The Northern Continent
The cathedral carriage that had departed from Evian was now winding its way around the Lucassia Mountain Range.
The final destination was As-hargen, the port city at the northernmost tip of the Lucassia Kingdom. From there, the plan was to cross the Plavus Sea, pass through the Alter Sea, and put in at the Grand Duchy of Carpatia.
“Don't look at me like that, Hero.”
“Ah, forgive me.”
Vigrind turned her gaze away from the Hero with a prim, put-upon expression.
It was midday on the second day since leaving Evian. Six cathedral carriages had set out in all, and riding in the grand guest carriage at the very center were the Hero Ludwig and Vigrind herself.
No matter how she looked at him, he seemed far too lightweight for someone supposedly called the Hero. And Vigrind herself was hardly fit to call herself a Saint—she had been happy enough when the title was bestowed, and honestly, she was aware, at least to some degree, of the question of whether she was truly worthy of being a Saint. The problem was that Ludwig didn't seem to possess even that much self-awareness.
“Saintess.”
Vigrind managed, just barely, to wrestle down the barbed tone of voice that had all but leapt out of her mouth—a habit now, worn smooth by repetition.
Because of Yona—that was how she thought of it. That sharp tongue of hers was hardly the right way to speak to the man she would be sharing a long Hero's Pilgrimage with.
“Yes?”
“What sort of place is this Northern Continent?”
She wondered for a moment if he was joking, but he clearly wasn't. Ludwig's expression was quite serious; the endlessly frivolous look he usually wore had vanished entirely, and his sunken eyes were demanding a proper answer.
“Forgive me. That was an abrupt question on my part.”
Ludwig rummaged through the document satchel fastened beside the carriage seat, drew out a map, and spread it across the small table. A map of nations—of the countries drawn across this continent.
“Evian, where we were staying, would be right about here, yes?”
“Yes, that's right.”
Evian—perched at the northern edge of the Lucassia Kingdom, its back against the Lucassia Mountain Range. Ludwig's finger, having pinpointed it, traced a line screeching across the map until it landed on As-hargen.
“And that is where we are headed now. Correct?”
“Yes, that too is correct. And from As-hargen, we will go out onto the Plavus Sea.”
Vigrind's slender finger touched the open waters beyond the port. The Plavus Sea—also called the Golden Sea. Legend held that during the great war between old Catus and old Carpatia, treasure ships fleeing through the Fulpus Kingdom had sunk there, and their hoards had all gone down with them.
“And from this Plavus Sea… to the Alter Sea.”
“There really are a great many nations, aren't there? The balance of power must be quite complicated.”
At those words, Vigrind dug up memories of her days of instruction at the cathedral. Surely they had been taught that while the land was indeed divided into nations, the nations themselves weren't what mattered.
“There's no need to think of it so intricately. Rather than a contest between nations, it will be simpler to picture a contest between races.”
“Between races, you say?”
“Yes, races. Elves and humans, beastkin, dwarves, orcs. Those five races stand in opposition to one another—that is the current state of things.”
“Hmm.”
Ludwig crossed his arms and let out a breath. The Southern Continent he had come from had never been this complicated. Beneath the map of the Northern Continent, small and marked off, lay the land of death—the Great Desert. Marlene, which belonged to the Southern Continent below it, was his homeland.
“Speaking of which, you did say you were from Marlene, Hero.”
“Yes. It lies on the Southern Continent.”
Vigrind had found that detail rather puzzling. Marlene. That name that cropped up again and again during her cathedral education. Wasn't it the place where the legends of the Heavenly God remained? The place where His descendants were said to have lived for generations? She knew perfectly well that it lay on the Southern Continent. How on earth had he made the journey from Marlene—practically holy ground to the Heavenly God Church—all the way to Evian? If he had truly crossed the Great Desert, that land of death, he should have arrived in far worse a state.
“…No.”
Snuffing out the suspicion as it rose, Vigrind shook her head. To doubt the Hero was to doubt the Heavenly God Himself—what could be more impious? The Heavenly God had guided him to Evian, and as a result, a Saintess had been born there as well; the divine guidance could not have been in vain. And so, there was no need to doubt anything at all.
