should I have to deal with that sort of thing?
“He never goes near animals himself, and the people of the castle are careful to keep birds and cats out… yet a man with that strong an allergy enclosed animal fur in a letter, claiming it came from ‘the cat that has been visiting often lately.’ And the cipher itself signals a crisis. Does that not strike you as odd?”
On that point, the explanation was solid. Whether it was a romance or not, it reeked of something worth sticking our noses into. That was probably why the Archmage had accepted.
“Could the Viscount of Ednium possess information about the beast crisis in Camborer?”
“We cannot be certain. Still, people rarely act out of character without reason, so the possibility is high enough. Even if he has nothing, it will not matter. We already intended to search every direction for the source of the mana-tainted beasts.”
“Berserk has no idea what any of that means. So we just go?”
“For the moment, yes.”
“We still haven’t caught the tail of that loathsome creature that showed itself this time…”
When the consensus seemed to settle on “Let’s head to Ednium,” the Inquisitor’s brow twitched. From where I stood, it was nothing worth getting worked up over. With a development like this, the thing would practically jump out and introduce itself the moment we arrived.
If I were to try a little armchair prophecy based on the usual clichés: the ruling house of Ednium would turn out to be rotten, and the demon who had partnered with them would be the same one that had picked a fight with me. Or the house itself would be innocent, and some shadowy faction working behind the scenes would turn out to be in league with the temple infiltrator.
“Leave them to these people for now. You yourself confirmed there is no traitor inside the temple, did you not?”
“…Yes. You are right. We should trust them.”
One thing, however, was certain: we would catch that creature’s trail in Ednium. Not here.
“So in the end we are going to Ednium…”
As the discussion reached its conclusion, the one who had remained silent until now finally spoke. Dev.
“So it seems. Is there a problem?”
“No, not a problem exactly.”
“…If something is bothering you, speak up. It may be something I have overlooked.”
“It’s not like that, I told you.”
Come to think of it, hadn’t there been a similar conversation when we left Hudelen? Back then Dev had also asked whether we were really not going to Ednium.
Did he have bad memories of the place?
“Are you certain?”
I briefly recalled the thief’s backstory from the original work. Whether Dev’s past matched it exactly I could not say, but if it was even close, Ednium would be a place he would rather avoid.
“You do not have to force yourself on our account. If you would rather not go, simply—”
“I said no!”
Because it was the place where he had lost someone who had been like family.
“You…”
“……!”
Was this the first time Dev had raised his voice at the party out of genuine anger? The atmosphere froze instantly. The Inquisitor’s eyes went round; even the Archmage looked thoroughly startled. Berserk, well—she was off in her own world, propping her cheek on her fist and yawning.
“…I said it isn’t, so why do you keep asking?”
The one who had shouted was just as shocked as the rest of us. He had clearly not planned to react so emotionally; he hurriedly lowered his voice and stammered something else, but it did little good.
Clatter.
In the end Dev fled the room as if escaping.
“…That, that scoundrel?! If it’s no, just say no—why yell like that…!”
The dumbfounded silence finally broke. The Inquisitor, recovering from her shock, launched into a classic “What’s wrong with that guy?”
“Now, now, Inquisitor. He said it was nothing, yet he raised his voice. Why do you suppose that is?”
“You mean there is a reason? Then he should simply say—”
“Have I not already explained that everyone in this world has at least one secret they would rather not reveal to others?”
“That is…”
More importantly, what were we supposed to do about this?
A mature person might recover if simply left alone for a while, but Dev seemed like the type who needed someone to go after him, give him a pat on the back, and offer a few words of comfort. The problem was that the Archmage—our resident gentleman—was the very person who had lit the fuse. And right now he was busy educating the Inquisitor so she would not pour more oil on the fire.
Which left me. As if this concept of mine would go comfort anyone.
“Krrr…”
Berserk had already passed out cold. Comforting anyone was clearly beyond her.
What a hopeless party.
Leviathan narrowed her eyes at the human Pandemonium had connected her with. The serpent coiled around her shoulders and neck flicked its tongue and voiced a small complaint. It was hungry, and a perfectly edible human stood right in front of it yet could not be eaten; the situation clearly displeased the creature.
Truth be told, standing before a human was equally unpleasant for her. While pretending to soothe her familiar, Leviathan delivered a quiet threat. The human who had been listening smiled pale and thin. Bold as brass, this one.
“Right here.”
If he had brought what she desired, she was willing to overlook a great deal. Leviathan accepted the items the human held out. The first was a metal flask sealed tight; the second was a thick sheaf of papers.
The price she had set was high, yet he had procured everything in a single day. The Nightmare Fragment especially should have required crossing the desert to face Sloth herself.
“Credit is the pride of our house.”
Few things were more worthless than credit when desire was on the table. Leviathan snorted and picked up the second item. This, too, was impressive. She had given him only a single day, yet he had produced a sheaf this thick. Thin for a complete biography of a life, but thick enough to contain the information she wanted.
Satisfaction settled over her features.
When one obtained what one desired, one paid the proper price. Leviathan raised a hand and cupped the corner of her eye.
Drip, drip, drip.
Soon droplets fell from her eyes. The moment they left her, they hardened into pearls of luminous color—gems the world called merman tears, though in truth they formed only in the eyes of a Great Demon.
“Confirmed.”
Once the tears began, they did not stop easily even if she wished them to. Leviathan left the gems forming while she secured the flask and began leafing through the papers. Meanwhile the human gathered every tear-jewel she had shed.
