The Faraway Paladin Vol.2 Ch. 4

The Faraway Paladin, volume 2: The Archer of Beast Woods.

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Chapter 4.

Whitesails was a wealthy city. The people walking through the streets were wearing clothes dyed in all kinds of colors, and I could see certain tendencies in their hairstyles and accessories.

In short—get this—trends existed here! They had the time and money to think about fashion! Just that fact alone was shocking to me.

In fact, my first shock had come before that, when I entered the city. There was no kind of check required, and no toll to pay to pass through the city gate. I’d subconsciously been assuming that there would be that kind of thing based on what I knew about medieval cities, and I’d been prepared to be kept waiting, but they just let us right in.

“That’s one of His Excellency Ethel’s policies. He’s the one governing this city,” Tonio explained to me.

A huge volume of goods was being sent into this city via the sea route to the north, and spreading to the rest of Southmark via the land routes and waterways as if they were blood vessels. Because there was such an overwhelming amount passing through, stopping it all at the city gate would be a recipe for chaos, and in fact would create a hotbed of smuggling.

So His Excellency Ethel brought in the money needed to run the city by imposing fees for the ships to dock at the wharves, rental fees for space at the market, taxes upon the companies setting up shop within the city, and avoided interfering with the movements of people, goods, and money as much as possible. That was the direction he’d taken, at least for Whitesails, Tonio told me.

I hmm’ed, somewhat impressed. I wasn’t that well versed in economics, but I got the impression that this was quite a progressive, open-minded, and liberal policy.

The way people speak about Duke Ethelbald seems well deserved, I thought as I walked around the city. “Hm? What are those?”

Some kind of pillar-like objects were lined up along the road. Each had something like an… umbrella at the top…?

“Uh, those are streetlights.”

“Streetlights?!”

What?!

“You didn’t know what those were? Oh my God, Will, get with the times! They have the Word of Light engraved on them. Apprentices at the Academy of Sages come around in the evening and light them up. The apprentices get to practice binding mana to Signs, and the city people get to have light during the night as well, so that’s pretty useful.”

“Exactly. It is good training for apprentice sorcerers, and an avenue to earning a little bit of pocket money as well. Similarly,” Tonio said, pointing at a large building ahead of us, “that is another large source of income for sorcerers-in-training. It makes frequent use of the Words of Heat and Purification, after all.”

“Is that—”

“Hehe…” Bee gave me another mischievous laugh. “I bet even you know what that one is,” she said, spinning around on the spot just to be funny. “You guessed it, it’s the balnea!”

Balnea…?

“Hm? Something up, Will?”

“Is something the matter?”

Wait, I knew that word! Wasn’t that a public bathhouse?! I could take a bath there?!

“Let’s go!” I announced without a second thought. The other three looked surprised.

◆

To cut a long story short, my first bath in some time was a wonderful experience.

After all, considering the time period, I’d honestly been considering the possibility that the water would be dirty, unhygienic, and carry all kinds of diseases, but the Word of Purification was doing its job, and the water was crystal clear. The problem of needing an immense amount of fuel to maintain the temperature had been solved by the Word of Heat. Wonderful. I’m repeating myself, but it was wonderful.

It wasn’t like the Japanese-style bathhouses I was familiar with—instead, there was a sauna-like hot bath and a cold-water pool—but even so, it was amazing. The travel fatigue that had accumulated in all the muscles throughout my body melted away in the heat and disappeared as I relaxed. It was a moment of bliss.

After exiting the public bath, I felt like a whole layer had slipped clean off my body like the shell off a boiled egg. My body felt toasty warm, and the breeze felt good against it. Even while on the road, I’d been keeping clean with the Word of Purification, but a proper bath was something else.

The three of us men killed time in the open area outside the bathhouse, and after a little while…

“LA LA LA…♪” Bee came out holding the things she’d left with the bathhouse owners. She was singing a tune to herself and was clearly in a very good mood. “It’s really nice to have a bath every once in a while,” she said.

“Absolutely.”

“Won’t deny it, but I don’t like packed places like that very much.” Menel had attracted an awful lot of attention because of his beauty and the fact that it was rare to see a half-elf in the first place. Normally he could get around this by wearing a hood or something, but there was just no way for him to conceal himself like that at a bathhouse.

At this very moment, he had his hood firmly down over his eyes with a sour look on his face, so we decided to hurry up and change locations. “Lessee,” Bee said, “how about we get something to eat at a tavern, and then…”

“What next?”

“I suggest we head to a temple,” said Tonio. “Will is a priest, so I imagine he will want to pay them a visit.”

“Oh!” I said. I’d had my attention pulled in so many different directions that I’d almost forgotten. I had to make contact with an established temple. I was technically a proper priest bestowed with a god’s protection, so I was hoping they’d make time for me, but I had my doubts.

The four of us walked together to a tavern and had something to eat. I was very surprised when I saw their cooking used rice. It seemed to be what I had once known as Indica rice, probably grown in a dry field. They first stir-fried vegetables with oil and—fittingly for a port—a selection of seafood, including shrimp, shellfish, and whitefish in a flat-bottomed, shallow pan, then added the rice and water and cooked it all together.

The rice had absorbed the flavors of the fish well, and the dish was salted to perfection. I could have eaten this stuff all day. The diluted wine it was served with tasted good, too.

This was civilization. That was the only thing I could come up with to describe it. This was the taste of civilization.

Tonio and Bee were debating the meal.

“This tastes quite good, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hmm.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced. “I could have done with it not being boiled down so much.”

For these two, a traveling hawker and a troubadour, this city was a base of operations. They were probably relatively used to it.

As for Menel and me, conversation was just not what we cared about right then, so we skipped that entirely in favor of gorging ourselves on what was in front of us. And when we were done, we both ordered seconds.

Civilization really was such a wonderful, marvellous thing!

◆

And so we reached the temple in Whitesails. It was a majestic building made of smooth white stone, with big, wide columns, column-lined walkways, statues of the gods, and a front garden full of carefully pruned plants and trees. It all looked brand new, but still it had a kind of artistic character. Menel commented under his breath that they must have spent a hell of a lot on this place.

I asked Menel, Tonio, and Bee to wait in the front garden for the time being, and I walked into the temple proper. Once inside, I thought I’d find a priest and ask to be shown to someone high ranking.

However, the first reaction that came from the young male deacon who stood before me wearing loose white robes was an uninformative ‘mmm.’ It sounded like I was giving him problems.

“You say you’ve been blessed with the protection of Gracefeel, god of the flame?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s right.”

The young deacon mmm’ed again.

“That is a deity not often seen… By our rules, we like to make use of the prayer of Detect Faith in this instance…”

“That’s perfectly fine.”

Just imagine if a priest of an evil god, not caring about the consequences of his actions, nonchalantly walked in and said, “I would like to greet the high-ranking priests.” Not all priests were trained in combat as I was, so I could see the need for a security step to check that someone suspicious stopping by—like me, the priest of a minor god—wasn’t working for an evil god and trying to conceal their identity.

“Yes,” he said, “but most unfortunately, I’m afraid that everyone sufficiently blessed to determine the faith of others is out at the moment…”

“Out?” In a large temple like this? I was surprised that was even possible.

“Yes. Attacks from beasts big and small have been on a significant rise everywhere recently. Everyone from the vice-bishop downwards is being kept very busy.”

From the vice-bishop downwards… Did he say vice-bishop?

“What are you doing that requires taking up the walkway?” someone said from behind me in a grave voice that seemed to echo. I turned around to see an incredibly fat middle-aged man, dressed in loosely fitting priest’s robes embroidered with gold and silver thread. They did nothing to hide his noticeable potbelly, nor did his big, puffy cheeks compensate for the sternness in his expression. He was wearing several gold and silver rings on his sausage-like fingers.

“B-Bishop Bagley!” The deacon twitched in surprise and visibly straightened his posture.

“I asked you what you were doing,” Bishop Bagley repeated. He looked irritated.

The deacon seemed very uneasy and didn’t look like he was going to be able to give a proper answer. Although it was slightly bad form, I decided to interject.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is William G. Maryblood. I was blessed with the protection of the god of the flame, Gracefeel, and have come to this Whitesails temple to introduce myself.” I put my right hand over the left side of my chest, brought my left leg back a little, and bowed. Mary had taught me this.

“Hmm. Bart Bagley. I am in charge of this temple.” Bishop Bagley bowed to me roughly in return, and then glowered at me. “Gracefeel… God of the flame. Practically a lost god. The possibility remains, of course, that what we have here is a suspicious character misusing Gracefeel’s name to carry out some nefarious plot…”

“That is a reasonable suspicion. Would you like me to perform a blessing as proof?”

Bishop Bagley snorted. “Novices are quick to turn to divine protection when in trouble. The protection received from a god is not to be brandished lightly and certainly not to be vaunted.”

Wow. I hadn’t expected that response, but now that I thought about it, he made a good point. Gus had said the same thing about magic. Blessings didn’t carry much risk, so I’d been using them more casually, but he was definitely right.

