A Path of One's Own
Marcus’s observation was sharp.
Yet unlike Marcus’s claim that the lake had lied, Elbridge kept the exact opposite possibility in mind.
What if Marcus’s most desperate wish had truly been the girl next door? What if Leonhardt had truly ascended to heaven carrying the shield?
Elbridge was not the only one entertaining such thoughts.
Rombel glanced at Elbridge, gave a small nod, then turned to Marcus.
“Marcus. Got a question for you. Is there anything you’ve craved more fiercely than that girl next door?”
“Money and fame…?”
Marcus’s answer cemented their conviction.
Because for something supposedly an intense desire, his reply was far too ordinary and half-hearted.
If what we just saw wasn’t false…
Just as the Lord of the Central Magic Tower had descended to the mortal realm, could the ascended Leonhardt have returned to entrust the shield once more?
Lord Leonhardt left the shield in the mountain city while the previous mayor was still alive.
If this guess was correct, it meant Leonhardt had come back down shortly after his ascension.
By now he would likely have grown old and died.
Elbridge’s thoughts branched in every direction.
Why had Leonhardt descended? What had he done after returning to the surface?
Elbridge absently ran his fingers over the shield.
If I put the shield back into the lake, could I see the rest of the memory?
As though reading his mind, Marcus spoke up.
“Sir Elbridge. The God of the Sunshower says you shouldn’t do anything stupid…”
“Stupid?”
“He says if you try peeking into heaven through loopholes, you’ll definitely pay for it.”
Elbridge. Before you rush into anything dangerous, it would be wise to seek your Goddess’s counsel first.
“Does Lord Leonhardt’s memory count as something dangerous?”
Elbridge answered the oracle even as he spoke, but neither Rombel nor Marcus found the sight strange. They both knew how close Elbridge and the Goddess of the Rusty Shield truly were.
I cannot whisper secrets of Leonhardt to you, but there is no fault in you taking interest in him. The true problem is that you nearly peered into heaven without the proper qualification.
Only those qualified to ascend may look upon heaven.
At least you and Rombel are better off. Having built up great deeds since ancient times, you might have been permitted the tiniest glimpse. But Marcus is different. Had the God of the Sunshower not intervened in time, Marcus would have faced grave consequences.
It seems the God of the Sunshower was the one who severed the memory floating on the water’s surface.
Moreover, Elbridge. Just because Marcus was in the greatest danger does not mean you and Rombel were safe. Consider how dearly your Goddess cherishes her one and only paladin.
The emotion in that voice was not rebuke or accusation, but pure worry.
Elbridge felt a flicker of embarrassment.
“Understood, Goddess.”
Good. I understand your curiosity about Leonhardt’s whereabouts… but do not rush. In all my long years, one thing your Goddess has learned is this: news you long for will always find its way to you in time.
That night, in a dark room with no candles lit, Elbridge lay on his bed lost in thought.
He was still pondering Leonhardt’s trail.
Then came the sound of Rombel tossing on the next bed.
Rustle.
Soon after, Rombel’s voice drifted over.
“Elbridge. Got a question.”
“What is it?”
“When you asked the lake to show your wish earlier. A temple appeared on the surface, right?”
“It did. Why?”
“The way I see it, the stronger the desire, the clearer the image the lake shows. Like how it showed Marcus’s wish…”
Marcus cut in immediately.
“That was the lake showing it wrong. I loved that lady purely.”
“Marcus. Swear on the God of the Sunshower and answer honestly. Can you even remember her face clearly?”
“…Damn it. I’m not the kind of man who falls in love with a face alone. I loved her kind heart and her clear voice.”
“I don’t know about the voice, but her heart was certainly kind.”
When Rombel teased him, Marcus grumbled for a moment before falling silent. He had realized that speaking up only made things worse for him.
Elbridge asked, “Anyway, why bring that up now?”
“The temple that appeared for your wish was unusually blurry. The people were blurry, the temple was blurry. The goddess statue was the only thing relatively clear…”
“What exactly are you asking?”
“Elbridge. Do you truly want to revive the order?”
