The Love of God
The night held only a sliver of moon, so few souls wandered the darkened streets.
The group moved with Bireon at the front, slipping across the city whenever clouds swallowed the moonlight.
The one piece of good fortune was that Bireon appeared to know their exact destination.
“Bireon. You know the way?” Elbridge asked.
Bireon answered without slowing. “I’ve visited a few times before. Our order and the Coiling Sword Order got along rather well before the war broke out.”
Elbridge thought of the two men Bireon had killed atop the ramparts. Even though they were not mortal enemies, Bireon had slain them without hesitation.
If I had been in his place, could I have done the same?
His skill was more than sufficient. Yet Elbridge lacked conviction—the certainty that he could pursue his order’s interests even at the cost of another’s life.
The senior holy knights lost to time had probably been no different from him.
Rombel asked Bireon, “Knowing the way is fine, but do you also know where the priests are staying?”
“Of course. How else do you think I knew the Coiling Sword bastards would be away tonight?”
Only one method came to mind: planting subordinates inside the Coiling Sword Order or the city itself. Given Bireon’s capabilities, it seemed entirely possible.
Bireon led them past the Coiling Sword Order’s temple and climbed a massive tree. Within its trunk was a knot large enough to shelter several people. Inside slept four figures: two female priests, one elderly male priest, and a man clutching a crooked blade.
The man with the blade sensed their presence and began to rise.
“You people…!”
He never finished standing. Bireon clamped a hand over his mouth, seized the sword with the other, and drove it into his heart.
“…Grrk.”
Elbridge surveyed the hollow and made a quick judgment. Fewer numbers than expected. The rest must have been taken into battle.
Five strangers had appeared without warning, and their sentry lay dead. The three priests who jolted awake from the commotion could only tremble, too stunned to speak.
Elbridge whispered, “I am Elbridge of the Rusty Shield Order. At Priest Isalbius’s request, I have come from Soleneon in the east.”
The moment Isalbius’s name left his lips, visible relief washed over the three priests.
Bireon gave orders with practiced ease. “Dicha. Rombel. Escort these people back.”
“Understood.”
So the subordinate’s name was Dicha. While Dicha accepted the command at once, Rombel turned back to Bireon.
“What about you lot?”
“The Coiling Sword Order will return soon. We’ll wait for them, then escape with the holy knights they took along.”
“Will you be all right?”
“Those Coiling Sword bastards left the castle yesterday afternoon to launch a surprise attack. They’ll come back empty-handed and exhausted. We’ll slip away with the prisoners while they sleep.”
Rombel caught the odd note in the explanation. “Empty-handed? How could you know that?”
“Because I leaked word of their planned attack to the other side. Even if they suspected a trick, they would still have prepared for an ambush.”
“Cunning bastard… Fine.”
Rombel clapped Bireon on the back, then helped carry the priests as they quietly descended the tree.
Marcus watched Rombel vanish into the darkness, then grumbled, “Just in case something goes wrong, wouldn’t it have been better if I left and Rombel stayed? His skills are clearly superior to mine…”
Bireon shook his head. “Rombel’s appearance is too distinctive. If things go south, he’d be easy to track. Besides, you said you follow the God of the Sunshower, didn’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then we need that luck more than they do.”
Every decision and action Bireon took was free of wasted motion. Elbridge found himself quietly impressed. A meticulous one, indeed.
My most cherished child. Your Goddess is no less than that.
The three remaining men hid among the temple’s rafters and waited. Sure enough, before long a great many footsteps approached from the direction of the temple—the Coiling Sword Order, masters of this city.
Behind them trudged the people of the Flowing Water Order, clearly worn out.
Many are dragging their feet. They’re all exhausted.
The voices that followed were sharp and laced with irritation.
“How did those Sinking Shadow bastards catch wind of it?”
“They must have planted spies. If there’s one thing those snakes are good at, it’s being underhanded…”
A shout soon rang from above the tree.
“Kadum is dead! The priests are gone!”
“It’s confirmed, then. This was all the Sinking Shadow Order’s doing. They leaked our plan, then snatched the priests and fled.”
“The two killed on the wall, and now Kadum—spies took them out too?”
“Obviously.”
“Bastards…”
Their reasoning fit the facts well enough. But something plausible is not always true.
A low, growling voice issued commands. “Rest for today. Tomorrow we’ll join hands with the other orders and wipe out every last Sinking Shadow rat. Hop, Hisha—you two stand guard on the wall tonight.”
