The Firefly Prince (1)
A few hours later, we were finally able to make our way up, accompanied by the head butler who had come down after receiving our message.
"Butler, could we stop by the Grand Cathedral before we head back?"
"Of course, young master. I shall inform the master and madam, so please, take your time."
As expected of the head butler. I wished I had such an excellent secretary for myself. Hoping against hope, I glanced over at Eri.
Snore... whew.
Eri was fast asleep with the most blissful expression on her face. She was even using my thigh as a footrest, sleeping like a log. How on earth was she supposed to be my assistant?
Expecting Eri to become like the butler... is asking for the impossible, I suppose. The words "Eri" and "delicate" simply did not belong in the same sentence. I shook my head to dispel the idle thoughts.
Before long, the car arrived in front of the Grand Cathedral. As soon as the black limousine pulled up, a paladin guarding the entrance approached and asked politely,
"What brings you here today, brother?"
"My companion is in poor condition due to a curse. Would it be possible to treat him?"
"I understand. Please lay the patient down here."
Apprentice priests immediately loaded Otto onto a stretcher. We were then guided straight to a high priest's examination room. It was a reception clearly premised on the assumption that I was a noble, given the luxury car we had arrived in.
Normally, seeing a high priest requires an appointment. Yet, without any waiting in line or prior booking, we were ushered directly into the high priest's office. It was a sad reality, but even a religion preaching equality and love could not remain entirely aloof in the face of capital and power.
We laid the unconscious Otto on the bed, and I sat across the desk from the high healing priest. From behind a veil, the voice of an elderly woman drifted out.
"Greetings, young master. What kind of curse has the patient been exposed to?"
"He was narrowly grazed by the Curse of Pus."
To be precise, it was a breakthrough infection, but explaining that would require explaining the concept of vaccines first, so I glossed over it. If I started explaining vaccines, I might end up burned at the stake for heresy.
"Fortunately, the patient's own resistance was high enough to avoid a direct hit. It has manifested as severe cold symptoms, muscle aches, and a high fever."
"Has any pus formed?"
"Since it has only been a few hours since exposure, I believe none has formed yet."
"I see."
The priest continued her medical interview.
"Have you checked his urine?"
"The color was normal."
"And his breathing?"
"No wheezing or wet rales were heard."
"You have organized his symptoms very well. Are you perhaps aspiring to become a healing priest?"
"Yes."
A doctor, to be precise, but close enough.
"Understood. Based on what you have told me, it seems a specialized curse-dispelling spell won't be necessary. A basic healing spell should have him recovered in no time."
"Thank you, Priest."
"Then let us proceed to the treatment room."
The high priest, the stretcher-bound Otto, and I headed toward the treatment room.
Creeeak.
As the heavy door swung open, a space so blindingly white it made my eyes water welcomed us. From the walls and ceiling to the marble tiles adorning the floor, the entire room was bathed in an immaculate, spotless white. A faint scent of soothing oil tickled my nose, calming my nerves.
"Please lay the patient down here."
Beyond the altar indicated by the high priest, a massive Y-shaped cross towered high. A statue of a woman draped in thin cloth hung from the cross with her arms wide open. Clear water trickled down from the statue's feet. A thin stream of water, originating from where the nails would have been driven, flowed over the insteps of her feet and gathered along grooves into the center of a magic circle on the floor.
Mercy, sacrifice, purity, purification... and harmony. Every object and arrangement filling this room was finely tuned for the sole, blind miracle of 'healing.'
Well, divine magic is still magic, after all. Feng shui—or environmental resonance—actually matters quite a bit. Especially in a world where even the sun is invisible.
With practiced movements, the high priest laid Otto beneath the Y-shaped statue, slowly clasped her hands, and began to pray. I took a step back so as not to disturb the treatment.
"O Thou who bearest the fruit of suffering upon the branch of mercy..."
As the holy power flowing from the priest's fingertips seeped into Otto's body, his ragged breathing began to quiet down noticeably.
Scribble, scribble.
I pulled a notebook and pen from my breast pocket and began taking notes on the priest's incantations.
Maybe I can draw some inspiration from this. Ultimately, divine magic is just an extension of magic. It only differs in that its resource is holy power; the fact that symbols and incantations hold weight remains unchanged.
Strangely, however, there was no such thing as healing magic in this world. Miracles that healed people were strictly monopolized by divine magic. That was why I studied the symbols of divine magic whenever I had the chance, wondering if I could replicate those miracles using pure magic instead. Of course, I hadn't made any progress in years.