The question could have been taken as offensive, but Elbridge caught the faint note of worry in Rombel’s voice.
“Even if it’s blurry, a wish is still a wish.”
“As blurry as the face of the girl who lived next door to Marcus, you mean.”
“Hey, Mister Rombel! Why are you dragging that up again?”
Marcus pretended to be angry, and both Rombel and Elbridge burst into laughter.
Once the laughter died down, Rombel continued.
“Anyway, I’ve always felt that way watching you since the old days. You do things because you have to, because you can. That sort of…”
He wasn’t wrong.
Ever since the distant past, Elbridge had found the weight of people’s expectations burdensome.
The same might be true of reviving the order.
The one saving grace was that, to Elbridge, the Goddess of the Rusty Shield remained special.
“You’re the strange one, Rombel. Most people’s wishes are probably as blurry as mine.”
With that, Elbridge closed his eyes.
Three days later, Elbridge’s party left the vicinity of the Eternal Lake.
Since it was no easy task for outsiders to break through the Great Forest and leave the south, Mayor Markellus had assigned Isalbius to them as a guide.
For Elbridge’s group, it was welcome news. After all, among the Order of the Flowing Water, the person they were closest to was Isalbius.
Yet something felt off. Isalbius looked profoundly depressed.
Just a few days earlier, when they had been heading to the Eternal Lake, he had seemed to regain some of his spirit.
But now his expression was as dark as it had been right after the God of the Flowing Water had turned into a demon.
Finally Marcus could no longer hold back.
“Mister Isalbius. Did something happen? You look terribly serious.”
Isalbius poured out his story as if he had been waiting for the question.
“Mister Marcus. I believed that everyone in our order revered the God of the Flowing Water with sincere hearts the way our priests and holy knights do.”
“They don’t?”
“When I explained to Lantern Keeper Markellus what had happened to the God of the Flowing Water, do you know what he said?”
“I don’t.”
“What a pity. He asked what we planned to do from now on.”
“…?”
When Elbridge’s party looked bewildered, Isalbius’s hands trembled with passion as he added more.
“The power of healing has vanished, so our priests and holy knights can no longer earn money. He told us to think about how the city would sustain itself going forward. Does that even make sense?”
“Wait. Surely that doesn’t mean…”
“Yes. He was telling us to discuss it among the priests and holy knights and find an order that can make money. That surely there would be a suitable place… To them, the God of the Flowing Water was simply one god among many.”
The disappointment must have been crushing; Isalbius’s voice cracked as he spoke.
Elbridge’s party was stunned.
This was even more shameless than what the White Backs had done at the end of last year.
At least the White Backs had only traded their own faith.
They had failed to let go of greed even in a desperate situation, but they had not sunk so low as to expose the very bottom of their humanity. Everyone is somewhat selfish and puts their own interests first.
But Markellus had placed not only his own faith but the devotion of every priest and holy knight on the bargaining table, without even asking their opinion.
Rombel exploded.
“You heard that and just endured it? If it were me, I would have thrown a punch first.”
Isalbius let out a deep sigh.
“In my heart, I wanted to. But what Markellus said isn’t entirely wrong. If we priests and holy knights stop earning money, the people’s lives will become difficult. We must find a way somehow…”
Marcus frowned.
“Why is it your job to worry about the villagers’ livelihood, Mister Isalbius?”
“Pardon? Well…”
“I watched the people of the city during our three-day stay. They seemed to be living decently enough.”
“That’s because we have been earning money and supplementing their needs until now. But from now on…”
Marcus cut Isalbius off.
“No, no. I’m saying two things. First, you have already done everything you could, Mister Isalbius. Second, not everyone who cries for help and says they’ll die is truly desperate.”
Marcus snorted.
“I learned one interesting thing while living as a mercenary. Do you know what it is?”
“I don’t.”
“Out of ten mercenaries, about seven claim they started the dangerous work to support their families. Their parents are old, the children are still young, their spouse is frail… that sort of story.”
“Hmm.”
