Volume 1, Episode 16
In the end, the outsider who had thrown himself into Blanconia at the risk of his life was sent away from Blanconia after hearing only that maddeningly vague message from Winter Bell’s guardian: “Go back to where you belong and wait.”
Ren had tried to stay at the temple, insisting that he absolutely had to meet Winter Bell before he left, but Liliana had refused on the grounds that she couldn’t allow a non-priest to remain in the sacred grounds for long.
With even a guardian stepping in, he could no longer push back. So, with no other choice, he had to turn on his heel and give up.
At least one thing was fortunate: when it was time to leave the temple, a Door had been opened so he could return without having to cross the snowfields again.
Ren was transported outside Blanconia in a single step, without needing to shiver through the cold.
And one step behind him, Seherbian came through the Door and emerged from the snowy wastes of Blanconia, then began to walk slowly along the road.
“Now then. Carry the luggage for me, Mimir.”
“Purr-rumble!”
Mimir, equipped with the ability to transform into whatever form was desired, changed into a white donkey.
It wasn’t as fast as a horse, but it was perfect for hauling baggage, and in that shape its frame was easily large enough for Seherbian in his boy’s form to ride.
Seherbian set the bundle he’d brought onto Mimir’s back and strolled along at a leisurely pace.
Hartney Territory surrounded the snowy expanse of Blanconia, and if you followed the river south from there, along the broad vineyards and hills where cattle grazed, you would eventually arrive in the Rosaria region.
Following Mimir’s friendly guidance, Seherbian walked as lightly as if he were taking an afternoon stroll.
“It’s warmer over here.”
Unlike Hartney Territory, where winter still held everything in its grip, Rosaria, though not far away at all, had already slipped into spring weather.
Spring had come right after autumn. The Winter Bell’s strike had prevented winter from arriving.
He hadn’t walked for very long before the city wall came into view in the distance.
Since it was such a famous tourist destination, there was a castle that managed the artificial lake of Rosaria, and at the gate they performed inspections behind the walls to control the crowds of visitors arriving every year.
That much even Seherbian knew.
But then—
“Huh?”
As Seherbian reached the Rosaria wall, the scene before him was so unlike what he’d imagined that he stood there, momentarily bewildered.
“Why are there so many people?”
Rosaria Artificial Lake waiting list: 12,443 people total.
The all-purpose staff Mimir even supplied statistics.
Of course, he had expected the tourist site to be crowded and had followed along accordingly. But even so, there were far too many people waiting.
“Don’t tell me... that’s all one line?”
The waiting area consists of three lines. Line 1 is for commoners, Line 2 for nobles and honored guests, and Line 3 for commercial traffic.
Seherbian stared blankly at the line assigned to Line 1. As befit the commoner line, it was the longest of the three. To get to the end of that endless queue, he’d have to walk back along the road he’d come by for quite a ways.
“I’m not in Line 1, am I?”
Clergy are classified as Line 2.
For once, Mimir’s curt answer was extremely satisfying. Seherbian let out a relieved breath and made his way to Line 2, joining the queue. Even for a dragon-born with time to spare, standing in line for no reason at all was painfully tedious, so he wanted nothing to do with that endlessly coiling Line 1.
Fortunately, Line 2 wasn’t very long. It only looked that way because of all the carriages and entourages the nobles had brought with them; in reality it was a simple queue that moved quickly once your status was checked, so the end was already in sight.
The moment Seherbian joined the line, the person waiting ahead of him turned around and greeted him in a friendly voice.
“This line sure is long, isn’t it?”
Seherbian looked at him blankly for a moment, then nodded.
“Haha! I was getting bored trying to kill time by myself. Would you care to keep me company and chat a bit?”
The man in front, standing in line with nothing but a backpack slung over his shoulders and no carriage in sight, laughed brightly as he spoke.
When Seherbian gave a small nod, the other man introduced himself first.
“You can just call me ‘Ren.’”
I know.
In truth, Seherbian had deliberately followed him here. He had put just enough distance between them to avoid being noticed, then used the same Door to leave Blanconia.
The man with sun-bright golden eyes smiled innocently, unaware that Seherbian already knew him, and that he had even followed him.
“Are you a priest? You’re not an apprentice, judging by the pendant. May I ask which temple you belong to?”
“Blanconia.”
It was information he would have to reveal at the checkpoint anyway, so Seherbian gave his affiliation without much feeling.
“The Temple of the Winter Dragon.”
“Winter...?”
At once, the smile vanished from Ren’s face.
“Don’t tell me, of Winter Bell?”
“Yes.”
Meeting Seherbian’s calm gaze, Ren belatedly realized his rudeness and bowed his head in apology.
“Sorry, I was just startled. I actually just came back from Blanconia myself.”
“I see.”
“But in my memory, Winter Bell’s priest was brown-haired, a bit smaller... hmm, anyway, different.”
Seherbian recognized that the person he meant was Kisha Hartney, but he simply listened in silence without confirming or denying it.
Ren still looked puzzled.
“And I heard there’s only one priest of Winter Bell left now, so I was surprised—ah. Was that rude too, Dragon Priest?”