“Understood.”
The presence of many people scattered in every direction. Several remained inside the temple, but they soon fell silent.
And all the while, Elbridge’s group remained boldly hidden in the rafters, listening to every word.
“If we dawdle, dawn will break. Let’s head down.”
The three descended and entered the room where the Flowing Water Order’s priests and holy knights had been confined. The captives were so drained from the forced march that they barely stirred even when Elbridge’s group entered.
“Please wake up.”
They roused the newly sleeping priests and holy knights of the Flowing Water Order. Nine people in total. All of them were groggy with exhaustion and sleep, but they managed to open their eyes.
Elbridge introduced himself. “I am Elbridge, come from Soleneon in the east. I am here to rescue you at Isalbius’s request.”
“Isalbius?”
Eyes that had been half-lidded snapped wide open at the name. It seemed Isalbius held considerable standing within the order.
Bireon spoke. “Isalbius asked the Silver Harpoon Apostles for help. We already rescued the three who were in the tree knot. Follow us quietly.”
The priests and holy knights of the Flowing Water Order rose without a word and shuffled outside on weary legs.
The outside world was still dark, and no other presence could be felt. Yet Elbridge’s heart hammered violently.
He had experienced many situations, but this was the first time he had ever rescued people from other people and fled with them.
Quietly. Quietly…
By the time the eastern sky began to pale, they reached the ramparts.
“Wait here a moment.”
Once again Bireon climbed the wall. Shortly after, he signaled from above. They ascended the inner stairs to find, as expected, two men slumped dead. They looked as if they had died in their sleep; their postures were almost peaceful.
Bireon lowered the usual rope down the outer wall.
“Let’s descend.”
Before long, everyone had slipped outside the ramparts. The holy knights and priests of the Flowing Water Order still wore dazed expressions.
“…I never imagined we would escape this easily.”
“It’s not over yet. Hurry.”
Elbridge’s group and the nine rescued individuals crossed the Great Forest toward their destination. Whenever the rescued grew too tired to walk, Elbridge, Bireon, and Marcus took turns carrying them.
We don’t know when pursuers will appear. We must move as quickly as possible.
Yet even as the sky brightened to full dawn, no pursuers came. The only living things they encountered on the return path were Land Boars rooting through the dirt. The creatures merely stared blankly at the party and never approached.
After Bireon and Elbridge’s group returned with the people of the Flowing Water Order, the rescued captives’ expressions grew noticeably more relaxed. At this rate, the entire order might truly side with Bireon.
Of course, Bireon’s plan was only beginning.
“The Coiling Sword Order declared they would attack the Sinking Shadow Order even if it meant joining hands with other orders. The partner they’ll choose is almost certainly the Stump Order. Those fellows…”
Elbridge listened to Bireon’s words with one ear and let them out the other. Coldly speaking, he had little interest in who claimed hegemony over the south. As long as the Flowing Water Order’s people were freed from slavery and he could naturally proceed to the Eternal Lake, that was enough.
Even though Elbridge openly showed disinterest, Bireon continued to treat him with boundless goodwill.
“…Right. This is my problem to handle. Instead of dry talk, shall we spar? We can loosen up a bit.”
Bireon’s open display of favor had begun the day after the rescue, when they had sparred out of boredom. Elbridge lost in unarmed combat but easily overpowered Bireon once weapons were drawn.
One win, one loss. It was the defeat that had ignited Bireon.
After being thoroughly thrashed by the flat of Elbridge’s scabbard, Bireon had looked at him with eyes that sparkled in a way that didn’t suit his fierce face. That expression alone told Elbridge everything he needed to know. Bireon had likely never met a true rival in his life.
“We already sparred this morning… I’ll pass for now.”
Fearing Bireon would pester him if he stayed, Elbridge slipped away.
He climbed the ramparts and let his legs dangle over the outer edge. As he sat there gazing at the Great Forest of the south, Isalbius naturally came and sat beside him.
Isalbius opened with talk of the Grand Tournament. “When we met in Soleneon, I found you quite detestable, Sir Elbridge… I never imagined things would turn out like this.”
“Such is the way of human affairs.”
“Because of that incident, I thought you would refuse my request. Strictly speaking, ours was closer to a bad connection than a good one.”
“I hold no ill will. If anything, I felt a little sorry.”
