The Innkeeper's Son

Now that they knew someone had broken the seal, it was time to uncover their identity.

There was only one place likely to hold any clues about them: the space connected to the stone chamber.

Elbridge considered the two possible ways to reach the opposite chamber.

The first was to smash through the wall inscribed with mana circuits.

The second was to locate the entrance leading to the opposite passage.

Rombel chose the second option as if it were obvious.

"What if breaking the wall brings this whole place down on us? Let's find the other entrance."

The three of them headed straight back to the surface and began searching the area.

Before the time it would take to drink a cup of tea, Rombel had already found what he believed was the passage entrance.

"The direction and position seem about right... This must be it."

However, to Elbridge's eyes there was nothing that resembled an opening large enough for a person. The ground was simply slightly sunken.

"This is the entrance?"

"That's right. They collapsed it after they were done. See this support beam sticking out here?"

Rombel kicked at one corner of the depression with his short leg.

A wooden end thicker than an adult's forearm protruded slightly from the dirt.

"I see. The question now is how we get inside through the collapsed entrance..."

"Just because they collapsed the entrance doesn't mean the inside collapsed too. Especially not with support beams still in place. Just wait a moment."

Rombel unpacked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his bag. True to his dwarven nature, it was filled with every kind of tool imaginable.

Interchangeable wooden handles, hammer heads, small saws, and among them, a collapsible shovel.

Doesn't carrying all that around feel heavy?

Rombel assembled the shovel in the blink of an eye and began digging without asking for help from either Elbridge or Marcus. It seemed he had been quietly bothered by Marcus doing all the heavy lifting earlier.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Rombel's digging speed was terrifyingly fast. Even Elbridge and Marcus were impressed.

"Now I understand how the dwarves carved entire cities out of mountains..."

Before long, the intact space beneath was revealed.

The support beams holding up the ceiling and walls were in good condition. There seemed to be no risk of collapse.

However, a terrible stench wafted from inside.

"This smell..."

None of the three were unfamiliar with it.

After advancing roughly ten paces down the passage, three rotting corpses came into view. They had not yet turned to complete skeletons, but the decay was advanced enough to make for a very unpleasant sight.

"They were silenced."

Elbridge's group examined the small burial chamber.

There were no obvious clues. Of course, it was unlikely anyone would have left special hints in a tomb like this.

Naturally, their gazes turned to the bodies.

Whoever had silenced them had apparently removed anything that could identify the corpses. There were almost no possessions. At most, the clothes they wore. Even those were not in good condition. Several spots looked deliberately cut or torn away.

Still, there were clues from which to infer their identities.

"Cowhide shoes."

The wealthy wore soft calfskin, deerskin, or lambskin shoes. The poor preferred cheap but quickly worn goatskin. Cowhide shoes sat somewhere in the middle. These men had not been rich, but they had not been desperately poor either.

"The clothes are thick. They seem to have died in winter or early spring."

Since Elbridge had been released from the seal last spring, the timing matched perfectly.

But there were no other particularly noticeable details. While Elbridge and Rombel were debating whether they should examine the decayed bodies anyway, Marcus pulled out a pocket knife and tore open the corpses' outer garments.

"What are you doing?"

"Winter clothes often have separate linings. And... when adding those linings, it's fairly common for the order's emblem to be stitched in as well."

Where Marcus had cut the garment, near where it would rest against the heart, there were signs of added fabric.

It was worn and the pattern had blurred from the body's decomposition. But they could still make out what the emblem was.

It was a mid-sized order that steadily maintained its seats in the Heavenly Assembly.

It was also the perfect scale of order to investigate. If it had been something as large as the Golden Platter Order, it would have been difficult to identify which specific victims they were dealing with.

"We should look for a nearby village."

The god of the Brass Cup symbolized community, frugality, and travelers.

The victims were more likely to have come from a small village than a major city like Soleneon.

"Marcus, do you know any villages around here?"

"I've passed through several while taking requests... There's one that comes to mind. Let's head there first."

The three walked silently along the forest path.

Both Elbridge and Marcus were lost in their own thoughts and said nothing.

