Two Sides of the Same Coin
When Arendt arrived at the Crown Prince's study, Cantares, Laios, and Priestess Lumiel were already there waiting to welcome him.
"Glad you could make it."
"It's been some time, Priestess Lumiel."
Cantares had spoken first, but Arendt brushed right past him and offered only a light bow to Priestess Lumiel.
"Welcome, Sir Arendt. We've been expecting you."
"What brings you here, Priestess, if I may ask?"
Though he found the young man's complete abandonment of courtesy—no greetings, no pleasantries, straight to business—nothing short of absurd, Cantares answered without complaint.
"The agenda for today's meeting. We've been in strategy sessions over this whole affair since this morning."
"Ah, I see."
The moment Arendt settled into the one unoccupied seat, Zereon appeared and set a teacup down in front of him.
"It's a little frightening how used to this scene I'm getting."
"Why? Is there a problem?"
"......"
Well, no ordinary apprentice knight would be able to sit so calmly in a gathering like this.
Who would have imagined that the sight of a green apprentice knight casually sipping tea in the presence of Priestess Lumiel, the Crown Prince, and Commander Laios would one day feel normal?
Zereon answered with an awkward smile in place of words. The Crown Prince and Priestess Lumiel, for their part, could more or less guess what their aide wanted to say, and simply let vague smiles slip past.
Basking fully in the stares directed at him, Arendt brazenly declared, "You don't need to stare. I already know I'm handsome."
"......"
"......"
"......"
The greatest victim of occasions like this was Laios, whose stomach churned every time the apprentice knight below him opened his mouth and spat out a remark.
In the end, it was Laios who raised the matter at hand.
"About Warren. The things he's done over the years deserve real punishment, but we've decided to take into account the significant contribution he made during this operation."
"Hm."
The reaction was lukewarm, but when Laios saw Arendt's gaze settle on him, it seemed the young knight was actually listening seriously. Relieved, Laios continued.
"His primary duty under Rebecca was executing defectors, and most of the victims turned out to be criminals whose identities couldn't even be confirmed. That means we couldn't find concrete evidence of murder."
That much was only natural. If Warren had laid a hand on the Security Department or ordinary civilians, the situation would have become impossible to manage.
There had been the occasional blackmailed noble or merchant as well, but none of them had died—and exposing Warren's crimes would have required every one of them to confess their own wrongdoing first. So they had all clamped their mouths shut.
"His assault on imperial knights is a serious offense, but since he ended up cooperating with us, we intend to overlook that part. Still fine with you?"
"He got back what he dished out, so it's fine."
Arendt nodded, popping one of the cookies on the table into his mouth.
Cantares muttered, pressing hard at his temples. "If anything, Warren got the worse end of it. Of all the people to mess with, he had to pick that lunatic."
"So what was the final ruling?"
"Release, for now. In exchange, he reports his whereabouts to the palace on a regular basis and wears a Summary Execution Bracelet. And if the imperial family summons him, he comes to lend his strength immediately."
Cantares wrapped things up in Laios's stead.
"Commander Laios will handle his overall management. He'll be released this evening, so go see his face or whatever it is you want to do."
"There's nothing pretty about him. No thanks. Besides, as it happens, someone wanted to adopt a large dog, so I've already handled the handover. That person will be taking him. The doghouse is probably already built, too."
The subject was unclear, but the meaning came through loud and certain.
The Crown Prince made a face of pure disbelief. "You do realize the Neumann Merchant Guild isn't some kind of daycare?"
"This time it was the guildmaster who brought it up first, not me. He's apparently in great need of hands for a new venture as it is."
Of course, the one who had raised the subject first had been Arendt himself.
He had sent a letter brimming with the glorious exploits of the Video Recording Stone, casually floating the question, Turns out I've got a big dog on my hands. Want him?
He'd assumed a man with such a dazzling track record would refuse, but to his surprise, Neumann had been overjoyed. He was in the process of assembling personnel for his intelligence division, and he'd been short on combat-capable staff anyway.
Better still, Warren had firsthand experience of the world's rough underbelly, and having lived under Rebecca's shadow, his face was almost entirely unknown. For Neumann, he was a tailor-made asset.
If anything, Arendt had been the one to reach out first and ask whether he was really sure. But Neumann had answered with a radiant grin: "Anyone introduced by Sir Arendt is obviously trustworthy!"
Apparently, Priest Declan had left quite the favorable impression on him as well.
Priestess Lumiel, who had been listening to the conversation in silence, posed a question. "And what of their remnants?"
"We're rooting them out one by one, but the organization was so large that it will take time. No temple similar to the one found in that castle has been discovered yet."
"That reminds me—what became of that temple?"
Arendt asked the question over the rim of his teacup and turned toward Priestess Lumiel, but once again it was Cantares who stepped in.
"Since it was the first Evil God Cult temple ever confirmed, the investigation will continue—but at High Priest Theodore's request, part of the information is being kept from the public."
That "part," of course, meant everything related to the god Tchernion.
"We must keep public curiosity from gathering beyond what is necessary. His Majesty the Emperor has agreed to this as well."
Even as he said it, Cantares didn't look entirely comfortable with the arrangement.