“Might that human have been chosen as the next Knight, by any chance?”
She had flipped through a fair number of pages when the human, having finished collecting the gems, ventured the cautious question. Leviathan’s eyebrow climbed.
“I thought a little ‘Envy’ of this sort might be permitted.”
Hisss.
Boldness and a failure to know one’s place were separated by only a single sheet of paper. The serpent flicked its tongue as if begging to be allowed to eat him on the spot… yet Leviathan did not find such creatures distasteful.
Whether it was lust for power or something else, the jealousy that made one envy and check others so that nothing one possessed would be stolen—that jealousy was base, and yet nothing was more vivid.
Of course, that very emotion often forced her into cooperation or conflict with Pandemonium over talent… but good things remained good. Only because there had been humans so nakedly honest about their desires had the two of them risen this far.
“As I thought.”
So Leviathan graciously provided an answer. A very small kindness. The human’s face relaxed into subtle relief.
“Anxious? Surely not.”
The naked desire floating in both eyes belonged to one who sought to become a 72 Demon Knight by the choice of a Great Demon. That alone would not have concerned her, but such desire usually came paired with envy toward whoever had seized power first.
“An honor.”
She felt the urge to stoke that jealousy further, yet she had no desire to make a Knight of someone she did not even like simply to amuse herself with a single human. Nor did she care to sour relations with Pandemonium over something so trivial.
So she folded away her possessiveness and set down the last of the pages she had finished reading.
Whoosh.
The brazier that had been warming the air in the center of the desk licked out and swallowed the papers whole.
True to a merchant house founded by the underlings of Avarice, the place was full of curious and amusing things.
Fortunately—or so I supposed—by evening Dev returned with a composed face. He had managed to collect himself well enough to apologize to the Archmage. The Archmage, for his part, insisted that he himself had been more at fault and tried to reverse the apology.
Evening passed into night, and night into the next sunrise. We set out for Ednium. The route would take us back through White Cat Ridge, where we had spent the night before last.
“The frequency of beast attacks seems to have increased.”
As the Archmage said, the predators definitely felt more numerous. Even thinking back to that night confirmed it. Aside from the final swarming rush, the assaults had been lighter then.
“…That’s strange, isn’t it? They ought to come out more at night, not during the day. It doesn’t make sense.”
“They appeared less at night than this?”
“Yes.”
“Peculiar.”
Every event had a cause. Especially when the event belonged to nature rather than man. Rain clouds formed because water evaporated under solar heat and became vapor; wind blew because of convection.
“It may be connected to the sudden pack attack you received.”
“Could a demon be controlling them from behind the scenes?”
“Not impossible.”
The Archmage summoned chains with a flick of his fingers and bound several jackals. Behind him the horses were barely managing not to bolt.
“Or there may be some other problem entirely.”
“That, may—”
Thwack!
“—be so!”
With the Archmage’s assist, the Inquisitor swung her mace like a bat. Instead of a baseball, an animal’s body went flying.
“Whoa! Why are you hitting them at me?!”
“Ah. My mistake.”
“‘My mistake’ is all you have to say?!”
Dev was not idle either. He nimbly dodged the jackal corpse that came sailing his way, then threw daggers to deal damage. His aim was solid; most of the blades sank into vital points such as the head.
Crunch!
“Hahaha! Die!”
“…The warrior lady is having a grand old time.”
“Uwahahahaha!!”
Well, it looked as though we were wrapping up. I avoided the tree Berserk had toppled and cut down the last jackal. I tried to keep the blood off myself for the sake of both style and hygiene—after killing enough of them, you start to get a feel for where to cut so the spray stays minimal—and ended up the only clean one in a thoroughly messy scene.
Not that the horses liked me any better for it. They had been tolerable at first, yet day by day they seemed to edge farther away from me alone. Creatures that wanted to make a meal of me were fine; the herbivores like horses just plain hated me, and that was a little sad. Was it the blood smell? It had to be the blood smell.
“Hoo. Is it over?”
“Mm! Perfect warm-up before a meal!”
“You just assume we’re eating, don’t you.”
“The sun is overhead. Does that not mean it is time for lunch?”
“Hm? Ah, already noon?”
“Indeed. Mealtime has certainly arrived. Still, we should move the location. We cannot eat where blood has dried and stuck.”
“What’s wrong with blood? Berserk doesn’t understand.”
“…Because the smell may draw still more animals, which would be a nuisance. If we are attacked while eating, the food could be ruined. The horses would be in danger as well.”
“Ahh.”
Separately, if the Archmage seemed to be getting the hang of persuading Berserk, that was probably just my imagination. Then again, she was surprisingly easy to handle. Her thinking was so straightforward that a logical explanation usually brought her around. The problem was when she fixated on something—usually a fight—and then persuasion stopped working.
“I’ll go look for water, then.”
“Please do.”
At any rate, a rest was now all but confirmed. I flicked the blood from my blade and slid it into its scabbard. Click. A faint sound, and my ankle turned.
Ssssss.
As if taking its place, the fog that had refused to lift even at noon coiled white around my ankles. It was not thick enough to hide the hand in front of one’s face, yet it swallowed everything dozens of meters ahead.
“Ugh, this fog shows no sign of thinning.”
“I’m not pushing it away this time.”
“I wasn’t asking you to push it now. Save it for when we eat.”
The sort of fog that, if it appeared in a novel, a comic, or a game, would almost certainly be carrying poison or an enemy or some other unpleasant surprise.