The Archipelago (11)

The moment I heard the word Pope, my already-dizzy mind tangled itself into an even deeper knot.

Someday, I would have to face him. As long as I was Phoebe's friend—and the Apostle of the Chief God—I had no choice. The things the Pope was plotting had to be stopped, no matter what.

But it was still too early. Everything I had at my disposal right now was far too little to confront the Pope.

"Why is that senile old fart coming here of all places?"

"Bishop Johann says it's to deliver a personal warning to Rasha about the recent incident."

It was nonsense. The Pope had already struck a kind of contract with Rasha—an agreement to stay out of each other's way and each tend to their own business. That arrangement was old news, so what warning could he possibly be delivering?

Above all, the Pope was not a man capable of feeling rage over church members dying.

With so many eyes around, he might put on a show of fury, but beneath it he would be endlessly composed. Why would a man like that bother to revoke a contract he himself had made?

Rasha was an excuse. He had a different reason for coming here.

"Auntie."

"I am in disguise right now."

"You already blocked the sound, so quit being hysterical. That's why everyone runs away when they see you, you know."

"Why are you bringing that up now?"

"Forget it. While I was clearing that pathetic dungeon, did any of that creepy Chief God's stench leak outside?"

"Oh. You didn't know? It's been trickling out little by little ever since you went inside."

...Damn it. Useless Chief God. Why does he keep pointlessly flaunting his existence like that? This is exactly why moths keep chasing your light.

Clamping my lips shut, I quietly shifted my gaze to check on my friends. The same people who had been pointing out each other's faults only moments ago were now, somehow, working together to draft a strategy for the next dungeon.

The timing was bad. If I'd had just a few more days, I could have resolved everything on this archipelago.

Not even days, really. If I moved efficiently, two more days would have been enough to wrap up everything I wanted and pull out.

But I couldn't be certain what kind of outcome that lingering attachment might bring.

"Auntie. Where's that useless bishop?"

"Standing by at the lodging."

Bishop Johann, waiting at the lodging, had not only cast off his clerical garments but had put together a modest disguise as well.

It wasn't a transformation as thorough as Karia's or Alsaetin's, but it didn't need to be. No one anywhere would ever imagine that straitlaced, hot-tempered Johann would don a disguise to hide his identity.

"I honestly don't know where His Holiness the Pope might be at the moment."

Johan answered my question while rubbing at his beard as though it bothered him.

"He departed the very moment the Saintess returned. He mentioned having several personal matters to attend to."

"Can a man at his level really just do that?"

When Karia, listening beside us, frowned, Johann laughed.

"Ordinarily, no. But in the current Church of the Main God, there is simply no one who can restrain His Holiness. If he wishes to do something, there is nothing he cannot do."

"...I don't think even the Tersha Empire wields that kind of absolute power."

"Haha. Well. In any case, back to the point—since we cannot know where the letter was sent, guessing his current location is impossible. He may already be somewhere nearby, for all we know."

Johan said it with a shrug, but he himself must have known the truth.

The Pope had not yet arrived on these islands. Any cleric of a certain caliber could hardly fail to sense his presence.

"Which is why we must leave this island as quickly as possible, my lady."

The reason he'd said something so exaggerated, despite that, was to warn me of the danger.

Johann was a cleric who, while acknowledging the Pope's usefulness, had long been convinced the Church could never walk the right path unless the man was brought down—and he believed I wasn't yet ready to meet him.

"The time is not yet right."

Same as me, then. Having heard his warning, I gave no answer and simply stared blankly into the empty air.

Or, to be precise, at the quest window floating there.

Frankly, I didn't want to leave this island yet.

I wanted to burn every single thing the useless Chief God had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arranged here into my memory, whatever else happened.

If I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠examined everything of Lucy's past, I thought I could understand the rage that had welled up inside her whenever her parents were insulted. I thought I could understand the itch I felt every time I looked at Benedict. Above all, I would finally learn what the useless Chief God had gone through all this trouble on the archipelago for.

If I had been here alone, I would gladly have gambled on the danger.

I might even have enjoyed it—a proper speedrun. If this had been behind a monitor, I'd have cheered it on as a brand-new event.

But I was not alone, and I wasn't the only person who'd be in trouble if I tangled with the Pope over this.

As I glared silently at the quest window, I made up my mind to use the reward I had been hoarding for dear life all this time.

Originally, I'd planned not to use it unless I was in genuine mortal danger. But still—

- Ding.

The moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I heard the crisp chime, my thoughts cut off.

After checking the message inside the blue window over and over, I couldn't hold back the laughter that came bubbling out.

Come back and do this quest whenever you feel like it? So your arrangements won't disappear, and it's fine if I step away for a while, is that it?

I didn't know exactly what you wanted—but showing me Lucy's past must matter a great deal to you.

Even under the puzzled stares of Johann and Karia, I kept giggling for a long while before finally wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes and standing up.

"Well, that worked out nicely. I've been sick of this moldy backwater for ages anyway."

I'd back off for now, but it wouldn't take long to return.

