The Investigation
“Did you enjoy your tour of this place, Jing?”
Jing nodded at the old man who stood before a simple altar, smiling warmly. Having apparently abandoned the lofty tone from their first meeting, the man now spoke to him with easy familiarity.
“I'm glad to hear that.”
“What is to become of me now?”
Surprised for a moment by Jing's direct question, his companion's eyes widened slightly before his smile returned.
“Since we cannot kill you, we shall let you live. And since we cannot mistreat you, we shall treat you as a guest.”
Always with the wordplay, Jing thought, clicking his tongue.
“And if I fail to prove that I am the Messenger of Amica, I remain imprisoned here forever?”
“As long as you aren't caught pretending, you will at least stay alive, won't you?”
At the playful response, Jing's lips thinned into a hard line.
Very few records remained concerning the followers of Amica. He only knew that they were as blindly devoted to their god as the citizens of the Empire were to Sierra Abaran. Even that was superficial knowledge he had managed to glean only because of his former status as the head of a ducal house. At any rate, it was clear that the old man was in a position where he could neither release Jing to the outside world nor put him to death.
“As you have probably seen from looking around, it is not a bad place to live.”
Pretending not to notice Jing's stiff expression, the Elder smiled warmly.
“Stop beating around the bush.”
“I am merely telling you to look on the bright side. I did say we would treat you as an honored guest, after all.”
Deciding that the old man was impossible to reason with, Jing crossed his arms and stood at an angle.
“If I prove that I am this so-called Messenger of Amica, can I leave?”
As Jing's tone grew rougher, he felt the young man named Ratel shift behind him, gripping the hilt of his sword.
“If that is His will... then yes, I suppose so.”
Jing raised an eyebrow. They've given me this much freedom based on mere possibility. If I actually turned out to be the Messenger, they'd probably prostrate themselves before me.
“Fine. Then what must I do? How do I get you to recognize me as this messenger or whatever?”
“I wouldn't know.”
“What?”
If Jing still had the bag the Seventh Prince had given him, he would have thrown it at the old man with all his might. The Elder raised both hands in a placating gesture, as if telling him not to get angry.
“Now, don't be so quick to anger. Priests never actually know anything. Anyone who claims to hear the voice of a god is a charlatan. Make sure you never fall for their tricks in the Empire, either.”
“But you are the Elder!”
When Jing lunged forward as if to grab the old man by the collar, Ratel, who had been standing behind him, immediately swept his leg to trip Jing's splinted right ankle. Barely dodging the sweep, Jing tumbled to the ground and stared in sheer disbelief at the terrifying youth who clearly possessed no respect for his elders. It was a massive shock to Jing, who had secretly harbored a favorable impression of Ratel ever since the young man had carefully splinted his right leg back in the cave.
“Well, calm yourself and look around. This is Amica's Space, after all. If you truly came here at Amica's calling, He will show you the way.”
Which also meant that if he wasn't, he would be stuck here for the rest of his life. In the end, aside from not being locked in a literal cell, he was right back where he started. Leaving behind those irresponsible words to make himself at home until then, the Elder departed. He did not forget to add that Jing should return to the Temple by evening.
“Before I leave this place, I will absolutely make that old geezer pay...”
Ratel approached the sprawling Jing and offered some encouragement.
“We don't have time to waste sitting around. Get up.”
Jing glared at him.
“Why? Are you going to help me, young man?”
“Yes.”
At the readily given answer, Jing narrowed his eyes.
“Why?”
Meeting Jing's gray eyes, which were filled with suspicion, Ratel shrugged.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes, a very big problem. How can I trust someone who tries to trip an old man from behind?”
“Look on the bright side. At least I didn't swing my sword at you while I was behind your back.”
Jing fell silent at the young man's calmly brazen attitude. This was rich coming from a guy who had threatened him at swordpoint face-to-face in the cave. It wasn't just the Elder. Every single follower of Amica had to be an absolute master at getting under people's skin.
Thus began Jing's life in this bizarre realm. Limping on his bad leg, he began diligently exploring the area around the Temple. Behind him, the black-haired youth, Ratel, was always in tow.
“Don't you have anything better to do?”
“This is the task I've been assigned for now.”
“Watching me?”
At Jing's question, Ratel replied flatly.
“The Elder told me to help you.”
