Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 12 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 — The One Who Pleads and the One Who Listens

Priest Yan was just on the slighter side of average in build and height. His most distinguishing features were probably his somewhat thin eyes. The outer edge of his eyes was somewhat lower, so coupled with their narrowness, he looked like he was constantly smiling.

The regard the other two people by the same name possessed for him had given Zenjirou the impression that this was someone with a stronger presence. Despite that, though, the priest was gentle in appearance and tone alike. He gave off the air of an intellectual.

Zenjirou had a wordless sense of unease as he viewed the man, though. It was like there was something that should have been there but wasn’t, something he should have been able to see that, instead, he could not. Internally, he questioned what was causing it. Still, given how much he had wanted to speak with the man, he couldn’t let himself get caught up in that sense of unease and neglect the conversation.

“So, you are Priest Yan. I am currently staying at the Ancient Arbor and made the acquaintance of a mercenary leader named Yan. His statements about you have left me rather curious,” he said affably.

“I see. Commander Yan spoke with you. He has been a great aid. In fact, I would have liked for him to accompany me here,” the man replied. His voice was by no means loud, but it somehow carried superbly.

“I suppose it was his position? Perhaps etiquette as well.”

“I doubt there would be issues with etiquette. The commander comes from a noble family. While they may be of low rank, I would say he knows the etiquette for these situations better than myself.”

The statement made Zenjirou think back on his and the mercenary’s interactions. The way Yan kept himself groomed and the way he ate were perfect examples.

“Ah, I can certainly see why you might say so,” Zenjirou agreed. “May I ask what kind of place you hail from?”

“Of course. I am making no real attempts to hide it. I came from the slums of Carrel,” the priest said. “Ah, Carrel is the name of my homeland’s capital.”

“I can certainly respect the faith and effort it must have taken to rise to the position of a priest as you have.”

“Thank you, Sir Zenjirou.”

There was a pleasant mood to the air as they talked. After a while, Zenjirou brought up a new subject.

“I assume you can tell from my looks, but I have had no prior dealings with the church and come from quite a ways away. For future reference, would you be willing to give a simple explanation?”

Even without explicitly stating his origin and heritage, his dark hair, skin, and eyes, along with the formalwear of Capua, made it clear at a glance that he was not from the Northern Continent. Their potential trade partner—Uppasala—was one of the few countries on the continent that put their faith in the spirits, but the dominant religious establishment on the continent was the church. Having no knowledge of the church could lead to unforeseen problems with trade in the future.

Złota Wolność was a country that predominantly followed the church but legally guaranteed religious freedoms—an even rarer thing. It was perhaps the absolute ideal place to learn. The priest looked somewhat uneasy at Zenjirou’s question, though. After a moment’s thought, he nodded in agreement.

“Well...very well. However, just the basics that most anyone would agree with.”

There was a certain level of implication to that answer. It sounded like some people would give different answers than others. Religions had different denominations, and even those of the same denomination could have differing interpretations. Zenjirou wasn’t particularly surprised by that, but he was somewhat taken aback to hear a priest say as much. He had an image of priests taking the word of their own denomination as the one true explanation.

Whether aware of the surprise Zenjirou was feeling or not, Yan offered a soft question. “What is the extent of your knowledge to begin with, Sir Zenjirou?”

“Practically just that it is a faith venerating ancient and wise dragons.”

He had gotten the absolute basics from Freya and her subordinates, but they were relatively unaware and may have had biases of their own. Zenjirou thought it was best to admit his lack of knowledge rather than try to feign knowing more than he did in front of a priest, of all people.

“I see. That is not strictly speaking incorrect. Furthermore, while those of a more animistic faith call them ancient—or wise and ancient—dragons, we of the church call them true dragons or even simply ‘dragons.’ Those who use the former consider the unintelligent land and sea drakes you can see in the forests and seas ‘sub-dragons.’”

“Ah. Hence the distinction of true dragons.”

“Indeed. You could certainly call them ancient dragons, but to those of us of the church, all dragons are holy. It would make the discussion easier if you could accept that.”

It was something of no real concern to the followers of the spirits, but a point that the church was particular about. Considering that, the conversation would be smoother if they surrendered that point. Constantly yielding to such beliefs would be detrimental to an equal relationship, but this wasn’t the time to be hardheaded over such matters.

