One Moon, One Moon (1)
"I'm telling you, this is strange…"
Yona muttered, holding up her spoon.
On the spoon sat a rather sizable chunk of meat, its red stew sauce sliding down in a slow, viscous ribbon—thickened now with a rich blend of meaty juices.
"Strange how?"
Alec, sitting across from her and dunking bread into his stew, looked up and asked. They were supposed to finish breakfast quickly and get ready to depart, but instead of eating, Yona was just staring into her bowl. No wonder she looked odd to him.
"When I ordered this, it was supposed to be mostly peppers and carrots with barely any meat. Do you know how exhausted I was picking it all out? Half my time eating, half my time fishing things out of the bowl."
Watching her continue to mutter at her spoon, Alec nearly burst out laughing.
Well, of course it turned out this way. He had been the one plucking the peppers and carrots out of the stew and transferring them to his own bowl, while ladling the big, bobbing chunks of meat into hers. Naturally she'd end up with a spoonful like that. Yona had been busy making sandwiches the whole time Alec was dishing out the stew, so she had no idea.
"I must have a face that says 'loves meat.' That's why they loaded it up for me."
"Really? I love meat too. You'd think they'd read the customer before serving. That's how you run a business into the ground."
Yona glared daggers at the kitchen, while Alec could only smile.
He simply had no idea what he was supposed to say to that.
By the time they finished the meal and stepped out of the inn, the weather was gloriously clear. The sky stretched high and blue, and between drifting puffs of white cloud, the rising sun shone brilliantly down on the world below. As supply wagons laden with construction materials rumbled past them toward the Wizard Tower, one after another, Yona and Alec headed in the opposite direction, toward the general store.
"So we need to buy a bedroll, and I think salt too. What was that thing Kayak mentioned? The salt block thing."
"Rock salt."
"Right, rock salt. And rock salt plus…"
Spreading a piece of parchment across a flat shelf, pen in hand, Yona was carefully writing out each and every item they needed to buy. Watching her quietly from above her shoulder, Alec suddenly asked:
"Why bother writing all that down? You could just walk in and say 'give me everything we need,' and they'd hand it over."
"Oh, please. Look at you—one taste of money and you've changed completely."
Straightening her back, Yona grinned up at him, teeth flashing.
"Maybe you can afford to be careless with all your money, but I'm flat broke now, you know. I'm starting over from scratch. Which means no overspending. Got it? If you want to buy exactly what you need and nothing else, if you want to avoid impulse purchases, you have to prepare. That's what this is. Understand?"
"Oh, of course, of course. Tell me—how does it feel, having blown every last gold coin you scraped together?"
Alec asked with a laugh, and Yona's face scrunched up in a deep scowl.
One hundred and twenty gold coins.
She still had about ten left, but those were strictly an emergency fund. She hadn't dared touch the grubby, grimy gold coins she'd been carrying when she left Evian.
Thanks to meeting that golden opportunity called Ceres, she had raked in an absolutely staggering fortune—and then burned through every last bit of it.
"Blown? I didn't blow it. Now I know why it failed, so all I have to do is fix it. Understand?"
"Sure, let's go with that."
"What do you mean, 'let's go with that'?"
Yona scowled and jabbed him in the ribs, and Alec let out an exaggerated yowch, clutching his side in theatrical agony.
The truth was, Alec couldn't contain his joy that Yona was still exactly the same as ever.
They had bought time, this much he knew. That tattoo carved into both of Yona's arms—until it was resolved, no matter what it took, he would win her heart. He swore it to himself again and again: he would make her forget all about this foolish idea of returning to being a man. He swore it, and swore it once more.
"…Um."
"Hm?"
Snapped out of his resolve by her small voice, Alec looked back down at her. Yona was fidgeting with her own left hand, head tilted slightly down.
"Did you call my name? Why?"
Unable to quite meet his eyes, Yona hesitated for a moment—then broke into a bright, winning smile.