“You’re absolutely right. Thank you very much for making me aware of my naïveté.”

The bishop snorted again. “What do you understand to be the teachings of the god of the flame?”

“Light is the existence of dark. Words are the existence of silence. And living is the existence of death.”

The bishop breathed out through his nose once more. “You,” he said to the deacon. “Add him to the register and show him around the temple.”

“Huh? But… We still have the prayers of Detect Faith and Detect Lie to—”

“Idiot!” It was a thunderclap. “Did all of that simply miss your ears, you cretin?!” His voice echoed throughout the temple, lingering in the air like static in a thunderstorm. Other people were looking at us now.

“I have to put in an appearance at the Weavers’ Guild banquet—spend your time here as you please, do not cause any problems, and donate a little,” Bishop Bagley told me without pausing for breath, then clomped away to somewhere else in the temple. The deacon still had his head ducked into his shoulders.

Once the bishop had disappeared completely, the deacon finally started talking to me, in a voice that showed he was still a little shaken. “What are the odds we’d run into Bishop Bagley?” he said. “He gave us a hard time, didn’t he? I was impressed by how well you handled it.”

Then he talked about how the bishop was now a hedonist who spent a large amount of his time at banquets, never performed a single blessing, was quick to anger, and constantly complained; on the other hand, the vice-bishop was noble and wonderful and had only good things to say about him.

Not wanting to take sides, I gave some vague hums in response as we completed my registration. Then, after meeting back up with Menel, Bee, and Tonio, I had the deacon show us all around the temple and assign us a guest room. It was quite plain, but we’d at least been given more than just a bale of hay or something to sleep on; there were actually beds with sheets.

“Say,” I said, “about the bishop here, um…”

“Mmm, I don’t hear much good about him, I guess?” Bee said. “Like how he’s kinda snooty. And materialistic.”

“He also appears to have behind-the-scenes influence in the city’s commerce and industrial guilds,” added Tonio.

Huh. That was the reputation he had? As I tried to put this information together with my own impression of him, I realized I was finding it hard to concentrate. What was all that noise going on outside? It sounded like incessant clanging, maybe a bell.

Bee started, and I looked at her in confusion.

“That’s… not the bell for the hour…” she said. “They’re hammering it… Is there a fire or something?!”

“That sounds like the emergency bell, yes,” Tonio said.

Unrest started to spread around the temple. We rushed to our equipment and other stuff we’d stashed in the corner of the room. We heard the sound of footsteps rushing down the hallway, and then screaming.

“Wyvern! Wyvern! Everyone, RUUUUN!!”

Beyond the walls of the room and above the roof, a low rush of wind and a vast shadow passed overhead. The next instant, the force of an impact echoed throughout the temple.

◆

“Hnnnggggggg!”

“Ow, oww, owwww!”

“Someone! Someone help! There are people being crushed under here!”

“What’s happening?!”

“Don’t shove, don’t shove!”

“My child, has anyone seen my child?!”

“Oh God…!”

The inside of the temple was in a state of panic. Still putting on my armor, I went out into the courtyard surrounded by walkways. Using the temple’s architectural decorations and pillars for traction, I jumped up the side of the building and, after only a few leaps, I made it to the roof.

The temple was comprised of numerous buildings, like the living quarters, assembly halls, and so on, and as I looked around I noticed that the roof of the main hall had fallen in.

I looked down inside. It was chaos down there; I guessed there were probably people under all that rubble. It was a disaster that the high-ranking priests were out right now; it looked like it was going to take some time to bring this situation under control. I furrowed my brow unconsciously.

But I couldn’t go down there to help them.

I turned my eyes away, and saw the gray silhouette circling the sky over Whitesails. It had a long tail and enormous wings made of stretched sheets of skin. Running down the spine of its back was a series of bladelike spikes, and it had a neck so thick it looked like you could only just barely get your arms around it. I could see occasional glimpses of fire from its mouth.

The circling, twisting movements of its slender silhouette were full of power and energy, and I was certain that the sight would send a shiver up the spine of anyone who witnessed it.

It was a wyvern.

It flew at one of the city’s steeples and grabbed hold of it with its legs. The force of the landing smashed the structure apart. As the stone walls of the steeple crumbled, the wyvern kicked off again, launching back into flight and circling the sky over the city once more.

Figures on the ground that seemed to be soldiers were firing occasional crossbow shots at it, but it didn’t seem to care. It was moving around too much. Those few soldiers holding crossbows could chase after the wyvern all they liked; they wouldn’t even be able to keep it within range. And if they did manage to get close enough, they would never land a single shot on a wyvern flying at such speeds; their quarrels would fly straight past.

Flames erupted from the wyvern’s mouth—it was breathing fire. From the area licked by those flames came screams and cries so loud I could hear them from the temple. Houses caught fire. People ran, pushing and shoving each other in the scramble to escape. And the wyvern cried out in excitement and dived straight in.

Roof tiles, blown off by the wind pressure, fell randomly and smashed on the streets. Some houses had collapsed. The panic was escalating. Several people fell over. I was sure there were others being trampled. I could hear buildings collapsing. The wyvern destroyed another one.

I had no idea what was going on. Why on earth was the wyvern doing this? But it didn’t change reality: the city was being destroyed before my eyes. Civilization—what those three had fought to protect—a place where people still lived like people should—was being destroyed.

The blood rushed to my head.

“Verba volant…” This was a slightly long incantation—not something I normally used. In parallel with my verbal incantation, I added another Word with a single movement of my finger to extend the range, and then—

“Tonitrus!!”

At that moment, there was an ear-splitting sound, like the sound of a broken bell being struck as hard as possible, or maybe the sound of a cannon. I smelled the air burning as a single bolt of lightning flew from where I stood on the temple roof directly towards the wyvern flying so proudly over the city.

But it didn’t connect! The distance was too great. Not only that, but a straight-line attack was far too inaccurate against the wyvern when it had total freedom to move around three-dimensional space. The range of ancient magic was not that great to begin with; that probably wasn’t helping, either. Words being Words, they attenuated with distance, having a smaller effect on further targets.

I prepared for a second shot. Of the Words I could use with a reasonable amount of stability, the Word of Lightning boasted the longest range. I could fire it as many times as necessary until I hit. That was the thought going through my head, and it came from a place of desperation, and anger, and zero composure—

“What the hell are you doing, you fig idiot?!” The back of my head suddenly stung. I turned around, and Menel was behind me. He must have followed me up onto the roof. “Don’t cast magic over and over again out of anger! You’re gonna blow yourself apart!” He looked angry. “And high-level magic like that?! Are you nuts?!”

“But—”

“But nothing!” Menel grabbed my collar. “You’re up against a wyvern! Do it efficiently is what I’m saying! For a guy with a brilliant brain, you’re as thick as pig shit, you know that?! You were given that brain, fecking use it first!”

Pierced by his jade eyes, I suddenly came to my senses.

— Just learn to use small amounts of magic, sensibly and precisely.

Gus’s teachings revived inside my mind. I could feel my head clearing. Gus wouldn’t lose his head in a situation like this. Be efficient. Be precise. Only use it when needed, and only as much as needed.

“Got it.”

“Good.”

I started thinking. With what I had available to me, how could I do something about that wyvern? Countless thoughts flashed through the circuitry of my mind like sparks, each being considered for a moment before fading away. “Okay.” I nodded. “Menel, I need your help and the help of your elementals.”

“Gotcha.” Menel nodded, too.

“And Bee, Tonio!” I called in the direction of the courtyard, where I could see those two standing. Thanks to that Word of Lightning, a lot of people’s attention was currently focused on us on the roof. “Get everybody around to help get people out of the temple’s front garden!” I waved my arm dramatically and shouted. “That’s where we’re gonna bring down the wyvern!”

◆

“Here goes. ‘Sylphs, Sylphs, maidens of wind. Your steps are the wind’s steps, your songs are the wind’s songs.’”

His voice rang out clearly as he recited the words. The elementals gathered and danced.

“‘Sing in chorus, sing in rounds, cheer and shout applause. Thine harmonic tones spread the primordial Words in the ten directions—”

Ever since Menel started casting his spell, I’d started to see glimpses of tiny white maidens all over my vision, blurred by the flow of the wind and flickering from a while ago.

Sylphs—wind elementals. Once I was sure of it, I started incanting Words.

“Verba volant…”

It was the same invocation as before, the Word of Lightning, but I expanded upon it with the Words that Gus had used to destroy the splinter of the god of undeath.

“…conciliat, sequitur…”

I put my fingers to work as well, drawing several complex Words in the air. Like a crest or a magic circle, the intricate glyphs spread through the air. And finally, I spread my arms solemnly and shouted—

“Tonitrus… Araneum!!”

The Words echoed instantly. The gathered sylphs sang them out in rounds, their harmony ever-increasing, and lightning forked again and again, darting and spreading through the air. The web of bolts expanded outwards, and though it weakened as it traveled, still it descended and fell like a net upon the wyvern flying far overhead.

The monster cried out in pain. It was convulsing, its flight posture broken. But it had only been struck by a single fork of many, weakened over a great distance; it wasn’t enough to bring it down. It quickly recovered its balance.