Arendt studied him for a moment, then delivered an honest, cutting blow. "Is it because the God Luce and the god Tchernion look so much alike?"
"You really don't have a shred of... No. Never mind. I'm the idiot for even asking."
Cantares, grumbling about blasphemous bastards and the like, pressed his temples again.
"That's most likely it. Though I suppose we may be reading too much meaning into it."
"It could become a threat, after all."
Priestess Lumiel added with a kindly, if slightly bitter, smile. "It may well slow the investigation somewhat, Sir Arendt, but it is a rather important matter."
"I understand. I just don't much like it."
Wearing his displeasure openly, Arendt shrugged. "More than merely resembling each other, to my eye they looked exactly like two sides of the same coin."
"......"
The priestess's bitter smile deepened a shade. From that reaction, Arendt gathered the general shape of the situation.
"So that's precisely what makes it a problem."
"Having to weigh factors beyond mere faith is a truly shameful thing for a priest."
The elderly priestess nodded slowly.
"Among the old documents in the temple's possession, there are records concerning the God of Darkness. I myself am not granted access to them, but some time ago the High Priest spoke of them to me directly."
"So the temple—no, forgive me. The High Priest had already suspected that this was another name for the Evil God?"
Only now did Arendt fully understand why High Priest Theodore had reacted so acutely when the first traces of the Evil God Cult had been uncovered.
If it became known that Tchernion was not merely some "Evil God," but a deity whose name stood equal to the God of Light, the standing of the Temple of Luce could not escape unscathed.
"Whether it's fortune or misfortune, almost none of the records from that era survive. Even the reason he transformed into an Evil God and tried to annihilate the world remains unknown."
"What did the documents left in the Great Temple contain?"
"Many gods dwell in this land besides Lord Luce. Just as most of us humans serve Lord Luce, the other races serve different gods."
Priestess Lumiel answered Cantares's question with calm deliberation.
"The documents the High Priest discovered were left behind by an ancient traveler of another race, and amounted to no more than brief mentions of the various faiths that existed in this land."
"And of those, the only one singled out as 'evil' in the modern age is the sect of Tchernion?"
"There were certainly sects classified as heretical as well, but—yes. That is correct."
To Arendt's abrupt interjection, the priestess once again nodded.
The temple's image rose in his mind once more.
The murals and carvings like planets strewn across a night sky, the underground chamber untouched by a single ray of light. The black-and-white patterned floor spiraling like a vortex that swallowed light itself... and the beautiful figure of Tchernion, as if a single piece of darkness had been carved free and given form.
They're practically announcing it, aren't they.
That this body was the God of Darkness.
Lost in that idle thought, Arendt opened his mouth on impulse.
"Do gods ever speak to people directly?"
"Pardon?"
Priestess Lumiel's eyes went round. As gazes of bewilderment—and unease—converged on him, Arendt shrugged with perfect nonchalance.
"Just curious, that's all."
"You truly are a blasphemous little... though at this point I can't even manage admiration."
Along with Cantares's groan, Laios was visibly pressing a hand against his chest, as if his stomach had finally begun to turn. Even Zereon, normally a master of composure, was breaking into a sweat.
If I told them I heard Tchernion's voice, they'd all collapse on the spot.
Not that he had any intention of saying it.
Amid the commotion, Priestess Lumiel answered serenely.
"There are such records, yes. It is said the chosen may hear the voice of their god. Now that the Evil God Cult has revealed itself, should the Sacred Sword respond, another such example would be born—but for now..."
"You mean the founding Emperor was the only one, Your Highness aside?"
"Yes, that is so."
The next example would presumably be Laios... supposedly.
Thinking that far left an even sourer taste in his mouth. Besides, the voice he himself had heard hadn't exactly been a grand, awe-inspiring entrance.
It was more the sort of line that suited a moment when you bumped shoulders with a stranger passing by, turned to look—and found you knew their face.
Cantares, arms crossed, added his piece.
"But honestly, I don't think it would be a desirable thing at all. Either way, it would mean the situation had grown bad enough for a god to step in directly."
"I agree on that point as well. The birth of a hero is a splendid thing, but the parent of a hero can only ever be an age of calamity."
Priestess Lumiel nodded too.
"That said, if you want to stop a calamity, you start by crushing the enemy standing right in front of you."
At that, Arendt cut in abruptly, steering the conversation elsewhere.
"The enemy in front of us?"
"The Pervert Mask who came to reinforce Rebecca. The one called Blake."
At the name, Laios's expression stiffened faintly.
"We did tell you not to push your luck and pursue him."
"Right. He seemed likely to surface somewhere else sooner or later, and chasing him down then and there didn't promise much of a payoff."
Whether a pursuit would have ended in capture was very much an open question. He was a man of such caliber that even Warren and Arendt attacking together would have struggled to handle him.
"Which is exactly why I'm here, Your Highness."
"It makes me nervous when you call me that."
At the pointed undertone, Cantares visibly recoiled, and Arendt flashed a sly, mischievous smile.
"Lend me a hand, would you? Oh, and a generous budget and some people, too."
Laios averted his gaze, as if he simply could not bear to watch.
"I will be enrolling you in etiquette lessons again."
"Spare yourself, Commander Laios. I gave up on that long ago."