Second-year students at the Academy earned the right to raid outside dungeons—and the obligation to post results in several of them.

"Fortunately, I'll be gone before this place's revolting stench rubs off on me."

When I came back here, I would dig through every last scrap of Lucy's past. Whatever waited at the end of it, I would find out, one way or another.

"...That's so unfair! I was just about to win our bet!"

"For once, the airhead is right! Lucy Aln! You're running because you're losing!"

"Your Highness?! Why are you suddenly attacking me too?!"

"Quiet! Is now really the time to worry about that?!"

When I announced we were returning to the kingdom, Joy and Arthur took it dead seriously. They must have figured there was a way to win the bet if we just stayed a little longer, so why go home now?

To anyone who didn't know the details, I supposed it looked like I was fleeing because I was about to lose.

"Absolutely opposed. We've done nothing but lose this whole time."

But why was Frey joining in? Those two were understandably furious—they were already wearing bunny headbands and fake whiskers, and now tails too—but Frey hadn't lost anything.

When I stared at her without a word, Frey quietly shut her mouth. Apparently she'd just been riding the mood and blurting out whatever came to mind.

"Anyway, I'm not going back! If you want to leave, go alone!"

"Me too! Even if I have to hire some other adventurer, I will clear the dungeons here!"

"Why would you need to?"

"Huh? Well, Lady Kent will be joining us too, won't she?"

"Why would I? I'm going back with Lucy."

"Whaaat?!"

"Frey Kent! You would betray us!"

Watching the three of them squabble and yowl at each other, I snorted and snapped my fingers. At that, the Aln knights who had been guarding our surroundings—three of them—surrounded two people. Specifically, the two who weren't cooperating with me, Frey excluded.

"My lady?"

"Lucy Aln. What is the meaning of this?"

"Two stupid, useless losers. Do I look like someone who'd waste her ears on other people's moronic nonsense?"

Under normal circumstances I'd have heard them out, but not today. If the Pope landed on the archipelago along with Rasha, there was no telling what would happen. And I had no intention of abandoning these two—people who had, somewhere along the way, become precious to me—in that deathtrap.

"Insolence! I am Arthur Soladin, Third Prince of the Kingdom of Soladin! How dare the Margrave's knights lay hands on me!"

Arthur, catching on to what I intended, waved his royal authority around—but that was a poor move. The Aln Knight Order was loyal to the kingdom, certainly, but they were people of Aln first and foremost.

"Your Highness. Why not give up? You know perfectly well what monsters these people are."

"Joy! This is exactly why you never fix your airheadedness! This is when you fight all the harder!"

"And you're not doing anything about it either, Your Highness!"

Watching the two of them bicker—prince and ducal heiress titles cast aside, reduced to bickering childhood friends—I caught Carl's helpless what-do-I-do look and just shrugged.

"I had no idea the Pitiful Prince loved training that much. Very well. I'll take very~ special care of you."

"...What nonsense are you spouting now, Lucy Aln?"

"I'll let you play with the Aln idiots until the useless Academy reopens. Just like the Pitiful Prince always wanted."

At my words, Arthur's face froze. Apparently the training he'd received from the Aln Knight Order had been an absolute delight. And since he was delighted, I was delighted too.

"Your Highness, this is why I told you not to resist. Now you've gone and made a fuss for nothing."

"Airhead. Obviously you're coming too."

"...What? What do you—no! I mean! I have duties I must attend to at House Patran!"

"You really are hopeless at everything except magic, aren't you? Did you forget what I told you in my sweetest voice? I said I'd already gotten permission from your sloppy excuse of a duke?"

"Nooooo!"

Seeing Joy sunk in the exact same despair right beside Arthur, I forgot all about keeping up appearances and let out a laugh straight from the heart. I couldn't help it—there was simply no other option.

Two days after Lucy's party departed aboard the Artea family's sailboat, Rasha surfaced from the water and spat out the seawater that had somehow found its way into her mouth.

Damn it. I never imagined not a single one of those sailors would take me aboard. Sure, I cause a lot of trouble, but it's not like wrecking things here on the archipelago would hurt any of them.

Rasha had just grumbled her way through shrugging off her upper garments, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was wringing the water from them, when an old man's voice brushed past her ear. Without so much as turning her head, she answered in a voice thick with hostility.

"Old fart who's about to kick the bucket. What do you want."

"I've come to warn you about what you've done."

"Bullshit. If I hadn't done it, you would have."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

At the old man's slick, evasive tone, Rasha let out a sigh. On official occasions he put on that insufferably dignified front, so why was he always like this whenever they met in private?

"So what is it."

"I'd like you to help me clear a dungeon."

"No. Having you next to me feels like my lifespan is being shaved off in real time."

"You seem to be under a misunderstanding. You have no choice in the matter."

"...Fuck. Seriously."

Rip! Perhaps because her fury had soaked all the way into her hands, the garment she'd been gingerly handling tore clean in half.

Rasha stared blankly at it for a moment, then hurled the ruined rags at the old man. He, of course, dodged them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.