Volume 2, Episode 4
Thanks to Cassio, who excitedly rattled off the story of how Seherbian had come to join them as though he were recounting an adventure tale, the residents of the Varzian camp stared wide-eyed in wonder as well.
“A priest joined Varzian?”
“Aren’t priests supposed to belong to the Papal See?”
“Ohhh, so that’s why he’s dressed like that. But can a cleric even join some other organization?”
“Hehe, see? Told you all! Our boss’s sales pitch is top-notch. We’re finally getting a priest in our camp—”
Clang!
Before Cassio could even finish, one of the guards drew a sharp sword.
“H-hey. Sir Zik.”
Flustered, Cassio called the guard’s name, but the grim aura around him didn’t fade. The blade was aimed straight at Seherbian.
“Hold it right there. Are you really a priest?”
Even with a sword pointed at him from arm’s length, Seherbian didn’t look startled or frightened. He merely stood there, blinking blankly.
“I asked you a question. Take off your hood and look me in the eye.”
Guard Zik pressed the stranger with an even colder voice. His stance was sharp, almost like a guard dog’s growl. And yet Seherbian felt no real sense of danger.
He’s been well trained to defend his territory. Recognizing strangers and not letting just anyone in is a good habit.
Rather, he found himself admiring the man’s discipline in his head. The quality he had praised was, after all, one of the basic virtues of a guardian protecting a dragon’s domain.
Whatever his inner thoughts may have been, Zik took Seherbian’s sluggish reaction as disregard for his words. He stepped forward, ready to take a harsher approach with the foreigner who wouldn’t obey willingly.
Purrrr.
“W-what the hell?”
Zik jerked backward in shock at the sight of a white mass that suddenly leaped out and snorted hotly at him.
“Potential hostility detected. Detection of intent to attack with a bladed weapon. I will eliminate the target threatening the master’s safety.”
“......Stay still, Mimir.”
The bell around it rattled violently in protest, but in the end the white donkey obeyed its master’s command and stopped stamping its feet, settling down. Even so, the red eyes fixed on its opponent still shone with a fierce, piercing light.
Seeing Mimir like that, Zik flinched, overcome with fear.
What is this? It’s not a bear or a wolf—why does a donkey have that kind of killing intent…?
At first he had backed away thinking it was some kind of vicious hound, but looking again, it was only a donkey with fur so white and soft it seemed almost refined.
Zik was mortified to realize he had backed down in front of nothing more than a donkey.
“I said it’s fine, Mimir. Don’t be angry.”
Seherbian soothed Mimir in a calm voice and took off his hood.
Then, under the summer sunlight, the dark crimson hair revealed beneath it instantly stole everyone’s gaze.
“Wow.”
The children were the first to gasp in open admiration.
Dragons born as the representatives of the gods possessed appearances that instinctively inspired fondness and awe in anyone who saw them. Strikingly red hair, soft sunset-colored eyes, and an air so strange it seemed almost impossible for reality to contain—he made an impression no one could easily look away from.
At that moment, the languid look in those eyes curved into a gentle smile.
Zik, startled, stumbled over his own words without meaning to.
“Y-your origin. State your origin.”
“I came from the Winter Temple.”
The gentle voice, as though it were stroking the human heart, suited the role of a priest perfectly.
“That’s right. He is the priest I met at the Winter Temple and invited to travel with us, Sir Zik Howler.”
And then Airen, the leader of Varzian himself, stepped forward to verify his identity. He also tipped his chin toward two others.
“Cassio and Jin were there when I proposed he join us.”
Once the two men who served closest to the leader voiced their agreement, the guard could no longer keep pressing Seherbian.
Zik lowered his sword and bowed his head in apology.
“My apologies.”
“It’s all right.”
And with that brief answer, Seherbian passed by him lightly.
Whether Zik stared after him in dumbfounded disbelief or not, the priest strode into the fortress with his head held high, while Airen and the other members exchanged looks and snickered softly behind him.
Set between the capital and the Wyvernest Mountains, the Varzian camp had originally been a dedicated base for the winter knight order Varzian, founded by the royal house of Alferios.
The camp had been built close to the capital so royal orders could be delivered quickly, and for convenience it even had a special road reserved for the knight order.
But by the time nearly a thousand years had passed since the camp’s founding, the royal family had long since stopped making use of them, contrary to the original purpose.
Once winter had earned its infamous reputation and Winter Bell had ceased answering, the Alferios royal house had naturally begun to neglect Varzian as well.
“At this point, you could say Varzian is basically an independent organization with no real connection to the royal family anymore. Long before I became commander, the funding had already been cut off.”
The dilapidated condition of the buildings and the ivy climbing over the stone walls only supported Airen’s explanation. While Seherbian was briefly distracted by the trumpet vines hanging in clusters, Airen walked ahead and continued speaking.
