Reputation Quest (1)
Forsell took the news that I had stumbled into the Trial of Ruel and received his weapon surprisingly well.
I'd thought it was far too large a thing to dismiss as mere chance, but he said nothing of the sort.
"I suspected that statue wasn't standing there for nothing, but to think it was waiting for its master all along."
That was all he offered — a nod, wearing the expression of a man who had just solved a puzzle for himself.
It seemed he was operating under some significant misconception, but I didn't bother correcting him.
Piling on excuses would only invite questions; better to be the victim of a misunderstanding than to unravel it.
It was a relief to meet Forsell in one piece, honestly.
If he'd seen me in the wretched state I was in at the end of that trial, what kind of reaction would he have had? I can't say for certain, but I doubt it would have been a gentle one.
Nothing much happened after that. Just as I'd planned on the first day, my days fell into a rhythm of training with the knights, then diving into dungeons — over and over. It was grueling, no question about it, but maybe because I'd already come face to face with death, I found I could endure it.
And so a day passed, then two, and on the final day of the knights' training regimen, I reached level 10.
All that suffering to win Ruel's mace had clearly been worth it. Without it, I'd probably still be stuck at level 7 or 8.
That said, beyond the level-up itself, the other effects were hard to feel.
Things like faster mace proficiency growth, or a bonus applied to skills. You might say it was obvious I couldn't check them since I can't see my status window — but not being able to feel them at all is strange, isn't it? Had something changed now that this world was reality?
Well. Even if those passive bonuses were gone, it wouldn't be much of a problem. I could just make up for them another way. As long as the experience gain boost was there, that was enough for me.
Having achieved my goal, I finished the last dungeon run and came outside, only for Forsell to tell me I'd worked hard and should take a break.
Those are not words Forsell was ever meant to say.
Who is this? Are you some other entity wearing Forsell's shape? Honestly! Where have you hidden our Forsell?!
When I pressed him with my interrogation, Forsell panicked and waved his hands.
"My lady, I am simply offering you a rest."
'Cut the crap! You're the last person on earth who'd tell me to rest!'
"Foolish Forsell. Do I look like an idiot who'd swallow that? Where do you get off spouting nonsense at a noble lady?"
Really? Really? It hasn't been that long since we met, but I know what kind of man you are. You're the kind who isn't satisfied until he's run a person into the ground — until they collapse at their very limit! Whatever you're scheming, you'd best come clean.
And above all! I don't want to go to Evans! If I go into the village, the residents will all tremble the moment they lay eyes on me, and I have zero interest in watching that!
"Even if you order me to speak honestly—"
'I am ordering you. Right now.'
"I am ordering you. Answer."
"I'm telling you, it's the truth. My lady?!"
This guy. The sheer audacity. How dare you lie to the daughter of a Count! Must I rack you before you'll put the truth in your mouth?
But would he even scream if I racked him? Honestly, the wooden plank wedged between Forsell's thighs would probably start screaming first.
"My lady, the Commander only meant to grant us a comfortable rest."
"It's true. Everyone takes it easy on the last day. You never know what might happen on the road home, after all."
"Wouldn't it be better for you to have a nice bath and sleep in a proper bed, my lady?"
Unable to watch me interrogate Forsell any longer, the other knights came over to plead that he was telling the truth.
No, you fools. I'm doing this to save you. Don't you understand this lady's deep and gracious intentions? I told you — if I come along, I'll just end up running you all ragged!
That was my thinking at first, and I brushed off the knights' protests. But as I listened to them all singing the same tune, my thinking changed.
If every one of them was saying this, did they genuinely want to rest? Was it because they couldn't relax properly with me around? Was I, right now, making a selfish scene without reading the room?
"My lady. Please rest in the village."
The moment Kal said those words to me, all such doubts turned to certainty.
Sorry, everyone. Apparently I was the one throwing a tantrum about not wanting to go to Evans. This time, I'll sacrifice myself for your comfort, so rest up, all of you. Do be careful not to get caught badmouthing me behind my back, though — I'll wreck you if you do.
Leaving the camp behind, I returned to the village with Kal and my maid in tow, and was forced to sigh yet again at the sight of the terrified townsfolk.
Every time I witness scenes like this, the day I enter the academy grows more frightening. It's not like I can't go — getting a game over isn't an option — but how much vilification awaits me there? If I end up going through anything like the illusions from the Trial of Endurance, I genuinely think I'll cry.
Staring at this panorama any longer would only weigh on my heart, so off to the inn, quick and quiet.
I hadn't slept properly in ages from being run ragged under Forsell, so today, I'd spend the entire day lying in bed. Time to be a lazy noble lady for the first time in a while.
Better for everyone if I rested in my room than if I wandered about uselessly and plunged the whole village into terror, no?
"Lady Lucy, Count's daughter!"
Just as I was entertaining such thoughts, someone called my name and came running toward me.
The woman's face seemed familiar from somewhere. Where had I seen her... Ah. She was the one I'd bought the potion for.
She never reached me.
Before she could, Kal drew his sword and leveled it at her.
Any ordinary person would have stopped dead before that murderous blade. This woman was different. As if to say go ahead, stab me, she actually moved toward the sword.