“Very well. Then I shall call them true dragons as well,” Zenjirou agreed. “You spoke of land and sea drakes a moment ago, but I had heard that such creatures were entirely unseen on the Northern Continent?”

The priest gave a slightly proud smile at that. “Indeed. That is true. However, there is a forest in the northeast of this country untouched by human hands. Land drakes breed there. It is said that within its farthest reaches, there is a cave wherein a true dragon sleeps. I am unaware of the veracity of that claim, though.”

The church considered the forest holy land, so none were able to enter it to verify the rumor.

“Oh, there is much you have to hear from the people themselves, I suppose,” Zenjirou observed.

“Quite so. Rumors and reality are often rather at odds.”

“Well, rumors, tradition, and learning can all change as they are passed on, even without the intention to do so.”

“They can. Particularly with information passing from person to person, time plays as large a role as distance.”

Zenjirou let out a noise of musing. The conversation seemed like it was about to stray from the commonly accepted things he could hear from anyone. Indeed, his expectation proved to be correct.

“The church’s teachings are static. They are not wrong, but the teachings themselves are vast, and the capacity a person has to accept such teachings is much more limited. Thus it is an unfortunate truth of the world that despite believing in the same things, people claim different things. There are two major denominations at present. The apostles and the champions. More generally, they are called the fang and claw, respectively.”

Summarizing the priest’s explanations thereafter, the church taught that the true dragons had ruled the world, and humanity had led a life free of suffering under their patronage. Eventually, though, they had left humanity and departed from the world. Before they’d left, there had been a particularly strong and compassionate dragon, The True Dragon of the Five Colors, who had gifted the humans a fang and claw apiece to protect and guide them.

The fang was given humanoid form with limited intelligence—hence, the apostle. The claw became a weapon, bestowed to a chosen one—or champion.

“Those of the apostle’s denomination take the apostle’s word as the highest authority and those of the fang take their chosen champion’s actions as the same.”

“I see. The differences are born from a long history of teachings. From what you said, though, the general acceptance is that the fang and claw alike were left behind by the true dragon, the pinnacle of the church’s faith, no? It seems natural to me that both factions would respect both items.”

Zenjirou’s question was completely sensible, and the priest didn’t hesitate in the slightest before answering.

“Just so, but unfortunately, the words left behind by the apostle and the actions recorded by the champion have irreconcilable differences. Therefore one must inevitably be prioritized over the other.”

Originally, it may have started as vague feelings of preference, but the fang and claw were now completely different denominations of the faith. Buildings belonging to the church had clear signs as to which faction they belonged to, so it was hardly an exaggeration to call them completely different religions, in fact. The problem then became where the priest in front of him fell.

“That was truly intriguing. If you will pardon a somewhat insolent question, which denomination do you belong to?”

If he didn’t ask, progressing with the conversation any further would be rather difficult. The plain green robes the man was wearing held no symbols of either a claw or fang. Perhaps despite the churches themselves being labeled, the priests and clergy of each were not?

The man responded with a plain expression of surprise. “Ah, neither. From time to time, I use both sets of tenets. When the apostle’s teachings seem most suited to guide a person, I draw on their words. When the champion’s valor is needed to grant courage, I speak of their prowess and skill.”

“Is that...acceptable?”

The word “heresy” passed through Zenjirou’s mind. The priest seemed to surmise as much and lifted his slender shoulders into a shrug.

“I see no issue,” he replied, unbothered. “The apostle and champion, along with the clergy, spread the true dragons’ teachings and offer salvation, guidance, and succor to the people. Using only one side of things to do so while discounting the other is a waste.”

“From your earlier statements, though, the denominations on the Northern Continent are all split between the fang and claw, no? Does that not hold true for you as well?”

“It causes no issue. I am officially a priest for the Church of the Claw, so I suppose you could classify me as such if you must. However, I am also the dean of dracology at the university of my motherland, and normally consider that to be my main calling.”

Dracology was—if translated into the specialisms of Zenjirou’s homeland—likely something akin to theology.

“I see. It is somehow little surprise.”

Indeed, he felt more assured than shocked by the statement. The tone of the priest’s discussion with him had been less preaching beliefs and more explaining the results of research in as objective a fashion as possible.

