The Uncooling Heart
Cantares's resolution was carried out that very night, in the worst possible form.
"Your Highness."
"……What."
"This might sound odd coming out of nowhere, but."
Arendt, standing with a lopsided tilt to his posture, paused for a moment, tilting his head as if carefully selecting his words.
"You're really in bad shape. How can anyone be this weak?"
"……"
Confronted with a jab he couldn't possibly refute, Cantares pressed his lips shut.
This was the Crown Prince's private training grounds. Cantares, the undisputed master of the place, sat slumped on the floor in a pathetic heap, barely managing to catch his breath. Arendt, by contrast, had worked up only a light sheen of sweat and stood there without a single hair out of place.
Cantares, hoping for a fresh start after so long, had arrived early and been practicing his swordsmanship. Then he'd happened to cross paths with Arendt, who had likewise come a little early…
After a brief exchange of petty bickering, an impromptu sparring match had broken out… and the result was exactly this.
"Damn it, how did I not even graze you?"
"When you spend every day glued to paperwork at your desk, how could you? That's why you're supposed to exercise in whatever free time you have."
"Have you never heard the story of the loyal retainer who died from being right all the time?"
At the insufferable remark, Cantares let out a strained groan.
He'd been away from the sword for quite a long time, but he hadn't expected to be so utterly one-sidedly outmatched. He'd taken a certain pride in his own skill, and this was the moment that pride shattered to pieces.
Cantares gathered up the sword he'd tossed carelessly aside and hauled himself to his feet.
"I hear you've been practically welded to the training grounds every spare moment lately."
"There's not much else to do, and if I want to live long, I have to keep training."
"Is that the survival strategy of a guy who enjoys being hated?"
"Being hated is still attention, isn't it? It comes with a modest price tag, though."
"You're insane."
The vicious retort came back instantly, but Arendt didn't so much as pretend to hear it.
Just then, the door to the training grounds opened and Laios and Zereon walked in. The two, intending to greet them as usual, came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the Crown Prince and the apprentice knight, as if an unspoken agreement had passed between them.
The sword still out of its sheath, Cantares looking thoroughly worn out to any observer, and Arendt standing there nonchalantly in his crooked stance. Neither of them bore any injuries, but one glance made it obvious they'd just had it out.
Zereon, whose mouth had been opening and closing wordlessly for a long while, finally asked with the utmost caution.
"Did you two… fight?"
"……Does that seem plausible to you, using common sense? We just had a brief sparring match."
"I was thinking that if it were Sir Arendt, even brawling with Your Highness would be entirely possible…… haha, my apologies."
When Zereon burst into an awkward laugh, Laios too quietly averted his gaze. They had clearly been thinking the exact same thing.
Cantares rose with a groan.
"Spare me the commentary. Did you bring the gemstone?"
"Yes, we did."
Zereon gave a small smile and held up the wooden box in his hand.
With a click, the locked box swung open, revealing a jewel wreathed in a deep crimson glow. At the same time, its terrifying mana began seeping out with an ominous menace.
Cantares let out a short exclamation.
"It really is no joke."
"Count Stadler reportedly remade the box as well. He said he took particular care to keep the mana from leaking out."
"No need to waste time, then. Let's test it right away."
Arendt pulled off his glove.
Zereon nodded and handed the box over, then stepped back.
Waiting until the others had put a safe distance between them, Arendt clasped the jewel in his bare hand. The moment he did, he felt a faint warmth coil around his entire body in an instant.
It was a sensation similar to the first time he'd held Frost-Tinged Touch.
Clicking his tongue, Arendt rolled the jewel in his palm — the Uncooling Heart — back and forth.
"Be careful not to hurt yourself."
"There were fires, the castle walls collapsed, and his son suddenly fell ill — that's what they said, right?"
An entirely off-topic answer came back to Laios's warning.
"Right. At least one of Baron Cromwell's misfortunes, if not more, was definitely because of that jewel."
"Hmm…"
That was the extent of the available information, so it was impossible to guess how this cursed artifact actually functioned.
Fire, at least, isn't its domain.
That one already had its owner. He remembered that one's name and face all too clearly.
The Uncooling Heart had never properly appeared in the novel, either. Given that it was never mentioned even after Vincent stole it, it may have only been used behind the scenes.
Or maybe, surprisingly, it had simply been useless.
Arendt fiddled with the artifact and shrugged.
"Either way, we'll know once we activate it."
Laios nodded.
Arendt, confirming that the others had taken another step back, activated the artifact without hesitation.
A warm current flowed through his palm in an instant — a heat the exact opposite of Frost-Tinged Touch.
The moment he focused his mind a little deeper, he felt his mana suddenly drain away in one lump, and then the warmth trapped in his hand surged through his bloodstream, spreading to every corner of his body.
And then.
"Huh?"
Arendt made a puzzled sound and blinked blankly.
Cantares frowned.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just…… I think we'll need to test this another way."
After giving that vague answer, Arendt mulled it over briefly — then abruptly bit down hard on his own finger, hard enough to crack.
Blood dripped from his white hand in fat drops.
Before anyone had time to be startled, Arendt activated the artifact once more.
