The Spectral Woman (2)
"You joking right now? What's a skinny little brat like you supposed to do about anything? And those eyes—black as a demon's."
"You son of a—!"
Brenden looked far more furious than I did at the insult. His face flushed so red it seemed ready to boil over. The men who served Baron Manfred were fiercely loyal; hearing the baron's own son spoken to like that was more than they could stomach. Still, thrashing a priest would only make things messier, so I spoke before Brenden could finish his curse.
"Good day to you, Father. I am Karl Manfred, second son of Baron Manfred."
"Wh—what? I beg your pardon? Second son?"
"I've spent the past several years convalescing at a mental hospital in a city called Statia."
"Ah…? Ahhh! I—I see. My deepest apologies. I've only recently arrived in the Manfred Barony, and I was under the impression the baron had only two children. I meant no offense."
Meant no offense. As if that hadn't been the purest expression of his true feelings he'd managed all day.
— Young Master Karl is back?
— Who's that?
— The lord had a sickly son, remember?
— Did he?
The villagers gathered at the edge of the field murmured among themselves. Just as Cain had said, plenty of them didn't even know the baron had a second son. Hardly surprising. I'd never shown my face outside, and no one had dared gossip that the baron kept a mad boy who saw phantoms—not if they valued their necks in front of the baron's greatsword, and not if they wanted to understand why people called him a brute.
"Even if I weren't a noble—even if I truly were nothing more than a black-eyed, scrawny beggar—I have to wonder whether a clergyman who has entrusted body and soul to the will of God ought to speak that way."
"H-hahaha… Y-you're quite right… I've been on edge ever since the ghost injured me… I truly am sorry."
I didn't even need to lean on his status as a priest. Ordinary believers weren't usually this lacking in manners.
"I'm well aware that the clergy of Lumenic answer to no particular nation. Even so, when a noble of the Laviart Empire introduces himself first, might I at least have the courtesy of your name?"
"Ah! Forgive me—I really am sorry. I've been so flustered… I am Father Thomas."
"Father Thomas. It seems neither of us made the best first impression. Let's both try to do better going forward."
"Y-yes… of course… haha…"
Of course I had no intention of doing any such thing. Whether Thomas did was of no interest to me either. I preferred to leave our relationship exactly this uncomfortable. Thomas's goal was to spread the will of the Lumenic Church across this land. I had no desire to watch fanatics of that church flood the territory I meant to live in.
"B-by the way, you said you were at the mental hospital in Statia. How was it? Seeing you return looking so healthy…"
"The day before I was discharged, they discovered a black mage posing as one of the hospital priests. A little longer and I would have gotten a look at the Inquisitors."
"……"
Having reduced Thomas to complete silence, I glanced back over my shoulder, wondering if Brenden's temper had cooled at all. He was staring at me with round eyes. Clara had both hands clamped over her mouth for good measure. What was that about? I looked at them as if to ask whether something was wrong, but neither offered an answer. So I turned my gaze back to Thomas.
"Shall we return to the matter at hand, Father Thomas? I heard a ghost has been appearing here, and I've come in the baron's stead."
"Yes! It's right there in that field!"
Thomas pointed. Beyond the anxious villagers stretched a fairly large plot of farmland. Crops stood tall and dense—every last one of them withered. The ghost's doing, no doubt. A curse is sustained by its host's life force and collapses when the host dies. But a curse that appears after death is different. It draws life from somewhere else. That was why this field had died.
"The ghost has ruined the field! If this continues, the people of Grat will starve this year!"
"I don't see it at the moment."
"It reveals itself once you reach the center of the field. I tried to drive it off myself, but I was no match for it! We must request aid from a larger parish and summon priests of deeper faith!"
Father Thomas kept ranting as if in a frenzy, no doubt trying to heighten my sense of urgency. I took my eyes off him and fixed them on the field alone.
"If we lean on God for every trifling thing, then what was the point of Him granting us strength and freedom in the first place? Wouldn't you agree?"
"I—I'm not saying we should depend on Him for everything. Only that this particular trial is beyond what we can handle."
"We don't know that yet, do we? We haven't tried everything. Allow me to attempt a solution. You can always call for salvation afterward."
"Young Master Karl! The villagers will starve this year! We haven't a moment to—"
"This field is already dead. Solving the problem a day or two sooner won't bring the soil back."
"……"
"I hear you were injured facing the ghost, Father Thomas. Wait here."
The great power of nature would restore life to this land eventually—but not for at least a year. That the people of Grat Village were about to go hungry was already a settled fact. That much was none of my concern. I had come solely to deal with the ghost. First I needed to get a look at it.