"So, you're paying for this one. Buddy."
"…Ugh."
He'd seen it coming, of course. It was fine. Really.
The moment the cathedral ship pulled into the harbor, a gangway was lowered for disembarkation.
"This is quite different from when we departed."
"I suppose that's only natural."
Taking the hand Ludwig offered, Vigrind stepped carefully onto the gangway and made her way down from the ship. Though they had sailed far to the south compared to Carpatia Port, winter was still winter, and the cold was nothing short of bitter. The sea's characteristic fierce wind wormed its way through the folds of her holy robe, and the chill set her whole body shivering.
"Please come down quickly. It seems quite a crowd has come out to meet us."
At Ludwig's words, Vigrind glanced down from the gangway. That stout, heavyset frame—the first person she spotted was Bishop Pobi of the Evian parish.
"His Grace the Bishop retains his, ah, distinctive silhouette. And that goatee—that would be Viscount Cartein, surely?"
"Yes, it is."
Waving one hand toward Pobi and Cartein while steadying Vigrind with the other, Ludwig descended the gangway slowly and carefully. Standing before the welcoming party that had unmistakably come from the cathedral were, as expected, Bishop Pobi and Viscount Cartein, there to greet the two of them.
"Welcome, welcome! Sir Hero, and Her Holiness the Saintess. What a long journey you've had—we are deeply grateful for your labors."
"With the Heavenly God watching over us, 'labor' hardly seems the word. Bishop Pobi, Viscount Cartein."
Thanks to the exhaustive etiquette lessons Vigrind had drilled into him aboard the ship—until his mouth went dry—Ludwig greeted Cartein and Pobi with a graceful, practiced bow, looking every bit the dignified Hero. The thought crossed both men's minds in unison: the Hero who had left this place half a mad dog had returned from the Church Territory looking remarkably polished. Pobi and Cartein each breathed a quiet, inward sigh of admiration.
"By the grace of the Heavenly God, and thanks to your concerns on our behalf, we returned without incident. I trust all has been well here?"
When Vigrind followed with a greeting of equal grace, Pobi and Cartein welcomed the pair with warm, genial smiles.
"What eventful happenings could there possibly be in a place like this? The weather is bitter cold. Please, let us be on our way—a carriage is waiting."
Ludwig and Vigrind walked along the procession route prepared in advance. Behind the cathedral's welcoming delegation, most of the residents of this small port town—people whose livelihoods hung on every visiting ship—had turned out to greet them fervently. Ludwig and Vigrind waved left and right, smiling without pause as they made their way through the crowd.
At the end of the procession route waited a white carriage, and the four of them—Ludwig, Vigrind, Pobi, and Cartein—climbed inside. The door had barely closed before the warmth came flooding in. The feeling of frost-stiffened limbs slowly thawing was beyond compare, and the moment a warm teacup settled into her hands, Vigrind felt her mood lift entirely.
"We proceed straight to Evian, I take it?"
"That is the plan. Though should you feel fatigued, you're welcome to rest here first—"
"No, we're quite all right. The Saintess would do better to rest in Evian as soon as possible rather than linger here. Wouldn't you agree, Saintess?"
When Ludwig answered with a brisk smile, Vigrind nodded inwardly. Evian was her hometown, after all—she had once remarked in passing that no rest anywhere else ever felt like true rest. Ludwig, it seemed, had remembered. He really does remember everything, Vigrind thought, and yet somehow, the thought did not displease her.
"So you intend to begin your investigation from here."
As the carriage rolled toward Evian, Ludwig gave Pobi and Cartein a brief account of the Hero's Pilgrimage that was about to begin. Evian was where the demon had first revealed itself—and not merely one demon, but demons appearing in pairs. Then came Carpatia, where demons had surfaced next. At Ludwig's explanation of the demon known as Berbaria, Pobi and Cartein exchanged sigh after heavy sigh.