“Not particularly. I don’t consider common knowledge rude. I’ve left the temple, so you can speak comfortably.”
At the mention of having left the temple, Ren scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“Ah, you left the temple... Still, that’s truly amazing. A rare Dragon Priest of Winter Bell!”
The way his eyes shone made it seem as though he was pleased, yet the way his brow was furrowed made him look as if anger were simmering there too.
“The lower village of Blanconia. What was it called again, Hatus?”
“Hartney.”
“Ah, right! Hartney Territory. It was such an unusual event that even a royal mage was dispatched there. As for me, I never actually got to see Winter Bell’s face.”
Once Seherbian corrected the name, Ren finally remembered the rumor properly. The fairy-tale story of winter returning to a land that had gone a hundred years without it was already spreading across the kingdom.
People in the Alferios Kingdom found the news astonishing, but at the same time, they feared it in their hearts.
The fact that the long-slumbering guardian dragon, Winter Bell, had awakened.
In truth, he hadn’t been sleeping at all; he had merely been neglecting his duties, but the rumor was what it was.
“But did the priest meet Winter Bell? They said he was in such a deep sleep—was he even alive?”
“Yes, well...”
He was alive, all right.
Seherbian swallowed the rest of the line with a flat expression. Unless the world suddenly came to an end, he would still be alive a thousand years from now.
“You met him?”
Ren was visibly shocked.
“Priest, I have a favor to ask.”
“Yes?”
While Seherbian was still looking confused, Ren stepped closer and pulled down his hood. Silver hair, dirty from days without washing, fell in a messy tangle. It was the color of a sky heavy with clouds before snow began to fall.
Now properly formal, Ren bowed deeply as he made his request.
“Let me meet Winter Bell!”
“...What?”
Jingle.
The bell hanging from the white donkey’s neck trembled as if laughing at him.
Would you like to accept this prayer?
Shut up.
While Seherbian swallowed the curse rising toward the white donkey, Ren continued his desperate appeal.
“Isn’t there any way? Even once would be enough. I need to meet that dragon, no matter what.”
“Why?”
The reply came back with a faintly contrary edge.
Ren flinched, and Seherbian patted the donkey’s head, speaking in a lazy drawl.
“You don’t trust Winter Bell at all.”
“...!”
“If you hate him that much, why do you want to meet him? Do you have some wish to make?”
“Hmm. Haha, you’re sharp, Priest.”
Ren gave an awkward laugh, blinking in surprise.
“You’re right. Honestly, I’d like to ask him to bring winter back. But that’s not the only reason I want to meet Winter Bell.”
Just as I thought.
Seherbian’s tired sunset-colored eyes fixed on Ren.
You who resent Winter Bell—what else do you want from me?
Revenge that will bring your enemy to his knees in misery? Power to conquer the continent? Or perhaps a curse upon the country that refuses to acknowledge you?
But the answer Ren gave was very different from what he had imagined.
“I just want to kick that damn dragon bastard in the ass once.”
“...?”
Ren’s tone was so bright and cheerful when he said it that Seherbian could only clamp his mouth shut and say nothing at all.
This was a first.
Winter Bell hostility detected. Would you like to execute Adversary Elimination Mode?
Quiet.
Seherbian pressed down on Mimir’s head as it tried, without any sense of timing, to activate its protection mode.
Outwardly, it probably just looked like a priest affectionately petting his donkey, so Ren smiled and went on.
“Priest. Have you ever heard of the Varzian?”
Of course he knew.
Varzian was the formal name for the knights of winter, and could be seen as dragon knights who served Winter Bell.
Though no Varzian had come looking for Winter Bell over the past hundred years, and Seherbian himself had never shown the slightest interest in them, so they had never met face to face.
Still, even if they had only kept their name alive in form, symbolism mattered.
In the end, wasn’t Winter Bell the one who had come looking for him like this?
“I grew up in the Varzian from a young age. Lucky or not, I had silver hair.”
Ren hooked a finger through his own hair and twirled it idly. His silver strands glittered whenever they caught the sun, looking as cold as ice crystals.
“They said this silver color was Winter Bell’s blessing. The color that symbolizes the Silver Dragon, or so they say? Sounds like a joke, but well, it’s true.”
“I see.”
“Hmm, I’m stronger against the cold than most people. I’ve never even had a common cold in my life. This time too, I managed to survive ten days and nights in that freezing snowfield without dying, you know?”
Ren laughed as if he were joking, but Seherbian nodded with complete seriousness.
Those who received Winter Bell’s blessing gained cold resistance.
They would be less affected by the cold than ordinary people, and the damage dealt by frost would also be reduced. But there were limits, so the fact that he had endured ten days alone in Blanconia’s snowfields without any special equipment meant the blessing had been applied with astonishing strength.
So it was you, that child from back then.
The child whom Winter Bell’s whim had saved.
The child he had called twice.
And.
The king’s child.
The true owner of the overturned throne was the young man standing right before him, Ren.
Seherbian’s sunset-colored eyes narrowed for a fleeting instant, then returned to their languid light.