“And so I would stress that what I say here is simple knowledge. The statements come from what either denomination teaches.”

It was somewhat unfortunate that the first member of the church he had met could be considered one of a small minority of heretics. Still, it was much less so than meeting someone who insisted that only their teachings were true.

The man was rather idiosyncratic, despite his mild appearance. Still, he was rational and insightful, acting more to allow his partner in conversation to understand than anything else. In a way, such people were more trustworthy than most others. Zenjirou could—to a certain extent—see how the mercenary and orphan both by the name of Yan held him in such high esteem despite their relatively small amount of contact.

“I thank you for the valuable insights,” Zenjirou said. “Incidentally, the mercenary was not the only person I heard of you from. Do you remember anything about an orphan by the name of Yan?”

Now that he knew the bare minimum about what the priest was like as a person, he could move on to the main reason for seeking the man out. An orphan having such faith in the man after only meeting him once had made things seem more suspicious rather than less. But now that he had met the priest, Zenjirou didn’t feel the conversation would go in a bad direction.

The priest thought in silence for a while before eventually shaking his head. “No, I cannot say I recall such a person. But I have traveled far and wide and Yan is a rather common name, so it is not enough to narrow down who you mean.”

Zenjirou hesitated for a moment after the regretful admission before adding another piece of information. “The boy said that you came to preach at his village once while it still stood. He seemed to be less than ten years old, so it should not have been too long ago.”

The boy’s age meant that the event ought to have happened in the last few years. In other words, he came from somewhere the priest had preached, which no longer existed, and their meeting had been in the last few years. The implication was immediately obvious.

The priest bit his lip and then spoke. “I may know. There was a village by the name of Scheente Las. As far as I know, that is the only village I have visited in recent times that has been ruined. I cannot say the youth’s name for certain, but I remember a boy who admired me there.”

While Zenjirou didn’t know the name of the village, everything else matched and gave considerable credence to the claim. As a final check, he purposefully lowered his voice. “Priest, this may be an odd question, but do you know where the village of Scheente Las was? Specifically, is it close to Pomorskie?”

The purposeful lowering of his tone was more of a hint to the gravity of the situation than the question itself was.

“No,” the priest answered after a pause. “It was rather distant. Scheente Las is in the far north of the commonwealth, near the borders of the Knight’s Realm and the holy ground I mentioned earlier. If you have spoken with him, am I to believe he has made his way here?”

“He has. To meet you.”

“Me?” he asked, surprise plain on his face for a moment before he schooled his expression to a sober calm.

“Indeed. It seems there is something he absolutely must tell you. Something that could become a major concern if it is ignored. He has made his way across the country to this town to tell you.”

There wasn’t even an instant of hesitation before Yan answered. “I shall meet him. I will bid Lord Pomorskie farewell. Excuse me.”

Although taken aback by the priest’s sudden move to leave, Zenjirou managed to call out before he was out of earshot, “Wait, Priest Yan. I would accompany you.”

This was the bare minimum he could do. While he might have been in the North unofficially, he was royalty and had mediated between a priest and an orphan in a foreign country. If the orphan’s concerns were truly on the level the boy believed, Zenjirou had to hear at least the summary. In the extreme, if he only introduced the two, then some other country could come before him with grievances that he had ruined their plans, as well as demands for reparations. He had to know what went on at least as the result of his introduction to be able to deal with such things more easily.

Of course, the best case was that the orphan was exaggerating and there was no real concern. Young though the child was, however, he couldn’t ignore the boy’s claims. It would be bad for his mental health at the very least.

“Very well, I would welcome you,” the priest agreed.

“Princess Freya and I are the guests of honor tonight, so leaving midway through the night will be rather difficult. I trust you can wait a little longer?”

The other man nodded after a few moments of consideration.

“I can. Pardon my taking your time,” he answered.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

The day ended with both Zenjirou and the priest spending the night at the estate.

They had spoken with the lord and informed him they would be leaving early in the morning. There was therefore little of note as the group departed.

The splendid carriage waiting for them carried Zenjirou, Freya, and the priest—along with their companions—back to the Ancient Arbor. As soon as they returned, Zenjirou summoned Margarette and explained their next steps.

