The Vengeful Woman (1)
The sky was blanketed in something like the husk of a living creature.
Thousands upon tens of thousands of writhing, worm-like legs fell from above like rain.
I lay in the shade and watched the spectacle with complete indifference.
Karl's body showed none of the rigid paralysis that terror used to bring. The problem of the Curse of Illusion seemed more or less resolved, which meant that nothing awaited me now but a leisurely country life.
I was a lord's son, so starvation was hardly a concern, and I had zero interest in any line of succession. Lounging around would do just fine. Besides, no one expected anything from a frail invalid like me in the first place.
"Young master. You all right?"
"…Yeah."
"For a man who couldn't even walk that far before, this is a big improvement… but damn, your stamina's still pathetic!"
"Can't be helped."
"Ahaha! If I hadn't known it couldn't be helped, I'd have grabbed a whip and made you run whether you liked it or not."
I had asked Brenden for help and started physical training. A body that had spent an entire lifetime curled up under blankets was far too weak — weak enough to get in the way of living my second life.
How on earth had the Karl of Luke's Biography, the demon-worshipper, managed to wage war with a physique like this?
Brenden's first instruction had been simple: run. And here I was, collapsed in a sweat-soaked heap after failing to last even a minute.
In novels and comics, the protagonists ran until their muscles tore and their lungs burst. The people around them would praise their monstrous grit, and the heroes themselves would rejoice as they felt their limits shatter.
If I tried that right now…
"I'd die…"
"You really think you'd die from this little?"
"Young master. Please have some water."
"Thanks."
Sophie, my personal maid, held out a water bottle. I took it and drank deeply. The dizzyingly cold water cooled a body that felt like it was on fire. Sophie wiped the sweat from me with a towel.
I glanced sideways and spotted someone watching me through a window from inside the castle — a red-haired girl. Clara Manfred. Daughter of Baron Manfred, and my younger sister.
When I raised a hand and waved, she flinched and vanished deeper inside. Had she thought I couldn't see her?
"Hey! Brenden!"
Two men came walking toward us. One was my older brother, Cain Manfred, who looked exactly like the baron. The other was Paulo — the baron's right-hand man and advisor ever since the days when Baron Manfred had been a mercenary captain.
"Something up?"
"Ugh, this is infuriating! That damn priest is throwing another fit."
Cain's face was twisted with irritation.
"Again?"
"Says a ghost showed up in the fields at Grat Village!"
"The baron hasn't returned yet. He's dealing with the Anamar deserters."
The Anamar Union. A confederation of beastmen tribes in the north. The tribes that had once fought among themselves had banded together to resist the Laviart Empire's wars of expansion. Even after the fighting stopped, deserters had nowhere to go home to, so many of them turned to banditry. Those beastmen bandits we had run into on the way back had been Anamar deserters.
They seemed to have settled somewhere near the Manfred Barony, so the baron had gone out to suppress them himself.
Paulo glanced at me briefly, then continued.
"Ordinarily Cain would handle this, but I thought Lady Clara would know more about this sort of thing, so I asked her. Brenden, I'd like you to take a few men and go with her."
"Understood, Vice-Captain. Will do."
"Um…"
The moment I opened my mouth, every eye snapped toward me.
"If it's all right, I'd like to know the details as well. Paulo."
"Hmm."
Paulo looked at Cain. Cain grinned.
"Of course! Paulo! Explain it to him! He's a lord's son too — he ought to know what's going on in the territory!"
"Very well. Then…"
Paulo began his explanation. It was about friction with a Lumenic priest.
The Lumenic Church was a monotheistic religion and the largest clerical organization on the continent, belonging to no particular nation. The asylum where I had been confined had been one of their facilities as well.
Originally this land had been lawless territory, so the Lumenic Church had never managed to extend its influence here. Once Baron Manfred became the lord and the region was formally absorbed into the Empire, the Church dispatched a single priest. That priest tried to meddle in every problem the territory faced. Every time, before the baron could even attempt a solution of his own, the man would insist they request aid from the Church.
The baron knew exactly what he was after. He had seen the Church's methods on enough battlefields. For now the priest could not interfere directly without the baron's permission — but if he gradually trained the people to lean on the Church for every little thing, he would eventually seize effective control of the Manfred Barony.
The baron would have loved nothing more than to boot the man clean out of the territory, but he could not simply cast out a priest whom so many already respected.
"But… this time, it really is a problem we can't solve ourselves. I checked. The ghost's appearance is real. But who among us can exorcise a ghost?"
"Ghosts can erase their physical form at will, so even an outstanding warrior is useless against them."
