PROLOGUE

Faith is a sort of promise.

And conversely, promises are a kind of faith.

Even if they are never fulfilled, never reflected upon, those who possess either simply believe or hold fast.

To send another far away, to put them in harm’s way, is a similar thing.

That is how legends are born and become the stuff of bard songs.

That is why anyone can continue forging ahead, enduring their exhaustion to push forward. It is those repeated acts of perseverance that carry them to their destination.

Some may consider this odd or wonder why anyone would put themselves in such a situation.

But that is what a promise is.

And that is why they must be fulfilled.

“This way.”

A hesitant merchant led him through the halls.

Perhaps he was troubled by the man’s dirty appearance, out of place in the posh interior, or perhaps he wished he would at least wash his feet.

The man offered brief thanks, steadied his breathing, and placed his hand on the door.

The stately doors were bulky and seemed all the heavier for one who had descended the treacherous mountains with scarcely any rest.

He pushed open the wooden door with his shoulder, as though this was the final trial in his journey.

What greeted him was a dreary room.

Though it contained all the furnishings necessary for a person to live in this room, the metal bars fitted over the open windows showed this was not a place of quiet repose.

Sitting in a chair in the center of the room was a girl.

There was surprise in her eyes when she looked at him, but that quickly turned into joy.

The visitor willed his exhausted legs to move once more, taking the last couple steps to stand before her.

Her lithe hands rested neatly on her lap only because heavy shackles that looked wrong around her thin wrists bound her in place.

Before he spoke a word he dropped to his knees and undid her bindings.

The girl said nothing, only watching on in silence.

When she was finally freed from her shackles, he placed his hands over her faintly reddened wrists.

“I came for you, as promised.”

Because faith was like a promise, and promises were like faith.

The girl gave a small nod and said, “I know. Brother…”

She broke into a smile like spring sunlight as she buried herself in his chest.

The imprisoned girl clung to him, as though replacing all the unease and loneliness she had endured until this very moment.

The man draped his arms around her thin frame and breathed a sigh of relief.

He had fulfilled his promise, like in one of the grand tales sung by the bards.

Or perhaps…like he was following the events of a script.

“…Are you satisfied?” he asked the girl in his arms, but she ignored him.

In fact, she stomped on his foot, reprimanding him for speaking when he should not have.

He gathered that she had put on the shackles herself.

“Good grief…”

He did not know how many times he had murmured that phrase.

As he kept his arms around her in a perfunctory manner, she urged him to hold her tighter.

He believed the imprisoned princesses bards sang of were not this brazen.

“Myuri.”

He said her name with cold anger, and the rambunctious girl lifted her head only to bare her canines at him.

CHAPTER ONE

The seabirds cried loudly overhead as they drifted lazily on the wind to circle the boat.

It was a nice day, so Col emerged onto the deck to bask in the wind and also stave off his seasickness.

He thought he could organize his thoughts on what was to come as he gazed out over the vast waters, but that looked increasingly unlikely.

That was because the girl who refused to leave his side felt as hot as the sun.

“And then? What happened after you took the fortune-teller to the king?”

Myuri sat cross-legged at his feet, hunched over as she wrote.

Col thought about how he had to tie her to a chair when he was teaching her how to read and realized that in a certain light, this might be considered an improvement.

However, what she was writing was not a delicate poem, nor was it a blessed passage from the scripture—it was tale of adventure inspired by fact and fiction, penned by her own hand.

Col sighed discreetly, then spoke of what happened while he was away from her.

“Regardless of the reason, Miss Amaretto is still someone who ran away from her patron. There was the possibility she could have been hung, so I asked for help from Miss Ilenia and Captain Vadan to do everything we could to prepare before we sent her to Prince-Elector Duran.”

Myuri scratched at her chin with her quill, and after a moment of thought, she wrote that down.

Col was recounting the conclusion of the great uproar surrounding the disappearance of the astronomer, Amaretto.

Myuri did not know what had unfolded after they brought Amaretto back, since she remained alone at the merchant company house in Ahberg.

And there was one very particular reason why Myuri wanted to know all the details of his trip.

“At least someone’s getting the princess treatment…,” she murmured, loud enough for him to hear, and then sharply stared up at him.

The reason Myuri had stayed behind at the company house was because she was technically a hostage. She had hated it, of course, but no one else could have taken the role, so Col had carefully framed the situation.

He ultimately told her this was the perfect chance for her to experience what it felt like to be the classic damsel in distress.

Myuri was a dreamer and his honeyed words had worked wonders on her.

Perhaps too well. When he had gone to get her, she had placed herself in handcuffs, dressed a scene in a room where debtors to the company were typically held, and awaited his arrival.

The master of the house later told Col that under no circumstances was she usually in any kind of restraints, and she typically slept in one of their regular guest rooms. There was no reason to doubt him.

And though he had worked as hard as he could to make her dreams come true, the wolf princess’s expectations were much too high for Col.

And so Myuri was unsatisfied with playing the part of the princess being saved from her castle imprisonment, and it had left her in a bad mood ever since. She whined and made selfish demands about everything. Now, as she stared up at him, he sighed, broke the hardtack in his hand in half, and handed a piece to her.

The sharp-eyed seabirds approached them, but Myuri drove them away with a silent command, then took the piece from Col’s hand with her teeth.

With a little shake of his head Col turned to look back at the sea and recalled what happened next in Wobern.

“I told the prince-elector plainly and honestly that Miss Amaretto could not predict the eclipse, that what she was researching was something different entirely. I told him he would not be able to restore his dignity as prince-elector by forecasting the eclipse.”

Myuri, chewing on her hardtack with loud, audible crunches, paused her writing.

“The forecast was the king’s last lifeline, right?” she asked.

“Yes. And so I was fully prepared for him to reject what I told him or fly into a rage.”

Those drowning often grasped at straws. Prince-Elector Duran was resting his final hopes on hearsay that grasped not at the clouds, but the moon…or so Col thought.

That was why he asked Ilenia and Vadan—both nonhumans—to stay with him, just in case.

He was worried Prince-Elector Duran would reject reality and lock Amaretto away in the tower again.

That would have been the preferable outcome—there was also the chance the prince-elector would see Col as a traitor.

Perhaps he would have insisted the Twilight Cardinal had a change of heart as he was pursuing Amaretto and attempted to take the date of the eclipse for himself, becoming a puppet for the Church or the merchants in Ahberg in the process.

However—

“I was soon made to realize I’d been underestimating the prince-elector.”

Myuri swallowed her hardtack and turned her red eyes to Col.

This ship was being piloted by Vadan’s crew; Myuri did not hide her wolf ears, and let the downy hair on them sway in the wind.

“The prince-elector did not get angry with me, nor did he regard me with suspicion. He only sighed very, very deeply.”

Myuri’s childish, curious eyes darted to the sky.

Her imagination could send her soaring through the clouds—she spoke as though she had been present for this particular story beat.

“He was relieved, then.”

She had always been astute.

With a defeated smile, Col continued.

“Exactly. The prince-elector relaxed to the point I thought he might fall out of his chair. The look on his face was cheerful…and almost kind.”

“He probably didn’t want to believe in the prophecy. But he was compelled to look into it. He had no choice but to believe in it. He’s…a king, after all.”

The present head of House Duran was not only born sickly, but due to a riding accident, he would never ride into battle. In a land ruled by the mercenary king who was revered for his prowess in battle, a leg injury like that was very detrimental.

A ruler so disadvantaged had no choice but to work hard, govern justly, and be resourceful.

But considering that he ruled over a land where merchants took up arms and made their living as mercenaries in the winter months, his reliance on resourcefulness was often taken as cowardice.

In any case, this caused a vicious cycle where people throughout his land began harboring dissatisfaction for the prince-elector, undermining his authority.

When Col and his party visited for the first time, Duran’s position as the prince-elector was already unstable, and he had pinned all his hopes on a prophesized eclipse to restore his reputation. He did this because he had no choice.

Because he was a ruler.

And very rarely did vain struggles bear fruit.

But just as Myuri was about to write again, what Col said next stopped her.

“It’s as you say. Prince-Elector Duran was the descendant of the great mercenary king.”

“………”

She might have taken it as sarcasm.

Myuri looked at him reproachfully, reprimanding him for kicking someone while he was down; Col simply shook his head.

“Do you know what he said to me?”

“I need not hold back anymore.”

Col was not confident he had perfectly imitated the way the prince-elector spoke in that moment, but Myuri’s eyes grew round and the fur on her tail stood on end.

“He used his sword as a cane to push himself to his feet.”

“In the end, this is the only way I can protect my title.”

Duran was not a courageous general who charged across battlefields, but the sort of person who shone as a resourceful general.

His misfortune was that he had been born in a country founded by a mercenary king.

But he correctly understood his fate.

Every king must face his destiny, sword at his hip.

“It was…it was so cool.”

Not once in Col’s life had he ever picked a fight. And while everyone else his age in the village of his birth swung sticks around while playing at being heroes, he learned his letters, something no one else showed much interest in.

Even so, Col had been stirred by the sight of Duran—gallant enough to be worthy of inheriting the name of mercenary king.

He realized he had a bit of a smug look on his face as he spoke of the prince-elector, and he prayed for forgiveness for his arrogance.

Myuri seemed like she was about to push words out of her slack-jawed mouth, but she ultimately closed it and swallowed.

Then, with a heated sigh, she began to write with such vigor that Col could hear the quill scratching the paper.

He smiled faintly at how absorbed she was and turned his attention back to the sea.

He could still recall the sight of the prince-elector making up his mind so clearly, but taking up the sword to protect one’s authority was truly the last option. It was nothing more than a destructive choice by someone who knew they would lose it all anyway.

The prince-elector had few allies. And if there were other branch houses that had proper claims to his seat, then Duran would quickly be deposed if a revolt broke out.

Even if one of the other six prince-electors offered him support, Wobern sat atop a steep mountain range. They would not get there in time to save him from his fate.

The prince-elector’s decisiveness was admirable, but a sword makes no connections.

A sword cannot bring people together—it only severs them from one another.

“And then?” Myuri asked loudly as her quill continued dashing across the page.

Her eyes overflowed with expectation as she looked up at him.

Myuri loved thrilling tales of adventure. Even Col could tell exactly what she was looking at.

She was looking at him.

One who seemed unreliable, whose steps were unsteady, but who was stubborn enough to not simply yield to others—the Twilight Cardinal.

“There are only seven prince-electors, and we already have one on our side. So to add another to our cause would be a major victory. That is why we traveled all the way to Wobern, a city deep in the mountains, and ran around like headless chickens looking for a missing astronomer,” he said a bit flippantly, which made Myuri grin. “All our efforts would be for naught if something happened to the prince-elector before he can repay his debt to us for bringing Miss Amaretto back. And if civil strife were to break out over the prince-elector’s position, then the rest of the empire would grow even more chaotic. The other prince-electors would set aside the fight with the Church, and no one would have time to think about our cause. And so I asked the prince-elector—would he mind if we were to follow in his footsteps and put up a bit of a vain resistance ourselves?”

Myuri scratched at her chin again with the feather on her quill and wrote the phrase down on her paper.

“There’s another way of saying ‘vain resistance,’ right?”

“The courage of despair.”

Myuri grinned, whipped out her legs, and then leaped to her feet.

She was deft enough to write while standing. After donning a weary smile, Col continued.

“I explained to the prince-elector that Miss Amaretto was looking into the legend of the Moon-Hunting Bear where it halted the advance of the ancient imperial army when the soldiers attempted to enter the mountain range from the south, and how that suggested there was once a shortcut to the south.”

Though Wobern and the south seemed close on the map, they were, in fact, very removed from each other.

Steep mountains blocked the way, so people and goods from the warm and prosperous south were forced to take a big detour to the west, where the roads were narrow and treacherous at times.

But if there were a road somewhere big enough to accommodate an army, then many more riches would find their way to the north.

“Prince-Elector Duran recognized the advantages to the plan immediately.”

It was a far-fetched plan, but of a different sort than the eclipse prediction.

“Unlike the questionable prophecy, a plan to cut open a new road would guarantee the prince-elector’s authority and life. Because—”

“It’s a king’s job to show everyone hope.”

Col was shocked by how sharp Myuri was; Myuri was not smug, as she usually was, but instead smiled shyly and with joy.

“It’s easy to tell. Because that’s what you do.”

“………”

Col could not stop his eyes from darting away. That unexpected sentiment made him blush.

Myuri giggled, and then wore a smug look, then began to run her quill over the page again.

“You say you’ll cut down the trees, move the rocks, and then tell everyone they’ll reach the promised land, right? That’s what you say to the people the Church has been hurting, and that’s what the king says to the people who can’t leave because of the steep mountains. That’s the only real difference between you two, right?”

“Yes…”

Col almost wondered if her usual childlike demeanor was just an act.

No—Myuri was still growing. It was much like how he would think summer had finally arrived, only to realize it was still the fickle season of spring when thick mists suddenly rolled in.

He cleared his throat and got back to business.

“Anyway, Prince-Elector Duran agreed to the plan. And if a road were to indeed connect Wobern and the south, then we would benefit enormously as well.”

“You’d be able to go south straight from the mountains, right?”

“Yes. I have also heard that on clear days, the Wobern mountain range is visible from the Holy See. We will sit there, along with the one who inherits the name of the mercenary king.”

This was not simply a matter of building a road, allowing the movement of wealth and people, and creating an obligation of gratitude from Prince-Elector Duran.

Opening up a road would be a powerful turning point in the fight against the Church.

The clergy in the south had lived in peace thus far. But if a hole were to be opened in the mountains that had previously walled off the north, then a prevailing cold wind would quickly cause them to quail.

“But there’s a ton of problems with that, aren’t there?”

Myuri had already closed the cover of her freshly penned tale and stuck her quill into her leather belt.

Because a story was not something to take nibbles from—it was something to dig into.

“There are. Though the company at Ahberg has agreed to the plan, they still are a part of the Ruvik Alliance, which means we cannot let our guards down. Additionally, finding a lost road and opening it up again will not be easy. Gathering a workforce and provisioning them will cost a fortune. The prince-elector’s current finances are not capable of funding this. Even if we did manage to fund the project, sending too many of the prince-elector’s people out of the city would only weaken his standing. If we take his unstable position into consideration, then that would likely invite open rebellion.”

Myuri huffed and nodded in understanding, and her tail, which had already been swishing from right to left, began to sway even harder.

“Also, Miss Amaretto has a good idea where to find the moon the Moon-Hunting Bear brought down, but that comes with a problem of its own.”

There was a very detailed map at the Duran palace; the sort only landowning nobles could get their hands on.

After hearing Amaretto’s explanation, the descendant of the mercenary king pointed to the map and said—

“He said that is a land that’s been long untended, and serves as a home to those who cannot live in human society.”

Myuri’s bangs swayed in the sudden gust of wind.

The sails on the ship creaked, and the seabirds did not fight the wind. They simply drifted higher into the sky.

As Col grabbed the railing, withstanding the rocking of the ship, their destination island came faintly into view in the distance.

“Is it our turn?”

The red of Myuri’s eyes glinted with her canines.

The power of a spirit could not be made public.

But what if they were dealing with someone who was the same?

It was heartening to know he could call on Myuri and Ilenia for help if it was needed, but the circumstances were a bit different this time.

“No. There are people in every society who avoid greater civilization.”

“…?”

Nyohhira was a hot-spring village, filled with the life of song and warm, inviting waters.

Born and raised in such a place, it was likely difficult for Myuri to imagine worlds unlike that.

Perhaps it was Col’s overprotective wish for her to grow up without ever peering into the dark parts of the world.

On second thought—Myuri probably handled it better than he first assumed.

After carefully choosing his words, Col said, “There are many people who have been chased from their towns and villages for all sorts of reasons. Some have committed crimes, some lost fights. Some are deemed as plague bringers, and sometimes entire villages are forced to abandon their homes because disaster deprived them of the ability to make a living there.”

On top of that, no town or village would readily accept unidentified drifters.

Those with nowhere to go kept out of sight and gathered under the forest’s thick canopy, away from even God’s watchful eye.

“Miss Amaretto pointed out a deep, deep forest that has not been regularly traveled to for many years. Not only that, but it sits on the fringes of Prince-Elector Duran’s territory and is apparently why his rights relations with neighboring lords are so unclear. This is the sort of place where the desperate and those who have nowhere else to go gather.”

People like that occasionally appeared in the Nyohhira mountains, but considering how deep the snow was, it was not an easy place to survive the winter. Most vanished beneath the fallen leaves of the forest and never became a problem.

“Forests where those people run rampant would be very difficult to explore, and establishing a road there would be even more difficult. In a worst-case scenario, it might even cause a conflict big enough to be considered a war.”

Forest bandits were a constant concern for lords who owned large swathes of land. That concern extended to poor, vagrant villagers as well, who could not be sent away, no matter how much their lords may have wanted to.

Col then reflected on how badly he wished Myuri did not know the darker parts of the world.

After a moment of thought, she said, “I think it’ll be okay.”

“What?”

As he wondered what proof she had, she opened her adventure book again.

“These people live in the forest out of sight, right?” She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

“The Great Green Hood!”

Her wolf ears piqued triumphantly.

“He’s a good-hearted bandit who lives in the forest! He steals money from evil rich people and gives it to the poor!” Her expression was proud, expecting his praise for her discovery, and her eyes shone in earnest.

Despite how surprisingly sharp she was when Col was telling her about Prince-Elector Duran, Myuri was, at the end of the day, a child.

“So it’ll be fine. They value justice and they’re compassionate! And their arrows fly through the trees, and they can hit even a little rabbit in the eye as it’s running away. I think the mercenary king’s army would have a tough time beating them!”

The Great Green Hood was a famous tale of a noble bandit, one that every child knew.

Col gave a deep sigh, then placed a hand on Myuri’s head.

“That is a story. This is a serious situation.”

“And you don’t understand anything, Brother!”

Myuri swatted Col’s hand away, then reached out toward the water.

“Because it sounds just like that island, right?”

“………”

The reason people were taken in by swindlers was because there was always a drop of truth in their lies.

In the same vein, the reason Myuri never stopped daydreaming was because there was always a drop of reality in her fantasies.

“That is the—”

Myuri cut Col off.

“When I had to be separated from you and was crying alone in my room because I missed you so much, the people at the company told me so many stories. They told me there was a great pirate with a red beard who loved his booze and freedom, and he’s the one who seized that island from the landlord! He braved the rough seas, and in the end, he offered the island to the merchants!”

Col had learned Myuri had been having a grand old time while she was being held captive in Ahberg. She had gotten close with the merchants, learned how to use an abacus, helped load cargo at sea, and other exciting things.

Even if it was true that she missed him, it was a definite lie that she had spent the entire time crying.

Col turned away from the whining wolf pup and heaved a deep sigh.

If there was a drop of truth in the tall tales those merchants told Myuri, it would only mean trouble. The ship they were presently on was charting a course to one particular island.

It was unclear as to who governed the island, and it was presently a stronghold for merchants who engaged in shady transactions.

It was not long ago that the escaped astronomer had concealed herself there.

“If a great pirate was on that island, then there has to be a great bandit in the forest, right? You usually only know about really small parts of the world, Brother!”

He could not deny that, and he had occasionally begun to wonder if Myuri was already better informed than he was. Her natural sociability and sharp wit allowed her to become fast friends with virtually anyone, wherever she went, and she absorbed all sorts of things very quickly.

And so Col conceded the point, gently pushed back her approaching hands, and had no other real option but to say, “The ghost ship did exist, after all…”

They were, in fact, riding on it at that very moment.

Mice deftly scurried across the deck and atop the railing.

They were not offensive creatures targeting cargo, but sailors who were keeping the ship running.

“Exactly. And this is why you’re useless!”

The reproach in her eyes as she huffed at him likely came from the anger at being left behind at the company house as a hostage.

The ship sailed smoothly in the calm blue.

Ahead was Cobb Island.

An island ruled by shady merchants.

Cobb Island was a small island that lay between the Kingdom of Winfiel and the mainland.

Though it was once considered Winfiel territory, the growing ambiguity of its control led to its de facto governance by merchants and was now a hotbed for smuggling.

That was why the mysterious astronomer hid there, and why no one paid particular mind to any suspicious-looking ships of unknown origin docked at the harbor.

There was no island better suited for secret discussions.

“There you are, Twilight Cardinal.”

Just as Col stepped onto the island, he immediately boarded a different ship.

Parchment lay spread out over a long table set on the deck.

Gathered around the table were those who seemed to be of noble status alongside quirky-looking merchants—most likely guests invited to act as advisors during the upcoming talks.

There was one individual who stood out among the rest who offered Col a friendly smile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Heir Hyland.”

“I almost couldn’t contain myself, since I was so excited to see you again,” Hyland said, then turned her attention to Myuri, who stood beside him, dressed in her saint outfit.

“Greetings, Saint Myuri.”

“I am pleased to find you in good spirits, Heir Hyland.”

Myuri gave a little curtsy and smoothly offered her greetings.

She was a wild child—no matter how hard Col tried to instill manners in her, she would simply stare at him as a frog would, and his instruction would go in one ear and out the other—yet she took to courtly etiquette with incredible enthusiasm. Perhaps because there were many theatrical elements to it, so she simply treated it as just another game.

She always seemed to be having fun when she donned her vestments.

“The saint is beautiful today, as she always is, but…what’s that?”

There was a fable of a fox who, after achieving intelligence, acted like a human in the forest to deceive travelers.

It was the fox’s tail, peeking out under the hem of its long robe, that gave it away; in the case of the Saint of the Sun, what revealed her true form was the way she so vigorously rolled up her sleeves. No proper holy woman would ever roll up her sleeves like that.

Myuri flared her nostrils proudly at Hyland’s question and struck the end of the harpoon in her hand, which was taller than she was, against the floor.

“I was thinking about grabbing us some food while you guys have your meeting.”

Col had already given up on scolding her. All he could do was pray she did not fall ill from the cold waters of the sea.

Hyland adored Myuri and so she was naturally delighted by the wolf girl’s proposal.

“I look forward to seeing that!” the noble exclaimed before turning to the meeting attendees. “Let’s finish our business so we can enjoy our meal.”

The reason Col was meeting Hyland here was, of course, not to eat Myuri’s catch of the day.

It was to address the commotion surrounding Amaretto the astronomer and the outrageous plan that stemmed from it.

After Hyland watched Myuri leave for the coast, harpoon in hand, she turned her smile to Col.

“Your letter genuinely shocked me. What you said about the eclipse prophecy, yes, but also your attempt to join forces with the Ruvik Alliance to end the fighting over the prophecy. I imagine you’ll be telling me you grabbed the hem of God’s robes in your next letter!”

When her smile took on a mischievous hue, Col could not help but double over in regret.

“I apologize for all the trouble I always cause you.”

It was a genuine sentiment, but Hyland’s smile twisted faintly in distress.

“It’s not a problem. You’ve indebted Prince-Elector Duran in the mountain city of Wobern hot on the heels of your deeds in Estatt. Moreover, you’ve laid the groundwork for us to strike a deal with part of the troublesome Ruvik Alliance. I’m not sure what to call those things besides a triumph. When I was speaking with the priests in town after town on the mainland, the only conclusions I ever reached were truly miserable ones.”

She spoke of the time when Col had just left Nyohhira. Hyland had been traveling across the mainland to try and persuade likeminded priests to join their cause against the Church, but her efforts were fruitless, and she had been terribly upset by it.

“It truly made me believe that meeting you in this fight against the Church can be nothing less than God’s guiding hand. He is showing us that this fight is just.”

She said this with yet another twinkle of mischief. But once she was done smiling, she noticed just how much Col had shrunk in response to her excessive praise.

She looked away, almost like she was loosening the reins on him, and gestured to the parchment spread over the table on the ship’s deck.

“Luckily, I can help you. You wanted me to review your plan?”

“Uh, yes. I think I’ve made quite a few assumptions on my own.”

Hyland smiled again, this time with a light chuckle, and took a piece of parchment in her hand.

“First, regarding the possibility of betrayal from the Ahberg merchants, I don’t think you have to worry too much about that. In short, the Alliance’s true state of affairs is all over the place.”

“What does that mean?”

Hyland glanced at a quirky-looking merchant standing behind her in waiting.

He was well dressed and most certainly a skilled merchant from the kingdom.

He took a step forward.

“It is a true pleasure to meet you, Twilight Cardinal.”

It sounded as though his greeting to Col was going to go on for much longer, so Hyland, in her consideration, urged him to cut to the chase.

“The Ruvik Alliance is a very large organization, considering their companies dot the map in the north and in the south alike. There are differences among all the member companies, of course, but every region specializes in a different business. For example, I believe your and Heir Hyland’s influence has been causing them a bit of trouble, considering their luxury goods have not been selling as well as of late, but there are degrees to this problem.”

“Member companies in the north are still making quite a lot from herring and cod caught in the cold seas you once braved,” Hyland added.

Memories of a whale spirit and his own resignation to death as he sank into the sea in the night came flooding back to Col.

“The ones who are paying most heavily for your actions,” the merchant continued, “are the ones in the south.”

“Which means that alliance companies from the north are still just talking big about opposing us,” Hyland added. “But the ones in the south are the ones whose coin purses are truly suffering, so…they are the ones willing to do more than just talk.”

“I see…,” Col murmured.

Hyland picked out a singular sheet of paper from among the parchments and placed a finger on it.

“Your letter mentioned the cruel trade practices the Ahberg merchants have been leveling on Wobern. I think this is the root cause.”

Ahberg was a port city and served as the terminus for the river that flowed from Wobern.

That meant Wobern had to rely on Ahberg for many of their imports. Whenever they wanted to sell something, their prices were driven down; whenever they wanted to buy something, the prices became astronomical.

This was causing the people of Wobern to struggle, and since Prince-Elector Duran could not deal any sort of decisive blow to Ahberg, he was losing the trust of the public.

“They are acting so cruelly because they have to make up for the profits they’re losing.”

What a selfish reason, Col thought.

But it must have shown on his face, because Hyland offered him a small, gentle smile and said, “It is selfish, but they have people in their employ, too. There are many mouths they have to feed and they cannot simply forsake them.”

The reality of the situation struck him when she pointed that out to him.

Hyland had lands of her own she was responsible for, so she understood what sort of position the Ahberg merchants were in.

“But that also means they will consider cooperating with us. Opening a road from Wobern to the south would bring all sorts of new trade to this entire region.”

Hyland glanced at the merchant, who nodded deeply.

It seemed he had carefully examined what sort of commercial gains there would be once the road opened.

“The problem is,” Hyland continued, “opening the road is going to take time, and we still don’t know for certain if it’s feasible. That means we don’t know if the Ahberg merchants are going to change their minds in the meantime…That was your concern, wasn’t it?”

Col had written about that in his letter.

What made him uncomfortable was that his concerns made him get ahead of himself and make a promise to the Ahberg merchants.

“Your idea of prioritizing the sale of our kingdom’s wool to Ahberg to keep the fickle merchants interested until the road is completed isn’t a bad one.”

Col was not sure if she was simply saying that to make him feel better.

But at the very least, she gave him a smile.

“Our wool shines gold, you know. It can hold the greedy merchants’ attention, and lucrative goods like metal and timber end up in Ahberg from Wobern. It’s not a bad deal for the kingdom.”

The merchants standing behind her reverently nodded.

“My worries lie in Wobern,” Hyland continued. “Will Prince-Elector Duran be able to safeguard his position?”

Prince-Elector Duran was clearly losing the favor of the people.

Though the Ahberg merchants, who agreed to work with Col as a result of this incident, had promised to loosen their grip on Wobern, a sudden change in policy would stand out like a sore thumb. They were still members of the Ruvik Alliance, ostensibly the Twilight Cardinal’s enemies, so they needed to act hostile to Wobern, where the Twilight Cardinal had taken up residence.

Under these circumstances, if Prince-Elector Duran began to talk big about the plan to open a road, there was a chance the people of Wobern themselves would refuse to believe him. They had a general idea of how much wealth the prince-elector commanded, and the greatest danger was the anticipation of heavy taxes that would be levied on the common people if the plan was to go forward.

Instead of gaining favor, they would fan the flames of rebellion.

And that was why the prince-elector needed a solid foundation.

Not the flowery words this Twilight so-and-so spewed. No, he needed real, tangible things.

And so Col had an idea.

Instead of a would-be-priest with lofty ideals, he put himself in the shoes of the very talented merchant who took him under his wing a long time ago.

“What do you think about my proposal for the printing of the scripture?”

That very proposal was detailed on the parchment Hyland was looking at.

It was a plan they could instantly weaponize with the combination of the Twilight Cardinal’s name and the few resources the prince-elector had at hand.

“Wobern has the craftspeople to carve the letter forms, the casters to make molds of the forms, and the metal that serves as the base material. It’s also rich in lumber and free-flowing water that makes it the perfect place to manufacture the paper. On top of that, the scripture is a product that can be transported easily, so they do not need to rely on the boats from Ahberg for that.”

“So you want to build a new scripture printing workshop in Wobern,” Hyland said.

Col nodded. “If we were to build a workshop, then that would provide new jobs to the people of Wobern, and it would bring new income to the prince-elector and his people. At the same time, it could serve as our base while we broaden our activities on the mainland.”

When Col was finished, Hyland exhaled softly.

“Your strength is a kind of selflessness.”

“Um…Hmm?”

He asked only because he thought he was going to be reprimanded for trying to make money from printing the scripture.

As he sat, baffled by the unexpected comment, Hyland waved her hands in front of her face with a strained smile.

“No, sorry. I wasn’t thinking about getting rich from the printing workshop, either. But still, after securing workers, helping with the initial establishment, and seeing the workshop start to take shape, reading your letter made me realize I was faintly possessive over the workshop. Because at some point, I started thinking about the workshop as ours.”

“That’s…”

Normal, is what Col was going to say, but decided not to when Hyland lifted her gaze from the parchment.

“Jean the craftsman says he’ll go anywhere, so long as he can spread his technology and knowledge. Inquisitors are unlikely to casually wander into Wobern, so it shouldn’t be problem for him in terms of safety, either.”

Wobern was surrounded by mountains, a natural fortress with few roads leading in or out.

“Plus, everyone I asked in the kingdom told me the area around Wobern is very faithful. They should be compatible with our—no, the Twilight Cardinal’s teachings. The people would be proud if their city became a great base for printing the scripture. That goes for the prince-elector, too, who was the one who invited you to Wobern in the first place. He would be doubly indebted to you,” she said with a twinkle of mischief.

“We have decided to go ahead with the plan you proposed in your letter.”

The plan was both grand and ridiculous, chasing legends from a bygone era to reopen a long-lost road.

Though it had been concocted to quiet the commotion surrounding the tall tale of the eclipse forecast, Col was relieved to see it start to take shape.

It was then that Hyland’s expression clouded faintly.

“But I don’t know if we can say there are no problems with this…”

Col held his breath; he had never seen Hyland look so somber before.

He knew from the beginning it was an outrageous plan, but perhaps there was something he had overlooked.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Hyland let the words fall from her mouth along with the breath she had been holding.

“This plan would involve secret contracts and all sorts of goods crossing the strait between the mainland and the kingdom. We need to keep an eye on everything and everyone to make sure no party is prioritizing their interests over everyone else’s. Because most importantly, there’s a chance the merchants from Ahberg might betray us, even if it is a small chance. We should not put our faith in them unconditionally. Is there a trustworthy individual who we can confide in to handle this difficult problem?”

“………”

How could anyone live off bread drawn on paper?

Someone had to grind the flour, knead the dough, and bake it.

Only those in unique positions could realize such a large-scale plan that spanned a whole continent and keep everyone in line with a glare alone.

“I can tell Miss Eve myself…,” Col said.

Eve was presently in Estatt, cleaning up what remained of the impostor situation.

He would be asking her to take on an even bigger job before those embers were cool. For a moment, he silently considered asking Ilenia to put a good word in for him.

But then he noticed Hyland was staring at him.

There was something on her face, and he could not determine if it was a faint smile or exasperation, colored by something akin to resignation.

“You are in a position where you can immediately think of an appropriate person and ask for their assistance. Terrifying.”

At any time before this, Col would have drawn up his shoulders and shrunk into himself, but he had since learned, somewhat, how to react.

“I am not sure if this will make much sense,” he began with a caveat. “But I think of the Twilight Cardinal as this…person who stands nearby, and all I do is look to him for guidance. He scares me, too.”

He glanced to the side, as though someone was there.

In his mind, Col was simply acting as a proxy for the Twilight Cardinal.

He would crumble if he did not think of it that way.

“Hee-hee. That’s the truth. That probably holds true for most people in this world,” Hyland mused.

Myuri had said the reason Prince-Elector Duran had been so attached to the eclipse forecast was because he was a ruler.

Because rulers had to be.

Was Hyland the same? Col privately considered this question, but he realized how rude it was and shook his head to drive away the thought.

“Also, there is the other matter that you informed me of afterward.”

Col refocused himself when Hyland spoke again.

“Oh, ah, yes. It seems the area where we want to build this road is a rather uneasy one.”

“People who settle down extralegally, hmm…Forests always come with problems like that, but considering the prince-elector’s position is still unstable, I don’t think we can expect a major operation.”

“…Can the kingdom send help?” Col asked.

Hyland shook her head. “Even rumors of armed outsiders entering lands where leadership and control is ambiguous would pose a huge problem.”

That was a big reason why Luward and his mercenary company did not accompany Col to Wobern.

“Plus, Wobern isn’t in a place where you can casually pay a visit. If it were a city in the plains, we could have used that as an excuse for our presence.”

If they absolutely had to exercise the military force of an outside party, it would have to be done in a way no one would notice.

Was that possible?

While Col had managed to resolve quite a few problems on his own, this dilemma forced him to admit defeat.

And so he had sent a letter to Hyland that was more like whining than anything, but for some reason she seemed delighted.

“I racked my brain over this for a while, but I came up with the perfect people for the job.”

“What?”

Col was shocked, and Hyland offered a wicked grin.

It was then that a young man came aboard the ship from the pier and whispered something to Hyland.

Hyland nodded and put a hand on her hip.

“I’d love to reveal who they are, but you’ll just have to wait and see. Let’s take care of our chores first. It seems all our players have arrived.”

The reason Col met Hyland here on Cobb Island was not because it was the middle point between Ahberg and the kingdom—it was because this port city thrived on smuggling.

Anyone who was too scrutinizing would be promptly thrown out, so it was ideal for confidential talks. Especially confidential talks that involved a third party who would typically be considered an enemy.

“Well, we’ll only be confirming what we just discussed, so no need to tense up like that,” Hyland said. “And this is my role. I’ll handle it.”

The messenger turned to go back to the pier and welcome the guest ship.

Col recognized the small group of people who joined them.

They were merchants from Ahberg, plus the old steward that supported the prince-elector at his palace. This collection of ostensible enemies would stand out far too much if they had met in Wobern.

Hyland strode toward them with a bright smile on her face and welcomed them in an exaggerated manner.

“Welcome, one and all! Blessed be this encounter!”

Her choice of words and gestures was nothing like her typical self. This must be how she was when she played the part of royalty.

It was only since others had started calling him the Twilight Cardinal that Col realized everyone was acting, in a small way, to fulfill their role.

He steeled himself. It was time for him to act the part of the Twilight Cardinal. He readjusted his collar, followed Hyland’s example, and exchanged handshakes with the guests.

The meeting proceeded without incident or argument.

A merchant Col respected once said that though resentment could never become water under the bridge, it could always be washed away with riches and gold.

While everyone present had their own expectations, the fairy tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear had brought the three parties together.

And if things went well, it would greatly advance their fight against the Church.

There were seven prince-electors who held the right to choose the emperor of the modern empire, and if Col were to make allies of two of them in a short amount of time, then that would bring him influence no one in the empire could ignore.

It was not hard to imagine a third elector eager to jump on the bandwagon, and it was even easier to picture a fourth joining in fear of being left in the minority. Hyland was unusually excited as she spoke, speculating the rest would swarm them and the balance of power would completely change before long.

After the meeting, both the steward who was Prince-Elector Duran’s proxy and the merchants from Ahberg took a quick lunch, returned to their separate ships, and left Cobb Island. There was no need for them to stay long.

When Col considered how plots were concocted like this all over the world, a strange feeling settled over him.

But that only lasted until the ships vanished over the horizon. When a certain rambunctious girl emerged from the sea not long after the departure of their guests, he took on his role as big brother and sighed deeply. It seemed the water was still cold, given how blue Myuri’s lips were, but she had returned with a big grin and a shocking amount of fish.

