A Two-Story House in Clenzer
Turnel. One of the nations closest to the Demon Realm, and a neighbor to the kingdom raised upon the ashes Semiramis herself had once reduced to cinders.
Above it lay Montfer; below, Lascas. Obrion pressed against its flank, leaving little room to stretch out — though the other kingdoms fared no better in that regard.
When they had set out, snow had still blanketed the ground in soft drifts. Now they had stepped into a season of tender green shoots and flowers blooming in riotous abundance.
Adonis felt a quiet ache settle in his chest at the thought of just how far they had come. The ground beneath his feet was no bubble of a dream. It was real.
The horse drawing the carriage gave a bright, ringing whinny and drew to a halt before the trading company Eric managed. Workers poured out at once. They offered Eric their polite greetings, then turned straight to the carriage piled high with goods. Having done this countless times before, they moved without a wasted motion.
"Thanks to you, it was a truly pleasant journey. You have my gratitude."
Eric stood off to one side so as not to get in the way of the unloading, and held out his hand in warm welcome. The mercenaries and the company folk who had traveled with him did the same. Meeting Adonis and Semiramis had been unexpected, but it had kept the fatigue from piling up; there was still strength left in their eyes. Without those two, they would have arrived hollow-eyed and half-collapsed, clinging to the mere hope of rest.
"I'm the one who should be thanking you. Safety, firewood, food, the carriage, even a place to sleep — there wasn't a single thing I didn't end up owing you for on the way here."
"Hearing you say that makes me feel like my nose is growing three sizes."
Eric laughed heartily, and Adonis laughed with him. It was awkward, but it wasn't forced. At least, that was how Semiramis saw it as she accepted the greetings of the other men. She had spent a fair stretch of time on this journey, yet she judged it time well spent. She had seen and heard for herself how the continent was turning.
"Ah — what are your plans from here? Do you mean to secure a building right away, or will you take a little time first?"
"Hard to say. I think it would be best to start looking for a building at once. We've been treated so well that I'm not particularly tired."
The quiet praise made Eric beam with pride. As a merchant who had tasted both the bitter and the sweet, he was skilled at managing his feelings — but he did not always keep them locked away. With someone he trusted, someone like Adonis, he opened his heart. Just as he was doing now.
A building, was it.
Sensing his moment, Eric gathered himself and spoke with careful calm. More than simple gratitude, a merchant's instinct whispered that this was a friendship worth deepening.
"Well. If you wouldn't mind, would it be all right if I looked into it for you? I have a fairly wide reach around here, and I have connections with real estate brokers as well."
"Oh? If you're offering, I'd be grateful. But I worry I might be imposing too much."
"Imposing? The debt my people and I owe for all those free massages is far greater. Please — accept it without reservation."
Adonis felt the weight of Eric's bowed head, but in the end he nodded. A kind offer could not always be received with pure joy, yet refusing often left the other party wounded. With that in mind, acceptance was the only real choice — all the more so when the man was someone worth keeping close.
"I'll leave it in your hands."
"Of course. Leave it to me. I've heard your capital is ample, so I'll pull together properties with favorable terms and let you know. In the meantime, though it may be a little inconvenient, I thought it best if you stayed at an inn nearby… Would that be acceptable?"
"If it makes it easier to exchange news, then yes. I'll be waiting for good word."
The moment Adonis agreed, a fire lit in Eric's eyes. It was plain that profit alone had not driven the offer. Semiramis knew the man well enough to keep her silence, and soon they stepped into the nearby inn room he had recommended.
"Are you certain? Leaving everything to that human. You could easily end up overcharged — what people call getting fleeced."
"As long as the building itself is decent, I don't mind being fleeced a little."
Whether it was age or simply Semiramis being Semiramis, Adonis found himself watching her with mild wonder as she tossed out the word fleeced so naturally. He slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed. Semiramis settled beside him, her gaze full of affection.
"If you say so, I won't press the matter. I simply disliked the look of you being taken advantage of."
"Thanks for worrying about me."
Adonis took her hand and smiled, and Semiramis lifted the corners of her mouth in answer. She had already decided they would spend the rest of the day quietly — talking, without working up a sweat. Adonis was of the same mind, and so he remained easy and unhurried, without a trace of restlessness.
From the next day on, aside from meals and sleep at the inn, they walked the surrounding streets, taking the measure of the place. They still did not know which district Eric would find them a house in, but they circled the city, noting what stood where. Since they meant to settle and live here, it was only natural.
Several days passed like that.
Just as they were about to leave the inn to survey the northern quarter, a messenger from Eric arrived at last with the news they had been waiting for.
"Welcome. I've been expecting you."
When they reached the trading company, Eric was already outside to greet them, his welcome warm. Barely finished with the formalities, he led them personally, and before long they stood before a two-story building. There was a touch of excess in the hospitality, but it had been so thoroughly comfortable that refusing was impossible.
