180. Summit Meeting
180. Summit Meeting
The summit had begun.
The ostensible reason was a conference where fewer than ten genuine Masters on the entire continent gathered to discuss a brighter future for the world, but
the real purpose was to establish a forum to mediate between the exceedingly rare Masters so they didn't annihilate each other or spark wars through infighting.
Up until just ten years ago, the Empire had been waging war against every neighbor bordering its territory as it aggressively expanded, and most of the Masters here today were people who had clashed with the Director at least once each during that time.
Some, like Sword Saint Adolf, had interfered and nearly died. Others had simply wandered and never crossed paths with her. And there were even those who had somehow managed to fight her to a draw.
Each of them represented the interests of their own faction, so their emotional rifts ran deep—if anything, being genuinely friendly with one another was profoundly difficult.
In truth, the summit was, at its core, a social gathering for Masters held under the auspices of the Holy See.
As Masters who were essentially humanity's last line of defense, it would be nice if they got along, but as representatives advocating for their own factions' interests, doing so was far from easy.
[This session's agenda concerns the Demon Church.]
"Fussing over insects like that—seems the Church truly has nothing better to do these days.
If you have that much time on your hands, how about resolving the drought plaguing our alliance instead? You know full well that abandoning peasants who can't even feed themselves makes them vulnerable to those whispers."
The moment McIntosh spoke, Edmund sneered.
Come to think of it, a memory surfaced—just before I entered the academy, I'd heard news in the capital that a severe drought had struck the Five Kingdom Alliance.
'It was criticism about how the nobles and the so-called Master were partying on the grass while the drought was devastating, wasn't it?'
Hearing him speak like that was baffling, but for now I decided to remain silent.
Three of us speaking at once would only breed chaos, so I resolved to let the Director speak first and only open my mouth when my turn came.
[I had intended to raise that as a topic as well... Very well, since it has come up, let us discuss it first.
A severe drought is ravaging the Five Kingdom Alliance. The Holy See is conducting relief activities for the faithful, but it is insufficient to save the starving populace.
Is there any nation willing to provide additional support to the Five Kingdoms?]
McIntosh spoke solemnly, but no one reacted—everyone merely glared at Edmund.
Hulan stirred at the mention of saving lives, but there was little he could do about a famine caused by drought, and he seemed intent on gauging the atmosphere first.
The first to speak up was Rui, the Master of Pilaha.
"If it's not raining, can't they just ask the mages to produce some water? There are large-scale ritual magics that summon rain, aren't there?"
"That won't be nearly enough."
Magic was not omnipotent.
It appeared to create something from nothing, but magic, too, was merely a single Law—one that produced results by consuming resources.
There were places that employed magic for irrigating fields, but even then it could barely cover the scale of a single farm.
Resolving a national-scale drought entirely through magic was exceedingly difficult.
Even if it were possible, it would consume a staggering amount of resources.
'But that's a story limited to ordinary mages... For Hohenheim, the Master of Magic, coming up with a solution wouldn't be that difficult—yet she's deliberately pretending not to notice.'
To my knowledge, a problem like this would be trivial for Hohenheim, the Master of Magic.
Perhaps she simply disliked it, or resented being asked for help without any compensation, or maybe she just found it bothersome—there could be any number of reasons, but for the moment she seemed utterly disinterested.
She merely leaned her arms on the table, dozing off and nodding.
But what Edmund was saying was just as strange.
If the drought was severe enough to persist for months and trigger a great famine, I had heard nothing about the Five Kingdoms actually doing anything about it.
The Five Kingdoms bordered the Empire, so if a major event had occurred, newspapers would surely have been distributed in the capital.
"The Church is already providing support—must we do so as well?"
"It's insufficient, I tell you. I heard the Empire had a bountiful harvest again this year?
Rumors are rampant that the wheat piled up in your granaries is rotting away... You clearly have plenty to spare? How about a bit of charity for the pitiful people of our alliance?
If you do it now, I shall personally bestow upon you my 'gratitude.' My thanks are exceedingly valuable, you know?"
"Five heads gathered together and yet you can't even resolve a single drought on your own... Is the intelligence of each one below one-fifth of the average?"
To Edmund's mockery, the Director drove in a verbal dagger.
She drove it in so bluntly that everyone's eyes widened.
"Say that again, huh?"
The oily grin on Edmund's face froze.
It was a warning that crossing the line further would not be tolerated, but the Director, as if daring him to do exactly that, continued speaking.
"A brat who can't even solve his own country's problems, whining and begging for money from the Holy See—whose territory is several times smaller—or the Empire, his former enemy,
and yet he sits here calling himself a fellow Master. It's so shameful I'd be mortified to even call myself a Master."
"Why you...!"