He tossed her into hot water, washed her hair, and watched in exasperation as she promptly went straight to bed after tiring herself out. Meanwhile, Col helped prepare the fish she had caught for dinner.

The delicious scent roused the healthy girl from her sleep, and once she ate her fill, Hyland joined her to practice ballroom dancing.

In a lawless port town, far from the eyes of the authorities, partying late into the night drew no attention.

When Myuri and Hyland wore themselves out from dancing and fell asleep together like sisters, the night had already grown deep.

Col was out of lectures. He was glad they had fun.

The next day, as the sun began to dip past its zenith, a ship docked at the Cobb Island port. It bore no flag, showed no affiliation, but of course, no one questioned it.

Somewhat shady-looking men disembarked from its deck. Together, they walked through the harbor as a unit, found the ship they were looking for, and stepped aboard.

The one to greet them was Myuri—arms folded and a displeased frown on her face.

“These are the people coming with us to explore the forest?”

The forest was a forbidding one, a gathering place for those who could not live in human society.

Col and Myuri needed people to accompany them there, and considering Wobern’s unique circumstances, just anyone would not do. They needed to know their way around a sword, have strength in numbers, but also be able to enter an isolated town without causing needless friction.

Mercenaries that could be hired with money were out of the question, and royal knights were not politically viable options.

But it seemed Hyland had someone in mind for the difficult role, and so Col and the others remained on the island to wait for their arrival.

And the reason Myuri seemed so upset, now that she was looking straight at them, was because it seemed she had been expecting another party entirely.

Her first choice was the mercenary company that her beloved Luward commanded.

A close second would be the Knights of Saint Kruza, who were currently in the Winfiel Kingdom.

Col had also considered the Knights of Saint Kruza as a possible candidate, but they technically served the pope. There would have been all sorts of complications if they worked with the Twilight Cardinal in the base he was attempting to build on the mainland.

With that in mind, Col had absolutely no idea who would be coming, but when he saw their faces, he understood.

“The old man was out doing his rounds and was taking his sweet time coming back, y’see. Took me ages to get the personal letter from him, and that’s why I’m late.”

“It’s not a problem. We went ahead and held our talks with Master Col, and they went smoothly.”

“Good, that helps. I hate stuffy meetings.”

The man’s easygoing attitude convinced Col that if someone told him he was looking at a pirate based out of Cobb Island, he would have believed them.

Myuri never pulled her suspicious eyes away from this man.

Heir Klevend turned to Myuri with a wry smile.

“You still mad we accidentally kidnapped your brother, little girl?”

“Nuh-uh!”

Myuri looked away in a huff and took one big stride toward Col.

He had heard Myuri had been in a considerable panic when Heir Klevend’s men mistook Col for someone else and kidnapped him.

He patted her on the back in an attempt to calm her, but all that did was make her glare daggers at him instead.

Apparently, she was still angry that her big brother was foolish enough to get kidnapped in the first place.

“It’s okay,” Hyland said. “I know we all have our business to attend to, but I couldn’t think of anyone more perfect for the job.”

Myuri huffed when she heard that.

“The Twilight Cardinal is going to be in Prince-Elector Duran’s care for a while, so etiquette dictates we must send a formal letter from our king requesting his cooperation in our fight against the Church. We’ll send the prince and his men to Wobern on the pretense of bringing the letter to him.”

Col silently murmured.

Skill with sword and horse…a considerably sized entourage…a presence that would not cause friction in Wobern.

He understood now. They were perfect for the job.

“I thank my sister for her recommendation from the bottom of my heart. There are no wars anymore in this day and age so I must be truly blessed to get this chance to hold my blade outside of the kingdom. I’m so happy I’m gonna cry.”

His men standing behind him were the spare sons of nobles who had little hope of ever inheriting their family’s titles, and without any wars to prove themselves, their fine swordsmanship and horsemanship would be all for nothing. But that was the very reason why rumors about them plotting to usurp the throne had spread across the kingdom.

That caused a major headache for the stubbornly earnest Hyland, and she likely still had a few reservations. After a short, tired sigh at Klevend’s sarcastic tone, she quickly moved on.

“If the people of Wobern see a prince second in line for the Winfiel throne making his way toward the palace, there’s a chance they’ll start seeing the prince-elector differently. It should at least help prop up his unstable authority.”

Regardless of what he’s like on the inside. Klevend sensed the unsaid part of that sentence and he replied, “Hey, I’m gonna do my job and I’m gonna do it well! Don’t even worry about it.”

Hyland shrugged, and Col shook hands with Klevend.

Myuri was on Hyland’s side, of course; she stood beside her and bared her fangs at the prince.

Hyland left Cobb Island, and so Col and the rest of his party went to Ahberg with Klevend and his men.

In Ahberg, Col entrusted a letter for Eve to Ilenia, who offered him a charming little smile. His message was far too demanding to be conveyed with just a letter, so Ilenia would have to personally deliver it to Eve.

Col gave her his earnest apologies, only for Ilenia to reply with a surprisingly mischievous chuckle.

Once she left for Estatt, Col and company made their way for Wobern once again. Le Roi the bookseller had originally asked to accompany them, since they would be establishing a scripture workshop there, but collecting information on mainland clients requesting a copy of the scripture took priority, so he decided to remain working in Ahberg for a little while longer, since it was more convenient place for communication.

And so the rather strange combination of Col, Myuri, Vadan’s crew, and Klevend’s followers made their way to Wobern together.

While Klevend and all his men were nobility, they did not complain once about traveling on foot, and they took to sleeping together on the floor at inns in stride, which was rather unusual for the highborn.

Col soon realized even if he outright told merchants staying at the same inns that the leader of this band of men was second in line for the Winfiel throne, they would not believe him, which struck him as a bit funny.

After some time on the road, their party safely arrived in Wobern. But it was when they paid a visit to the prince-elector’s palace that Klevend and his men proved their worth.

They scrubbed away the dust of travel, shaved their beards, and clad themselves in the splendid garb shoved into their packs. Now they were, from every angle, a prince and his entourage.

Even their bearing was effortlessly refined—clearly cut from a very different cloth when compared to Myuri’s veneer, largely based on secondhand information from Hyland.

With bold carriage, Klevend and his men had their audience with Prince-Elector Duran, and they respectfully offered him the letter from the king.

Once all required ceremonies were finished, their party returned to the manor, where Myuri muttered in discontent. “He really is a prince…”

The purpose of delivering the letter was not simply to demonstrate the king’s intent, but also to elevate the prince-elector’s authority.

That was why Klevend and his men sounded the trumpet while marching in formation, making their way toward the prince-elector’s in the most majestic manner possible. Plus, after the offering of the letter, they all took a walk together with the prince-elector through the courtyard and offered bread and wine to all the townsfolk who had come to watch.

That—out of context—showed Klevend to be a magnificent prince.

Myuri knew, however, just how uncouth they really were, and so she must have felt like she was being tricked.

But the whole display should have had a great effect on the townsfolk.

It was clear to anyone watching that Prince-Elector Duran must have been making waves in foreign diplomacy for such a majestic prince to go out of his way to visit the city. People were possibly looking at the prince-elector differently, and it was possible nobles throughout Wobern were adjusting their attitude toward him.

Incidentally, Col was present at the ceremony, but he was little more than a background object.

“Have you changed your opinion of him yet?”

“…Only for whatever this honey’s worth.”

Myuri cradled in her arms a jar of honey Klevend had brought her as a present. She had been clinging it to it since leaving Ahberg, and she hugged it when she slept, too.

With a loud guffaw, Klevend reached out to ruffle Myuri’s hair, but she dodged him. It seemed like he could see right through her.

The way he enjoyed himself despite the cold treatment reminded Col of Hyland.

Klevend took his royal sword from his waist and carelessly placed it on the shelf, not minding even when Myuri held it up in fascination. He ran his hand through his hair, hardened by egg whites, to undo the styling.

“Now, that’s gotta be it for all the stuffy work, right? You’re not gonna tell me we’re going for a long prayer at church next, are you?”

Myuri, nails clattering over the jewels on the sword, turned to look at Col, too.

“We might pray for your safe travels when you leave.”

Klevend laughed, pulled up a chair—one placed against the wall simply for decoration—and dropped into it with a thud.

“Everyone’s raring to go. Slaying evildoers in the forest, yeah?”

Even those who had been dressed in their uniforms to show they were a part of Klevend’s entourage had now gone from emissaries of the kingdom back to members of Klevend’s gang.

“We…don’t know quite yet if they’re evildoers.”

“Eh?”

“Green Hood!” Myuri shouted before Col pushed her away, and Klevend laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

“Oh man, I remember Green Hood. The wet nurse used to tell me those stories when I was a kid.”

“You know about it?”

“ ’Course. We got a few stories like that in the kingdom.”

Myuri’s eyes rounded, and had her wolf tail been out, it would have been wagging.

“Well, noble bandits don’t actually exist, obviously. The second you start slackin’ and don’t look after your land, bad guys start setting up camp.”

Klevend was like an older version of Myuri, but as a prince, he understood how the real world worked in ways that she did not.

The bad prince grinned at the offended girl.

“The closest thing to real noble bandits would be me and the boys.”

Klevend puffed out his chest and pointed his thumb at himself. Myuri, like the teenage girl she was, stared at him coolly.

“Hyland said your bandit games caused everyone so many problems,” she said.

Though she typically called Hyland “Blondie,” she chose to deliberately use her name, which showed just how sharp she really was.

“Her head’s screwed on too tight,” Klevend said. “And she was freed from the annoying gnats who go sniffing around for other people’s mistakes, all because I stand out so much.”

“………”

Col had heard royalty and upper-crust nobles were crafty. Myuri did not know how they attempted to sabotage one another for herself, but it seemed she could generally picture it happening.

But the reason she turned to look at Col and gave a big shrug was because she was trying to call attention to the remark about people sniffing around for mistakes, probably because she was constantly being scolded.

“But I’d say the prince-elector here is more like my sister than anything. I gotta teach him how to liven up the town ’cause I’m here visiting, and how to act like a lord respected by his people.”

Myuri, who loved the festival mood, regardless of reason, even asked, “Is there going to be dancing?”

“But we got a job to do before we party. When are we heading over?”

Even though he had carelessly placed his state sword on the shelf, he still kept his plain-looking sword at his belt.

When Klevend asked, Myuri looked over at Col and tilted her head downward, clearly also wanting to go on the adventure as soon as possible.

But the wolf girl spoke, as though suddenly remembering something.

“Oh, let me just say this.”

“Eh?”

“I’m captain of my brother’s guard.”

As Myuri drew clear lines around her territory, the prince who was second in line for the throne of the Kingdom of Winfiel placed his hands on his knees and reverently bowed.

While one could not increase their physical strength after a single day of hard work, political power was different.

The letter-offering ceremony Klevend had conducted with such dignity was already showing incredible results.

It wasn’t long before minor nobles sensitive to changes in social tides and the merchants who ruled the city began to visit the prince-elector more frequently.

This was the start of a virtuous cycle, steadily changing public opinion of the prince-elector, which put increasing pressure on those in power to change their opinions as well.

And the more well-received he was, the more positively his people would treat the opening of a road to the south.

The prince-elector was deeply touched by how quickly he was regaining favor, and whenever Col met with him, Duran insisted on kissing the back of his hand.

But in the end, this was only possible thanks to Prince-Elector Duran’s refusal to give up and his unyielding fighting spirit. Not once did he bend the knee in defeat, and even when others reviled him as a coward, he had searched for all the possibilities that could secure his house’s interests.

When Col told him this, he was shocked to see the sad smile he received in response.

Klevend, who was standing nearby, smacked him upside the head like an older brother. At times, humility was the same as rejection.

Col had recently learned accepting gratitude was not easy.

The Twilight Cardinal still needed allies, so Col frequently sat in on meetings between the prince-elector and the local nobility, where he made himself known. It was tough, considering how uncomfortable he always was, but he had learned the important lesson in Estatt of what would happen if he continued to keep himself anonymous.

It was also in Estatt that Col had participated in a series of very similar meetings as the Twilight Cardinal. This time, the prince-elector and Klevend patiently taught him how to behave in these situations. With all this experience under his belt, he began to feel a bit more confident. Perhaps he was finally starting to look and act the part.

In the meanwhile, Myuri, who had learned in Estatt that these sorts of meetings were terribly boring, instead decided to help get the scripture printing workshop up and running.

Prince-Elector Duran had enthusiastically agreed to the building of a new workshop, but implementing that plan meant gathering artisans from across multiple disciplines—not an easy job. These artisans were stubborn, hard to please, and valued nothing more than the rules of their respective guilds. Issuing them orders from on high came with the risk of inviting backlash.

Winning over all those artisans could have very well been a job only Myuri could do.

As everyone took on various roles, preparations to search for the Moon-Hunting Bear’s fallen moon began in earnest. Rations and equipment provided by the Kingdom of Winfiel were delivered from Ahberg, and Duran asked minor nobles who came to visit him at his palace to gather skilled hunters and adventurers.

And then, the lord with the lame leg went into his library and pulled out a very detailed war map of the vast mountain region, something he had never gotten the chance to use.

The area where Amaretto hypothesized the moon might have fallen was in a part of the map that had few noteworthy features. That was how worthless and empty that land was.

Even local elders called that land infertile and cursed.

It consisted of a ravine nestled between sheer mountainsides, and following the feature south eventually led to a massive cliff, marking the abrupt edge of the mountainous region.

Myuri listened, captivated by Duran’s exposition, and Col was genuinely worried her tail was going to pop out by the end of it.

“If your fairy tale is true, then I believe the moon would be here.”

The prince-elector pointed to a very thin line drawn on the map.

It represented the middle of one of the small rivers flowing through the barren land.

“This valley has sharp mountain slopes on either side of it, and there is a little lake here. Beyond that…”

As he spoke, the prince-elector pushed the map over the table with his finger.

The map spilled over the edge of the table and hung limp.

He stopped when his finger reached the edge, the river he was pointing to acting as the folding point.

The imaginative Myuri gasped.

“A waterfall?!”

“Precisely. When I first inherited my titles, I went on a tour of my territory. It’s an old tradition that’s supposed to establish the authority of my house by walking all the lands we claim to rule. It was a challenging journey, but I have seen this very spot before with my own eyes. An eerie place, but also…a magnificent sight.”

A ravine-bound lake, and a south-facing waterfall.

One did not have to be Myuri to grasp the implications when the myth of the Moon-Hunting Bear was involved.

“Did the ravine become a lake and form a waterfall because the moon plugged it up?”

“Heh.” The prince-elector smiled with delight.

“So, where’s your enemy, milord?”

The prince-elector kept his smile in response to Klevend’s casual demeanor.

“I wouldn’t call them my enemy, per se. Ownership of land in that area is a bit vague.”

Duran recentered the map on the table with his finger, then turned a distant gaze to it.

“A cliff runs east-west at the waterfall, so going north-south is not easy. And so we generally consider land beyond that cliff as the south.”

“Oh? But you’re deliberately calling it vague. You must have some kind of old document that gives you claim to the land, don’t you?”

Though Klevend looked like a brigand, he was a bona fide member of the Winfiel royal family and was very familiar with the laws surrounding land ownership.

“We do. It’s a terribly old thing with the first king’s signature. It’s at the edge of a very rough map from a long time ago, but that area is documented as belonging to House Duran.”

“But it doesn’t feel unified, does it?”

Myuri had been staring excitedly at the map. That word coming from Klevend must have struck her as odd—she looked up, her interest piqued.

“You are exactly correct. Our impression of the land beyond the cliff is that it belongs to someone else. It is a real question as to whether or not the first prince-elector truly did rule over that area.”

“Huh…So that means…” Klevend rubbed his chin and looked at the map. “Maybe there was no lake, and it was relatively easier to go through that area when the document was first written. But if we add the myth little miss astronomer found into the mix, then the time periods don’t add up. House Duran started to rule over the mountains after the ancient empire fell, right?”

“Yes. I did ask her about that.”

The reason Amaretto was absent was because she had taken up fervent observation of the stars upon returning to Wobern, perhaps as an apology to Duran, and so her life was one lived with day and night inverted.

Amaretto occasionally joined them for dinner, still drowsy from having just woken up, and Col occasionally ran into her when he was doing his morning prayer, since she would be on her usual walk before bedtime.

“But declarations of territory, especially rural ones, are usually in form only. And if anything, we welcome the ambiguity.”

The prince-elector stirred uncomfortably in his chair.

“If we are to put a road here, then I would personally prefer to say I did not own this land.”

Myuri looked up at him curiously, and Klevend chuckled.

“It’s the job of the ruler of the land to take out the bad guys.”

“And no one wants that job to be theirs?” Myuri asked.

Klevend shrugged. “That’s why the edges of territories tend to be lawless regions. Wanderers set their sights on places like that and lurk there.”

“It’s useless land either way. So long as they don’t pose a threat, I have no need to go out of my way to clean it up. If it seems we’ll be able to put a road there, I’d rather the job of clean up goes to the lords who own the land at the end of it,” the prince-elector explained.

“Well, we can decide on that after we figure out what kind of people are living in that forest. First we gotta go and check, though. The little miss here keeps insisting it’s Green Hood, after all.”

Klevend pointed at Myuri, who pouted.

Prince-Elector Duran laughed, and he said, “We call him Black Beard Vobat.” Myuri’s eyes were already shining.

He then turned his attention to Col and said, “Personally, no matter who happens to be in the woods, I believe there is no need to forcibly evict them as long as they cooperate. But if you, Twilight Cardinal, are to make Wobern your base, then you might have to steel yourself.”

“I do?”

Prince-Elector Duran leaned back in his chair as his eyes bore straight into Col.

“Rumor says those who lurk in the woods are heretics.”

CHAPTER TWO

The entrance hall of the manor the prince-elector had allocated to Col and company quickly began to fill with luggage as preparations steadily proceeded.

Myuri was all set for the adventure, and Klevend’s entourage—or, gang, rather—was busily readying themselves for their quest into the forest.

The entire manor was filled with the excitement of undertaking a big project, but Col, on the other hand, was pensive, chewing on the word Duran had mentioned to him.

Heretics.

Those who lived in the forest had lost their place among human society.

If they were truly heretics, then what waited for Col and the others at the end of this quest would be a dark matter, one he found hard to label as an adventure.

One day, the manor door flung open, and Col heard the voice of a delighted boy.

“Wow, look at all these boxes!”

Col lifted his head from the scripture to see someone he had not seen for a while.

“Archivist Canaan.”

“Master Col!”

In their search for Amaretto, Canaan, too, had played the part of hostage and remained in Wobern.

But when Col returned with Amaretto, Canaan was already gone from Wobern. Col learned he had been away from the city this entire time, making his rounds through the mountains.

The holy bookworm, who had spent all his life in the Curia’s archives, was slightly sunburned, and his dirtied habit gave off a unique appeal.

It almost made him seem like a young traveling monk.

“Hey, it’s Canaan!”

Myuri returned from swinging her sword around in the courtyard and exclaimed in surprise.

“Whoa, you look…kinda good?” she said.

Canaan smiled, tickled, then took a dampened cloth from his bodyguard, who was similarly covered in dirt, and wiped his face.

“I might have gotten a bit of a workout while visiting all the local villages.”

Duran had indiscriminately jailed anyone who could have possibly been involved with Amaretto’s kidnapping in an attempt at finding the culprit. Other members of Wobern’s clergy were also in jail, and the moment they learned exactly who Canaan was, they had asked him a favor.

That was to grant benedictions at all the chapels throughout the mountain communities, which the priests rarely visited due to the difficult mountain roads, and to preach the gospel to the people there.

The prince-elector had requested Canaan’s presence as a hostage only as a formality, and he had little reason to suspect him. As such, Canaan quickly received permission to travel to grant his blessings, and since then, he had been away from the city, winding his way through the mountains.

“When I called on the prince-elector, he told me everything. You’ve neatly solved yet another bit of trouble with your incredible skills, Master Col!”

Canaan, either excited by seeing Col again or still riding high from his travels, gripped both of Col’s arms and leaned in close with a bright smile.

Myuri wordlessly pulled him off Col and clung to her brother’s arm.

Canaan seemed to find this reaction delightful and laughed before remembering something. “Oh, right! The reason I rushed to see you without cleaning up from my travels is because I wanted to tell you as soon as possible what I’ve gained visiting all these villages.”

“What you’ve gained?”

“Yes! Do you remember the fascinating myth you told me before we parted ways? I asked about the myth wherever I went, thinking it might be of service to you.”

Col and Myuri could not help but exchange glances.

“W-wait, don’t tell me you found it?!”

But Myuri’s reaction was more akin to panic than excitement.

Perhaps she was disappointed by the prospect that Canaan might have beaten them to it, despite all the preparations they had made for their adventure.

Canaan shook his head, but then added with a hint of mischief, “But maybe I have, in a sense.”

Col could tell, from his suggestive attitude, that he was at least partly worked up because of his exhaustion.

Canaan’s bodyguard, who was always with him, was hiding his apprehension for his master beneath his stoic expression.

Canaan said, “None of the people in the region had ever heard the story of the Moon-Hunting Bear. And that means, if the story were to have lived on…”

“Ah!”

That was the moment Canaan’s knees gave out. As he keeled over, Myuri held him up, and Col reached for him a second later.

His bodyguard, apparently used to this sort of development, wrapped his arm around Canaan from behind and slung him over his shoulder.

Canaan still wore his smile, even in that position, and somehow managed to lift his head to continue. “If the story were to have lived on, then it would be in lands whose people have absolutely no contact with those who live here.”

Now that he was finished, Canaan, his mouth still curved into a smile, suddenly went limp, like a ragdoll.

Myuri’s eyes went wide, and she peered at Canaan’s face in worry.

“He simply got overexcited,” the bodyguard said briefly, and Myuri smiled as though she had been poked in the back.

Col could picture him traversing the treacherous paths in high spirits, fervently preaching the gospel to people in these mountain communities where priests rarely ever visited.

Canaan had fallen unconscious with a satisfied look on his face. One of the workers in the manor who was hired to manage miscellaneous matters guided the bodyguard, who still had Canaan on his shoulder, to their room.

After watching them go, Myuri whirled around to face Col.

“I guess that means Canaan didn’t strike gold.”

“Assuming there is gold to find, then yes.”

She puffed out her cheeks at his careful word choice, but they quickly deflated, and she looked in the direction Canaan had gone.

“Honey helps with exhaustion, right?”

The little pup normally refused to ever let go of her tasty treats.

It sounded like Myuri was growing up.

The day they were supposed to leave on their expedition to find the moon finally came. All the main players of the expedition went to early morning mass.

They would be praying to God for safe travels, so they deliberately went to a church in the city, not the prince-elector’s private chapel.

It was so the expedition would leave an impression with the townsfolk.

Though the prince-elector was regaining his authority, it was still shaky. He had to continually impress upon his people that he was attempting a grand undertaking.

“He’s got a lot to deal with,” Myuri murmured when she saw him speaking with one of the priests. She was wearing her knight’s clothes for the first time in a while.

“And all of it is a bother to deal with. Anyone who sits on a throne is automatically important.”

For a short period of time, Klevend had been suspected of attempting to start a civil war to usurp the throne. Hearing that coming from his mouth of course made Myuri smile dryly.

“Still, are you really not coming, old man?”

Myuri’s hand would not stop touching the sword at her hip, perhaps because she was antsy before their departure, and she looked up at Klevend.

Though he always dressed like a bandit, he had been made up into the role of a prince for a few days now; this morning was no exception.

“I’m not that old. And yeah, not coming.”

“But you were so excited for this.”

Myuri judged Klevend much more harshly than she did Hyland, but it seemed she begrudgingly acknowledged they both liked adventure.

When he saw that she looked disappointed, Klevend smiled kindly at her.

“Gotta think about how people on the outside will see this. Me waltzing around someone else’s territory all enthusiastic would just look like I’m making light of the prince-elector’s authority. I’ll be taking walks with him around the courtyard and wait for good news. That way, it’ll look like I’m helping him with his great project as an ambassador from the kingdom, yeah? And that makes him look like he’s got enough power to command the cooperation of other countries and chart his own course.”

“………”

Myuri stared at Klevend silently.

Though he looked like he lived a life of freedom and privilege, he was ultimately dedicated to serving his kingdom as a member of the royal family.

“Well, you can come and join us once you get bored of walks.”

Faint surprise appeared on the prince’s face. Then he reached for the impudent Myuri’s head. For once, she did not duck away and let him pat her head.

In the meanwhile, one particular young priest who stood out from the rest of the group rushed toward Col and Myuri.

“Master Col, Miss Myuri, I’m sorry I’m late!”

All the exhaustion from the journey was gone from Canaan now, and he wore a simple priest’s habit, not his traveling kit.

In his hand jingled an accessory fitted with a silver chain.

“This is a crest I’ve had especially consecrated for you. The silver is also special, cast while prayers were being spoken. This arm band wards off evil spirits, and this ring can sense poison. And this is—”

As Canaan handed them all sorts of charms and amulets for safety on their journey, Col felt overwhelmed.

“Archivist, we don’t need all—”

“What are you talking about? I heard about where you’re going, you know. Evil lives there. I know your faith will bestow the grace of God on everyone, but you never know where the devil might be hiding!”

Canaan got on well with Myuri because not only did he like difficult books on theology, he apparently loved tales of saints warding off demons. When he heard there might be heretics in the border region dividing the north and the south, he had prepared plenty shields of faith.

“Then…I gratefully receive your gifts.”

“Please do. I’ll be praying for your safety from here.”

Canaan would be remaining in Wobern to sift through the documents stored in the church and in the prince-elector’s palace to find any clues toward the myth. He was extra passionate about these gifts, likely because he was unable to join them.

Myuri, who was wholly uninterested in matters of faith, instead showed her feminine side by curiously examining the necklace.

But when she learned the silver ring, which could sense poison in food and ward off evil, fit Col’s finger perfectly, she turned a suspicious eye on Canaan.

“Twilight Cardinal, Your Eminence.”

The prince-elector approached them.

“A person came from the palace not long ago. A letter was delivered first thing this morning.”

Prince-Elector Duran had worn a dismal expression on his face since the moment Col met him and not once had it softened—perhaps the solemnity was a habit by now.

Despite that, Col could see visible excitement behind his beard.

“It is from Gobrea and Berlind. The reply is a favorable one—they want to hear from you.”

“They—they do?”

Col held his breath—the names Duran mentioned were those of other prince-electors.

Prince-Elector Gobrea, especially, was one who owned the greatest amount of territory within the empire, and his influence on the emperor was said to be great. And Prince-Elector Berlind was said to have a heart of unyielding faith.

If those two were going to join Col’s cause, then along with the archbishop of Estatt, that would mean he would have over half of the seven prince-electors on his side.

Considering how the emperor had been chosen for generations via election of the prince-electors, the significance of the situation would be immeasurable.

“The prince from the land of rolling fields and I will negotiate with the prince-electors until you return from your journey.”

Prince-Elector Duran had been in an extremely precarious spot not long ago; now he was clearly thrilled to suddenly be taking up his position as center of politics once again. It seemed less so that he was power hungry, and more that he had been feeling bad for his successive generations as one who inherited a lineage that had long survived before him.

“But Twilight Cardinal—will you be joining the expedition? The prospectors say the paths are truly treacherous…”

“As someone studying God’s teachings, I am sure I will more deeply feel God’s presence by traversing those treacherous mountains.”

It was an arbitrary response, but there were two big reasons why Col was joining the expedition.

One was appearances, like Klevend said.

If the Twilight Cardinal joined the expedition, then he would appear to be serving at the prince-elector’s pleasure.

That would just be one more thing to help establish the prince-elector’s authority. And Col had a feeling it would not seem right for the Twilight Cardinal to sit around and wait for good news. Of course, he felt responsible as the one who had proposed the plan, and that he should venture out on his own feet.

The other reason was more earnest.

“As God watches over us little lambs, there are those I must watch over as well.”

Myuri turned to look at him, gave him an annoyed look, and then turned away in a huff.

The prince-elector smiled at her like a kind old man, then nodded.

“Then I shall pray for your safe travels once again.”

Col bowed his head and gave his thanks.

And so when they returned to the manor from the church, there they found all their travel gear ready to go.

The reason they gathered such a large company for the journey was not only because the roads would be treacherous, but because they would also be venturing over land where there were no roads at all. There was no chance they would be able to travel directly to their destination. They would have to make bases here and there, search for terrain they could safely traverse, and secure a path for themselves before pushing onward.

Doing so would mean that if there was an unexpected incident on the road, they could briefly retrace their steps to find a healthy and rested individual standing by at one of the outposts and ask them for help.

But the simple need for those preparations suggested they had a tough journey ahead of them.

Horses would not be carrying their cargo. They had donkeys for that, since they were known for their sturdiness. They even had goats.

Goats could scarcely carry any cargo and they were slow, but they could cross rough ground with more ease than any human could.

That went to show what harsh terrain lay between them and their destination.

“Maybe we should’ve gotten Miss Ilenia to come with us,” Myuri whispered to Col, but the way she had her shoulders drawn up and the smile on her face suggested she was not seriously worried.

With a sigh, Col scolded, “Calm down. These creatures thrive in mountains that are harsh in a way that is altogether different from Nyohhira. Let us trust in their strength.”

Some members of their party looked like little more than bandits, even more so than Klevend and his gang. These people were prospectors who rested their entire lives on all-or-nothings, occasionally venturing into deep woods on their own in search of ore veins.

Col thought Myuri would love them because of the scent of adventure, but she kept her distance.

When he asked why, the wolf princess declared they were too uncivilized for her.

“Everyone got everything, then?”

After looking down at everyone gathered in the manor courtyard, Klevend called loudly above everyone.

There was a dignity to it that differentiated it from a simple shout—a quality unique to those who held stations of importance.

“The future of Wobern rests on the work you’re about to do. I give you my encouragement in Prince-Elector Duran’s stead!”

The kingdom was apparently paying quite a lot for this, so the hunters and prospectors who were acting as guides were fairly enthusiastic about the job.

Klevend’s buddies, who were withering away in the kingdom without anything to do, were the same, as was the adventure-loving, rambunctious child.

“Now, a word from the Twilight Cardinal.”

Klevend mischievously passed the baton to Col, but since he had been present in meetings between the prince-elector and the local lords, he had grown used to this.

“No matter how deep the woods into which we venture, God is always watching over us. May He protect us and bless us on our journey.”

The harsh land encouraged simple, but fervent faith.

While everyone bowed their heads in prayer, Myuri reluctantly pretended to join.

But Col’s prayer was not made casually.

Were there simple bandits living in the forest? Or something else?

All he could do was hope things proceeded peacefully.

Once they left Wobern, the sheer, rocky inclines loomed over them.

Though the mountains seemed like they were covered in trees from a distance, they would approach only to find them surprisingly bare. The bleak sight made the paths feel even more unforgiving.

The party had passed the ridge of the mountains that wreathed Wobern past noon, and from there they ventured into the world beyond.

The weather was good—they could see out over the glorious sight of the mountain range from the peak.

The higher-elevation mountains—the ones that scraped the heavens—were especially overwhelming to Myuri.

Not a single tree grew on these mountains; only sharp rocks tore into the sky here.

Col was beginning to understand why people who lived their whole lives seeing scenery like this tended to be so devout.

But luckily, the mountains in the direction they were heading were not all that steep, and the elevation gradually became gentler as they made their way south.

That said, the paths were lacking, and above all, Col was shocked by the diversity of the land.

One moment, they would be walking along a cliffside, suspended at a terrifying height, only to suddenly stumble into a densely packed conifer forest that made Col feel like he was plumbing the depths of darkened water. Then, with hardly any warning, they would find themselves crossing a wide-open plain, where it seemed like everything glittered under the sun.

Once in a while, they would cross paths with some of the local goatherds. Col exchanged glances with a pair of deer gazing at them from the tree line. And they often stepped over creeks of freezing-cold snowmelt.

The world was rich, full of life, at times harsh, and at times filled with an array of colors that stole his breath away—the overwhelming presence of nature around them told him this. Even Myuri eventually stopped swinging her stick around and began to gaze out onto the scenery with fresh eyes.

Nyohhira was deep in the mountains too, yes, but it was a place of homogenous sights.

And so by the time they arrived at their first stopping point in one little village, Myuri’s silhouette had completely transformed into that of a poet contemplating nature.

On the other hand, Col’s feet were covered in blisters, and so Myuri applied some salve and bandaged them for her pitiful brother.

“That reminds me—I applied oil to your feet and legs to ward off frostbite when we first left on our journey, didn’t I?”

Col turned an affectionate gaze on her, realizing she had grown so much since then. Her only response was delivering an annoyed smack to his foot.

The next day, Col attempted to shoulder his bags for their departure, but Myuri began peeling this and that off him.

“There’s no point if you collapse,” she said.

Just as he was about to mention feeling bad being the only one with a lighter load, her cold stare silenced him. It was often said that travel matured people, and perhaps Myuri had outgrown him in a few aspects already.

On the second and third days they ventured farther and farther from civilization, which only brought the members of their expedition closer.

Everyone rejoiced when someone felled a large deer; they all huddled together, regardless of station, when the rain came.

They shared a unique feeling of camaraderie and elation. Col smiled dryly—it was in the middle of his very own adventure that he was beginning to see why Myuri was so obsessed with adventure stories.

On the sixth day of their journey, around noon, they came to a ridge.

This ridge was already a full day’s trek from the nearest goatherd’s hut. It was a strange place—if Col were to stand still, he would hear no noise at all.

Another strange point about this place was that the area before the ridge was relatively rich with trees, the area past the ridge was home to only sparse copses, and the trees that made up those clusters scarcely had any leaves.

At his feet was a sheer cliff, and there was exposed rock and patches of gravel as far as the eye could see. This was truly barren land.

Right in the middle of the desolate view was a lake filled with inky black water.

“It’s like the edge of the world,” Myuri muttered. The scenery compelled Col to nod in agreement.

“The prospectors say that lands that suffer large-scale landslides end up looking like this,” he said.

With the topsoil stripped away, the rock exposed, the fruits of the land lose their support and are washed away in the rains. The impacts of these incidents left marks for decades, if not centuries.

Col understood the logic, but what was strange to him was that every incline he could see was exactly the same.

Was this the result of nature? Or was it a cursed land, abandoned by God?

Or was it neither, and actually the work of people who feared no god?

Myuri sniffed, taking in the scents on the wind, likely because she was attempting to sniff out traces of other nonhumans.

As Col gazed out over the desolate land, he spotted some of the hunters and prospectors in the distance checking the road ahead.

To open a new path south, they would have to go past this lake’s waterfall.

There were no proper roads, so they would have to proceed along the lake’s edge. But first, they needed to find a way down to the lakeside.

Col lifted his gaze slightly from the other members of the expedition and squinted at the nearby peaks.

“Perhaps…this used to be a large ravine, but then the mountains on either side collapsed…”

“That’s what it looks like, huh.”

The mountains’ midslopes had been gouged out, turning them into sharp, vertical cliffs. Even the peaks seemed like they would come tumbling down at any moment.

The reason Myuri was so quiet was because she was picturing what had happened here, imagining the Moon-Hunting Bear’s violence.

But what was certain was that whatever had happened here was something the claws of a wolf girl could never hope to accomplish. She had found her limits just breaking the bank of the river during the impostor incident in Estatt.

Col patted her on the back to cheer her up, only to find that the others had reached the lake at some point and were waving up at them.

“Shall we?”

Myuri nodded wordlessly and set off with a deep breath.

The reason the lake looked so dark was because the water was a dark brown to begin with, and the rock face around it was pale. And since the water was practically stagnant, the lake’s surface was reminiscent of the land of the dead.

As they proceeded alongside the lake, keeping it in the corner of their eyes, there eventually came the faint sound of running water.

The hunter leading the way came to a stop and stared ahead.

When Col and Myuri caught up with him, they found the lake had gone from the silence of death back to the life of a river.

“It’s not quite the waterfall I was expecting,” Col remarked.

He had pictured water poured from a jug—massive amounts of water spilling over a sheer cliff. But in reality, the brown water ran over the darkened rock as though rinsing it clean.

“But it goes pretty far down. Look,” Myuri said as she looked down at the sight below from atop the cliff. “That’s a super thick forest. It’s like a whole different continent all of a sudden.”

