The Southern Call
Isalbius.
Elbridge made up his mind.
'The South. I'm heading to the Eternal Lake.'
Leaving the main temple in Soleneon empty didn't worry him.
The Eastern region of Soleneon boasted one of the highest concentrations of holy knights anywhere on the continent. Even if another demon appeared, they would manage somehow. The quality might be questionable, but the quantity was undeniable.
Besides, holy knights grew noticeably stronger with every battle they survived against demons.
Not many had faced a demon directly in the last fight, but simply witnessing such a battle was an immense experience. It became powerful motivation for training.
If a demon appeared in Soleneon again, the holy knights would not be as helpless as before.
What truly concerned him lay elsewhere.
'The clue given by the Central Magic Tower Master. Would it be wise to pass that information to the Goddess?'
The Central Magic Tower Master had quietly conveyed his message using magic.
It meant there were those who should not overhear the conversation.
Who had the Central Magic Tower Master wanted to keep this from?
'It can't be Rombel or Marcus.'
Yet the only people present had been Elbridge, Rombel, Marcus, and the Central Magic Tower Master himself.
Excluding the two parties directly involved in the talk—Elbridge and the Tower Master—and ruling out Rombel and Marcus as well, that left only two beings who could have been listening: the Goddess of the Rusty Shield and the God of the Fox Rain.
The Central Magic Tower Master must have hoped his words would not reach those two deities.
'He said Leonhardt's actions touch upon the fundamental essence of the heavens.'
This too lent weight to Elbridge's suspicions.
What god would welcome a mortal drawing near the secrets of the divine realm?
Moreover, the Goddess of the Rusty Shield had once told him she could not speak of such matters.
'Then why did the Central Magic Tower Master try to hide the conversation from those two deities?'
The most likely reason was that either Elbridge or the Tower Master might suffer harm.
But the possibility that it could cause problems for the Goddess of the Rusty Shield or the God of the Fox Rain could not be dismissed. After all, even the gods of the heavens had rules they were bound to obey.
'Whatever the case, this might prevent me from following Leonhardt's trail.'
That left Elbridge with only one immediate need.
'I require a plausible excuse to travel to the South. To the vicinity of the Eternal Lake.'
The problem was that Elbridge had no connection whatsoever to the South.
Even two hundred years ago, he had never once set foot there.
How could he create a convincing reason to head south?
Brooding over the question, Elbridge left the temple.
*
The first place Elbridge's feet carried him was the mercenaries' guild.
If there was a major request heading south, he could travel there without raising too much suspicion.
'No, that might have worked in the old days. These days, me taking on such a request would probably look strange, wouldn't it?'
Ding.
As Elbridge pushed open the door to the mercenaries' guild, a small bell hanging above it let out a clear ring.
The first thing that caught his eye was a group of mercenaries lounging in sloppy postures on a long bench.
They, in turn, looked at him.
"···!"
In that instant, nearly every mercenary straightened up.
They sat with straight backs and properly aligned necks. It wasn't the disciplined posture of a knight, but for mercenaries, this was about as polite as they could manage.
Their eyes even held a rather clear look of admiration.
Mercenaries hated being bound by rules, but they respected the strong.
And by their standards, Elbridge was more than worthy of that respect.
'...This is burdensome.'
Feeling slightly awkward, Elbridge slowly read through the requests posted on the wall.
There were one or two requests heading to Middlemarch in the Central region, but none bound for the South.
"Sir Elbridge. If you've come to take on a request, please come this way."
When he turned his head, a guild employee was offering an uncomfortably bright and friendly smile.
The man clearly hadn't even considered the possibility that Elbridge might be here to post a request.
Elbridge replied with an embarrassed expression.
"I'm not here to post a request... I was just wondering if Marcus might be around, so I stopped by."
"Ah, yes. I've heard you two are quite close."
"Yes. Well..."
The mercenaries lowered their voices and began to whisper among themselves.
"That Marcus bastard, what luck. Snagging an impossible connection and suddenly rising through the ranks..."
If nothing else, Elbridge could understand why Marcus wasn't at the guild. The quick-witted man must have found the mercenaries' subtle jealousy uncomfortable.
The guild employee answered in a cheerful tone.
"When Marcus arrives, I'll let him know to head to the Rusty Shield Order."
"...Understood. Thank you."
Elbridge left the mercenaries' guild.
'Where should I go now? The lord's castle in Soleneon? Or the Magic Tower?'
As Elbridge walked down the street, lost in thought, an elderly priest in clerical robes approached him.
"Sir Elbridge, is that you, Sir Elbridge?"
The old priest seemed almost excessively delighted.
Since the battle with the demon, so many people had approached him with goodwill that Elbridge had planned to offer a polite greeting and move on.
But the priest's face looked strangely familiar. As if they had met somewhere before.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Elbridge recalled where he had seen that face.
"...The Flowing Water Order?"
The elderly priest looked overjoyed.
"You remember!"
This was the man who had hired five holy knights from other orders to participate in the Grand Tournament during the last festival. Without this priest, Elbridge would have had no reason to join the tournament at all.
However, the priest's attitude was slightly odd.
The last time they had met, their relationship had been rather uncomfortable.
After all, Elbridge had ruined the Flowing Water Order's plan to suppress the Spring Rain and Moss Order during the Grand Tournament and expand their influence in the East.
