Coming-of-Age Ceremony (2)
The coming-of-age ceremony drew closer by the hour, yet there had been no rehearsal of any kind to ensure things ran smoothly.
That suited Karem just fine.
Simply preparing the offerings and gifts in the greenhouse while juggling his regular work already ate up a considerable amount of time; he had none left for extra hassles.
Still, a small part of him couldn't help wondering if this was really all right.
His worries proved completely unfounded.
The reason was simple.
"If we practiced, it would look as though we cared only about appearances. Wouldn't that strip the whole thing of sincerity?"
"Is that so?"
"It is. Still, you ought to keep this much in mind."
Come to think of it, there had been no rehearsal for the Winter-Ascend either.
Thanks to Iona, though, Karem had a rough grasp of the order of events.
1. Participants waited in the open courtyard of the main keep; guests waited inside the grand hall.
2. Guided by the priests, the participants entered the grand hall.
3. The ceremony began. Each participant remained still until called by name, then presented their offering and returned to their place.
4. Step 3 repeated until every participant had made their burnt offering.
Karem felt a strange flutter of anticipation mixed with unease.
He had almost no memories—even indirect ones—of coming-of-age ceremonies from his previous life, so he didn't quite know how to look forward to it. At the same time, having personally taken part in the massive Winter-Ascend festival made it hard to feel truly nervous. The sequence of events was similar, after all.
He had assumed the day itself would bring some tension, yet it never really arrived.
The number of people gathered in the courtyard was small.
Well, if one counted every vassal, knight, employee, and contracted associate of the Felwinter family—everyone bound by direct or indirect ties—it was hardly a sparse crowd. Compared to the Winter-Ascend, though, it was a drop in the bucket. Not even the dirt under a fingernail.
There was, however, one respect in which it refused to yield to the Winter-Ascend.
"Giant Churchill Junior! You possess a physique every bit as magnificent as your father, the famed Sword Master!"
"That's why I split that bastard's skull open. Had no choice."
"H-how dare you insult my honor!"
"Care for some roasted almonds?"
Even without bards or barkers, the place was at least as loud as the Winter-Ascend—if not louder. That was no exaggeration.
Karem frowned at the din that left his ears ringing.
Still, there was nothing to be done about it.
As he had reflected before, Europa's communication technology amounted to little more than people, horses, or comparable beasts and monsters running and flying themselves into a sweat. Compared to modern Earth civilization it was pitiful.
That was not to say equivalent techniques did not exist—magical tools capable of two-way or one-way communication, crystal orbs, and the like. Yet set against a civilization that could hurl photos and video across the planet in seconds, those methods were about as impressive as a goblin flexing in front of a Sword Master.
The real pity was that such advanced tools were often wasted on cat videos of knocked-over water bowls or photographs too unspeakable to describe. Similar things would doubtless happen in Europa as well. People were people wherever you went. Sensibilities might differ a little, but that was all.
Because of that, the chance for ceremony attendees to meet face-to-face, trade information, and forge connections was enormously important. Everyone present was a future power broker. Karem could not simply slip away from this place—nor did he intend to try.
"Are you truly the exclusive chef of that renowned Supreme Magic Advisor?"
"If I were lying about something like that, I'd already have been in serious trouble long ago."
"I heard the curse made you grow..."
"I'm just as surprised I didn't die of old age, so no need to hold back."
"Lord Karem! Are you truly releasing the recipes so freely? Each one is the equal of a family or master artisan's secret technique—"
"They would spread somehow or other no matter what I did."
"True enough. Secrets of that caliber would attract plenty of thieves."
"If they're going to spread behind my back anyway, I'd rather release them officially so they can travel far and sink deep. It's easier on the mind."
"Far and deep, you say?"
"What's the fun of delicious food if you're the only one eating it?"
For Karem, the whole ordeal was quietly exhausting. No joke—it was genuinely exhausting.
A decade had passed since his reincarnation, yet a person's fundamental nature did not change so easily with the mere passage of years. To put it bluntly, having complete strangers whose names and faces he did not know walk up and start talking was uncomfortable in the extreme. For someone who still carried the modern sensibility that social distancing was normal, standing here felt like doing a handstand on a bed of needles.
Naturally, those around him sensed it. These were people designed from birth to read others' moods. When someone was openly flinching, only the incompetent would fail to notice.
The chef the Supreme Magic Advisor kept veiled.
Far more so than during the Winter-Ascend... so the rumors were true?
I'd like to get an autograph if the chance arises.
Build a connection now and I might snag a few scraps later.
If you lack a lover of your preferred type, raise one yourself. What a remarkable method.
The de facto owner of the Acusare Oil Guild...
Yet they had no intention of letting him go. Karem was already famous for secluding himself, and Catherine's possessive nature—treated as tacit fact—made even letter contact difficult. A chance to form a bond with the man at the center of the rumors was not something they could afford to miss.
For Karem it remained pure torment.
Fortunately, an end eventually arrived.
Wooooooooong—
A priest stepped forward before the participants and blew a conch. The deep resonance rolled outward in every direction; the people who had been loud enough to shake the keep itself fell silent as one and turned toward a single point.
Karem sighed, gathered his offering, and followed the priest along with the throng.