A red glow burst from the jewel like fresh blood — then guttered out, as if being drawn back in.
And a moment later.
They discovered that Arendt's wound had vanished as if it had never existed.
"Huh?"
A foolish sound escaped Cantares's mouth. Zereon's eyes went wide as well.
After a brief pause, Arendt strode over to the group, jewel still clutched in his hand.
"Commander."
"What is it?"
"It's not that I have any particular grudge against you."
Before anyone could puzzle out that out-of-now remark, Arendt seized Laios's arm. The Commander, unable to understand the gesture, simply stood still and waited — and the next moment, the pain made him flinch.
Red blood poured from Laios's thick, calloused finger.
This time, everyone went blank. While no one could find a single word, Laios spoke up flatly.
"The wound transferred."
Arendt frowned slightly.
"When I first activated it, it felt like the jewel's mana scanned my entire body once and then returned. And my fatigue disappeared along with it."
"So it heals the injury or illness — then passes it on to someone else?"
Laios murmured as he watched the blood trickling from his own fingertip. Only then did Zereon snap out of it, pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to him.
"Commander, stop the bleeding with this first."
"No wonder Count Stadler was at a loss."
"I've never heard of anything like this. It doesn't just heal — it transfers the wound onto another person."
When Arendt spoke with evident distaste, Cantares also knit his brow faintly.
This was likely why Baron Cromwell's son had suddenly fallen ill. A boy who happened to touch the sealed jewel shortly after it had cured someone's illness — and suffered the consequences.
It had been sheer luck that he hadn't died on the spot. The mysterious deaths of the Uncooling Heart's previous owners probably stemmed from the same cause.
"Such magic exists?"
"Simple healing I've heard of, but magic that passes its effects to another person is beyond even me. And healing spells only close wounds — they can't cure sickness, but……"
Zereon murmured, deep in thought.
"In a way, it might be closer to Divine Power……"
"Divine Power?"
"Yes. Divine Power possesses potent healing abilities. The sensation Sir Arendt described earlier also seems similar to what happens when Divine Power acts upon a body."
And unlike ordinary magic, Divine Power could cure illness as well. The matter of the wound being transferred to another person remained a considerable mystery, though.
Cantares, who had been holding his tongue, finally voiced his impressions with an expression of profound distaste.
"Even so, this feels less like something holy…… and more like a curse, if anything."
Just as he said, the mana held within the Uncooling Heart felt deeply sinister.
"Besides, if it were Divine Power, Count Stadler would probably have identified it already."
"You mean it wasn't crafted by human hands?"
It was then that Laios, who had been silently observing, spoke up.
"In that case, there's a possibility it's neither magic nor Divine Power, but one of the innate arts of a nonhuman race."
"Hmm…… we'll have to consider that as well."
Letting out a low hum, Cantares turned his gaze back to Arendt.
"So what do we do with this?"
"Why are you asking me?"
"You're the one who caused all that chaos to get your hands on it."
"Hmph."
He could tell from the look on his face that Zereon shared the same opinion.
In truth, the objective had never been the artifact itself, but eliminating Vincent — but there was no way the others could know those intimate circumstances. Only Laios, who seemed to suspect something, kept his mouth quietly shut.
After a moment's deliberation, Arendt spoke.
"Sinister or not, it'd be a bit of a waste to just bury it in storage. Since we've got it anyway, why not have the Crown Prince use it, Your Highness?"
"Me?"
Perhaps it was unexpected, but Cantares blinked wide-eyed.
"That thing — even at death's door, so long as you can activate it, you survive, right? Then it belongs with the person who lacks the ability to protect his own body in a dangerous moment."
Having said that much, Arendt swept the Crown Prince up and down with a pointed look.
"After all, you're so pathetically weak you couldn't even beat an apprentice knight."
Shing.
The Crown Prince's sword slid halfway out of its sheath — before Zereon stopped him.
"Your Highness, you wouldn't get even a fraction of your money back. It would be wiser to simply let it go……"
"Aren't you the more insufferable one here?"
The Crown Prince snarled savagely at his aide, who only smiled sweetly in return. Amid it all, Laios remained as composed as ever and nodded.
"I agree that Your Highness should keep it. If only for the worst-case scenario."
The Crown Prince was, at this moment, the single most indispensable man in the Callion Empire.
Cantares shoved the sword back into its sheath with a groan.
"But if that's the case, we'll need a more thorough investigation. Any side effects could spell disaster. At the very least, we should identify what this magic actually is."
"Then……"
After a moment's thought, Zereon tilted his head.
"What if we seek Priestess Lumiel's counsel? I've heard she spent her years of training wandering the continent. She was said to have exchanged knowledge quite actively with elves and dwarves as well."
"Now that you mention it, she did."
They might just find a clue from her.
But there was exactly one sticking point…
"We haven't disclosed any information about the artifact yet…… will that be all right? She might object to our using something that belongs to the enemy."
"But we can't keep it under wraps forever. If the evil god is entangled in this, the Temple will have to step forward with us eventually."
When Zereon raised his concern, Cantares — who had spent the meantime sorting out his thoughts — answered thus.
The Crown Prince turned to Laios and Arendt, as if seeking their agreement.
The two of them had no particular objections either.