To the wyvern, the lightning strike had probably been a matter of “that really hurt,” and that was all—but that was more than enough. It looked in our direction. It looked at us, who had caused it pain—and then it circled around and began to fly towards us. The wyvern had recognized us as enemies.

These kinds of monsters were generally aggressive. Gus had told me that in situations where normal wild creatures would flee, monsters like wyverns would instead opt for aggressive behavior.

“Here it comes.”

There was only one issue, one question left, and that was how who I was now measured up to the way those three had once been.

As the wyvern drew closer, I rapidly placed spells and benedictions on myself and Menel to enhance our physical abilities. Menel also called to some elementals, and strengthened us both in the same way. With every passing moment, the almost birdlike figure grew larger and larger as it approached.

Gracefeel, I thought, I will now fight for my oath: to drive away evil and bring salvation to those in sorrow. Please, bless me with your protection!

“On the flame of Gracefeel!” I held my spear, Pale Moon, in both hands and offered a prayer. A huge wall of light rose around the temple. It was the blessing Sanctuary.

There was some buzz from the people watching, but I ignored them for now. I didn’t have the time to worry about it.

The wyvern headed straight towards us and collided with the luminous wall. There was a violent sound.

I prayed. I prayed.

Be unbreakable as adamantine. Be eternal. Be everlasting. Reject all that is evil!

But I heard a sharp intake of breath followed by the resonating sound of cracking, and then the stunned, hollow voices of Menel and others.

“What—”

Even I, for a moment, forgot all about praying, and my eyes opened wide. What was I seeing?! The wyvern was fighting against the glowing wall, and the veins across its whole body were turning black, noxious air pouring from each and every one. The black miasma was encroaching on the sacred walls, breaking them down, and then—

With the spur on its foot, the wyvern kicked the wall of light. There was a sound like glass shattering, and as the wyvern descended, now black with miasma, I saw its emotionless, reptilian eyes capture me in their sights.

By reflex, I dropped into a roll, and the thick claws on its legs just barely missed me. The wind pressure blasted roof tiles everywhere. I lost my balance and almost fell straight off the roof, barely managing to stay on the edge.

“‘Sylphs! Elegant maidens of the wind, princesses who dance in the gale!’” It was Menel’s voice. He had skillfully kept his balance and still had both feet firmly on the roof.

The wyvern blew past and then spun around, leaving a trail of miasma behind as it flew, and once again closed in on the roof where Menel stood—

“‘Those foolish enough fancy themselves better dancers—’” It was another incantation. “‘Show them the bitter taste of earth!’”

At that moment, there was a rush of air, a powerful downburst. No matter how strange the wyvern’s appearance and behavior, there was nothing it could physically do about an intense air current hitting its wings. Its flight posture broke down, and—

“Will!!”

“Ligatur, nodus, obligatio!” I cast the Word of Knotting over and over. The wyvern’s wings stiffened.

It plummeted through the air, struggling all the way down, and impacted the ground. There was a deep boom, and the earth shook. I looked down and saw that the wyvern had fallen on the fountain in the front garden.

I leaped down from the roof, landed safely, and sprang upon the wyvern.

◆

Inside my head, I could feel chains straining, fissures forming in a ring of steel. The wyvern was fighting against the Word of Knotting. Given enough time, it would break free of it and take to the sky again. I had no intention of allowing it to do so.

The fountain was broken, and water was spouting out over the temple’s front garden.

Wielding my spear, I sprinted towards the wyvern planted there. My aim was simple: a spear charge directly into its heart or windpipe. Just like Blood, who had finished off a wyvern in a single swipe of his sword, I was going to finish this with a single strike through its weak spot.

The wyvern sensed my approach and turned its head.

“Acceleratio!” I shot forward like a bullet. I aimed for the wyvern’s heart, Pale Moon glinting in my hands. The landscape soared past with furious momentum, the wyvern’s body quickly grew enormous in my vision—and the next moment, there was a furious howl, and the wyvern charged at me as well.

We crossed—and then—impact. I pushed my spear into its miasma-spewing chest, and with a gasp of panic, I immediately let go before my wrist and elbow were crushed by the monster’s momentum, and I rolled to the side. The spear had stuck. There was no doubt.

A cheer rose around me.

However—

“No way…” I heard Bee’s voice from somewhere.

I turned, a terrible feeling building inside me. The wyvern was slowly turning its head to me as well. Had I been hindered by its rubbery skin? Its tough muscles? Or had I simply missed my target? The fact was—I hadn’t managed to impale its heart.

More miasma poured out. The wyvern looked at me, red flames burning inside its mouth.

“Run! It’s going to breathe!”

There were still people behind me who hadn’t gotten away yet. I couldn’t let it breathe fire. But I had no time, I had no plan. I had to act. Act! But how?!

And then—in my heart—Blood laughed. He laughed loud. And he said:

Wreck him.

“Acceleratio!” With the Word, I charged right up to the wyvern, too close for it to release its breath. To keep from hurting itself, the monster let its flames pour out the sides of its mouth, snapping its jaws at me instead. I narrowly dodged, and threw both my arms around its enormous neck.

Can’t think of a good solution? Nature of your enemy is unknown? In my mind, Blood raised a fist and yelled at the top of his voice. Then MUSCLE! Violence! Wreck him!!

The miasma spouting out of the wyvern started to slowly attack my arms, but the burns I had there—my stigmata—flared white and held it back.

I grunted as I strained my muscles. The wyvern resisted. I held its neck tight, choking off its airway and blood flow. I spread my legs wide apart and dropped my hips, making sure I had good footing. With all my strength, I twisted my body to hold on tight as the wyvern resisted.

The wyvern’s entire bulk lifted into the air.

I brought it crashing back down onto the fountain, long since broken and spraying water in all directions. The earth shook again, but I kept my arms firmly clutched around its neck. I wasn’t going to let go.

“A… A headlock throw…?!” someone asked.

Yes, a headlock throw, I thought. I’m grabbing it by its head and throwing it, of course it’s a headlock throw. Isn’t it obvious?

I threw myself on top of the downed wyvern, continuing to throttle it as hard as I could. Behind me, the monster’s body struggled wildly, kicking and convulsing. It was desperately trying to stop me from strangling it. I roared and put all my strength into my muscles. This was now a contest of physical strength against a wyvern, with all the power I had. I held it from resisting and getting up; in fact, I pressed the wyvern down, shoving it hard into the ground.

You’re not getting away, pal. I won’t let you run. I won’t let you breathe any more fire from that throat.

I won’t let you use those wings to fly anymore. I won’t let you use those fangs or those claws to hurt anyone anymore!

As the crowd watched, hardly breathing, there was a snap as finally, the wyvern’s neck made a sound it was never meant to make.

◆

The wyvern’s neck went limp in my arms. To be extra cautious and make absolutely certain it was dead, I continued to strangle it for a little while longer, and then I noticed that silence had fallen all around me.

The people who had been in the temple to begin with, the people who had evacuated here from elsewhere in the city—so many people were looking at me. The emotions in their eyes were complex, and I suddenly realized I was in trouble.

I had broken the neck of what must have been a two-ton wyvern (I seemed to remember that six-meter-long saltwater crocodiles weighed about a ton), and I’d done it in front of them. I had been only moments away from the wyvern’s fire breath burning me and everyone else nearby to a crisp, so in order to win without anyone getting killed, I’d had no choice but to choke the monster to death. That said, even I recognized that what I’d done had been completely crazy. If they decided I was someone to be feared—

“Spectacular! Marvellous!” The sound of applause rang out. Confused, I turned and… there was Tonio. “Thank the gods that they sent a hero like you to this place!”

Clapping in an exaggerated fashion, Tonio stepped towards me like he didn’t know who I was. Then, he flashed me a little smile and a mischievous wink that the people couldn’t see from where they stood. I let go of the wyvern’s neck and got to my feet. Tonio held both my hands together and shook them while telling me how grateful he was.

It was only then that I finally realized what he was trying to do.

“No problem,” I said with a smile, and shook his hands up and down.

Bee must have guessed his intention as well. Strumming her instrument, she shouted, “The Wyvern Killer! Today, a new hero has been born!” Her voice carried well. “Let’s have a round of applause for our hero!”

She led, and a few odd claps followed her cue—then the clapping got louder. It was joined by cheering, and soon enough I was being mobbed by people. They touched my arms and asked to shake my hand, saying “Thank you” over and over.

I got the feeling that I’d just survived a pretty dangerous situation. Menel and I probably wouldn’t have been able to figure a way out of it on our own. Only the savvy Tonio and Bee, with all their experience in navigating society, could have defused that so well. I felt very grateful.

After the accolades had died down, I raised my voice and called out to the crowd. “There must be people still buried under the rubble, and others with injuries! Let’s all do our part to help and rescue everyone!”

A cheer of assent rose from the crowd. As one, they headed to the hall and worked together to remove the rubble and care for and treat the injured. A strange sense of solidarity had formed among all these disparate people.

