Prep for the Conquest (2)
Remembering how comfortable the Duke Patran's teleportation had felt last time, I'd hoped this trip would go just as smoothly. Of course, I knew perfectly well that the reason I hadn't gotten motion sick back then was the Duke's exceptional magical skill — but hey, you never know, right? Now that I was incomparably stronger than I'd been in the past, maybe I could tough out the nausea!
So, buoyed by optimism, I reinforced my body with divinity and stepped into the teleportation circle — where I was promptly reminded of exactly how weak I still was. It wasn't to the point where I couldn't move at all, but that was it. No better, no worse. As I struggled to keep my churning stomach down, the Face-Connoisseur Fox perched on my head let out an awkward little laugh.
“You could just accept my help, you know.”
The moment the little pest spread something out around me, my stomach settled. Fine — I'll admit the face-obsessed fox is useful at times like this. The problem is that this is the only time it's useful.
Last night, having noticed that the fox could communicate with Grandpa, I'd come up with a genuinely brilliant idea: use the fox as an intermediary so I could talk to people normally! I'd relay my words to Grandpa properly, and then Grandpa would pass them along through the fox so the message reached everyone else as intended. I'd been positively giddy at the thought of finally escaping the censorship imposed by the Mesugaki skill — but of course, my brilliant idea had crashed and burned, exactly as you'd expect.
“I'm sorry, my girl. It seems your voice does not carry through.”
Like that pathetic perverted Chief God would ever allow anything that stopped him from tormenting me! To be honest, I'd predicted this outcome the moment the idea formed in my head, so I wasn't particularly disappointed. You go through this kind of thing once or twice, you learn.
Ha. Seriously, why is this cheap excuse for a god only ever so thorough about the worst possible things?! If he'd channel even a fraction of that thoroughness into actually helping me, would it kill him?!
“My lady. Are you certain you won't reconsider coming with Bishop Johann?”
I was grumbling away, resentment toward the useless Chief God bubbling up, when Kahl posed the question. When I'd mentioned earlier that I was going to see Isabelle, Johann had insisted on coming along, saying it would make getting inside much easier. I'd turned him down — it wasn't going to be a long visit, and why drag a bishop along just to meet a man I'd have no further business with after negotiating over the stone tablet? At the time I'd taken it as simple kindness, but seeing Kahl ask again with that expression on his face, there must have been a reason after all.
...Wait. Did I do something at the Artea estate? No way. Surely not?
Not long after we left the teleportation circle, the Artea family mansion came into view — and the moment I laid eyes on it, a gasp escaped me before I could stop it. The Artea estate was more beautiful than any building I had ever seen.
In the game, when characters described this place, they used words like a recreation of the Holy Land itself — as if a god had once dwelled there, bestowing blessings upon the world. Listening through my monitor back then, I'd dismissed the description as overwrought. The mansion's design was certainly lovely, but set against other extravagant estates, it was hardly exceptional.
Not anymore. Now that I stood inside this world and beheld it with my own two eyes, I could only be overwhelmed. It wasn't especially massive in scale. It wasn't so opulent that you couldn't tear your gaze away. It was simply sacred. You could have told me a god had lingered there until quite recently and departed only days ago, and I would have believed you.
So this is what it feels like to be humbled by something built by human hands.
“Hoh. Just how much money does it take to throw up a building like this?”
...Grandpa. You see something like THAT and your first thought is money?! No! People are having a moving spiritual experience here — don't ruin the moment! Even I, who call the Chief God a useless hack, can feel reverence welling up inside me, and YOU'RE supposed to be one of His servants! Look! Even the face-obsessed fox is gazing at it quietly and respectfully!
Grandpa has less emotional depth than that perverted fox. Honestly.
“Meh. Gilded with coin, but nothing at its core has changed. Not worth a second glance.”
...Seriously, this is why emotionally withered old men are a problem! Everything gets reduced to numbers with you! You're supposed to appreciate things with your heart, like me! Like ME!
“Hold there a moment, please.”
While I pitied my world-weary Grandpa and the degenerate fox and started toward the mansion, I could see the guards stirring with unease. The way they all recoiled only strengthened my hypothesis that the Lucy of the past had caused trouble here. Eventually, the youngest of them stepped forward.
“Pardon me, my lady of House Alrn. Might I ask what business brings you to this mansion?”
I've come to see the master of the house.
“I'm here to meet the money-crazed zealot.”
Was Isabelle a zealot? I didn't think it was far off the mark, but apparently the guard disagreed. His face twisted at the insult to his master, and he asked again.
“...Do you mean Count Artea?”
Yes.
“You heard me the first time, so why ask? Is there a problem?”
He was terrible at managing his expressions. Well, it wasn't just an ordinary insult — it was an insult charged with the full provocation potency of the Mesugaki skill. The real anomaly would be him not getting heated.
“Did you happen to arrange an appointment in advance?”
No, nothing like that.
“I'm the one granting the meeting — why would I need an appointment? I don't follow.”
“...One moment, please.”
The guard practically fled toward the mansion the instant the words left his mouth.
Hey. Hey, wait. I have something to give you?! I felt a pang of awkwardness watching his retreating back, but I couldn't bring myself to raise my voice. The guards lingering nearby were all eyeing me with open hostility — no doubt they'd all heard me call Count Artea a money-crazed zealot. Mmm. I'd come here to negotiate; stirring up a fuss served no one. For now, I'd wait for the guard to return. If they told me I couldn't meet him, I'd simply pull out the seal and show it.