“About three more days of travel and we'll reach As-hargen. I know it must feel stifling, but I ask that you bear with it a little longer, Hero.”
“Very well. The journey is comfortable enough for me, so I have nothing to complain of.”
Ludwig had no particular grievance either. Riding in a carriage took him to his destination all on its own—it was, if anything, a remarkably pleasant way to travel.
Dust was rising in constant plumes. Six cathedral carriages on the move, and the horses of the order of holy knights escorting them, kicked up clouds of dirt that hung in the air. Because of it, the scenery beyond the windows was veiled in a dull haze, and the outside world could hardly be made out at all.
“—Kayak?”
Yes. May I come in for a moment?
“One second.”
Yona hurriedly wound the sacred shroud around her right arm, covering the tattoo beneath. Kayak was a comrade she trusted, but there was no telling whether he would remain a comrade—if he would keep that trust—after seeing such an ominous mark.
“Come in.”
With the groan of old wooden hinges twisting, Kayak stepped into the room. He took a single step inside, then went no further, gesturing toward Yona instead.
“There is something I'd like us all to gather and discuss. Come down to the first floor.”
“Huh? Oh—right. Got it. I'll be right down.”
The moment Yona answered, Kayak turned without a second's delay and left. He could have just called up to me—what's with climbing all the way here to say it, Yona muttered to herself, straightening her clothes before heading down.
“Ah, Yona. Didn't wake you, did I?”
James raised the cup he was holding and grinned ear to ear. Given his sheer size, the cup in his hand was far larger than the usual sort—a block of wood hollowed out and turned straight into a drinking vessel, rough-hewn in the extreme.
“Here, have a seat.”
“Yeah.”
When Yona saw the handkerchief Alec had spread over her chair, she scrunched up her face, picked it up, and scrubbed it over Alec's bald head.
“I told you to quit treating me like a girl, you bald bastard.”
“Aw, come on. It's called manners. Manners.”
“I don't need that kind of manners. I'm a man.”
“Huh. So it really is true.”
At James's words, Yona—who had been scuffling with Alec—turned to look at him. In an instant every eye in the room had converged on her, and James, looking a bit sheepish, scratched at one of the long tusks jutting from his jaw.
“Well, it's just—Alec here told us. Said that Yona may look the part, but she's a man through and through, and not to judge by appearances. I'll admit I didn't quite believe it until now.”
“…I stated a fact. What's the problem?”
Yona pressed her mouth shut and sat down. Her mood had already been soured by that curse mark, and now even James—the one she'd taken for the serious type—was carrying on like this. Her spirits sank even further.
“In any case, the reason I've gathered everyone is that it seems our schedule will need to change.”
Kayak lifted the cup set before him, drained it with a long slurp, and spoke. A cup had been placed in front of Yona as well; when she peered at it, the smell suggested fruit wine. It was nothing but sour, and she had little appetite for it.
“Change the schedule how?”
Alec asked on Yona's behalf, since her mouth was stubbornly shut.
“It seems we'll have to give up our original route.”
“What's that supposed to mean? Kayak, explain properly.”
“Yes, yes. I'll explain, so wait a moment. Can't a man even wait that long?”
Yona looked ready to snap back at him, but Kayak extended a hand, waving it in a calming motion, and grinned. Seen up close, that shark-like maw of his twisting into a smile was frankly a frightening sight—but Yona and Alec had long since grown used to it.
“We're going by way of the plain.”
“…The plain?”
“That's right.”
Kayak drew the expensive map from his pack and spread it out.
“We're around here now.”
The point where they were camped sat precariously straddling the border between the Carpatia Empire and the Marea Republic. Kayak's thick finger tapped it.
“The original plan was to keep going from here and cross the Insturia Mountains, but watching your stamina on this last stretch, Yona, I don't think crossing the mountains is possible.”
“Hey, I can do it! I really can. Marching is all about willpower in the end!”
“Hah. That willpower of yours—even I will grant it, Yona.”
This was no flattery; he meant it. If not for Yona, not only Alec but Kayak himself would have been left as cold corpses in that Catacomb. To cling to that horrific thing and attempt a purification—and to actually see it through to success—took gall beyond the ordinary.