While everyone was busy, I found a moment to quietly thank Bee and Tonio.

“Oh, not at all,” Tonio replied. “I look at it as an investment.”

“Hehe.” Bee laughed teasingly. “I’m going to make a song about this later, okay?”

While helping lever away some boulders, I also exchanged a few words with Menel.

“Seriously, is there anything you can’t do, you freak of nature?” he said.

“Surprised?” I asked.

“I’ve gotten used to you being ridiculous.”

“Well, for me, it was a painful reminder of how far I still have to go.”

“The hell?”

That wyvern had black veins covering its whole body and spewed eerie, noxious gas. I didn’t know what had happened to it. Perhaps it had mutated somehow, or been cursed after activating a trap in some ruin, or someone had subjected it to some evil procedure. But in any case, I couldn’t help speculating that its abnormal appearance and the reason it had attacked might have been related.

Of course, I couldn’t deny the possibility that it was completely unrelated, and the wyvern’s actions had been purely instinctual in some way. However, as violent as wyverns were said to be, I couldn’t see attacking a human city of this size as anything but suicidal. The wyvern had been overpowering to begin with, but that was simply because taking the city by surprise had given it an advantage. It hadn’t gotten to that point, but once the city had started to plan instead of panic, and sent out legions of proper soldiers, sorcerers, and priests, the wyvern would have been done for.

So it had been an abnormal, and most likely stronger wyvern than usual, but even so, it had been far too messy a battle. If Menel hadn’t been there, I could well have died. Furthermore, if not for Tonio and Bee, I couldn’t deny that I might have suffered social death.

A roundtable of criticism was in progress in my head, scrutinizing all the ways I’d been naïve, all the mistakes I’d made, and all the ways I didn’t measure up.

“Will. Brother.” Menel called to me. I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at him. “I don’t know how high a bar you’re setting for yourself, but come on. You just brought down a monster. It’s good to be self-critical, but give yourself some credit. I’m trying to be happy for you here.”

I hadn’t thought about it that way. And although there were a lot of things I wish I’d done differently, I was now a “Wyvern Killer,” just as those three had once been.

“Yeah…” He was right. I was happy about that. “Yeah… Yeah. Thanks, Menel! I couldn’t have done it without you!”

“Ya. Good job. And you were the one who did most of it, dummy!” He gave me a fist bump. That simple gesture really made me feel like we’d connected with one another in a lot of ways.

How many hours did we work after that?

We had left the corpse of the wyvern to the soldiers who came running to the scene afterwards. My greater concern was whether we’d managed to get all the injured people out of the rubble. I was just at the point of thinking we might have gotten everyone we could find, when I heard a lot of commotion around the temple’s front gate.

Several priests came running up to us. “Wyvern Killer! Is the Wyvern Killer here?!”

“Oh! That’s me, what is it?!” I waved my hand to them.

They looked like they were in a real hurry. They told me between short breaths that they would take care of the rest of the work and it was urgent that I followed them.

“H-His Excellency…”

“His Excellency, brother to the King, wishes to speak with you!”

I blinked.

◆

The room was full of vibrant colors. Woven fabric in various hues adorned the walls, and the decor could be summed up in a single word: grandeur. It suggested power without being in poor taste. The room had probably been specifically designed with that intention.

Menel and I had been invited to the mansion that belonged to the lord of Whitesails, and we had just now been shown into the room where he received guests.

“Welcome to my mansion, hero.” Standing on the other side of a big ebony desk, Duke Ethelbald Rex Fertile welcomed us with arms spread wide. Brother to the King of the Fertile Kingdom, he was the feudal lord of Whitesails and the ruler of Southmark.

He has piercing eyes, I thought. They were dark gray, and seemed to penetrate to my very soul. They reminded me of the keen eyes of a bird of prey.

His hair was thin, gray, and cut short, his gaze was stern, and he looked like he had done a good amount of physical training. He was wearing high-quality, tailor-made clothes, a sword on his hip. The scabbard wasn’t highly ornamented, and looked quick to unsheath, which told me that the weapon wasn’t just for decoration.

Behind him stood two serious-looking guards in full armor.

“It is an honor more than I deserve to be in the presence of your glory. My name is William G. Maryblood, here at Your Excellency’s request.” I placed my right hand on the left side of my chest, brought my left leg back slightly, and bowed.

“Oh?” the Duke of Southmark said quietly. Had I messed something up? “I am surprised you are familiar with such old ceremony. Am I correct in assuming you are a man of blue blood?” he asked, then responded to me with an identical gesture.

It seemed as though I had done okay, but he’d gotten slightly the wrong impression. “Not quite, um… I would appreciate it if Your Excellency would avoid questions about my birth.”

Well, it couldn’t be helped. It was my fault for not explaining.

“Ha ha ha. So you have some circumstances. Very well, then. Please, sit.”

He offered me a chair and sat down in his own. I bowed slightly and sat.

I quickly realized without looking that Menel hadn’t taken a chair himself, but had remained standing behind me and a little to my right. That took me by surprise. Why was he acting as if he was my servant?

Wait… Did he just leave me to handle this entire conversation with the big cheese?!

I turned my head slightly and sent him a death glare. I saw the corner of his mouth curling upwards. Ass, I thought, and returned my eyes to the duke. Looking around too much in front of the host who invited me would be rude.

“I am surprised to see that only a representative is here…” he said. “My orders were to bring all of you.”

“Huh?” I said, shocked. Was I supposed to have brought Bee and Tonio with me? Bee had actually been interested in seeing the inside of a feudal lord’s mansion, but she hadn’t played any part in the battle against the wyvern, so we’d asked her and Tonio to wait at the temple.

“William, you were traveling in a party of four or perhaps five, I’m assuming.”

“Ah, yes. There’s four of us.” How did he know that?

“A sorcerer, a priest, an elementalist, and a warrior, then. Yes, that’s quite a nice balance.”

“Huh?”

“Hmm?”

Okay, uh… “We’re a priest, a hunter, a merchant, and a poet…”

“Hmm…?”

Was one of us… misunderstanding something?

“One who cast lightning at the wyvern, one who erected a wall of light around the temple, one who manipulated the wind, and lastly, the man I’ve heard so much about, the warrior who engaged a wyvern bare-handed and broke its neck. Four. Yes?”

“O-Oh.” Now I understood. “Your Excellency, I am terribly sorry for the confusion, but if that is what you mean, I am certain that there has been no mistake in simply the two of us coming here.”

“Hm? You mean—”

I nodded. “My friend Meneldor called to the elementals, dispersed the Words, and made the wyvern plummet to earth by manipulating the wind.”

“Then he is the elementalist. I see. What about the others?”

“They were me.”

“Sorry, could you explain in detail what exactly you did?”

“First, I attempted an independent lightning strike against the wyvern. This failed. With the help of Meneldor’s powers, I attempted a second strike. This succeeded in provoking the wyvern and luring it to us. After that, I attempted to use the Sanctuary prayer to prevent it from swooping in and managed to kill its momentum, but unfortunately, after the wyvern emitted a mysterious corrupting gas, I ultimately allowed it to break through…”

Describing my own failures out loud was making me feel a little pathetic. Mary would have been able to stave off the attack for sure.

“Things were looking precarious for a moment, but with Meneldor’s elementals helping by providing a burst of downwards air, I forced the wyvern down into the front garden with the Word of Knotting. A crowd was still assembled in the area, so I aimed to finish the wyvern off not with highly destructive magic, but by stabbing my spear into its heart. However, I failed at this.”

Blood would have given me a strange look for making a mistake like that. I seriously needed to go back and train again from the ground up.

“The wyvern was on the verge of breathing fire and causing casualties in the crowd, so I had no choice but to take the offensive once more, this time with my bare hands. It tried to bite me. I dodged. I grabbed its neck and threw it against the ground, held it down, and throttled it to prevent it from breathing fire. I had magically enhanced my strength beforehand, so I remained in that position and let my muscles do the rest, the battle concluding with me breaking the wyvern’s neck.”

What a mucky fight. After I finished outlining the battle—a battle which, for me, left a lot of regrets—the duke’s mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “So you killed a wyvern and aren’t even proud. It pleases me to see that truly brave warriors exist not just in legend.” And he chuckled.

◆

“If Your Excellency doesn’t mind me saying, are you sure you can afford to spend time talking to me like this?” I asked. “Don’t you need to be helping the city handle the damage done by the wyvern?” With many civil servants and people who seemed to be military officers busily moving around, things had looked pretty hectic outside the mansion.

“Of course. I have seen to a number of things already, and I have much more to do after you leave as well. Reports, instructions, visiting the sites personally and offering reassurance, hearing petitions…” The duke humorously counted them off on his fingers. “But there are matters of higher priority.” He looked at me. “For example… giving my thanks to the hero who solved the root problem.” He gave me a roguish smile.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to…”

“Do not humble yourself. I do not wish for my people to speak ill of me and call me a man who doesn’t know gratitude.” The duke sat up straight and faced me and Menel. “On behalf of Whitesails, I would like to express my gratitude to the both of you. Thank you for greatly limiting the damage that could have been caused by that sudden wyvern attack.” He even bowed slightly.