Giving me some space would be much more helpful. Jing swallowed the retort, knowing it would be a waste of breath. He had been poking around here and there under the pretext of searching for the proof the Elder mentioned, but he had given up on that after just a single day. Proof? What proof? This place was nothing more than a peaceful village; there was absolutely nothing to investigate. Besides, hadn't the Elder said so himself? Anyone claiming to have heard the voice of a god was bound to be a fraud. Unless Jing performed an actual miracle right before their eyes, they would likely reject whatever answer he gave. As a highly insular community, they probably just wanted to keep a potential threat from leaving. He didn't have the luxury of time to play along with such games.
Jing glanced back at Ratel, who was walking behind him. The youth stared straight ahead, his face devoid of expression. Ever since Jing's slip of the tongue during their previous encounter, a subtle tension had hung between the two, who had never been particularly comfortable around each other to begin with. Whether it was because of Ratel's straightforward nature or because too much time had passed for the concept of parents to hold much weight, Ratel acted as though Jing's minor blunder had never happened. Thinking that bringing up something he had already said was fine might only reopen old wounds, Jing suppressed his discomfort and went along with Ratel's pretense. In any case, Ratel was the only person here who gave him anything resembling a proper answer to his questions.
Still, his efforts weren't entirely fruitless. After three days of diligent legwork, he had learned a few things. First, because the inhabitants here were largely self-sufficient, they had no need for currency. If they absolutely needed something they couldn't produce, they would slip outside, obtain it secretly, and return. When Jing asked how they acquired the currency used on the outside, Ratel had remained silent. They steal it, Jing concluded instantly.
Second, the people here all seemed remarkably relaxed and free of greed. They lived their lives at such a leisurely pace that it would be difficult to find anyone living so peacefully even in the most remote rural areas of the Empire. Whenever Jing asked them a question, their lack of response made him wonder if they were even listening. At first, he thought they were ostracizing an outsider, but by the time he spoke to a third person, he realized they were simply taking a very long time to process their thoughts before replying. He even began to wonder if the Elder had assigned Ratel to him out of consideration, to keep Jing from dying of sheer frustration. At least Ratel answered immediately when asked.
Lastly, the food was truly, deeply, horribly awful. Jing leaned against a tree, chewing on a piece of bread he had brought from the Temple—a loaf so gritty with rye flour it felt like chewing on sand. He liked eating his meals on this hill, which offered a sweeping view of the settlement below, as it gave him the illusion that the heavy burdens weighing on his shoulders were growing lighter. Not that it made the food taste any better. If he had been an ordinary noble elder who had never experienced the hardships of a battlefield, he probably would have spat it out instantly. At one point, he had suspected this was just another of the Elder's ways of tormenting him, but after a few dinners, he confirmed that the Elder also ate the same tasteless bread and watery gruel. A place devoid of all pleasure. Is that also one of Amica's teachings? No, I shouldn't dig too deep. Shaking his head a couple of times, Jing stuffed the rest of the sandpaper-like bread into his mouth and stood up.
“Hey, Ratel.”
“Yes? What is it?”
Having also finished his own sandpaper-like bread, Ratel replied at the sound of his name. Jing pointed toward a vast plain that stretched out, starting from a single large tree that looked like a zelkova in the distance.
“How far does that land stretch?”
“...”
It was merely a casual question to distract himself from his thoughts, but Ratel did not answer. What's this? Since the youth had never been slow to reply until now, Jing looked at him with a puzzled expression. Ratel's gaze was fixed on the far distance, his face as unreadable as ever. Finally, Ratel spoke.
“It goes as far as the eye can see.”
It was a more philosophical answer than expected. Is he mocking me? Jing wondered, but he quickly shook his head. Though the past few days had been brief, it was enough time to learn that when the youth answered in such a manner, he would not offer any further explanation.
“I see. And how many people live over there?”
“No one lives there.”
This time, the reply was too fast. It made no sense why no one would settle in such a vast, fertile-looking land. Come to think of it, when Ren had shown him around upon his arrival, she had also subtly avoided explaining what lay beyond that point. She had simply brushed it off, saying, “No one lives over there,” and moved on.
Jing tapped the crease between his brows. In the Empire, there were generally only three reasons why a habitable area remained uninhabited: it was owned by the Imperial Family, something that ate humans lived there, or...
“Are there magical beasts?”
“No, it's not that either.”