“Priest Yan is in agreement. He mentioned meeting the youth directly but considering the possibilities in play, we would like to minimize the chances of eavesdropping. Margarette, bring the boy back here.”

“Understood, sir. It may take a while. Is that acceptable?”

“It is. Act as you see fit.”

“Excuse me, then,” she replied, giving an elegant bow before leaving to carry out his instructions.

Indeed, it was nigh on noon by the time she returned with the orphan. The time was mostly spent making sure the dirty youth would be allowed into the high-class lodging the Ancient Arbor represented. Specifically, they had paid for a place at another inn with bathing facilities and cleaned him from head to toe before clothing him in children’s attire from the Ancient Arbor. Thanks to that, they were not stopped from entering. Of course, the eye-catching way he was peering this way and that at his surroundings made it obvious he was not the young noble such places usually catered to.

The room Zenjirou was using was the best room in the already high-class lodgings. The “Royal Suite,” as it were. It must have been highly discomfiting to the young orphan.

Zenjirou was the most highly ranked person present. He was also the one with the closest sense of values to the youth, so he was rather sympathetic.

“Uh...ah...old-timer, who’re...” the boy managed.

“I am Margarette’s—that is the woman who brought you here—employer,” he answered as gently as he could.

He might still be in his twenties, but Zenjirou was already a father of two, so being called “old-timer” was hardly going to insult him. He kept a smile on his face as he spoke.

“I talked to Margarette and then took your words to Priest Yan. He will be here soon, but I will be present when you speak with him. Is that acceptable?”

“Huh? But...”

The child cut himself off partway through his startled exclamation. It was hardly a surprise considering his position. He saw his information as an absolute matter of life and death, hence coming to speak with the priest he deemed the only one likely to listen. Yet here was an obvious noble—a foreign noble, at that—wanting to hear his information as well. It was natural that he would be uneasy.

Still, his exposure to the world at such a young age had already given him an understanding of how things worked beyond what his years would suggest.

“Right. Okay. If the priest says, though, will you leave?”

A simple orphan had no right of veto. However, even this fancy-looking foreigner would have to listen to a priest of the church.

“Very well. Let us call him in.”

Understanding the boy’s thoughts, Zenjirou accepted the request. Besides, he had already asked the priest for permission to be present, so he was one step ahead. However much potential the youth had, and however relatively average Zenjirou was, the more than ten years between them would not be so easily surpassed.

Before long, the priest arrived. The one-eyed mercenary was accompanying him. He was wearing fine clothes suitable for the high-class establishment, so he looked more important than the priest, who was wearing his plain robes. However, no one here would mistake their positions. The priest may have only offered a reserved smile, but the other man’s respect was clear in his bearing.

“Welcome, Priest Yan. Pardon the suddenness, but I am simply a witness. You should speak with him,” Zenjirou said, bidding the man welcome before patting the youth on the back.

The boy seemed to be spurred on by that action and stumbled forward for a few steps, clearly overcome with emotion.

“P-Priest Yan! I-It’s me. You probably don’t remember, but I’m Yan from Las Village. We met once before—”

The priest replied to the overwhelmed boy without his expression faltering. “I remember. You gave me a handful of raspberries after I finished preaching by the crooked tree.”

The boy’s face morphed into a shocked look before breaking out into a beaming grin. “That’s right! You remember?!”

“I do indeed. You left quite the impression. The details of your presence here are likely less than pleasant, but I am glad to see you safe again.” The older man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Right. I’m glad to see you again too.”

“Thank you.”

“While I am glad of the reunion, the conversation is likely to go on for some time. Perhaps we should continue after sitting?” Zenjirou urged them, prompting the group to change locales.

The best room in the establishment was not just a single room, of course, it was a suite. There was a bedroom, a living room, a parlor, and a room for attendants.

The parlor was where they moved their discussion, the two Yans sitting opposite each other across a large four-seater table. Zenjirou was sitting off to the side. He was here as a host, not a participant.

Once a maid had served each of them a cup of herbal tea, he bid them start. At that, his contribution was over. Unless things went well and truly off the rails, he would merely be listening to the conversation from then on.

The boy wasn’t used to such situations. His excitement and tension meant that he didn’t know how to start the conversation and was just frozen in place.

“If you would, then, Yan,” the priest said kindly. “You have important news?”