Apparently unable to endure the long silence any longer, Rombel finally spoke to Elbridge.

"Elbridge. What are you thinking about?"

"If they broke the seal, it means they gained something from it, right?"

"Presumably."

"What kind of benefit would make someone want to break that seal?"

Rombel thought for a moment before answering.

"Maybe there were demon worshippers. Those bastards are happy as long as they can release demons."

"Where would you find demon worshippers in this day and age? Besides, until recently most people in the east didn't even believe demons existed."

"Then... grave robbers or something."

Elbridge shook his head.

"No. It wasn't someone that sloppy. They knew exactly how to break the seal. And the fact that they dug a separate tunnel instead of entering the chamber... means they had some idea of my condition. They chose the back way because entering the chamber would have alerted me."

"That's pretty sharp for you."

Rombel had a habit of adding unnecessary jabs that earned him a beating.

When Elbridge turned to look at him, Rombel naturally fell into a defensive stance.

Since he wasn't in the mood for playful banter, Elbridge simply turned away without punishing him. Not that he lacked the confidence to break through the defense.

"Rombel. Who would benefit from releasing demons into the world?"

"Plenty of people. Someone who wants to destroy this region, idiots who think demons will give them treasure if they release them, people who just want the world to burn..."

"Be a little more realistic."

"Elbridge. Want me to tell you something interesting?"

"What?"

"The truth is, I know exactly who benefits most if that seal is broken. I even know which group gains the most."

"Who?"

"You and your order."

Elbridge naturally raised his fist, then stopped.

He realized Rombel's speculation wasn't a simple joke.

There was no need to explain what Elbridge himself would gain.

And the Rusty Shield Order's benefit was obvious. Less than a year after Elbridge emerged from the seal, an order that had held zero seats had reclaimed four. Anyone would find it suspicious. It looked as if they had prepared everything in advance before breaking the seal.

Elbridge's voice sank low.

"Rombel. Do you think I broke the seal myself?"

"No. But when you first appeared and said the seal had been broken, the one I suspected most was your goddess."

The Goddess of the Rusty Shield delivered her oracle in great agitation.

This time it was not a private message in Elbridge's ear, but a public revelation with the voice of a god resounding from the sky.

Rombel immediately fell to his knees and begged the Goddess of the Rusty Shield for mercy.

"Of course! That was merely a momentary suspicion! Having fought alongside the paladins of the Rusty Shield Order two hundred years ago, I quickly realized that the Goddess of the Rusty Shield firmly rejects demons!"

...

"Furthermore, the very fact that I can speak these words proves that I have completely cast off all doubt. If even a shred of suspicion remained in my heart, how could I possibly utter such things before the Goddess's only paladin?"

Thanks to Rombel's rambling, the innocent Marcus also knelt and trembled beside him.

The Goddess of the Rusty Shield delivered her oracle in a voice even more solemn than usual.

"Of course, Goddess!"

Once the Goddess's presence vanished, Rombel stood up and muttered quietly.

"...Wow, she was listening."

Immediately, another bolt of lightning struck. Crack!

Rombel dropped to his knees again at once.

"Aigo, this cursed mouth of mine! This Rombel does not doubt the Goddess in the slightest! When she had not a single believer at the time, how could the Goddess have dug a tunnel and broken the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seal? If there is a god in heaven of purest innocence, it is surely the Goddess of the Rusty Shield!"

There was no malice in Rombel's words.

But Elbridge thought the Goddess must have been somewhat hurt. After all, she considered the time when she had no believers to be a dark age.

"Understood!"

The Goddess of the Rusty Shield had delivered her final oracle in a deliberately dignified voice, but she would surely go complain to the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss today.

Elbridge decided he should ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠offer high-quality beer as soon as possible to soothe her heart.

Because of the two lightning strikes, their discussion could not continue.

The place Marcus led them to was a small village of roughly a hundred people.

Despite its modest size, there were carriages and carts here and there, and there was even one inn complete with a decent stable and warehouse.

Marcus explained why he had chosen this village.