Even I realized that a person with this much power bowing their head was not a normal occurrence. Some people may think that it doesn’t cost a person anything to bow and is of little consequence, but when you become someone this powerful, bowing to others will cause you to lose your authority.

“Your words are wasted on me. I am honored.” I bowed back.

But… Oh gods. Thinking of what was about to unfold was giving me a serious knot in my stomach. But I couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“I would very much like it if you would accept a reward,” he said. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“I do.” This was probably going to cause me big problems, but I had to commit to it. Okay, I thought. Here goes nothing. “I came here today through Beast Woods, to the south. The villages of said region are currently being menaced by demons in command of ferocious beasts.”

“I see.”

“Firstly, I would like to confirm—does Your Excellency have the power to mobilize soldiers to hunt demons? Is that possible?”

A serious look came over his face. “Speaking purely in terms of capability, it would not be impossible. Not impossible, but certainly difficult. You saw that wyvern,” he said, massaging his temple in little circles. “We never foresaw a monster that great coming directly to Whitesails, but we have been experiencing similar monster incidents frequently within the areas of Southmark governed by the Fertile Kingdom.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “When you say similar incidents…”

“Yes, I mean that strange, toxic miasma. Those touched by it are corrupted by the poison and go berserk.” He explained that beasts with that stuff flowing through their body were rampant right now. “What about you, William? You had your arms around the neck of that wyvern as the gas flowed from it. Has it not affected you?”

“I don’t poison easily, Your Excellency.”

“I am glad to hear it. Soldiers often collapse after a fight with those beasts, you see.”

Thinking back on what had happened with the god of undeath, it looked like these kinds of poisons didn’t affect my body, which had been raised on holy bread. So that was what happened when an ordinary person came in contact with that miasma… And there were many monsters like that…? This was probably, no, definitely the demons’ doing.

“We are spread too thin as a result of the previous King’s expansion policies. We are unable to even provide adequate protection to all of the villages that are under our governance. I hope you can understand what I’m saying.”

I could, and what he had left unsaid, as well. Under such circumstances, he couldn’t spare troops for independent settlements on the frontier, which neither paid taxes to the Fertile Kingdom nor were under its aegis. If he did, he would face backlash from the villages that were a part of it. He couldn’t pull his forces from those paying their way and give them to those not paying a penny. In terms of capability, it was technically possible, but practically speaking, impossible without a doubt.

“In that case—” I’d found out what I needed to. Now for the real talk. “Could Your Excellency grant me permission to organize adventurers and hire mercenaries at private expense to hunt the demons?”

I’d been thinking about it for some time. There was no way I could go out on my own and hunt down the huge number of demons running rampant in Beast Woods. And if I couldn’t do it alone, I was going to have to spend money to hire people and increase my numbers.

But the moment I asked, I saw the Duke of Southmark’s temple twitch. He silently brought his hands up to his eyes and rubbed his temples again and then, slowly, he returned his gaze to me.

“William, do you understand the meaning of what you have just asked me?” He stared at me hard. The mood inside the room slowly began to change.

◆

“I do understand the magnitude of what I am asking for.”

“And still you request it?”

“Yes.”

The Duke stared at me for a long time. I felt like I’d just learned the true meaning of the phrase, “powerful eyes.” That stare alone would be more than enough to make a person of weak temperament quake in their boots and withdraw their opinions. But I had my oath to fulfill.

“I beg you to consider just how many villages will otherwise be put to the torch, how many people will end their lives amid hunger and suffering and violence.”

“But to save them all would be a feat so great that not even the gods could accomplish it.”

We stared at each other, neither backing down.

The duke was the first to look away. Then he shrugged. “What rotten luck,” he muttered. “This would have been far easier had you simply been a man of no repute.”

“I sympathize fully, Your Excellency. That said, had I not killed the wyvern, I may not have been granted an audience.”

The duke put his hands up to his eyes and rubbed his temples again. It was probably his tic. “Quite. However…” He fell silent.

The accomplished Wyvern Killer was already starting to act undesirably.

It was just as he had said: if I were just an ordinary man who couldn’t bear to see the border areas in such a state and wanted to gather a few people at private expense and do a little bit of demon hunting, that would have been fine. He would probably have been able to overlook that. The reality was that this world was full of evil races, and hiring adventurers because the lord couldn’t respond fast enough wasn’t uncommon at all, so that would have been within the limits of acceptability.

But I was none other than the hero known as the Wyvern Killer, who was furthermore being mistaken as having some noble background; and I was declaring my intent to assemble forces that could potentially serve as a private army, and operate in Beast Woods, an area to which the lord’s power didn’t currently extend.

What’s dangerous about that, you ask? Only that there are so many potential risks stacked on top of one another in that scenario that it’s impossible to list them all. For example, I could become the leader of a rebel movement. I might be acting in another country’s interest. I could overdo it and end up provoking the forest beasts and evil races instead.

So the prudent course of action was obvious.

“I must give consideration to having you killed.”

The duke suddenly looked a lot more intimidating.

“That’s frightful. How will you say I died?”

“I will leave you with your dignity, that at least I promise. How about this: you suddenly started coughing up blood, presumably poisoned from your battle with the wyvern. We tried to treat you, but alas.”

The solemn guards standing behind the King’s brother shifted slightly. The moment he gave them the order, I was sure those two would kick over the desk and lunge at me.

I could probably dispatch those two, but I thought I sensed soldiers concealed in hidden rooms on the left and right, who would probably try to hack me to pieces. I would also have to worry about projectiles. The duke himself looked quite skilled, too. And if he ordered them to, the guards would go on the defense while he retreated, so it would be difficult to take him hostage…

Just in case this developed into a battle, I found myself thinking about how it would play out, but the truth was that there was really no point thinking about it. Even if I could kill everyone in this mansion, it would be the end of me socially. It was never an option.

“Oh?” The duke’s eyes flickered towards Menel. “Oh my… How frightening.” He made a big show of shrugging his shoulders. Wondering if something had happened, I turned to look behind me, but only saw Menel standing there, expressionless.

“What?” he said.

“I thought… Never mind.”

Hm. What was that? I couldn’t keep looking at Menel, so I turned back to the duke.

I may have brought this on myself, but even so, things were not headed in a good direction. I had to get through this situation. My hands were getting clammy under the table. I had no confidence that this was going to work…

“Your Excellency.”

“What?”

“If the salt of the earth loses its flavor, with what will it be salted?”

◆

“Hmm?” The duke regarded my sudden question with suspicion.

I continued. “If all the world’s torch bearers remain under the light of day, on what will their torches shine?”

He said nothing. I looked into his keen eyes. I met his gaze. I didn’t look away, I didn’t flinch. I looked straight at him.

“I have been gifted with a portion of the light of Gracefeel, god of the flame.”

Look into his eyes, I kept telling myself.

“I believe that those who carry the torch of Gracefeel must take the first step into darkness, ahead of all others. They must shine a light on people suffering in the dark, and show the way to those that would follow them. I believe that to be my mission.”

Face what’s in front of you. Appeal to him with words from the heart. That was the only way, and the right way. Affectation and trickery were clearly going to be counterproductive against this man.

“So I beg you. Can you grant me some form of permission for my activities?” I got up from my chair, kneeled down, and lowered my head in a deep bow. I wasn’t being clever or wily. I was just being completely straight with him. It might have been naïve, but I thought that if you were going to make an unreasonable request of someone, you owed it to them to be honest.

The duke was silent.

“William,” he said, after a long pause. “In almost all cases, that road leads to despair. It will rarely lead to the result you desired, and even if it does, you will be paying a hefty price for it.”

Hearing those words, I slowly raised my head, and smiled at His Excellency. I know that, I thought. But all the same—

“The thing is, I have some business with despair,” I commented.

“Oh? What kind of business is that?”

“Well, I just don’t like the looks of it, so I was planning on kicking its ass until it gets the message,” I said, shrugging.

The duke looked a little stunned at my answer for a moment… and then he burst out laughing. “Hahahah! Kicking its ass, huh. I like that. Hah hah hah!”

It had gone over well. The duke was holding his sides and slapping the table. There were even tears in his eyes.

“Haha. Yes… That was a good reminder. You are, after all, a high priest, who even wields the prayer of Sanctuary. Not to mention the good friend you have!”

“Huh? Uhh…”

“Hm? You didn’t notice? The instant I mentioned killing you, that half elf behind you had the nerve to shoot me a murderous glare. Those were the eyes of a soldier ready to die for his cause. He was prepared to kill everyone here and go down fighting to protect you! Most impressive, most impressive…” The duke laughed.

I slowly turned back to look at Menel.

“Th-That’s bull! I was just… steeling myself, figured he’d kill me as well, that’s all… Dammit, quit grinning like an idiot!”

I didn’t realize I was, but it made Menel’s mood even worse.

Suddenly, from somewhere down the corridor, I heard a rush of stomping footsteps and a great deal of shouting.