Unlike what they had heard before, the mountains continued past the cliff.

But beyond this point, the elevation plummeted. As a result, the forest beneath was so thick, it looked like they could walk atop the canopy.

And what was a true shock was that far, far into the distance toward the south, Col could vaguely make out what looked like a great plain.

That was what was generally regarded as the south—warm climates, endless fertile fields, the home of wheat and wine.

Col was suddenly overwhelmed by an incomprehensible sensation, as though he had stepped through a door in time.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was not all that strange. Wobern was already very close to the south as the crow flies, and they had walked six days south from there.

It was not strange, but he was simply bewildered by what almost felt like dissatisfaction.

“Can we see Canaan’s house from here?”

Myuri’s innocent question finally allowed Col to regain some composure, and he squinted into the distance.

“I highly doubt it. But I have heard that if you look this way from the top of the spire at the Holy See, you can just make out the mountains we stand on now.”

“………”

Myuri’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open—she had gotten a taste of just how simultaneously big and small the world was.

People divided the land between north and south in their heads.

But even that dividing line, too, was so indistinct.

That told Col, once again, just how significant it would be if they were to build a road here.

He thought the south was a place that existed far, far away.

So perhaps his victory in the fight against the Church was also closer than he first assumed.

“If there was no cliff here in the distant past…,” he murmured, almost silently. Myuri twisted around to look at him. “An army from the south could have followed the river and ventured very deep into these mountains with relative ease.”

“The river’s not very big, anyway. But Green Hood’s gotta be in a forest like this, right?”

“That would make things a lot easier for us.”

Myuri looked at him warily. She wondered why he was not on board with her suggestion.

There was no way to tell what the thick forest was actually like from all the way on top of the cliff. It was still a place no human could approach—the home of spirits.

And of course, they would not be able to find the village of forest dwellers said to live down below from up there.

Not long afterward, there came a shout from a short distance away.

“It seems they found a path leading down the cliff.”

There came the metallic sound of metal on metal—they were setting up a rope to traverse the cliff.

Col had gone up and down sheer cliff faces following a rope, just like this, so while it was terrifying the first time, he was now more used to it.

“I wonder what kind of forest it’ll be,” Myuri mused and sniffed her nose, her face made fierce by the dust of travel.

It was no longer the north.

Prince-Elector Duran had said as much, and now Col understood exactly what he meant.

Nowhere they had traversed thus far had been flat, yet now Col felt like he was suddenly walking on solid ground again.

The expedition decided to take a short rest at the bottom of the cliff.

“This is a relief,” Col remarked.

“The river water seems kinda clean, too,” Myuri said.

The reason it felt that way was because the river was shallow, the flow was gentle, and there were a lot of small pebbles at the bottom.

The waterfall washed down the rock face, collected at the basin, and the gentle flow of water from that went on to meander through the trees.

What was the most shocking was how many fish Col saw when he approached the river.

Upon closer inspection, he saw the river was the perfect depth for river fish to call it home.

As he marveled at how these places existed away from civilization, he noticed Myuri was not looking at the river, but at the sky.

“Did you find something?” he asked.

There was a thick cover of forest trees above them, and Col’s eyes did not tell him if anything was there.

But Myuri was not alone. The hunters and prospectors acting as their guides were doing the same.

“This…isn’t an empty forest,” Myuri said.

“What?”

He scarcely had a moment to be perplexed when he heard the sound of crunching gravel.

Col looked to find the seasoned hunter, Grant, who was leading the expedition, approaching him.

“Twilight Cardinal, there is something I need to tell you.”

“You mean this place, right?”

Grant raised a brow at how Myuri had leaped ahead of him.

“Can’t you tell, Brother?” she asked. “This place is unnatural.”

Still, he had no way of telling.

His only observation was that it was an abundant forest.

“You’re putting this hunter to shame,” Grant said.

“I grew up in the mountains, too,” Myuri shot back, and the hunter gave her a once over and allowed her to explain.

“Look closely. Starting at the waterfall basins, the trees are all planted in the same alternating pattern.”

“What?”

“You can tell that’s a chestnut tree, right? That’s a pear tree, this is a peach tree. Some I haven’t seen before, but I think they all bear fruit at different times of the year. There were raspberries in the brush, too—natural forests don’t end up like this.”

“The river is clearly being cared for, too,” Grant remarked.

“The river, too?” the bookworm asked. Myuri tugged on his arm and explained in Grant’s stead.

“See how fruit-bearing trees grow next to the deep parts? When those fruits rot, it draws out bugs, which means the fish can eat the bugs that fall.”

It looked like nothing but a natural stream in Col’s eyes, but there were indeed many signs of fish. And when he thought about the occasional deep pockets in the stream, meant to keep the flow of the river relaxed, and the placement of trees that supplied the fish with food…

“Then does that mean our forest dwellers live here?”

“No, it does not seem that way,” Grant said.

Col glanced at Myuri.

The wolf girl just shrugged with a straight face, so Grant explained.

“This must be their hidden stream. An emergency food store, you could say. We hunters of the mountain will also plant trees that bear fruit here and there, cut off streams with rocks to collect fish, all in case we end up trapped in the mountains because of a landslide or whatnot. We never tell our lords, of course.”

“I…see.”

“But you don’t often see it at this scale. They must have their regular base elsewhere, far away, and perhaps they escape here at times of emergency.”

A casual look made it seem like only a deep, pastoral forest.

But someone who truly looked would find an entirely different meaning in this verdant world.

“When the prince-elector honored us with this job, I assumed it would just be some failed bandits lurking about.” Grant stroked his beard, which had grown out during the journey, and looked out over the forest with narrowed eyes. “This may mean trouble. This is not something that can be put together in a day. That means this is an organized group with a leader.”

Col thought about the image he had in his mind of the poor people who had been ousted from society, forced to escape to the forest.

Mental images of people living on the brink of starvation, at the edge of exhaustion, was slowly replaced by something else.

A group with a leader.

He recalled what Prince-Elector Duran said to him before they departed.

“These may not be poor souls relying on one another for survival,” Grant remarked. “But heretics who’ve established a considerable base.”

Col suddenly noticed Grant had a bow slung over his shoulder, which he had not had when they were descending the cliff.

The other hunters were similarly armed.

“Though going up and down is a bit of a pain, I would suggest building a base at the top of the cliff.”

Though Col had no other thoughts regarding the forest besides “pastoral,” the silence that sat over it suddenly felt eerie. Fleeing in the face of heretics would be a disgrace as a man hoping to join the ranks of the clergy one day, but the closest village they could call upon for aid was a full two days away.

The paths were rough, and if he were unfortunate enough to be severely injured, then he could not be easily carried anywhere.

“I’m starting to get why the king wouldn’t want to come out here,” Myuri murmured.

There was no reason to deliberately shine a light on the darkness.

On the leading hunter’s command, everyone who had descended the cliff went back up via the rope.

Only the most skilled hunters and the bravest prospectors remained to explore the area at the bottom of the cliff.

Col, of course, was ordered back up the cliff, and so he did as he was told.

“I’m surprised you did not selfishly insist to stay down there,” he said to Myuri once they reached the top again, and she shrugged.

“Because if I did, you’d say you were staying down there with me. I’d explore with everyone else if you didn’t.”

She glared daggers at him.

“…I’m sorry.”

He managed a vague apology, but it was truly that dangerous out there.

The nimblest members of Klevend’s gang remained on standby at the bottom of the cliff to support the hunters.

Myuri heaved a bored sigh and began digging at the roots of a nearby tree.

“What are you doing?” Col asked.

“I’ve got nothing else to do,” she replied.

The upper half of the lake sat in barren land, but this area did have some soil.

Myuri immediately dug out a worm, then reached out to pluck a hair from Col’s head.

“Use your own hair…”

Myuri’s long hair was her pride and joy.

She completely ignored him. She tied the hair on a stick about the size of the end of her pinky, then wrapped the unearthed worm around the stick.

“I dunno how they do it, but fish can swim up waterfalls, right?”

She was implying there must have been plenty of fish in this lake, considering how many were in the basin below.

The stalwart girl from the mountains swung around the strand of hair, unlucky worm tied to the end of it, and walked toward the lake.

It was the second day after they arrived at the waterfall where north and south met, around noon.

While the party at the bottom of the cliff conducted their expedition, those at the top surveyed the geography of the land.

Whenever anyone needed to go up or down the cliff, they needed to hang on to the rope every time—hardly a proper path. And so the search for a more walkable way down the cliff continued.

The prospectors looked optimistic when they studied the exposed rock beside the waterfall.

“I think we’d be able to build wooden stairs on a cliff face like this.”

One prospector was talking about a staircase that would be built up from the ground and held in place by stakes wedged between the rocks.

Apparently, they would build platforms to move around more precarious landforms in the mines.

“Why didn’t the ancient army do that?” Myuri asked as she looked at the diagram of the wooden staircase the prospector had drawn on the ground.

“The land up the lake is the same. Land stabilizes after a long, long time. When guys like us open mines, regions that used to be tranquil suddenly go through big changes, plagued by floods and landslides every year, and that pushes people out of that land…Guess it’s not that uncommon.”

The prospector stuck out his lower lip facetiously; Myuri looked like she wanted to say something to him, but ultimately held her tongue. She was not afraid of talking to others and easily made friends with everyone, but she did not talk to the prospectors because her mother, the wisewolf, must have told her about the harm mining can do.

“If this cliff and lake were created by a sudden mountain collapse, then the land at the time must have thrashed and struggled. Judging by the type of rocks on the ground here, I reckon the first mountain collapse would’ve been farther upstream from the lake.”

When he said that, both Col and Myuri turned to look in that direction.

“The valley was suddenly blocked up, water pooled, overflowed, then pushed out the blockage…Rinse and repeat for years and years, after which things settled here. No way we would’ve been able to so casually build any kind of wooden staircase.”

All Col could picture was an endless expanse of gravel and mud.

Inclines left exposed by the mountain collapses were brittle and could easily fall, streams of water that could hardly be called rivers flowed as they pleased through the gaps in the gravel, and all that chipped away at irregular features, further destabilizing the ground.

The land writhing was quite the apt way of describing it.

“A cursory look around makes me think several of these mountains got caught up in the changes. I could understand why that became a myth about a giant bear going mad.”

During the incident with the Twilight Cardinal impostor, Myuri dug into the bank of a river and flooded the nearby area. While the plan itself was a success, she had apparently truly felt just how powerless she was in the face of the greatness of nature.

And that such large-scale changes to a land like this could truly be nothing other than the work of God.

“But that’s all in the past. This is good land. We’re lucky this land was left to sit for so many years, ’cause it’s stable. It’s a good time for a harvest.”

The prospector stamped his short, stocky legs on the ground.

He then narrowed his eyes and squinted at the forest at the bottom of the cliff.

“If we build some kinda inn here, then sit under the awning and watch the sunset with a tipple? Bet it’d taste like heaven.”

There was a nice smile on the prospector’s face, so Myuri followed suit and peered at the forest below, too.

She gulped, perhaps imagining biting into roasted meat.

“That said…tasty fruit always draws in the bugs.”

“Do you mean…the forest dwellers?”

The prospector shrugged.

“You gotta manage your mine well, otherwise things get messy when people start fighting over permits. Well, I guess we got the prince-elector and the Twilight Cardinal with us, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” the prospector said with a smile, then shuffled off.

The diagram he drew of the staircase that would connect the top and bottom of the cliff remained on the ground.

A wooden structure would widen the scope of their project, but if they created a gentle slope with wooden boards, then carriages could come and go, too.

Col imagined this empty, abandoned land being cut open, allowing people to come and go, turning this place into a lively inn town.

The south was frighteningly close, and the people of the Holy See would likely be shocked by that fact, too.

They would undoubtedly feel the heat of all the anger originating from surprisingly close by.

“Brother,” came a voice, which drew Col back to the present.

“You’ve got a scary look on your face.”

The way Myuri clasped her hands behind her back, dug her heels into the ground, made her seem more amused than her words suggested.

“Are we all gonna attack from here and take out the villains?”

It seemed the girl had read his mind.

“Not quite.”

Giving off that impression would certainly earn them great compromises.

The Church would then stop acting as they pleased and rectify the violence that was causing so much strife everywhere.

They had set off from the north, and now they had come this far.

Their goal was not that far away.

It was truly only one or two cliffs away.

“Hey, Brother, what if you built your church here?”

“What?”

“There’s a forest, a nice view, and food from both the south and the north would pass through here, right? It’s kind of sad there’s no hot spring, but…there’s a lot of lake water. I could take care of my hair properly here.”

Myuri was born in Nyohhira, a land where hot water bubbled up from the earth. She had been shocked when she learned hot water was not so easily obtained in the rest of the world. Toward the beginning of their journey, she had stubbornly washed her hair in icy well water.

She had mellowed more recently—she had stopped whining about wanting to wash her hair in hot water while they were on the road.

Travel brought growth and change to both of them, and that was even calming them down.

Just in the way the prospector said the land changed.

“You’re not gonna come to the new continent, right, Brother?”

And so when Myuri asked that question, there was no shadow of sadness on her face.

“I am somewhat interested, but it is not an idea that brings me much excitement,” Col replied. “I am not suited for searching for the edge of the world whilst withstanding seasickness.”

“Lame.” Myuri crinkled her nose as she said that, but Col remained smiling.

“But that might not be so bad if I were to remain here, in the church I build.”

“Hmm?”

“Whether you venture out to traverse the harsh northern mountains, or explore the warm lands of the south, or make your way toward the new continent, this would be an easy place for you to return to.”

Col caught a glimpse of the image of Myuri walking up the cliffside path, sack slung over her shoulder, waving the moment she saw him.

Not once had he glimpsed God, but he had so many nightmares of this wild child appearing in unspeakable states.

“You’re not going home?”

Her question was unexpected.

“To Nyohhira? Nyohhira is…certainly important to me, like a second home, but I chose to embark on this journey myself.”

Col had not been asked to leave the bathhouse, and the owners of the establishment had told him he was welcome back at any time.

But journeys changed people dramatically.

And once they changed, they could no longer fit in their previous boxes.

Even if he were to return to that lively bathhouse, he would not slot into place neatly like he did before he left.

“What about you? Will you finally go back like you’re supposed to?” Col asked with a little scoff.

Myuri scrunched up her face and smacked his arm.

“If you say you’re going back, then I’ll think about it.”

“Mister Lawrence is awaiting your return at the bathhouse.”

“Bleh.”

Myuri bared her teeth at him, suddenly relaxed, then leaned on him.

“I know how wide the outside world is now.”

Myuri’s father was formerly a traveling merchant, and Myuri’s mother had found herself bored of the deep mountains and ventured south, where she came across a village she took a liking to and stayed there for centuries.

The two of them had had their great adventures, and they had found a place to settle in at the end of it.

Perhaps the reason they had allowed her to come on this journey was because of that.

“So I kind of understand that adventures will end one day, too.”

Col looked at Myuri as she gazed out over the forest to the south from atop the cliff, and she seemed terribly grown up.

When she first caught a glimpse of the end of their journey, she had fallen apart—she had never considered such a thing before.

But for better or for worse, people grew, changed, and settled.

Perhaps that could be called growth, but it was indeed a bit sad.

“I think it’d be nice if you built your church somewhere. I’ll bring you souvenirs from my travels, and Mother and Father can come visit sometimes.”

“I’d gladly listen if you have any suggestions for where you’d like the church to be…”

“Hmm?”

“But I will decide how it’s built. I am not particularly fond of the idea of being cooped up in a building with no exit.”

Myuri’s mouth fell open, then flashed a delighted, toothy grin.

“It’s because you’re a fool, Brother. Who knows what’ll happen to you if you’re not surrounded by walls,” she said, then joyously clung to his arm. “I don’t want you to leave on a new journey without me knowing.”

Her red eyes stared right at him.

Life continued, even after the journey ended.

He may indeed start a new journey one day—that path was always open.

“But for now…” Myuri let go of him, looked around, and picked up a rather long stick.

“What are you doing?” Col asked. She had begun to draw a long line in the dirt, and she looked up with a proud expression on her face.

“Early bird gets the worm when it comes to claiming new land, right? You gotta draw your lines to show what’s yours!” the rambunctious girl said, and boldly drew out a long, straight line.

There must have been something amusing about it—she ran off, cackling as she went.

Though astonished that she was imagining a building that big, he also felt that if Myuri were to draw out her dreams on the ground, they would be at least that size.

“I am no match for you,” Col murmured.

It was a leisurely, calm afternoon. If only they could open up a road the same way Myuri drew lines on the ground, with no trouble at all.

Dawn shone on the morning after he had that thought.

That was when he received a report that those exploring the land beneath the cliff had been captured by the forest dwellers.

One of Klevend’s men delivered an ominous message, blood drained from his face.

Several members of the expedition who had decided to take a walk around the perimeter had found him, frightened and cowering.

He said he had been helping the hunters by preparing food at their small base and waiting for their return. He heard a sound in the brush and thought it was a rabbit. As he rose to his feet, someone attacked him from behind.

He remained bound all throughout the night.

At dawn, he was told all his companions had been captured as he was released from his bindings.

A letter had been shoved into his hands.

On it was a short request.

“This is the land of our ancestors. Acknowledge us as the rightful owners and in exchange, we will return your companions.”

Col did not think this would be easy, but there were two things that surprised him about this.

First, the expert hunters had been captured.

They were formidable individuals who could exchange blows with desperate bears and wolves that gave them trouble in the mountains. A ragtag outfit would not have been able to take them easily, so whoever took them must have arrived in considerable numbers.

And second…

“The land of their ancestors?”

“They probably just made it up,” Grant said dismissively. The leader of the expedition had shaved his silver beard short. “Even strays will start howling and claim the awning they’ve been sitting under for three days as their territory. Even if they didn’t make it up, their stake probably doesn’t extend to much more than them squatting on this land for a few generations.”

If that were the case, then they were not necessarily lying that this land had been inhabited by their ancestors, but it didn’t change the fact they were residing there illegally.

“What should we do?” Grant asked.

Grant had been entrusted with leading the expedition, but he would not go against the Twilight Cardinal’s decision.

Taken uncharitably, this could be interpreted as Grant not wanting to take responsibility for what happened next at this crucial crossroads. Of course, when Col said he would be coming along on the expedition, Klevend warned him of this, so he was not particularly surprised.

If he could not carry much in the way of cargo, then he should at least carry this burden.

“I think it would be much too dangerous to fight.”

They were in the woods, away from civilization. While there were people and goods placed sporadically along the paths in case of emergencies, none of it had been placed there assuming injuries on a larger scale.

For a second, he considered relying on Myuri’s power, but it was much too early for miracles.

“Perhaps we can negotiate with them.”

The impatient Myuri turned narrowed eyes to him, reprimanding him for being too generous once again, but he had his reasons for this proposal.

Duran was not particularly concerned with asserting his ownership over this land to begin with.

It was so far from Wobern, and if they did manage to build a road, so long as these forest dwellers kept to themselves at the top of the cliff, then there would be nothing getting in the way of profiting from the people and goods that would pass through here.

And that meant there was a very good chance they would make a flexible decision.

“The prince-elector is smart. I doubt he has any intention of unilaterally kicking out the forest dwellers. More importantly, if we have people who know the lay of the land helping with the building and maintenance of the road, I think he would gladly hand over dominion to them.”

“I agree, but I’m certain he would only do that if they acted like loyal subjects to him in the first place, no?”

Grant ran his fingers through his silver beard.

He was right. These people had essentially captured the prince-elector’s emissaries and were holding them hostage.

That made this less a proposal and more a threat.

For the prince-elector to compromise here was not an issue of loss or profits, but of reputation.

However…

“I am sure we have no obligation to report every little detail to the prince-elector.”

When Col said that, Myuri showed more surprise than Grant.

Col glanced aside at her, as though telling her he was not that hardheaded, and then turned his attention back to Grant.

“Well, sure. So long as an arrow shot into the darkness eventually reaches its mark, no one is going to complain,” Grant said, then looked down at the letter. “We…may be able to speak with them. The writing is neat.”

“The writing?”

It was Myuri who repeated that curiously.

“What do you think, Your Eminence?” Grant asked. “The village priests always said that handwriting reflects the character of the writer.”

What suddenly came to mind was Myuri’s energetic writing.

In that regard, the clean stroke of a pen on the page showed self-control.

If he were to make a more detailed assumption…

“Their grammar is correct, and I can see they received some sort of education from the shape of their letters. I also see…a quiet anger, I suppose. That’s the sort of sense I get.”

He detected no crude violence in the neat writing and sentences.

In those words were a deliberateness, and a steadfast will.

“Those rascals might not have any way out of this.” Grant lifted his gaze from the letter and looked to the expanse of forest at the bottom of the cliff. “Didn’t the prince-elector say there’s a chance they could be heretics?”

“You mean…they think we’re inquisitors?”

But the flag that stood at the top of the cliff was the prince-elector’s standard. If they were inquisitors, they would be using the crest of the Church, if they chose to stand out at all.

“Well, I’m sure it’s all the same to them,” Grant replied. “People armed with bows and blades suddenly show up one day at the doorstep of people with guilty consciences.”

These poor souls were huddled together deep in the forest, shivering as they went about their lives.

It would be a lie if Col said he had not pictured himself extending them a hand of mercy.

But that would be both letting his guard down, and an act of conceit.

These people had determination, skill, and were not afraid to fight.

Col took a fresh look at their current situation.

“Our goal is to build a road through here. Once the forest dwellers know this, I believe it fully possible that we can reach an agreement with them. We…still do not know if they are heretics yet.”

“Hmm.”

Grant was the one who had been given men by the prince-elector and had been left in command, so if they were to sustain any losses, responsibility would fall on his shoulders.

If they were to choose to play it safe and take the illegal residents’ request back to the prince-elector, Grant would be the one disparaged for being a coward and incompetent.

When Col looked at him, he said, despite himself, “The prince-elector did not command me to monitor you.”

Grant’s eyes widened in mild surprise for a moment before he showed a troubled smile.

“I know that,” he said. “Walking exhausting trails through the forest with someone else shows exactly what kind of person they are. You are clumsy and earnest.”

Col said what he did because he wanted to assure Grant there was no need to make obstinate decisions simply because Col was watching him, but Grant ended up patting him on the shoulder to cheer Col up.

“Either way, some of our guys got captured. If we go back with this letter in hand and our tails between our legs, it’ll hurt our honor as hunters more than anything else. But if you’ll stand out front for us, Cardinal, then we can put our bows and arrows in our hands instead.”

“I can handle that.”

“What should I do, Brother?”

Myuri’s gaze was piercing.

Col gave a tired smile. There was only one thing he could really say.

“Stay by my side, of course.”

Myuri stared at him harder, but then eventually sighed through her nose, as though declaring the answer acceptable.

Grant then clapped his hands together and barked orders to those around them.

“Listen up! If we abandon our boys and leave, then we’ll be a disgrace to the people of Wobern! The cardinal himself’s gonna be negotiating with them! If you don’t have anything better to do, make sure not even a fly touches the cardinal!”

Their expedition had already surveyed the lay of the surrounding land.

Yet they still had to be wary of ambushes or encirclements.

“I suppose I’ll let them know now.”

Col had assumed someone would act as an envoy and would go to the other party to propose the meeting, but he quickly realized that was a naive assumption.

That was because Grant took the prince-elector’s standard in hand, and shouted, with a surprisingly loud voice, at the forest below.

Myuri had told Col, like a know-it-all who loved all things about war tales, that this was how old battles were carried out, but the strength of Grant’s voice convinced him that this was indeed how they were conducted.

He shouted the message four times in total toward the forest, leaving space between each repetition.

After night fell and deepened, a message tied around an arrow found its mark on a tree at the top of the cliff.

At dawn, they would talk with the cliff between them.

When Col gave his approval, Grant let fly an arrow with their response tied to it to a tree at the bottom of the cliff.

While he was not necessarily too nervous to sleep, Myuri was tossing and turning, perhaps dreaming of a battle, and he found himself at his wits’ end.

People were already up and about by the time morning began to touch the sky, and Col took a light meal within the solemn atmosphere.

Myuri made sure she not only had her sword, but also the little pouch of wheat around her neck. Col said nothing to her.

The knowledge that Myuri could turn everything upside down if things took a dangerous turn helped Col stay calm and confident. That in turn should help them reach a resolution that would not necessitate her intervention.

And what made him happiest was that she did not oppose the fact he would be quite literally putting his life on the line for these negotiations.

While that most likely meant was she was confident in her ability to protect him, Col also believed that meant…she trusted him.

“C’mon, don’t make that face,” she said to him. “You can survive this much.”

On Grant’s suggestion, Col placed a thick plank of wood underneath his priest’s habit. He also wore a metal helm, the sort prospectors used, and he looked nothing like a priest boldly on his way to a negotiation.

After Myuri put the finishing touches on his outfit by tying the strap under his chin, she gave him a bold hug, then headbutted him in the chest and laughed.

“They’re here!” shouted the person keeping watch at the bottom of the cliff, and the very last of the drowsiness in the air vanished in a puff.

“I’ll cut down every arrow that comes your way,” Myuri assured him.

It was heartening to hear, and he nodded. But he did not mention that her words made him think of a hound catching a stick with its mouth.

He took a deep breath, then stepped toward the edge of the cliff to show himself to those below.

Col knew he was not suited for this role, but he needed the experience, so his nerves did not rattle him during the ecumenical council.

He thought back on what it was like to yell at Myuri as he shouted to the people below, “My name is Tote Col!”

Below him were seven men.

Four of them were forest dwellers, and the other three were bound members of Col’s company.

The forest dwellers were clad in furs, not in a display of wealth, nor was it an ancient way of showing ownership of the land. It was likely simply because they could not procure fabric.

One of them was an old man who looked like a hermit. He was the one who spoke up.

“My name is Gazet. I am the head of the ancient village of Fornan.”

There was no village with that name on the prince-elector’s map.

But Col did not point that out. Instead, he replied, “Release our men. We are not your enemy.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Why not?”

“You stand upon our ancestral land.”

Old man Gazet stroked his long beard and continued.

“In truth, we do not want to do this, either. But we have nowhere else to go. We must take a stand and protect our land. We must fight to show that this land is ours for the sake of our ancestors. If not…”

Gazet stared straight at Col.

“Then we will have to return to a life of vagrancy.”

His voice had a tenacity that was born from purpose.

It didn’t seem believable that an armed band carrying the prince-elector’s standard were just here on a leisurely excursion. The natural thing to assume would be these strangers were here to evict squatters.

And it seemed the forest dwellers were aware they were living here without legitimate claims. In that sense, their hostage taking and uncompromising attitudes was perfectly logical.

If the intruders were exterminators who would not take no for an answer, then they could whittle down their enemy’s numbers by taking hostages, and even if they had to ultimately leave the forest, and any ransom they could get would pay their way for a time, at least.

And if the intruders showed willingness to negotiate, hostages were a perfect bargaining chip.

The most important thing to avoid now was showing any weakness.

Col carefully chose his words to avoid escalating the situation.

“You will release the hostages in exchange for a deed from the prince-elector, is that correct?”

“You are smart. I respect that.”

At the very least, the hostages did not seem to have been subject to violence.

That meant the next thing Col had to mind was how much basis their claim had.

While Col personally wanted to come to a compromise with them, if the prince-elector yielded to the illegal residents’ baseless claims, then he would undermine the authority he had just started rebuilding.

“I understand your request, but we have never heard of a village called Fornan.”

The carefully maintained hidden stream made it clear they had been here longer than a handful of years.

If they had lived here for decades, then Col had a different option, even if their claim was absurd.

“However, if you accept the prince-elector’s rule, pay him taxes, and pledge your loyalty to him as his subjects, then it is perfectly possible that you will receive his protection.”

Especially since they wanted to build a road through here, Col imagined the prince-elector would gladly bring Gazet and his people under his wing.

It was likely an unexpected, yet welcome conclusion for those who lived in the forest illegally.

Grant, standing off to the side behind Col, gave a little sigh—most likely from a sense of relief, seeing where this conversation was leading.

Gazet, however, replied, “We cannot do that.”

Despite the distance and the cliff between them, Col felt the power in his gaze.

Col did his best to put strength into his voice so Gazet could not sense his shock.

“The prince-elector is wise. He is not the sort to enact tyranny. Or have you already pledged your loyalty to a different lord?”

The prince-elector did say the rulership over this land was ambiguous.

It was not unusual for several lords to claim ownership over the same piece of land in borderland areas.

“That is not the case.”

Col paused. “Then I do not understand,” he said. “Why?”

Did that mean they wanted to live freely in the forest, outside of anyone’s control?

There were characters like that in the stories Myuri loved. Green Hood was a good example.

But that was a story.

Very rarely, there were villages who aided lords who met with disaster on their travels and earned themselves an exemption from taxes, but it was virtually unheard of for those exemptions to go beyond that.

Once rulers acknowledged the full independence of one town or village, then there would be no end to it, and society would be thrown into disorder and chaos.

Someone had to set an example and rule.

Much in the way God showed them what was right.

“We do not want to be hostile toward the prince-elector,” Gazet said. “We would like you to pretend that we were never here, and that you never saw us.”

“What?”

“We will pay tribute, though we do not have much else beyond furs or honey. In exchange, leave our ancestral lands and leave us be. No one should enter this land, as it has been since the time of our forefathers. We do not exist.”

“………”

Col did not understand Gazet’s request. What most confused him was that it seemed Gazet himself understood that his demands were absurd.

Somewhere behind him, Grant impatiently ran his hand over his beard in irritation, and Myuri glared warily at the bottom of the cliff.

And if they were to build a road through here, ignoring their existence was fundamentally impossible.

In this day and age, even the old spirits of the forest had no choice but to live in human society.

“…Spirits?” Col murmured, and the dots connected in his mind. “Could it be…”

Col inhaled deeply, reached under his shirt and pulled out the wooden plank, then tossed it to the ground.

Both Myuri and Grant were shocked; Gazet, too, stared with wide eyes.

“I’m coming to you,” Col said. He turned to one of Klevend’s men, who was standing and waiting nearby a few paces away. “The rope.”

“Huh?”

Col pointed to the coiled rope and repeated, “Lower the rope.”

The man looked at Col, then to Grant, and finally gave in and did as ordered. Col grabbed on to it and clumsily made his way down the cliff.

His back was exposed, and the way he slowly descended made him an easy target. He felt the rope sway not long afterward, and down came Myuri, like magic.

There was only one rope, yet somehow she managed to overtake him, and paused below him. She held the rope in her left hand, and her unsheathed sword in her right.

“What are you doing, Brother?!”

He ignored the little knight’s rage-filled shout, and steadily made his way down the rope.

She descended with him, but he could tell from her demeanor that she was not happy with him.

Ultimately, Gazet and his people shot no arrows at him, and Col safely reached the bottom of the cliff.

He scarcely had time to lift his head by the time Grant and the others began to descend after him.

Col did not wait for them—rather, he did not want them to hear what he wanted to talk about, and that was why he came down in the first place. He hurried toward the astonished Gazet.

Gazet and his people were able to capture veteran hunters, yet they showed little interest in driving them away by force.

Plus, while Col thought this would be a genuine negotiation, all they had brought to the table were ridiculous demands.

Gazet and his people did not think they would be taking anything home that would benefit them.

That was because—

“You’ve come here to buy time, haven’t you?” Col asked.

“Huh?”

It was Myuri who interjected.

Gazet and his people held their breath.

“You’ve been pursued as heretics, have you not?”

When Gazet caught on, his eyes went wide, and his surrounding men, who had been watching thus far, suddenly turned a hostile eye to Col.

Their demands were unreasonable not because they were fools. They were deliberately drawing out the negotiations, buying their allies time to escape.

Because no one would side with them.

Not even God.

The situation they were in meant they could not even rely on God, and they were reeling in a very thin lifeline.

Col stared into Gazet’s blue eyes.

Their clothes were shabby, and they wore all those furs because they could not buy fabric. The hardships they faced deepened the wrinkles in their hands.

People could not fight without support.

The first thing they spoke of was the land.

That, if anything, was not made up.

Their ancestral lands.

And what sort of myth was it that lived on in the land of their forebears?

“Have you ever heard of the tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear?”

Gazet was not the only one—the other men accompanying him looked at Col with wide eyes.

Perhaps they were heretics.

But they were not evil.

“So you are here to hunt heretics…,” Gazet murmured. The other men held their weapons at the ready.

Everyone who followed Grant down the cliff notched arrows into their bowstrings.

Col waved his hand high to block their sight, then turned to Gazet and said, “No. We came here because of the story of the Moon-Hunting Bear.”

Fornan was the name of a mysterious village, one that was not even on the very detailed map the prince-elector referred to for governance. And the land they called their ancestral land was, curiously enough, a part of the area where the astronomer estimated the moon had fallen.

Gazet continued to stare at Col, unmoving and unblinking, but Col turned to the people behind him.

“Bake some bread.”

“I’m sorry?” Grant asked in reply, a hint of anger in his voice, but Col immediately turned back to Gazet.

“Let us break bread. I think we should be able to have a conversation.”

Col sensed bewilderment and frustration from behind him, while Gazet and his people exuded confusion.

They looked like foxes just freed from a trap.

That was where the suggestion of bread came from.

Gazet at last closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

He then stepped toward the hostages and undid their bindings with his own hand.

“I will trust you and not beg for my life.”

Col only smiled, but Myuri glared at him, and Grant made a show of the way he scratched his head. Though all was well, since it ultimately went well, they both surely had plenty of words for him as the ones shouldering responsibility and safety.

But Grant soon turned around to the top of the cliff and commanded, “Bake bread!” Despite the many perplexed cries of “What?” he shouted, “Just shut up and do it!”

Myuri sheathed her blade and showed Col mercy by doing no more than stomping on his foot.

Before anything else, however, the hostages were checked for injuries by the waterfall basin.

This was a thick forest far away from civilization.

Not even God’s watchful eye reached this place; the only thing they could trust in were their own eyes and instincts.

CHAPTER THREE

The bread, baked on the spot, lacked volume, but there were many stories in the scripture that included guests being welcomed with unleavened bread.

Col tore a hunk off the freshly baked bread and offered it to Gazet, who then tore pieces to hand to his people.

“The village of our ancestors was given to the Moon-Hunting Bear to quell the cataclysm,” Gazet said before partaking in the bread.

It seemed he wanted to make a point of saying it was not the food that encouraged him to talk.

“At the very least, that is how the story has been passed down through our people. Before this, we long lived on the road, wandering for many years with no destination,” he said, then absentmindedly bit into the bread. The young men waiting behind him did the same, albeit a bit perplexed. They were clearly keeping their teeth clenched.

It was likely because bread made from wheat was not something they could often eat while living in the forest.

“According to the tales, our village sits at the bottom of that lake.”

That was what made this their ancestral land.

There were too many coincidences for this to be a fanciful story fabricated by those who lived illegally in these woods just to lay claim to some land.

“…You also know the story of the Moon-Hunting Bear?”

The look on Gazet’s face was unreadable.

He looked upset, somewhat obsequious, yet at the same time, hopeful.

Col could understand why. It was like meeting someone at the end of an unbelievably long journey who knew the same stories from your homeland.

Scarcely anyone in this day and age knew the legend of the Moon-Hunting Bear.

“It’s said the Moon-Hunting Bear brought down the moon it chased right here, centuries ago, in the time of the ancient empire. There is a chiliarch’s log from the time detailing the incident.”

“………”

Gazet stared in astonishment, and the young men behind him gawked.

The way they reacted told Col that perhaps they did not fully believe the legend was true.

At the same time, customs and traditions were not easily abandoned, and some kind of support was needed to come to terms with a disturbing history.

Even if that meant explaining their vagrant lifestyle with a tale of offering their old village to a lofty god.

“Th-then…Could that mean…the tales we were told are…?”

Though Gazet’s pleading gaze filled Col with the urge to nod in response, he shook his head.

Grant and the other hunters were watching.

They lived in Wobern and led simple lives, but possessed strong faith, befitting a people who lived in harsh environments. Canaan had even gone on the road to bless the local villages’ altars at the behest of the local priests.

As the Twilight Cardinal, Col had to be careful in how he acted toward potentially heretical topics.

“That, I do not know. But while some tales are baseless fabrications, some have a basis in history. At the very least, I believe this tale is the latter. According to those who manage mines, the entire area around the lake went through major geographic changes. Whether that was caused by the Moon-Hunting Bear is something I cannot say either way, due to God’s teachings, but perhaps the tale that your ancestors’ village lies at the bottom of the lake…”

Might be true is what he did not say outright, but the sentiment reached Gazet’s ears nonetheless.