That was the plain truth. Elbridge felt neither particular goodwill nor animosity toward Isalbius. Even now, he had not come south out of pure kindness. He simply needed an excuse to reach the Eternal Lake, and the Flowing Water Order’s circumstances had been somewhat pitiful.
“By the way, you mentioned that the followers of the Flowing Water Order live near the Eternal Lake?”
Elbridge subtly steered the conversation toward the lake. That way, once matters here concluded, he could head there without it seeming forced.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Don’t priests and holy knights usually live near their followers?”
“That is… complicated.”
Isalbius wore a bitter smile. “The south is not kind land for people to live in. The area around the Eternal Lake is no exception. Our followers’ lives are always precarious. There is simply too much they lack.”
A harsh existence. Priests and holy knights living far from home. The power of healing.
The situation was easy enough to guess.
“So you came out to earn money.”
“Yes. We priests and holy knights heal people, use the earnings to purchase daily necessities, and send them back to the Eternal Lake region. Our attempt to expand into the east was for similar reasons. If we could establish ourselves in the bountiful east, we would be able to send back far more coin…”
Elbridge thought that Isalbius’s conduct was utterly unlike that of ordinary people in this era.
“Is there a reason you remain with the Flowing Water Order even at such cost?”
Elbridge spoke carefully so Isalbius would not misunderstand. Isalbius did not take the question amiss.
“Are you aware that most orders in the south worship their ancestors as gods?”
“I have heard rumors.”
It was one of the south’s defining traits. When a person accomplished a great deed and ascended, their clan would form an order, become clergy, and serve the ascended ancestor. Because orders were built on bloodlines, the south’s priests and holy knights were closer to nobility. Southerners saw nothing strange in this. Were holy knights not, after all, the kin of gods?
“The gods of the south cherish their followers because they share blood, or at the very least share a place of origin. But the God of the Flowing Water was different. He embraced every follower with love, regardless of origin.”
That much could be said of any order, but what followed was unusual.
“Every follower of the Flowing Water Order receives an oracle a few times in their lifetime. The first time I received one was after a girl my age rejected my confession. The God of the Flowing Water comforted me, telling me not to be disheartened.”
It was difficult to imagine. Most gods were sparing with oracles, and even then they usually delivered them only to archbishops. A deity who granted oracles to ordinary followers like the God of the Flowing Water was extremely rare.
When asked why, similar answers always returned: because the god wished to give weight to his words; because he conserved even a little divine power to share more with his followers; because he did not wish to show favoritism to any particular believer.
In that sense, the God of the Flowing Water had been an exceedingly unusual god. If every follower had received oracles multiple times…
“When my daughter was born, both my wife and I received oracles. They were not given out of idle curiosity or whim. The God of the Flowing Water remembers even the trivial stories of his followers and watches over us with warm eyes. He is a god, yet at the same time he is like a father to every one of his believers.”
The Goddess of the Rusty Shield, who had been listening quietly, sent a revelation.
My most cherished child. Your Goddess is no less than that.
“The Goddess of the Rusty Shield is also no less,” Elbridge relayed exactly.
The Goddess grew embarrassed.
That is not what I meant when I told you to speak of your Goddess to Isalbius. Elbridge…
Of course, Isalbius did not realize the words had been a divine revelation.
He smiled gently. “Then Sir Elbridge must understand as well. A god who bestows power as if striking a bargain with his followers is less precious than one who truly loves and cherishes them. It is only regrettable that nearly all gods are so busy they cannot spare attention for their believers.”
The healing authority possessed by the God of the Flowing Water was inferior to that of the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss. Logically, the followers of the Flowing Water Order should have migrated to the Spring Rain and Moss Order.
Yet by adding love and attention to his lesser authority, the God of the Flowing Water had managed to retain a single seat in the assembly until now.
The interest and love bestowed by a lofty heavenly god upon earthly beings was an overwhelmingly intense experience—so intense that it could prevent a person from ever turning to another order, so intense that it could make them choose to walk a thorny path to revive a ruined order rather than abandon it.
Elbridge recalled the day he had first received his Goddess’s oracle. The short conversation he had shared with the Goddess of the Rusty Shield that day remained vivid even two hundred years later. He would surely never forget it until the day he died.
And so, for the first time in his life, Elbridge harbored a question.
Why did the gods spare their oracles and hesitate to reveal their love for their followers?