◆

“B-Bishop, I beg you to stop, His Excellency is engaged in conversation—”

“Wait! Dad, wait!”

“Let go of me! I said let go!”

I could hear all kinds of voices.

“Stop with your meddling, you witless fools!”

The door flew open with a bang.

It was Bishop Bagley. He was followed by a train of the mansion’s servants, a young woman who I assumed was a deacon, and more besides. Breathing heavily, he tromped into the room, dragging people along as they clung to him in protest, and without any reservation, he stood before the duke.

The bishop’s eyes glinted in a different way than Ethelbald’s, and he took a moment to glare at him before opening his mouth. “I would greatly appreciate it if Your Excellency would refrain from this sort of bullheaded behavior.”

“Oh? Bullheaded behavior? To what do you refer, Bishop Bagley?” He shrugged as he asked, looking almost amused.

“Do not take me for a fool!” The bishop stomped loudly on the floor. “This young man,” he shouted, pointing at me, “is registered at my temple! Temporary arrangement or otherwise, he is a member of the temple! Yet you beckon him here without a single word of notice! What is the meaning of this?! Does Your Excellency mean to completely disregard the temple’s authority?!” He was so incensed he hardly paused for breath.

“Oh, I see… I had no idea. Is that true?”

“Um… yes.” I did write my name in the register. But that had clearly not been anything very important… It was more like a guest book or something…

“Ignorance is no excuse! Just because I was absent does not give you license to ignore verification procedure!”

“That may be so, but the people at your temple seemed quite happy to send him here.”

“A simple lack of training! I will give them a good scolding later!!” he said, and slammed his bloated hand, covered in gold and silver rings, on the table. The way the fat wobbled from the impact looked somehow ridiculous. “In any case, he belongs to this temple! It is not acceptable for Your Excellency to freely—”

“That is where you are mistaken, Bishop. He is more than that.”

“What…?”

“He asked me to let him form a private army. He says he wants to save the poor people of Beast Woods.”

“What?!” The bishop’s head snapped towards me this time. “Y-Yo-You…” he sputtered, his eyes wide.

“To be honest, I would be lying if I said the thought of killing him didn’t cross my mind.”

The bishop was speechless now, and his mouth was flapping open and closed like that of a goldfish.

“But he spoke his mind so openly,” the duke continued, “that I found myself intrigued.”

“Wh—?!”

“I am thinking of appointing him as a knight. What would you say, Bishop, about the temple giving its blessing?”

“Wh-What?!”

“You know, a holy knight. A paladin. Both I and the temple would take equal share of the responsibility and the profits… Well?”

“WHAAAAT?!”

He was so loud. The entire room was trembling.

“He would fall under our joint authority, and if it came to it, you could always have him excommunicated.”

“That is not the issue!”

“The temple can attest to his good character, and with him being the Wyvern Killer… Yes, I’m sure it will work out.”

“That is not the issue!”

“Then what is?”

“This is too sudden!” He slammed a fist against the desk again. “I will take him back with me and we will discuss this! Will you settle for that?”

“Hmm, that will do fine. Discuss all you wish. But I would be truly happy to see this a reality, Bagley. I have taken a liking to this man.”

“I had this when you gave me your support. I’ll thank you to keep me out of your ridiculous games!” he said at the top of his voice, then scowled at me and Menel. “You! Novice! We are leaving! Come along!”

“Y-Yes!” I hurriedly stood from my chair.

Hurricane Bagley was gone as quickly as it had come, and with that, my meeting with His Excellency Ethelbald, Lord of Whitesails, came to a close.

◆

“Menaces causing me trouble, the lot of them…”

Bishop Bagley griped constantly on our way back. Menel pretended to listen, but I could tell the clergyman was getting on his nerves. Yeah, these two were not going to get along.

“Um—” I was about to step in and say something, but…

“Especially you, novice! Did you not think to consult me before going off on your own…?!”

As Bishop Bagley’s complaints became increasingly vehement, Menel finally started talking back. “Consult? Fig to that. We aren’t your pawns.”

“What did you say to me?! I am the head of the temple!”

“So what?!” They started quarreling, and after that, it was impossible for me to intervene. Gods, these two were like oil and water…

As I watched them argue, the deacon who had been attempting to stop the bishop back at the lord’s mansion spoke to me. “I’m sorry about Papa. There are a lot of things troubling him recently, and he seems to be a little frustrated…” She had her flaxen hair loosely braided and was smartly dressed in a jacket, waistcoat, and long skirt.

“That’s all right. I apologize on behalf of my companion. So, are you Bishop Bagley’s daughter, then?” I’d been wondering about that. True, as far as I was aware, there was no restriction on marriage for members of the clergy in this world, but was the bishop really married?

“Yes, I’m his daughter. We’re not related by blood, though.”

“So…”

“Before being appointed here, my father was in the capital. He was in charge of running a temple with a large orphanage.”

“Ah, I see.”

Exactly how he’d gotten the duke’s attention I had no idea, but somehow he had, and the duke plucked him from the capital and brought him here. I hadn’t known Bishop Bagley for long, but the incident at the mansion had taught me that he was capable of being pushy. Maybe the duke had judged that he would be well suited to running a temple in a remote region like this.

“Many of my seniors and friends who left the orphanage found jobs back on the mainland. Papa helped them get into a lot of different places, but I and a dozen or so others followed him over here.”

Not only did he have quite a few connections, he had some very loyal people under him as well. Although I’d been keeping an open mind about the man for a while, it was probably time that I formed a definite opinion.

Outwardly, he looked corrupt, was terribly grumpy, and gave a ridiculous first impression—but despite all that, Bishop Bagley was probably quite competent.

“Bishop Bagley.” I called out to the bishop, who was still arguing with Menel about something or other. “Thank you very much. You intervening really helped me.”

“You think I did it for you?! I merely defended the temple’s authority from His Excellency’s self-centered actions. You come second!” Then he went back to grumbling about the duke and how he did outrageous things when something captured his interest.

Bishop Bagley really did complain a lot. Even though getting all this off his chest was probably his way of staying sane, I felt like I understood why he didn’t seem well-liked within the temple.

“But still, all that aside,” he said to me, “the authority of the common folk must be respected. Please remain in the chapel after Evening Prayer. We will discuss His Excellency’s proposal.”

“All right, understood. Ah, but… umm…”

“What now?!”

“Sorry… What’s Evening Prayer?”

A noticeable vein bulged on the bishop’s temple. There was a pause, and then he let loose a furious volley of insults.

Yes, I’m really ignorant, I’m sorry…

◆

Apparently, religious services had undergone a lot of reformation over the last two hundred years. All the daily cycle’s observances, which in Mary’s time had included Vespers, Compline, and several others, were now combined into something called Evening Prayer.

Considering how multiple services had been combined into one and the language used during it had also been simplified, it seemed likely that the collapse of the Union Age had meant that some places hadn’t been able to maintain that complicated system of rituals. Also, the bishop and deacon both looked shocked when I told them that I knew about Vespers and Compline, so it looked like even those terms weren’t heard much anymore.

“Were you studying with people who were familiar with the old liturgy?” he asked me. “A tribe of long-lived monks or something?”

“Umm, yes. That’s more or less correct.” I wasn’t sure if becoming undead counted as being “long-lived,” but there was no doubt that Mary had been very familiar with the old ways of worship.

“So you’re not completely ignorant, then.” Bishop Bagley hummed in thought. “Anna, there should be a book or two in the library that cover the revisions to the liturgy. Get them for me, and while you’re at it, see if you can arrange for a suitable teacher for him. Not only is this man a novice, he’s a relic of two centuries ago. This is going to take some effort.”

I got the feeling he was deliberately bad-mouthing me again, but I couldn’t complain—he’d pretty much hit the bullseye. Behind the bishop, the deacon called Anna bowed her head repeatedly to me, looking really apologetic.

After that, I returned to the temple, joined back up with Bee and Tonio, was subjected to a barrage of questions (mainly from Bee), and after dealing with a lot of other random tasks that needed to be done, I took part in Evening Prayer.

Even though the people of the temple were still very busy clearing debris and treating the injured, it looked like none of them intended to neglect their daily prayer. They clearly felt that times of hardship were when it was most important to pray. I thought that was a very laudable attitude.

The service was very solemn and impressive, but I felt a little uncomfortable. Everyone suggested good seats to me, and eyes flicked towards me from all directions. I wasn’t used to receiving hospitality like this or being the center of attention, so I never felt settled throughout the service.

Once it was over, everyone left the chapel, and I waited there for a while in prayer. Soon enough, the bishop arrived. He’d apparently had an appointment to keep and had cut out on the scheduled prayer.

“One moment,” he said. Then he got down on his knees, put his hands together, and prayed.

In an instant, the atmosphere in the chapel, empty except for me and the bishop, completely changed.

The bishop’s praying looked astonishingly natural. It was a beautiful sight, even though the bishop himself was far from so. I had never seen anyone look so in their element while praying before—no one, that is, except Mary. I found myself with my hands together as well.

“Now then.” The bishop prayed for a far shorter time than I thought he would.

