Seven Villages and a Question
The next morning.
*Hah! Hah!*
Simon was climbing a steep mountainside, curse bracelets and anklets strapped to both arms and both legs.
It was a state where even a single step was nearly impossible unless he pushed his Internal Jet-Black Operation to its absolute limit, but Simon stubbornly kept his legs moving.
There's no time to rest until I get to the Holy Federation!
He ran, circulating jet-black through his body, practicing turning his divinity on and off with one hand while reading through a book about the Holy Federation's culture—one he'd taken from Anna's room—with the other.
It was a scene that bordered on acrobatics. Even with his vision blocked by a book, he wove nimbly between the dense trees and crossed the mountain range without a hitch.
"By the way."
Simon turned his head.
"Why are you following me?"
Running beside him was Lethe, likewise with divinity surging through her legs. She made a sour face.
"I was bored, so I came along for a stroll. Got a problem with that?"
"Not a problem. It's just work, so I doubt it'll be fun."
"That's fine. Ignore me and do whatever you were doing."
Simon nodded and went back to his book, resuming his run. Lethe watched his training method with an expression of complete incomprehension.
Btant Village first.
Btant sat halfway up the mountain, a village farming massive slash-and-burn fields on the high terrain. The sight of houses lined up along the ridge looked precarious and beautiful all at once.
"Young master!"
"It's Simon!"
At the appearance of the heir, unseen in recent weeks, the villagers swarmed around him like gathering clouds.
"Ahem, ahem! Aigoo, young master."
An elderly man hobbled over and clasped Simon's hand with both of his wrinkled ones.
"This old man's watched you since you were this high, young master. To see you already a student of Kizen—truly, I don't have the words."
"Thank you, Nelton."
"The son of those two, after all! You're the pride of Leshill!"
"Please, madam, you flatter me. I'll work even harder to live up to expectations."
"Heyyy, Simon! How's it feel to be off at school on your own, huh? And are there lots of pretty girls at Kizen?"
"Uh, um. I guess there are. Anyway, Tom."
Simon answered and pointed behind him.
"Catherine's coming."
"Ah, hell!"
WAAAHAHAHA!
It was a small mountain village, but the atmosphere was wonderful. Simon called each villager by name in turn, connecting with every one of them.
"Master Peter. Anything giving you trouble lately?"
"It must be breeding season, but the goblins on the mountain are multiplying like mad. They keep ruining our fields."
"I'll thin out their numbers on my way back through."
Listening to the estate residents' concerns was part of Simon's job as well. He reported what needed reporting to his father Richard, and handled personally whatever he could handle himself.
Hmm.
Meanwhile, Lethe, watching from a distance behind them, was thinking that something about this was a little unexpected.
The villagers were treating that abominable necromancer, Simon, with obvious warmth.
Weren't they afraid of being turned into skeletons? She'd heard that these people smiled to your face while kidnapping innocent folks to make undead of them behind their backs.
I'll know more if I keep watching.
Whether they were deceived or not, she couldn't tell—but at the very least, the people of this village genuinely trusted and followed Simon.
"Kya-ha, Simon!"
Just then, Tom—who'd been dodging Catherine—threw an arm around Simon's neck. He was four years older than Simon, but the two had grown up like sworn brothers.
"...My neck, Tom."
"Dramatic little brat! No, wait, more importantly."
Tom lowered his voice, keeping Simon in a headlock, the corners of his mouth curling up.
"Who's the girl?"
A beautiful girl was wandering the village, winter-snow-white hair fluttering behind her. Skin white as jade, large eyes a pale gold, striding boldly along in a flowing brown robe.
"You brat, don't tell me you brought your girlfriend from Kizen home already? You dog, you move fast."
"...It's not like that."
"Then who is she?"
Simon racked his brain for a moment, then answered simply.
"A friend of my mom's. Her daughter."
"I see. Okay, then just tell me straight."
Tom jabbed a finger into Simon's chest, grinning.
"Is she your woman or not? Far be it from a mess like me to touch my sworn brother's girl."
"I told you, it's not like that."
"Okay, okay."
Only then did Tom release Simon's neck, clearing his throat with a hm-hm. And then he walked slowly toward Lethe.
"Hello there, miss."
"...?"
Lethe tilted her head, white hair swaying. At the sight, Tom—the country bumpkin—felt his face flush hot and red.
Whoa, she's insanely gorgeous. Never seen beauty like that in my life, except maybe Simon's mother!