“Goodness…I can hardly believe…,” Gazet said, as tears spilled from his eyes. Various emotions flowed out, like a sudden downpour.

They must have felt ashamed because of the myth that hung over their people, no matter where they went. The prouder they were of their lineage, the colder the looks they received from other people.

But it was that legend that supported them throughout their time of hardship as homeless vagrants. They were proud they had given up their village to the Moon-Hunting Bear in order to quell cataclysms across the world.

Even if Col thought that was a total lie, it was still something they carried with them.

And now, a stranger had just told them it was not a complete lie.

Even if the Moon-Hunting Bear did not truly exist, the land of their ancestors still, indeed, existed.

Gazet wiped the tears from his eyes, adjusted his spot in his seat, and sat up straight.

The way he did so suggested to Col that, perhaps, he was not as old as his looks suggested him to be.

“I’ve made up my mind,” he said. “Even if I am not doing so to save the world, I will still serve as a foundation for my people, as my ancestors once did.” He planted both hands on the ground and looked up at Col. “O man of the Church, not once did your God listen to our plight, but you are different. I ask this of you, because I see you can offer us much. In exchange for my life, I ask that you help my people.”

Behind him, the other men quickly planted their hands on the ground. Perhaps they, too, had been prepared to act as bait.

Grant ran a hand over his beard impatiently, and Myuri twisted uncomfortably. But Col was ready to live up to the name of the Twilight Cardinal.

The one who brought hope to the people, who brought dawn to the night.

“You can count on me.”

When they heard his reply, Gazet and his people bowed their heads deeply.

“What are you doing?!”

That was the first thing Grant said to Col when they returned to the top of the cliff.

Though rough-hewn they were, these mountain dwellers were indeed disciples of the Church.

If Gazet and his people were heretics being pursued by the Church, then Grant and the other hunters believed it would be their job to turn their arrows on them without a second thought.

Or, more practically, perhaps they believed allowing heretical fugitives to remain in the forest would prove to be a major obstacle in their plan to build a road leading south.

“They clearly are not bad people. Believing in the myth of the Moon-Hunting Bear does not immediately make them heretics. The village you are from, Mister Grant, must also have a folktale or two that are not written in the scripture, no?”

“W-well, yes, but…” Grant flinched, but he quickly continued sourly, “But our village has never been branded heretical.”

“Correct. In the same way, there are plenty of examples of those who were once deemed heretics, but later forgiven. I would like to negotiate with the prince-elector and arrange for Mister Gazet and his people to be dealt with appropriately.”

Grant was at a loss for words for a moment, but he finally came to grips with the conversation.

“You accept these heretics? Aren’t you supposed to be fighting the unlawfulness of the Church?”

What Grant said was correct, but there was always room for interpretation in the scripture.

Col then glanced briefly at Myuri.

“Please, calm down. God created everything in this world, including the Moon-Hunting Bear.”

“………”

Grant must have found reasoning was a little far-fetched because he did give Col a sour glare, but he ultimately sighed and looked away.

“…You’ll have to explain this to the prince-elector yourself.”

“Of course.”

Grant scratched his head then left to discuss what was happening next with the other hunters.

Col’s gaze turned to Gazet, who had let himself be captured as a representative of his people.

He presently sat at the edge of the lake and stared out over the water.

“Do you really think that old man’s village is at the bottom of the lake?” Myuri asked.

“If it is, then there’s likely no evidence left. It’s a terribly old tale, and the prospectors said that this lake originally existed farther upstream.”

The clogged valleys overflowed countless times, broke down, then eventually settled in the arrangement they saw in the present day.

In that case, even if the original village had indeed sunk to the bottom of the lake, not a single trace of it was left.

“What I wonder about the most is what he said about quelling a catastrophe.”

“Do you believe that?” Myuri asked.

She was, of course, not asking about whether he believed the Moon-Hunting Bear existed.

Because the one talking was a wolf girl, after all.

“They’re on the bear’s side, right? Even though that thing itself was the cause of catastrophe?”

Though Myuri’s language was not always kind, rarely was her tone barbed.

In her eyes, the Moon-Hunting Bear was the fated foe of all the wolves that lived in that ancient era—a heinous being.

The way she looked at Col told him, more eloquently than her words ever could, the bear had to be the cause of any catastrophe, not the thing to quell it.

“Of course, trying events are often positively reframed with the power of faith. By looking at the disaster their ancestors went through not as simple bad luck or tragedy, but reframing it as something in service of something greater likely gives them solace. In other words—”

“Raison d’être.”

Col was shocked by her sudden use of a difficult word, but Myuri only shrugged her thin shoulders.

“I don’t think that’s it. All that bear did was destroy the world.”

The Moon-Hunting Bear story that Col knew, too, gave him the impression the bear was the unfair god of a pagan religion.

It rampaged through the world as an avatar of violence and destruction, then suddenly vanished one day, like a child grown bored of their toys.

“Worshipping that bear is wrong. That’s why you need to wake that old man up. Isn’t that the kind of job you were dreaming about, Brother?”

Even if the first half of what she said came a place of deep, bitter resentment at the thought of someone worshipping that terrible bear, the latter half was said to spite him.

It seemed she still held a grudge against him for constantly lecturing her, for making her listen to him explain scripture verses for hours on end.

“I suppose. If Gazet and his people were to offer prayer at the Church, even just in form only, then we can do something about their heretical allegations. Having the help of people who know the land when we build a road through here would be a big help.”

“They were shocked when you went down the cliff like that.”

Ultimately, Gazet and his people turned out to have good hearts.

But if they were not, then they would have put several arrows in his back…which was Col’s initial thought, but he reconsidered.

“Everything will work out as long as I have you with me, no?”

Myuri’s face flipped between joy and vexation in an instant. Then she smacked his arm hard.

“You just think you can get away with it by sweettalking me?”

“I meant every word.”

He would never have exposed himself to that kind of danger otherwise.

Myuri still seemed discontent, but as she stared at Gazet lingering by the lake’s edge, she said, “I guess you were kind of cool when you were acting all bold and everything.”

She did not look at him for a long while, her lips folded in a pout.

Col smiled faintly and replied, “I’m a Twilight Cardinal in training, after all.”

The little knight with the wolf’s crest turned to look at him and sighed.

It was as though she was complaining that her master was an utter fool.

“You’ll act just as bold in front of the king, right?”

“I’ll be fine. We have Heir Klevend.”

Myuri’s face twisted, as though she had been forced to swallow a bitter herb.

The rumor there were heretics in the forest proved to be true, but Col believed the prince-elector would treat them magnanimously.

And then, they would build a road leading south.

“Our victory is near,” he murmured.

Myuri sighed faintly.

Nearby, a fish created ripples on the placid surface of the lake.

The majority of Grant’s expedition remained by the lake, while Col, Myuri, and a few guides took Gazet to Wobern.

Their journey back was much easier, either because they had already walked these paths, or because Col himself had built up some stamina and muscle. The bases set up along the route were also a big help.

Gazet also seemed comfortable on the rugged terrain due to harsh life in the forest, and he turned out to be a better walker than Myuri.

Along the way, he told them bits and pieces of his people’s history.

Gazet himself was born in a village close to the sea. It was a desolate area, likely due to the salt, and because it was largely abandoned, there was plenty of space for outsiders to settle down. Gazet’s ancestors had found that place.

But since Gazet and his people carefully stuck to the tales and traditions of their ancestors, they had always been treated as outsiders in that land.

It had not been an easy life, and they suffered in occasional clashes with the locals, but Gazet said their lives had been relatively stable.

That all came to an end when inquisitors arrived in the village.

They came to investigate Gazet and his people for revering the Moon-Hunting Bear. Some of them were taken away and never seen again.

Gazet wondered if the locals had grown envious, since his father’s generation had worked hard to cultivate the land and make it fertile again, but there was no way to tell now if that was true or not.

And so they gathered their things and set off. But by this point in time, wars and big battles had mostly become a thing of the past, so large groups of wanderers stood out terribly.

With the inquisitors still trailing them, they ultimately decided to make their way to the land of their ancestors, which they had only heard of in their bedtime stories.

That land had remained a deep forest to this day, a place no one ever entered.

With hope and trepidation in their hearts, they passed through unfamiliar lands, and when they finally reached the forest their people once left long ago, they were greeted with a silver lining.

There, in the land of their ancestors, was a fellow descendant of their forefathers, living a meager life on the land.

It was thanks to this person, who had the wisdom needed to live in the forest, that Gazet and the others managed to build a small village and survive without anyone going hungry.

At the end of his story, Gazet only had one last thing to add—all they wanted was to keep living a quiet life.

Since Col and his party were the ones who wanted to put a road through a land that had long been untouched, they were the intruders, in a way. But Prince-Elector Duran, too, had suffered his own hardships, so there was a good chance that he would sympathize with Gazet and his people.

And Col planned on taking Gazet’s side for the most part. Their time together on the road convinced him. The forest dwellers did not seem heretical to the point that an inquisitor was necessary.

There were plenty of people in this day and age who believed in myths and legends that had been passed down. Even in the holiest of cities, there were still strange traditions that had survived since ancient times.

Even the Church itself had recently shown more flexibility when it came to tolerating pagan beliefs.

For example, ancient local deities lived on in the Church’s name by being changed into saints, angels, or spirits.

And so Col proposed that avenue for Gazet and his people, but Gazet did not say anything. He did not shake his head, either, though.

Gazet knew, of course, what he needed to do to survive.

But precisely because he had survived winters by digging up bitter tree roots, softening the bark in water until it became edible, that he had principles he refused to compromise. Convincing the rest of his people to go along with all this might not prove to be easy.

Plus, Col worried how the people of Wobern, like Grant, would receive them. Their simple faith also made them very stubborn.

He was optimistic, though—if they relied on Canaan, who had gone around all the villages in the Wobern area and received plenty of their veneration, then they would be able to manage something.

Those thoughts rolled in his mind as they walked; they arrived back in Wobern three days earlier than their outward journey took, perhaps because of the smaller company they took this time.

They had suddenly returned to civilization after being in uninhabited lands, so the view of the city below from the ridge felt terribly nostalgic.

“So this…is Wobern,” Gazet murmured.

“Yes,” Col replied. “We want to build a road from this city to the south, following the lake.”

Col told Gazet about the plan along the way. If he could show them that it would also be beneficial to them somehow, then he expected the prince-elector to compromise regarding their faith.

“But the area around the lake is far, and in a deep forest. Your cooperation and knowledge of the land would be a huge help to us.”

“Hmm…”

Myuri then interjected, “If we build a road, then we can make that stupid Church cry like babies.”

Gazet gave a troubled smile at that.

Between Gazet and the Church, the girl with wolf’s blood in her veins would choose to side with Gazet, even if she hated the Moon-Hunting Bear.

“We never once thought of fighting against that deplorable Church,” Gazet said. “As we ran from them, it felt as though their arms were long enough to reach anywhere. For decades, we’ve lived in fear of every rustle in the brush.”

Inquisitors upheld the Church’s authority from the shadows.

Gazet and his people had no backing. It must have taken a considerable amount of courage and effort just to escape.

“I am able to fight against them now because I have the support of many, and I still feel like I’m in a dream now,” Col said.

Gazet’s shoulders shuddered, and he sighed.

“I understand that you are a follower of the very same Church, yet your position is different. And you are very open-minded about ‘spirits.’ But will this prince-elector show us the same mercy?”

“I believe so.”

It was Col’s job to convince the prince-elector to do just that.

Gazet looked at him, and just as Col thought he would reproach him for not giving a firm yes, he looked at him with a defeated gaze.

“I knew we would not be able to hide in the woods forever,” he said. “I believe our time has come to give up on one thing so that we may gain something else, much like how our ancestors gave up the village.”

That was either the hard life they led in the forest without anyone’s help, or the pride in their ancestors for giving up the village in order to quell a world catastrophe.

“By the way, was the reason why the bear wanted your village ever passed down?” Myuri asked.

“No,” Gazet replied. “I did not even know until you told me that it stopped the imperial army’s march north during the time of the ancient empire.”

“Not even the one who taught you and your people how to survive in the forest?” Col asked.

“No…I don’t think so.”

Gazet mentioned that a lone descendant of his ancestors, one who inherited the same legends, lived in the forest before they returned. Col personally wished he could speak with that person, but they were apparently an ascetic hermit who roamed the forest, never settling down in one place.

Gazet and his people invited the hermit to live with them in the village time and time again, but were always turned down.

When he told them this, Myuri impatiently bit at her lip, as though wanting to say something. She must have thought that perhaps the hermit was not human. But a nonhuman living out of sight would have had no obvious reason to invite Gazet and his people to join them in the forest.

“You did tell us there are a few families who have passed down the myth of the Moon-Hunting Bear,” Col said.

“There are,” Gazet replied. “It lives on as an old tale used to scare children in a village south, past the forest. They were shocked by our presence, too. I believe that after our ancestors gave up the village, opinions were split as to where to go. And my people sought a new land far away.”

Myuri always took in those sort of adventure tales with dreamy eyes, but she had been serious throughout the entire trip.

It must have been partially because the Moon-Hunting Bear was involved, and partially because their history reminded her of the search for the new continent.

“And the hermit who led us to the forest?” Gazet continued. “He told us that when he was training at his abbey, he one day had a spiritual vision that led him to the forest. Perhaps this God of yours brought him to the forest to help me and my people.”

Gazet smiled dryly, but the way he spoke told Col he knew the teachings of the Church. It seemed the hermit who lived in the forest had bestowed upon them proper teachings of the Church.

But it seemed not to have come from a place of faith, but as a way to prepare themselves against an inquisitor’s raid.

One needed to know their enemy in order to fight them.

“But I am still not convinced,” Gazet murmured as they set off from the ridge and gazed down at the sight of Wobern below. “If our bear stopped an army marching from the south, then would that not be to protect this land? And yet the legend does not live on here.”

The legend that had been passed down through Gazet’s people was that they gave up their village in order to save the world from catastrophe.

If that catastrophe was the ancient imperial army, then that act would have saved the city of Wobern. But no one knew that story in the city.

Col thought of a few possibilities: either Wobern was heartless, or their interpretation of the story was incorrect. Or perhaps when the Duran family took control of the city, the legend was lost in the chaos.

“Well, a boy we know is currently turning the king’s library upside down, so he might’ve learned something by now,” Myuri said.

“………”

Gazet sighed and simply walked off.

When they were approaching the town, Col felt as though it somehow seemed livelier than when they had left.

Perhaps it was because summer had finally come to this region of high elevation and slow-moving seasons. That, or it was because Col had been spending so much time deep in the forest, far from human activity.

But when they entered the town, he reached a different conclusion.

“I’m not imagining it,” he remarked. “It is a lot more active.”

“Yeah, and…” Myuri’s sharp eyes rested on the eaves of a tavern. “There are soldiers here with emblems I’ve never seen before.”

The emblem of Prince-Elector Duran was that of a deer, a sword, and a shield, befitting a mercenary king who made the mountain his stronghold.

In contrast, the people who stood under the eaves of the tavern, taking out their arms and armor while excitedly discussing their make, wore emblems bearing eagles and lilies.

“It doesn’t seem too disquieting…,” Col remarked.

“They’re probably from Winfiel,” Myuri said.

“Then they would have sheep on them somewhere.”

Myuri huffed, likely because none had emblems of wolves.

“Anyway, let’s head to the manor for now.”

With Gazet in tow, staring in astonishment at the lively city, they made their way to the manor they were borrowing from the prince-elector.

The prince-elector lived in one section of the spacious grounds dedicated to Wobern’s public facilities. The manor they were borrowing also sat on these grounds. It was also home to the tower in which Amaretto stargazed, the public council hall, and the buildings where the notaries public gathered. A great many people came and went throughout the day.

So while there were a considerable number of people around even when they were dealing with the eclipse prophecy and the public opinion of the prince-elector was low, it was clearly much livelier now.

Who stood out the most among all the people were those clad in what some would describe as knightly armor.

They all wore matching cloaks decorated with the same coat of arms over their full plate and walked boldly along the paths; Myuri stared at them with jealousy and envy in her eyes.

Col skillfully dodged the wolf girl’s requests for a suit of armor as they made their way back to the manor. There, they found Vadan and his crew.

“Huh? Where’s everyone else?” Myuri asked.

The manor was big, and Klevend’s men were occupying a few rooms as well.

But the ones loitering in the parlor were Vadan and his crew—many of them wandering around in mouse form since no one else was around.

“Everyone’s at the banquet hall,” Vadan replied. “Didja see how lively the town was?”

“A banquet?!”

Myuri’s eyes sparkled, and Vadan grinned.

“Prince-Elector Duran’s been in a great mood lately.”

Col was sure he was having a much better time than when he was agonizing over the fall of his authority, yet he did not seem the type to party over feasts.

“Does this have to do with all the knights with unfamiliar emblems walking around?” Myuri asked.

“Yeah, it does. The most powerful elector in the empire…Gobrea, I think? Anyway, that guy sent over a special envoy. And Prince-Elector Berlind himself walked all the way here. They’re having a great time out there at the welcome banquet.”

The leader of the mouse crew who set off across the seas in search of freedom, of course, paid no respect to the nobles’ station.

“Once they find out that you’re back, they’re gonna be all over you with hospitality. Hope you’re ready.”

The reason Klevend remained in Wobern was precisely for that reason.

The job of those of blessed with high status was not to work with their hands, but to uphold their image for the people around them.

That thought just made Col even more tired; Myuri smacked his back in an attempt to cheer him up.

“By the way, is Archivist Canaan at the banquet?”

“Canaan? Oh, he’s probably at the church.”

There were very few people as faithful as Canaan, so that was not inherently surprising to hear, but it was not quite yet time for mass.

“Y’know how he is, dealing with big names at the church. If you want him, we can go get ’im for ya.”

“Er…Yes, please.”

Big names at the church? Col wondered as he made his request, and Vadan gave a light nod before glancing briefly at his crew.

“Sounds like you got something out of your trip to the forest,” Vadan said, turning his gaze to the courtyard.

Immediately after they arrived at the manor, Gazet said he wanted to cleanse himself and went to bathe at the well, either because he was daunted by the magnificent building, or because it had something to do with his own dignity as the representative of Fornan.

“I suppose you could say that we made some progress with our plan to build a road,” Col replied.

After sharing the details on Gazet and his people, Vadan seemed confounded by the story of the Moon-Hunting Bear. When he heard about how the village had been given up to quell the world’s catastrophe, he said the same thing as Myuri: that the bear itself was the catastrophe.

“To tell you what we’ve been up to,” Vadan began. “Ilenia’s still in Ahberg contacting that master merchant of hers. In the meanwhile, all kinds of goods have come in as gifts from the kingdom through the Ahberg merchants.”

“I saw all kinds of foods at the shops in town,” Myuri said. Of course, the hungry wolf pup was keeping a careful eye on those things.

“The town’s gotten way livelier because of it, and it’s gotten a lot easier to get real good food, too.”

The boss mouse gave a wicked smile, and Col pretended not to notice.

“Feels pretty great out there. You got more people goin’ to church, and people’s opinions of you shot way up.”

“I’m not entirely sure if that makes me happy.”

“Well, there is someone out there who’s really helpin’ with how people think of you.”

Col furrowed his brow when he saw the way Vadan grinned; just as Myuri was reaching for the raisins set out on the parlor table, she turned her attention to outside the room.

“Oops. Here comes the culprit.”

A moment later the mice heard the footsteps, then scurried into the gaps in the wall.

When Col at last heard the footsteps for himself, the door flung open.

“Master Col!” Canaan, cheeks flushed a rosy red and completely out of breath, rushed into the room. “I’m so glad to see you safe!”

“Thanks be to God.”

“Of course! And I’m glad to see Miss Myuri is well.”

Seeing Canaan so overjoyed at their reunion made Myuri like she was the older one.

“Archivist Canaan, my apologies, but we have an urgent job for you.”

“A job? Oh, if this is about the palace library, then I’m afraid I didn’t really find anything of note…”

They had Canaan look through the Duran family library to see if any forgotten legends from Wobern lived on in the books.

“It’s not that. We met a group of people who have inherited the legend of the Moon-Hunting Bear and kept it alive.”

Myuri pointed out the window in concert with what Col said. In the courtyard, beyond the open window, was Gazet, praying as he doused himself in water. When Canaan saw him, his expression immediately tensed.

“It would be a bit complicated to explain their circumstances,” Col continued. “But he and his people once lived in a very distant land but were chased out of it by inquisitors since they kept alive the legend of the Moon-Hunting Bear. After many complications, they finally returned to the home of the legend, or so I’ve been told.”

Canaan dipped his head in understanding.

“So you would like to preserve their way of life when we build the road through their land, but we would need God’s good graces due to the issue of faith.”

“Yes, precisely.”

That Canaan was so quick to catch on made Col happy.

Myuri seemed unimpressed, but Canaan was not too cheery at the same time, either.

He narrowed his eyes slightly and turned them to Gazet.

“He is not a heretic in your eyes then, Master Col.”

“No. I simply got the sense that he values the traditions that have been passed down. There is also a hermit who supports their lifestyle, and this person seems to have some understanding of the Church’s teachings.”

“A hermit?”

Col told him this hermit once practiced at an abbey, then moved to the forest after receiving a prophetic vision, and Canaan closed his eyes. He was shuffling the elements of the situation around in his mind.

Canaan was not simply well-versed in theology, but he also had a very deep knowledge of how the Church functioned as an organization.

When he finally opened his eyes, he quietly stated, “That is reassuring. In fact, we’ve been somewhat concerned about the forest dwellers and their situation as well.”

“What?”

“That is because of those who came to the city just as you left.”

Canaan’s tone was unusually deprecative, and that shocked Col.

It was Vadan who wore a faint, but cruel smile.

“Told you. Prince-Elector Duran’s been on top of the world.”

Canaan gave a little troubled smile of his own when Vadan said that, but he clearly did not argue.

“Soon after you and the rest of the expedition left, the city received a surprised guest.”

“Captain Vadan told me,” Col replied. “A special envoy from Prince-Elector Gobrea, and Prince-Elector Berlind himself.”

“Precisely. Prince-Elector Berlind, especially, is a man of staunch faith.”

“He’s at the church from dawn to dusk, ain’t he?” Vadan said.

Canaan smiled dryly. “He’s well-learned, and my debates with him are fruitful and very worthwhile. I have never been so vexed by the passage of time before.”

It was then that Col finally realized Canaan was not wearing his regular clothes, but a priest’s habit, seemingly girded for battle like the knights outside with their armor. Since he was at the church, he must have indeed been praying and debating theology with Prince-Elector Berlind.

“Considering that is the sort of person he is, he has reportedly supported you from the very beginning, Master Col. However, standing up against the forces of the Church head-on has always come with plenty of danger on the mainland, so all his vassals have maintained a careful watch. But with the incident in Estatt, and now with Prince-Elector Duran, it was inevitable.”

They were not necessarily quick to act because they had seized a sudden opportunity, but because they had been waiting.

“And so I would say it is not a coincidence that Prince-Elector Gobrea sent over a special envoy.”

The snowball called the Twilight Cardinal had fallen from the peak of the mountain and was now threatening to cause an avalanche.

Perhaps they had determined they needed to leap on this bandwagon as soon as possible. Especially before any of the other prince-electors they were competing with could beat them to the punch.

But if that were true, then the meaning behind what Canaan said earlier made more and more sense.

Their movement was beginning to gain momentum, just like Hyland said.

To the point that those who had been watching on in silence thus far were now ready to leap on board.

“They began discussing removing everyone and everything in the way to open the road south as soon as possible, didn’t they?” Col asked.

Myuri looked at him somewhat curiously.

It was as though she was asking him if that was not the case before they even set off for the lake.

But Vadan’s wry smile was proof it was not.

“They’d call this smooth sailing, but ships are surprisingly weak when they go against the wind.”

“You said Prince-Elector Duran is being egged on, did you not?”

The smuggling captain shrugged, and Canaan’s lips drew into a thin line.

It was a good thing that Col had more allies in his fight against the Church.

But while allies could occasionally act as a favorable wind that pushed him forward, they could also become turbulent waters that caused him to lose his footing—this was a lesson he learned in Estatt.

“We had our own debates after you departed, Master Col. Prince-Elector Gobrea and Prince-Elector Berlind, especially, can put even greater things in motion.”

“Soldiers and resources.”

Canaan nodded.

“When Prince-Elector Duran elaborated on local circumstances, they very strongly insisted we act right away.”

They were powerful rulers who had their means at hand and would not hesitate to use them.

What did these people think when they heard the story from Duran?

“And they concluded a village suspected of heresy should be razed, right?” Col asked.

“…Yes.”

As he looked at the way Canaan stood there, Col realized something.

The reason Canaan had spent every moment with Berlind, to the point that Vadan was laughing at him, was not because he was happy to share their fervent faith together.

Canaan was doing all he could to rein in a horse that was champing at the bit.

He must have been both implicitly and explicitly telling Prince-Elector Berlind the kindhearted Twilight Cardinal did not desire any bloodshed.

Though he was done bathing himself, Gazet remained kneeling before the well, his eyes closed.

He must have believed the way he behaved would determine the fate of his village.

While he was partially correct, he was also incorrect.

The world was cold and merciless, and big to the point that it scared even the arrogant Myuri.

It heeded not the little lives of the people that lived in it.

People were wrapped up in the grandiose motions of the world, thus their paths were chosen for them without them knowing.

Some called this fate.

“But regarding the hermit you mentioned earlier, Master Col,” Canaan continued. “I think we can pin our hopes on that. People often misunderstand hermits since they live alone and far from settlements. I believe it would not be all that difficult to show these villagers are not heretics.”

“What about the fact they were once pursued by inquisitors?” Col asked.

“I think they’ll be all right on that front. That the clan managed to leave tells me the inquisitors were not doing much beyond a surface-level investigation. When inquisitors are serious, not even one mouse is allowed to escape their grasp.”

Vadan raised his brows slightly at the metaphor, and when Myuri noticed, she gave a nasty little grin.

“Just in case, I will contact my friends at the Holy See and have them look into anything from that time period. There must be records. If it comes down to it, I can have them destroy the records. Inquisitors are still but one part of the Church—without documentation, it would be as if the incident never happened to begin with.”

Canaan spoke so boldly and decisively that Col could not help but smile in astonishment.

Myuri drew up her shoulders and laughed; Canaan seemed proud, too.

“Corrupted clergy cannot cleanse themselves. Someone must sweep away the dust for them.”

The way Canaan looked at Col made it seem as though he was saying the Twilight Cardinal was the one who was supposed to hold the broom.

“I will head down the mountain immediately and make contact. In the meanwhile, buy us time, Master Col.”

“Of course, I will do what I can.”

Despite his answer, Col was anxious.

That must have shown on his face, because Canaan smiled at him gently.

“Worry not. At the very least, I am certain Prince-Elector Berlind will hang on to every word you say.”

“………”

Canaan smiled so brilliantly, but Col’s smile was taut and tense.

He was afraid to imagine how Canaan might have spoken of him.

“Then we’re gonna need new clothes for grandpa,” Myuri said as she looked at Gazet, who was still cleaning himself in the courtyard.

He was soaked with well water, and even Col, who was not particular about dress at all, knew it would be a problem if he were to appear before the prince-electors in his original clothing.

But “new clothes” came with an even deeper meaning.

That one thing could change the impression he gave, and his fate.

Though as silly as he thought it was, that was how the world worked.

“We will do our best.”

“Yes!”

Canaan replied earnestly to his murmured words, and Myuri seemed somewhat dissatisfied with that.

Col asked Vadan’s crew to contact Duran about his return because Vadan’s advice that if they made a report in person, then they would have to discuss Gazet and his people straight away without any preparation.

As a matter of fact, Prince-Elector Duran had apparently summoned them to his palace immediately after receiving the news of their arrival.

Klevend, in all his consideration, suggested he let them rest first.

While he was impressed with how skilled everyone was, he could not help but sigh when he realized he was now in a position where a simple moment of rest required significant effort on the part of everyone around him.

Afterward, they gave Gazet the general rundown of what was going to happen, took a leisurely meal in the manor, and even dozed off.

That was not the real reason why Col left the manor long after night came, but when he did, he paid a visit to a particular tower on the vast public grounds.

“The moon really did fall, huh?” Amaretto said, somewhat blankly, as she fiddled with her stargazing equipment.

“We’ve not yet found the moon itself, but there is little doubt that is where the legend took place.”

Attached to the stargazing equipment was a half-circular gear and a needle that looked like a giant bow and arrow, plus what looked like a scale. Amaretto read the divisions to which the needle pointed, then wrote down numbers on the paper she had at hand with her quill.

“You said there was some kind of hermit or monk living with the forest people?”

“Yes.”

“Then he must’ve been a part of the monastery that found the chiliarch’s log, or a part of one of the sister monasteries.”

Amaretto placed her quill down, checked the clepsydra, then stood.

It seemed she made her observations at set intervals.

“Let’s go downstairs.”

The room that housed the observation equipment was cramped.

Myuri was enraptured by the sight of the equipment, the eerie glow it gave off in the starlight, but she scrunched up her face at sight of the clustered numbers—it was unlikely she would become an astronomer herself.

“When I was searching for stories of the Moon-Hunting Bear, I also came across a few families that had passed down the myth. They all spoke of the same bear, but the details of the story were all just a little different.”

“He’s always the same piece-of-crap bear though, right?” Myuri asked.

Amaretto shrugged, poured goat milk mixed with honey into a tin cup, and took a sip. She would get sleepy if she ate anything, so that was all she consumed during the night.

A raw onion sat next to her, and when Col heard she would sometimes put sand in her mouth, the two of them got into a heated conversation about the best ways to combat sleepiness, and Myuri looked at him with a frigid stare for that.

“Someone from a family where the legend of the Moon-Hunting Bear survived told me about the monastery that found the chiliarch’s journal. They said one of the monks told them about the book, since it talked about the same strange myth their family passed down. But their family had never been treated like heretics. Even when I visited the monastery, they let me see it without question.”

After the old village of Fornan sunk to the bottom of the water in the ravine, many of those people were said to have set off in search of new land.

While some managed to mesh well with their new homes, some could not, like Gazet’s people, since they treated the legends of their homeland as divine.

That was likely what was happening here.

“Could you tell me the name of this monastery?” Col asked. “Archivist Canaan said he would look into it for us.”

“Of course,” Amaretto replied. “It was a pretty big place, so I bet a great many things have been passed down among the people there.”

She looked around the messy room, found a scrap of paper, and wrote the name of the monastery on it.

“But there’s one thing about what you told me that makes me think,” she continued.

“Hmm?”

“That monk.” She studied the name of the monastery she had just written on the paper. “How did he find the forest?”

“………”

She was right.

The only reason Amaretto had been able to guess the location of the lake was because she had observed the stars. And the span of land included in her guess was rather large, and it was only through the knowledge of the local ruling Duran family that they had been able to narrow it down.

On the other hand, the mountain range that included Wobern was vast, and there had to be plenty of other areas that also fit the bill.

“But I guess that might just be because it’s the closest forest to where all those legends still live on.”

Despite what she said, Amaretto did not seem fully satisfied with that, and that left Col wondering, too. He had a feeling things were proceeding a little too smoothly, but if the stories of the Moon-Hunting Bear were indeed real, then perhaps it was nothing more than coincidence.

Because people were simply discovering the truth for the first time in a long time.

“Bring that monk over next time.”

And Amaretto did not seem particularly fussed about the strange signs.

She said this as she handed over the scrap that had the name of the monastery on it; her tone of voice was just as light as the paper.

If anything, the thought of going there and back through those treacherous mountains to bring the monk here weighed on Col more heavily.

“You look like you don’t want to walk anymore.”

Amaretto noticed what he was thinking and laughed at him.

The day after Col visited Amaretto’s tower, Gazet sat in his chair, back upright, utterly bewildered.

That was entirely because Myuri was busily styling his beard.

He also wore a traveling monk’s habit—something Canaan negotiated with the church to procure and picked out for him—which made him look the part.

“So I—no, the village of Fornan revered the spirit named the Moon-Hunting Bear…That is all I have to say?”

“Yes. At the height of the war with the pagans, many people protected their precious traditions by doing just that. Anything they called a god was then considered a saint, an angel, or a spirit, and holy mountains or sacred springs were places where those saints or angels or spirits created miracles.”

It sounded like splitting hairs, but if everything in this world was created by God, then everything could be described with the language of the scripture.

Col and Canaan had discussed how to represent the people of Fornan to Prince-Elector Duran, and they quickly decided on this course of action.

The Moon-Hunting Bear was an angel, or perhaps a spirit, and since Gazet and his people were using local words to express this, their practices had been mistaken for heresy.

“I wonder if one who rules such a large city would be persuaded by such sophistry.”

The word sophistry made Col’s heart hurt, but he had no choice but to reply.

“Faith starts with form. Unless they decide to reject the sight of you kneeling before the altar anyway, I doubt there will be any problem.”

He had walked across many lands, finally returned to his homeland, and had found momentary peace.

Gazet was more realistic than anyone Col knew.

“I don’t mind either way,” Gazet replied. “I drank mud to survive. I have no qualms with kissing a polished stone floor.”

As Myuri carefully cut Gazet’s beard to an even length, her eyes shone with happiness when she heard that. The rambunctious girl was weak to such pluck.

“Let me ask you again to confirm,” Col began. “How much do you know of God’s teachings?”

“I know of life beyond the forest,” he replied. “I know the gist of it. Master Lehmann—the hermit who gave us guidance in the forest—taught us. But, well, I suppose it will seem a bit inconsistent, like any rural dweller.”

Canaan nodded, mouthing Master Lehmann silently so he would remember.

Gazet did not know if the master had been a member of that monastery, but Canaan said exploring the one Amaretto named and the area around it would give them answers.

Monasteries operated in a mother-daughter structure, so regional abbeys were largely the same way their motherhouses were, and their roster was strictly managed.

Col and Canaan were putting their hopes in this Master Lehmann to be a bulwark when it came to the matter of Gazet and his people being pursued by inquisitors. If the inquisitors ultimately decided to accuse them of heresy, that would be the same as leveling that accusation at the monastery Master Lehmann hailed from, and all its parent organizations.

In short, Col and Canaan were planning to use the Church’s tendency to be easy on their followers to their advantage.

Once Canaan, who had studied the Church as an organization quite a bit, finished listening to Gazet and Col converse, a confident expression crossed his face.

“Even if they are only willing to admit that there is technically nothing wrong with Mister Gazet and his people’s faith, it should be fine. Considering how long they have lived in the forest, I believe they should be generally forgiven for being ignorant of the finer details.”

If anyone else were to say such a thing, they would appear impossibly arrogant, but when it came from Canaan, who had spent his days in a dark library where the sun never reached, it sounded strangely convincing.

“Will this save our village?” Gazet asked, as Myuri stiffened his beard with beef tallow.

As Col was about to nod, he carefully chose his words.

“Your courage will save everyone, Mister Gazet.”

And then they would build a road to the south, which would deal a decisive blow to the Church.

No one would get hurt, and no one would have to be sad.

The elderly forest dweller’s eyes widened, and his shoulders shook with mirth.

After his laughing subsided, he looked down at his gnarled hands with a gentle smile and said, “When I was a child, I would watch my uncle and the other adults as they left the village to meet with the Church. This is how they must’ve felt.”

“That is…” Col trailed off into silence.

Gazet closed his eyes to shake his head, then slowly opened them.

“Even if I do fail, the boys who saw me off will find the same courage that I did.”

Myuri took one step away from Gazet not because she was finished with her preparations, but because she wanted to show respect for his resolve.

“There’s no need to worry,” Canaan said his voice uncharacteristically bright for the conversation. “We have the Twilight Cardinal here with us. He has brought about a number of miracles already.”

He turned to look at Col and beamed. Not long ago Col would have found that look of expectation embarrassing and hard to swallow, but it was not Col who would be accepting it.

It was the Twilight Cardinal.

“The road we wish to build is crucial in our fight against the Church—that we found you and your people along the way must have some significance.”

The reason he did not call it God’s providence was to show a bit of respect for the Moon-Hunting Bear, which they revered.

Gazet stared at Col, then dipped his gaze respectfully.

