The Hero Party's Dilemma
Right after stepping into the interrogation room for the Hero Party’s Dilemma, a middle-aged male elf came into Amelda’s view. The instant she recognized his face, the anxiety she had felt upon entering this place grew even heavier.
“B… Bishop Brutus?”
“It has been a long time, Amelda.”
He was her mentor, the man who had used his connections with the Empire and the racial alliance to pave the way for her to join the hero party while she operated under the guise of a paladin. At the same time, he was the last person she wanted to meet now that she had returned in failure. Because of this, the guilt over her failure—which had already settled heavily upon her—grew even denser as Amelda sat down before Bishop Brutus.
“I have heard the general outline. In the end, this hero too failed to subjugate the Demon King…”
“Y… yes… Th-that is… correct.”
The bishop’s voice was oppressively heavy. Watching him, Amelda answered in a voice that barely crawled out, half-strangled by intense tension.
Bishop Brutus had always been stern and uncompromising in his principles. To Amelda he was an object of genuine respect, yet that same strictness filled her with fear. The knowledge that she would now have to lie to this very mentor pressed an even greater weight onto her heart.
Even so, Amelda fought with everything she had to steady her emotions and calm herself.
Calm down. No matter how formidable my opponent is, this concerns Torare-nim and the future of my comrades. Stay composed… Just tell the story exactly as I prepared it…
By recalling the face of the man she loved, Amelda barely managed to harden her resolve. She looked at the mentor before her and cautiously prepared to speak the prepared falsehood.
But then—
“Amelda…”
“Y… yes?”
Brutus’s voice had suddenly softened as he addressed her. The coldness that had filled his face moments earlier gave way to deep earnestness and concern.
“Bi… Bishop…?”
Seeing this unprecedented attitude from a mentor who had never been anything but strict—and seeing it directed at her after she had returned in failure—Amelda felt a jolt of bewilderment.
Bishop Brutus continued in a voice thick with desperation.
“I beg you to tell me the truth. The exact, unvarnished truth.”
“Pardon? Ah… y-yes… Of course I will. How could I possibly dare to speak falsehood before you, Master?”
Even as she spoke those words, Amelda’s heart remained firmly set on delivering the story that would sell out the hero. Yet right after she answered, the bishop seized her hand tightly and spoke with rising urgency.
“You must! You absolutely must! If even you refuse to speak the truth—if you do not reveal the clear reason why that hero had no choice but to be defeated—our Elf Theocracy will plunge into a crisis of unimaginable proportions!”
“Y… yes?”
The unexpected declaration left a flash of shock on Amelda’s face.
“Wh-what do you mean, Master? The Elf Theocracy… in danger?”
To her it was incomprehensible, a statement shocking in its very implications. Brutus, wearing an expression of raw fear he had never once shown his disciple before, began to explain the current crisis—the situation facing both the Elf Theocracy and the Pope in the wake of the hero’s defeat, a hero who had received the Pope’s oracle.
And then…
“…S-such… such a thing…”
Only then did Amelda truly realize she stood at a fatal and decisive crossroads.
“Quickly—tell me the truth at once! Why did His Holiness the Pope’s oracle fail to manifest? Why was the prophecy of the one who carries the will of the chief god Neltoraon proven false?!”
Brutus had completely abandoned his usual composure; he was practically wailing in supplication. Seeing him like this, Amelda found herself unable to utter the prepared lie.
If she told the story she had rehearsed, her own safety would likely remain intact. But after hearing Brutus’s explanation, she now understood with painful clarity that the moment she spoke those words, catastrophic harm would befall her homeland and her entire race.
On one side lay the safety of her comrades and herself. On the other lay the survival of her country and countless kin. After agonizing for what felt like an eternity, Amelda finally reached a decision.
“Th-the truth is…”
A sharp pang of guilt and sorrow pierced her. Yet she forced those feelings deep into her heart and, looking at Bishop Brutus before her, spoke with great difficulty.
“Everything… was because of that man… T-Torare. That man seduced us—the female warriors of the hero party—and made us betray the hero…”
In the end, Amelda chose her country and her people over her comrades. Yet it was not purely out of patriotism. Although that sentiment weighed heavily, the decisive factor that changed her mind at the final moment was something else entirely.