Tom felt his heart hammering wildly as he spoke.
"Do you believe there's a god?"
"...!!"
At those words, Lethe's face went white.
Is this it? Is this guy onto me?
She turned her head and shot Simon a venomous glare. Simon, entirely oblivious, shook his head with a wronged expression.
Tom strode right up to her. Startled, Lethe found herself staggering backward without meaning to—only for a wall to meet her back before she knew it.
"I believe there is a god."
Tom crouched low, his expression utterly serious. Lethe raised her divinity, bracing for anything.
Then she saw that Tom's fingers held a single wildflower he had just snapped off.
"And her name is Yo-u."
"..."
*Whiiiish*—a cold breeze swept between the two of them.
I want to die.
Embarrassed on Tom's behalf for no reason at all, Simon turned away, his face burning red. Lethe, equally flustered, glanced back and forth between the wildflower and Tom's face.
"...Was that a pickup line just now?"
"Hahaha! Not necessarily, but if that's how you took it, who am I to argue. Hah!"
Lethe let out an inward sigh of relief, then thrust out two slender fingers.
?
What kind of answer was that? As Tom puzzled over it, Lethe waved her fingers back and forth and asked:
"Can you see these clearly? How many am I holding?"
"T-two."
"And this?"
"Three."
"And this one?"
"None. Didn't open any."
"Ah, so you can see fine. That's strange."
Lethe stepped closer with the dainty steps of a courtly lady. As the distance closed, a subtle fragrance washed over him, and Tom's knees nearly buckled.
With a grave expression, Lethe reached out and pried open Tom's right eye.
"Your eyes don't seem to be crooked."
"Wh-what?"
She withdrew her hand, folded her arms behind her back, and smiled.
"A fine, impressive man like you isn't a match for someone like me."
"Wh-what do you—"
"Why not focus more on that Catherine woman from before? She was far more beautiful than me~ Well then, bye!"
Lethe gave Tom a light kick and strolled over to Simon's side. When Simon stared at her, her expression hardened instantly.
"Wh-what are you gawking at? Want to die? Get back to work."
The honeyed voice of a moment ago was gone, replaced in an instant by her usual frost-breathing tone. Simon snickered.
"You really do have a bizarre personality."
"Like you're one to talk. Get to work already. I don't know my way around here, so I have to follow you."
"Got it."
Simon made one final stop at the village chief's house. He heard the chief's concerns, checked the ledgers, collected the taxes, and bowed deeply before stepping outside.
"We're running again. You okay with that?"
"Don't worry about me and just run."
Simon moved on to the next village.
And the next, and the next.
He didn't rest for a moment. Despite the four cursed bracelets and anklets, he showed no sign of strain, greeting everyone with a smile.
At last, having completed all seven villages Richard had named, Simon and Lethe returned to the annex where Richard was waiting.
"Welcome back, Simon."
Richard said. Lethe walked on ahead first, hands clasped behind her head.
"You too, Lethe—good work."
"...I didn't really do anything, so."
With that retort, Lethe headed into the inner room where Anna lay as always. Simon came before his father, breathing hard.
"I've finished every village you mentioned."
Simon reported everything—the requests and problems he'd heard directly from the residents. Richard nodded.
"I've already located the goblin camp myself. I'll purge them before the day's out, so don't worry."
Richard raised a jet-black magic circle in the air. Simon didn't notice it, but out in the yard beyond the house, a massive skeleton army was rising from the ground and marching up toward the mountains.
"Father, then—"
"Yes, a promise is a promise."
Richard grinned, showing his teeth.
"Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you Corpse Explosion, two hours a day."
"Ah! Thank you!"
Simon bowed his head. Just then, Lethe poked her head out from the inner room.
"Whatever. And you remember the white magic lesson later, right? Mission or no mission, if you come to my class whining about being tired, I'll stomp on your head."
"I would never. I'll prepare so I'm in top shape for your lesson, too."
Simon packed up his white magic books with a beaming smile and left to shower. Richard watched him with quiet pride.
Is there another child in this world who takes such joy in learning something new?
Perhaps it was far too soon to think it, but he couldn't help imagining Simon as a grown man.
Simon just might grow into the one who could untangle this continent's stiff, festering, long-unresolved problems.
* * *
"Hold it steady!"
As always, Simon and Lethe resumed their lessons on the hillside. The next discipline to learn was Protection Studies.