"This village makes its living by catering to passing merchants, laborers, mercenaries, and travelers. Mercenaries looking for work come through often too... It's one of the few villages close enough to that stone chamber while also being a convenient place to hire people. There might be some connection between the village and those corpses."

The three headed for the inn.

Since the Brass Cup Order symbolized travelers, many innkeepers followed that god. It was convenient for Elbridge's group as well, since they needed a place to stay.

And right in front of the inn, Marcus discovered an interesting piece of paper.

"A by-election... This is the first time I've seen one."

It was a notice announcing a by-election to fill one of the vacant seats in the Heavenly Assembly.

It must have been one of the seats left empty when the God of the Flowing Water fell.

"...It has nothing to do with us. The vacancy occurred in the south, so the south will fill it."

With those words, Rombel entered the inn.

He immediately made eye contact with the dour-looking innkeeper.

Even though three customers had just walked in, the innkeeper looked slightly disappointed.

Elbridge glanced around the inn's interior.

There were many merchants and laborers eating dinner, and quite a few people drinking as well.

The three sat at a long table where they could face the innkeeper.

The innkeeper glanced toward the door before asking.

"Meal?"

"Both food and rooms. One room will be enough."

"Fine. The meal cost will be added to the room rate when you go upstairs."

The innkeeper gestured toward the kitchen.

The fact that he didn't ask what they wanted to eat suggested the menu was more or less fixed.

Elbridge looked at the other tables.

People were eating steamed potatoes, turnip stew, pieces of cheese, and brown bread.

Marcus slid some coins toward the innkeeper.

"Three mugs of beer as well. By the way, innkeeper, which god do you follow?"

"Me? I follow the god of the Brass Cup."

"Then, among the believers of the Brass Cup Order, have any gone missing lately?"

The innkeeper answered.

"In this village, the only ones who believe in the god of the Brass Cup are me and my wife."

"I see."

So it wasn't this village after all. Just as Elbridge was thinking that, the innkeeper brought their beer and food and added one more thing.

"It's been that way since my son left."

The group's expressions stiffened slightly. The innkeeper continued.

"Not to your taste? There's no other menu."

"Ah... No, it's not that the food doesn't agree with us. It just reminded me of old times. I'm a mercenary myself, you see."

When Marcus gave a suitable excuse, the innkeeper went on.

"He always said he didn't want to spend his whole life working at an inn... Then a friend brought him a job and he just up and left. He was always listening to the mercenaries' bragging, and it must have filled his head with nonsense."

"It's common for people to turn down honest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠work and go suffer elsewhere. When did your son leave, approximately?"

"Early winter two years ago... or was it late autumn? Around then, anyway."

Elbridge's group exchanged glances.

They couldn't be certain the innkeeper's son was one of the corpses. But the timing was far too perfect.

"...I've done a bit of mercenary work myself, so I know. In this line of work, the exciting and good days don't even add up to ten in a year. It's hard, you have to watch your back, and the money isn't as good as people think. It's about time for him to come to his senses and return."

As the innkeeper spoke, he kept glancing at the inn's entrance.

But no one opened the door and came in.

The three hesitated. The question Did you perhaps sew the order's emblem into your son's coat lining? hovered on their lips.

But none of them said it to the innkeeper. Sometimes in this world, not knowing was the kinder thing.

Glancing at the door while hoping for his son's return was better than accepting his death. Besides, they couldn't be sure the innkeeper's son was one of the three bodies.

"Where is this friend of your son's who brought him the job?"

"He left with him. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if there might be a job heading in the same direction."

"You can ask that fellow over there. He's usually the one who brings the work."

The innkeeper jerked his chin toward a blond man chatting with the mercenaries.

Blond was perhaps too generous a word. It was dry, straw-like, yellowish blond.

When Marcus walked over and sat down heavily beside the blond man, several mercenaries greeted him.

"Hey, isn't that Marcus? What have you been up to lately?"

"Whoa, Marcus! Did you get a new sword? Must've made some money, huh?"

Marcus ignored them and sat down beside the blond man.

The blond man looked slightly flustered.

"...Who are you?"

Marcus draped an arm around the man's shoulder.

"Shall we talk about a job?"