His soft voice seemed to prompt the boy to regroup.

“I-I do. It’s awful, the knights are going to attack the country!”

Knights were going to attack. Invade, raid—in other words, an act of war. Zenjirou felt a thrill of nerves run through him. In contrast, the priest let his gaze move to the mercenary, who seemed almost reluctantly amused. The odd, silent mood could not last forever, though.

The priest spoke reluctantly, but clearly. “Yan. It is not a rare occurrence for the knights to attack Złota Wolność.”

The “knights” in this instance were not a band of knights belonging to a country. Their official name was The North Dragon Claw Knight Order, and they were also known as the North Knights to distinguish them from other knight orders.

As the “dragon claw” in their official name implied, they had the influence of the corresponding branch of the church. They ruled over an area to the north of the commonwealth and were practically a country unto themselves. Their national religion was the Church of the Claw, and no other faiths were allowed. The Church of the Fang was no exception. Naturally, they were not particularly well-disposed towards Złota Wolność, who allowed freedom of religion. Therefore, scuffles on the border were an almost daily occurrence. It was likely to weigh heavily on those who lived near the border as well.

“It...isn’t? Then, was this all...” The boy couldn’t manage to utter the word “pointless,” and he simply slumped back in his chair.

However, the priest replied comfortingly. “No. There are men constantly patrolling the border, alert for the knights, but things can happen regardless. You were right to ask.”

Even this consolation from someone he respected as much as the priest wasn’t enough to improve the boy’s mood. “Right...but what was all this effort for? Damn it! I thought I’d finally get to strike back at them!” he exclaimed, pounding his tiny fist on the expensive table.

The teacups rattled, spilling some of the herbal tea. No one present faulted him for the action, though. The youth’s face was a rictus of anger far beyond etiquette.

“Your anger is justified,” the priest said eventually.

The knights had destroyed the boy’s own village, simply because it was too close to the holy ground. His had been the closest settlement to the area. Their country considered it outside the holy land, but the knights felt otherwise. Therefore, they had claimed that repeated notices had been ignored, and they attacked the village.

The knights were—as far as young Yan was concerned—enemies of both his family and home. They had scared him, and he had risked his life for this journey. But it had all been for nothing.

All he had accomplished was gaining a sense of powerlessness and resentment. Even that was proof of how uncommonly mentally resilient he was for his age.

The room was silent, trying to decide how to soothe him. But one single statement from him was enough to destroy the mood.

“Right. It’s okay, then. Even if they attack Pomorskie, the city’ll be ready.”

“What?” the priest asked.

“‘They’ will attack Pomorskie? Who is ‘they?’” the mercenary asked, ignoring etiquette to question the boy directly.

The child didn’t seem to realize how unexpected his statement had been. He was still lethargic, speaking about his memories.

“The knights. They said, ‘The boat is ready and the groundwork in the Sejm complete. If we can take control temporarily, the old fiefs will be able to return.’”

“Kid, I need to hear more,” the merchant said with a severe look. “Where’d you hear that?”

The boy was overwhelmed, looking towards the priest as he spoke. “By the ruins of my village. There was a big broken barrel, and I was sheltering from the cold. I heard horses and looked through a crack and saw a bunch of knights in shiny armor. I didn’t hear it all, but they definitely said that.”

The other two Yans looked wordlessly at each other.

“Priest...” the boy said.

“This could be a severe problem. We have to make preparations.”

The clergy generally didn’t involve themselves in international disputes, but this time, the attackers were the church’s own forces—their knights. It was hardly a position where a priest should intervene, but he was looked down on by both denominations due to his heretical following of both sets of teachings. In that respect, he was somewhat reluctant to see Złota Wolność fall to the claws.

While he didn’t know the specifics, Zenjirou could tell that things weren’t going well, so he broke the silence. “Priest Yan. Does that mean Pomorskie is likely to become a war zone? Can you trust his words to that extent?”

The man hesitated for a moment but realized he couldn’t remain silent. He nodded once before speaking. “Indeed. You may not be aware, but until nearly a hundred years ago, Pomorskie was ruled as an annex by the knights.”

The complicating factor was that the knights had been allowed to do so by the commonwealth’s predecessor, the Kingdom of Poznań’s king. That had been around two hundred years ago. The knights had ruled the city for over a hundred years, but the populace had rebelled and fought their way to freedom before declaring themselves an independent city.

