A Visit to the Temple of War
Bayul finished breakfast with a heavy heart and headed straight for the temple. Had he been in Carrington, Ian would have trailed after him as his escort knight, but this was Hamilton.
Hamilton, Bayul's hometown, sat at the very edge of the empire in the frigid north. Compared to Carrington it lagged behind in every respect, and yet it was Duke Randert who had nurtured this barren land into the foremost city of the north. Swordsmen had flocked to Hamilton in search of the man known as the living legend of the empire, and the Duke made certain the city's order was kept so strictly that every one of them could walk the streets at night in perfect safety. Taxes were levied evenly according to income, and not a whisper of corruption ever stained his stewards — an honest city through and through. Save for its frequent droughts and floods, it could rightly be called the most livable region in the entire empire.
Bayul was the sole son and heir of Duke Randert, the symbol and pride of that very Hamilton.
The ducal banner fluttering from his carriage might as well have been invincible here. Wherever he went alone, his safety was assured — if anyone so much as laid a hand on Bayul, the territory's own people would seize the culprit and beat him half to death before the guards ever arrived. Such was the absolute, beloved authority of House Randert in Hamilton.
"Woof! Woof!"
"Hey there, Jasper. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Jasper barked with his face pressed against the carriage window, and the heat of his breath fogged the glass.
"I used to travel this road so often, once upon a time…."
He couldn't fathom why it felt so unfamiliar today. The ground was sodden with mud, but nothing had changed. If anything had changed, it was Bayul himself — the heart with which he approached the temple was nothing like the heart he'd carried before.
Because I'm no longer a patient.
"You're not sick anywhere, so why are we going to a temple?"
It was then that Death asked abruptly. Just before departure, Death and Amon had tagged along, claiming they wanted to see the Temple of War, so the carriage currently held four: Bayul, Jasper, Death, and Amon.
"I'm going to pay my respects."
"Your respects?"
"I was frail from a young age, so I received treatment at the temple all the time."
"You look healthy enough. Strange."
"Heh. Do I?"
Bayul found himself laughing without quite meaning to. It was the first time in his life anyone had said such a thing to him.
"Why are you laughing?"
Death's voice came out strained, as if he'd taken the laugh the wrong way.
"Ah — no, I'm just not used to hearing it, so don't misunderstand. I look like this now, but as a child I was a hopeless weakling. I collapsed at the drop of a hat."
Back then, he never would have dreamed the day would come when he could speak of that past so lightly.
"The priests at the temple always helped me through it. Aside from the capital, I probably spent more time at the temple than anywhere else in Hamilton."
His body no longer needed treating, but he couldn't come all the way to Hamilton and fail to pay a visit. Even if everything that had gone wrong had sprung from a misidentification of spirits, the care and effort those people had lavished on Bayul had been genuine. Whatever ill effects divine power had wrought, he could not bring himself to resent them for it.
"What god do you believe in, Death?"
"…What?"
At Bayul's ambush of a question, Death betrayed an uncharacteristic flicker of panic. This was the man who was ordinarily so shamelessly, infuriatingly full of himself — the very reason Rita's temper blew so often — that for a moment Bayul wondered if he'd stumbled onto something he shouldn't have asked.
"I heard Carrington has all sorts of temples. I've only ever visited the Temple of Despair myself."
"…The ones at the Academy, you mean?"
"Yes, I stopped by a few times by chance, and it turned out to be quite fri—"
Bayul nearly blurted out that he'd grown fond of it before he could stop himself. It wasn't any great secret, but Death knew nothing of warmth or fellowship, so caution seemed the better part of wisdom.
"Why do you keep stopping mid-sentence?"
"It's nothing, just…."
"Was the Temple of Disappointing, then?"
"…?"
"It must have been far better than this Temple of War here."
Or was it his imagination? For an instant, Bayul got the distinct impression that Death was somehow angry.
"Didn't you say this was your first time in Hamilton?"
Death had claimed to want to see the temple — that was the whole reason he'd come along. Yet the way he compared the two places carried the unmistakable air of a man who had visited before.
"I believe my elder brother put it that way because the God of Despair outranks the God of War," Amon cut in quietly, eyes closed, gazing out the window.
"Outranks him?"
"Yes. The God of Despair is ninth in the Demon Realm's line of succession and serves as commander-in-chief of the Demon Emperor Crudelis's armies."
"Oh, is that so? Still, it seems odd for the God of Despair to be the commander-in-chief when there's a separate God of War."
"The God of War, Agos, is a Demon God ranked twelfth — a full three steps below the God of Despair. A dull-witted creature who knows nothing but war."
"…Pardon?"
For a moment, Bayul doubted his own ears. A dull-witted creature? No matter who heard it, that was hardly the sort of thing one said about a god.
"Dear me — forgive me, that was a slip of the tongue. I read it in a book somewhere and went and repeated it verbatim."
"Ah…."
Bayul burned to know what sort of book that could possibly be, but he let it go and accepted the explanation.
"To elaborate a little: there are far more gods in this world than are commonly known. Most of the gods humans worship are said to be rather fond of showing off. Some of them even parade their power about to gather followers."
That was news to Bayul. He'd frequented the temple often enough, but he'd never actually studied the gods. Indeed, outside the priesthood, few people ever read the holy scriptures at all.