"This is one of the two-story buildings we spoke of earlier. I've lined up about four others as well — shall we look at all of them?"
"Yes. Let's start with this one."
Every property sat close to Eric's company; his intentions were transparent. He had praised the place so tirelessly that of course he wanted them dropping by whenever they had a free moment. Adonis saw straight through him, but decided it was not such a bad arrangement, and stepped inside.
It was rather good.
One room suitable for massage work. One for a bath. A kitchen. And rooms prepared upstairs. The space was just right, and clean. Above all, it was neither too bright nor too close to the back alleys. A solid location, all told.
Even so, he walked through every remaining empty house just to be sure — and in the end settled on the first one they had seen. Semiramis, who had followed quietly at his side, cared nothing for which house they bought. Eric, on the other hand, was unusually pleased. The first property he had shown them was the closest to his company.
A two-story house in the western quarter of the Clenzer Countship, in the Turnel Kingdom.
For the time being, this would be where Adonis and Semiramis made their home.
For some time now, a rumor had been circulating quietly among the Empire's nobility.
The members of the old expedition that had once toppled the Demon King had begun searching for Adonis in secret.
They had paid him no mind until now — and suddenly they wanted the Hero found. Those who heard the rumor traded questions over the suspicious turn, word passing from mouth to mouth. And so it was inevitable that the matter would surface at the Church's highest council, attended by the Pope, the twelve cardinals, and the Saintess herself.
After all, that very Saintess — Isabel — had been one of the expedition's own.
"By the way, Your Holiness the Saintess — have you heard the rumor making the rounds?"
A middle-aged man with a neatly kept golden beard chuckled as he opened the subject. It was the informal exchange before the proper session began, so there was no stiffness in the air. This was less a pure social hour than a field for sounding one another out — which made it all the more useful.
"Pardon? Which rumor do you mean? It sounds like something rather interesting… If you wouldn't mind, would you share it with me as well?"
Seated immediately beside the highest seat reserved for the Pope, the Saintess Isabel asked with a full, gentle smile. Voice, expression, eyes — all of it overflowed with softness and mercy.
The middle-aged man who had spoken first — Georges — kept his own smile and answered in a tone that might have been mere passing curiosity.
"Word is that those who took part in the Demon King's subjugation are searching for the Hero. Has Your Holiness heard anything of it?"
"…Yes. Embarrassing as it is, that is the truth."
"Ah, I see. But why only now decide to seek out a Hero whose whereabouts have grown so uncertain?"
The Saintess herself was one of the parties involved. Moreover, a discreet inquiry into the rumor's authenticity had already confirmed it was no idle talk. The source had been those loose-lipped nobles — and among them, the gatherings of noblewomen where information flowed most freely. Of course it was genuine. And so the question of why they were now, and so secretly, tracking the traces of a Hero they had once branded a coward was deeply intriguing. Georges did not imagine their motives were purely noble. At least, that was how he thought as he probed Isabel — though he sensed he was still a step short of shaking her composure. She had the air of someone who had long since prepared her answer, knowing such a question would come.
"Coward though he may have been called, he was the Hero. In the end, it was because of him that we were able to bring down the Demon King. And yet we failed to embrace him, and branded him a coward instead… Yes. That was clearly my fault — and ours. So, belatedly, I wished to find the vanished Hero and beg his forgiveness. At the very least, we should never have done that to him."
"Mm… There is reason in that. Coward or not, the fact remains that the Hero was part of the expedition. But why search in secret?"
"Because it is a deeply shameful matter. And I believed that making a public spectacle of it would only wound the Hero further. Besides, coming to him like this so late… he might even feel it as a kind of violation."
A face darkened by guilt she could not contain. Shoulders drawn in. A trembling voice. To any eye, she was the very picture of a person wracked by conscience, seeking belated repentance. The way she laid bare her own failings rather than hiding them was worthy of a Saintess. And those failings were not even so grave — not in the eyes of a continent that had long accepted the Hero's cowardice as common knowledge. Those who held to neutrality, and those who followed the Saintess, wore expressions of deep impression.
Push further? Or let it rest?
In that brief span Georges weighed the choice carefully, and decided to close the subject here. The ease lingering on Isabel's face suggested that dragging it out would yield nothing more. The council session was about to begin, besides.
Had Georges realized how blackly Isabel's insides were burning, he might have handled it differently.
She still sat with that gentle curve at her lips — but her eyes were badly shaken. The nightmare that had been reality rose unbidden: every fingernail on both hands torn out. Even now she could almost feel the swollen, raw-red flesh still bleeding.
I'll be back again.
Even as the Pope announced the opening of the council in a solemn voice, only Adonis's voice echoed through Isabel's mind.
Until he died — or until she did — that voice would never stop. Nor would this pain she still felt.
So I have to kill him first, Isabel thought.