Around twenty years later, the city had joined the commonwealth and been accepted into the Sejm. It was a touch too blatant. A hundred more years passed, but the knights still saw the control of the city as illegitimate and were constantly demanding the return of their old fief. The influence of history meant that some of the szlachta living in the city had connections with the former rulers.

Additionally, despite the religious freedoms, the Church of the Claw was still the dominant faith in the country. In the same way, there was a majority of the Sejm who followed that faith, and some of those people were close to the knights.

Once the priest had explained all of that, he glanced back at the youth. “Therefore, what Yan here is saying is rather realistic. Additionally, and meaning no disrespect, while a noble scion might be aware of such, a rural villager like him is unlikely to have the knowledge that gives such claims weight.”

Being able to tell a story that hung together so well inevitably increased its apparent legitimacy. Zenjirou understood the implication, but just in case—or perhaps out of hope would be more appropriate—questioned further.

“Then what of the possibility that the information is false? More specifically, that the knights are using him.”

“Don’t you dare! You think I’d work for them?!” The boy was unwilling to let that go and was flushed red with anger as he stood up with a clatter.

Natalio and the other guards started moving instantly, but the boy only stood, making no other movements. Zenjirou raised his hand to stop the knight and his men.

“It is fine. Yan...that will get confusing. Young Yan, then. I am making no judgments. I am simply making sure. I have no idea what kind of person you are.”

The boy scowled and grudgingly sat back down. It was an impressive level of restraint and control for a child who would have had no training in diplomacy.

With the orphan calm, the priest continued. “Sir Zenjirou, I believe there is no need for such suspicions. After all, even if he was given false information, he would have had no way to get it to the people who could act on it. While he has asked for my assistance, a boy traveling so far to speak with a priest he has met but once would normally be unthinkable. Additionally, fearing he is some spy is out of the question. After all, I am nothing more than a priest from a neighboring country. My very presence here and now is a coincidence. Spending all that effort to send a boy with such a tenuous link to me would be inefficient.”

His explanation was logical, and the current situation was indeed the result of several coincidences. The priest had to remember a boy he had met once. He then had to also be willing to listen, and furthermore abandon his neutrality and act. Logically, it was hard to believe that anyone would purposefully plan for this situation.

Understanding that, Zenjirou turned back to the boy. “I was wrong. I retract my statement.”

He wanted to add a word of apology, but his status prevented him from doing so. Although Zenjirou was mentally regretting the child’s status, the boy in question seemed satisfied with someone as highly ranked as the prince consort admitting fault.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he said with a grin, puffing his chest out, showing himself to be more than just a terror on the streets.

Regardless, his information was eminently concerning, and the priest picked up the thread again.

“This cannot just be left alone. All I can do is talk with Lord Pomorskie, though.”

Since the knights were intending to take control with a series of blitz attacks, it would be safe to assume that they were well-connected with the other nobles in the city. The priest was a foreigner, though, and had no idea who was trustworthy and who was not.

Fortunately, the marquis’s family was sent in by the king of Złota Wolność when the latter joined the commonwealth. They were a branch family and therefore highly unlikely to be involved in such schemes. If the knights had reached that far, resistance would be futile anyway, so in a certain respect, it wasn’t worth considering.

“It is somewhat awkward to leave so quickly, but I will return to the estate,” The priest announced. “Yan, I would appreciate you joining me.”

“Of course!” the boy answered, almost leaping from his chair only for a statement from the mercenary to stop him in his tracks.

“Wait a moment. I want to check something with the boy here.”

“My name’s not ‘boy,’ it’s Yan,” the youth protested.

“Apologies, but both the priest and I are also called Yan, so it will get confusing. When did you hear this information? I doubt you rode here on horseback. You must have walked, no?”

The priest looked more taken aback at the mercenary’s words than the orphan.

“Ah, yeah, I did. It was a real pain. I don’t know how many days it was. More than...um, three, at least.” His answer was decidedly lacking in confidence.

While Złota Wolność offered the highest quality of education on the continent, a young boy brought up in the remote regions was hardly likely to learn how to count.

