The Name Yona
Simon had known that his mother suffered from a chronic illness.
Ever since he was a child, Anna would fall ill a few days out of every year, wracked by some inexplicable sickness, only to rise again after several days as healthy as if nothing had ever happened.
But the Anna lying in bed right now, looking so worn and haggard, seemed worse than he had ever seen her.
Richard had evidently taken precautions — a magic circle drawn from mana had been laid out on the floor directly beneath the bed where Anna rested.
"Come with me, Simon."
While she slept, Richard and Simon stepped outside. The two of them climbed a small hill not far from the house.
"Father, what's happened to Mother?"
After a few steps, Simon could hold it in no longer and asked. Richard answered in a calm voice.
"It's her usual ailment. However, a small problem has come up."
The medicine that eased Anna's condition could only be made in the Holy Federation.
But ever since the Nephthys incident, Efnel had imposed its highest level of alert across every region of the Holy Federation. Every route leaving the Federation was under strict control.
"The broker who delivered her medicine once a year contacted us to say it would be difficult this year."
Simon's face went blank. He had never imagined that something that happened at Kizen could reach all the way out here, to Leshill, and affect his parents.
"Don't worry too much. I've already taken measures."
"Measures?"
Richard went on, gazing up at the sky.
"Word reached a friend of your mother's. She has obtained the medicine and decided to come to Leshill herself to deliver it. At the latest, she will arrive within the week."
"Ah…!"
Simon's face brightened.
"Th-that's a relief! She must be a truly wonderful person!"
"She is. Which is why I have a favor to ask of you."
Richard met Simon's eyes as he continued.
"I want you to go out and meet her. These are troubled times, and since she is from Efnel, she'll likely be feeling threatened for her own safety. I'd like you to serve as her bodyguard."
Simon nodded vigorously.
"Yes! Leave it to me."
The medicine would arrive within the week.
Anna would be all right.
Having heard the whole story, the heavy air between father and son eased a little. Richard asked about Simon's life at Kizen, and Simon poured out everything as if he'd been waiting for the chance.
The friends he'd made at Kizen, the professors, the classes and the practical assessments, and even the necromantic arts he'd learned along the way.
As he talked, Simon realized it all over again. Just how precious and happy his days at Kizen had been. Richard, too, wore a faint smile as he listened.
"So it's still the same over there."
There was a deep, lingering resonance in Richard's voice as he said it.
"Are you seeing any girls these days?"
"…!"
Caught completely off guard by the sudden ambush of a question, Simon flushed in flustered confusion.
"N-no, I'm not."
"Good."
Richard looked rather pleased with himself as he ran his hand over Simon's hair.
"You are now in the most important period of your life, the time when you chart your own future. Healthy friendships are fine, but youthful passions are terribly hard to rein in. Be very careful about keeping company with girls going forward."
"…."
Simon stared hard into Richard's eyes. There was a strangely rebellious glint in them, and Richard was startled.
Had Simon ever looked at him with that expression before?
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
Simon turned his head away, pouting.
Richard was dumbfounded. His sweet, obedient son — rebelling?
Well, spending so much time with peers at school, a bit of adolescent defiance was apparently inevitable.
…No, wait. Does Father seriously not remember what he himself was like?
Simon, for his part, had already heard about Richard's school days from Nephthys and Pier. To think that a man who had lived so wildly it was hard to even speak of it was now lecturing him about romance — it felt more than a little unfair.
The son's first act of rebellion, and the father's words, wiped clean of his own past. Father and son crossed paths, each thinking in entirely different directions.
After the talk of Kizen wound down, they made their way down from the hill.
Simon steeled himself.
I have to say it here.
There was no point dragging out this time with his father any longer.
"Father."
"What is it, Simon?"
"There are two things I'd like to ask you."
Watching Simon stop mid-stride and put the question to him, Richard thought, it's come at last. His expression turned grave as well, and he nodded.
"Ask away."
"First — what is the nature of my mother's incurable illness? If the medicine can only be obtained from the Holy Federation, it must be something related to Priests, no?"
To Simon, Richard and Anna's past was buried deep in fog.
Asking about their history had been tacitly forbidden — a kind of unwritten rule — and Richard would only ever say that learning too much of it could put Simon himself in danger.
But the situation had changed now. Simon had become a Legion Commander who inherited Richard's Legion; he was a party directly involved.
What had the two of them been in the past? What was the true nature of his mother's illness, dismissed all this time as merely a chronic condition? Simon wanted to know.
"Yes, it's about time you knew."
Richard lifted his head.
"Your mother was once one of the Seven Saintesses of Efnel. In the Holy Federation, she was known as the Saintess of Miracles."
Simon's mouth fell open.
His mother had been a Saintess of Efnel — the same as that Flema!
He had guessed she might be an exceptional Priest, but the truth was beyond anything he had imagined. And Simon himself was the child born between a Legion Commander and a Saintess.
"As for Anna's illness — it is a new affliction born of the side effects of forcibly tearing the Essence of Saintess from her body."