Yet here the priest was, greeting Elbridge with almost burdensome enthusiasm.
'...He must have some kind of scheme.'
Elbridge thought so and was about to excuse himself when one particular fact came to mind.
The Flowing Water Order's sphere of influence was concentrated in the Southern region.
Without realizing it, Elbridge smiled more warmly than usual.
"It's been a while, Father. Would you care to join me for a cup of tea at the temple?"
*
The elderly priest possessed the rather archaic name of Isalbius.
However, Isalbius looked at least ten years older than when Elbridge had last seen him.
This was despite only a little over half a year having passed since the last Grand Tournament.
Isalbius took a sip of the tea Elbridge had poured for him, then spoke in a deeply anxious voice.
"Sir Elbridge. I know this is an incredibly shameless request... but I desperately need your help."
"Is the situation truly so dire that my assistance is required?"
"I sought help from the other combat orders in Soleneon, but every single one refused."
The introduction alone was incredibly intriguing. It really did seem like he would have to head south after all.
Elbridge pulled his chair a little closer and asked.
"Isalbius. Could you first explain the situation in more detail?"
Isalbius nodded and began his explanation.
"The Order of the God of the Flowing Water has maintained its influence primarily in the southern part of the continent. Not to the extent of the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss Order... but we still held quite a solid position in the South."
"Yes. I've heard as much."
Large orders typically operated across multiple regions of the continent.
For example, the Golden Platter Order and the Olive Tree Order exerted influence throughout the entire continent, while the Spring Rain and Moss Order held considerable sway in the East and North.
However, orders with only one or two seats in the assembly—or none at all—often focused on a single region. It was a matter of selection and concentration.
Isalbius's voice grew even heavier.
"Around last spring or summer, when the number of demonic beasts began to increase. Our order's priests thought our time had finally come. After all, the more battles there are, the greater the influence of combat orders tends to grow."
"That is true."
"Our attempt to expand our influence even into the East was part of that same context. Though it ended in failure..."
Elbridge replied firmly.
"I had no choice but to stop that attempt. Since ancient times, the Rusty Shield Order has been the Spring Rain and Moss Order's closest ally."
A statement made with full awareness that the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss might be listening.
Isalbius let out a deep sigh.
"I understand. And I find it truly regrettable. Why the Flowing Water Order never had an ally like the Rusty Shield Order..."
From the atmosphere, it didn't seem like he was speaking out of resentment over the Grand Tournament's outcome.
"What happened?"
"At first, things went well. The combat orders of the South came to us, competing with one another to offer compensation in exchange for our aid. Since we lacked manpower and our divine power had its limits, the Flowing Water Order would first accept requests from the orders that promised the greatest reward."
It was a rational approach, but not exactly a pleasant story to tell in front of outsiders.
When Elbridge's expression grew slightly sour, Isalbius added a word of clarification.
"Of course, that doesn't mean we only pursued compensation. In truly urgent situations, we sent people without regard for reward. The important point is that we simply didn't have enough manpower or divine power to help every order."
"I see. Please continue."
"Wealth poured in, and with that wealth came more believers. At that rate, we thought we might regain our ancient influence—perhaps even secure two or three seats in the assembly."
It was a natural progression.
Without holy knights possessing healing powers, the holy knights of combat orders could only display half their true strength.
"Then a massive horde of demonic beasts swept over the South. Everyone fought desperately. The damage was severe, but we managed to repel them. The problem was that the orders who hadn't received our healing powers suffered the heaviest losses."
"...Don't tell me you demanded payment even in the middle of that chaos?"
"No, that wasn't it. We simply helped the orders we had more frequent contact with and deeper relationships first. Isn't that unavoidable?"
In other words, the orders they had fewer dealings with had been left to fend for themselves.
In such a situation, would those orders believe the claim that no monetary transactions had taken place?
Or rather, did that even matter anymore?
"The orders that suffered the most grew furious. Each order began forming factions and fighting among themselves. Over our priests and holy knights... living war trophies. A war broke out over them. The holy knights who had smiled and fought together only last spring are now desperate to kill one another."
Just looking at Isalbius's expression made it easy to imagine how horrific the scene must have been.
Who in the world could have predicted that humans would begin waging war in the face of demons and demonic beasts?
"At this point, our order's will no longer matters. Our priests and holy knights have been scattered everywhere and reduced to slaves. Slaves dragged onto the battlefield to heal the wounded. Our order is on the verge of complete disintegration."
"..."
"We need help desperately. Please rescue even a single one of those who have been taken. We will pay any price you ask."
It was a proposal that any order would naturally refuse.
Traveling all the way to the distant South to get involved in a war between orders?
The only compensation would be gaining an ally in a single-seat order whose usefulness was uncertain.
But Elbridge thought to himself.
'I don't like this.'
It wasn't about the compensation.
The problem was that this situation felt sickeningly familiar to him.
Back in the most chaotic era of the world.
The only people who could unite without any selfish thoughts were those on the front lines, where dying by evening was hardly surprising.
Those in the rear, on the other hand, could not come together.
Perhaps because they still had the luxury to indulge in factionalism.
At that moment, Marcus sauntered over.
"Sir Elbridge. I heard you were looking for me?"
Elbridge stood up and replied.
"Pack your things. We're heading south."
"...I don't get a choice in this, do I?"
Marcus's expression turned slightly gloomy.