An Envoy of the Holy Federation
“You're confident?”
Simon gave a solemn nod.
“Yes. I am.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Jane raised her quill and signed the mission request.
“Then go.”
“……I'm— sorry?”
Simon felt the mountain of excuses he'd prepared in his head crumble into dust.
She's really just letting me go, just like that?
“There must be a reason you claimed confidence in front of a Kizen professor. You don't need to convince me. You are Kizen, and the only thing you owe me is responsibility for the results.”
Her gaze turned unsettling.
“I sincerely hope you are not deceiving me, Simon Polentia.”
Meeting her eyes head-on, Simon's expression hardened, but beyond that, he didn't waver an inch. He bowed deeply.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
“…….”
Her quill paused once, then resumed its motion.
“Please return home safe.”
It sounded like a remark tossed off in passing, but somehow, her voice felt warm to Simon.
The moment Simon returned to the dormitory, he started moving at a frantic pace.
“Dick! I'm thinking of heading down to Rochest for a bit—do you know a safe route?”
“Huh? Today?”
Simon went down to Rochest using the route he'd heard from Dick.
There, he purchased a few pieces of equipment, along with an adventurer's robe and a change of clothes to conceal his identity.
Then he headed straight up into the Forbidden Forest and stopped by Pier's ruins.
“Pier! Isn't this perfect?”
What Simon held out was an empty suit of plate armor—the kind that might have been used as interior decoration in some crumbling old castle.
Pier's face turned to one of pure disgust.
[You're not seriously telling me to get inside that?]
“You said you'd be accompanying me during the mission, didn't you? You can't exactly stroll around in your current form.”
[……Tch.]
In the end, Pier climbed inside the armor. Climbed was the more accurate word than wore.
A short while later, the armor began to move, clanking in a distinctly unnatural way.
[……You truly expect me to go about like this?]
“It suits you, Pier!”
Simon clapped his hands, beaming. Pier whipped around, bristling.
[Damnation! How many times must I say it—do not smile like Anna!]
“Hahaha!”
With Pier and the legionified skeletons stowed away in his subspace, Simon returned to Kizen.
Back in his room, Dick was already asleep, and Kajan was nowhere to be seen.
Simon packed his bags and prepared for the journey alone. Come early tomorrow morning, the mission would begin with a teleport departure.
It really has been a while since I've left Roc Island.
His heart fluttering with anticipation, Simon closed his eyes.
Dawn of the next day.
Simon gathered his things and headed for the designated meeting point. A long-distance teleportation device had been installed on the hill behind Kizen, and a crowd of students was already lining up, waiting for their turn.
“Simon!”
At the sound of his name, he turned to find Meilin waving as she jogged toward him. Apparently, she was using the teleportation device here as well.
“Hey, Meilin.”
“Hey! So, are you seriously taking that mission?”
“Yep.”
Meilin crossed her arms with a dissatisfied look.
“I told you a survey mission is hard to complete in five days. You should've picked something easier, I said.”
Simon answered with an easy smile.
“Thanks for worrying about me.”
“I-I'm not worried!”
She snapped. Simon laughed it off and asked again.
“Where are you headed?”
“A merchant caravan escort leaving from near Langestin.”
She grinned, puffing herself up proudly.
“Pretty great, right? A carriage trip straight out of Langestin.”
“Still, be careful. If you run into a band of brigands…”
“Oh, come on—do they still do things the old way these days? And even if bandits did show up…”
She drew aside the adventurer's robe she wore over her clothes.
Beneath it was the Kizen girls' uniform—a black jacket, a white shirt, and a matching skirt.
“I just show them this and tell them to get lost. Even the dimmest bunch of bandits knows what happens when you mess with Kizen.”
Simon gave an awkward chuckle.
He remembered the day before enrollment, when he'd crossed paths with gang members in Langestin—the instant Lorraine revealed the name Kizen, every one of them lost their will to fight.
“……That's kind of a dirty trick.”
“That's exactly why merchant caravans request Kizen students in the first place.”
Just then, the teleport attendants began calling out the students' names. Hearing hers, Meilin waved.
“Well, bye then! See you next week.”
“Yeah. Don't get hurt.”
“You watch yourself too. Carlos is on the very front line of the Dark Alliance, you know.”
With those parting words, Meilin hurried off.
Quite a few students were headed to Langestin, and they crowded shoulder to shoulder atop the teleportation device. Langestin was close to Kizen, and once a mission ended, students could stay and enjoy themselves before returning—which made it a popular destination.
Before long, Meilin and the other students were transported away, and the attendant called Simon's name along with those of a few others.
Simon walked over.
“Please present your identification and mission request form.”
The waiting attendant bowed politely. Simon handed over the student ID issued by Kizen and the request form bearing Jane's signature.
“To the Arnish Fief in the Kingdom of Carlos. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“Your signature here, please.”
“Got it.”
The attendant took the signed document, stepped aside with a bright smile.
“You're all confirmed. Step up, please.”
“Thank you.”
Simon stepped onto the teleportation device. And there, standing ahead of him, was a student who had arrived before him.
Oh.
He knew that face.
They had even taken the oath together as student representatives—Simon as the male representative, and she as the female.