The art of erecting barriers and wards using divinity. Efnel even had a full defensive curriculum dedicated to it.
In particular, the guardian barrier Flema had raised during the Kizen terror attack had been so powerful that even Nephthys had paid a price to break through it.
All seven subjects at Kizen focus purely on offense. It's a real weakness, honestly.
So Simon thought, extending his arm. Divinity spread out from his palm and unfurled into a thin membrane. Lethe conjured a divinity-infused arrow charged with physical force and loosed it.
*BOOM! BOOM!*
Gh!
The harder the strikes came, the more his concentration wavered. Soon one side of the barrier collapsed, and raw scratches opened across Simon's body—but he rapidly surged his divinity and repaired the broken section.
"Finally usable. On to the next exercise."
And since he'd picked up wounds anyway, the lesson flowed straight into Healing Studies. Simon pressed his hand to the bleeding scratches on his skin.
Heal.
*Vwoom!*
White light welled up in his palm and the wounds began to close. Simon touched the newly healed skin with wonder, rubbing it back and forth.
"That's all for today's lesson."
The beginning and end of every lesson always followed the same ritual. Kneeling face to face, they recited the prayer of supplication, then offered up a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for another day. Then, hands resting over their navels, they bowed to one another in greeting.
When Simon raised his head, he gave a wry smile.
"Do we really have to keep doing this? It's not like I believe in the Goddess."
She exploded instantly, like dry tinder meeting flame.
"It's basic etiquette, you brat! If you're going to refuse even this, then give up on taking my lessons!"
"Okay, okay."
Bringing it up had accomplished nothing but a scolding.
As Simon gathered his things, he ran his eyes over the notebook where he'd organized everything he'd learned about white magic.
Blessing Studies: White magic that buffs and empowers oneself or others.
Divinity Kinetics: The most aggressive of the seven subjects. Full of offensive spells that channel physical force through white magic or cause it to detonate.
Healing Studies: The discipline of recovery—healing wounds, neutralizing poison, curing disease, and breaking curses.
Spirit of Light Studies: Efnel's answer to Spirit Magic. White magic that manipulates beings called 'Radiant Spirits' using not divinity but 'Radiance'. Unusable by any priest not bonded to a Spirit.
Protection Studies: Defensive magic specializing in barriers, wards, and shields.
Divine Beast Studies: The discipline of handling and wielding Divine Beasts, special sacred creatures.
Holy Martial Studies: Hand-to-hand techniques mastered by the combat priests known as 'Monks'.
"Forget the lessons for a second—can I ask you something personal?"
"...What."
"Choosing a patron, training a Divine Beast. Of Efnel's seven subjects, which one do you want to major in? You have to pick a specialty at Efnel eventually too, right?"
"Ah, right, we do."
She settled down comfortably, pressed her palms into the grass, and leaned back on them.
"I actually decided the day I enrolled. I'm pretty sure I'm going into Divine Beast Studies."
"Divine Beast Studies? Now that you mention it, I haven't learned anything about that one."
"Because that's a discipline you're incapable of learning."
She wagged her index finger with insufferable smugness.
"You have to have a Divine Beast in the first place."
"A Divine Beast?"
Divine Beasts were sacred creatures capable of generating divinity from their own bodies. The undead were spread across the entire continent and their numbers had swelled enormously, but Divine Beasts existed only in vanishingly small numbers.
A rare species said to be born one or two at a time only in the purest, most untouched corners of nature.
"...Even just hearing the description, it sounds absurdly expensive. It's not exactly a popular discipline at Efnel either, is it?"
"No, it isn't."
She waved her hands as if to say, don't even get her started.
"Divine Beasts are hard to find in the first place, then there's the feeding costs, the maintenance fees, and an endless list of things to stress over. And above all—if yours dies to an enemy's attack, or simply reaches the end of its lifespan, the summoner is left with absolutely nothing they can do."
"Oh... you know, now that you say that."
It sounds a lot like Summoning.
For the briefest moment, Simon felt a flicker of kinship with her.
"Oh, wait! Then that means you have a Divine Beast."
"I do."
Curiosity crashing over him in a wave, Simon tilted his head.
"Can you show it to me? Right here, right now?"
This was Lethe—the ranked-first freshman of Efnel's entire first-year class.
What kind of Divine Beast could she possibly possess, that she'd chosen Divine Beast Studies as her major before she'd even enrolled?