The Soul-Returning Incense

Not that I had told Lapis it wouldn't take all that long to say my farewells, but by the time the better part of two months had slipped away, I had finished eradicating the measles I'd spread through Bathory and was finally able to return to the duchy.

The results themselves weren't bad, though comparatively I'd gathered far less Faith within the Empire. Most of the citizenry hadn't come to devote themselves to the Order of Iris so much as to send their gratitude toward me as their prince. In the Allied Kingdoms, on the other hand, I'd reaped considerably more Faith — to them, the image of me as a saint had apparently been carved far deeper than that of me as a prince. And with the consonants and vowels I'd been short on substantially replenished by this circuit, the harvest could only be called a bumper crop.

...Aria, though. Has she really had no spare time at all?

Two whole months I'd been away, and when I returned to the duchy, she was nowhere to be seen. Which I supposed was proof of just how swamped things were at the Magic Tower...

More than that, though — when exactly am I going to be able to bring it up with Lapis?

Letting out a faint sigh, I shrugged on my outer coat and left the manor. Ever since the temple was built and the epidemic was quelled, my concern had been how to gather an even greater sum of Faith. Unlike ordinary armaments, relics of divine provenance — those whose transmitted legends were unmistakably distinct — consumed not Awe but Faith, and the amount required to complete their transmutation would surely be staggering as well. So for the time being I had made inquiries after a hospital that might form a sisterly affiliation with the Order of Iris, and summoned the physicians who showed interest in the proposal to the duchy. That was precisely where my steps were carrying me now.

The medical standard of this world — and the benefits it offered — had advanced somewhat further than the era would suggest, but that hardly meant one could enjoy those benefits with any ease. So I intended to establish a medical foundation for the poor, borrowing a concept or two from my previous life. This would be entirely my own venture. I hadn't won the backing of my father or his ministers, so the costs came out of my own purse — but as a means of raising my Faith, its effect would be certain.

The physicians won't exactly turn it down, either.

Besides attending to nobles and wealthy commoners — the middle and upper classes — as private patients, they'd be securing a separate, steady source of income. The people who gathered and prepared the medicinal herbs used in prescriptions would likewise regain some vitality in this sluggish economy.

For right now, I can't think of a better means than this.

As I walked along in thought, I rubbed at my eyes, my mind heavy with fatigue. For a body that had long since broken through its ordinary limits to feel fatigue this plainly in daily life was proof in itself that I'd been overworking myself.

Am I being too impatient?

The revival of the Demonic Tree was roughly two years out. Hasty as my methods had been, I had also thoroughly eliminated every factor that might needlessly stir friction between nations ahead of that revival. Once I stopped the Demonic Tree's true resurrection — no, the Demon King's army blooming forth from its full flowering — a genuine age of peace would follow.

But there's no room for rest.

There was no need to rush, but neither was there any reason to grow complacent. After long discussions with the summoned physicians, I returned to the manor, shed my coat, and seated myself once more in my study. There I rang the bell set beside the desk a couple of times, calling in Sebas, who waited outside.

"Yes. Your command, Your Highness."

「 Admit no one until six o'clock this evening. 」

"Understood."

Watching Sebas bow at the waist and close the door behind him, I quietly shut my eyes. It had barely been any time at all since my return, and buried in work as I was, I couldn't help feeling guilty toward Lapis for neglecting her. She, too, was working hard at her own station to support me, of course — but guilt toward a wife who couldn't even properly enjoy the atmosphere of newlywed life... surely that was only natural in a husband.

In any case, with a faint sigh I gradually steadied my breathing and sank into a deep sleep, my consciousness drifting sweetly away. And within the dream, I opened my eyes with perfect clarity and drew up the memories of my previous life that had long lain sunken beneath my unconscious. Truthfully, "memories" was less apt a word for it than "space." Even though I possessed vivid memories of my previous life, the reason they exerted no great influence on my present self was that they were kept separately, apart from my ego.

What manifested within the dream was a small library. Every book shelved there was itself a memory of my past life. And now, seeking to determine what I ought to transmute with the Awe and Faith I had gathered, I began to delve deep into those memories. Whenever the need arose, thin fragments of my past life would respond to me — but that was no more than the level of recalling events from a few years ago. If one had read a certain book once, one might remember its rough plot, but not everything recorded within its pages. This method, however, made that possible — so I set myself to reading with a most solemn expression.

Having committed to memory not only information on divine relics from my past life but also as much as I could on the armaments ranked beneath them, I half-opened my eyes and began slowly setting words to paper.

The order's a complete mess.

Sheets crowded with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠writing, poorly sorted — because I'd been scribbling down everything I could before forgetting what I'd just memorized. I set the divine relics aside for the moment and resolved to concern myself first with the armaments of lower rank. Honestly, I already had the Fangtian Huaji as a spear — I used it for its cost-efficiency, but as a main weapon it had plenty of flaws. So the armaments related to spears I intended to transmute numbered three in total.

The first was the spear wielded by the hero of the Ulster Cycle of Aisirland mythology — Cú Chulainn: Gáe Bolg. In my previous life, owing to various issues of romanization, the name most widely known to the public was generally "Gáe Bolg." As for the legends transmitted with this spear, the System would surely inform me before long.

Is that the only legend transmitted when it's transmuted?

Setting aside the information distorted in any number of ways by countless media in my previous life — so based purely on the information recorded in the literature and handed down, those were the only legends carried over by transmutation? A hint of disappointment lingered, but compared to the Fangtian Huaji it was still a decent showing, and so I chose to accept it.