"And so, while it may be speculation to call Evian the flashpoint of the current crisis, we intend to begin by investigating that very question."
"I see. A sound approach, I think. However… Saintess."
Ludwig spoke, and Vigrind—who had occasionally stepped in to supplement points he'd omitted—turned her gaze toward Pobi. Pobi, his face brimming with an oily, ingratiating smile, addressed her.
"I trust His Holiness the Pope remains in good health?"
"Yes. His Holiness Axell IV, our current Pope, was in excellent health when we departed."
"Is that so. Heh heh—truly, this is the Heavenly God's tender care at work."
But Ludwig had seen it.
The emotion that flashed for an instant across Pobi's eyes.
Disappointment—the word fit exactly.
Why, upon hearing that Axell IV was in good health, would Pobi look disappointed? Ludwig knew nothing of the inner workings of ecclesiastical politics, but he made a mental note all the same, sketching a mark of caution beside Pobi's name in his mind. Something about the man simply felt off.
The journey from the port to Evian did not take long. And while it was no Ceres's carriage, the cathedral's carriage was still a luxurious one, guaranteeing a smooth and comfortable ride—decidedly more pleasant than the voyage by sea. That night, the carriage sat halted at camp, cathedral knights ringing the area in strict watch, torchlight flickering here and there around the encampment.
Ludwig, perched atop the carriage roof and looking down at the wandering flames, heard the hatch beneath him rattle. He took hold of the handle and lifted the cover. Startled by the sudden opening, a head of red twin-tails flinched—then peeked up sheepishly.
"Saintess? Not asleep?"
"Somehow, sleep wouldn't come."
Vigrind climbed up the rope ladder onto the carriage roof. The hem of her pure-white holy robe still felt awkward and unfamiliar, her movements stiff and uneasy, so Ludwig silently held out his hand—and the moment she took it, drew her up beside him with a gentle pull.
"Our Saintess really ought to eat more. You're still growing, after all. Eat plenty and you'll shoot right up, won't you?"
"Please don't tease me."
Face flushing red, Vigrind smoothed the folds of her robe and sat down carefully at Ludwig's side.
"And why is the Hero awake at this hour, sitting up here?"
At her question, Ludwig tilted his head back toward the sky. The brilliant moonlight bathed the world in a piercing shade of blue, and though black night clouds occasionally drifted across the moon's face, it always slipped free again, scattering its light as before.
"…I was watching the moon."
"The moon?"
"Yes. The moon."
"But why the moon…?"
"I've always been rather fond of the moon."
Ludwig had met plenty of people who despised the moon, but those who loved it were rare indeed. When Vigrind only stared at him—a rare one, apparently—Ludwig held her gaze a moment, then smiled crookedly.
"I was an adventurer to begin with, and my family was nothing to speak of. So, you might say I'm one of those little stars twinkling faintly in that night sky."
"How can you say such a thing?"
"It's simply the truth, isn't it? Not a noble, not an exceptional knight—what light could I possibly cast? I have some skill with a blade, I'll grant, but it hardly amounts to brilliance. A faint star's glimmer, no more."
"I see."
"And then such a man as me was granted the name of Hero, and the power of a Hero. So perhaps I'm like the moon, after all. Not bright enough to rival the sun, but—the moon, all the same."
"……"
Vigrind didn't know how to answer. So she could only hold her tongue.
"But even so, the moon lights up the world. Clouds may block it, as those do now—yet still the moon shines. It forces its way past the clouds and casts its light at last. It may never blaze like the sun, but isn't its light more than enough to burn away the dark?"
"I suppose it is."
"And yet, even the moon must be lonely, hanging there all alone. That's why I intend to try harder."
"Try harder?"
"Yes. Because if there were another moon beside the moon, I don't think it would be lonely anymore."
Vigrind could say nothing at all.
I hope it does become that way, she wanted to say—but the words wouldn't come.