Chapter 281: The Blessed Country and the Cursed Human - 4
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 281: The Blessed Country and the Cursed Human - 4
The Blessed Country, ruled by the Grandiomor Royal Family, was a kingdom of kings and knights.
In this nation, steeped in a thousand years of glory, there lived a man known as the Warlord.
He was a beacon of hope for the common people. Despite his humble origins, he achieved great military distinction and was appointed a free knight. With his handsome looks and good nature, he formed close bonds with the most prominent figures of the era. He turned down twenty suitors before marrying a beautiful young noblewoman.
The people celebrated his journey—a true rags-to-riches story—as if it were their own.
Soaring honor. Lavish balls. Wealth and power. Everything a commoner could never even dream of was his. The thirsty masses found a vicarious satisfaction in watching him, quenching their own desires through his success. Though their adoration was slightly warped, they loved him.
And when the Warlord forsook all that glory to work for the sake of lowly soldiers, he became an idol for all. The common folk felt as if they had become one with him…
Just as the royal family had planned.
The Warlord was a figurehead, meant to placate the people’s discontent. As their grievances grew louder by the day, the royal family decided to create a representative to capture their attention.
The Warlord, who was reasonably strong and good-looking, was chosen for this miserable yet glorious position.
In exchange for obeying the commands of the royal family and the noble knights, the Warlord was given everything: great fame, the woman he loved, even a comfortable mansion.
But all that he was given felt like a burden. He was gripped by the feeling of wearing ill-fitting clothes. No matter how much he washed, changed his clothes, or waved to the cheering citizens, he could not shake the suffocating feeling.
For the one watching him was the man he used to be, from a time of poverty and struggle. He could find no peace anywhere.
Riddled with guilt, he decided to at least be faithful to the duties he was given.
On a stage where knights were the protagonists of war, the soldiers were less than stagehands.
They were porters, carpenters, and laborers. They were also bait, or sometimes, just a few words to adorn an epic poem.
When a bored knight went out to hunt, the soldiers would follow with pots and blankets, chasing the beasts. Even if a cornered animal tore them to shreds, they were not allowed to fight back. The glory of thrusting a spear into the beast’s neck belonged solely to the knight.
And when a knight finally skewered the beast, the soldiers who died were mentioned only in songs praising the knight’s valor.
The Warlord, pitying the soldiers in their plight, did everything he could. He secured food for the hungry, abolished corrupt practices, organized their formations, and supplied them with provisions.
Instead of trailing after knights, they maintained the bases, paved roads, and dug waterways. They also consistently provided aid to the public, all to win the people’s support.
He also trained them, so that the existence of a soldier would not become meaningless. If they possessed at least a minimal amount of strength, they wouldn't be so easily expended.
The noble knights, who had been deprived of their versatile, unpaid, full-time servants, erupted in complaint, but the Warlord mobilized all his connections to barely smooth things over. The help of his close friend, Sunderspear Patraxion, was particularly crucial. The Warlord’s strength was considerable, but he was not the strongest; without Sunderspear, he would have been challenged to a duel.
In any case, the Warlord remained faithful to those who believed in him—both the royal family and the soldiers. He was simply being diligent.
Unlike how later generations would see him, he held no blind hatred for the royal family. He was driven only by a sense of responsibility.
Then one day, living as he did…
He was so faithful to the soldiers who followed him that he could not refuse their plot for a rebellion.
In the end, the Warlord brought the royal family to ruin.
Everyone cheered in the ashes of the royal palace. The fallen knights, wounded and abandoned; the knights who followed Patraxion; the oppressed masses and soldiers. They rejoiced, dreaming of a hopeful future.
Listening to their cheers, the Warlord sank into dark thoughts.
Though he had stumbled into it, the Warlord lacked the ability to lead a nation.
In truth, no one in the world possessed such an ability. The one way the Warlord was slightly better than the king was that he himself realized this fact.
The Warlord quickly grasped his own limitations and came to a conclusion. If he didn't have the ability to lead a nation, he would borrow it for a while.