“U-Um…”

“What?”

“Bishop Bagley, this has been on my mind for a while, uh…” I paused for a moment to choose my words. “You have definitely been blessed with a high level of protection from the gods, I can see that.”

I had no doubt about that after what I just felt. I’d had a kind of sense of it ever since I first met the bishop, but now I felt confident saying it: the protection he’d been blessed with probably equaled mine, or even exceeded it.

“But I heard from the people at the temple that you don’t use blessings. But if that’s what your prayers are like, then I think you either don’t let people see them, or you deliberately tone it down in front of them. Why is that?”

“Hah. Idiot novice.”

He insulted me…

“What do you understand benediction to be, boy?”

“Protection received from the gods.”

“Then tell me, why did the gods bless you with protection? To give you special treatment? I hardly think so, do you?”

I was silent.

“It is because through you—do you understand this? Through you, the god has something they want accomplished. And we must constantly think of how to use our blessings in a way that is consistent with the desires of the gods who gave us our protection. Those who treat them like a tool to be used whenever convenient merely take away from the majesty of the gods; they do not add to it. The protection such fools receive only declines over time. Many of those nitwits fail to understand that. Because they do not understand, they remain forever novices, and eventually lose their protection.”

The bishop was really sounding off about this.

“I am the head of this temple. It is in a rough area that has only just started to be developed. To secure money and rights, we must shout and intimidate; to build consensus, we must do favors and use bribes. Imagine what it would do for me to parade around high-level blessings under those circumstances. The populace would think, ‘What are the gods thinking, giving protection to a man like that?’”

He glared at me. “Let me ask you, boy, do you think that is consistent with what my guardian deity desires? Do you think that would be useful in raising the prestige of Volt, god of lightning and judgment?”

“No.”

“Precisely. No. In which case, the correct conduct for both blessings and prayer is to keep them stored away inside. I have left the spectacle of blessings and the promotion of the gods’ prestige in the very talented hands of the vice-bishop. He is also good at winning over the hearts and minds of the people. I can leave the bothersome and stressful task of being the pretty face of the temple to him.”

Then, Bishop Bagley turned the conversation on me. “And what about you, greenhorn? Do you think yourself a ‘hero’ just because you killed a wyvern?”

I couldn’t come up with a response.

“A paladin,” he said, snorting derisively. “A paladin?! Here we have a stripling who still does not even understand what it means to be blessed, and he is to be called a paladin?! His Excellency does enjoy his jokes!”

The bishop displayed his astonishment through exaggerated gestures, and because I honestly didn’t know how to respond, I just listened.

“Boy. I can even tell him for you, if you like. If I refuse firmly, even His Excellency will surely let this go. Well…?” he asked, his tone overbearing.

His stare and his large body worked together to give an intimidating impression that was no less than what I’d felt from the Duke of Southmark.

“Put the idea to rest, greenhorn,” he said. “Nothing good will come of it.”

“Even so…” I didn’t look away. I looked right back into the bishop’s eyes. “Even so, through me, my god is trying to accomplish something.”

The bishop frowned and looked at me, his expression stern.

“You will not budge?”

“I will not.”

“Fool.”

“Probably.”

“What did you swear to the god of flux?”

“To dedicate my life to her, to drive away evil, and to bring salvation to those in sorrow.”

“Rejoice. I have met many nitwits over the years, and you have exceeded them all.” He gave a massive sigh. “I will find a few people for you. You do the rest yourself.”

I bowed my head very deeply and thanked him. No matter what anyone else said about this man, I decided that he had won my respect.

◆

After that, the brakes seemed to come off, and everything became frenetic.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the bishop contacting the duke to inform him of our intention to accept his offer, while the solemn-looking priest that Anna had found lectured me on matters of etiquette and current ceremonial procedure for priests.

The wheels had already been set in motion for me to receive my decoration. It was all happening terrifyingly fast. Was it really supposed to be this easy to receive a knighthood? I wondered what on earth had driven them to act with such unprecedented speed.

That said, the damage the wyvern had done was not to be taken lightly; there were people who had lost their homes and jobs, and I’d heard whispers that they wanted a celebration that might create some temporary work. Ah, come to think of it, even in the ancient and medieval histories of my former world, new temples and shrines were erected whenever disasters occurred. There must have been aspects of wealth redistribution to that, too.

In any case, if I was knighted, things would move a lot more quickly. People, money, and things—all would be easier to manage with authority and the power underlying it. When I thought about it that way, it didn’t feel terribly important that I’d be collared by the duke and the bishop. I didn’t think that those two would treat me too badly, anyway… probably.

“Whence came he? And where trained, and where studied? Of him we know little, but that he is the disciple of the lost god of flux, and carrieth within him the divine torch.”

This was probably a necessary step.

“The depth of his faith equal to that of a bishop, the depth of his study to that of a sage. And dwelling in his arms, a strength without peer that crushed a wyvern. Through this man’s body, Souls of the three Heroes, do you intend your names of great renown to boom forth once more?!”

Th-This was… necessary.

“The Disciple of the Torch, the Wyvern Killer, the Peerless Powerhouse—the Faraway Paladin, William G. Maryblood. One and all, learn the names of the new Hero who appeared in the city of white sails! Hmm, that feels about right!”

Okay, even if it was necessary, c’mon!

“Bee, would you mind not practicing your story right in front of me?!”

“Come onnnn. Don’t be such a sourpuss.”

“It’s ridiculously embarrassing!”

“That’s the level of what you did, so it’s your own fig fault! What’s she supposed to say?”

“That doesn’t make it not embarrassing!”

We were in our room at the temple. As the three of us talked and argued, Tonio quietly fiddled with an abacus. “Hmm.”

“What’s wrong, Tonio?”

“I am unfortunately coming to the conclusion that a large number of draft animals will be quite pricey, no matter what I do.”

“Ah, about that…”

Things had gotten really messy with all this knight business that came from me killing the wyvern, but I hadn’t forgotten my main objective. My goal was the same as ever: to hunt the demons of Beast Woods, and at the same time, do something about the economic issues of that area and promote the good name of the god of the flame.

And to that end, I had a plan.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“Could you look around for any animals that are sick or hurt, and do a bit of negotiating to buy them at a low price?”

“Huh?”

“Then I’ll heal them all.”

“Oh…!” Tonio’s eyes opened wide.

Yeah, I have been thinking about this, Tonio. This and all kinds of other things.

The livestock merchant would be happy for the chance to sell off their sick and injured animals, and we would be happy because we’d get the animals we needed. As for the potential impact on the merchant’s future sales, the villages of Beast Woods were very cold and had extremely low purchasing power, so they wouldn’t have been big customers for the merchant in the first place.

I’d also get to save the animals that were suffering. They would continue to be draft animals and be put to hard work, so I couldn’t say if that was something to be happy about—but at least in theory, everyone would end up satisfied.

In practice, the merchant would probably not feel too great that he’d sold off his injured stock only to have them healed right after, so we’d need to tread carefully there, but that was only a slight problem.

“Also… it would be really helpful if I could keep relying on you for trading between Beast Woods and Whitesails… How much money do I need to put in?”

Tonio put his hand on his chin and hummed in thought. “Will,” he said, “I think we need to sit down and talk business for a moment.”

“B-Be gentle with me…”

My to-do list was getting longer and longer. But I had only one objective, and I was ever progressing toward it. Gracefeel, I whispered in my mind, I’m doing okay. And I’ll do my best.

I felt the quiet and expressionless goddess give the slightest of smiles.

◆

It looked like a reasonably large inn. It had two floors; the bottom level was a bar, and upstairs, there were rooms for travelers. They were on the second floor, of course, to prevent sleep-and-runs. Some things are the same in every world, I mused.

The sign hanging out front said “Steel Sword Inn,” and below it was a small banner with a weapons motif. That was apparently the symbol of an “Adventurers’ Lodge”—a gathering spot that also served to bring adventurers and jobs together.

Adventurers were outlaws, making their livings as mercenary-like hired muscle, bodyguards, Union Age ruin-hunters, beast exterminators, and anything else that paid reward money. In terms of my previous world’s history, the professional gladiators of ancient Rome may have been closest, or perhaps the gunslingers in Westerns. Their social status wasn’t high, yet at the same time, it was a class that produced both heroes and fortunes in a heartbeat.

It was evening, and the streets were full of laborers on their way back from work. Menel and I reached the inn, whose door had been left wide open, and we peered inside. There was already a din inside, despite the hour. We saw people wearing warm clothes—we were, after all, still in winter—clacking together horns filled with ale. But there was something a little strange about it.

“Those are… beast horns. And leather.” The drinking horns they were casually using had come from horned beasts, and some of the cloaks and waistcoats they were wearing had been made from beast hide. Menel whispered to me that those were their battle trophies, an easy way for them to flaunt their power.

We stepped inside. Heads turned, there was a moment of silence, and then chatter.

“A young’un with chestnut-brown hair and a silver-’aired mixed elf with ’im.”

“He’s done a hell of a lot of training. You can tell…”

“That’s him. No doubt.”

