It's Not Over Yet (2)
The state religion of the Empire, serving Terra the Earth Mother Goddess, mother of all lands in this world.
The El Terra Order.
"Whew……."
Baldwin, one of its seven Archbishops, had recently been wrestling with a troublesome problem.
Of all things, it had to be the Cadena Flu.
Worse still, the outbreak had erupted, with terrible luck, in Vince Territory — one of the very destinations of his pilgrimage. If things went on like this, he would have no choice but to halt the journey altogether.
"……No. Absolutely not."
Baldwin shook his head.
How had he climbed to this position in the first place? He had weathered decades of vicious political warfare, refusing to yield even the smallest crack, all for the sake of becoming a Cardinal. And now, of all times, all that effort might dissolve into nothing — because of a mere flu?
What a laughable notion.
Ambition burned bright in both his eyes at that very moment.
Knock, knock.
"Show them in."
The door opened, and two men stepped inside. They bowed at the waist with impeccable courtesy.
"El Shia. Thanks to your care, we arrived here safely."
"El Shia. May the Goddess bless this meeting of ours."
Archbishop Baldwin nodded at the Order's greeting.
"El Shia. Both of you, take your seats."
He spoke from the seat of honor on a plush sofa.
"I heard you arrived in Shilin two days ago, but I've been so busy this is the first chance I've had to summon you."
"Think nothing of it. You are a terribly busy man. I am Moira Maine, a Level 5 mage of the Blue Tower."
"A pleasure to meet you. I am Neil Brion, Executive Director of the pharmaceutical company Newtech."
The Blue Tower, one of the Four Great Magic Towers, and Newtech, a corporation that had been sweeping up money from every corner of the continent in recent years. The reason the two of them had joined hands and come to see Baldwin was a simple one.
"What became of that plan you mentioned before — joining forces through a technical partnership to develop a cure for the Cadena Flu?"
At the Archbishop's question, Moira wore a silky smile.
"Why, it's proceeding smoothly, of course. As you know, the Blue Tower's potion-crafting tradition runs deep. And Newtech here is the finest pharmaceutical company in existence, producing a wide range of medicines."
"Cold medicine, painkillers, digestives, vitamins — all the way up to addiction treatments. There is no medicine in this world we cannot make, Your Grace."
The color brightened in the Archbishop's face at their bold boasts.
"Heh heh heh. Hearing that puts my worries entirely at ease. So, when can we expect it to be finished?"
"We've only the clinical trials left to complete."
"And once we pass that stage safely, we can receive official sales approval from the Imperial Food and Drug Administration."
"Oh, oh!"
With things going even better than he'd expected, the Archbishop clasped his hands together in prayer.
"El Shia. The Earth Mother Goddess is watching over this little lamb."
"Although……"
Moira opened his mouth carefully, reading the Archbishop's mood.
"As I'm sure you understand, these clinical trials aren't something that can be wrapped up in a day or two."
"And if we rush the process only to end up with a cure of lackluster effect, that would be a disaster in its own right."
"Just give me the conclusion. When, exactly, will the product reach the market?"
"……No matter what happens, we will have it completed within six months."
"Six months!?"
Archbishop Baldwin's brow furrowed as fury poured out of him.
"Absurd! By the doctrine of the Order, I must depart for Vince Territory in four months! Finish it within that time no matter what it takes, and bring it to me!"
"But the schedule……"
"Silence!"
BANG!
When his fist slammed down on the armrest of the expensive sofa, a heavy silence settled over the room.
Knock, knock, knock. It was the doorkeeper priest's knocking that broke the stillness.
"Tch. Show them in."
Having quelled his anger, the Archbishop turned to his two guests.
"Why didn't you mention that someone else was coming?"
"I beg your pardon? No one did."
"We are the only two who were sent."
Then who on earth……?
Just as the heads of all three men turned instinctively toward the door —
"Let's see, the Order's greeting, if I recall…… El Shia. Was that it?"
The man who entered the room was a young nobleman of such refinement he might have stepped straight out of a storybook. Draped in a pure white robe that suited the El Terra Order beautifully, he inclined his head lightly.
With great courtesy, yet precisely to the degree that it never became excessive.
"I bid you greetings. I am Oscar Crucian, a Level 2 mage of the White Tower and head of its Potion Crafting Department."
As the man slowly raised his head, his eyes curved gently, lovely as a crescent moon.
"I've come to deliver good news."
"……Good news?"
Baldwin frowned.
That was the greeting normally favored by the Order's itinerant preachers when calling on private homes. But surely no madman would come to proselytize to an Archbishop — to him, of all people.
"Nothing wastes my time more than pointless talk. What exactly is your business here?"
There was an unmistakable pressure in that voice — a warning to brace himself if his business proved worthless.
Yet Oscar replied without so much as a blink.
"I've come to sell a cure for the Cadena Flu."
"Hmm?"
Wearing an expression of surprise, the Archbishop looked at the two guests before him.
"What a remarkable coincidence. We were just discussing the very same thing."
"Ah, so that's why you opened the door without a hint of suspicion."
Oscar approached the sofa naturally, his gaze sweeping over the two men.
"Then might I be one step too late? Perhaps you've already signed a contract with these gentlemen……"
"Not at all."
The Archbishop shook his head firmly.
"This side isn't ready to make a deal yet — we were debating what to do about it."
"How fortunate for me, then."
"And what of the White Tower?"
His eyes held a peculiar expectation as he looked at Oscar. Having caught wind of exactly the answer the man wanted to hear, Oscar scratched that itch with satisfying precision.
"The White Tower, of course, is ready to do business this very moment."
"That's a lie!"
Moira Maine, the Blue Tower mage, leapt to his feet and shouted.
"The state of the White Tower is plain for all to see! Where on earth would those wretches find the money and the technical skill to produce a cure?"