They heard footsteps from outside the open window, and Vadan’s face appeared on the other side.

“The palace is ready for you.”

Gazet silently stood.

As they approached Prince-Elector Duran’s estate, Col immediately caught on to the rulers’ fervor, which Canaan had told him about.

The knights, wearing the crests of the prince-electors’ houses, lined the side of the road.

“Wow,” Myuri murmured. “I wanna make my order look like this one day.”

The leader of her own knightly order was very easygoing about the entire situation, but Col was too preoccupied with enduring all the stares directed at him.

Though none looked at him with outright hostility, not everyone looked at him with friendly eyes. It wasn’t uncommon to hear stories of mad priests who appeared out of the blue to deceive ruling lords, after all.

That, and they were used to being in the presence of those with status, and most of them seemed to be sizing up the youngster everyone had been talking about.

Today, Col had dressed himself as the Twilight Cardinal before Myuri reminded him to, but he still felt as though that was not enough.

If he were to rouse suspicion here, then anything that would have gone well would immediately go sour.

He had learned looks were truly important and was no longer embarrassed by this outfit.

If there was one thing he still could not get used to in these clothes, it was the way Myuri grinned in delight whenever their eyes met.

“Lord Duran, we have returned.”

They were led into the great hall, and Col placed a hand to his chest to give his greeting in the style of the Church. A formal vassal would take a knee in this situation, but the Twilight Cardinal served no one.

And so Klevend had suggested he use this form of greeting.

Klevend himself was concealing his typical savagery and acted the part of a perfect prince. From his spot in the corner at the long table, he flashed Col a mischievous grin.

Having someone he knew among the crowd was a massive relief for Col.

He exhaled a long, thin breath, and straightened his posture.

“So you are the Twilight Cardinal! Look how young you are!”

The one who stood from his chair was an aging, corpulent old man. A mustache complemented the man’s rosy cheeks.

“Mind your health, Lord Berlind,” said Duran.

“A-ha-ha! Nothing to mind at all—God’s providence takes away all my pain!”

What surprised Col was that he was entirely different from the man he pictured after hearing Canaan’s stories.

A man of staunch faith who was as devoted as Canaan to prayer and passionate theological debates…Col had pictured a man like an ice block carved from a winter mountainside when in fact, Berlind was more like freshly baked bread.

While it was somewhat surprising, it made sense.

Lord Berlind was much too rotund. He needed the help of one of his subordinates to walk. As Col watched him, he was partially convinced.

Because just in the way that any evildoer prayed to God in their dying moments, he had seen plenty of nobles in the hot-spring land of Nyohhira who had overeaten, overdrank, neglected their health until they were ravaged by gout, and finally awakened to God’s teachings.

As Col took a few steps toward him to greet Berlind in return, he extended a friendly hand.

“I’ve heard of you—the great individual sent on God’s behalf. I see! You certainly look the part.”

“You are much too generous with your compliments.”

“Aw, don’t say that!”

Berlind’s hand was just as soft as his face suggested. After exchanging a handshake with Myuri, dressed in her saint’s garb, she offered him a friendly smile in return.

“And is this the person in question?”

Berlind turned his attention to Gazet, the one who seemed more like a priest than anyone present. Gazet gave a deep and silent bow; Berlind did not take one step in his direction, and only hummed.

“Prince-Elector Berlind, I hope you don’t plan on keeping the Twilight Cardinal standing.”

The one who spoke was a man with sharp intellect in his slanted eyes, who looked every bit like a high-ranking official. His clothes looked so sharp they could cut skin, and considering how easily he spoke to Prince-Elector Berlind, that suggested he was the special envoy sent by Prince-Elector Gobrea. Though he was only an envoy, there was no questioning that he himself was a man of status.

“Ah yes, you are right! Come, Twilight Cardinal. Take a seat,” Berlind said, pulling out the chair beside him. Prince-Elector Duran gave a wry smile.

Though he looked the part of a friendly and genial noble man, even someone as dull as Col could tell—the evaluating look he gave Gazet the moment he looked at him was Prince-Elector Berlind’s true self.

His almost-aggressive friendliness was a strategy to win hearts and minds.

Myuri sat on the other side of the prince-elector, sandwiching Col between them. Gazet and Canaan, the former escorted by the latter, stood behind the two of them.

“Now, all the players in our alliance are present at last,” said Prince-Elector Gobrea’s special envoy. Berlind and Duran both nodded with satisfaction.

Alliance?

Myuri was constantly telling Col that his thoughts always showed on his face, so while he did his best to make sure not a single muscle moved, he surveyed the room.

The prince-electors and the envoy showed no intention of explaining themselves. If anything, they continued as though this were a given.

Vadan had said so himself at the manor: Duran was on top of the world.

“Would the three of you mind explaining what’s been happening so far to the Twilight Cardinal? He’s a key player here.”

It was Klevend who spoke up. The reason he spoke with a somewhat rude tone was because it seemed he was playing the part of an ignorant young lad.

They were up in the mountains, far from the Kingdom of Winfiel, and those who sat at this table were all individuals who wielded considerable power.

It must have been much more convenient for him if the others thought of him as a friendly, but slightly dim noble than a sharp, treacherous prince from across the sea.

“Ah, yes. Good grief, what a busy few days it’s been!”

While Duran certainly seemed exhausted when he said that, there was still color to his face, and above all, his voice carried energy.

No shadow of despair hung over him like it had when he chased the eclipse prophecy and ordered a young man off the street to search for his astronomer.

“These past few days,” he continued, “Prince-Elector Berlind and Lord Ziad, who has been given carte blanche to act on behalf of Prince-Elector Gobrea, have been discussing with me what our next steps should be.”

Duran spoke of the other two as if they were old friends; both Berlind and Ziad smiled. When he saw this, a joy he could not fully hide colored his expression.

It made Col wonder if this is what Duran was truly like, but all he had to do was think of history.

The founder of House Duran was the legendary mercenary king.

He was so powerful that no one had been able to conquer Wobern, and so a new, seventh prince-elector seat was created, which no one had planned for, and was then incorporated into the framework of the empire.

With that history in mind, Col could imagine what sort of position House Duran held within the empire.

Even among the seven prince-electors who installed the emperor, he was doubtlessly treated as an outsider.

And now, two powerful people of the prince-elector seat were showing him considerable admiration.

“Both Lord Berlind and Prince-Elector Gobrea have been watching the Twilight Cardinal’s fight against the Church from the very beginning. Everyone has been wondering what to do about the Church’s violations. And so they came to me, offering their willingness to examine the Church’s tyranny at your side, Twilight Cardinal.”

Both Berlind and Ziad offered their own smiles.

Klevend’s was the one whose smile was slightly different.

The Kingdom of Winfiel, who supported the Twilight Cardinal, was not named in Duran’s summary.

Berlind then spoke.

“Yet there are many who still wish to drink the Church’s sweet nectar. In addition, if we acted rashly, then we could have drawn the attention of bad actors eager to sabotage others. And yet all we could do was watch on pathetically while God’s teachings were trampled on,” Berlind bemoaned, his reddened complexion growing redder.

Ziad, who wore calm like a suit, spoke next.

“It was then that Prince-Elector Duran showed us what it means to be gallant and brave. He sent for the Twilight Cardinal and is said to be planning to build a road that will lead straight into the heart of the pope’s territory. We, including the lord I serve, had no choice but to feel shame for our lack of courage in the presence of God.”

“Much like we discussed on the way here—only the descendant of the legendary mercenary king could do such a thing!”

Berlind’s interjection caused a clearly delighted smile to form beneath Duran’s beard.

“My lord, Prince-Elector Gobrea, tasked me with one duty: to create an anti-Church alliance, with Prince-Elector Duran at the center.”

Everyone seated at the table turned their attention to Col.

Every single one of those gazes were powerful enough to control the lives of any individual with a single glare.

Berlind and Ziad, especially.

This was how Duran had been done in.

The only reason Col did not grow immediately agitated was because Myuri, who sat beside him, had kicked him in the ankle beneath the table.

That, and the ones who had taken a liking to him when he was a child were incredibly powerful merchants who considered it typical to hide their ulterior motives.

“How wonderful. All I can do in the presence of something as grand as the Church is to bemoan my own insignificance. Though people call me the Twilight Cardinal, in truth, it is only thanks to”—Col paused to gesture to Klevend—“the Winfiel Kingdom and their raised banner that I could find my way. All I did was walk in that direction. But here and now, those who are willing to join me on my new journey have appeared before me, and I could not be happier.”

A smile crossed his face outside of his control as he spoke in a show of self-deprecation. He was shocked he could speak in such a manner.

Just by looking at Berlind and Ziad, Col knew.

They were vultures.

They had swooped in at the first whiff of the Church’s spilt blood in hopes of securing their share—they were bad vultures.

The proof of that lay in the way their smiles scarcely changed, even when Col brought up the Winfiel Kingdom by name. Truly, they would have seemed much more human if either of them had frowned.

They were not interested in the kingdom across the sea, much less who was the first to support the Twilight Cardinal, and even less than that, who was the first one to light the beacons in the fight against the Church.

What they were interested in was nothing more than the shape of power within the empire.

When they had heard the Twilight Cardinal was in Prince-Elector Duran’s holdings, they sensed the empire’s scales of power were about to be thrown wildly off balance. Their calculations helped them decide to act and leap at the opportunity before anyone else could.

In that sense, an alliance made perfect sense.

That was because an alliance between Berlind and Gobrea could prevent Duran from rushing ahead.

If it meant not letting anyone get ahead of them, and they would also get their share, then installing Prince-Elector Duran, who had been historically treated as an outsider, as leader of this alliance was a small price to pay.

That was what bought their smiles and their courteousness.

Amid all that, Duran said, “Through this alliance, we would like to advance this fight against the Church with you at the center, Twilight Cardinal. Both prince-electors have promised great support in building the road from my territory here in the mountains down to the plains, the pope’s territory. With this, we will bring down the iron hammer on the corrupt pope!”

Duran had gone so far as to seek out a forecast for an eclipse to regain his authority; he fought for himself with gritted teeth. He and his strength doubtlessly came from the blood and reputation of the mercenary king, but at times, strength was poison.

To keep one’s attention set forward, in a way, meant that one could not see what was happening around them.

Col understood now. That must have been what Myuri was always moaning about in his presence.

They must have discussed plenty of things here while Col and the rest of the expedition had been away, but Berlind and Ziad likely held the true reins of power. Talks continued with great power and military might as backdrops, all while convincing Duran he was leading the charge.

“On behalf of my lord, Gobrea, I agree with Prince-Elector Duran. At the same time, my lord wishes to offer a hand of assistance to the Twilight Cardinal on the matter of faith. Lord Berlind and I were discussing the topic on the way here,” Ziad said, and turned the conversation to Berlind.

That forced Col to consider what kind of deal the two of them might have struck before coming to Wobern.

“Your Eminence’s work has been spectacular, you know,” Berlind continued. “You even got yourself an impostor following your act blindly! Estatt’s archbishop is always friendly with the Holy See, but it seems he was never fully paying attention to his surroundings. We’ve heard the archbishop will be supporting Your Eminence as well, but he alone is not the reassurance it should be.”

They clearly wanted to sideline the prince-elector in Estatt, who also served as archbishop.

Or perhaps this was their way of demonstrating the threat they posed. They had a firm grasp on what was happening in the empire.

“We have heard rumor the Church will be holding an ecumenical council.”

“Yes,” Col said. “I have also heard of the possibility.”

“Hmm, hmm. Then I suppose we should mobilize all the theologians, scholars of ecclesiastic law, and high-ranking clergy we can trust to support you.”

There were many people thus far in Col’s life he owed much to, and among them were two incredibly talented merchants who taught him everything he knew about the secular world.

And so he was terribly aware of the fact every scale must be balanced.

The prince-electors’ enthusiastically extended hands came with an appropriate price.

“I cannot say I am very well learned,” Col said. “But I will do the best I can, while not getting in the way of your business.”

It was not a yes or a no.

He thought he saw Berlind and Ziad exchange glances, but Berlind’s cheerful laughter soon reached his ears.

“Ha-ha! Goodness me, the Twilight Cardinal is well practiced in the virtue of humility!”

While Berlind laughed, Ziad sat smiling beside him.

There was a dark aspect to Klevend’s smile, but his was the only one that looked real.

It seemed he had received passing marks in dealing with this farce.

That gave Col courage, and this time, he took initiative to start the conversation.

“Now, with regards to the matter of opening a road to the south…,” Col said, then gestured to Gazet, and he thought he saw the vultures’ smiles go cold.

The discussion regarding Gazet lasted a second. With a wave of a hand, like swatting away a fly, they offered to set aside land for them to move to, and that was that.

They did not look to Gazet for a single word; they gave not a single second of consideration to what sort of hardships they had been through to reach their destination, to create a living there, or what they wanted to do in the future.

Instead, Ziad and Berlind pressured Col into discussing what sort of support they could offer for what was coming next.

It was then that Klevend gently checked their aggression. By making it seem he was seeking approval from Duran, he reminded them that Col had just returned from a treacherous survey of the mountains and whisked him away.

To Col, it felt like he had been allowed to escape from the deep forest, where an animal was prowling about for corpses to feed on.

“That must’ve been a lot for you,” Klevend said. Something about him made him seem like an older brother, and Col suddenly felt like he understood, somewhat, the urge to indulge, like his own little sister did.

“A…bit, yes.”

“You did good, though.”

Klevend squeezed his shoulder and clapped him on the back, partially in a way to reward him, partially to tease him.

As a taut smile settled on Col’s face, his gaze met Gazet’s.

“…Am I supposed to treat this as a rare blessing?”

Due to Berlind’s slapdash suggestion to move the people of Fornan and Ziad’s blasé approval, the decision had been treated like it was a done deal. They did not ask for Gazet’s approval, of course, but they did not even ask for Duran’s opinion, despite it ostensibly being his land.

Duran had accepted their conclusion, almost as though they had taken care of a miscellaneous task for him, but the matter was not a triviality.

Technically speaking, the landowner had been completely disregarded.

Canaan, who stood beside Gazet, added, “That means the three of them completely overlooked the matter of heresy. Considering your history of being deemed as heretics, they must have concluded you would be a political weakness for them in the future.”

Especially since that road was supposed to become the iron hammer that would interrogate the Church’s corruption.

The presence of an issue of faith would make it a flawed symbol.

“This really reminds me,” Myuri said, eyes squinting in the bright sun as they made their way back to their manor. “All the people we met in the sheep kingdom turned out to be good people.”

When Klevend heard that, he almost looked like he was going to cry with a smile on his face.

There was a hint of vexation in his expression, too, as though he had been struck in an odd weak point.

“Girlie, no matter how old a guy gets, he’ll always want to be seen as kind of a bad guy.”

Myuri grinned, her canines peeking out, and then turned to look pointedly at Col.

“Well, I’m an obvious example,” Klevend said. “But you don’t usually find people as good-natured as my sister in the royal court. I mean, she’s the one who decided to meet the Church and its corruption head-on like a real fool.”

“So everyone else in the kingdom is like that, too?” Myuri asked.

“Oh yeah,” Klevend replied. “My brother and my old man are the worst. Dinners at home are always like that.”

It was likely because he could say such things with a straight face that he was rumored to be plotting to usurp the throne.

But the person who stood before Myuri, who drew up her shoulders as she grinned, was a caring and good-natured man.

“I saw him at the joust,” she said. “The first prince didn’t seem like that kind of person.”

“Yeah, he looks nice on the outside. He looks like a delicate little prince. But that’s exactly how he’s managed to win the support of all the noble ladies.”

“The noble ladies?”

“All the old noble men you see actin’ like they own the place are actually whipped at home. They’re all controlled by whatever comes out of the mouths of their wives.”

Myuri’s eyes widened; the expression on her face said she had just heard something delightful.

“But I guess—Gazet, right? I can see why you’re not satisfied.”

Unlike Berlind and Ziad, Klevend looked Gazet in the eye and spoke to him.

“You could throw yourself barefoot in front of their carriages, but that wouldn’t be enough to change their minds. Say anything, and they’ll just twist your words,” he said, and shrugged.

Gazet’s gaze drooped.

“It’s likely you’ll be moved to a place still within Prince-Elector Duran’s territory,” Canaan said to him. “The area in which the village of Fornan once sat still belonged to a territory centered around Wobern. With that in mind, you may have to leave your ancestral land, but in a way, would that not mean you have made a formal return to your homeland? It’s not much different from moving to a different house in the same village.”

Perspective was everything.

If they were moved to a land they had no relation to, that would be different; but it was soothing to think of their new home as part of their old home if they were to remain within Prince-Elector Duran’s influence.

“I will look into the inquisition’s investigation on you,” Canaan continued. “If we find out what sort of conclusion the Church managed to reach internally, then that may yet change the discussion. If you are clear, then that gives us the option to use your familiarity with the land as a reason to allow you to manage the area around the lake.”

“See? Cheer up!” Myuri clasped her hands around Gazet’s. He looked like he had seen a rainbow after the rain, and a pained smile crossed his face.

“I am in your debt,” he said, and at last, smiled awkwardly.

Early next morning, Canaan and his bodyguard set off for the Holy See.

After Col saw them off, Berlind asked for his company at church, where they spent the entire morning.

Considering the conversation at the palace the day previous, Col had assumed the staunchness of Berlind’s faith would be the result of careful calculation, but it seemed his faith, at least, was genuine. For most people, praying for hours at a time on a stone floor while ignoring their aching legs was not something they would do voluntarily, no matter what the reason.

But while his faith was certain, Col only wished he would use that devotion in service of good.

If Berlind was clearly evil, then Col would have no qualms about opposing him at every turn, but no elector of the empire would make such an obvious blunder.

Like a slippery snake, he slithered his way into Col’s space.

After spending an entire morning giving elusive responses, pretending not to hear him or mishear him at times, and making absolutely sure everything he said was noncommittal, Col was thoroughly exhausted.

It was much easier to handle Myuri when she suddenly jumped at him and demanded, Make me your wife!

When Col was finally free from Berlind and returned to the manor, he found Myuri, cranky from being left on her own, fully ready to go out on the town.

She shoved his plain clothes at him to change into, and said, “Hurry up, we’re getting lunch!” And when he began to change without any particular protest, that apparently took all the wind from her sails.

When he told her about the happenings at the church, she said, “Should we send a request to Miss Eve so she gets here faster? I think she’d have a great time with those guys.”

Indeed, had Eve been present at the hall, she would have fit in so well that Col would have had a tough time telling her apart from the others.

He drew a bitter smile when he pictured that.

“Adding her to their circle might have only made the problem bigger.”

They were in their own room, so Myuri had her ears and tail out; she drew her eyes upward, as though looking at a butterfly that had landed on her ears, and then grinned in delight.

“I think she’d come up with so many evil plots if she was with them.”

“Miss Eve is a terribly fair person, after all.”

Myuri’s wolf ears flicked—she liked the roundabout way he worded that.

“You can play favorites as much as you want as long as it’s me, you know?” she said.

“Yes, I know.”

Once Col was finished changing, Myuri motioned for him to crouch. He did as he was told; she undid the tie on his hair, and then began to retie it.

“You need to do this more neatly. You’re such a clumsy person.”

“You could have tied it back for me before I went to mass, you know.”

Myuri pouted, then tied the band holding his hair tightly.

She had managed to wake up to see Canaan off, but for her to win against the temptation of a morning nap had been next to impossible.

“Ah yes, how is Gazet?”

Apparently, Gazet would receive no punishment for living illegally in the forest.

But the way Duran and the other prince-electors would be handling them was not truly what Gazet and his people wanted.

That meant they would likely face the question of whether or not the villagers would agree with the arrangement.

“He’s been thinking all day in his room. He’s been eating, though, so I think he’s fine.”

Myuri’s standard of health was based around whether or not someone was taking their meals, and Col could not help but laugh at that.

“Huh? What?”

She was bewildered by the hand on her head; Col patted her on the back and said, “Then shall we find ourselves some lunch, too?”

The city of Wobern was clearly livelier than when they first visited.

The soldiers who had accompanied Berlind and Ziad were fervently talking about their arms outside of the smithies, and they saw many people having their meals outside the taverns.

Col wondered if they were being watched from afar, but so long as Myuri was acting carefree, it was likely fine.

Myuri secured them seats at a tavern that Vadan recommended to them, and then ordered a venison soup that used plenty of the local cheese.

As Col sat across from her and watched her, he suddenly let out a sigh at the peaceful sight.

“Tired?” Myuri asked.

“No…,” he said, but then corrected himself. “A bit, I suppose.”

Some plump and firm-looking bread had been brought to them first; Myuri tore off a piece, slathered a shocking amount of butter on it, and handed it to him.

“You’re just hungry.”

At the very beginning of their journey, he would have insisted that was not the case.

But now, he took it without complaint.

He bit down on the bread, and immediately noticed something.

“…The bread tastes much better.”

“I’m glad you noticed. The wheat they’re bringing to town is really, really good.”

She opened her mouth wide enough for Col to see the inside of her throat, and then bit down on the bread.

She chewed on the fluffy bread happily, then eagerly gulped it down.

Before taking her second bite, she said, “It’s thanks to everything you’ve done, Brother. The town has so much life now.”

“………”

“Right?”

She looked at him with a little smug gaze and smile.

Because she was indeed a little smug girl.

“There are some things even Mother can and can’t do. I just think you’re doing everything you can really well.”

Myuri understood Col much better than Col understood Myuri, even though he thought he knew her very well.

He ate the bread she gave him, as though accepting his defeat.

“There will be a lot of things like that meeting yesterday waiting for us ahead,” he said.

Perhaps this was not the topic to bring up to his very young sister, but who sat across from him was the world’s most exclusive knight, who bore the crest of a wolf around her waist.

“Yeah. You’re going to make more allies out of important people like that, then we’re all gonna attack the south from that cliff at once, right?”

The latter half might have been a joke, but she was not terribly off.

“We’ve been working frantically to reach this great objective of ours, but…”

What cut him off was their soup arriving in large wooden bowls.

Myuri’s entire face lit up with delight and began spooning the large chunks of venison into her own bowl.

“It would be impossible to do this cleanly, without leaving anything out or leaving something behind.”

Even Myuri, as greedy as she was, could not get every morsel of venison off the bone.

Of course, she could swallow the bone whole if she were to return to her wolf form, but that was the same for their fight against the Church.

“It’s because you get lost in your dreams, Brother. You want everyone to look at the same goal, have the same convictions without any doubts, solve every problem along the way as you move straight ahead, right?”

She stuck her sharp canines into the venison cartilage, cracking it into bits.

That was probably something that had stuck to his soul as he imagined all the facets of his ideal world in the depths of the mountains of Nyohhira, but what that was, he did not know.

“You are exactly correct.”

Once he acknowledged it, Myuri grinned as she chewed on the cartilage.

“I’ve been thinking too, you know.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.”

Once she was finished with her first piece of venison, she dipped a piece of the bread into the soup and bit into it.

“You know how you were thinking about how to use our powers?”

This made Col a bit nervous, but Myuri did not seem particularly emotional.

If anything, she noticed he was nervous, and she offered him an offended smile.

“You’re the only one who drags his feet thinking about the same problem forever, Brother.”

It was a harsh statement, but he could say nothing back.

“I could solve most of the problems that block your way with my teeth and claws. The question of whether you’d make me your bride seems to be a tough one for you, but I could solve that with my teeth and claws, too.”

Col gave her a dry smile, and she beamed.

“But you said we should be careful when it comes to using our powers, right? Because they’re too miraculous.”

Humans and nonhumans, as their names suggested, were different. Nonhuman fangs and claws wielded power far greater than anything a mercenary could achieve even if they trained all their life. They were fundamentally different beings, which meant they could resolve problems in the human world in extraordinary ways.

When Myuri realized this, she had been shocked by the depth of the gap that separated her and her big brother, and was thrown into a panic.

But the girl who sat before him now, sipping on her soup, showed none of the restlessness she had back then.

Perhaps that was why he had been able to start this conversation.

“But you’re going to have to be present in difficult situations that you’re not really suited for like yesterday, right?”

“Well…yes.”

“Plus, I have a feeling you’re going to be in situations where you’re going to have to accept even worse outcomes, right?”

Col peered at her; he thought she was implying she would do to Berlind the same as she was doing to the bread—taking the round man in her mouth, dunking him into the river, and then chewing him to bits. As a very last resort.

As he stared at her, the wolf girl turned her red eyes, a gift from her mother, to him.

“Brother, you were talking about our powers and the problems that come with it when we solve the difficulties that get in our way, right?”

“What?”

Myuri stuffed the rest of her bread in her mouth and brushed the crumbs off her hands.

Once she swallowed, she continued. “In the room with all the bad guys yesterday, I saw how hard you were trying, and I thought to myself, there’s more I can do for you than just bite the bad people in your way so you can keep moving forward.”

If there was one thing Col was used to picturing in his mind, it was Myuri as a wolf, standing in front of him and off to the side, her head lowered and growling.

But what she was talking about was different.

“People like Miss Eve are probably going to attack us at some point in the future. I know you’re gonna do everything you can, but there will come a day when you’re not gonna have a way out. You might struggle against it, but there might not be anything you can do.”

Indeed, when he thought of the meeting and how Berlind hung around him in the church, he knew it was a real possibility.

Their egos were powerful enough to make even God feel shame, and the authority they wielded was enough to move mountains.

Whether or not Col could avoid these sticky webs rested solely on God’s mercy.

But what surprised him was that the one who brought this up was a rambunctious girl who was so easygoing about every hardship they faced, who treated them like they were nothing to worry about, to the point that it constantly astonished him.

As he sat bewildered, Myuri quietly smiled.

“So I thought about it a different way. If there comes a point you can’t do anything, then I could just open up a path for you.”

“Oh…Hmm?”

“Not a path for you to keep moving forward, but a backward path for you to escape.”

The eyes Myuri inherited from her mother sharpened, and she bared her fangs as she smiled.

“You don’t care what happens once you abandon everything and run away, right? Then that means we can do anything we want. That will be when I come in.”

Despite how desperate they might be in a situation like that, it was also a reasonable conclusion.

Because—

“So you keep looking forward and go as far as you can. No matter how many bad guys are waiting for you ahead, you can do whatever you want. You don’t need to hold back against those wicked old men. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

Because it was not God who was protecting him—it was a wolf.

“I hate seeing you worry, Brother.”

Perhaps that was how awful the look on his face was when he returned from the church.

No…perhaps she had already been thinking about it while watching the meeting unfold yesterday.

Thinking several steps ahead was what made a good hunter.

“Thank you,” Col said.

“For what?”

“Knowing I have an escape route means I can be more daring. That knowledge alone will help me overcome hardship.”

There was more than one way to use a miracle, and that was the same for the powers of a nonhuman.

Heroes were valiant not simply because they could defeat enemies, but because they could make irreversible gambles with a straight face. But any normal person could play the part of a hero if they knew they could take back any of their failed gambles.

This wolf girl was smart and a little mean, which meant she knew exactly how to run circles around her normal big brother. Not only that, but her brother was much like a sheep—very adept at moving forward, yet not so much at moving backward.

Col could not easily translate his lines of thoughts the way she could.

When he realized how grateful he was that Myuri was with him, the girl drew up her shoulders, then began to lick off the butter on her hands as she said, “But I guess you running away would be more convenient for me.”

“Huh?”

Myuri turned to look at Col once he asked in return; her eyes were that of an expert trapper who could eradicate all prey from the Nyohhira mountains.

“Because no matter how much I chase you, you never turn to look at me. So I’m changing tactics. Instead of wasting my energy chasing after you to make you turn to look at me, I just have to wait for you in a place where you have no choice but to turn around, and then you’ll jump right into my bosom without me asking!”

“………”

Perhaps the reason Myuri could stand against Berlind and Ziad was because she was made of the same stuff.

“Hee-hee. I’ll hold you against my luscious chest when you’re about to cry. You’ll be fiiine!”

Who on earth put that idea in her head?

No, this girl had always been smart.

Her slow-witted older brother never had a chance of catching up.

Out of spite, he said, “I suppose that means I’ll have to work that much harder.”

Myuri had placed her venison between pieces of bread and was about to bite into it, but froze with her mouth open. After a moment of thought, she glared at him.

“What does that mean?”

Myuri was the spitting image of her mother, so Col had a feeling it was far too optimistic that she would have a luscious chest to hold him against. But he opted to not give voice to this thought.

“Hmph. You’re not the only one, anyway,” Myuri said. “Old man Gazet was pretty cool when he pushed forward like that, but I think that was pretty risky of him.”

“Because he has nowhere to run?”

“Yeah. I think he’s okay for now, but…it’s not safe for him. There’s only one way he can go, you know. The path he thinks he’s on might turn out to be a one-way road into a trap.”

Col suddenly thought about Duran. Perhaps Duran, too, knew he was being deceived, yet had no choice but to do what he was told.

“But I’ll keep an eye out on everything for you.”

Col was shocked and vexed when this girl hid herself in a barrel on a boat to follow along on his journey, and in all honesty, he thought she was going to be nothing but trouble.

But countless times had she helped him, and now she had just declared she would be there to lend a hand to the very end.

It was the same.

“Exactly…the same.”

“Mm?”

It was the same as he once did for her.

When Myuri learned there was no land shown on the world map where she could freely display the wolf blood in her veins, Col had reassured her. What was happening now was the same as then.

He did have a way out.

She was always behind him, waiting for him.

Even if he made enemies of the entire world.

“You’ve…grown.”

“Hmm?”

Grease from the meat stained Myuri’s cheeks, filled with bread and venison.

With a tired smile, he wiped it clean for her.

She gave him an annoyed look, but she was not as upset as she let on.

Once he was done cleaning her cheek, Col suddenly felt hungry.

Wobern was lively, and he was proud they were the ones who had revived the city.

The purpose of their journey was to right the wrongs of this world.

But there was more than one path to their destination, and there was a path behind him, too.

That thought alone gave him the strength to face Berlind again, despite how frustrated their last interaction had left him.

That was when he noticed the rich flavors of wheat filling his mouth again.

CHAPTER FOUR

A letter was delivered to Gazet at the manor.

It was a charter that recognized the rebuilding of the village of Fornan.

Vadan brought out a map of the area, so they all checked the location together. The spot was in a harsh mountainous area to the northeast of Wobern, and a servant from the local area told them it was barren.

But the Wobern area was filled with barren spots to begin with, so it had been unlikely they would be given a spot with rich soil. Myuri was angry with the stinginess of Duran’s decision, considering she was completely on Gazet’s side, while Gazet gratefully held the charter up.

“No longer are we illegal residents with this.”

Gazet and his people had left the land in which their forefathers had settled, letting the old legend of the Moon-Hunting Bear, which had been passed down through their family, guide them. Though this was no triumphant return to their homeland in the most traditional sense, at least they had a place they could formally call their own.

No longer was this an age where the winds of war blew, where even beggars could work their way up in the world with luck and skill, so this was practically a miracle by itself.

“But they really let you have land that easily, huh?”

Myuri leaned closer to the charter parchment and sniffed as she spoke.

“This area is a lot like Nyohhira,” Col explained. “Winter comes quickly. Their lives will not settle immediately after moving, so if they miss their opportunity this summer, then their lives will be thrown off by a year. Considering the building of the road as well, they probably want them to move before the year is over.”

“Oh, okay,” Myuri said. “To build houses and cultivate fields and stuff.”

Gazet rolled up the charter and reverently placed it on a shelf, then sighed.

“But the mountain we are meant to move to would be like the mountains we saw on the way here, yes? Unfortunately, we do not know the ways of mountain life…”

“Oh, you had someone teach you how to live in the forest, right?” Myuri asked.

“Yes,” Gazet replied. “Our master wished for the life of a hermit since his days in the monastery. He mastered all sorts of techniques and knowledge in order to live far away from others.”

“Ooh…”

Col saw the shine in Myuri’s eye, so he spoke up before the adventurous girl began dreaming.

“It would be nice if Master Lehmann could join you in your new village,” he remarked.

“I would like that, but…” Gazet’s expression clouded. “As a hermit, he takes no permanent home and tries to find his god within the forest. He was originally nothing more than someone who lent a hand to us, as we were on the brink of perishing when we first arrived in the forest and he felt the need to help us. I don’t think we could ask him to move with us…”

There were all sorts of circumstances surrounding Gazet and his people.

But if they were to live according to the charter, then they would no longer have to live always looking over their shoulder, worrying about being driven off their land. They could more easily trade with the surrounding villages, which meant they could generally expect their lives to get better and easier.

And it was not impossible for them to travel to the forest, where their master would remain.

“But if we are to move, then that would smooth a small hitch in Your Eminence’s plan.”

Gazet had begun calling Col “Your Eminence” ever since arriving in Wobern.

Though it likely came from a place of respect, Col had the faint feeling he was being teased.

He knew he would get used to it one day, but that did not seem like it would be the case for a while yet.

“I would like it if you and your people helped us with the building of the road, Mister Gazet,” Col said. “Even if Prince-Elector Berlind and Prince-Elector Gobrea do send us workers, I think it would be better if we had more people who are familiar with the land.”

“Yes,” Gazet replied. “But the forest where we live is not a dangerous one. I believe your road will come along fine even without our help. We were lucky we never encountered any bears or wolves.”

“Really?” Myuri asked, faint surprise in her voice.

Perhaps it was unusual for there to be no bears or wolves in such a deep, vast wood.

“Or perhaps it is because your reclusive teacher prays to God,” Col offered.

There were indeed saints who had protection from wolves.

But the look on Myuri’s face was oddly solemn. She said, “Maybe that was part of the Moon-Hunting Bear’s territory.”

“What?”

“Maybe they’re still scared, and that’s why they stay away.”

From the way the myth lived on, that the Moon-Hunting Bear caused some sort of trouble in that land was likely rooted in truth. And in Nyohhira, it was thanks to Myuri’s mother, the wisewolf, that they suffered no harm from bears or wolves. Considering this was the land where the Moon-Hunting Bear had gone on a sort of rampage, perhaps the bears and wolves had learned to stay away over the past few hundred years.

But Gazet did not know of nonhumans—Myuri’s words caused a troubled smile to cross his face.

“I am glad you are interested in our tales, but it is not something you should speak of often.”

Because it was an old tale that still stank of heresy.

“Our ancestors gave the village to the bear and lost their home, or so they say. But it’s thanks to this legend their descendants found another home. Fate is a funny thing.”

Once he was finished speaking, Gazet gazed softly at the charter on the shelf.

That evening, Klevend returned to the mansion.

Berlind’s gout had worsened so he was resting in his room and Prince-Elector Duran was busy settling disputes between local villages, so the long string of dinner engagements came to an abrupt end.

“You’ve been working hard,” Col remarked to him.

“I sure have!”

Klevend stripped off his cape, heavily decorated with insignias, his shoulders unfurling as he did.

It was because Klevend had spent all his time at Duran’s side that Col and company had been able to put some distance between himself and the prince-electors.

“I feel like we’re gonna have a fun and easy dinner tonight. You’ll serve me my booze, right, little lady?”

Myuri, who had a book about the myths of the stars borrowed from Amaretto open on her lap, stuck out her tongue at Klevend.

“I was wondering how things were gonna go.” Klevend changed the topic. “But it seems the project’s going smoothly.”

“Do you mean us?” Gazet asked.

But the prince did not answer—he first downed his mug of ale in one gulp and belched, like a bandit.

“Beh…All they serve at the palace is wine, y’know. Some crap about ale being a lowborn drink.”

“Wow, you really are like a bandit.”

If anything, Klevend seemed happy at Myuri’s jab.

One of his men poured him a new mug, and Klevend finally turned to Gazet.

“I was sweating the whole time. Usually when they find guys they don’t know anything about, they send in soldiers to burn everything down. If that happened, the cardinal over there would get real upset.”

Col felt no need to protest; he closed his eyes.

“But, y’know, it is what it is, so you’re probably not gonna get any support from the prince-elector when you move. All I ask is for you to understand.”

“Of course. Not once did we ever rely on God’s protection—we would hardly rely on a lord’s support after all this time.”

Klevend made a face as though caught by surprise; after a moment, he chuckled.

But soon, his princely expression came back to him.

“It sounds like they’re gonna be rushing the southward road project along. See, apparently they’re seriously discussing the ecumenical council within the Church. The Church might beat us to the punch if we drag our feet.”

“Is that what you’ve been hearing?” Col asked.