"Tearing the Essence of Saintess… out?"
Simon had already heard about the Essence of Saintess from Nephthys.
"When a Saintess is killed, something called the Essence of Saintess spills out and drifts into the air! Before long, it will settle into someone in the Holy Federation with high compatibility, and a new Saintess will be born."
The power that turned a human into a Saintess — a demigod. To forcibly strip it away must have required an act of surgery on a colossal scale. And on top of that, Richard had disbanded his own Legion by his own will.
Simon had always thought of life here in Leshill as leisurely and peaceful, but in truth, the two of them had paid an enormous price for this very daily life.
"There is no way to cure the illness at present. Even so, thanks to the medicine made in the Holy Federation, she can continue to live."
"…."
Simon nodded, then looked at Richard.
"My second question is about you, Father."
"Then speak it."
"You were a Legion Commander."
Richard flinched, a startled look crossing his face.
"I heard you were famous even at Kizen. But there are records of a necromancer named Richard Polentia — strangely few of them."
Aside from Nephthys, none of the professors — nor even his friends — knew the name Richard Polentia. Simon had scoured the Kizen library for clues about his father, but he had come away with nothing.
"Who exactly are you, Father?"
"…."
Richard gave a faint smile.
"I used an alias."
As a child, Richard had resented and hated his father, Telon Polentia. The man had been a brilliant necromancer — and at the same time, the worst kind of father.
A sociopath and an alcoholic, he was habitually violent toward his son and his wife. For the sake of his research, he had even laid hands on Richard's own body.
Unable to endure the tyranny any longer, Richard had fled the house, casting away both the surname and the given name he had inherited from his father. I will choose my own name, he had declared, and made one himself.
Even after he caught Nephthys's eye and entered Kizen, and even when he acted as a Legion Commander, he had used that name.
"Yona."
Richard smiled.
"When you return to Kizen, search for that name."
Richard offered no further explanation. Since he had received his answer, Simon did not press.
"Father."
"Yes."
"The truth is… I've become a Legion Commander. I inherited your Legion."
Richard's two pupils wavered violently.
"…Did Nephthys tell you?"
"Yes."
"And Pier?"
"He's free from his seal, and doing well. Right now, we've gathered Erzsébet and Prince too."
Simon was curious what kind of reaction Richard would show.
Would he be pleased?
Or would he scold him?
But Richard showed neither reaction.
"I see."
That was all he said. Yet from those two words, a torrent of emotions could be felt.
"So long as you don't regret it, that is enough."
Richard asked no more about the Legion. Before either of them realized it, they had arrived back at the house.
The next morning.
Simon set out early and was racing through the mountains.
It really has been a while since I've been here.
As acting lord of Leshill, Simon had often crossed the mountains to oversee the territory's villages large and small. Without a core, he had crossed Leshill's rugged mountain ranges thousands of times over.
Now, as a necromancer, he could conquer the mountain terrain far faster. Sustaining his Internal Jet Black Operation, he ran with jet-black power treading beneath his feet, and the scenery around him swept past in a blur.
As he ran, Simon recalled what Richard had told him.
"Your guest will already have arrived nearby. But the Forked Forest Path is crawling with monsters and the terrain is treacherous — anyone coming for the first time is sure to get lost. Go yourself and guide her here."
A guest from the Holy Federation.
Simon felt a powerful curiosity stir within him.
At a time when the entire continent was in upheaval, this was someone who had come all the way to the Dark Alliance carrying medicine, purely for Anna's sake. Someone who had staked her life for Anna — he owed her a tremendous debt of gratitude.
And so Simon reached the Forked Forest Path.
The gateway that had to be passed to enter Leshill.
He concealed himself atop a tall, well-positioned tree and waited.
Nyam.
He popped into his mouth one of the rice balls Richard had made with his less-than-adequate culinary skills. He would have to wait until the guest arrived, and there was no telling how many days that might take.
Only the occasional caravan wagon passed by; the place was terribly quiet. Thinking of the long wait ahead, Simon pulled out his vacation homework from his subspace.
…Ah!
As he worked diligently at his assignments, he spotted a traveler entering the Forked Forest Path.
A white hooded robe draped over her from head to toe, a backpack slung over her back.
Beyond that, everything matched the description Richard had given almost exactly. Simon stowed his homework back in his subspace and dropped lightly down from the tree.
"A pleasure to meet you."
Simon bowed politely.
Startled by his sudden appearance, the traveler stopped dead in her tracks.
"Ah, I am—"
Whuuung!
A single gust of wind swept through.
The traveler's body vanished, and in an instant she launched a kick at Simon from his flank.
THUD!
Simon raised his right arm to block it by the narrowest of margins.
Leg and arm pressed together, trembling as if locked in a contest of strength. The leaves around them scattered into the sky and a cloud of dust rose from the ground.
Simon kept his smiling face and spoke.
"Hold on a moment. I think there's been some misunderstanding."
"You."
A woman's voice came from within the robe.
"You're a necromancer, aren't you?"