"……Hmm."
The point did seem to carry some weight, and Archbishop Baldwin nodded along.
"That is certainly a reasonable suspicion. Oscar…… what was your name again?"
"Sage…… no, forgive me. Crucian. Oscar Crucian."
"Yes, Oscar Crucian. Do you truly possess a cure?"
"Who in this world would dare speak falsehood before an Archbishop of the El Terra Order?"
Drawing a small wooden box from within his robes, Oscar set it down before the Archbishop.
"Samples of the cure for the Cadena Flu."
"Oh, oh!"
The Archbishop opened the box at once, gazed at the medicine vials within, and nodded.
"Hmm. But there lies the problem — how am I to know whether this is genuine or not……"
He pondered something briefly, then spoke.
"If I were to make a deal with you, how many doses could you prepare, and by when?"
"Archbishop Baldwin!"
Moira raised his voice, wounded by the sense of betrayal — but it was Baldwin who barked back at him.
"How dare you! What exactly have you done to earn the right to raise your voice at me!"
"Th-that's not what I meant……"
"Weren't you the ones who weren't ready to make a deal in the first place?"
"But that's because the Imperial Food and Drug Administration's approval is…… Ah!"
As something dawned on him, Moira's gaze swung toward Oscar.
"Hey, you. That cure of yours. Has it received the Imperial Food and Drug Administration's approval?"
"It hasn't."
"Ha! Well, there it is. You see, Your Grace? The White Tower is no different from us."
"……Ahem."
Baldwin quietly set the sample vial back in its place. However urgent his circumstances, he could hardly rush into buying a cure that hadn't even undergone clinical trials.
Seeing this, Moira pressed his case once more.
"Your Grace. The moment the FDA grants its approval, our factories across the continent can supply whatever quantity you desire. No one on this continent possesses a faster production process than we do."
"……"
"And above all — that thing is a cure made by the White Tower. I state with certainty that a remedy produced by the combined efforts of the Blue Tower, with its long and storied history, and Newtech, the finest pharmaceutical company in existence, will prove far superior."
After a slow nod, the Archbishop turned his gaze to Oscar.
"What say you? If you have nothing to offer in reply, I'd like to pursue this discussion more deeply with these two gentlemen."
"……I'll concede two points: that we lack the FDA's approval, and that we trail in production speed. However."
A scornful smile, heh, spread full across his lips.
"Hearing the Blue Tower wax poetic about its long history is a little amusing. Especially standing before the White Tower, of all places."
"What did you say?"
Moira Maine's face hardened to stone. In the same instant, a killing intent so fierce that an ordinary Level 2 mage would have struggled even to breathe pricked at his skin.
"I'll take those words as the slip of the tongue of some Level 2 nobody, and give you one chance to take them back."
"Well, a slip of the tongue requires that you've said something wrong first, doesn't it……"
Bleeding that killing intent without a trace of concern, Oscar tilted his head with the genuine puzzlement of a man who truly did not understand.
"Why don't you answer for yourself? Which tower was the first ever built in the history of this continent?"
"……You mean to boast about a measly five years' head start?"
"Measly?"
Stressing the word, Oscar shrugged his shoulders.
"How amusing. Those five years you call 'measly.'"
Five years that every Blue Tower Master in history had yearned to erase — whatever the price. And more:
"A gap that will never, ever be closed — not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand."
"……"
That was what history meant. A truth, and a root, that once recorded could never be rewritten.
"And while you dismiss our cure, you seem to have forgotten that barely twenty years ago, the White Tower held a monopoly on the potion market."
"Hmph. That's ancient history no one remembers anymore."
"Ancient history no one remembers, you say……"
"……!"
Moira's body shuddered involuntarily. He couldn't have said why. The moment that young mage's gaze turned cold and still, his body had simply reacted on its own.
"Well, then, there's nothing to be done about it. I suppose I'll simply have to refresh your memory."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means we intend to take back the potion market we left in the Blue Tower's keeping for a little while."
"……Khh, haha! Kahahaha!"
Moira threw his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking. After laughing for a long while, he wiped the tears pooled at the corners of his eyes and spoke.
"How pathetic I am. To think I was listening this seriously to the prattle of a monkey who can't tell heaven from earth."
Shaking his head dismissively, Moira turned to the Archbishop, who had been quietly observing the proceedings.
"Very well. Your Grace — we will have everything ready within four months, so make your contract with us."
"Can you stand behind those words?"
"Yes. Even if it takes the Blue Tower's every resource, we will obtain the Imperial FDA's approval. If we fail, you may have my head."
At that confident declaration, the Archbishop slowly nodded as well.
"If you'll go that far, then I have no further reason to deliberate."
In effect, the negotiation with Oscar had collapsed. He had just returned to his desk and was searching for a pen to draft the contract when —
Bang!
A priest burst through the door, shouting.
"A-Archbishop!"
"Reckless fool! Guests are present — how dare you carry on so!"
"My apologies. But we've received a communication."
"A communication?"
The Archbishop stared at the device the priest had brought and asked:
"What matter is urgent enough for such a fuss? Could it be His Holiness the Pope……?"
"No. It's from the Lord of Vince."
"The Lord of Vince?"
Archbishop Baldwin's face showed rare surprise. Small wonder — he and the Lord of Vince had never once met face to face.
"Well, we'll know once we listen. Give it here."
He raised the device to his ear and spoke.
"El Shia. This is Baldwin, faithful servant of the Earth Mother Goddess."
Ah! El Shia! First, allow me to offer my gratitude for your grace, vast as the sea and rivers, Your Grace!
"……Gratitude?"
The Archbishop's expression turned puzzled.
He had done nothing worthy of thanks — what gratitude was this supposed to be?