“Oh yeah,” Klevend replied. “Both Gobrea and Berlind are definitely the core of the empire—they get their news fast. And their servants are constantly coming and going from the city. I’m not lettin’ them get to me, though—I sent out a letter to my sister, but I think we’re gonna be one step behind. I told ’em you were tired from traveling and let you rest yesterday and today, but that’s why tomorrow you need to come to the palace with me.”

Col replied with an earnest apology and agreement.

“I want to go back to the lake,” Myuri said. “You want to tell everyone else at the village, right, old man?”

“Yes,” Gazet replied. “They must be thinking I’ve been hanged by now.”

Myuri laughed, as though her own neck was being tickled.

“But first, grub,” Klevend said. And as he did, his men came to tell them that dinner was ready.

“Whoa, look at all this food…”

Col and company were borrowing a mansion from Duran, and, of course, were not caring for it on their own.

Servants and maids frequented the mansion, and they were the ones who typically prepared their meals. It was easy and comfortable for Col, but since he used to work at the bathhouse in Nyohhira, he found himself seized by the urge to help wash the cheese or clean out the ash from the hearth when he saw them working.

And the feast they found laid out over the dining room table was, indeed, fancy.

Col found himself unsure if he should indulge in luxury like this, but it was one of Klevend’s men who spoke up.

“I heard the prince-elector gave them a lot of instruction on the prep for this meal. I’m sure part of it comes from gratitude for the Twilight Cardinal, and the rest of it’s from…”

The man grinned, another layer of meaning behind his smile, and Klevend finished for him.

“The Twilight Cardinal and the Saint of the Sun smacking their lips over common tavern food’s became a bit of a topic in the court today.”

“What?”

That must have been referring to their lunch earlier that day; but then why would that lead to the prince-elector ordering the kitchen to throw together a fancy feast?

As Col stood baffled, Klevend laughed at him.

“One of their esteemed guests is out scarfing down commoner food. If I heard that, I’d go pay the kitchen a visit myself. ‘Hey! What crap’ve you been feedin’ our guests?!’ Y’know?”

“…Oh.”

It was only when Klevend said that that Col realized his misstep.

Col and Myuri’s perspective was that having their hosts fix dinner for them would only cause their hosts further burden. But it was different among the elite.

It was their sufficient hospitality and magnanimity that preserved their honor.

This sort of sensibility and all things related to it would go nowhere if Col had to play the part of the Twilight Cardinal alone.

“But I guess that country-boy attitude of yours is part of the Twilight Cardinal’s charm.”

Col was unsure if that was meant to make him feel better or not.

“Hey, can we eat?”

Myuri was not interested in this complicated conversation; she looked as though drool was about to spill from her mouth at any moment.

Wobern was known for its cheese, but the rest of its food was regular—plain, if anything. Deer and goat were simply roasted, larger fish could not be caught from the rivers since the city was upstream, so their fish generally ran small. The sea was far and rock salt was unobtainable, so the lack of seasoning made it all a bit bland.

But what sat on the table now were dishes comparable to what one might find in any other city.

Col could sense Prince-Elector Duran’s spirit from the feast on the table.

Thick, fatty pork ribs still sizzled on their plates; there was even soup made of carp, which must have been specially sourced from somewhere nearby. The food was generously seasoned with spices and garlic—the aroma was a bit too intense for Col’s liking, but perhaps it was because the cooks were simply not used to making food like this normally. It tickled his appetite anyway.

The bread was, of course, soft wheat bread, and came with all sorts of candied fruits.

“So, thanks to God…and the prince-elector for this meal.”

Unable to wait, Myuri gave her thanks in form only and dinner began.

She quickly grabbed a piece of bread and cut off a pork rib for herself.

Gazet stared wide-eyed, frozen before the grand feast.

Klevend considerately took portions of each of the dishes and placed it before Gazet.

The old man said something, and Klevend smiled kindly. Perhaps he expressed the want to take the food back to everyone waiting for him in the village. It was likely terribly difficult to live a self-sufficient lifestyle in an isolated wood. But Col wanted him to enjoy the meal.

That thought crossed his mind as he took a piece of bread, when something else happened.

“Stop!”

The voice tore through the air. When Col whipped around to Myuri in surprise, he found the girl standing on her chair, one foot already on the table.

All those bringing in the food were shocked. When Myuri leaped onto the table from her chair, her chair tipped over and fell to the ground. Soup bowls flipped over, and the linen tablecloth scrunched beneath her shoes.

And then—

“Don’t eat that!”

She leaped at Gazet to smack the bread out of his hands; her excess momentum carried her straight into the wall and she fell.

After the loud thuds and crashes filled the room, many of the dishes on the table flipped as though time finally started moving again.

“Myuri!”

What erupted from Col’s throat was something close to a scream, what could be described as either anger or shock.

The anger that bubbled in him was almost like sadness. How could she ruin this feast, which Duran certainly went out of his way to prepare for them? But as his anger simmered, he noticed there was one person who was particularly quiet among the chaos.

And that person was staring at a certain something.

The bread—the one Myuri had slapped out of Gazet’s hand, which now lay on the table.

Vadan, the mouse spirit, stared straight at the bread.

“…It can’t be.”

At that moment, Klevend helped Myuri up off the ground.

Col stared back at Vadan, and their gazes met.

The look on his face was that of disbelief.

“Poison?”

Klevend, who was holding Myuri up, stared wide-eyed in shock.

Myuri got to her feet, her hand pressing against her head; she must have hit it.

“Owww…You didn’t eat that, did you, old man?”

“N-no…But…”

Gazet was not the only one bewildered. Klevend was also looking at Myuri dubiously.

Poison? Did someone say poison? But why? Why say that?

Myuri’s wolf nose must have sniffed out the smell of the poison, not tricked by the scent of the feast on the table. But there was a reason why palaces employed people specifically to test for poison—a regular human was unable to sense it.

In his panic, Col tried to put together a reasonable excuse, but Myuri beat him to the punch.

“The mouse…”

“What?”

Klevend was not the only one who asked.

Vadan was surprised by this, too. But he was the captain of a smuggling ship, a role that demanded resourcefulness.

He cleared his throat, and then one of Klevend’s men gave a yelp.

“B-boss! Look!”

“Quit callin’ me boss…Wait, hey, no way.”

His attention settled at a corner of the room.

Right in front of a gap in the boards, just big enough for a mouse to fit through, lay a lone mouse on its back.

It was as though it attempted to steal some food, but simply died as a result.

But it was more likely a realistic performance. Col would have to offer him some cheese later.

“Anyone else eat any of this?!”

Klevend immediately moved—he had likely experienced a situation like this in the past.

“If there is, then give ’em all the salt water we can get our hands on! Oh, but don’t use any of the salt in this house! And find the guy who made this food!”

After he barked those orders, his men raced off.

Luckily, this was before anyone had eaten any of the food. Including Col.

But even if they had, he was sure they would be all right.

“Hey, what do you think this means?” Klevend asked him.

Once Col’s shock subsided, anger took its place.

“They have no reason to kill off all of us. I believe their only target was Mister Gazet.”

There was plenty of reason for them to poison him.

Col took a deep breath and said, “I’m going to the prince-elector’s palace.”

He turned his gaze to Myuri, and the little knight pursed her lips and nodded.

Col changed into his priest’s robes, and Myuri also dressed in her knight’s garb, her sword at her hip.

Col then grabbed what he wore when he had gone to survey the lake and slid it on his finger.

He took the lead. Myuri and Klevend flanked him, and Klevend’s men came in tow. That there were so many of them was Klevend’s idea—if Col wanted to display his anger, he needed to form a group like this.

Once they entered the palace, surprised soldiers and vaguely familiar elderly butlers roaming the halls with documents in hand all called out to them in shock.

Their party ignored all of them. Col vigorously flung open the door to the hall in which the prince-elector usually stayed.

“Prince-elector!”

Soldiers who attempted to stop them were pushed aside by Klevend’s men, and loud arguments quickly erupted. Myuri took a deep lungful of the unsettled air, and a terrifying smile, like the fire in a furnace, burst across her face.

And there was no need for Col to give a half-hearted performance for this.

Because he was genuinely furious.

“Lord Duran, what is the meaning of this?!”

Duran sat alone at the long table, eating his dinner under candlelight.

The dishes in front of him were comparatively plain; this was what he was like at his core.

And that in and of itself showed Col a sliver of hope.

Perhaps it was someone like Berlind or Ziad who attempted to poison Gazet.

But upon Col’s demanding of an answer, Prince-Elector Duran gave a poor, avoidant response.

“What is the meaning of what? You’re making a ruckus.”

Col held back the urge to yell. He turned his deep breath into as quiet a voice as he could.

“Putting poison in Mister Gazet’s food.”

Here he was, suggesting poison in the house of someone who had ample reason to be deeply concerned with appearances.

It went beyond disgraceful behavior—this could very well be a declaration of war on behalf of the guest.

Duran stared at Col, then looked away.

“Did he pass on?”

“No. He did not even take a bite.”

“What?”

When Prince-Elector Duran looked back at Col, Col stuck out his right hand.

“Behold, God’s protection!”

“Wh—?!”

What sat on his finger was a dull silver ring.

Pure silver rings were protective charms that many believed could detect poison. There were quite a few rings on Duran’s fingers, but they were less a display of wealth, and more an indication of superstition.

The ring Canaan had given Col, when he was about to set off on a survey of a dangerous forest, had come in handy.

The prince-elector was honest at his core, and Col was the Twilight Cardinal, known the world over.

When confronted with the superstition that silver rings could detect poison, Duran stared wide-eyed in amazement.

“We were lucky that it was before Mister Gazet took a bite of the bread. So let me ask you again—why did you do this?”

The reason excess herbs and garlic had been used in such a fancy meal was likely to hide the smell of poison. Gazet was someone who had survived life in the forest—people like him were generally skilled in detecting poison, so they had taken excessive steps to hide it.

“…And what would you have me do?”

That was what Col received in response.

“My land has nothing left to give. And I am to give up land to someone who has appeared out of the blue? Of course such a thing would be impossible.”

“And so you chose to poison him? To kill him?”

Col’s words were direct. Duran, accordingly, as prince-elector, frowned deeply.

“Then am I to leave those suspected of heresy be and still build a road south? And ask for their help? What do you think would happen if an inquisitor were to appear?!”

“And that is why Archivist Canaan is currently—”

“Then you go tell Berlind or Ziad instead of me!”

Duran stared straight at Col and did not look away.

There was clear anger in his eyes, and it did not take long for Col to realize something else about him.

He was biting back the agony he felt for how helpless and pathetic he was.

His teeth were clenched so tightly as he glared at Col that his beard shuddered. He exhaled deeply.

“What would you have me do?”

When they had the meeting in this hall with Berlind and Ziad, they were clearly extolling Duran to the skies—a pitiful lord who felt like he was on top of the world. But what if that was not due to his simple personality, but a strategy for him to survive?

“That I had illegal residents hiding in a portion of my territory to begin with…is something to be ashamed of as a lord. A symbol of my weakness. The moment Berlind and Ziad heard of this, they immediately passed judgment on me. What could I say in response to their exasperated looks? I had no choice but to act the part of a clown! Opening a road southward is the last hope for my lands, but I cannot pay for it alone. And I can afford a war with the Church even less, which will assuredly come once the road is finished.”

There was hatred in his eyes.

But a part of him looked obsequious, which likely came from the gratitude he felt from all Col did surrounding Amaretto’s disappearance.

“And so I had to remove anything that might prove an obstacle in the plan,” Duran said, a lopsided smile on his lips, as though he had pointed a knife at his own face. “I would have had nothing to worry about if you had taken care of that for me, Twilight Cardinal.”

Priests were all ideals, no realism.

It was a common jab, but that did not mean it did not hurt.

“And…considering how loyal you are to God’s teachings, what do you plan to do?”

Exhausted, Duran leaned his body to the back of his chair.

They could not leave Gazet and his people be when they opened the road to the south. If inquisitors caught wind of them, the Church would most certainly pivot to attack this new weak point.

And from Berlind’s and Ziad’s perspective, they would be putting quite a lot of resources into the building of the road, so they would expect its execution to be a certainty.

That there were illegal residents residing in the forest meant Duran’s authority as a ruling lord was weak.

And that meant Col had no right to give his input on how Duran was to deal with Gazet and his people.

Even if they were to move Gazet and his people to a new location, there was no abundance of fertile land in the Wobern region.

And so once Duran had soothed Gazet with a fake charter, he had no choice but to kill him.

Perhaps that would invite the Twilight Cardinal’s fury, but it would work, and more importantly, Berlind and Ziad were watching.

Col felt a bitter smile start to creep across his face, but it did not come from a place of contempt or scorn. He had acted well enough at the meeting that Klevend had complimented him.

And so Berlind and Ziad must have assumed the Twilight Cardinal was surprisingly smart.

They determined he was not so foolish as to ruin everything he had worked for thus far and lose the one-in-a-million chance to take down the Church.

Despite himself, Col balled the hand adorned with the ring into a fist. It was not the silver ring Canaan had consecrated for him that had miraculously revealed the poison.

It was because Col was somewhat impertinent.

“Let’s say the Twilight Cardinal saw nothing and heard nothing. Is that good enough? What do you think, Prince Klevend?”

Prince-Elector Duran turned his attention to the young prince.

“Are you guiltless enough that you can stand before God with pride?” he asked.

Klevend had once acted like a bandit leader within the kingdom; now, he would let not such provocations get to him, but the reason he did not say yes was because he was honest.

Duran did not sneer at him. He placed an elbow on the table and propped up a cheek in his hand, exhausted.

“The emperor is showing interest in the fight against the Church. The reason Berlind and Gobrea have been enthusiastic is likely because they believe the emperor will issue an imperial bull.”

“An imperial bull?” Col repeated, not expecting to hear the word.

“The empire once owned quite a bit of land in the south. But over the many conflicts we’ve had with the Church, that land was slowly chipped away. The emperor must be looking to restore the empire’s borders to what it was once before through this fight.”

And a newly cut slice of pie would be given to the one who cut the pie first.

“The reason you have captured so many hearts is likely due to your purity. There is no doubt the reason those in Ahberg have reconciled with me for this project is because they felt pressured by your selfless work.”

What Duran said sounded both like a compliment and a statement of contempt.

“Selflessness is violence. Do you know how much the power of the forceful justice that stems from it has caused people to suffer?”

Duran turned to look at Col as he spoke, and it seemed as though he aged many years in an instant.

What was considered just and right commanded the masses across the world just as much as who was considered strong. While Duran was indeed a lord ruling over his own land, he did not have the protection of a wolf who would save him from every danger. And of course, God would offer no help.

Col had been eased knowing his little sister, who had the blood of wolves in her veins, would protect him. And then what was he supposed to say to Duran?

“I want to ask you something.”

It was Klevend who spoke.

“The old man was poisoned. What about the old man’s people?”

A jolt coursed through Col. Myuri tensed.

The people of the village of Fornan had nowhere to go.

If they could not stay on this earth, then where were they to go?

“…The myth of the Moon-Hunting Bear was nothing more than a heretical superstition to begin with, was it not?”

Klevend immediately whirled on his heel and ordered his men, who were squabbling with the soldiers, to follow him. Grant, the one who had led their expedition to survey for the road, had not been friendly toward Gazet’s people.

So once Duran’s orders reached them, they would not hesitate.

They would be in a deep wood that blocked even the gaze of God.

“Myuri.”

Col endured the way his throat threatened to clench, and called her name.

Myuri quickly nodded and made sure the pouch of wheat still hung from her neck.

Even if Klevend were to send his men running, it was likely they would not make it in time. The roads made travel difficult for anyone who was unfamiliar with them, and even Col knew it was reckless to make enemies of the locals in the mountains, where no help would come if asked.

Plus, Klevend’s men were noble sons who had trained in a land of sheep and fields.

It was far too reckless for them to confront hunters who had honed themselves in the steep mountains and deep woods while fighting off beasts with claws and fangs.

If Col did not rely on Myuri’s power, then the village of Fornan would vanish.

Just as they were about to leave the hall, Col glanced at Prince-Elector Duran one last time.

But Duran no longer looked at him.

He stared blankly at his cooled dinner.

“Brother.”

Myuri’s tone of voice was that of a mother who scolded her child for staring into the woods at night.

Nothing in Duran’s world was working in his favor—he had simply been struggling to stay afloat.

Despite the abominable manifestation of his struggle, Col had no right to blame him.

Together, Col and Myuri exited the hall.

As they left, an old butler rushed to the prince-elector’s side and spoke to him.

One had no choice but to fold without enough strength, but that was why others were there to support them.

In that sense, seeing Myuri run alongside him was incredibly reassuring, and Col’s heart stirred when he considered her power that defied human logic.

Once they exited the palace, Klevend was already gone.

As Col was about to rush back to their mansion, Myuri grabbed his sleeve and stopped him.

“Those bad guys have lackeys everywhere. I know it probably doesn’t count much for now, but we need to stay calm.”

The sun had set long ago. The guards who were on watch dotted the grounds.

Col suddenly felt as though they were all meant to be spying on them.

But then came a quiet noise, and he spotted a mouse scuttle up Myuri’s body. It squeaked by her ear, and Myuri gave it a little scratch on its neck.

“He says there’s no one lying in ambush. Let’s go back to the mansion.”

“I appreciate it.”

Col gave his thanks to the mouse, and the mouse blinked in faint surprise.

“But what are we supposed to do, Brother?”

Myuri began to walk, and she continued, as though answering her own question.

“Do we ask Blondie to take the old man and his people in for us? That prince is still a prince, so couldn’t he find a place for them to live?”

That was about all they could come up with.

But doing so would mean accepting people who had been residing illegally in another lord’s forest as guests. How would their relationship with Prince-Elector Duran look after that from an outsider’s perspective?

That would cause even more of a scandal than eating at a tavern in town.

“But that hinges on us making sure the old man and his people are safe first.”

“Your legs could take us there.”

Myuri huffed.

Those who had Duran’s orders had left Wobern a long time ago.

But no matter how familiar they were with the land or how powerful their legs were, they were no match for Myuri’s wolf legs.

They would catch up with the messenger in the blink of an eye, stomp out the fires of their camps, pull off all their blankets, and scarf down all their food while they shivered and prayed to God.

And then Myuri could reach the lake where Grant and the other hunters were without even waiting for daybreak.

Finding Gazet’s people and leading them to a safe place would be something Myuri could practically do in her sleep, perhaps even literally.

“They could. But then that’d be a miracle.”

There was criticism in her tone, and she was in fact criticizing him.

It was none other than her older brother who said using the powers of nonhumans was not a good thing.

But if he were going to be daunted by this situation, then he would have to give up his name of Twilight Cardinal.

“I don’t mind.”

It was because he shamelessly pursued his ideals that people found hope in him.

“Coming up with a reasonable explanation for a miracle is nowhere as difficult as bringing the dead back to life.”

“Oh? Sounds like you finally understand how you’re supposed to ask people for help, Brother.”

Her cheeky tone was likely a result of Klevend’s influence.

“You only ever learn to speak inappropriately…”

She returned his statement with an unapologetic grin, but her expression remained clouded.

“But do you get it, Brother?”

“Get what?”

“That even if we do this, it won’t solve the root of the problem. So long as the old man and his people live, the mercenary king will never be able to satisfy those bad guys. No matter what, the only way they can really be saved is if you step up and protect them. But then their animosity will turn to you once the bad guys see that you’re in their way.”

Both Berlind and Ziad were currently raising Col as a convenient symbol.

But their supposed respect was flimsier than parchment.

“I’m not too worried if we keep Blondie, Miss Eve, and Miss Ilenia on our side, though.”

“Indeed, we are invincible with them on our side.”

Myuri shrugged in response to Col’s bravado.

“Also, you do realize there is some logic in the bad guys’ excuses, right, Brother?”

“………”

Gazet and his people were once again being pursued by inquisitors.

If the world were to know the Twilight Cardinal was caring for these people, that would become fodder for the Church. And at the same time, that problem would also arise if they decided to ask Klevend or Hyland to house them in the kingdom.

“And even if the old man is determined to survive no matter what, there’s still everyone else.”

“What?”

“We’d be telling them Your god is fake, forget about it, move on, right?”

Myuri’s red eyes stared at Col. She had inherited them from a wolf who once presided over the wheat harvest and was worshiped as a god.

“If someone said that to you, could you do it?”

Her straightforward question knocked him off balance.

“…I, well…”

“I couldn’t. If someone told me to forget about you and live somewhere far away, I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Even though Col thought he could empathize with them, he was ultimately someone in a very stable position. Myuri, who absorbed herself in stories and always assumed herself to be the hero, was more in tune with Gazet’s perspective than he thought.

Because all Col had to do was picture it.

What if one day, after choosing to remain in Nyohhira to work at the bathhouse, they found themselves on the verge of being chased out and banished to a faraway land. All because the wolf on the sign of the bathhouse was considered heretical.

Either they leave, or they take down the sign.

Could they accept these terms without complaint, all because it would ensure their survival? Could they take down the wolf sign, or move their home miles and miles, then greet the dawn with a smile because ultimately no one got hurt?

Col’s expression twisted under Myuri’s straightforward gaze.

But ultimately, the job of the Twilight Cardinal was to remain facing forward while others supported him, no matter how unfavorable the wind.

“Why don’t we send some of Captain Vadan’s mice to the Holy See to follow after Archivist Canaan?”

Myuri’s wolf ears piqued.

“Paper’s natural enemy is the mouse.”

Canaan said that without the documents, inquisitors would be unable to act.

Especially when it came to cases that happened in the distant past, after eras had changed.

It would guarantee that Gazet and his people would no longer need to fear the looming shadow of an inquisitor—but as that thought crossed Col’s mind, he placed a hand to his forehead.

They could not rely on that.

They had no way of proving to Berlind or Ziad that there was nothing wrong with Gazet’s faith.

And that was exactly why the realistic prince-electors decided it would be best to nip danger in the bud before it bloomed into something that could no longer be neatly dealt with. And perhaps they had faced harm because they had underestimated danger in the past.

Building a road to the south would undoubtedly become a turning point in their fight against the Church. If they successfully managed to shine a light on the Church’s tyranny, then the lives of tens, hundreds of thousands of people would be changed, and many injustices would be removed from the world.

But how many were those who called themselves villagers of Fornan? Would the scales balance if they discarded this plan for their sake?

If they could save these poor rootless people, then Col’s conscience would likely be satisfied.

But if he were to look at all those who would suffer under the Church’s tyranny in the future, he would undoubtedly think this: the reason they suffer, the reason those clad in holy robes grow rich and fat would all because he hesitated.

A dog could not pick up a bone off the ground with meat still in its mouth, or so sang the bards.

Col held his breath; something heated swirled inside him with no way out.

Faces of those he had met along the way flashed through his mind—including the nonhumans.

And in front of him stood a reliable wolf girl.

If they managed to pull off a miracle that would silence Berlind and Ziad, then…

That was when it dawned on him.

Myuri’s eyes suddenly went wide, and all the fur on her ears stood on end.

The mouse that had been grooming itself on her shoulder scuttled into the folds of her clothes in a panic.

She then whirled around to look at a man, illuminated by the waning moon.

“S-stand back, Brother!”

The man had appeared from thin air, and yet when Myuri faced him, her hand rested not on the sword at her hip, but the pouch of wheat around her neck.

A nonhuman.

His long black hair faded into the shadow of the mansion, and his cold-blooded eyes almost seemed closed as he gazed at them.

And yet this person wore the robes of the Church.

Col could not believe what he was seeing.

Hanging ostentatiously around the man’s neck was the crest of the Church, painted black.

That was something he had only heard of in rumor—proof that he was an inquisitor.

“It seems you know what this is already,” the man said. “You’ve saved me time on a self-introduction.”

He must have noticed what Col was looking at. The man’s thin lips parted in a smile as he took the crest at his chest in hand, and then turned his attention to Myuri.

A nonhuman inquisitor.

Standing before them was a contradiction, like ice on fire.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m not your enemy.”

Regardless of how Col responded, Myuri held on to every part of her hostility.

She did not trust this man at all.

“…Did you need something from us?”

The man had appeared before them at this critical moment, in the dark of night.

It could not be a coincidence. But instead of an answer, he rummaged through his pocket, pulled out a bundle of fabric, and tossed it to them.

Myuri’s tail swelled, as though she had been struck by lightning.

“I’d like to have a little chat with you.”

What landed at their feet was the stationery case Canaan always carried with him.

“Because I think you might be in a bit of a pickle.”

His mouth curved into a red crescent of a smile.

Col was overcome by a sense of déjà vu when he picked up Canaan’s stationery case.

He brushed off the dirt and looked at the other man.

“Something like this happened in an old tale of yours, no?” said the nonhuman inquisitor with delight.

He was talking about when Col was a child.

When he traveled with a peddler and a wolf spirit, his bag had been stolen.

This man knew about that incident.

Myuri growled, her teeth clenched as though she was chomping down on the man’s eeriness, but Col found himself calm.

“Yes, something similar happened. And it was purely a threat that did not come with any actual harm.”

The man’s eyes rounded slightly, and he hummed in approval.

“You would be correct,” he said. “I may have spooked, and perhaps greatly saddened the owner of that case, but I did not harm him. Make sure you give that back to him. He is a very talented clerk, you know.”

He also knew Canaan’s identity.

The man standing before them was a true inquisitor.

And the reason he knew of Col’s old stories was because he was not human.

Huskins, a sheep spirit, had once told him briefly that bits of the story of the peddler and the wolf spirit had spread among nonhumans.

“My name is Roche,” said the man.

“I am Tote Col.”

Myuri growled instead of giving her name.

Had Col been alone, he would surely have failed to keep his cool; silently, he gave thanks to the reassuring presence beside him, and then turned his attention back to Roche.

“And you want to speak with us?”

“I do. I thought it might be about time we work together.”

Roche’s casual suggestion went in one ear and out the other.

“What did you say?” Col asked.

“We work together. You, and me.”

Roche pointed at Col, then rested his hand on his own chest.

It was a grandiose, unnatural movement, but that made it easy to understand.

“Brother,” Myuri warned.

Perhaps this would make him disobedient, but at the very least, the other man showed himself to them first.

No matter how self-assured this inquisitor was, he was not totally free from danger—especially so if he knew that Myuri was a wolf. He was not here to simply tease them.

“I may not know much,” Col began. “But I do know that what you wear around your neck is the sign of an inquisitor.”

“You would be correct,” Roche said. “But inquisitors who roam outside would not wear this.”

Inquisitors hid in the shadows, stalked God’s enemies, and apprehended them.

They did not often walk around with identifying information on their persons, but that also meant this man was a man of status so high that he did.

“I would say you should ask Canaan how high of an office I have, but…I would prefer you keep this a secret from him.”

“Why?”

Roche drew up his shoulders, like a bird resting on a tree branch.

“The more secretive a relationship is, the more meaning it has.”

There was a chilling smile on his face, but his eyes were serious.

Col sighed deeply.

“Shall we take this conversation elsewhere? Staying here while we talk will make us stick out like sore thumbs.”

“A lovely idea,” Roche agreed. “A moonlit stroll with the Twilight Cardinal…Though I suppose the moon isn’t quite full enough for that, is it?”

Myuri glanced at Col, as though asking him if he were still sane, but once he began to walk, she reluctantly followed.

She was right behind Roche, a sign to him that she could rip him to shreds at any moment.

Roche, however, did not seem to mind in the slightest.

“Let me get to the point—I do not think it advisable for us to fight.”

“…Us?”

“Us. The Church, and everyone else.”

Roche glanced at Col and smiled.

At some point, he had put away the black crest that showed he was an inquisitor; now, he simply looked like a high-ranking member of the clergy.

“I understand your position, and it is true that our efforts to clean away the rot have not been very productive,” Roche continued. “But we can influence regions around the world precisely because local churches have power.”

“And what—?”

The rest of the sentence caught in Col’s throat.

He did not know what it was this man was after…this nonhuman inquisitor.

“What are you?”

The faint smile on Roche’s lips vanished for a brief moment.

But soon, his fake smile came back.

“What am I? Now that’s an interesting question.”

“An owl,” Myuri said from behind them.

Like a criminal with a spear at his back, Roche raised both of his hands to about shoulder height.

“I am indeed. I am both an owl and an inquisitor.”

“I thought you might be a bat, considering you’re a traitor,” Myuri snapped at him.

Roche smiled in genuine delight.

“I always assumed wolves were humans’ enemy.”

“Myuri,” Col scolded his sister, who still gripped her pouch of wheat, and then turned to look at Roche.

“Why did you become an inquisitor?” he asked.

Why would a nonhuman take on the role of their natural enemy, the inquisitor?

Myuri expressed it as being a traitor, but Roche, strangely enough, did not seem to be one.

And Col had a faint feeling he knew what the answer might be.

“To save my people.”

“I thought so.”

Perhaps Myuri’s surprise was directed not at Roche’s answer, but at Col, who claimed to understand. Col was not a particularly intuitive person, but there were some things he had learned to notice through his own experience. Because there was meaning in the way Roche had recounted Col’s own tales of the past and threw Canaan’s stationery case to him.

The way the owl in front of him looked at him told him that Roche knew—no, he understood him.

“I suppose it’s only natural for the Twilight Cardinal to be so astute. This has cemented my belief that we should join forces.”

“Brother…?”

Myuri’s aghast tone drew Col’s attention.

He gave her a soft smile, then turned back to Roche.

“I would not call it astute. I simply left my childhood home for the same reason.”

“I know the story, yes. The village where you were born worshipped a great big frog. This frog god stopped a flood and saved the village when it was about to be washed away.”

Col had no reason to worry over where Roche might have heard that story. He told that story to the priestess he would call his master, the one who introduced him to faith when he was a child. And his master was the one who presided over the wedding between Myuri’s parents.

Col continued the story himself.

“One day, the Church brought soldiers to that entire region to dispatch of the pagans. All our neighboring villages were devastated and burnt to the ground, one after the other. The only reason my village was safe was because the priest commanding the army happened to fall ill, and so he withdrew his men.”

“I hear he fell ill due to excess drinking,” Roche said.

There was jest in his voice, but Col would not be surprised if it were real.

That was just how unfair, and how mighty, the Church was.

“That was how I learned the only way to protect my village from the Church was to borrow the Church’s power. That was the moment I decided to join the clergy. Afterward, as I learned more of God’s teachings, I saw how wonderful they could be if followed properly, and began dreaming in earnest of becoming a priest.”

At the end of his story, he added—

“You are an inquisitor for the same reason.”

Roche eyes lit up, and he nodded with glee. “Though I do not seem to have your trust,” he said.

“Of course not,” Col replied.

Perhaps the hurt on his face was an act. Like a merchant ready to sell a get-rich-quick scheme, Roche leaned forward.

“What do you think? We are the same. And I believe our paths wend in the same direction. I always hope for peace, you know.”

“………”

The reason Col could not readily agree was not only because he could not trust Roche.

There were plenty of tyrants named in history who massacred unthinkable numbers of civilians, all in the name of peace.

“Imagine,” the owl inquisitor began. “You successfully build a road to the south. Forces from the north can easily flood the southlands. The north will hold the metaphorical high ground, leaving the south at a disadvantage. The emperor would not let an opportunity like that pass. Did word of taking back territory the pope took from him ever make it to you?”

Col was certain this time that his surprise did not show on his face. The imperial court was large and complex—a spy or two could easily slip in. Or perhaps the emperor’s ambition to retake his land from the pope was simply that famous.

“If we allow the emperor’s territorial greed to go unchecked, then we will soon find ourselves embroiled in a big war.”

Roche kept his eyes on Col.

The smile was gone from his face.

“Twilight Cardinal, you believe that speaking at the ecumenical council will solve everything.”

“That…is what I am praying for.”

“And has God ever answered your prayers?”

Never.

The reason Col did not force himself to look away was because doing so would paradoxically be the same as answering Roche’s question.

Roche smiled, touched by his display of willpower, and clasped his hands behind his back.

“But you and I can have a conversation. We both wield great influence over our camps. In short, if we work together, we can prevent matters from worsening as a result of idle suspicions. And with a little guidance from us to the main parties of this dispute, we can put a neat little bow on everything, no?”

Inquisitors were warriors who fought on God’s behalf, and typically, those words would be said for the benefit of the Church.

Col trusted not a word of what was said to him, but there was one troubling point about Roche.

He was not human.

That alone gave his idea verisimilitude.

His role as an inquisitor meant he was aware of the internal affairs of a nonhuman’s greatest enemy before anyone else did. And considering the crest around his neck showed he held a high office, this meant he was in a position where he could command inquisitors himself.

There was no more convenient position to be in to save other nonhumans from the shadows.

And more importantly, the fact he was not human said he was not a loyal ally of the Church more loudly and aggressively than any essay of millions of words could ever accomplish.

“That we chanced upon each other here must be a sign.”

Roche straightened himself and adjusted his tone of voice.

He began to walk, his hands still folded behind his back. His steps were as light as though he were taking a casual stroll.

As Col began to walk in concert with him, the nonhuman inquisitor said quietly, “Do you know why the Moon-Hunting Bear halted the army’s march northward?”

The crunch of dirt he heard was Myuri stumbling over herself.

Roche turned around and smiled at her.

“I carry on the Moon-Hunting Bear’s will.”

His eyes were unfocused; they gazed into distant memories.

Though a wolf stood right behind him in the dark of the night, he showed not a trace of fear.

It impressed upon them that he had seen something far more frightening, that he had seen true violence in this world with his own eyes.

“I suppose it isn’t much more than a task I’ve decided to take on of my own free will, but I watched very carefully as our luminary fought to protect us.”

Roche paused in his steps and looked up.

Above them hung a lonely moon that was not quite full.

“You mean…the Moon-Hunting Bear?” Col asked.

Roche’s eyes softened.

“I never spoke with him directly,” he replied.

“But you saw him,” Col said.

“Yes. Our luminary was majestic, a being who perfectly fit the description of an ancient spirit, as the humans put it.”

It was also the Moon-Hunting Bear who put an end to the age of spirits.

Myuri, a wolf from the new era, hated the bear for killing her kin in the past.

But what Roche just said did not quite sit right.

He said the bear fought to protect them.

“Was it not the Moon-Hunting Bear who routed those same spirits?” Col asked.

“That was an unfortunate incident. It was an era of humans cutting down the forests en masse, so we not only fought humans, but also one another, over shrinking territories.”

“Was the bear’s rampage a part of that?”

Roche slowly shook his head, as though telling Col not to rush ahead.

“At some point during the fighting a thought occurred to me. Unlike us, humans possess and maintain a great base of knowledge, and there are quite a great many of them. They work together, make tools, build towns, and that gives them the ability to live anywhere. But what about us? All we do is protect our own personal slivers of territory for ourselves. We could never hope to work together, much less bring together people outside of station or status, or conceive of a faith that would allow us to endure hardship. And that was when I realized it was only a matter of time before we lost to humans.”

The owl was at times called the wise master of the forest.

Roche sighed slightly, like a world-weary sage.

“The Moon-Hunting Bear, too, considering how great he was, saw how this fight with the humans would end. Because if he alone could not win, then no one would be able to win.”

“The Moon-Hunting Bear alone could not win?”

In the stories, he was described as enormous enough to sit on mountains, and Col had a feeling the legends were true.

Huskins, the golden sheep said to have escaped the Moon-Hunting Bear, told them the bear’s massive form was like that of the moon itself, and that no matter how far one ran from the bear, it remained the same size in the distance.

But Roche continued to speak, his face that of an adult about to dash a child’s dreams.

“No. Because we do not work together. No matter how powerful the individual may be, they still grow tired and need rest. And without another to protect them while they sleep, they will one day lose.”

The Moon-Hunting Bear was the most powerful entity in the age of spirits.

All the stories of the Moon-Hunting Bear had to do with the nighttime—Myuri once asked the simple question of what he was doing in the daytime. Not once had that thought ever crossed Col’s mind.

That was because the Moon-Hunting Bear was a fairy tale, and he could not imagine the bear getting tired, getting hungry, yawning when it got sleepy like everyone else did.

But what if the Moon-Hunting Bear just happened to be a larger-than-normal nonhuman?

That was what Roche was saying.

“But…I don’t understand,” Col said. “In the old stories, the spirits are constantly fighting against the Moon-Hunting Bear. And it was not the humans who lost—it was the spirits.”

And that was why Myuri was listening to this conversation while a growl rumbled deep in her throat.