Scribble, scribble.
Only the sound of my pen scratching against the paper and the high priest's prayers filled the quiet treatment room.
"Trying to confine a miracle within the framework of logic. What a preposterous notion."
At the sudden, unfamiliar voice coming from behind my back, my shoulders flinched reflexively.
Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me. Fortunately, thanks to the acting skills I had honed since the age of four, I didn't let a curse slip out. I turned around.
Standing there was an elderly gentleman looking down at me, his coat draped over his shoulders like a cape. He was a dapper old man with a large scar visible beneath the patch covering his right eye. His remaining left eye was fixed on my notebook. I closed the notebook I was writing in and spoke.
"Excuse me..."
"Shh." The old man placed an index finger over his lips. He gestured with his chin toward the Y-shaped statue. "The priest is in the middle of performing a miracle. Let us lower our voices so as not to disturb her."
I nodded. Then, lowering my voice as much as possible, I whispered in a tiny, mosquito-like murmur, "Do you have business with the priest?"
"Ah. I stopped by to collect some holy water. It is rare for a high priest to be working at this hour. I did not expect to find another guest here," the old man replied, whispering back in a conspiratorial tone.
"Holy water?"
"Indeed. Like you, I have a keen interest in divine magic. I need some for my research."
I scanned the old man from head to toe. For someone who had come to buy holy water, his attire and demeanor seemed miles away from anything resembling faith. And judging by his phrase "like you"...
"Are you a magic caster?"
"Oh? Usually, people ask if one is a mage first, rather than a magic caster."
"There are bloodstains on your sleeve. I figured you were someone who preferred the field over a cozy laboratory. Am I wrong?"
"Haha. Not only are you bold, but you are also a clever little mage." The old man's gaze drifted to the notebook in my hand. "In that case, I must apologize. I did not realize you were a fellow mage and committed the discourtesy of peering into your grimoire."
To a mage, a grimoire is as precious as life itself. Looking into someone's grimoire without permission was a grave insult that could easily lead to a duel to the death.
"As a fellow traveler on the path of magic, I offer my apologies."
"No, it is fine. It is hardly anything as grand as a grimoire." I shook my head and opened the notebook again. "You may look as much as you like. For now, it is nothing more than simple notes."
"Hmm..." The old magic caster rubbed the stubble on his chin. After humming in contemplation for a moment, he spoke again. "Even if it is just a draft, a grimoire is still a grimoire. An idea in itself is just as precious as a discovery."
"Thank you for saying so."
"Please, allow me to make amends. It so happens that I am conducting similar research. Would showing you my grimoire suffice as an apology?"
Oh. What unexpected good fortune. Presented with this sudden stroke of luck, I did not hesitate to accept.
"Would you allow this foolish young mage to catch a brief glimpse of your wisdom, elder?"
"Haha. What a mature young mage you are, quite beyond your years. Very well. I shall give you my grimoire as well." He pulled a notebook from his pocket and handed it to me.
"This is..."
"Keep it. It is a copy of my grimoire. It will vanish in a week, so make sure to copy it down somewhere else before then."
I rubbed the cover of the notebook the old magic caster had handed me. Only then did I feel an incredibly faint trace of mana at my fingertips. It meant the notebook had been replicated through magic.
My god... I looked up at the old man with wide eyes. Unless he was highly eccentric, there was no reason for him to carry a pre-made copy of his grimoire around. That meant he had likely replicated it just now. The terrifying part was that I hadn't sensed a single incantation or spell formula being cast.
Which means... Goosebumps erupted all over my body. The rank I sensed from the old man right now was merely the 1st Tier. Of course, I had considered the possibility that his actual rank was higher, but now I realized it might be unfathomably higher.
I froze on the spot, unable to hide my shock. Seeing this, the old man gave a warm, genial smile and gently patted my hair. "Do not be so startled, junior. It is merely a small trick that comes with age."
"I have learned much today, elder."
"Indeed," the old man murmured as he stroked my hair. "...You have good eyes. They are very clear and deep, like the night sky, fitting for your name."
Excuse me? I almost blurted out the question. The night sky? How can the night sky be clear in a world where even the sun doesn't show? That metaphor seems a bit off. And besides, I never told him my name.
