Civilization's Front Line, Afterglow Fortress (2)
Sturdy, luxurious carriages and wagons. Horses and snowrunners whose coats gleamed with a sheen of oil. And the crests engraved on the escorts' armor.
Anyone who saw the roaring white dragon's head would know at a glance where the procession had come from and under whose orders it traveled.
Faced with such unmistakable proof, the people waiting in line at the gate courteously and of their own accord made way for the wagons and carriages ringed by the guards.
The gatekeeper, however, ignored his colleague's scolding and stopped the approaching column strictly by the book, demanding proof. He accepted the orders and began poring over them line by line.
Thinking absently that something smelled like fried chicken, Karem peeked out the window Mary had opened and whispered to Catherine.
"In Borderster or Coldon they let us through the moment they saw the seal on the outside. This is taking longer than I expected."
"Well, by the letter of the law everyone entering a castle or city is subject to inspection."
Catherine lifted her head slightly and looked at him.
"Customary law is like that. But law is usually something that can be smoothed over with money, power, or connections."
"So this is how things are supposed to be handled?"
"Exactly. Still, when someone detains a noble's procession without any flexibility, there are usually only two possibilities—"
She broke off as an angry tread suddenly sounded outside the carriage. Karem could see the owner of those footsteps.
A middle-aged man who looked much like the gatekeepers but wore a more ornate uniform and a cloak strode out from inside the gate, smacked the gatekeeper across the head, and snatched the orders away while hissing under his breath.
Bang! Thud! Thwack-thwack-thwack!
"Do you even have a brain in that skull?! What document do you think you're reading?! Are your eyes just for decoration?!"
"Ow! The captain said to inspect thoroughly even if a noble comes through!"
"You idiot! You still have to know who you're dealing with!"
"Is the Felwinter family not nobility?"
"Lunatic! Absolute lunatic!"
Get out of here! While thrashing the fallen gatekeeper (his voice so booming that the whispering was pointless), the captain of the guard kicked the man away and drove him off.
The procession's crest was clearly visible even from the top of the gate. He had already confirmed the contents of the orders the moment he snatched them.
The same captain who had been seething only moments earlier now bowed and scraped as though nothing had happened, offering the papers back with both hands toward the open carriage window in a solemn tone.
"I apologize for the discourtesy. May I have permission to ask once more, for confirmation, the reason for your visit?"
"Her Excellency the Chief Magical Advisor of Atanitas has come under orders from His Grace the Duke of Iceland to pay her respects to His Lordship the Margrave Hadrianus."
"Ah, in that case I shall personally escort you to the fortress."
Mary answered in Catherine's place and reclaimed the orders. The halted procession soon passed through the gate and entered Present.
Karem immediately tried to close the window.
"Ugh, cold—wait, it's not? Or rather, less cold."
"The walls block some of the chill from outside, and being a city helps as well."
Indeed, unlike before, opening the window no longer dropped the temperature inside the carriage so sharply. Thanks to that, Karem was free to take in the city.
Present, the castle town of Afterglow Fortress.
Aside from its scale, Present resembled Coldon yet differed in several ways.
First, the roofs. The roofs of the houses were far more sharply peaked than those he had seen in Coldon. Some were so steep the roof seemed almost to meet the ground.
Next, the people's clothing. Most wore thick fur cloaks over full arms, making it hard to tell ordinary citizens from adventurers or mercenaries.
Above all, where Winterhome would have stood in Coldon rose a colossal wall—no, a fortress—that completely sealed the pass between two ridges of the mountain range.
Without even noticing how quickly his skin dried from the lack of the oil he usually used as lotion, Karem could not tear his eyes from the majesty of Afterglow Fortress outside the window.
Was this how a primitive man felt upon first beholding the pyramids of ancient Egypt? Even with magic and monsters to help, the sheer scale seemed beyond what the technology of his previous life could have managed…
And then there was the pervasive scent of hot oil throughout the city. No—this was unmistakably the smell of fried chicken. People carrying buckets of chicken and eating as they walked were a common sight.