“Yet you said the Moon-Hunting Bear was trying to protect you.”

Another contradiction—like an owl working as an inquisitor.

“It’s simple,” Roche replied. “The luminary wanted humans and spirits to coexist.”

“…What?”

Col was so stunned he couldn’t tell if it was he or Myuri who spoke.

“But his goals were much too idealistic,” Roche continued. “Coexistence sits nice in the ears, but in reality, it essentially demands we give up our territories to humans. The humans, too, could not easily tell beasts of the forests who could not speak apart from our noble selves. The farmer hates the beast for eating the chicken he worked so hard to raise. The mother hates the beast for killing her daughter, who went to collect nuts in the forest, and left nothing but bones. We were blamed for these things. Though I suppose there’s no way to tell how innocent we really were in that regard.”

Roche turned an eye to Myuri, a look that seemed to be part mean-spirited jest, but part of the blood flowing through her did belong to that of a wolf.

“Either way, the great bear was filled with a sense of justice,” Roche went on. “So he stepped between us and the humans to quell the fighting. He believed it was his duty as the most powerful being in the world.”

He gave a deep sigh and shook his head.

“But what do you think happened when he did that? From a human’s point of view, the bear would of course side with the beasts. In our eyes, he fought for the humans. The kindly bear attempted to halt the fighting…only to be seen as an enemy from both sides.”

The Moon-Hunting Bear was so great and powerful that its greatness and strength was the only thing that lived on in the stories and nothing else—not his personality, not his hopes. The only ones who lived to speak of him turned their backs to the moon and ran.

Yet despite taking down all his enemies, the bear claimed no victory, then abruptly vanished.

Why did he cause so much violence, then vanish from the stage of history?

For what reason?

But what if the bear did not want that fight in the first place?

“At the time, the southlands already belonged to the humans,” Roche said. “The lands in the north were harsh, and it was still too difficult for them to settle down there in appreciable numbers. But once humans decide they want to do something, nothing will stop them. And because of that, the luminary loathed the idea of a road passing through these mountains.”

The conversation had looped from the ancient past back to the present.

Col pictured the Moon-Hunting Bear with its hand on the ridgeline surrounding Wobern, frowning down upon the mountains.

What was he thinking as he gazed over the land?

Even Col and Myuri were shocked by how close the north and south were when they saw the south from atop the cliff.

“Because it would link the north and the south?” Col asked.

Roche shrugged.

As they strolled the nighttime paths speaking of the Moon-Hunting Bear, Col suddenly felt as though he was unsure if this was a dream or reality.

He turned to look at Myuri, because he wanted her to howl if he ended up getting bewitched.

It was always the hunting dog who saved the hunter when a forest spirit deceived him.

“Adding muddied water to clear water means the water will never be the same again. But the muddied water has a clear advantage, no?” Roche mused.

“Are humans supposed to be muddied water?” Col asked.

“I am talking about the difference in strength between the delicate river fish and the catfish.”

Humans could live anywhere.

They could live even on remote islands surrounded by icy seas, places that could only be described as merciless.

“That poor, sweet bear wished to at least slow the rate humans would spread northward. Perhaps he believed if he could buy enough time, both sides might one day find a way to coexist. But no one understood the bear’s purpose, and so he stood alone at the center of the fighting. Even though doing so would only earn him hatred from both sides.”

The faint smile on Roche’s face seemed as though he was reflecting on the Moon-Hunting Bear’s naïveté and foolishness with incredible tenderness.

Either as a distant memory, or as an old, bitter tale.

“That brings us to you and me.”

Roche came to a stop and looked at Col.

His whole appearance was suspicious; all his emotions seemed like a sham.

Yet the deception was so complete and all-encompassing, the fakeness itself began to feel like a fabrication.

Did two negatives make a positive?

The question that would leave scholars in hundreds of abbeys scratching their heads perhaps served as Roche’s unique armor.

He became an inquisitor to collect information on all the nonhumans around the world and to get a better grasp on the Church’s power. Doing so would allow him to save a great many people. But to keep his position, Roche himself would have to keep lying. He would have to deceive his colleagues, deceive his subordinates, and fool all those who served him.

And the inhabitants of the forest, the very ones he was trying to save, would see him as a traitor.

Roche had to keep smiling.

All for his goals.

“Is the reason you showed yourself to us here because a road south would greatly influence the outcome of the fight against the Church?” Col asked.

“Yes,” Roche replied. “As large as he was, the Moon-Hunting Bear saw all things from a great vantage point. The area in the south of this mountainous region serves as the final buffer zone between the north and the south, one that has survived to this day. To open a hole through it would bring the north and the south dangerously close. Of course, the ones who live in the north now are not us, but the same humans who live in the south, and while I would like to let them squabble among themselves as they please, there are limits. If the most powerful entities in the human world—the empire and the Church—exchange blows, then the world will descend into chaos once more. Who knows how much that will affect those of us who have found places in human society, however awkwardly, not to mention the precious few who remain in the forests. This mountain range acts as a fence to separate two savage dogs as they glare at each other.

“I mean nothing by the savage dog metaphor, by the way,” he added deliberately. “This is a critical moment. And at the same time, this is a golden opportunity for me.” He clapped his hands. “Because you are in need of help, and I can help you solve your troubles. This is a rare chance for me to show you my skill and trustworthiness.”

Col mouthed Gazet’s name silently.

Why were he and his people in such a difficult position?

It was because they had once been pursued by inquisitors.

It was clear that Roche had been watching Col and Myuri for a very long time from the way he knew stories about them that only their family knew.

All the time that observation would have taken told Col this proposal for cooperation was not an idea that had come about in the past few days.

Roche had been very carefully waiting for the right moment, so that he would not fail.

Because an arrangement with a traitor was not something that could be discussed over multiple meetings, like a consultation.

It was like a secret door that opened exactly once when the stars aligned.

“Inquisitor Roche, do you mean to tell me that you can save the forest dwellers?”

Myuri held her breath as though she was going to say something.

She clearly wanted to say, You can’t actually be thinking of working with him!

In contrast, the inquisitor smiled.

“Of course I can,” Roche said. “Gazet, was it? First, apprehend him and his people and hand them over to us inquisitors.”

“No!”

Myuri had reached her limit, but Col raised a hand to stop her, then nodded at Roche to continue.

“You are hostile to the Church, but at the same time, you believe in the righteousness of God’s teachings. To hand over those under suspicion of heresy to an inquisitor is a proper act of faith. If you did so, how do you think the rest of the world would see you?”

It was frustratingly reasonable.

“We would be able to show the world that we are not trying to undermine the Church’s authority,” Col mused.

“Correct. And then, once you hand Gazet and his people over to me, I would be able to dictate how they’re dealt with in a manner that I see fit. This would also benefit you.”

“Brother…Don’t let him trick you,” Myuri growled.

But Col’s eyes remained focused on Roche.

Because he understood the logic.

“The world would be shocked by your actions,” Roche continued. “Many of the clergy especially, I believe—the ones who agree with the ideals raised by the Twilight Cardinal, but who would not go so far as wanting to undermine the Church’s authority. They will certainly start looking at you in a different light. They may start to think of you not as a destroyer of the Church, but a reformer, who is only forcing the Church to swallow bitter medicine.”

That was something Col himself had said countless times.

He did not want to dismantle the Church—he wanted to make it better.

But there were a considerable number of people who assumed the Twilight Cardinal wanted to destroy it.

Though Col hated to admit it, Roche understood him much better than he thought.

“Of course, I promise to use my power to officially acquit Gazet and his people. I know the prince-electors have been wary of interference from the Church—once Gazet and his people are acquitted, the prince-electors will no longer have anything to worry about. You would be able to focus on opening a road south. Then the depraved officials of the Church should wake upon feeling the frigid winds blowing from the north.”

Roche spoke like a traitor within the Church’s walls, beckoning the enemies in.

But it was only at that point that Roche’s true strategy would begin.

“…And once the road opens, you and I will control the situation and direct events away from the fires of war,” Col said.

“Yes,” Roche replied. “Different factions within the Church jostle for position. And because there is so much distance between the north and the south, those who loudly advocate for a do-or-die resistance tend to throw their weight around. But they are only so bullish because they believe everything will work to their advantage. But if someone were to take the clear upper hand, and it becomes clear the enemy can attack from the mountains at any point…then they would surely yelp and tuck their tails between their legs.”

Myuri no longer reacted to his provocations.

With a small smile, Roche shrugged.

“However, even if I were to fight on my own and somehow manage to guide these factions into making peace, there would be little point if the emperor were to mount an attack. Everyone would take up arms and meet him in battle. And if it came to war, then those who have no skill besides violence will begin to throw their weight around. Forests would burn, cities laid to waste, and those of us who live by hiding in the human world would be gravely affected. And most importantly, those who deal in delicate work, like inquisitors, are no longer needed in the rage of war, so I, too, will lose my place.”

It was hard to tell how genuine he was being, but Col at least firmly agreed they were better off without a war.

“And so, Twilight Cardinal, I want you to control those who follow you blindly. The people of the empire, especially, are not of commendable faith. What they do have is an overt desire for power.”

All Col had to do was recall Duran sitting, head bowed, before his cold meal in his hall to understand the relationship between the emperor and the prince-electors. If the emperor said he wanted to take back land the Church took from the empire long ago, then everyone beneath him would have no choice but to do as they were told.

Due to the relationship between the emperor and the electors, the emperor could be stopped if all seven prince-electors came together in united opposition, but Berlind and Gobrea believed siding with the emperor would benefit them the most.

In war, the most reliable ally would become a most fearsome enemy if one changed sides.

Depending on the situation, an encouraging push forward could send someone careening off the edge of a cliff.

Col understood Roche’s logic.

He understood the benefit of discussing this.

But it was an unethical proposal.

“I believe you expect too much of me if you think I can do anything about the emperor,” Col said.

Klevend taught him that humility was a form of rejection.

The reason Roche smiled was certainly because his gentle refusal was a slap in the face.

But, of course, as one might expect from an inquisitor, Roche immediately turned the other cheek.

“You could,” he said. “In fact, you may be the only one who can. You have backing from the Kingdom of Winfiel, a country beyond the mainland. Even if the empire wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to go to war and steal a piece of the papal domain, your position would make it easy for you to restrain them. If the kingdom were to criticize the emperor’s greed, then I believe they would prioritize maintaining friendly relations with the kingdom over warring with the Church.”

Fighting over territories was not something only animals did.

The image came easily to Col; his mouth twisted bitterly.

“But if the Church and the Twilight Cardinal remain opposed, then things will not go so smoothly,” Roche continued. “Because even if you understand how dangerous the empire’s greed for land is, you will have no choice but to rely on them as long as an even more dangerous enemy stands before you.”

A double-edged sword.

Even if the sword posed an ever-present danger, there was little point worrying about it if he could not win the fight he was already in.

That was why he could not let go of the blade.

“But if we were to coordinate behind the scenes…,” Roche said. “Well, that would change everything, Twilight Cardinal.”

“Is it because once we have made the Church cease all hostilities, we can quickly sheathe the dangerous blade that is the emperor?”

Roche smiled, satisfied, as he clapped lightly.

“Look at the bigger picture. Even if the conflict with the Church does conclude as a result of collusion, they would at least shape up. Even I find their lavish lifestyles objectionable, but I do think it can be fixed. In that sense, you will win. And then you would have an obligation from me, a core part of the Church. I believe I can be of use to you. I am the sort to always remember my debts, after all.”

Are you sure you don’t mean you always remember your grudges? Col wanted to say, but he had a feeling Roche would be happy to hear it if he did.

“Of course,” he continued, “to share a confidence with you would be an incredible asset to me.”

“And once the fight with the Church is over, I will set down the name of Twilight Cardinal,” Col said.

Roche then shook his head, astonished.

“That is not where your true value lies. It is…” He gestured toward Myuri with his chin. “Not only the kitten…Ah, my apologies. It is not only the wolf pup who threatens my windpipe. It is the relationships you’ve built with many nonhumans. You have many connections, and deeper bonds with them than I could ever hope to have.”

Crows and dogs did not get along in the city, and Myuri and Sharon were constantly teasing and quarrelling with each other. Meanwhile, Roche’s joke caused Myuri to clench her teeth so tightly, Col thought he could almost hear them.

“As you can see, I am an inquisitor. No one believes me when I say that I do this for my kind. To say that I continue to carry the torch of the Moon-Hunting Bear’s will only earn me even colder looks. And that is why I never have any choice but to extend a helping hand in a roundabout way. But what if I had you?”

Roche flashed a servile smile.

If what he said was the truth, then the Moon-Hunting Bear likely would have smiled in the same way.

“If I could rely on you when I save my kind who hate and detest me, then I could do so much more.”

It was an inquisitor’s job to worm their way into people’s hearts, get them to open up about their secrets, then use that as evidence to send heretics to be burned at the stake.

As the heretics made their way to the stake, they would be confused, panicked—how did their secret get out?

But as they were being dragged along, that was when they would see. The person they trusted so closely chatting and laughing with people of the Church.

Roche was an inquisitor. Yet Col could not find it in himself to call the expression on his face fake.

If it was meant to fool people, then it was only natural people who would be fooled.

This false-looking expression seemed more earnest and heartrending than anything else.

“What do you think?” Roche asked. “I think it’s quite a flawless plan.”

That he said it himself made it seem as though he was hiding his true feelings deep in his heart by playing the part of a clown. Or perhaps he was only acting as though his true feelings were hidden in the depths of his heart.

Col did not know what was real.

But he did know one thing.

“It would indeed be the perfect plan, yes,” Col replied. “If I trusted you.”

This statement was the one truth.

If Col could trust Roche, then there could be no better plan.

“I’m impressed, Twilight Cardinal,” Roche said, speaking in a dramatic tone. And for further theatrical affect, he placed his hands on his hips. “I appreciate how sharp you are. So what do you say?”

Col opened his mouth, then closed it.

“Are you hoping for a thoughtless answer?” he asked.

Roche laughed.

“That it would be, wouldn’t it? Think on it. I shall slow the progress of the messengers making for the lake in the meanwhile.”

The moment he was done speaking, a massive owl somehow leaped from the priest’s robes. It skillfully bundled up its empty fabric shell with its talons, as it would with prey, and then flew off.

It was an astonishingly large owl when its wings were spread, and its talons were so large it could easily whisk away a sheep.

Col shielded his eyes from the dust whipped up from the flapping of its wings, and by the time he lowered his hand, the owl had vanished.

If someone told him it was all a dream, he would believe them.

“…Let us return to the mansion.”

Myuri’s eyes still gleamed a sharp red.

That alone confirmed it was no dream.

She silently wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, and Col decided it was because dust had gotten in her eye.

Once they arrived at the mansion, they found Klevend’s men loitering at the entrance to the great hall, and Vadan’s crew were milling about outside. They were probably on alert, just in case of a night attack.

Col noticed the inside of the hall was relatively empty, but what made him think that was because the feast had been cleared away. When he thought about how all that food had been thrown away, he felt strangely sad about it.

“Took you long enough.”

Klevend emerged from the hall, sighed deeply, pulled over a nearby chair and sat down with a frustrated thud.

It must have been tough commanding people, plus the additional worry that things had turned out like this.

“The prince-elector say anything else?”

“No,” Col said, then added, “Nothing.”

“Guess he wouldn’t.”

Col did not lie due to his faith in God, but that would not diminish the things he wanted to hide.

His conscience ached knowing he was deceiving Klevend, but an arrangement of betrayal was a matter much, much worse—he dare not speak of it.

It was not simply that Roche had told him to keep it a secret. Someone as open-minded as Klevend could easily accept the deceitful arrangement.

And right now, that open-mindedness was a problem.

If Klevend approved of Roche’s proposal, then Col would lose his path of resistance.

Practically speaking, the betrayal Roche had suggested was the best option.

But Col could not find the confidence within himself to say whether this was the right thing to do.

Because this was, beyond any doubt, an act of betrayal.

All he had to do was picture himself leading others, all while hiding his correspondence with Roche.

The Church was powerful, and it wielded more authority than the local ruling lords in some regions, and for some people, standing in opposition to the Church was an act that risked their lives.

And yet people still mustered courage to stand up and speak out. Was it acceptable for Col to stand alongside these people and still covertly communicate with the other side, striking up compromises while he was assured for his own safety from the start?

The plan Roche spoke of was indeed terrifyingly perfect.

It was not something Col could manage with his power alone.

He had even considered bringing rumors of the new continent to the table because open war with the Church seemed a matter of when, not if.

And if he were to weigh the discovery of the new continent against the trust he had for Roche, Roche still felt more tangibly real.

At the very least, Col knew for certain that Roche existed.

“You’re our symbol. Don’t let stuff weigh you down—we’ll help you carry it,” Klevend said, placing a hand on Col’s shoulder.

But who he was looking at was not Col. It was Myuri, who had been silent the whole time.

Col was not the only one with troubled thoughts. Roche had left Myuri with an even heftier parting gift.

The core of the tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear.

Why had the Moon-Hunting Bear fought the spirits, those who were supposed to be his allies, and then vanish without a trace afterward?

If his ambition was to conquer the world, it was strange that he ultimately claimed no crown, and if he simply wanted to wreak havoc, then why did he not wipe out humanity?

This nagging question led Myuri to suggest that it was the Moon-Hunting Bear himself that founded the Church. If that were true, then the reason he wiped out the spirits was clearly to take over the world at his leisure.

But if what Roche said was true, then that turned every assumption on its head.

The possibility that the Moon-Hunting Bear vanished at the far end of the western sea also now held a meaning that pained Col’s heart.

Roche himself said he was one who carried on the Moon-Hunting Bear’s will.

All while wearing that warped, fake smile.

“I sent some of my guys to where the old man was livin’,” Klevend said. “The old man himself wanted to go, too, ’cause he was worried about his people, but I stopped him. I doubt they’re gonna get too far ahead of us in the middle of the night, unless we’re stupider than I think. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Klevend must have thought Myuri was hurt by the gruesome conversation regarding Gazet and his people.

And so he emphasized Gazet and his people’s safety, and probably spoke with more confidence than he truly felt.

“Thank you,” Col said.

“And just give up on tryin’ to convince Prince-Elector Duran,” Klevend continued. “His die’s already been cast. Your words aren’t gonna bring back his conscience at this point. And…sad to say, logic’s on their side.”

The grim expression on Klevend’s face was not simply because he was sympathizing with Gazet, but because he had also been placed in a very difficult position.

The reason he stuck with the Twilight Cardinal could not be only for support.

While Hyland did not say it outright, Klevend had very likely been told to keep an eye on the Twilight Cardinal and make sure he did not get into trouble with the imperial authorities, or that he did not do anything that would be disadvantageous for the kingdom, and so on.

If complications arose with the prince-electors due to the Gazet incident, then part of the blame would lie with Klevend. By extension, Hyland, who was in charge on the kingdom side of things, would also be blamed.

Moreover, the kingdom had placed its bets on the fight against the Church, so making enemies of the empire would be a huge loss for them.

How much would Col have to pay to balance the scales?

“All sorts of things are resting on your decision,” Klevend said. “I don’t want to make it sound like I’m threatening you, but…just think about it.”

It was an earnest attempt to keep Col in check, a reminder not to get carried away by his sense of justice and falling for the prince-electors’ cheap antagonism. It was Klevend’s own pride that kept him from stating his wishes outright.

As the one who acted as the rascally leader to second and third noble sons who had no hopes of ever making it in the world, to compromise in the face of a realistic problem was such a disgraceful thought that he could never do it.

“Please, don’t worry. I am calm,” Col said.

He thought he had put a quiet smile on his face, but the reason Klevend pulled back slightly was not because he was overwhelmed.

“Drunks always insist they’re not drunk.”

With a bitter smile, Col nodded.

He glanced at Myuri, then said to Klevend, “We’ll be returning to our room for the time being.”

“Go ahead. Come to me if you can’t sleep. Me and the boys will be awake.”

“Thank you.”

Col poked his head into the dining room, which was connected to the hall, and sitting in a chair in the corner was Gazet, technically under confinement. Col turned his gaze to him and gave him a respectful nod.

The dutiful Gazet looked like he was about to say something, but he only gripped the hems of his clothes instead.

Perhaps he felt powerless, or responsible. It was because for just a brief moment, they had given him the hope they could save Fornan, and so he must have been in even more agony than if they had done nothing in the first place.

Klevend and his men shared Gazet’s pain of not having a place to belong.

Col wrapped his arm around Myuri’s shoulder and left the hall.

As they walked down the corridor and into the darkness, mice immediately snuck out from the gaps in the wall.

They were likely concerned for Myuri, and at the same time, anxious about what was going to happen next.

Col opened the door to their room, and as he was about to shut it, he said to them, “Please give us some time alone.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The moment the door closed, Myuri leaped straight into Col’s arms, clinging to him.

She gripped his clothes with all her might, and it was quite honestly a bit painful.

But when he thought about the storm of emotions she was trying hard to contain within her, he knew this paled in comparison.

He was her big brother.

“That story about the Moon-Hunting Bear is the one that has made the most sense out of all the stories we’ve heard so far,” Col said.

That was a fact they had to acknowledge, and one they should not ignore.

Myuri certainly understood that, but she growled, and it almost felt as if her temperature went up.

“And all those who live in this day and age don’t seem to hate the Moon-Hunting Bear.”

Of course, he did not go so far as to tell her outright that her shock was unwarranted. What anyone believed in was random chance, and so he could not blame her for harboring dark feelings toward the Moon-Hunting Bear.

And so in place of words, he held her tightly.

Almost like he was helping her hold back the storm.

Myuri’s body was still that of a child—a jumbled mess of soft parts and bone. Hugging her like this made that all the clearer.

As she grew, she would put more meat on her bones, become more graceful, and gain the strength to fight against all the things in this world.

And when it came to strength, Myuri was no ordinary girl.

“How much of what Roche said was a lie?” Col asked.

What he said were not words of comfort, but a serious question.

Myuri’s ears pointed, tense, as though surprised.

“You are a knight,” Col continued. “A knight has no time to mope.”

He knew she could stand firm and tall, and because he had faith in her, he saw this as a show of kindness and respect.

Of course, part of him simply wanted her to disentangle herself from the Moon-Hunting Bear and face the problems in front of them together.

“…You’re so mean,” she said, clearly seeing through his intentions. She pushed hard on his chest to break away from him.

She was not only vigilant, but also had been trained as a hunter. She would be able to pick out any of Roche’s deceptions that Col failed to notice.

Even if she had been thrown off balance by his story of the Moon-Hunting Bear.

“Not really…”

“Not really?” Col asked in return.

Once again, Myuri clung to him, holding on so tight that she buried her face in his chest.

That probably meant she had sensed no deceit from him at all.

When Col considered that Roche was an inquisitor, it was unlikely that he was completely free of deceit, but it was hard to imagine that he had approached them to deceive them on his own accord.

And the glimpses he got of that submissive smile…

Col wrapped his arms around Myuri and gazed up at the ceiling.

He thought he heard the sound of scurrying mice, but there was nothing about this he would rather them not see.

“Let’s say I accept his proposal.”

“—!”

Myuri’s nails dug into his skin. “This is only hypothetical,” he managed calmly. “If I did, then you would feel as though everything I did from now on would be deceptive.”

Because he had preached so much about the importance of faith so far and acted the part of a good person.

How could he betray his allies like that?

All he had to think about was why opportunists were often spoken of so spitefully.

“Of course, I would not think you a fraud if you stopped disparaging the Moon-Hunting Bear.”

Once he said that, she very obviously pinched him in the side.

There were ascetic monks who whipped themselves with thorns, and Col idly thought this was rather similar to that.

“What…am I supposed to do?”

And so he expressed weakness.

Myuri obviously drew up her shoulders, pushed away from him in a panic, and looked up at him.

“It’s all right,” Col said. “I’m not crying.”

Myuri, whose intense feelings were pooling in her eyes as tears, glared at him for a moment, then stomped on his foot.

“What am I to do?”

Simply giving voice to the question instead of keeping it inside made him feel so much lighter.

To have someone who would listen to his troubles was a wonderful thing.

The reason he did not let go of Myuri was the same reason he played with his quill when he was thinking.

The sharp Myuri noticed that right away and slipped from his arms with a frown.

“What do you want to do, Brother?”

And perhaps she had slipped away from thoughts of the Moon-Hunting Bear, too.

She plopped herself onto the bed as she spoke, her tone faintly annoyed, and Col smiled slightly.

“Of course, I want to be like the heroes you are always dreaming about.”

To press through with his convictions and give everyone a happy ending.

But the world was full of people who were more skilled than he, and there were plenty who had extraordinary strength that was beyond anything a human could attain.

The emperor’s arrogance likely went beyond the borders of the empire as well.

Col wanted to remonstrate them for their greed, beat the Church back into shape, and bring about God’s harmony.

Who else could imagine that was possible, besides Myuri?

“If that’s what you want to do, then why don’t you just do it?”

She tossed her suggestion out carelessly, and Col nodded with a smile.

He knew what she wanted to say.

What if he did?

What would be standing in their way?

“First, we must do something about Gazet and his people. We cannot abandon them, but unless we do, I’ll lose the trust of the prince-electors. If I decide to save Gazet regardless, they will think of me as an ignoramus who is fine with making terrible political decisions.”

“Calling you an ignoramus wouldn’t be wrong, though.”

Col glared at Myuri, and she finally grinned.

“And that little sparrow said he’d save the old man and his people in your stead, right?” she asked.

That was retaliation for being called a kitten, and it was unmistakably a child’s insult.

“The reason you aren’t taking the little sparrow up on his idea is because that’d be betraying everyone else.”

Say, for the sake of argument, even if Col was able to discuss this proposal with Klevend, he most definitely could not with Hyland.

Back when the fight against the Church was nothing more than a foolish daydream, Hyland remained uncompromising and stood firm in her beliefs. The reason Col decided to leave the bathhouse of those to whom he owed so much was because he had been drawn to Hyland’s staunch faith and character.

Could he truly ask her to bend her faith now, after all this time?

“But, Brother…”

“Yes?”

Myuri, sitting on the bed, looked at Col.

“He knows everything about us.”

Her short, flat tone was not the joking one she spoke with earlier.

Because it was the simple, crucial, and unmistakable truth.

“Father’s safe so long as he has Mother. But…”

“An inquisitor appearing at the bathhouse would be enough to drive them from Nyohhira.”

And even if the bathhouse was not their target, Col had made plenty of acquaintances on his travels. Since Roche had looked into his past, he had likely come up with plenty of people important to Col who could be taken hostage.

How long could Col hold with his faith in a situation like that? Only God knew.

“Then why don’t we capture him?” Myuri asked.

The way she asked was much more timid than her unreasonable ideas from earlier.

That was because there was a drop of earnestness in her suggestion. The problem surrounding Gazet would remain, but eliminating Roche from the picture would at least remove one tangle of problems.

“…Typically, driving away an inquisitor who appears on your doorstep does not solve the problem.”

Inquisitors were not individuals. They were an organization.

“And Roche is most certainly keeping that in mind. I think…the way he transformed so quickly must be part of it.”

Myuri looked as though she had swallowed something bitter.

“I was surprised by how he transformed, too. I pictured myself attacking him with my sword, or with my claws or fangs over and over in my head.”

“But you could not land a single hit.”

Myuri neither confirmed nor denied Col’s conclusion, but considering how stubborn this rambunctious girl was, her silence was as good as a confirmation.

“And he could easily steal you away, Brother.”

Her gaze was unusually harsh because he had, in fact, been kidnapped before.

Col sighed and paced in a circle around the room; ultimately, he sat down next to Myuri.

“It’s much too dangerous to turn down Roche’s proposal, and the benefits to accepting his proposal are much too great. We just need to try and understand why he came to us and revealed his identity. He certainly believes we will not turn him down.”

And the reason Roche’s idea was paralyzing Col’s heart like a poison was because by accepting the brand of traitor, he could paint a future that would save so many people.

Luckily, he had someone beside him who understood that pain.

Which meant…

“When you’re in pain, I’m in pain,” she said.

It was an important reminder.

She must have known immediately what he was thinking about just from the look on his face.

“It’s different if I want to inflict pain on you myself, though.”

“…You truly are starting to resemble your mother.”

Myuri frowned slightly—a spirit of rebellion that came precisely because she was the child of someone so great.

I am me, was what she was saying.

But when Myuri turned her gaze away from Col, she sat thinking for a brief moment.

“Brother?”

“Hmm?”

She did not speak right away. Slowly, she opened her mouth as though to check, unsure of what was in her own throat.

“I don’t want you to become the person he wants you to be.”

“…All right.”

“I thought that was because I really hated him.”

She must have recalled all his sarcasm and jabs—and peeled back her lips to bare her fangs and growl.

But she slowly calmed, and once again returned to herself as the daughter of the wisewolf.

“But as time’s passed…I got the feeling that isn’t it.”

“It’s not?” Col asked, and Myuri furrowed her brow. Perhaps the discomfort in her heart was yet to take a solid form, or perhaps she simply did not want to accept reality.

She grasped the edge of the bed with both hands, drew her shoulders up to her ears, and thought hard.

She looked as though she had found a tiny grain of sand in her bread.

“Yeah…I think the reason I don’t want you to be what he wants you to be…is because you don’t need to.”

Col looked at Myuri, but she did not return the favor. She was still searching for something.

That, too, seemed like a vain struggle.

A moment of thought would tell either of them that Roche knew everything about them.

He knew so many people who he could take hostage. Not only that, but Roche’s idea was not one that went against Col’s interests. If anything, it would bring about the exact end result Col was hoping for.

That was because Roche would be willing to work together with him on things he had been worried about—not only would Gazet and his people be saved from extermination, but their conflict with the Church would also be steered away from open warfare before it had a chance to flare up.

Roche had indeed threatened them. But he had no other choice. And while Col always had the opportunity to turn him down on emotional grounds, how this conflict with the Church turned out was too significant for the rest of the world.

It was much too dangerous to leave those decisions to the conscience of a young, naive idealist.

And so Roche attempted to bind him to an agreement of betrayal, all while adding a dash of a threat.

Col felt uneasy, as though he were being made to walk on a path laid for him. Plus, there was the reality that to walk that path, he would have to compromise his own principles and betray many people.

But, as it were, that was the only thing working against him.

The simple act of agreeing to the plan would allow them to avoid so many tragedies that were inevitably waiting for them on the road ahead.

All he had to do was think back on Duran, reeling and overwhelmed in his great hall. Power came not just from physical strength, and it was very difficult to stop once it had been set in motion.

They had summoned lightning from the storm clouds of the empire to spook the insolent clergy.

But beyond those dark clouds blew the winds of a gale that was hungry for more territory.

Once let loose upon the land, many people—both human and nonhuman—would be caught in its path.

Ultimately, as the conflict with the Church progressed, would they be able to successfully seal the storm back in the box from which it came? Roche had decided the answer was no, so he reached out to the Twilight Cardinal to put a check on this conflict, all so that those storm clouds did not draw too close to the south.

Even if that meant trampling on the pure faith of thousands.

No—if Roche was truly one who inherited the Moon-Hunting Bear’s will as he had claimed, then perhaps faith was never involved to begin with.

That made his plan deeply sinful, but at the same time, the correct decision.

Roche proposed this idea to Col while showing the resolve to take everything away from him was, in a way, a display of total honesty. Because this plan could not fail. Becoming the villain was a trivial concern for him.

And if Col refused Roche’s proposal, then he doubted he would have another chance.

Ironically, a conspiracy required deep trust from all parties involved.

Once Col turned him down, Roche would no longer trust him.

He also need not think very hard about what would happen to humans who learned Roche’s secret but refused to cooperate.

Col understood well why Myuri hated the idea of going along with Roche’s idea.

But perhaps he had no choice but to drink from the bitter cup for the greater good—

“Oh, I know.”

What suddenly reached his ears was Myuri’s voice, too light for what the situation called for.

He lifted his head from the mire to see her tail wagging eagerly, like puppy enthusiastically playing in that same mire.

“He has no friends.”

“…………What?”

His voice came out sounding a bit silly.

But Myuri looked at him, extremely serious.

“Just think, Brother.”

“A-about what?”

“The last thing he said to us. The mercenary king sent out a messenger to capture old man Gazet’s people, right?”

“Er, yes…”

“Do you remember what he said when he went to give you time to think?”

I shall slow the messengers.

What about it?

After a moment of doubt, Col, too, felt like he had bitten into a stone in his bread.

“Oh, does that mean…he has no collaborators?”

Myuri gave a mean little grin.

“Maybe he is an important person in the Church, but he has no friends there.”

“Well, maybe he…”

He was not human, and more importantly, he had come to them proposing an act of betrayal.

His colleagues could not know…But when that thought came to him, he noticed something was odd.

He had felt irritated, like he was not supposed to realize he was dreaming.

It was Myuri, who was always indulging in fantasy, that clearly noticed this was a dream.

“Brother, all his threats are illusions. Even Canaan’s stationery case only smelled like the sparrow. If he had authority and if this really was that much of an important matter, then would he really do all these dumb little chores himself? He’s just good enough at talking that he made us believe that he has allies who can hurt everyone important to us.”

What did Col say to Myuri when she suggested they capture him?

That inquisitors were not individuals, but a group, so capturing one of them would not—

“So you don’t need to be the person he wants you to be, and if you don’t like what he’s doing, then I could rip him to shreds right now and give you the chance to end this without anyone else knowing it ever happened.”

Roche was taking care of menial tasks on his own. He could not tell anyone else about this plan or ask them for help. He had no choice but to carry this out on his own.

Col then recalled that obsequious smile he occasionally flashed.

And what Roche himself had said.

“The Moon-Hunting Bear was alone, too,” Col mused.

The fur on Myuri’s wolf ears and tail stood on end for a moment, and she huffed.

“That’s why the comfortable future he promised is fishy, too. Because it’s totally possible that he could keep making you betray people and then in the end say he couldn’t do anything. He’s not as big as he talks himself up to be. He’s just good at making himself look like it. But I don’t think the plan itself sounded like a lie, so, maybe, uhh…”

She placed her chin on a balled-up fist and hunched over to think—looking just like Lawrence after he found his way out of a tight spot on that journey from many years ago.

“Oh! I think he does want to work with you. And his goal is…probably also real. But the idea that he could do it on his own is probably a lie. Without your help, he has no hope of making his dreams come true. And so…” Myuri stared straight at Col. “…He threatened you and pushed you to make a decision.”

The reason he had made vague threats was not because he was strong.

It was because he was weak.

“Roche is not as scary as he looks?” Col asked.

“Yeah,” Myuri replied. “I think he purposefully showed up at night just to make himself seem more frightening.”

Col doubted the idea at first, but the suggestion was not too far-fetched.

The mood of a situation was important.

As was one’s appearance.

So many things of late had made Col painfully aware of both these facts.

“He’s alone. He’s alone…”

The wind blew, pushing the dark clouds in his imagination away.

Once again, he pictured the situation in his mind.

If Roche was indeed fighting on his own, then Col could easily get the upper hand.

Even the Moon-Hunting Bear grew tired and became defenseless without anyone to rely on when he was sleeping.

“I am so glad I’ve been through everything that I have,” he thoughtlessly murmured aloud, and Myuri stared wide-eyed at him. “Because I’ve made so many allies I can rely on.”

Though Myuri did not smile, her tail began to thump loudly against the bed.

Like a puppy excited to receive treats.

“And you are the best among them, of course,” Col reassured her.

She immediately threw herself at him, practically headbutting him, and they fell onto the bed together.

As he listened to the steady rhythm of her wagging tail, he gazed at the ceiling and gave himself a moment to arrange his thoughts.

As the image he had of Roche in his mind shrunk, his view of the situation became clearer.

Things hidden by those owl wings soon came back into view.

“This is just a thought, Myuri, but…”

“Hmm?”

Myuri, who was busy rubbing her nose into his chest, turned only her gaze to him.

“What if Master Lehmann, the one who guided Gazet and his people, was Roche?”

“……”

Myuri’s mouth opened slightly, just wide enough for a finger to fit inside, and a scowl soon colored her face as she stared into space.

“Ugh…I could totally see that. It’d be perfect for how insignificant that guy actually is.”

Her manner of speech growing so foul was one of the very few regrets Col had on this journey, but the more important thing now was to collect his thoughts.

“When Miss Amaretto pointed it out, I started to wonder if it was truly okay to think of it as a coincidence that Gazet and his people came from a land so far away, chasing the tale of the Moon-Hunting Bear, and eventually found that piece of land.”