“Of those who became mercenaries that way, roughly half die or suffer serious injury within three years. It’s only natural when they leap in unprepared, dreaming of striking it rich.”
“…A tragic thing.”
At Isalbius’s reply, Marcus shook his head.
“What I want to tell you comes after that. When a mercenary dies, his comrades usually pool together what little they can and send it to the family… It’s not much. At best, enough for one family to scrape by for a fortnight or a month. And do you know what happens once that money runs out?”
“They end up on the street? Starve to death…?”
Marcus waved his hand dismissively.
“Of course there are families like that. It breaks your heart to see. But in my experience, seven or eight out of ten manage to get by. The elderly parents take up sewing for pay, the frail spouse suddenly finds the strength to work, and the children grow up quickly and learn to fend for themselves.”
“…”
“Mister Isalbius, the people of that city were exactly like that. Leave them be. They will survive on their own. It won’t be as comfortable as before, but they’ll manage.”
Marcus was angrier than usual.
Elbridge could tell just from his expression that Marcus had seen countless mercenaries and families like that.
“They say many people mistake kindness for a right. But from what I’ve seen, that applies to the giver as well as the receiver. Aren’t you mistaking devotion for an obligation, Mister Isalbius? That is not your duty.”
“But the land is truly barren.”
“If the land is barren, they should leave. At the very least, I can guarantee it for the people of that city. Even if you, the priests, and the holy knights disappear, they will get by somehow.”
Elbridge recalled what Rombel had said the night before.
The idea that he had simply lived doing what he had to do, what he could do.
Elbridge himself was not sure how to take those words. But one thing was clear: Isalbius felt like someone similar to him.
That was why Elbridge asked.
“Mister Isalbius. Is there something else you want to do?”
“…There is. To be precise, it only came to me recently.”
“What is it?”
“Just as a god can turn into a demon, I want to find out if there is a way for a demon to return to being a god.”
The core left behind by the God of the Flowing Water. Isalbius had sealed it and kept it with him.
Rather than falling into despair and collapse, Isalbius had chosen to embrace an endlessly difficult, perhaps impossible hope.
Elbridge smiled.
Even if it was a dream close to impossible, there was beauty in dreaming a grand dream.
Elbridge thought that perhaps Isalbius was one step ahead of him.
“Mister Isalbius. Leave now.”
“Pardon? But guiding you all…”
“We can find the road somehow, so do not worry. But if you don’t leave now, I fear you will lose your way forever.”
Yet Isalbius shook his head.
“I cannot leave immediately.”
“Why not?”
“I want to inform the priests and holy knights of the order of my decision. We have suffered together, after all.”
“There is a way for that as well.”
Elbridge pointed north.
“The place where all roads meet. Go to Middlemarch. Then seek out the Lord of the Central Magic Tower.”
“I have never been to the Central region. And even if I went, someone of the tower lord’s stature would not meet someone like me…”
“If you give them our party’s name at the Central Magic Tower, they will meet you. The Lord of the Central Magic Tower will contact the priests and holy knights through the Southern Magic Tower. Moreover, the tower lord knows much about gods and demons, so he will be of great help to you, Mister Isalbius.”
Isalbius stopped walking.
He gazed north, toward where the Central Magic Tower would be.
After thinking for a long time, he bowed deeply to Elbridge’s party in gratitude.
“You help me until the very end. How can I ever repay…”
“If your dream comes true, Mister Isalbius, that will be the greatest repayment to me as well. Leave quickly, before your resolve wavers.”
Isalbius hesitated, then began walking north.
He took a few steps, looked back, walked a few more, looked back again.
He kept bowing in farewell.
Elbridge’s party waved to Isalbius as he departed first.
A person who had set a grand goal deserved a proper send-off.
When Isalbius finally disappeared from sight, Rombel grinned.
“Marcus, you really gave him an earful.”
“I couldn’t help it. Just listening made my stomach churn…”
The party chatted amiably as they resumed walking in the direction they had been heading.
Several days later, Rombel wore a grave expression.
“Now I understand why we needed a guide.”
Elbridge’s party had lost their way.