It Was All the Porter's Doing
The Hero Party, bound by unbreakable trust, had failed their mission. To put it somewhat grandly, Torare and his group were dragged back to the castle bearing the sin of defeat. Rendered powerless by magic-sealing manacles, with blades hovering at the backs of their necks in this perilous situation, the four of them frantically rehearsed the story they had prepared, desperately trying to ease their tension.
They could not completely erase their responsibility as defeated soldiers, of course. Yet if they could speak skillfully enough here to shift most of the blame onto the hero, there was a very high chance the matter would resolve far more simply than expected. After all, Torare had officially been nothing more than a hired porter; holding him accountable was absurd in itself. Being hauled in like this was simply because he had belonged to the party, and there were simply too many ambiguous factors to justify any real punishment.
And quite apart from Torare’s situation, the three female warriors present could, by virtue of their exceptional value, carve open a path to survival if they simply talked well enough. They were women whose abilities and renown were acknowledged across every nation in the racial alliance. There was Aileen, the saint who had risen from diamond-grade mercenary—the empire’s highest tier—and been personally appointed high priestess by the emperor himself. There was Amelda, one of the Elf Theocracy’s highest-ranking paladins, recognized by the pope and said to have received a divine calling. And then there was Shude, one of the Magic Kingdom’s seven great mages, a witch of considerable fame who had piled up remarkable achievements in the war against the demon race.
Their clearly proven combat worth was far too valuable to discard over a single failure. The four of them believed that any sensible superior would gladly seize on a suitable excuse to let them off with light punishment. And so the four arrived near the interrogation room to deliver a report that would also serve as questioning.
At that moment…
“Kkh…!”
“Stay quiet over there.”
Unlike the other three, Torare was thrown straight into a cell. It seemed the higher-ups had decided there was nothing worth asking a mere porter. The realization left a faintly bitter taste in his mouth.
Tsk… I expected it, but this is how it goes after all… Well… If you really think about it, it means they aren’t even planning to hold me responsible, so it’s not entirely bad…
With that thought, Torare exchanged one last glance with the three women as they entered the interrogation room. From this moment on, his life depended on how well they spoke. In his heart, he began to pray they would make no mistakes.
Just do it exactly as we practiced. Then everything will work out…
After parting from Torare, the three female warriors moved deeper inside. The realization that their fates—and the man’s—would be decided by what came out of their mouths from this point forward weighed heavily on them. They stared at the interrogation room door now visible ahead and steeled their resolve once more.
But then—
Huh?
W-wait, where are we…?
In the next instant, the soldiers holding them split off into three separate directions. At the same time, each woman caught sight of a different interrogation room door located quite a distance away.
What… what is this? How did it come to this?
This is wrong… Why…?
What on earth…
Normally, responsibility in such cases was assigned collectively and handled all at once. In fact, every previous failed hero party or military unit had been dealt with that way. The standard interrogation method was to gather everyone in one place and determine right and wrong through confrontation. From Aileen’s experience attending several such sessions as an observer in the past, this had seemed almost certain.
Which made the current situation feel distinctly ominous to Aileen and the others. Yet even as anxiety gnawed at them, they fought to remain calm, desperately soothing themselves with positive thoughts.
R-right… They’re just questioning us separately. The method changed a little, that’s all. The things I need to say haven’t changed.
It will be fine… We all made a promise…
Something feels off… But there’s no need to worry. If we simply tell the story exactly as rehearsed…
Forcing themselves to cling to optimism, the three female warriors were led into interrogation rooms in completely different directions—solitary chambers where none of them could hear what the others said.
“!”
“Ah…”
Upon entering her interrogation room, Aileen recognized the person waiting for her alone and felt the anxiety etched on her face wash away in an instant.
“Raphael!”
“It has been a long time, Senior Aileen.”
The clergyman Raphael offered her a light smile. He was the junior priest who had once followed her devotedly, the very man whose career had truly taken off thanks to her patronage after she became high priestess. The moment she saw someone she could call an ally sitting as her interrogator, Aileen thought that God had not yet abandoned her. Her heart grew noticeably calmer as she took her seat.
“I never imagined I would meet you in a place like this.”
“Indeed. I, too, find it truly regrettable that I must interrogate my senior in this manner.”
Aileen spoke with a mixture of gladness and sorrow. Raphael answered with genuine bitterness. Seeing his expression, she realized once more that—even though she had returned in failure—this place was still her homeland, her base of power: the Falcon Empire. She regained a measure of composure.
That’s right… I don’t know about elsewhere, but this is the Falcon Empire—my motherland, my stronghold. While I was away with the hero party I had forgotten… just what kind of person I truly am…
Of course, none of that changed the fact that she currently stood as a criminal who had failed her mission. Even if the worst outcome—execution—was unlikely, she could not afford to fully loosen the reins of tension if she wanted to get through this without lasting damage.
With that judgment, Aileen began recounting the events that had befallen the hero party, exactly as they had agreed upon beforehand.
Amelda, paladin of the Elf Theocracy’s papal palace. Once an ordinary attendant, she had heard the voice of God and set out upon the path of the paladin. She had since been revered as one of the greatest of her order, accomplishing countless feats. Yet a life forever bathed in the envy and expectations of others had always weighed upon Amelda like iron shackles.
One who receives God’s call must remain pure. One who receives God’s call must always sacrifice for others. One who receives God’s call must suppress every desire. These phrases had followed her like tags from the moment she opened her eyes each day, piling unresolved longing and conflict deep inside her heart. Even after she set forth with the noble mission of the hero party, those thorns remained lodged within her.
But the life that had demanded nothing but endurance from her began to change one day—changed by the man who had seen straight through her hidden desires. It changed because of the porter Torare.
It began against her verbal refusals, forced upon her. As a paladin, as one who had received God’s call, she had spoken of nobility and refused. Yet the man had drugged her in advance, forcibly prying open the desires she kept locked away. Even as her mouth continued to refuse, her heart could not lie. The long-suppressed lust and greed erupted all at once. The pleasure it brought far surpassed anything she had imagined. Captivated by that ferocious sense of liberation and joy, she heard Torare’s sweet voice.
From now on, he told her, she could be honest with her desires. She no longer needed to lie to herself. Let them live together the life she had truly longed for. The words sounded like a devil’s temptation, yet to her they felt like salvation. The porter had accurately drawn out her true nature and given her exactly what she had always wanted to hear. His actions completely captured both her body and heart. In the end, Amelda took the hand he offered—as his lover, as his slave.
Thus she chose not the hero who thought only of saving the world, but Torare, who fulfilled her desires. She began to dream of a happy future at his side. Even so, the sense of mission to defeat the Demon King and end the war still remained inside her. Though she had broken the shackles of suppressed desire, her pride as an elf endured, and her patriotism toward the Elf Theocracy stood firm.
Yet Amelda decided on a path that would let her fulfill both her mission and her desires at once—a path that would grant the achievement of slaying the Demon King to her master and beloved, Torare. She would stab the chosen hero in the back the very moment he fulfilled the oracle given by the pope. For her own happiness. For the man who had brought her that happiness.
Having firmed her heart for the sake of her lover and master Torare, Amelda still felt some reluctance at the thought of dishonoring the hero’s name. Nevertheless, she had chosen to protect her trust with her living comrades rather than a dead hero. And at this very moment, standing before the interrogator dispatched from the Elf Theocracy, tears streaming down her face, the words that flowed from Amelda’s lips were—
“I-it was all… because of that man… T-Torare… That man tempted us… to betray the hero…”