Fortunately, there were those in the world who reigned with little interest in secular power. If he asked for their help, a path would surely open.
After quelling the immediate chaos, the Warlord entrusted his subordinates with their duties and set off on a journey.
To a place that reigned but did not rule, that led all in the name of faith.
Toward the Sanctum.
“…He is coming.”
—And Yuel, the Saintess of Foresight, ‘watched’ it all unfold.
In the deepest part of the Sanctum. A secret, sacred space where only the Saintess could set foot. Where fractured light seeped through the cracks between gray bricks, and where the statue honoring the Saintess of Origin blessed all.
The Saintess of Foresight withdrew her gaze from him.
Ever since the true prophet, the Saintess of Origin, lost her life on the cross, Saintesses had appeared in the faith of the Sky God. They differed in origin, age, appearance, and ability, but they had just two things in common.
One was that they were women.
The other was that their abilities were related to foresight.
“Reading the letter he is sending to the Sanctum now, it seems he wishes to reach out for help.”
Among them, Yuel, the Saintess of Foresight, possessed a simple yet powerful ability.
Clairvoyance.
The power to see everything in the world from where she sat. The eyes to see a future that had not yet arrived.
A power that, if revealed to the secular world, could shake nations and turn heaven and earth upside down, was vested in her small body. A young Saintess she may be, but a Saintess nonetheless.
Yuel, who had been waiting for a reply, turned her gaze back to her surroundings, puzzled by the continuing silence. Instead of a place a thousand leagues away, a beautiful garden came into view.
A place where water flowing from the statue graciously moistened the earth, and where wildflowers and vines danced beautifully. A hidden paradise, sacred, holy, and reverent.
And there, a girl with hair like ebony sat in a rocking chair, dozing off.
No artist in the world could capture this scene. Any painting they created would lack the sanctity that was difficult to describe in human language.
It was as if the scene itself was proof of God. Even one who did not believe in the Sky God would be compelled to kneel. A reverence that transcended beauty, a mystical bearing that evoked an ancient air.
A scene where faith and belief were made manifest. Yuel, who had been staring, lost in the sight, belatedly came to her senses and called out to the girl.
“Saintess of the Sky?”
When she asked again, the girl with closed eyes slowly parted her lips.
“It was refused, Yuel.”
Mayel, the Saintess of the Sky.
The Seer.
The Sleeping Prophet.
The highest of all in the Sanctum answered in a benevolent voice.
“I’ve made you watch such harsh things for too long, haven’t I? I’m sorry to have worried you. It was a historically important moment, so I borrowed your power. The situation is over, so pay him no more mind. It will soon be the season for beautiful auroras, so go rest while gazing upon the ice sea of the North…”
Unable to follow, Yuel asked again.
“What? The, the North Sea? Rest?”
“Oh, is it not the season for auroras ‘now’?”
Her way of speaking was dreamlike, detached from reality. Anyone with a conventional way of thinking would have smiled, thinking she was still half-asleep.
However, when the person in question was an unconventional being like the Saintess of the Sky, the standard of judgment changed. One had to doubt their own common sense and believe her blindly.
Because what she saw was not a dreamscape… but a future that ordinary humans did not yet know.
“It’s alright, Yuel. After a few months, you’ll have grown accustomed to my way of speaking. So accustomed, in fact, that you’ll even chide me for it. So for now, just let it be.”
“Ye-yes…”
The young Yuel, though confused by Mayel’s words, replied.
“Then, what about him…?”
When Yuel hesitantly asked about the Warlord, Mayel smiled sweetly. She spoke in a gentle, soft voice, as if to soothe Yuel.
“I took care of him. There is nothing to worry about. Everything is flowing as the Saintess of Origin ordained.”
She wasn't speaking of her own will, but simply relaying what she had seen in the future. Thus, there was no problem in speaking in the past tense. From Mayel’s perspective, it was the past.
In other words, the Warlord’s request had already been ‘refused.’ Though he would arrive in a week, the Sanctum’s answer was already decided.