With beautiful ivory-colored hair flowing in the wind, this girl wore a white coat draped over her Kizen uniform and held an elegant, gracefully designed parasol.
Meeting Simon's eyes, she lifted the hem of her skirt in greeting.
“We meet again.”
The official successor of the Ivory Tower. Special Admission No. 2, Serne Aindark.
Somehow, tension hung in the air.
It wasn't because of her background—it was the strange, alien energy flowing off her.
……I can't breathe.
Among all the countless students at Kizen, the only person with this kind of distinctive aura was Lorraine.
Lorraine's presence was oppressive and rough-hewn, but Serne's carried something else entirely—a lofty, unattainable nobility of bearing.
A sovereign's dignity that made her opposite feel small and cowed, that compelled reverence. She seemed so far above him that he half-wondered if they could really be the same age.
Then her lips parted.
“I hear our dear Meilin is in your debt.”
“…….”
She knew that Simon and Meilin shared the same class and the same group.
“She can be a bit prickly, but she's sweet and tender-hearted underneath. Do take good care of her.”
Simon drew a slow, deep breath. Little by little, the trembling in his body and the tension in his chest dissolved, and the stray thoughts scattered to the wind.
At last, a relaxed smile came to Simon's lips as well.
“Why are you telling me that?”
“……Pardon?”
“Meilin isn't someone under your protection. She's a freshman of Kizen, your equal.”
Simon had caught the meaning hidden in her words and her tone.
Serne spoke of Meilin as her subordinate as naturally as she breathed.
And that fact grated on him, deeply.
“Meilin is doing just fine without anything to worry about from you.”
A deep smile spread across Serne's lips.
“Is that so.”
This was the first time simply exchanging words with someone drained him this much of his mental fortitude.
Wanting nothing more than to be done with her, Simon turned his head away—but Serne kept staring at him, blinking those jade-green eyes, unblinking in their fixation. Beads of sweat prickled across Simon's forehead.
“We will now activate the device!”
Thankfully, the attendant announced the activation at just the right moment.
Vuuuuuuuum!
The teleportation device roared to life, and a dazzling light swallowed Simon and Serne whole.
Serne smiled sweetly.
“Until we meet again.”
I'd rather we didn't!
With that thought, Simon surrendered himself entirely to the sensation of his body lifting off the ground.
The Dark Alliance.
The Kingdom of Carlos, the Arnish Fief.
The lord's office in the fief's castle.
“……It's happened again?”
A middle-aged man with a long brown beard grimaced and let out a sigh.
He was Count Raymond, the lord who governed Arnish.
“Yes, my lord. My deepest apologies.”
The captain of the guard bowed, his face stiff. Beside him lay a corpse on a stretcher, covered with a white cloth. The face was hidden by the cloth, but the limp hand hanging loose at its side was shriveled and withered like a mummy's.
“The incidents keep getting more frequent! Three this month alone!”
The count slammed his fist down on the desk with a resounding crash, then loosened his collar and heaved a great sigh.
“We cannot go on living in this state of dread! What about the mercenaries we hired from outside?”
“They're continuing the search, my lord, but even after combing the entire fief like that, they found nothing…”
The count's brow furrowed.
“Useless lot—nothing but eating my money and producing nothing! Send them all back!”
“Understood! And—forgive me for asking, but what of Kizen…?”
“Kizen has heard nothing back either.”
The count ground his teeth.
It had been three months since he'd submitted the request. Victims kept piling up because of this unknown menace, and Kizen had yet to send any response at all.
The captain of the guard lowered his head.
“Perhaps instead of filing it as an ordinary request, we should formally petition Kizen headquarters for support…”
“Summon a necromancer from headquarters? Have you money to burn—planning to toss the entire fief budget at one request fee?”
“F-forgive me! I spoke out of turn!”
The count leaned back deep into his chair.
“That's enough. Go on.”
“Yes, my lord. Rest well!”
The captain and the guards carried the body out of the room. Sighing, the count poured wine into an empty glass.
“Will you have a drink?”
he said, raising his glass. Then, from behind the curtain, a voice answered.
“I thank you for the offer, but I must decline—I am still on duty.”
The curtain drew back, revealing someone seated in a chair.
Clad in a robe with a hood pulled low, a faintly pale head of hair visible beneath it.
The count drained his wine in a single gulp.
“I apologize for summoning someone of your standing to a place like this. But as you know, the situation is dire.”
The Crown Prince was scheduled to visit the fief as early as next month.
At such a critical moment, he could not afford such an unsettling affair hanging over his lands. The count's eyes gleamed.
“You truly can resolve this, yes?”
The seated figure rose slowly to their feet.
As the staff in her hand nudged the hood upward, thick hair cascaded down, revealing the face of a young girl.
“Do you distrust Efnel?”
The count flinched.
“N-no, that's not what I meant…!”
“Do not worry, my lord. Saving the people of the continent from the deeds of wicked undead is the will of the great Goddess.”
A radiant smile bloomed on her lips.
“On the honor of His Holiness the Pope—I, Ellen Zeil, second-year of the Holy College Efnel, swear that I will solve this case.”