Is fried chicken the trend around here?
Like the fire-mashed-potato craze at Winterhome?
Just then the back of his head prickled. The source of the stare was easy to find—there were only two other people riding with him.
"It will take a little longer to reach the fortress. Why not keep looking?"
"Ah, no. I've seen enough. And someone's gaze is rather distracting."
"I said nothing."
Mary spoke with a face so expressionless it bordered on serene. Her voice carried a note of wounded innocence, but that was nonsense. She should have hidden the emotion in her eyes first.
Karem closed the window and returned to his seat.
"I was going to finish the book I was reading myself."
"The stare. The stare. Your eyes are laughing—how am I supposed to look at anything else?"
"Hmm, little one. I have no idea what you're talking about."
It was hard to believe those words when the pure enjoyment in Catherine's and Mary's blank faces was thick enough to feel on the skin. In the end Catherine shrugged as if admitting she had been caught and snapped her open book shut with a sharp clap.
"Well, vistas like Winterhome or Afterglow Fortress are rare, so I can't blame you. When I first saw the World Tree of Berseingeto my mouth wouldn't close either."
"The World Tree…"
World Tree. Yggdrasil. The ash that spanned nine worlds with its roots. The colossal tree that pierced the heavens and upheld the cosmos. All sorts of names and epithets from his previous life floated up, yet this world was different, so the tree itself was surely of another kind.
"But I heard it burned, didn't I?"
"What?"
"I think I heard in the vault that the ancient Palatino Empire burned it when they conquered the place."
Ah. Catherine nodded—that much was not wrong.
"It did burn once then, but after the region submitted to the Palatino Empire it was replanted. Records say that thanks to the ashes of the previous World Tree and the surrounding forest it grew even larger and sturdier than before."
"Well, it is a symbolic tree, so that makes sense. Hm?"
Something about the wording felt off. Records exist…?
"It almost sounds as if it burned again."
"Correct. Before the World Tree had fully grown, another incident occurred."
"…Did the ancient empire burn it a second time?"
"Yes. It was burned."
Catherine tossed the book aside and folded her arms.
"Only this time by the Demon King's army."
"Oh."
Come to think of it, the whole of Europa had been conquered, hadn't it? If it had been burned again in the process…
"The old ashes already overflowed with nutrients, and then the ashes of the still-young World Tree were added on top. The third World Tree simply devoured all of that nourishment and grew so vast that calling it a World Tree no longer felt like a joke."
"It must be quite enormous, then?"
"Hmm, how to put it…"
While Catherine searched for a suitable comparison, Mary picked up the casually discarded book.
"For starters, the trunk of the World Tree is said to be rather wide."
"It's called a World Tree, so of course it is."
"About as wide as Winterhome, roughly."
"I see. As wide as Winterhome… wait, what?"
He felt certain he had just heard something absurd, yet Mary continued without pause.
"There is a rumor that its highest branches touch the clouds. Well, a rumor is a rumor, so it simply means it is that tall."
"…And you are not a fairy who speaks lightly."
It wasn't a joke? Karem's eyes asked whether she was serious; Catherine answered with firm certainty that the description was accurate.
"Yes, I know that feeling well. Even I didn't believe it when the old man first told me. Only after I saw it myself did I understand. That is the ordinary person's reaction."
When two people whose experience of the world ranked among the top five in the castle spoke that way, disbelief became impossible.
Karem's gaze drifted to the staff leaning beside Catherine—the amber set at the tip of Palatino's Third Glory. Looking at it now, the gem that glowed with a soft orange light even without any sunlight began to seem profound and magnificent.
A short while later the procession halted.
When Karem stepped down from the carriage he flinched at the sudden change in temperature—and flinched again at the awe-inspiring sight that filled his vision.
He could only marvel once more.