"Exactly. And on top of that, the priest himself got thrashed by the ghost and had to retreat. Lady Clara is a mage, so there's a slim hope, but…"
"Clara will be helpful, but she won't be able to resolve it. Would it be all right if I came along?"
Everyone stared at me with round eyes.
It wasn't some noble desire to contribute to the territory that moved me. The only thing I cared about was the ghost said to be haunting the fields of Grat Village.
The trait I had gained after completing the quest at the asylum — Ark of Curses. The more curses I held, the more that trait worked in my favor. Ghosts were almost certainly connected to curses, so there was a chance I could acquire some useful power.
"Little brother. I'm not trying to dismiss you, but… what exactly do you think you can do?"
"Brother. At the asylum, I learned a great deal about curses. The fact that I've improved this much is thanks to that knowledge. Ghosts are clearly linked to curses, so wouldn't what I know be of some help?"
"Young master. Does that mean you've learned black magic?"
"Only where curses are concerned. And not casting them — breaking them."
"Hmm…"
"Fine! Paulo. Let's trust him this once. We don't have any other plan anyway. Nothing to lose if it fails."
"…Understood. Though whether the baroness will allow it…"
"I'll handle Mother! Little brother. Plenty of people in this territory still think Father only has two children. Go make your face known while you've got the chance."
"Thank you, Brother."
Cain gave my back a light clap of encouragement. The sheer difference in our builds nearly knocked me over.
Then lines of text flickered through my mind.
Village Goodwill
You have accepted the quest.
Resolve the ghost problem plaguing the fields of Grat Village.
This frail body of mine couldn't manage a horse on its own, so we decided to take a carriage. I really needed to build up my stamina soon.
My mother, the Baroness Manfred, heard I was going out and came rushing over in a panic. If I absolutely insisted on leaving, she said, I was to take Sophie along in the carriage to attend me. Sophie seemed to have earned a fair amount of Mother's trust as a maid.
Then Clara appeared wearing a skirt instead of perfectly serviceable trousers, claiming she would have trouble riding a horse herself and wanted a place in the carriage. The carriage was far too cramped for three. Sophie and I said we didn't mind riding in a large cargo wagon, but Clara dug in her heels, insisting that a noble couldn't possibly ride in a freight cart.
Clara was the only member of the Manfred family who actually behaved like a proper aristocrat. No doubt that came from her education at the Academy.
In the end, Sophie stayed behind at the castle.
Inside the rattling carriage, Clara and I sat facing each other.
"Brother. Did you truly have to involve yourself? Mother is so worried."
"If you understood that, you might have at least let Sophie come along."
"W-well… the carriage is small… and my clothes…"
"No. I'm not trying to scold you. I should be grateful, really. You don't trust me to handle this, so you want to stay close and keep an eye on me. Right?"
"It's not that I don't trust you, Brother…"
According to Luke's Biography, Clara was destined to become a highly skilled mage. Even now she could handle beginner-level magic with ease. Inside this territory, there were precious few who could stand against her.
From the perspective of someone with that kind of power, my stepping forward must have looked unreliable indeed.
"Brother. Do you truly have a plan for dealing with the ghost?"
"I'll know once I see it, but ghosts are usually tied to curses. Is there anyone in our territory closer to curses than I am?"
I had a fair amount of confidence. I had exorcised more than my fill of ghosts back in Luke's Biography. Between the occult knowledge I carried and Karl's innate talent for black magic, the odds were good enough.
"We've arrived!"
At Brenden's call, we climbed down from the carriage.
Grat Village. A nondescript farming hamlet thick with the smell of manure.
"Begone, evil spirit!"
— Begone, evil spirit!
"Begone, evil spirit!"
— Begone, evil spirit!
The village was rather noisy. People had gathered in the direction of the fields, chanting the same slogan over and over. Leading them was a middle-aged man in priest's robes.
So he had been beaten by the ghost and run away — and this was all he was doing afterward?
"Priest! Let's have a word!"
"Brenden! At last! Does the baron consent? We must request support from the nearest parish at once!"
The priest spotted Brenden and approached with a smile.
"The boss isn't here right now. So…"
"Ah. So that is why Lady Clara has come. But beginner magic will be of no use against a ghost, my lady."
"Ah… I…"
"No!"
Brenden cut Clara off and thumped me hard on the back. A sharp jolt of pain shoved my body forward.
"Today's man in charge is this fellow here."
"Is this some kind of joke? What is a scrawny little brat like this supposed to do? And look at those eyes — black as a demon's."
"…"
Before the possession, I had been something of a cradle believer, so I had never held any particular prejudice against religion or the clergy.
I had a feeling that was about to change.