I'll pay all the Awe required for Gáe Bolg's transmutation.

My Awe stood at 154,520. Four thousand draining away from it stirred hardly any feeling at all. The moment I manifested it and took it in hand, I found its shape differed considerably from ordinary spears — befitting an armament that could double as a throwing weapon. What struck me most were the sawtooth-like notches carved along it. But there was still far more to be done, so I released the transmutation and carried on with the next task. Honestly, Gáe Bolg's transmitted abilities had left me somewhat underwhelmed; all I could do was hope the remaining two spears would fill that void.

Oh...

Frankly speaking, the abilities these two spears would carry — the legends transmitted with them — were far more alluring than Gáe Bolg had been. Gáe Buide's power to seal healing, especially, seemed to hold the greatest value of all. Thinking it an unexpected windfall, I moved on to the next item.

Bows, hmm... Even if I transmuted one, I doubt I'd use it often.

There was no telling how many chances I'd have to snipe from long range, and even if such chances arose, it would be more effective to master certain perfection and hurl Gáe Buide combined with Reverse-Circulation Qi Technique. Moreover, as a class of hero's weapon, bows belonged to the non-mainstream — transmute them as I might, only a handful would be genuinely useful. So, rereading the document I'd written with fresh focus, I singled out two armaments instead.

Well, of course. Something that could never be broken was, at a glance, in the same league as the words "absolute" or "invincible." A perfectly understandable adjustment, I thought, and nodded. Where else would you find armor that could withstand not one, not two, but three fatal blows striking the body — everywhere but the head?

Ambiguous. I can't exactly call it bad, either... a decorative piece, really.

It forewarned of the moment of death I couldn't perceive for myself, but never pinpointed the precise cause.

But because of that, it carries no particular restrictions...

Judging that an acceptable trade, I paid the consonants, vowels, and Awe to add the two armaments to my transmutation list. Next, I'd hoped for an armament bearing a convenient means of travel, but unfortunately the information I'd extracted contained none. No — to be precise, there were some, but as a rule they were less efficient than simply riding Miho's shikigami.

What I had in mind was something closer to teleportation or spatial displacement.

Granted, I could achieve that myself through word combination, but with my vocabulary list capped at thirty slots, I had no wish to gnaw away at my own personal power by recording a means of transport. That was why I'd hoped to cover the gap with an armament — a pity, truly.

Phew... am I even doing this right?

Reading through the document crowded with characters until my vision blurred, I rubbed both eyes and sighed. Honestly, with so little information on the Demon King's army that would reappear with the Demonic Tree's revival, guessing what armaments would prove suitable was impossible. No doubt the same would hold true when transmuting the divine relics. The ideal, of course, would be to make solid intelligence on the Demon King itself my compass.

Ah—!

Then a sensation flashed through my mind, and I hurriedly read down the document. At the very end of it, what I found was the White Feather Fan! The feather fan, symbol of Zhuge Liang, Chancellor of Shu Han. According to the uncorrupted, pure legend, it was said to hold a mystical power to peer three hundred years into the past and three hundred years into the future.

The System once told me that matters ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tied to the thread of life are subject to powerful constraints of causality. In that case, even if the power to see the future can't be used, surely the power to look back on the past will be transmitted?

Delighted by the thought, I brought my hand down hard on the desk.

SLAM!

Come to think of it, three hundred years since the First Emperor's death have already passed...

Even if the fan's power to view the past were transmitted in full, I would never see the era in which the First Emperor had lived.

Did I really just get my hopes up for nothing?

Still, clutching my throbbing temples, I asked the System what abilities would be transmitted if I transmuted the White Feather Fan.

At that notice, I swept a hand through my hair and fell into brief deliberation over whether I ought to transmute the fan and keep it on hand, after all. The ability to read another person's past would surely prove useful for gathering information down the line. And since Awe Points were overflowing anyway, I transmuted the White Feather Fan and continued reading through the documents with a shadowed expression.

CRINKLE!

Partway through, I read a single passage and my eyes flew wide open.

Soul-Returning Incense.

An armament that, when burned, could summon the dead back for a limited span of time. It did not operate through any power of true resurrection, which meant it would transmute bearing a sufficiently complete transmitted record.

It only consumes a single point of Awe?

I thought that rather than being something to celebrate, there had to be a clear reason for it.

So that was the design — the reason the Awe consumed in transmuting it was absurdly small. Even so, the fact that I could summon the First Emperor through the incense and probe him for information — even if it meant throwing in every last point of Awe I currently possessed — was a tremendous gain.

"Transmute."

Without hesitation I paid the Awe, manifested the Soul-Returning Incense, and set the small censer upon the desk. Then it occurred to me that I had nothing with which to light it, and I wondered briefly whether I should call for the butler — but a notification appeared at once.

Reading the System's notification, I nodded and answered in my mind.

The one I shall summon is the First ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Emperor of the Bertian Empire — Caesar Paul Bertian.

Why does it demand so much Awe?

Put that way, there was no room for rebuttal. I nodded and paid the Awe. At once, a faint flame flared up from the incense tucked inside the censer before me, and a violet mist spread outward, swirling through the room. Then, beyond that violet haze, I beheld an elderly man begin to speak in a pleasant baritone voice.

"Who art thou?"

Seeing the aged man addressing me from within the violet mist, I swiftly organized the probing questions I'd prepared in my head and began to set them down in writing.