The spectacle that had astonished him from afar remained just as overwhelming up close. Even with the distance closed and the inner walls as an obstacle, its sheer immensity could not be hidden; he found it almost impossible to look away.
An ancient fortress standing as civilization's front line. How stirring a phrase that was—
"How long do you plan to stand there?"
"Ah, pardon me."
"Why are you so spellbound?"
"Well, it was impressive from a distance, but up close it looks even more magnificent."
Karem hurriedly stepped aside so that Mary and Catherine—who had just scolded him—could alight after him.
"You were already staring earlier. Do you never tire of it?"
"Honestly, I don't think I could tire of it no matter how many times I looked."
At those words Catherine, who had been glancing about, raised her head high and gazed up at the fortress.
"Well, the view from that summit looking down would certainly be a spectacular sight."
"Indeed, the panorama from the fortress is an extraordinary vista."
The captain of the guard who had escorted the procession approached, rubbing his palms together with a broad smile.
"I take it you have looked down from there yourself?"
"Of course. No matter how great a person may be, they look smaller than a bean, and with the Gogmagog Mountains as the dividing line, Present's civilization and the barbaric world beyond the range stand in clear contrast. Night-watch duty at the top of the fortress is surprisingly competitive."
That particular claim Karem found hard to believe. Competing for night-watch duty? Was the man mad? The few times he had stood sentry in his previous life, simply standing there doing nothing had felt like hell. No matter how fine the scenery, volunteering for that? Why?
"A flask of liquor and something to chew on, plus those two magnificent contrasting landscapes—and a few hours of guard duty fly right by!"
"Certainly. The view from the fortress alone is enough of a drinking snack."
"Exactly. Salty torn jerky and shelled walnuts, washing down the oil and salt with a mug of bee—"
Beer? Mid-rapture, the captain of the guard froze solid.
From behind the carriage a tall, neat elderly man strode forward. The old man wore a smart fur coat over fine leather armor, a monocle perched on his nose, and carried a small wooden bucket of fried chicken in one hand while tearing into a piece with the other. Wait—chicken?
Karem rubbed his eyes. It was chicken. Before the appearance, the smell alone confirmed it beyond doubt.
The old man who had been glaring at the captain swallowed his mouthful and continued.
"I have no idea what sort of drinking snacks you favor, but drinking on duty? I may need to overturn every man who has stood watch these past three months."
"Ah, Steward! Beer is hardly liquor, is it?!"
"You can drink it by the pail without getting drunk, yet it is still a drink made from barley. Prepare yourself."
The captain of the guard was plunged into the pit of despair in an instant.
Having thus driven the captain away, the elderly steward turned toward the party.
And then—
"And this must be the renowned Lord Karem."
"…What?"
"Hm???"
"Eh."
He strode right up, dropped to one knee, set the chicken bucket aside, and seized both of Karem's hands in a rapid handshake, as though greeting a long-awaited guest of honor with pure joy.
Yet the true guest of honor was someone else in the party, was he not?
In that surreal moment when the steward seemed far more delighted by the guest's retainer than by the guest he was meant to receive, Catherine and the rest of the procession fell into confusion.
Perhaps realizing his gaffe only after the fact, the steward jerked his head up, returned to his original place as if nothing had happened, and spoke again with formal gravity.
"We received word in advance. Welcome to the fortress. Lady Atanitas. I am Knight Wallace Hartmann, steward to His Lordship Margrave Hadrianus."
The long-faced steward Wallace delivered a crisp bow as though the absurd moment earlier had never occurred, then picked up the chicken bucket from the ground and resumed eating.
The sheer brazenness left the party no room to react. Everyone was thinking the same thing: So what in the world was that just now?
Wallace ignored those stares and bowed his head to Catherine.
"And first I must offer an apology."
"…Hm? You mean what just—"
"You will not be able to meet His Lordship the Margrave at present."
"What?"
Having declared it so firmly, Wallace casually flung the now bare chicken bone over his shoulder.