“But this is a long march. Over a long distance, willpower alone won't carry you. You understand what I mean? Calm down and hear me out.”
Yona swallowed her boiling irritation and took a swig of the fruit wine. Sour.
“From here we go north, through the Carpatia Empire… to the Grand Duchy of Carpatia. From there, we pass through the Medial Plain and reach the Community. That's the route.”
“It'll be a great deal slower than cutting straight through.”
“True enough. But I'd rather not make haste straight into an early grave.”
At Kayak's firm words, Yona shut her mouth. And who knew—perhaps this was for the better. Going by way of the Medial Plain meant passing through the Infula Holy See, which might actually work in their favor.
“…Fine. Then let's do it that way.”
“And James has agreed to join us. As far as the Medial Plain, that is.”
“James? But you have a family.”
“Heh heh, I owe a debt or two, and a debt must be repaid. Fortunately, an archer doesn't overlap with anyone's line of work here. And it's only as far as the Medial Plain, so no need to feel burdened on my account.”
Every time he spoke, his protruding tusks caught the candlelight, glistening slickly—it was a rather grotesque sight. But as they'd seen when he faced down the black bear, his skill was beyond question, and he was a far sight better company than the three of them traveling alone.
“Besides, I know the Medial Plain like the back of my hand.”
“We'll be in your care.”
There had never really been a choice to make.
“Don't look so glum about it.”
“Who's looking glum?”
The homemade fruit wine was brewed the same witless way as any country liquor—fruit drowned wholesale in spirits—so the alcohol hidden beneath that sour fruit flavor packed quite a punch. Yona was always getting tripped up by it. Back when she'd been a man, she remembered being a drinker who'd crack open cases of soju with her friends—and so she kept forgetting that this body's tolerance, here and now, wasn't particularly strong. Even tonight she'd knocked back three, four cups in a row, and a tipsy warmth was climbing up through her, leaving her pleasantly lightheaded.
Alec suggested a walk to help sober up; Yona jabbed at him—what, practicing your moves?—but the idea wasn't a bad one, and so the two of them had stepped outside together.
It was a truly beautiful village. There were no rice paddies or farm fields in sight, but every respectable house had a small kitchen garden in its front yard. The night dew that had settled over those gardens caught the moonlight without restraint, glittering as though fallen stars had come to rest upon them.
“Oh, right.”
Alec suddenly remembered what he'd tucked away in his sling bag.
“What?”
Rummaging through the bag, Alec happened to glance up at Yona. The full moon hung brilliant and unobscured, a single cloud nowhere in sight, ruling the night sky. That dazzling white moon had risen directly behind Yona, as though the night itself had arranged her backdrop—and the sight of her, silhouetted against its light, struck Alec as unbearably beautiful.
But he didn't say it. There were things he wanted to say, right now, this instant—but still, he kept them behind his teeth. At the very least, now was not the time for words like those.
“…Here.”
Instead, Alec held out what he had pulled from the sling bag. Leather the color of pale oak wrapped around it. Yona took it from him.
“What is this?”
“I thought of you, so I bought one.”
It was the hunting knife he'd purchased to coax stories out of the general store's old man—about the bear, and about the Sacred Tree.
“Just keep it on you. I know you can't hold a weapon in your right hand, but your left works fine. I figured it'd be good to have, even just for self-defense.”
“Huh…”
Yona slid the knife from its leather sheath and held it up to the moonlight. In a certain light, the gleaming dagger looked awfully fine.
“I can't really judge, to be honest. Never used one. But since you're giving it to me, I guess it must be good.”
And then, hitching up the left hem of her nun's habit, Yona undid the holder's cable, wound it snugly around her thigh, and fastened it in place.
“Doesn't it embarrass you, being a girl like that? Flashing your legs around bare as you please.”
“I'm a man, you bald bastard. What, you want to redeem that Breast Kneading Voucher right now?”
Yona straightened up with the hunting knife strapped to her thigh and flashed a grin. And with that, Alec's composure collapsed into laughter.
“…I'll use it a little later on. Properly—not like just now.”
“Sure, sure. Just don't come crying when you've cherished it into dust.”
Though he rather doubted he'd regret it.
Alec thought so, quietly, to himself.