Instead, the mercenary answered, knowledgeable about this kind of thing. “You lived near the village even after it was destroyed, correct? Which means you were about as far away as the holy forest, roughly. An adult, assuming by some miracle they avoided getting lost, would take twenty days...probably double that on average, so forty. The boy here has a keen eye, so I doubt he’s an amateur. Thirty days, at least, giving him all credit.”

The priest’s expression twisted at the number, which was far higher than he had been expecting.

“Captain, when do you expect they will arrive?” he asked.

“Well...there is not enough information to make a decent estimate. This is more of a guess than anything else, but they usually travel by land. The core group are proud of being mounted knights. They will have focused on capacity rather than speed for their ship. Their horses are huge and need absurd amounts of provisions. Still, once the ship is ready, it should take little time to move. They would go by land to the sea, then by ship. Perhaps thirty days in the worst case.”

“Understood. A day’s delay could be fatal, then.”

The mercenary’s estimate didn’t leave them much leeway in how long it would take the knights to arrive after the ship was ready. Comparing the two groups, it was practically luck that the boy’s warning had arrived first. They might be ten days behind, or three. They could even arrive that very day. In other words, every moment counted.

“Priest,” the mercenary said, “if you request an audience now, will it be granted today?”

The older man shook his head. “It will not. A priest I may be, but I am not part of the mainstream. I cannot interrupt his schedule. I could potentially get through by saying he is in danger, but as I mentioned, there are still strong links to the knights amongst the nobility.”

The gatekeeper, the secretary who took the message from the gatekeeper, or someone else in the chain could be linked to the knights and stop the information in its tracks, which would just defeat the purpose entirely, so an official audience was the best plan.

If that was his best option, it was the one he would take. But if there was a way to meet with the lord more quickly, he had to try.

“Sir Zenjirou,” he began. Zenjirou was already relatively aware of what the man would ask. “While you have already assisted me greatly, I find myself in the position of needing to ask for greater aid. Would you be willing to request an audience with Lord Pomorskie in your name?”

Unofficially recognized though he may have been, a royal guest like Zenjirou would be able to meet with the man much more quickly. While he could understand the priest’s aim, accepting that request for help would cause issues of its own.

Although he had introduced the two, he had not known what they would discuss and could therefore be considered a neutral party. Now that he was being asked to aid in informing the lord of the attack, he would be wholeheartedly supporting the country against the knights.

With his position in mind, making that decision alone was rather risky. Therefore, he offered a prepared answer instead.

“There is someone more suitable than me. I would like to summon Princess Freya of Uppasala and explain the situation to her. Is that acceptable?”

Naturally, his request was granted. While she was initially taken aback upon hearing about the situation, Freya soon nodded with a serious look.

“This is certainly something I should be involved in rather than you,” she told Zenjirou.

While Capua had no ties—positive or negative—with either nation, Freya’s homeland had no such reason to hesitate. It didn’t require any thought to understand which country the spirit-following nation would put their weight behind—Złota Wolność, which was open to all religions, or the knights who only permitted the Church of the Claw. She was in a position where she could immediately support their hosts without even asking for permission from her king. In fact, her king would not approve if she did nothing despite hearing such information.

“I will request an urgent audience with Lord Pomorskie,” she said, “with the priest and that boy accompanying me.”

“I would appreciate Captain Yan being present as well. He is better suited to discuss things from a military viewpoint than I am.”

“Very well. I shall say as much. Pardon my hurry, but I shall do so now.”

“We would appreciate it.”

“Thank you!” the boy added hurriedly after the priest.

The silver-haired princess offered a smile and word of acknowledgment before letting her gaze shift to Zenjirou. “Sir Zenjirou, I intend to head directly there without sending a messenger to convey the urgency of the matter. What about you?”

He offered a slight shrug. “I will stay here. I can hardly accompany you, after all. I would like to speak to the vice so that we have our footing should the worst happen.”

Freya offered him a small nod. “Very well. You can tell the sailors you have my permission.”

“Thank you, Princess Freya.”

The “vice” in question was, of course, Vice-Captain Magnus of the Glasir’s Leaf. For Uppasala, which was on the same continent, this incident was not something they could avoid involvement in. For Capua on the Southern Continent, however, it was essentially none of their concern.