Veins bulged on Edmund's forehead as his hand moved toward his waist.
In sync with that movement, the Director's eyes rolled slowly.
Having clashed with her several times, I had a sense of what she was thinking.
The Director's sword guard had risen slightly—just a fraction—above the hilt.
The moment his hand truly touched the hilt, the guard would launch and pierce Edmund's heart.
[ENOUGH!!]
A booming voice accompanied by a sweltering heat echoed through the vast conference hall.
McIntosh, who had been watching in silence, could no longer stand by and intervened.
The roar of the great red dragon that followed raged like a typhoon.
Several chandeliers and frames hanging from the ceiling fell, and the pillars trembled violently as if an earthquake had struck.
In the dictionary, this was a technique classified as Dragon Fear—a roar that could affect even armies—yet not a single person in the conference hall was swept away.
Though their clothes and hair were left in disarray, everyone promptly straightened their attire.
[Since none of you seem capable of constructive thought, let us conclude this topic here. Edmund... The Holy See's support is for the sake of the innocent people dying.
I am not unaware that the nobles and royalty of the Five Kingdoms are handling this crisis negligently.
If you wish to request help from others, how about first adopting a posture befitting such a request.
And Linda... The Empire's dominion now stretches as if it knows no bounds, but the Empire, too, may face hardship at any time. For the sake of such times, at least speak a little more gently...!]
"Even if such a situation arose, I would never find myself needing to ask help from someone like him."
"What does it matter to me if the lower classes die off? What, should I go out and personally harvest wheat for the common folk?"
Faced with the two Masters' thoroughly barbed replies, McIntosh looked deeply weary.
Judging by McIntosh's reaction, this was how it went every time.
[In that case... the next topic concerns the 'Clover Kingdom'...]
"It is the Clover 'Territory.' It has been annexed by the Empire and is no longer a kingdom, so there is no need for elevated address."
The Director cut off McIntosh's words.
The Clover Kingdom, which had perpetrated a terrorist attack on the Empire's academy, had been devastated by the Holy See's forces dispatched to search for traces of demons, and by the Empire's soldiers, blinded by vengeance, after losing its Master.
The Clover Kingdom's royal family had successfully negotiated—by obediently handing over all evidence of Adolf's collusion with the Demon Church, they were granted Imperial nobility and incorporated into the Empire.
[Yes, let us proceed with the discussion regarding the Clover Territory. You are all aware that the Sword Saint is dead, yes? He was a Demon-touched.]
"Ah, the Sword Saint...! He was not quite my equal, but a noble Master nonetheless... And such a man was seduced by demons and became a Demon-touched?
Are you telling me to believe that?? Is this not simply an Imperial scheme to swallow the Clover Kingdom whole?"
When the Sword Saint was mentioned, Edmund raised his voice.
The Sword Saint and Edmund had been close.
They say opposites attract—apparently, there had been a bond of friendship between those two arrogant bastards who thought only of their own greatness.
It was gradually becoming time for me to step forward.
"Then believe it. What changes just because you alone refuse to?"
Whatever else was true, regarding this incident, I, as the one directly involved, had to speak.
As I, the Shadow, voiced my opinion for the first time, everyone's attention focused on me.
"You... You're the Shadow. If this is your first attendance, listen quietly to what your seniors have to say."
"I am the one who cut off the Sword Saint's breath."
When I said I'd taken the Sword Saint's life, the hall stirred.
"...Not the Imperial Sword, but you, the Shadow?"
"....."
It had been reported only that an Imperial Master had brought down the Sword Saint—only the Holy See had been properly aware that it was the Shadow.
While the other Masters were all aware that the Shadow caused various incidents from the unseen places, the fact that it was the Shadow who had claimed the Sword Saint's head seemed to shock them.
"You brought down the Sword Saint... I'll accept that. So, what is it you want to say? What, do you want a commendation?"
The drowsy Hohenheim opened her eyes narrowly and stared at me.
"What I'm proposing isn't anything grand. How about the Masters, from now on, periodically receive baptism as well?"
The atmosphere in the room turned icy.
Baptism was a purification ritual using holy water.
The method varied—pouring it over the head, immersing the body—but the meaning of purification through water remained the same.
As a ritual for washing away committed sins and repenting, the Church gathered people at regular intervals to perform it, but it carried one additional meaning.
Demon-touched who had contracted with demons could not endure this baptism.
They already had difficulty tolerating holy water poured on their bodies, and when combined with the purification ritual, they suffered the agony of their bodies burning, thereby revealing themselves as Demon-touched.
Suggesting that this ritual—which even regular churchgoers were not forced to undergo—be made mandatory held only one implication.
'I suspect that you, too, might be Demon-touched, so prove otherwise.'
The eyes of the Masters under suspicion sharpened dangerously.