“My apologies, my lady.”
The guard returned before long and delivered his apology: Count Artea was buried in official duties and feared he wouldn't be able to spare the time to see me. Even someone with my negligible political instincts could read the meaning threaded through those words. Translated: I have no time to waste on the likes of you, so scurry off quietly.
Given Lucy's infamous reputation, it was probably the natural outcome. So, to the bowing guard, I produced the seal I'd received from Johann and held it up.
It's not as if I just showed up uninvited...
“The stuffy old bishop sent me. Told me to meet the zealot here, have a little chat, and come back. Even a blockhead like you should be able to verify that much, right?”
Receiving the seal, the guard looked visibly troubled. Honestly, wouldn't it be simplest to just take it inside and confirm whether it was genuine? I was thinking exactly that when another man emerged from among the guards posted at the gate. Despite being well into middle age, he showed not a trace of infirmity. He grabbed the young guard by the shoulder, shoved him aside, planted himself in front of me, and declared without preamble:
“We would ask that you not insult us with such an obvious forgery.”
I'm sorry, what?
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
“It is a well-known fact that Bishop Johann endured great hardship on the young lady's account. Surely you can see that a man of his station would never entrust his seal to someone like you.”
Ah. So he's saying Johann would never hand something like this to a person like me. I suppose I could see why he'd think so. Roughly aware of my own reputation as I was, I understood his suspicion perfectly. So I asked them to take it inside and verify its authenticity — but the guard only shook his head.
“There is no need to verify anything. I do not know what greed has seized you this time that you seek an audience with Count Artea, but I must ask that you end this disturbance and return home.”
This time, huh. The fact that that phrase slipped out pretty much confirmed that the old Lucy had pulled some kind of stunt on Count Artea before. Yikes. Seriously, Lucy, is there a single place you haven't wrecked?! Well, this is the girl who told the king he smelled like livestock, so what would she have been afraid of?
...Haaa. So that's why Johann had offered to come along. If I'd understood the situation, I'd have brought him without complaint. Nothing for it, then — go back to the territory, and come again—
“I would also ask that you consider how such conduct damages Sir Benedict's honor.”
—that was the plan, right up until the old guard added one more remark and changed my mind. However politely that was phrased, strip away the courtesies and it amounted to: Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Your father would be mortified to see you acting like this.
Insults were the one thing I understood inside and out. That sort of talk was all I heard, over and over, during my first semester at Soul Academy.
Hmm. That stung a little.
What to do? Turning tail after being insulted to my face wasn't exactly my style.
Ah. Great idea. I'd deliberately cause a scene. A subordinate's misconduct is the administrator's responsibility! I'd goad this man into causing an incident — leaving Isabelle owing me a favor!
I had no idea how Isabelle currently regarded me, but there was no way he could refuse to formally welcome a guest his own subordinate had struck first. Besides, Kahl and the fox were both right beside me, so there was no chance of my actually getting hurt.
Here's what I'm going to do — thoughts?
I laid out my freshly hatched plan for Grandpa.
“My girl, you must not.”
There it is. Grandpa the voice of restraint, as always.
Sorry, Grandpa — that wasn't a request for your opinion, it was a notification. I fully intend to go through with—
“Make it grander. You'd stop at something this small?”
...You're not holding me back, you're egging me on?!
The sheer unexpectedness of it wrenched a laugh out of me. Got it, Grandpa. Taking your advice — I'll make it a proper spectacle.
When I finally recovered from my laughter and lifted my head, the old guard was watching me with worried eyes. Presumably bracing himself for whatever I might do next. Ha. Well, whose fault is it that you picked this fight first?
I flashed him a sweet smile — and stomped down hard on his foot.
“Hey there♡ Hey there♡ Don't you think what you're doing right now counts as insulting this mansion's crazy bitch?♡”
“...I beg your pardon? What did you just—”
“Oh, right — rock for brains, so it doesn't occur to you?♡ Why is a dunce like this guarding the main gate, hmm?♡ Did they stick a statue of the useless Chief God and his money-crazed zealots right out front?♡”
The old guard's face flushed crimson. His features contorted with a fury so deep he could barely contain it. Going by experience, one more little push and he'd swing for my face.
So naturally — I pushed harder.
“Angry?♡ Is the big scary man upset because a wittle girl dissed his teeerrrible master?♡ Pfff♡ Puhahaha♡”
“...”
“But then again, whoever hired a moron like you as a guard♡ It's like they dumped a pile of garbage right at the entrance — how could anyone not look down on it?♡”
“...My lady.”
“Looking at your face makes me smell garbage, so be a dear and scurry off somewhere?♡ Oh wait, rock for brains — maybe you can't understand words this complicated?♡ How troublesome~♡ I don't speak Stone, you see♡ Unless you happen to have an interpreter...”
In the end, the old guard's composure snapped, and he swung his fist. A wild, reckless punch thrown by a man who could no longer swallow his rage.
The guard's physical abilities were undoubtedly impressive, but a fist launched from such a sloppy stance had its limits. There was no need to draw my shield for something like this. Reading the trajectory and moving my hand to catch the punch was more than enough.
“Rock for brains, but your punches are made of cotton♡ How fascinating♡”
Now then. Wouldn't you be a darling and make this scene just a little bit bigger?
Big enough that your master won't be able to look the other way without bowing his head first.