The instant I saw her face — brimming with killing intent — I realized she wasn't mad at all.
Her trembling eyes and the tears streaming down her cheeks told me she felt fear. She knew all about my infamous reputation. She was under no illusion that the sword before her could cut her down.
And still, she was trying to reach me.
That much was enough to spark my curiosity. What could drive a person to gamble her own life like this?
Watching her provocative advance, Kal drew his mouth into a hard line and tightened his grip on the hilt.
It was obvious blood would be shed at this rate, so I stepped in front of him and blocked his path.
"My lady."
'Kal. I'll handle this myself.'
"Dolt. Don't do things I didn't order."
"...My apologies."
The moment Kal lowered his sword, the woman rushed up to me, dropped to her knees on the ground, and began praising me for how merciful and kind I was.
But that wasn't what I wanted to hear. I cut her off and put the question to her.
'Did you have business with me?'
"Peasant dolt. Speak if you have words for me."
"Forgive the intrusion, but..."
'Get to the point.'
"Does it look like I have all day? Just say it."
"I'm so sorry, my lady! It's that—"
She hadn't approached me for any selfish desire of her own. The reason she'd risked her life to come to me was for her child, and her child alone.
Her son had been frail from birth, she said. He'd suffered one minor illness after another, and playing outside with the other children had been beyond imagining. Still, it hadn't threatened his life. He'd simply been a little weaker than the rest.
But recently, she said, his condition had deteriorated sharply. From one day onward, he could no longer even walk properly. He couldn't eat or drink anything. And for the past two days, he hadn't opened his eyes at all.
"If this goes on, my son will surely die! My lady! Please, save my son!"
Banging her forehead against the ground as she cried out, she was the very picture of the mother I had imagined.
Maybe that was why.
I wanted to help her.
And it wasn't as though I lacked the means to do it.
What I'd gained from clearing the Trial of Ruel hadn't been Ruel's Mace alone. Alongside it had come a skill called Mercy of Armadi.
Its effect was simple: the removal of status ailments and the restoration of health. In essence, it let me perform functions that would normally require a healer, all on my own.
It had been a genuinely useful skill in the game, too. I'd tried it a few times even while running dungeons with Forsell, and the results weren't half bad.
Whether it was my lacking proficiency or my small mana pool, I couldn't use it often, though. Two casts a day at most was my limit.
I'd used it once in the dungeon on the way back, so I still had one use remaining. Which meant I could heal the boy.
Assuming, of course, that Mercy of Armadi actually worked on him.
'Take me to him.'
"Peasant dolt. Lead the way."
At my words, the woman bowed her head to the ground again and again in thanks.
Ugh. This is really awkward. What am I supposed to do if Mercy of Armadi doesn't work?
The place to which the woman led us was a house built of old wooden planks. Rot had eaten into it here and there like insect damage, and it looked ready to collapse at any moment.
A sickly little child lived in a place like this, one that couldn't even keep out the winter wind?
"Forgive me for receiving you in such a shabby place."
The woman bowed her head as though bringing me to this spot were a crime. I said nothing in response — whatever I said would get translated into mesugaki-speak and come out wrong anyway.
Instead, I opened the door and went inside.
On a covering closer to a thin cloth than a proper blanket lay a single child. The small boy was breathing in shallow, labored gasps, much like Lucy's mother in the dream I'd had not long ago.
Despite knowing nothing about medicine, the moment I saw him, I understood. Left alone, this boy would not live long.
"My lady. Can my child truly be made well?"
'Of course.'
"Like I couldn't save one sorry little brat."
I answered with perfect confidence and approached the boy.
Using Mercy of Armadi was simple. Lay a hand on him and offer a prayer — that was all. Ask the supposed Creator God for healing, and the goddess would burn my mana to work a miracle.
The moment the skill activated, the boy's expression eased noticeably. Color returned to his face, his breathing steadied — he looked for all the world like his symptoms were improving. I heard gasps of awe behind me, so it must have looked similar to the others as well.
But I alone knew the truth. This was nothing more than his strength recovering, making it appear as though he'd improved. The illness actually tormenting this boy had not been cured at all.
How do I know? Because a message window was floating right in front of me.
[Insufficient proficiency. Failed to cure the curse.]
Aside from the message that hounded me awake every morning, this was the first time I'd ever seen a different one — and it was not welcome in the slightest. Because it was announcing that I had failed.
I had seen this message in the game before. It appears when the rank of the target afflicted with a status ailment exceeds my skill's proficiency.
To put it simply: right now, I could cure a venomous snake's bite, but the poison of a basilisk — a beast of legend — was beyond my proficiency to heal.
The same applied here. If this curse had come from some middling creature, I could have dispelled it. But the rank of the being who placed this curse was too high, and so it could not be cured.
A poor boy born in a tiny village, carrying a curse that not even Mercy of Armadi could touch? That is not a normal situation.
Do you think, in all my time playing Soul Academy, I saw one or two cursed people? Did I go around curing them one by one? Curses like this are never, ever common.
It was certain. This was the trigger for one of the hidden quests I knew.
One of the longest side quests in Soul Academy. Whatever else might elude me, when it came to reputation grinding, no quest worked as flawlessly as this one.
The Curse of Agra.