Chapter 156
Chapter 156
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 156
Chapter Title: Northern Stranger
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*
It was the fifth night of the voyage. Fernandez Cerned had just finished drafting the report for the Church and was taking a moment to sip some tea.
A cold winter rain was cooling the city, which had been buzzing with feasts for days on end. Listening to the raindrops pattering against the window, Fernandez slowly savored his tea.
*Knock knock.*
At that moment, a cautious knock echoed from the door. No guests had visited in days, so Fernandez tilted his head curiously toward the sound.
“Come in.”
“Priest, Her Majesty the Queen summons you.”
“Queen Leia?”
Fernandez rose and draped his cloak over his shoulders. They still had two more days of sailing ahead, and Leia was likely pulling another all-nighter buried in the administrative backlog from merging with the Maleirn clans.
*Creeeak.*
Fernandez opened the wooden door and regarded the attendant standing outside. The man's nose was red from the biting winter wind.
“The throne room?”
“Yes, a foreigner has arrived.”
A foreigner come to this moving city adrift on the endless sea? Fernandez cocked his head again but followed the attendant out into the streets.
*
A heavy air hung over the throne room. Leia sat upon her jade throne, chin propped on her hand, gazing down at the human standing before her.
The midnight visitor was an old man clad in a long robe, his filthy dreadlocks unkempt, leaning on a staff that resembled a withered tree branch. His eyes gleamed sharply as he scanned the room restlessly.
“Long live the Great Serpent Queen of the Endless Seas and Vast Skies, Leia Fin Gaimern! The priest of Beitasser requests an audience.”
“...Didn't I tell you to drop those damned titles? Let him enter.”
As Leia grumbled, the throne room doors groaned open amid a clamor. Ministers, nobles, generals, and admirals all turned to stare at the man striding in.
*Thud.*
Heavy footsteps. Precise intervals, a confident stride. A straight back and a well-trained physique evident beneath the robe. Eyes weary yet glowing darkly. The human who had saved the Gaimern clan twice—nobles whispered softly.
“Ah, come in, friend.”
“Queen Leia. You called for me because a foreigner arrived?”
“Will you listen to what this man has to say?”
At Leia's nod, the foreigner eyed Fernandez with a bizarre expression. An elf treating a human with such deference? Grimacing, the old man spoke slowly.
“Serpent King's promise. We keep it. Why no.”
“...A northerner.”
Fernandez detected the distinctive nasal twang of northern speech in the man's odd pronunciation. Leia shrugged at the outsider.
“He can't speak the common tongue, or the western kingdoms' language, or even Elvish, but he insists on some deal. Demands to see the Serpent King. Mentioned Maleirn, so my soldiers bound him and brought him here.”
“Kaltar Feash?”
“Sarkan.”
After the brief exchange, Fernandez glanced at Leia, who nodded. Do as you wish. Fernandez approached the wary old man.
“What brings a northerner here? This isn't a safe coastline.”
“Came to ask if Maleirn king honored contract with us.”
“He's dead. That elf woman on the throne rules this land now.”
“Yes. Seems so. Means our tribe is finished.”
The old man sighed bitterly. He swayed unsteadily, as if he might collapse at any moment.
“Your fate could end here too, northerner. Queen Leia hates Maleirn, and didn't you side with them?”
“My fate doesn't matter. Surviving to this age is shame enough for me.”
The old man staggered, his dull eyes vacant. He rubbed his shocked face roughly with dry hands.
“But Hazat Phalen's fall... It's unstoppable now. No one left to stop the serpent.”
“...What are you talking about?”
“What use explaining? Leave me be. Or let those savage fae kill me. Or lend me a blade. At least dying in battle won't shame my ancestors.”
Fernandez stroked his chin thoughtfully at the old man's words. He turned to Leia, who lounged on her throne with bored eyes.
“Queen Leia. May I speak with him alone?”
“What secrets are you two plotting?”
“Looks like Maleirn and this man's tribe had a deal. I want to uncover it, but the setting isn't ideal.”
“Is it something we shouldn't hear?”
“Probably not, but he won't talk with you all here.”
Leia frowned at the old man for a moment. No reason to spare those who dealt with Maleirn, but no need to kill him yet either. She shrugged.
“Do as you like. Just tell me every damn detail of that bastard's dealings afterward. Alright, everyone. Court is dismissed. We'll reconvene the council tomorrow morning.”
Leia readily let Fernandez go. He whispered briefly to the old man and led him out of the throne room.
*
As soon as they entered the room, the old man slumped by the campfire and rubbed his hands. Fernandez handed him a teacup and sat across from him.
The old man sniffed and stared blankly at the cup. His face looked even more aged from the trek here.
“Cut to the chase. What deal did you have with Maleirn?”
“Southerners' business is none of yours. Just means the world's ending.”
“We live in this world too.”
“Damn it. Leave me alone. Strange starlight drew me here in haste, but too late.”
“Spare me the crap about Maleirn being some world-saving hero. He lacked the power, and even if he had it, he never would've used it for you northerners or the world.”
“Who'd think that sly old fae would save the world? Neither he nor us. Just using each other.”
The old man sighed and sipped his tea. Silence fell briefly, then he looked at Fernandez with resignation.