“Of course, that also means we’re freer in some ways! We’ve set aside space in the camp for people who have nowhere else to go, and this fortress serves as the knight order’s living quarters.”
“Is this the dormitory?”
“Haha! That’s right. From today on, priest, you’ll be staying here too.”
After leading him up a winding old stone staircase to the third floor, Airen finally showed him a room at the very end of the hall.
“If there’s anything you don’t know or anything that’s inconvenient, ask the room next door and they’ll kindly help you out. We’ll handle the formal paperwork for your induction tomorrow, so rest well for today.”
The room given to Seherbian was a single.
It was a narrow room, barely large enough to fit a bed, a wardrobe, and a table, leaving it feeling rather cramped, but the fact that he had no roommate was already a considerable courtesy.
The building itself was old, yet the neatly pressed blanket without a single wrinkle and the vase holding a freshly bloomed rose showed that it was well cared for.
Airen withdrew first so the newly recruited member could rest comfortably. Just before leaving, he flashed a grin and gave a casual two-finger salute.
“Take care of him, Priest Seerbi.”
“Yes.”
Clack!
With that cheerful farewell, the door closed.
Left alone, Seherbian looked around the room again.
It really is modest.
To someone who had lived only in the vast expanse of the Dragon God Temple, it was an unbearably small and humble room.
But it’s not bad.
The old windowsill still bore traces of someone’s presence.
A lone rose blooming atop the round little table beside it.
Sunlight dripping over the smooth vase like beads of water felt warm and gentle.
Creak.
He opened the wardrobe, the last thing to catch his eye after sweeping the room once around, and found two sets of white uniforms inside.
“These are Varzian knight uniforms. The original model was made about a thousand years ago, at the same time as Alferios was founded, and at the time it still incorporated the royal crest, but as time passed and the order was separated from the royal family, it underwent several changes and—”
“Just the conclusion.”
“The current Varzian emblem matches the symbol representing Winter Bell.”
Seherbian took one of the uniforms hanging in the wardrobe and unfolded it.
The Varzian knight uniform, white with gold trim, bore a pattern familiar even to his eyes. A dragon embracing a snowflake.
It was the same image carved into the Dragon Temple of Winter.
“Varzian is an order that venerates winter. The difference is that, unlike the dragon priests who receive divine power, it was established by humans themselves. But their purpose of following Winter Bell remains the same.”
“I see.”
The silver-tinged dragon quietly smiled as his fingertips traced the emblem.
“Why winter, of all things, I wonder. You people.”
A bitter sensation brushed faintly against one corner of his chest.
He found the humans who had chosen a path that would never be repaid foolish, and yet, at the same time, he was grateful for that stubborn foolishness.
“A thought-link request has arrived from Guardian Liliana. Would you like to accept it now?”
“Lili?”
Come to think of it, he remembered there had been something he’d left in Liliana’s care as well.
Not long ago, Liliana had reported that new visitors had arrived at the Dragon God Temple, and Seherbian had ordered her to find out their purpose.
When he accepted the connection, a familiar voice flowed suddenly into his mind.
“Master, Master! Ahhh, can you hear me?”
“Liliana, what is it?”
“Waaah!”
For some reason, his white crow sounded terribly upset.
Seherbian quietly waited until Liliana calmed down.
“Why?”
“Master, could I please hit that guy just once? Humans can be so rude! He’s got a truly rotten personality—ah, I mean, he’s awful!”
Liliana was so agitated that she nearly let a string of rough words slip out in her usual style, then hurriedly corrected herself. It made no difference; Seherbian had already heard enough to let out a small laugh.
“So who exactly is this rotten guy?”
“Ah—Master... I’m sorry.”
“Is it that visitor from last time who was loitering around in front of the temple?” Liliana glanced around nervously for a moment before blurting it out.
“Yes! It’s that Alferios prince bastard! He’s swaggering around the temple like it’s his own house just because he’s a prince, and he’s even ordering Kisha around like she’s his servant, and... I was so mad I could barely stand it!”
“Has he ever harmed Kisha?”
“No way! Kisha and the Hartney people haven’t been hurt at all.”
“And you, Liliana?”
“Ugh, in front of me he’s perfectly obedient. Whenever I step in to mediate, it seems like he backs off a little, but the moment I turn around he does it again. But he hasn’t actually broken any rules, so I can’t just kick him out either.”
As she reported the situation, the rough picture gradually became clear.
Kisha Hartney was only an apprentice, but she was still a dragon priest in name and reality.
The man in question was carefully walking the line, neither directly harming anyone nor causing such an outrage that it would cross into blatant misconduct, all the while irritating the temple administrator’s nerves.
It was a calculated move.
He’s trying to provoke me.
The sunset-colored eyes grew slightly colder.
There had been people like that before—cunning sorts who brazenly laid traps in places he treasured in order to lure Winter Bell out.