The first voice that called out to me was a clearly agile-looking man who was pleasantly drunk. “It’s the man of the hour himself! Wyvern Killer! What d’you want with a bar all the way out here?”

“I have a job that needs doing.”

“Then you should talk to the owner and pay a bit to use the board.”

“Thank you.” I looked over to the wall of the inn and saw that there was a large wooden board hanging there, onto which numerous pieces of paper and leather had been pinned. I called out to the owner, bought several pins (that was how they charged the listing fee), and pinned up my sheet beside all the others.

That attracted a lot of interest, and everyone gathered around to see what my job was.

ADVENTURERS WANTED.

For search of demon-infested Beast Woods.

Months of complete darkness.

Constant danger.

Safe return doubtful.

Meager reward.

Honor and recognition in case of success.

— William G. Maryblood.

And the place fell silent.

◆

“Hey. Mister Hero.” The first reaction I got was a drunken and taunting voice. “We ain’t a charity. Ain’t none of us gonna go in on that.”

The person talking to me was a thick-armed, red-faced man who looked about thirty. He was wearing a sparkling steel breastplate and had a sword on his hip in a vibrant red sheath that didn’t have a single scratch. “Right, guys?” he said, and a few people who I guessed were his party hooted back their agreement and called me stingy.

Menel started to ball his hands into fists. I had a moment of panic, and then—

A scruffy-looking man sluggishly wandered over.

“Shut it, blowhards.”

His few words silenced them.

The man had a beard, and I couldn’t guess his age. He seemed to be in good shape physically, but looked pretty spiritless. The cloak he was wearing was scorched, worn down, and covered in scratches. The sword sheath on his hip looked beaten up and like it had some alterations made to it. But more than any of that, what I paid the most attention to was his fingers.

They were covered in scars and dirt, and all his nails were clipped short. Once, while relating one of his former exploits, Blood had said to me:

— When you see a swordsman, look at his fingertips. Whenever there’s something inside you making you doubt, saying drawing your weapon is a bad idea, and you wanna know, do you listen to that voice or do you shut it up? You just look at his hands.

“It looks to me…” He spoke slowly. I guessed he wasn’t good with words. “Like you’re looking for madmen. You’re not interested in blowhards, who have manners and patience and a business smile, but not much skill. You want a bunch of crude shitheads who fear nothing. You want scum-of-the-earth madmen who will dice with death for a dumb idea.”

I nodded. I wasn’t planning on giving them poor compensation on purpose, but the fact remained that exterminating demons in a poor area like this was a dangerous and not very lucrative job. There were still some untouched ruins still remaining, but even those came with dangers, and I didn’t want people working for me under false pretenses.

Menel and I had both agreed that we should look for adventurers who were after honor, glory, and risk rather than adventurers who were only doing it for the money. And I’d heard that this “Steel Sword Inn” was where those kinds of people were based. So I replied:

“That’s exactly right. That’s why I chose this place.”

“You hear him? That’s what he wants! Mister Hero’s looking for madmen!” After he yelled this, a number of people who had been watching us from their tables rose to their feet.

“Tch. You Strider bastards,” one of the blowhards said. “If you strike it rich out there, toss us a coin or two for once!”

All the people with attractive equipment, like the one who had first called out to me, lightly clicked their tongues and returned to their tables. I guessed they’d been hoping for something they could profit from, and if that’s not what this was, they were clearly not interested. It was only natural that some people would put their livelihoods first and foremost.

Those who now approached me, on the other hand, were largely uncouth people with dirty gear and a prickly manner. Most of their equipment was covered in beast hide, and they had been drinking their booze out of beast horns. These were people who would hardly give a second’s consideration to safe and secure jobs, like being a merchant’s bodyguard. They were ruffians to the core who liked the flames of their lives to burn hot, stoked with fighting, risk, and adventure.

Yes—they were people like Blood!

“What’re you looking for in Beast Woods?” one asked.

“Ruins or open air?” asked another.

“I don’t do small shit.”

I deliberately gave them all a fearless grin. “The boss of the demons.”

When I said that, some of the adventurers went silent for a moment. I cast my eyes over them all. “The leader of the demons that are running wild in the western part of Beast Woods. He’s thought to have beasts under him. He is our target.”

“Big one…” the bearded man who had first spoken to me said, thinking aloud.

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

“Location’s unclear… It’d take some work to even find him.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“And if we get ambushed while we’re searching, they’ll kill us in a blink.”

“I imagine so.”

“Long story short—this sounds like a stupid, full of risk, fun-as-hell adventure.” He laughed, as if at death. “If there’s a spot for me, I’m in. Just need food and a place to sleep and I’m good. If there’s some pocket change in it for me, even better.”

“Me too.” “And me.” Other voices quickly followed, saying the same thing.

“Of course. You will have them. And payment as well.”

A cheer rose from the group.

“But before that,” I said.

“What?”

I smiled and extended my hand to the man.

“Would you all tell me your names? I’m Will. William G. Maryblood.”

“Reystov.”

Something that Bee had once said resurfaced in my mind.

— Oh right, have to pick something. Of the recent songs… Reystov the Penetrator is overplayed right now…

“The Penetrator?”

“Get called that,” the bearded adventurer replied gruffly.

◆

Those days in Whitesails went by quickly.

“I, the Duke of Southmark, Ethelbald Rex Southmark, confer the honor of knighthood upon thee.”

The temple’s church was majestic. His Excellency was standing at the far end, with crowds of attendees on either side. Beside him was the vice-bishop, who would bestow his blessing upon me. He had thin, kind-looking eyes and a gentle face shape that was quite memorable.

I walked slowly towards them.

To tell the truth, I wanted to have Bishop Bagley bless me since he’d done so much for me already, but when I asked him, he refused point-blank. He said it would cause him problems to publicly show himself being pious and having a deep connection with the gods; during his many negotiations, it was important that he be able to lead the other person into thinking he might do something a pious priest never would. He was very thorough about it, even going so far as to offer half-hearted prayers in front of others and then pray anew when he was alone.

It was a real shame. I had expressed this to the vice-bishop, and he concurred with me, saying that he, too, was disappointed such a great man would go unknown to the world.

I found the vice-bishop to be a very nice person.

I reached where I was meant to stand for the ceremony. The duke took a sword from where it rested on the altar and said, “May he become the guardian of this temple, of the needy, and of all who place trust in the good gods, and stand against the gods of evil and their atrocities.”

The sword was handed to the vice-bishop, then passed to me. I put the sword into the sheath that had been arranged for me beforehand, and then, following the ceremony as I had been instructed, I drew and re-sheathed it three times. The clear sound of the sword’s motion against the sheath echoed around the church.

The duke continued his speech. “To you, the one who will now become a knight: You must defend the teachings of the good gods and protect the temple, the needy, and all those who pray and work in earnest.”

I dropped to one knee, adjusted my hold on the sword so I was holding the sheath with both hands, and presented him the handle. His Excellency drew the sword, and with the side of the blade, he lightly tapped my shoulders three times.

The sword was then returned to me. I accepted it, stood, and placed it back in its sheath, the sound once more filling the church.

The vice-bishop used the blessing of Sanctification, and a holy aura filled the air. “I beseech thee, my guardian deity Enlight, god of knowledge, that through thee our voices may be heard! May the blessing of Gracefeel, god of the flame, be with this man always and forever!”

The god of knowledge, Enlight—he was the aged god with one eye, the god of learning, who could perceive both what could be seen as well as what could not.

“Hold fast to your oath, respect your god’s teachings, and protect the vulnerable. May you be a light unto the world!”

He shouted the end with arms spread wide, and cheers and applause erupted from the crowd.

“May you be a light unto the world!”

“God bless the birth of our new knight!”

“May the light shine on the frontier!”

“Blessed be the knight of the torch!”

“Long live the Paladin!”

And very quickly after that, the place was taken over by festivities. To loud cheers, all the influential, powerful people present gave generous donations to the crowds. This decoration ceremony had provided an excuse for a big handout to those who had suffered damage from the wyvern. That alone had made it worth it, I felt.

An enormous feast was held. It was a whole-city event. Wrestling matches were arranged as entertainment. After I won by fall against five people in a row, my satisfied grin was the last straw for a whole group of knights who surrounded me and made me suffer the same defeat.

“We beat the Wyvern Killer!” they shouted out gleefully, laughing their heads off.

“You cheaters!” I laughed with them. “Menel, Menel! Come on, you fight me, too!”

“What?! No, feck off!”

As usual, Menel didn’t want to join in on party stuff. I dragged him out.

“Oh! You’re the Paladin’s servant, uh…”

“He’s not my servant, he’s my friend!”

“We’re not friends!” Menel shot back.

“R-Right…”

Bee was cheerfully singing my story. She said something about how much money she was raking in. I was too embarrassed to listen.

Tonio and Reystov seemed to be taking advantage of the feast to make connections with all kinds of new people. They never missed a trick.

The festivities continued into the night.

And that was how I became the paladin of this faraway land.

◆

Diamond. diamond. diamond.