If the worst happened and Pomorskie fell to the flames of war, escaping before he was involved was more important than victory. Therefore Zenjirou wanted the Glasir’s Leaf ready to go if needed. They would need to make up for cutting the sailors’ leave short.

With the conversation over, the princess excused herself. Zenjirou turned to the priest with a sudden question.

“Apologies for the bluntness, but could you not have done the same? I had heard that the church was exceptionally well respected on the Northern Continent.”

The question was as blunt and rude as he said, but the priest just offered a rueful smile as he answered.

“That is certainly true. No matter their origin, a person is granted respect with a position in the church. However, I am in a somewhat unique position and am often looked down on. The lord of the town is not one to behave so, however.”

“I assume this is due to not following either set of teachings?” Zenjirou asked. It was the first thing he could think of. The heretical nature of the priest’s perspective made it logical that he might be shunned even considering his position. However, his answer was not quite what Zenjirou expected.

“Well, that is certainly part of it. In my case, though, it is my lack of mana that results in many looking down on me.”

“Utterly foolish. Mana, or the lack thereof, has no bearing on a person,” the mercenary said scornfully.

Finally, Zenjirou understood the odd feeling from when they had first met. There was no mana surrounding the man whatsoever. There were people who could not cast even the smallest spells, so unless one paid close attention, their mana was nigh unnoticeable. Thus, Zenjirou had simply assumed the priest was one of those people.

“You have no mana? At all?”

“Indeed, since my birth.”

It went without saying that those without mana could not use magic. While Zenjirou had not truly thought about it, the soul of language was also a type of magic.

Unable to hide his confusion, he spoke in Japanese to the man. “I am not speaking a language of the Northern Continent, am I?”

“You are not. Indeed, it is not a language of the Southern Continent either. Due to my circumstances, I have learned several languages, but the one you speak has nothing in common with any of them.”

Zenjirou was overwhelmed as the man’s already narrow eyes drifted farther shut. He could only respect the drive that allowed him to learn several languages thanks to his “condition.” However, that did not explain why the two of them were able to communicate.

Seeming to understand that, the priest put his hand on an object hanging inside his robes on his chest. “Far from the norm I may be, but I am a priest of the church,” he said with a soft smile.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

About an hour had passed. Freya and Skaji had pushed aside the bewildered butler and half-forced a meeting with the marquis. At first, he had been at a loss, but as the princess explained the orphan’s claims, his face grew paler.

“Impossible! But the logic is there, and it is not a story a youth from the borderlands could falsify.”

The marquis was not one of the foremost nobles in the country for nothing. He quickly recovered from the shock and immediately set about considering the situation.

“My thanks for such valuable information. Treating it carelessly would be a risk.”

“Not at all. The state of Pomorskie is of concern to me as well,” Freya replied.

“Hearing such statements makes me believe my country’s policies are right,” he said.

In fact, if it wasn’t for Złota Wolność’s public support of religious freedom, Freya and Zenjirou would have let the two countries fight it out and departed immediately. It was little exaggeration to say that the nation’s policy was what had saved the town.

“This is the most I can do. Once our preparations are complete, the Glasir’s Leaf will be leaving. I wish you the best.”

Considering Uppasala’s position, Złota Wolność holding onto the port was far preferable to the knights controlling it. However, the first princess could not publicly fight against the knights without her kingdom’s permission.

“Very well. However, the port may be closed for our defense. If your departure is too late, please be aware that you may not be granted permission to leave.”

“Understood. I shall take my leave. If you require further details, I recommend summoning Priest Yan.”

“Is the courageous youth who brought this news with him as well?”

“He is.”

“I shall summon them soon. My thanks for the information.”

“I wish you the greatest of luck,” the princess said before leaving.

The lord remained on the sofa for a few moments, taking several deep breaths before opening his eyes and calling out, “This is an emergency! Send people to the Ancient Arbor. Bring Priest Yan and his companions here. Do not question their status and guide them here with all consideration. Understood?”

“Of course, sir,” a butler replied briskly.

The lord nodded in satisfaction but soon had more to add. “Send news to the capital. Pomorskie may need to seal its gates and port and hold the line. Should that happen, His Majesty needs to hold an emergency meeting of the Sejm and provide reinforcements.”

“I shall see to it at once,” the other man said before hurrying off to carry out his liege’s orders.