"Brenden. We need to go into the field."
"Whaaat? You sure that's a good idea?"
"Clara and I—"
"Brother? Won't that be dangerous?"
"If I don't go see it myself, I can't solve this. And just one more person. Bringing a crowd won't help. It's a ghost."
"Then I'll go."
"No. Brenden, stay here and keep watch. Make sure no one else enters the field. Among the men you brought, is there a warrior who won't freeze up at the sight of a ghost?"
"Hmm… in that case… Andy! Get over here!"
"Yes, sir!"
At Brenden's call, one of the soldiers who'd come to escort Clara and me came running. Andy was a freckled young man with brown hair. He wasn't built like Cain—who took after the baron and was enormous—but he was still quite large.
"This one's good. Reckless as they come. Last time we were hunting monsters, he charged out ahead of the captain and nearly got himself killed alone. Andy. You guard the young master and the young lady."
"Yes, sir! Leave it to me! Young Master! Young Lady!"
Andy brimmed with confidence. Monsters were beasts afflicted by curses—creatures that grew to sizes no human could match and turned vicious as if permanently in heat. The recklessness to charge even something like that… No matter how bold a man might be, standing before something he couldn't possibly kill would still trigger an instinctive terror. Against a ghost, what you needed was exactly this kind of fool who didn't fear death.
"All right, Andy. First—"
"Anything you need, just say the word!"
"Carry me on your back."
"…Pardon?"
"Brother?"
I didn't have a choice. I needed to save my strength for the ghost. With this frail body, thrashing through that dense field would leave me collapsed halfway there.
The crops in Grat Village's fields had withered completely because of the ghost, but they still stood as high as a man's waist. Andy was as strong as he was large. With one arm he carried me on his back; with the other he cut a path through the stalks with his sword, striding steadily forward. The scent of crushed green sap filled my nose. Clara followed along the trail Andy cleared. From my perch on his back, I kept drilling them on the plan.
"…I know I've said it already, but this time we're only assessing the situation. We can't destroy the ghost right now. So don't push yourselves thinking we'll finish it today. That goes for you too, Clara."
"Understood!"
"Yes, Brother."
Still—for them to follow someone as untrustworthy as me this readily. I was glad of it. Things might actually go smoothly.
"Uh, Young Master. You were really something earlier."
"Pardon?"
"The baron and the rest of us are all country folk. Once a priest starts running his mouth, we've got no answer for him."
"Ah. Is that so."
Among the baron's men, precious few could keep their temper and hold a conversation with Father Thomas. Aside from Vice-Captain Paulo—who'd served as the baron's right hand since his bandit-chief days and kept everyone in line—there was almost no one.
"He's right, Brother. I saw you in a new light. Since when have you been so good with words?"
"Who knows…"
The original Karl had only ever rambled about the illusions he saw. To everyone else's ears it had been nothing but a madman's nonsense. I tended toward silence myself, but when a situation demanded speech, I spoke at length.
As we neared the center, the temperature dropped sharply. Goosebumps prickled across my skin.
"It should appear any moment now."
Black energy welled up from the earth and filled the space like a murky fog. Then the energy gathered at a single point and took shape. For an instant the form of an ashen woman seemed to appear—only for shadows to swallow the figure whole.
"Kh—?!"
My body locked up without warning. Panic flared, then I understood. That was an illusion. A form shrouded in shadow. I had seen that kind of illusion before—on the girl afflicted with the Curse of Emotionlessness. Maria Caligosa. Maria's eyes had glowed violet as well, but that was a minor detail. The reason I was seeing the same illusion on both the ghost and Maria might be… because both were beings bound by curses. That was the only thing they had in common. Could the Curse of Illusion distinguish cursed beings?
Even with the Ark of Curses dulling the pain of the illusions, and the Curse of Emotionlessness erasing the terror, my body still trembled—not enough to stop my breathing, but enough. Illusions like this seemed to drive a deeper fear into the flesh than the ones I usually saw.
"Young Master! Are you all right?!"
Andy, pressed against me, had noticed something was wrong. I had to stay calm. If I lost my grip now, I would die for nothing. Silently chanting that none of it was real, I forced my mouth open.
"The plan… stick to the plan…"
"Understood!"
"I'm ready!"
Andy shifted his grip and secured me firmly with both arms. Clara focused, drawing her mana to its peak. Under its influence, the hems of her clothes and strands of her hair lifted gently into the air.
……Don't……
……come……
……closer……
The ghost's voice scraped like metal on metal. A moment later, masses of ashen fog came surging toward us.