This answer was also swift.
“If you are looking for inhabited areas, the opposite direction would be better. There is truly nothing good to be found over there.”
“Right. I suppose so.”
Jing agreed readily, but he cast one last lingering look at the distant horizon. If there was no settlement in a place perfectly fit for human habitation, it had to be one of three things: it belonged to someone, something that ate humans lived there... or a massive secret was hidden there.
Having finished their meal, the two strolled leisurely back through the village. The sight of a tall, limping old man followed by a youth was quite conspicuous, but no one in this place seemed to care. Everyone simply focused on their own day at their own slow pace. Observing them, Jing was the first to speak.
“I didn't see anything resembling a library inside or outside the Temple. Is there a separate place where texts are kept?”
“There is one in the basement of the Temple.”
“Can someone who doesn't work at the Temple enter?”
“If you have the Elder's permission.”
“Hmm.”
Jing grimaced, reluctant to face that sly old fox of an Elder again.
“Then is there a public library or a bookstore for the villagers? I haven't seen any of those either. Are they further away?”
“There is no such thing in Amica's Space.”
At Ratel's casual reply, Jing asked in surprise,
“No books? Then do the people here not know how to read?”
“No, everyone knows how to read. They can write, too.”
Then is the Temple monopolizing knowledge?
“Surely you don't mean only the Temple staff are allowed to read the books in the basement.”
Ratel shook his head.
“Obtaining the Elder's permission is merely a formality. No one has ever been rejected. It's just that barely anyone looks for them in the first place.”
Jing narrowed his eyes. A strange place indeed.
Watching him, Ratel added with a strange look in his eyes,
“Even in the basement library, there aren't that many books.”
Ah. Jing fell silent at his words. The books gathered in the Temple were likely the very last surviving texts concerning Amica in the entire world. The rest would have all been burned or melted down. The last remaining books. Perhaps because the habits of serving the Abaran Imperial Family still lingered within him, Jing felt a pang of discomfort. He closed his eyes tightly before opening them again.
“...I would like to see them at least once.”
“Young Duke, we will arrive at the merchant guild in five minutes.”
At the words of the knight escorting the carriage, the Young Duke of Fides, who had been trying his best not to look out the window, let out a deep sigh.
The boy, who was set to enter the Academy next year, was continuing his successor training in accordance with the wishes of the late Duke of Fides. Today, he was on his way back from accompanying Tollin, who was managing business at a merchant guild owned by the Fides family.
The Young Duke did not like this road. To be honest, he had grown afraid of it. Every time he looked at the scenery outside, he was reminded of his father's face—the father who, until not too long ago, had taken him around with a warm smile. Remembering his kind father, who would stroke his excited son's head with calloused hands while looking out the window, made the Young Duke's chest tighten. Sometimes, a sharp sting would prick behind his eyes, threatening to bring him to tears.
He didn't tell Tollin or Pale. He didn't want either of them to know. Thanks to Tollin, who had indulged the Young Duke's stubborn insistence on riding in the carriage alone, this secret could remain his and his alone. Whenever he traveled this road, the Young Duke would draw the carriage curtains as tightly as possible and close his eyes. Today was no different.
Feeling a bit pathetic, the Young Duke clenched his small fists. Will I be able to overcome this fear when a long time passes? When I grow bigger and become an adult, will this sadness fade? It feels so massive right now that it seems like it will never shrink or fade. If so, is it impossible for it to ever disappear?
Thud! His deep thoughts were abruptly cut short as the carriage ground to a sudden halt, sending his small head bumping against the carriage wall.
“What is the meaning of this!”
Tollin's voice, sounding thoroughly displeased, echoed from outside.
“Young Duke, are you alright?”
“I am fine. What is happening?”
“It seems there was a minor collision. Please remain inside.”
Relieved by the knight's response, the Young Duke leaned back against his seat. As the boy relaxed, his eyes caught the carriage window, which had slid slightly open from the impact of the collision. The Young Duke quickly ducked his head, then slowly raised it again. There, he locked eyes with two pairs of round, staring eyes peeking into the carriage. They looked like two orphans who had sneaked over to satisfy their curiosity while everyone else was distracted by the accident.
“Uh... hello?”
Startled by the Young Duke's awkward greeting, the two children rolled their eyes in surprise before quickly ducking out of sight beneath the window.