Whether he read my mind or not, the old man only offered a cryptic smile. The subtle tension between us dissolved as the high priest finished her prayer.
"...As the tears of the branch touch the root, new leaves shall sprout from the depths."
The high priest lowered her hands as she concluded her final prayer. The soft white light that had filled the treatment room faded away. I immediately checked Otto's condition. His ragged breathing had settled into a steady, peaceful rhythm, like that of a sleeping baby.
"Whew..." The high priest, who had been praying beneath the statue, let out a long sigh. She rose to her feet and turned toward us. Spotting the one-eyed old man standing behind me, she flinched in surprise and immediately bowed deeply.
"Oh, elder! Today was your scheduled visit. Please wait just a moment."
The high priest welcomed the uninvited old man warmly, without showing even a hint of annoyance.
"I only need to take three bottles of holy water today."
"Yes, I will prepare them for you right away."
The high priest began collecting holy water from the foot of the Y-shaped statue. Meanwhile, the old man pulled a few silver coins from his pocket and placed them on the altar.
"A donation."
"Thank you as always, elder. Ah, let me quickly check on the patient before we speak further."
"My apologies for interrupting."
Afterward, the high priest gave me instructions regarding Otto's care. The summary of her advice was as follows:
• If he begins coughing again after returning home, bring him back to the cathedral immediately.
• For the next few days, casting magic might be difficult due to the residual holy power in his body, but do not worry, as it will completely dissipate within two days.
• Do not let him eat anything strange on the way home, and absolutely do not let him pick up any suspicious dolls or objects.
I committed the priest's instructions to memory and escorted Otto back to the car. Before leaving the treatment room, my eyes met those of the old magic caster. Wink. The old man winked with his left eye.
"Well met, and farewell. My name is written in the notebook. Let us hope our paths cross again in the future."
"Thank you, elder."
I bowed politely to the old man and stepped out of the treatment room. Just before climbing back into the car, a sudden realization struck me.
Wait. Come to think of it... During our entire conversation just now... I had no memory of seeing that magic caster actually open his mouth.
"Elder, what on earth were you discussing so merrily with that young master?"
"Haha. It is a secret."
After Julian departed, the two elders sat facing each other in the high priest's examination room. The old magic caster, addressed as "elder," crossed his legs and spoke.
"High Priest—"
"I told you, I am no longer the High Priest. I handed the position down to my junior five years ago. Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Oh? My apologies. As one grows older, five years ago and yesterday start to feel like much the same thing." Haha. The old magic caster let out a hearty chuckle and continued.
"At any rate, High Priest. How have the warlocks been lately?"
"Their methods have changed. Instead of proselytizing like they used to, they are scattering their grimoires here and there, making it easy for people to dabble in black magic."
"Is it difficult to catch them?"
"Even the Church cannot prevent self-study, after all."
"Hmm..."
"On the bright side, because they are self-taught, their quality is far inferior compared to those trained under an apprenticeship."
"But their sheer numbers cannot be ignored. I ask of you, retrieve as many of those warlocks' grimoires as you can."
"Understood, elder." The high priest bowed her head. Then, suddenly recalling something, the old magic caster added,
"Ah, just in case, do not retrieve the grimoire of the boy who just left."
"Pardon? Do you mean the one you gave him, elder?"
"Not that one. I mean the warlock's grimoire you just said we need to retrieve. That junior of mine had a particularly blood-soaked one tucked inside his breast pocket."
"...What?!" The high priest's eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Th-then we must order the knights to confiscate it immediately...! No, wait, why did you let him go when you knew that, elder? You even gave him your own grimoire on top of it!"
The old man burst into hearty laughter at the horrified high priest.
"There is something I wish to verify. Trust me and leave him be for now."
"Elder..."
"I ask this of you. Do not worry. If the boy begins to stray, I shall stop him myself."
The old magic caster turned his head to look out the examination room window. In the distance, the black limousine could be seen climbing up toward Sanctum Hill.
"Youth is a splendid thing. Watching those novel ideas unfold is surely one of the remaining pleasures of my life."
Meanwhile, at that very moment, inside the limousine heading back to the mansion.
Relying on the flickering light passing through the rattling car window, Julian carefully opened the first page of the copied notebook the old magic caster had given him.
The name is... Fitch? What a peculiar name. Julian memorized the name written in the notebook.
I doubt that's his real name, but whatever. According to the conventions of the genre, this was highly unlikely to be the end of their connection.