Unlike the Winter-Ascend, which had blazed with candlelight, magical tools, and torches while every surface glittered with decorations, paintings, and statues, the coming-of-age ceremony possessed a more subdued character.
Banners embroidered with axes and patterns of wind and snow crystals hung on the walls. Wooden carvings of animals and monsters, large and small, lined the path as if guiding the way. Where banners were absent, trophies of monsters and fierce beasts looked down upon the participants.
Quiet... and the decorations are decorations, all right.
In its own way the atmosphere was every bit as impressive as the early Winter-Ascend, when clowns, bards, and performers had stirred excitement right before the burnt offerings.
The vast grand hall stood a quarter empty, yet hundreds of candles ringed the altar directly below the high seats. Iona and the other priests waited there, along with people standing ramrod-straight. At the center a great bonfire burned slowly, its smoke rising toward the ceiling. And in the place where the high table usually stood towered the enormous wooden statues of Tutatis, Skadi, and the Nameless Traveler, lending the solemn hush—broken only by breathing and footsteps—an even heavier weight.
A quick glance around showed faces taut with tension.
Well, making a racket the way we did outside would look pretty awkward right now.
Not even the usual low murmuring could be heard. Gazes were fixed on the participants as a whole rather than on any one person, which actually made things more comfortable.
Where are those two, though?
Speak of the devil. At the very front of the watching crowd Karem spotted his two masters regarding him with indifferent expressions. They seemed to notice him at the same moment. Mary gave a small wave of her hand, opening and closing her fist, while Catherine arched one eyebrow.
So the offering-slash-gift is worth looking forward to, right?
Please. Who do you think I am? Of course it is.
Once they had passed Catherine and Mary at the head of the line, the throng split into two groups around the bonfire. Alfred strode out from behind and ascended the dais.
What followed felt oddly familiar—because it was similar to the Winter-Ascend.
"Half of those present will remember what Iceland once was."
At those words a collective murmur of breath swept through the previously solemn hall.
"It is a bitter tale of the past now. You who become adults today, and you their parents, know that even hearing of those fierce days leaves you with only a vague impression."
Alfred turned his calm gaze upon the young candidates standing on either side of the bonfire.
"So remember only this one thing. Give your all in every moment, yet never lose your composure. Cherish one another, and do not give too freely. And drink in moderation."
"My lord. That is three things."
"...Did I say only one?"
The sudden correction, like a fart in a solemn gathering, and Alfred's quiet fluster turned the murmurs into stifled snickers.
"This is a solemn occasion, so do not laugh. I shall end my remarks here."
Alfred maintained his dignity to the last as he stepped down behind the bonfire. As if taking the baton, Iona hauled his massive frame onto the dais.
Do we present the offerings the same way we did at the Winter-Ascend?
Similar, yet a little different.
The person called by name stepped forward with their offering, placed it upon the altar, listened to the prayer, and had oil anointed upon their head. When that was finished they cast the offering into the bonfire and returned to their place. Then the process moved to the next person.
The offerings flung into the flames were as varied as those of the Winter-Ascend: ornaments carved from bone, wooden statues gleaming with soft light, greatswords, dreamcatchers, hand axes, pouches heavy with silver coins, and more.
Am I the only one who prepared something edible?
Just in case, he scanned those not yet called. No one was visibly carrying food. Whether that was good or bad was hard to say; the comparison felt too ambiguous.
Well, maybe someone prepared something small enough to pocket, like me.
While he was glancing about and thinking such thoughts—
"Karem!"
Karem stepped forward. His eyes were drawn, unbidden, to the bonfire. The offerings already cast into it blazed fiercely—no, they burned and melted. Those melted remains clung to the fire, and with the intense heat came a familiar sensation of something sacred yet cold.
Is this because of holy power?
Correct. Reincarnator.
"Ah, just as I thought?"
Come to think of it, he seemed to recall the weapons thrown in during the Winter-Ascend melting as well—
"Aaagh!"
Thud—sudden agony rattled through his skull. It felt like headbutting a utility pole; stars exploded across his vision.
"W-wait. A headbutt?"
Karem rubbed his throbbing head and looked around. The bonfire, the ceremony participants, the guardians, the wooden statues, the grand hall that held them all—none of it was here.
An ancient tree that must have stood for thousands of years. Grass grown high as his waist. From every tip of every branch hung icicles etched with unique snowflake patterns, dangling like chandeliers. Whenever a soft breeze stirred they clinked together in clear, pure tones.
A fierce vitality that could be felt simply by looking. With every breath, each particle of that life force seemed to sink into his skin. A faint daze settled over him as well.
"What... is this now..."
Oh, you recovered your wits faster than I expected.
"My wits? Uh..."
That booming yet hearty, mischievous voice he had heard before. Karem turned toward it.
A warrior with braided beard, power radiating even through heavy armor decorated with beast fur and hide, approached and clapped him on the back.
"Guhk!"
First-timers usually thrash around on the ground, too out of it and in too much pain to even breathe.
"Th-this voice... Lord Tutatis?"
That's right. This is the third time we've met face-to-face? No—second?
"Where in the world is this?"
Issvid.
"Pardon?"
Where exactly is that?