In that last instant, the image of Terra had flickered before her eyes. The comrade who had been coldly sold out for the survival of the others now seemed to mirror Amelda’s own situation. That vision became the final trigger that filled her with guilt yet ultimately led her to abandon her former allies.
That’s right… In a situation like this, the other two would abandon me without hesitation if it meant protecting Torare-nim. In that case, it’s better to…
Aileen was being “interrogated” by a junior she had not seen in a long time. Yet given the relationship between the two, the conversation that had begun under the pretext of questioning had gradually transformed into something that felt more like two friends chatting over tea.
“Exactly! That so-called hero—no, that Elan bastard. He looked decent enough on the surface, but in reality he was a complete pushover. All that talk about oracles and divine will, yet the moment he stood before the Demon King he froze up, couldn’t swing his sword even once, and got crushed!”
“I see… I had heard rumors of the defeat, but I never imagined it was that bad…”
Raphael nodded slowly as he listened. Seeing his reaction, Aileen continued in a voice thick with discontent.
“Damn it… If that pathetic fool had just held out a little longer, we could have wiped out the Demon King’s underlings and taken her head with our own strength. What good is raw power if your mind is rotten? When it truly mattered, he couldn’t do a single thing.”
“Truly a regrettable turn of events. To lose the chance to end the war right before our eyes simply because of the hero’s disgrace…”
“You’re telling me! I’m ashamed to even admit I was his childhood friend. In my heart I wanted to see things through to the end somehow, but we were simply overpowered and suffered this failure. Luckily, that porter who barged in at the last moment used an escape scroll, and that’s the only reason we barely made it out alive.”
In truth, Aileen knew the Demon King’s power far exceeded what they could handle. Yet regardless of that reality, she had agreed with the rest of the party beforehand to elevate themselves and Torare while ruthlessly disparaging the hero. So she continued spinning her tale, mixing in plenty of bravado and outright lies.
After finishing her tirade against the hero, Aileen leaned back in her chair with a deliberately sullen expression. Raphael smiled faintly, nodded, and calmly summarized what he had heard.
“To summarize, the hero became terrified at the sight of the Demon King, performed miserably, and was defeated. As a result, the warriors of the hero party had no choice but to retreat with the porter’s assistance. Is that roughly correct?”
“Yeah, that’s it. If anything feels lacking, feel free to call in the others for cross-examination. Everyone who was there witnessed the hero’s pathetic final moments clearly.”
“There is no need. This was precisely the outcome both we and His Majesty had been hoping for.”
“What?”
The unexpected remark made Aileen’s face cloud over with suspicion. The vague sense that something about this situation had felt off from the beginning now crystallized into clear doubt.
Now that I think about it, this whole affair has been strange from the start—using solitary rooms for such meticulous questioning and all. Which means…
Harboring deep suspicion, Aileen asked Raphael in a cold voice.
“So there really is something more to this hero party’s failure, isn’t there?”
“Yes, there is. Conveying that information to you, Senior, and carrying out the next step was the role assigned to me this time… However, it appears there is no need for any fabrication. You may simply speak the truth as it is.”
Raphael’s answer carried far more gravity than it had during the earlier interrogation. After reflexively checking once more that no one was listening nearby, he leaned in and carefully whispered a single fact into Aileen’s ear.
“Th-that… is that really true?”
“Yes. Since you too were appointed high priest by His Majesty, you must already be aware… His Majesty intends to carry out ‘that plan’ at this very opportunity.”
“Ah…”
For a moment Aileen’s expression showed that what she had expected had finally arrived. Yet she immediately asked another urgent question as a new thought occurred to her.
“W-wait. If that’s the case, what happens to the others who were captured? Shude is one thing, but what about Amelda?”
Raphael answered in a voice laced with bitterness.
“That elf paladin… the chances of her survival appear to be quite low.”
“...!”
Aileen’s face stiffened into a rigid mask. Seeing her reaction—genuine shock at her comrade’s grim fate—Raphael continued with a truly regretful expression.
“The elves are no fools; they have taken some countermeasures. Bishop Brutus currently in the other interrogation room is the result of those efforts. However… it will ultimately prove futile. We have already taken steps on our end regarding that matter.”
“…”
Aileen immediately understood what Raphael meant by “steps.” She could also imagine exactly what fate awaited Amelda as a result. And as those realizations settled in her mind, one sentence automatically rose to the surface.
Perfect! Who would have thought another rival would be eliminated so conveniently?