“Do you understand, Yuel? Now, go and purify your body and mind by watching the most beautiful sights you can. It was necessary, but I regret it deeply. I misjudged your age and made you watch the fall of the kingdom and the death of the king. It might have been too much for someone as young as you.”
“Oh, Saintess of the Sky…”
“A week? It takes him a damn long time to get here from there. Making me use a whole week of my precious lifespan. What a waste. So you should go to sleep too, Yuel. Thanks for waking me… Oh, I’m just saying that in advance!”
Mayel gave a gentle smile and began to doze off again. It was a soft and amiable dismissal. Not wanting to disturb the Saintess of the Sky’s slumber, Yuel bowed her head and withdrew.
Yuel passed through the garden and returned to her room. Her cozy, warm, and opulent room.
The room had three sections. The largest was filled with all sorts of trinkets whose purpose was hard to guess. They were toys one wouldn't normally even imagine existed, things Yuel had discovered with her clairvoyance. The ever-curious Yuel had pestered for them, and the Sanctum had faithfully answered the Saintess’s requests.
The second room was a living room with a desk and chair. Of course, it too was filled with old vases, bizarrely shaped plants, and precious books from all over the world. Even then, the room was too cramped, so these were only the ones Yuel had carefully selected; the rest were safely stored in the Grand Library of Rakion.
The third room was where Yuel spent most of her time. The bedroom. A cozy room with a bed so large it filled the space. As always, Yuel lay down on that bed.
To Yuel, the bed was a small world. With her clairvoyance, she lay there and observed all of creation. Using her power, Yuel turned her gaze to a place other than here.
Yuel did not look at the North Sea.
Reflected in her eyes were the people singing of hope in the fallen kingdom… and the Warlord, spurring himself onward to this place. A smile unknowingly graced Yuel’s lips.
‘It was refused.’
Suddenly, the Saintess of the Sky’s words surfaced in Yuel’s mind, and the smile on her lips faded.
“Sir?”
A ripple spread. It was Captain Abbey’s voice. I came to my senses, a feeling similar to waking from sleep.
“I called for you several times, but you were unresponsive. Are you alright?”
“Ah. I must have dozed off. Have we arrived?”
“Affirmative. However, you were unresponsive even after landing, which was concerning. Was the impact of the landing severe?”
“I guess so.”
“Enough to make you pass out? Perhaps, was I too heavy…?”
“Yes. So you should exercise more often. You’re getting fat from just holing up in your room and playing voyeur.”
I offered some harsh but vital advice for Captain Abbey's health. Leaving the dejected Captain Abbey behind, I looked around.
I couldn’t see a thing. I needed some light.
“Set, Re. Lux.”
A faint light emerged from my fingertip, illuminating the passage. At the end of the dark, narrow corridor, a stone door was visible.
“That’s the place, right?”
“…Affirmative. I saw this scene in Signaller Yuel’s memories. This is definitely the place.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t look like there are any traps.”
Then again, for someone who could invade the command headquarters and search this far, a mediocre trap would be meaningless. Besides, having traps this deep underground would be more dangerous for the one who set them.
In any case, checkmate. This deep underground, there was nowhere left to run. Not for me, not for the Military State.
I tapped on the stone door and spoke.
“Alright, alright. I know you’re in there, so open up.”
But there was no response. I could read a mind with my ability, but that person’s will wasn't here. Their attention was focused on controlling the Angel.
To use my mind-reading properly, I needed to draw my opponent’s attention to me. If I left them alone, Historia would be in danger, so I figured I should just barge in and slap them across the face.
“I’m using force. Captain Abbey, step aside for a moment.”
A stone door, deep underground. Perfect conditions for using Earth Art. Spreading my hands, I placed them near the corners of the door and used my power. A technique that could sink or raise anything belonging to the earth. My own power was weak, making it too slow to use in a fight, but for moving heavy objects, nothing was better.
Rumble. A dull vibration resonated as the stone door slowly opened.