“Ever heard of the World Serpent?”
“No. Your tribal myth?”
“Yes. A tale of the colossal serpent that one day rises to devour the gods and the world. When the end comes, it awakens, twists its body, seas overturn, mountains crumble.”
“Every culture has such tales.”
Apocalyptic prophecies appeared in religions worldwide. Fire raining from the skies, seas rising, sun vanishing...
To Fernandez, they were all laughable. The end he'd witnessed wasn't in any scripture. Gateways to hell opening, the world twisting in mana corruption.
The world's end came from humanity's infighting and traitors within races. Followers swayed by demons' whispers, fallen mages. As one who'd led that charge, global doomsday myths amused him.
Fernandez smirked, and the old man's face twisted.
“Southerners are frail yet arrogant, blind to doom in the stars. No surprise. But that arrogance will doom you. The world's end has already begun.”
“Sure. World's been ending since last night. So Maleirn promised to stop it?”
“The gods surrendered to the World Serpent.”
“...What?”
Mid-sneer, Fernandez froze. The old man glared with burning eyes.
“Einherjar fell at last. Valkyries no longer guide warriors to the hall; lost souls wander as wraiths through winter peaks. The World Serpent's followers now gain power.”
“Cut the nonsense. What about the gods?”
The Holy Pantheon of Good Gods was sealed, its slumbering deities intact. Fernandez would've sensed any loss of power first.
So the gods this man meant weren't theirs.
“The wolf devours the moon and gnaws the sun. The World Serpent stirs from eons of sleep, seeking the neck of its nemesis. Jörmungandr, that cursed beast, has awakened.”
“Save fairy tales for grandkids. Talk gods. Your gods?”
The Holy Pantheon: ancient deities of civilized society. Beyond them lurked minor gods, demigods, lesser divinities.
In his past life, elves hunted minor gods in their lands. Those below the Pantheon's threshold slumbered worldwide.
The north surely harbored such beings. Never revealed even at world's end, so details were scarce.
During the Black Erik invasion, they had their own faith. Fernandez propped his chin, eyeing the old man. After a cough, the man spoke.
“Few years back, gods and spirits went silent. Village shamans tried invocations— all failed. Then came the oracle. The end approaches.”
“And?”
“Three months ago, the Kazaldar clan, servants of the god-king, declared for the World Serpent's prophet. Beat every chieftain at the clan moot and started war.”
The old man sipped his tea with dull eyes and continued.
“They're madmen proclaiming the World Serpent—slumbering since myth-times—awoke. End times near; gods can't lead us to glory anymore.”
“...Three months ago?”
“Yes. Around then.”
If not coincidence, Fernandez furrowed his brow. If not chance, it aligned with Mumto's death in the great wilderness.
“Kazaldar chieftain died; his young son became jarl. That whelp Erik. Swept battlefields with monstrous strength.”
“...Erik?”
“Yeah! That damn brat. Boy not even weaned from blood, smashing finest warriors of other tribes with hand-axes, breaking limbs!”
Erik's southern invasion was a decade from now. Assuming he'd waged conquests and unified the north by then...
“Then our jarl received the oracle. Aid the elf king in hunting gods. Before Kazaldar. Block divine power flowing to them—only way to avert world's doom.”
“Who gave the prophecy?”
“Dunno. Our jarl got no more after.”
Information swirled in Fernandez's mind. Erik, northerners, ununified tribes...
Gods and spirits. Likely minor deities slumbering near the north, not the Pantheon.
World Serpent's prophets gathering divinity, plotting something. Serpent. Why a serpent? Massive serpent dooming the world.
Laughable doomsday cult. Demons. Active since three months ago. Since Mumto's death?
'My god. It's her.'
-Sadarkelia...
Serpent Empress. Fallen dragon. Ancient entity among the five great archdemons. Goddess of scaled races, hell's lady lord.
Sealed since the War in Heaven, now stirring. If her, influenced by an archdemon's death...
'Seeking to slay the nemesis.'
-The Celestial Dragon Karadphelin guarded Sadarkelia's seal until the Great War.
'If her minions gather divine power...'
-To break the seal, kill Karadphelin.
-Tear the material veil, open hell's gates. Yes. The old man's right. Then the end begins.'
A timeline utterly unlike his past life. True end far off, time to prepare aplenty—or so he'd thought. Yet from an unforeseen quarter, an unforeseen name.
Fernandez narrowed his eyes, glaring into the old man's.
“Northerner. I need to meet your jarl.”
“...You'll aid us in the elf king's stead?”
“No. I won't hunt gods.”
Fernandez rose slowly and moved to the desk with his paperwork. He tore the last page from the finished report.
He fetched fresh paper, took up a pen.
“Different domain entirely. I'm a priest of southern faith, northerner.”
-Demonica, Fernandez Cerned. Proposing additional mission.
Fernandez pressed his seal into the candle flame atop the table, then onto the paper. Wax bearing his sigil spread in a circle.
-We shall burn heretics, demons, and witches.
“We hunt demons.”
With that, Fernandez tied the wax-sealed document pouch with twine. Return would be delayed awhile. He chuckled wryly, tapping the report's edge.