"You may take the God of War, Agos, to be one such god. True to his title, he is said to always take the vanguard whenever war breaks out."
"I see. Have you studied theology, by any chance?"
"…I simply enjoy reading."
Amon smiled faintly with his eyes still closed. A blind man couldn't read on his own, so someone must have read aloud to him — and Bayul couldn't help wondering who that someone might be.
"Young Master, we've arrived."
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the driver announced their arrival at the temple.
"Here at last."
At the thought of seeing familiar faces again, Bayul's spirits lifted at once.
"Let's go, Jasper."
The carriage door swung open, and Jasper bounded out first with Bayul quick on his heels.
"Shall we go have a proper look around ourselves, then?"
"What if Agos notices?"
"What do you mean, what if? We just play dumb and ignore him."
"He'll raise no end of fuss about how we went and left him out, all alone."
"Let him fuss. Doesn't matter to me either way."
What was that, in the grand scheme of things?
"If he gets to be too much of a nuisance, I'll knock him around a few times and be done with it."
He was already lying low with his head aching over treaties and whatnot. On top of that, everyone here was already rubbing him the wrong way — Heaven only knew what Death might do if someone poked the wrong nerve.
"Anyone who stands between me and my meals doesn't get mercy. None."
Death's black eyes gleamed with a murderous light, as if to say he wouldn't spare even the Demon Emperor himself.
"Father Juan!"
"Goodness! Young Master Bayul, arriving without so much as a word of notice — what a surprise this is!"
At the knock followed by Bayul's entrance, Father Juan startled and came hurrying over at once.
"I did hear you'd be returning for the holiday. I was planning to call on you before long myself, and here you've come to me first — is your health troubling you again?"
True to his role as the man who had overseen Bayul's health all these years, Father Juan checked on his condition before anything else. Bayul looked hale on the surface, but one could never be too sure, and worry flashed across the old priest's face immediately.
"No, nothing like that. I just stopped by to say hello."
"Ah, is that all!"
"Yes. There isn't a single spot on me that hurts, apparently."
"That is the finest news I've heard in an age."
Only when Father Juan had breathed his sigh of relief did he finally invite Bayul to sit.
"Woof! Woof!"
Jasper, who had been wagging his tail since the moment they stepped inside, eventually barked in frustration when Father Juan showed no sign of noticing him.
"Jasper!"
At last catching sight of the dog, Father Juan stroked his head and flanks.
"So you came along too! My eyes have been failing me lately — I miss things now and then. But enough of that, I must go fetch you a treat right away!"
Every visit to the temple had always come with a delicious treat for Jasper. It wasn't a scheduled visit, so nothing had been prepared, but there was surely dried meat in the dining hall that could be spared for him.
"Elder."
"Yes, Father. Right away."
The monk on duty vanished before Father Juan had even finished giving the order, and returned a short while later with two cups of warm tea and Jasper's snack.
"Thank you."
Bayul sat across from Father Juan for the first time in a long while and took a sip of his tea. Jasper lay down obediently at his feet as always, happily enjoying his treat.
A peaceful moment.
Old memories seized Bayul, somehow.
"This place hasn't changed a bit."
Father Juan's office was exactly as he remembered it. The furniture, the books — everything sat precisely where it always had. Merely looking around put his heart at ease.
"How have you been faring in Carrington? Summer must be beginning there by now."
"Yes, they say the heat is at its height. It's a very different place from Hamilton."
A Hamilton summer was, by Carrington standards, autumn weather. With rain even falling now, temperatures sat far below the seasonal average.
"Carrington's gentle climate is famous far and wide, of course. Hamilton, too, ought to find its stability again soon…."
Speaking of it drew a sigh from him despite himself. It was a happy reunion, and he'd wanted to share only glad news — how unfortunate that reality wouldn't allow it.
"The rain has thrown Hamilton into quite an upheaval, hasn't it? With accidents happening practically every day, I imagine the temple must be terribly busy."
"Busy? What does busy matter. What grieves me is that we can't treat the sick when they need it."
"Are there that many patients, then?"
"It's less the patients than the shortage of herbs. We tend them as diligently as we can, but keeping the herb gardens alive has become a struggle."
"…Herb gardens?"
"Yes. This rain has left the temple's beloved herb gardens in ruins. Heaven only knows how long the restoration will take… Hoo, what a worry."
Over this very matter, the bishop himself had traveled to another region on temple business. In treating the sick, blending and applying the right herbs to match the severity of each illness was, in truth, every bit as vital as divine power itself. That was why most priests began studying herbology diligently from their days as novice monks.
"Where are the herb gardens?"
"Why do you ask?"
At Bayul's out-of-the-blue question, Father Juan's face filled with puzzlement.
"I'd like to take a look, and help out if there's anything I can do."
"Oh no, no. That is no work for a young master. It is treacherous labor indeed."
"Everyone's so busy, though. And I didn't come alone — I have two able-bodied servants waiting outside. Now that I'm here, I'd like to do my part before I go."
At Bayul's side stood Shame, more expert in matters of herbs than anyone alive. Hadn't Shame's help carried him to a perfect score in an herbology exam — and to a championship, no less?
What he didn't know, he couldn't grieve over. But now that he knew, he couldn't simply stand by and watch.
As Father Juan said, illness treated in time heals fastest. If not for his own sake, then for the sake of the ailing people of the territory, Bayul had to step forward.