“So you’re saying the first inquisitor who found them was the little sparrow?”

There was no way for either Col or Myuri to tell whether the legend of the Moon-Hunting Bear was real or not.

But of all the stories and people who had seen it that had survived into the present day, Roche was the only one who held a positive view of the Moon-Hunting Bear. He had also said that the bear had chosen the wrong methods.

Perhaps in an age where the fighting between humans and spirits was at its most ferocious, Roche was of the same opinion as the bear. But no one would listen, so humans fought spirits, spirits fought one another, and he could do nothing but watch as his people wasted away.

When thinking of it that way, Col felt everything start to connect.

Why he had found a people who still passed down stories of the Moon-Hunting Bear, and why he had brought them to that land.

And why he was acting as an inquisitor, of all things.

“…It’s so the Moon-Hunting Bear will never be forgotten.”

Nonhumans were not the only people Roche could save as an inquisitor.

He could save the heretical stories that still survived across the world.

When he murmured that, Myuri righted herself to sit cross-legged on the bed.

“Canaan said the inquisitors chasing the old man and his people were holding back.”

“But if Roche orchestrated this entire thing from beginning to end to lead them back to those woods…”

Myuri drew up her shoulders.

“I have a feeling that’d explain a lot of things.”

“A people who abandoned their homelands to move to a distant place generations ago relied on legends passed down through their families to successfully return to their homelands. Not only that, but there they found a hermit interested in the very same legend there, who even directed them in the ways of life in the forest when Gazet and his people had no home.”

“If all that is supposed to be a coincidence, then I’d probably be able to marry you.”

Col did not quite understand what she meant, but he grasped what she wanted to say.

It would be a gamble whether their hypothesis was correct or not, and there was nothing more important than weighing the risks and rewards of every gamble.

If their hypothesis was true, then what reward would come of it?

“If…and only if our guess is correct, would that not greatly change this entire situation?” he mused.

Myuri’s eyes went wide for a moment, and then a grin quickly crossed her face.

“If he’s the one who led the old man and his people through the forest, then he’s going to protect them no matter what.” She folded her arms, her tail thumped against the bed. “They had a hidden stream and everything, right? If he’s the one who took the time to prepare the forest for them, long enough for those fruit-bearing trees to grow that big, then he wouldn’t abandon them at the drop of a hat.”

“Then the premise for the betrayal…changes.”

Col was not the only one worried about Gazet and his people.

Roche had to be the same, so the offer to save Gazet and his people was no bargaining chip.

“If anything, that puts you at an advantage, Brother,” Myuri said.

That was when it hit him.

She was right.

Was that not the exact reason why Roche had to make himself seem so big and scary?

And once that thought came to him, Col noticed something odd.

Roche stood before them, crooked smile on his face, and offered to cooperate in creating a peaceful world.

Yet the premise came with suspicion and threats.

The overall picture did not quite add up, as though a piece was still missing. As he thought about this, Myuri spoke up.

“But this only makes sense if he’s the one who saved the old man and his people, right?”

Col pulled his thoughts back and looked to Myuri, only to see the wild girl was already pulling the pouch of wheat off her neck.

“There.”

“Myuri?”

“It’d be faster if I just go check for myself, right?”

With a carefree smile, Myuri consciously leaned in close and sniffed him.

No matter how much one tried to dress things up, smell was always difficult to change.

If she were to run around the forest where Gazet and his people lived, she would notice any traces of Roche’s scent right away.

“If I’m wrong, then I’m wrong, and we can just think some more. And if it really comes down to it, I can tear him to shreds.”

Myuri’s positive attitude toward violence was rather heartening in the darkness.

Col may have been the Twilight Cardinal, but she was the Saint of the Sun.

“I know the way, and I’ll be back before dawn.”

Just as she was about to pull some wheat from the pouch, Col said, “Are you sure you can come back safely?”

She paused.

She had no right to badmouth Roche after all, it seemed. She had been so close to getting carried away by sheer momentum.

“If our hypothesis is correct, then Roche will absolutely try to stop you.”

Roche’s true form was a clearly supernatural owl, one that was over twice the size of Sharon.

Those talons would be attacking a wingless wolf who could do nothing more than run on the ground.

Myuri shrugged with a nonchalant look.

“That would just prove we’re right anyway.”

“And your safety?”

Myuri pretended not to hear him with any of her four ears.

“Can you guarantee that you will not get hurt?”

She dropped her shoulders and sighed deeply, then turned to glare at Col.

“You literally just called me a knight. So it’s only times like these that you treat me like a girl?”

“I would treat you the same if you were a boy. If you were taken hostage, then I would do absolutely anything they ask me to do.”

“………”

Myuri’s widened eyes were damp with tears; for a moment, it seemed she would shed them before looking away in guilt.

It was times like these that she curled her fluffy tail over her hands—a habit she has had since she was little.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

That she could ask this in turn was proof that she had grown.

Indeed—what was she to do?

They had a hypothesis, but no way of confirming if they were right.

The forest was the wolf’s domain, but it was also the owl’s hunting ground.

Especially at night. That was the hour when the owl reigned.

“We don’t have a lot of options, do we?” she continued. “If we turn him down, then we’ll end up in a fight anyway. And if we don’t, then it might hurt our friends.”

“Well—”

“Are you really going to accept what that owl says, Brother? I…” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to watch you spend all your days with a stupid fake smile on your face.”

“………”

“So I’m going to go check, if you don’t mind.”

They would beat Roche at his own game and put a stop to his plans.

Myuri’s damp eyes shone red.

Col was delighted to see that look in her eyes, to the point that he almost smiled. But he could not, because the benefits Roche had brought up could not be ignored—and it was at times like this that his adult facade was more powerful.

Roche’s idea was unbelievably attractive. Their fight with the Church would not end in war, and though it did not achieve every single one of their objectives, it would still achieve considerable results.

Did Col need to wear a fake smile for all this?

When he asked himself that question, the first thing that came to him was a smile tinged with regret. If only Roche had not resorted to these methods and came to talk to them in a more peaceable manner.

Col understood why he used threats. He could not afford to fail in this matter, so he attempted to drag Col over to his side, fully committing to being the bad guy.

But Roche seemed to know Col unbelievably well.

And yet it seemed like he did not trust him.

Had Roche asked Col to help him in a time of need, so they could forestall the flames of war together, that would have changed everything. If the objectives he mentioned were his true objectives, then they could have worked together to avoid a tragedy without Col being forced to betray his cause and his people.

Col and Myuri already trusted Canaan, someone who stood on the side of the Church. Col would have accepted him, even if he were an inquisitor.

Hyland would likely show disapproval, but Klevend would undoubtedly be amused.

And since the Twilight Cardinal knew Roche was the embodiment of an owl, that was more than enough for Col to take his hand.

Yes, all that was true.

Col recalled the feeling he had earlier that something was off.

That now took form and became words.

“Why did Inquisitor Roche threaten us?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

Myuri stared at him wide-eyed.

“I don’t think…there was a need for it.”

Why had Roche deliberately taken that path, forcing them to choose to go along with him or go against him.

Was everything he had said a lie from the very beginning?

Was he trying to force their fight against the Church into a more advantageous position by making Col betray his allies and puppet him?

No—if he were, then he probably would have gone about it in a different way.

And if so, all he had to do was take someone important to him hostage without warning.

The more Col thought about it, the stranger Roche’s behavior seemed.

Something was terribly inconsistent.

“Would you know why, Myuri?” Col asked, and a bored look crossed her face.

Perhaps she needed to do that for herself so she could get her emotions in order.

She exhaled deeply, her back hunching over as she did, and grumbled, “I think I do.”

She was not looking at him. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin on them.

“If…if, and I really mean if, what he said was true…”

After plenty of hesitations (which still did not seem like enough to her), she leaped to her feet from the bed.

“Then I think he stopped being able to trust anyone.”

Roche’s shadow cast over where Myuri stood.

They were both completely different physically, yet their images seemed to overlap perfectly.

“The Moon-Hunting Bear put himself in the middle of the fight, and then both sides saw him as the enemy, right? No one would listen to him, so they both attacked him, and he had no choice but to fight back. Then it was constant pain after that, because he had to hurt the people he wanted to protect. After seeing all those sad things happen, I’m sure the owl must’ve thought that…”

A sad smile colored Myuri’s expression. And it was so terrifyingly close to Roche’s smile.

But why were Myuri and Roche overlapping?

When that question came to Col, he realized the answer right away.

Half of Myuri was human, and half of her was wolf.

If she saw the Moon-Hunting Bear stand between the two camps with her own eyes, then she would have stood alongside the bear.

“…He couldn’t open himself up to either human or spirit.”

Because no one in this world was on his side.

“He says he wants to help us, but I don’t think he sees us as his people, never mind the Church. I really think he’s just trying to settle the score for the Moon-Hunting Bear. Because…”

She fell silent. She took a step forward, and took Col’s hand.

“The Moon-Hunting Bear is the one person he isn’t betraying.”

A figure of the past who had long since vanished.

No—it is because of his absence that Roche could trust him.

Because God was the same.

“I kind of get why he pressured you with choices you don’t have a choice in, and why he’s trying to force you into a painful betrayal. That’s…that’s all he can believe in.”

Myuri’s slender fingers entwined with Col’s, her nails faintly digging into his skin.

“I have you, but he has no one.”

Isolation.

Myuri saw through Roche’s empty threats when the first thing she sniffed out was his loneliness.

Perhaps she had come face-to-face with a very similar conflict already in her life.

For example, maybe she was once playing in the Nyohhira mountains with the other children and one of them got attacked by an animal. Perhaps she was forced to make a choice—either show her true form and save them, or not.

Even if she chose to save the other child, putting herself at risk of exposing herself, the saved child could still very well fear her, accuse her of being demon possessed, which would force her and her entire family to leave Nyohhira.

And so would she leave her playmates to the figurative wolves? Even though she had claws and fangs of her own?

For a young Myuri, this world must have been a terrifying place, one where she did not know who was on her side, who she could trust.

But she had an annoying, clueless someone who prided himself in being her older brother.

And he was oddly stubborn—he proclaimed that even if she were to make an enemy of the whole world, he alone would always remain by her side.

“Don’t you think you should make me your wife, Brother?”

Her lovely features were colored by a reproachful look.

Col dropped his gaze to their entwined fingers, then looked back up to Myuri and said, “Firm trust can take many forms.”

Myuri’s eyes softened, and her lips curled into a smile.

But that also showed him her fangs very clearly, which was truly terrifying.

It was bearable now, but he wondered how scary it would be when she got older.

He fervently wished that she would be married off sooner or later, because he felt a small part of his instincts tell him that he would no longer be able to fight back one day.

“He can’t be honest with himself and ask for our help. If he was on his own, you’d understand why he wanted to make it a secret with just you and me, right?”

“…Because we have a lot of allies, and he has none.”

Myuri shrugged. She could make friends with anyone at the drop of a hat.

“Kids who pout when they get left out will never listen to what I have to say.”

Myuri was something like the boss of all the children in the Nyohhira mountains, so her words carried a surprising amount of weight. At the very least, she understood better than Col did, who had no friends in his village.

“All he can believe in are relationships where he hurts or is hurt.”

A famous warrior once said that people had no choice but to be honest in the face of a bare blade.

Col inhaled, closed his eyes, and thought.

He was sure the objectives Roche mentioned were true.

It was very likely their fight against the Church would proceed to a point where things grew chaotic at the ecumenical council, and escalate to a point where both sides had no choice but to take up arms.

The significance of having someone he could talk to in the enemy camp if that happened was clear even to Col, who was ignorant in matters of politics.

Was that betrayal?

Was it even against God’s teachings to work alongside the enemy to quench the flames of war when the righteousness of faith had been cast to the wayside in favor of a battle fought only for pride, appearances, and greed?

Love thy neighbor, said the scripture.

“We’ve got no choice but to scruff him.”

That was Myuri’s conclusion. Col himself thought talking Roche down would not be possible.

Words could be powerful, but a person who had made up their mind was like a mountain.

In order to move a mountain, one needed not words, but overwhelming power.

“And even if he can fly, he’ll still have to come down if he wants to attack me. And when he does, I’ll show him I’m stronger!”

Myuri was trying to say that she would not mind if she had to act as a decoy, but there was something odd with her logic, and at the end of the day, Myuri was Myuri more than she was a wolf.

“As your older brother, I cannot allow that.”

Col grasped Myuri’s hand, the one that held the pouch of wheat, tightly.

“Your parents have left you in my care, after all.”

She loved acting the part of damsel in distress, yet she was always discontent when treated like a girl.

She was a crafty girl, but the light of her uninhibited attitude saved him at times.

Indeed—everything about her was crafty in one way or another.

But the reason they always managed to achieve their objectives was because of her craftiness.

That meant Col should be the same, too.

He wanted all the benefits Roche talked about.

But he did not want to shoulder the disadvantages.

He wanted to save Gazet and his people, and he did not want to lose the trust Berlind and the others had placed in him.

He also did not want to expose Myuri to danger.

Was all that possible?

“………”

He threw everything into the pot and boiled it together over a roaring flame.

It melted down, mixed together, and boiled down to one fragment.

He had a feeling it was possible.

Because…

“Roche may be alone, but we have people on our side.”

Myuri narrowed her eyes, suspicious, but both her ears and tail were piqued in attention.

“First, there is no need for you to investigate Master Lehmann.”

“Then who will?”

“We have plenty of options.”

When Col voiced his first suggestion, Myuri groaned in disapproval.

“And in the meanwhile, there is someone I’d like you to fetch.”

“Who? For what?”

“Someone who can catch Roche.”

Perhaps they would be unable to talk on an even playing field with him.

But if they were to scruff him, tie his hands behind his back, then things would be different.

Myuri scowled, either because she recognized this was not possible without help, or because she recalled how she had been scruffed and scolded in the past because she did not listen.

“…My fangs and claws alone aren’t enough?”

“It would be the same with Miss Ilenia—we need our own wings, otherwise we remain at a disadvantage.”

When Myuri came to the conclusion of who to summon, she shrugged.

“I’m not happy about this, but…I’ll do it.”

She looked at Col and narrowed her eyes.

“I like it better when you’re proactive, and I don’t want you to do what that guy wants.”

He would not be forced to act the way Roche wanted him to be.

“Will you help me fight back?” he asked.

“Obviously,” she replied. “So what’s the plan?”

Her eyes sparkled. But before he told her, he turned to the ceiling.

“The rest of you can come down,” he said.

There was a short pause before they appeared, perhaps because they were afraid of what they would be asked to do when an owl of the night was on the prowl.

But the most important thing was that Col had no intention of letting anyone get hurt.

“Here’s the plan.”

Maybe Roche had been working on a plan for a long time, and had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

But he had aptly said it himself—

There were only so many things one could do alone.

And they were thoroughly going to use that to their advantage.

When Col spoke with Vadan, the first thing he did was frown deeply at the prospect of having to deal with Roche, the owl inquisitor, who was, in the eyes of a mouse spirit, nothing short of a living disaster.

But he understood what it meant to keep Col from becoming what Roche wanted him to be.

Because Vadan and his crew were proud mice who left for the sea in search of freedom.

“Sure, we’ll teach that owl a lesson or two. But are you sure you’re gonna make it in time?”

Vadan’s gaze turned to Myuri.

“Of course I am,” she replied. “The thought of leaving my brother alone again isn’t fun, though.”

“It’s gonna take you two—no, three days?”

Myuri only shrugged. It sounded as though it would take three days from their conversation.

If all she were going to do was fetch Ilenia, then all she would have to do was go to Ahberg, throw Ilenia on her back, and run back to Wobern, which would put her back in the city in the evening the following day. But Ilenia’s true form stood out too much, and they would not be able to catch Roche if he escaped to the sky.

The only certain way to scruff him would be to bring along another ruler of the skies.

“But I could definitely catch him myself…,” Myuri grumbled.

But there was no way to tell how far ahead Roche had read their movements.

And since he most certainly was expecting them to fight back with force, he had to be most cautious of letting Myuri catch him.

If he were to escape into the sky, then they would have to remain constantly cautious of him suddenly attacking them in retaliation.

That meant they had to catch him while pinning him to the earth so he did not get away.

“Eh, we’ll buy you time in the meanwhile,” Vadan said. “We don’t like the woods, but it’s not like we don’t know ’em.”

It sounded like an even firmer show of courage than usual, and Col knew he was not imagining it.

These mice were going to be going up against an owl in the woods.

Col could not thank them enough for their courage.

“Then the first part of our strategy is you, Brother.”

“It is.”

Roche was a tough opponent, but his weakness was that he didn’t have a single person he could call an ally.

There was a possibility this was all a trap, but Vadan’s crew didn’t find any indication of this after dispersing throughout the city, so at the very least, it was very likely that Roche was the only nonhuman, and the only inquisitor, watching them.

And Col had plenty of ways of protecting himself against a human inquisitor.

That meant as things stood now, there were ways to gain the upper hand over Roche.

So for the first phase of their plan, Col went to Klevend.

And he told him practically everything, while hiding Roche’s identity as an owl spirit.

He told him the betrayal Roche proposed had utility that Col could not easily disregard, if Roche were to be trusted. But the betrayal was something he could not accept for the people who sympathized with him in this fight.

He then even mentioned their guess that Roche was the very one who led Gazet and his people to this land and even trained them in how to survive here.

Klevend neither agreed nor disagreed—he only asked one thing.

“What do you plan to do?”

Col replied, “I cannot tolerate betrayal, and doing so at this point would mean giving in to his threats. We would like to fight back, so I would like the help of either Prince-Elector Berlind or Lord Ziad.”

Klevend seemed to expect this to take a violent turn, so a faint look of interest even crossed his face.

“I don’t think it will be exactly what you’re expecting, Prince Klevend,” Col said.

“Show me what you got. What can I help with?”

“I want to send the soldiers the two of them brought to the village of Fornan. What should I do to make that happen?”

That was the very thing Col and Myuri wanted to prevent, but a single act could take on vastly different meanings depending on how it was carried out.

When Col told him why, Klevend hummed with interest.

As he stroked his chin, he said, “In that case, I’d say Berlind’s the one to talk to.”

Col nodded, and was about to bid Klevend farewell, when he adjusted what he wanted to say a bit.

“I’m sorry, would you mind if I brought you with me?”

Klevend was a big brother at heart; with a delighted look, he proudly said, “Of course!”

But he also asked, “Where’s the little lady?”

He sounded concerned—perhaps he thought she was upset after seeing how Duran poisoned Gazet.

Col said to ease his worries, “I cannot carry out this counter-attack on my own. I’ve sent her to Ahberg to collect as many of our allies as she can.”

Klevend’s gaze drifted down the hall, then returned to Col with a reproachful stare.

“You sent a girl like that out into the woods at night?”

“No matter how much I told her to come down from the mountain before the sun sets, she would never come home before she could smell dinner on the wind.”

Perhaps to those who lived on the grassy plains, the nighttime woods were nothing but a place of terror, but to any child raised in the mountains, not just Myuri, the woods were not all that scary.

“And some of Vadan’s crew is with her. It’s a difficult trip, but they should be able to make contact quicker than a horse would be able to.”

“………”

Klevend still looked worried, but in the end, all he did was sigh.

If her brother, someone who was decidedly more of a worrier than he was, said so, then there wasn’t much else to say.

“Guess some of my guys are scared of keeping watch at night, too. They won’t even go to the privy on their own.”

One of Klevend’s men, who was on watch outside of the hall, seemed to have overheard him; he shook his stick, his replacement spear, up and down in protest.

Klevend urged Col on with a wry smile on his face. When they exited the manor, Col shivered in the cool air.

There were no clouds in the night sky—it was a world of black and blue.

“Who are you?”

When they arrived at one of the mansions in another part of the wide grounds, the sentry standing under the firelight asked for their identity.

“It’s me, Prince Klevend. And the Twilight Cardinal.”

“I-I’ve received no word of any plans for a visit this late at night,” said the sentry.

“Well, obviously. We didn’t send any. Prince-Elector Berlind is still awake, isn’t he?”

“………” The sentry faltered, then said, “Wait just a moment.” And then vanished into the manor.

“Heard he’s been suffering fits every night these past few days,” Klevend remarked. “We’ve got guys with gout in our court, too, and for some reason nights are the worst for them.”

“I’ve seen many guests in Nyohhira suffer from it as well.”

“Hear it hurts so bad it makes you want to pray to God. Gives me the chills.”

“I don’t think it would if you prayed every day and practiced temperance regularly…”

“Harsh.”

As they conversed, the sentry from earlier returned.

“The prince-elector will see you.”

Klevend shrugged and stepped into the mansion, so Col followed.

With a candleholder in hand, a sleepy butler led them through the mansion.

They proceeded down the corridor, floorboards creaking underfoot, until the butler knocked on one of the doors.

There came a low voice in response. The butler respectfully opened the door for Col and Klevend; as they stepped inside, they found Berlind lying on his bed, large scripture resting on his stomach.

“Twilight Cardinal…and boy from the—oof…”

“Please, Lord Berlind, as you are.”

Berlind was attempting to force himself out of bed, and so Col insisted he remain. But it seemed even relaxing was painful for him.

“What could you need from me this late at night?” he asked.

Berlind closed his eyes, his breathing coming in short, wheezing breaths.

Col doubted the scripture on his stomach had been placed there in a hurry when he sensed their arrival.

Berlind was a secular man, but that was exactly why he was putting so much effort into his faith, since it might offer him salvation.

His faith was real, much in the way Eve’s desire to make money was real.

“This is about Gazet and his people,” Col said.

Berlind’s weak breathing paused, and he bent his neck to look at Col.

“So Duran failed.”

“There was a plot to poison Gazet, but God protected him.”

Col lifted his hand to show off the silver ring on his finger.

He had not said the ring was the one that helped him detect the poison, so it was not quite a lie.

“And he calls himself the mercenary king. What a fool…”

“What would you have done, Lord Berlind?”

Klevend’s question could have been taken as sarcasm.

Berlind, still lying down, replied, “If I had to guarantee results, then get him while he’s relieving himself. That’s the only time he’ll have no protection and is completely off guard.”

A corner of Klevend’s mouth curled upward.

He seemed both as though he was smiling, and as though he was astonished.

“So, are you here to lecture me?” Berlind asked, turning his attention to Col.

He had doubtless gone through life up to his waist in mire.

“No,” Col replied. “We’re here to discuss something with you.”

“Discuss?”

“What would you do if there was an individual who was attempting to force Gazet and his people into committing heresy?”

“…What?”

“What if there was someone who was feeding them heretical ideas? What would you think if we managed to capture this person ourselves?”

“………”

Berlind stared hard at Col. Col could not discern what he was feeling likely because he was too busy thinking.

“The Village of Fornan—that is what they call it. Apparently living there is a monk who not only holds the same traditions as they do, but also gave them the knowledge to survive in the forest. I would like to capture this individual and present him to the Church. The Church may be surprised to receive a gift from us, but they should understand the advantage that comes with it.”

“…Indeed, that would certainly be a good optics for us.”

Interesting—Berlind described it as “optics.”

“We do not want to undermine the Church’s authority, which may seem like we are compromising with them in a way,” Col continued. “The Church is currently being forced into a disadvantageous position, and so they would want us to broadcast that fact. However—”

“However, we would not do this out of good will alone, so even a fool would understand that we would want something in exchange,” Berlind finished.

“Precisely. I’d like to negotiate with them—in exchange for making them look good, I would like them to paint Gazet and his people as the poor victims in this situation.”

“Hmm.”

Berlind was greedy and logical—he understood Col’s plan right away.

Even Berlind and the other prince-electors did not particularly care how Gazet and his people were dealt with, so long as they were not a seed for future political or religious problems.

After peering at the ceiling for a moment, Berlind turned his rotund head to Col once again.

“But is it a big enough matter with considerable value? Offering them something small would only have the opposite effect in situations like these.”

“There is a good chance that the monk is currently working as an inquisitor.”

“………”

It was said the best way to stop hiccups was with shock.

And so perhaps Berlind had forgotten about his gout pain from the surprise.

“That’s quite the guess.”

“But can you not picture it?”

“………”

Roche had led Col to believe that inquisitors were thoroughly prepared, cunning, and like massive spiders, winding their thread around everything, everywhere.

Berlind, who likely knew both the light and dark sides of the world, had the exact same image.

“Do you mean to say they scatter the seeds for their meals with their own hand?”

That was how Berlind saw the world.

He likely resorted to similar methods plenty of times to eliminate his political enemies.

“That said, this individual should be on the lookout for us. I do not think catching him will be easy. But that in and of itself reinforces my theory.”

“If there is indeed an inquisitor lurking out there, then he can’t allow himself to be caught,” Berlind added. “That monk probably went into abrupt hiding.”

That was the perfect excuse as to why Col did not send Myuri to check.

If this Master Lehmann truly existed, then in his distress over danger approaching their community, he would either lead the people away, or pray to God.

But if Master Lehmann and Roche were the same person, there was only so much he could do to try to trick them.

Especially if soldiers came to apprehend him and said they would be presenting him to the Church.

“Is it possible he may evade any blame and leave those people to the wolves? An inquisitor who’s made their own heretics could easily escape and abandon them as prey for the hunters.”

The look in Berlind’s eyes when he looked at Col said, And then you young people will insist on making things more complicated again.

“If he does, then I will ask a friend of mine to do some work.”

“A friend?”

“I know someone who has access to all the documents within the Holy See. He would most certainly be able to find evidence of an inquisitor’s plot. And at the same time, he will find documents that will prove Gazet and his people innocent.”

“Ho-ho.”

Berlind energetically sat up, his whole body shuddering as he did.

“I see, I see. Now things are getting interesting.”

Col worried about the elector’s gout, but as Berlind sat with his arms crossed, thinking, he suddenly turned to look at him.

“Who knows about this?” he asked.

“Only you as of now, Prince-Elector.”

Berlind smiled like the owner of a rundown pub.

“Heh…Well done, I’m impressed. Things would’ve gotten much more complicated if you brought this to Ziad first.”

“You are the person of highest standing here at the moment.”

Berlind stared hard at Col, and then smiled wryly.

“You’re still a greenhorn, but not in a bad way. All I ask is you keep waving that flag for us.”

That was not part of the pleasantries Berlind had given Col and company when he first greeted them at the palace.

But his expression now was much more amicable.

“I would have sent you away if you came to me with no plan and begged me to save those old farts. But your brain thinks—I love that.”

As Berlind spoke, he took the pitcher sitting by his pillow and drank directly from it.

The faint scent that wafted from it was that of wine.

“You owe me, Twilight Cardinal.”

“Of course,” Col replied.

Berlind rushed straight to Wobern, despite his condition. He had seen the direction the fight against the Church was heading and was perhaps only thinking of the ways he could benefit from it as a result, but when he arrived, he found a troublesome adversary.

That was Ziad, Prince-Elector Gobrea’s special envoy.

They were most certainly not on good terms, and were doing nothing more than working together to put Duran in his place. Now that an opportunity to get ahead of a rival had appeared, Berlind would not let it go.

At the very least, that was what one particular merchant Col knew would do, and they were very similar to Berlind.

“Very well. I will support your plan. I’ll send soldiers, and I will inform Ziad of the situation. I can’t stand the thought of him sticking his nose in.”

Though he likely wanted to show that he was on friendlier terms with the Twilight Cardinal, Col still intended to be on pleasant terms with Ziad. Col did not want him getting cross with him later, after all.

Berlind also warned Col of this, but he did not warn against Klevend reaching out to Ziad, so he would ultimately still be keeping his promise.

“Good, good. Luck’s on my side. We depart tomorrow?”

“Yes, please.”

“Heh-heh! This will be even more fun once we expose this inquisitor.”

Berlind had completely forgotten about his leg pain. Once Col and Klevend left his room and exited the mansion, Col finally felt like he could breathe again.

“That went well.”

“Thanks to your help.”

Klevend shrugged.

The first step had gone off without a hitch.

How was Roche going to respond?

Col looked to the sky and only prayed everything else would go this smoothly.

The following day, Berlind was all smiles as he waited for Col, his men all lined up.

There must have been a bit of an argument—Ziad looked like he was fighting to keep a calm face so no one could tell how sour he actually was, but that, too, seemed like an act.

Klevend had spoken to him beforehand, so at the very least he should not have been too surprised by the situation.

“I leave Mister Gazet in your care, Prince Klevend.”

“Sure thing. You take care, too.”

Col wore a bitter smile on his face as he adjusted his bag on his back. He was not particularly happy about making that trip again. He was the one who suggested the idea of sending soldiers out to Berlind, so he figured he should go along with them, plus he was the best sort of bait to keep Roche tied to this land.

On the other hand, Duran looked as though their conversation had not even happened the night before, and he was acting the part of a magnanimous lord.

When the priests came from the church, they prayed for God’s protection for the soldiers, and the entourage then departed.

They proceeded along the difficult roads with great effort.

The silver lining was that Col was traveling with soldiers this time—they were moving a lot slower than the local hunters did.

Having already made the trip there and back once, his legs were already used to the terrain and he was not as tired as he feared he would be.

What saddened him was the noisy girl who was always by his side was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, when they arrived at their campsite for the night, Col was given a place to sleep in a distant corner of the camp, which was the soldiers’ way of showing respect for the Twilight Cardinal. There, he could speak briefly with his traveling partner.

“How many more days of this?”

“At this pace, seven—no, eight days, I think. So long as it doesn’t rain, that is.”

Vadan was already sick of it; he took a piece of cheese and bit into it.

“Still, I’m surprised by how decisive you were.”

“We’re up against an owl, after all.”

An elusive opponent in most matters.

Not only that, but he could fly, too.

They had no hope of even reaching him if they didn’t corner him with a thorough plan.

“I hope you can lure ’im out easily— Whoops.”

He stuffed the cheese into his mouth and dove into Col’s bag.

Barely a moment later, the flap to his tent opened and two of the captains stepped in. Each of their outfits were embroidered with the crests of Prince-Elector Gobrea and Prince-Elector Berlind, respectively.

They must have been told to curry favor with the Twilight Cardinal—they each held a bottle of wine in hand.

“A drink, Your Eminence?”

“Yes, come in.”

Everyone was just doing their job.

The entire time, it was hard to tell if Col was the one entertaining them, or if they were entertaining him. Thus, the first day ended.

The second and third days passed in largely the same way.

But starting at around midday on the third day, Vadan began to occasionally peek out from Col’s bag to look around. At night, he started to hear that distinctive hooting.

Col was not so softhearted as to think it was a passing owl that knew nothing of the present situation.

“I’m not leavin’ this bag.”

Col heard Vadan’s voice from his bag, and he mentally apologized to him.

Myuri was normally by his side at times like this, but this time, she was not.

She was likely running at full speed to call for help right about now.

The reason Col was making himself so obvious was to lure Roche to him, giving Myuri the chance to move safely.

There was only one of Roche. He could not pursue two quarries at the same time.

And even if he did decide to chase after Myuri while she ran as fast as she could, he would most certainly have to wonder if it was a trap.

Which meant he would likely choose to stay in Wobern, where he could have a firm grasp on the situation.

And that is why Col joined the march with Vadan.

The question was if his backup would arrive in time.

At Myuri’s speed, she should have arrived in Ahberg at some point the previous night, and was now well past it. It would take another two nights for her to reach her final destination.

And despite how fast Myuri may be as a wolf, she would still get tired.

Especially if she ran at top speed to shake Roche, who may have trailed her for a little while after she left Wobern.

Col could only pray that she did not push herself too hard and still make it on time.

“All riiight, we’re camping here for tonight!”

On the night of the fifth day, they set up camp in a particularly thick forest nestled at the bottom of a valley.

These mountain roads were hard to follow even for the soldiers, whose job was ostensibly to march, and so everyone on this expedition was exhausted.

It would take roughly another two days to reach the lake.

It would not be long before Roche tried something.

“Be careful.”

There came a voice from his bag.

The roads grew even more treacherous as they got closer to the lake, and the places they could set up camp became limited.

They would likely need to huddle together in a small area when they did, and once they arrived at the lake, more unnecessary eyes would notice them—hunters, prospectors.

Col rested against the biggest tree he could find, wary of surprise attacks.

He thought staying near the soldiers would make any attacker conscious of the soldiers’ attention, but he was once again shooed away to a separated spot.

Perhaps they were worried about soldiers who got excessively drunk due to their exhaustion and came to bother him.

Col wished Canaan, at least, was with him; he needed to wash his face, so he reached for a cloth in his bag—

“Run.”

And before he could think, he ran.

He leaped over the roots of the trees and pushed past the ferns; when he turned around, he saw those two captains, soldiers in tow, throw back the flap to his tent and start stomping on his bedroll.

“To the right up ahead.”

Vadan was on Col’s head, pulling on his hair to direct him left and right, which meant his body moved before he could think about it.

There were loud voices behind him.

The hunt had begun.

“Didn’t think they’d go for this option.”

The tall pine trees blocked the sunlight, which meant there was little foliage on the ground, and that made it easy to run.

One could also say that meant it was easy for him to be followed, but at least his slow-witted self would not trip and fall; otherwise, he would not be able to escape in the first place.

“Prince-Elector Berlind and the others…must have been fed ideas…”

Col had wondered how Roche was going to retaliate.

If he and Master Lehmann were the same person, then Gazet and his people could no longer be used as a bargaining chip. If anything, Roche the inquisitor would end up revealing weaknesses that others could take advantage of.

He had to do something to counter Col’s plans, but there were only so many options he could take.

He could foolishly attack Col head-on, or give chase, or take Myuri hostage. Or would he break into their mansion at Wobern and steal Gazet away?

Of all the possible options he thought of, proposing betrayal to the prince-electors was one of them.

Both of them had come to Wobern not out of faith, but out of interest for how this situation could benefit their holdings.

It was perfectly plausible that Roche had suggested to them the most profitable avenue would be to puppet the Twilight Cardinal together, all three of them.

“Do you think…I can manage…to get away from them…?”

As Col ran, he quickly lost his sense of direction.

Everything around him had been completely swallowed up by the dark of night.

His own ragged breathing echoed loudly around him.

Though he had spent many a night in the woods to hunt, Myuri had always been with him.

A bitter smile crossed his face because he realized all his memories led back to Myuri.

“Just a little farther. There’s a stream ahead.”

In her stead, he now had a little captain on his head.

He blindly pressed forward and came to a little clearing. The sky was dyed purple, an odd contrast to the blackened silhouettes of the pine trees against it. Gazet and his people had lived in a forest just like this.

As that thought passed through his mind, Col carefully stepped down to the stream and dipped his hands in the cold water.

“Don’t drink that. That much’ll destroy your gut if a deer shit near the water.”

“Oh…”

Col settled on washing his hands and face instead.

“If this is going to be a long-term thing, then, y’know. I could find food, but water’s gonna be a problem. We might have to collect morning dew.”

It never rained when they wanted it to.

“Is Roche nearby?”

“Don’t sense anything right now, but this is their territory. Find a big tree. If there’s a hollow, you can climb in there.”

“Let’s pray there are no bears sleeping in there instead.”

“Yeah.”

If he were on his own, his mood would have immediately dipped.

He was thankful he had someone to talk to.

He was a bit scared to go back into the forest from the clearing, but he held his breath anyway and stepped into the darkness.

Col heard the cry of a deer in the distance.

“That’s a whistle.”

“Is it nearby?”

“No…But they are searching in the south. Let’s go north—not that way, this way.”

Vadan tugged on Col’s hair, and he went in that direction.

As his eyes got used to the darkness, he started to be able to see the shapes of the trees.

He kept pressing forward, hands groping out in front of him, but when he glanced behind him, he spotted something flickering in the darkness.

“Did they bring along dogs or somethin’?”

“No…But local hunters may have slipped in among the soldiers’ ranks.”

“Damn. They’re gonna catch up. And…” Vadan paused, tugging his hair backward.

That was the signal to stop.

It was only then that Col noticed it.

At his feet was a sheer drop.

“They know the damn lay of the land. No matter where we run, we’re always gonna end up in a place like this.”

Col was practically unarmed, but he did have a dagger at his hip.

When he thought about how they might use the Twilight Cardinal, he figured they would take him alive. He could buy himself some time by putting his dagger to his own neck and taking himself hostage.

It would take Myuri three days one way to reach her destination from Wobern.

This was the night of the fifth day.

Things should work out. Somehow.

“Let’s hang on until help comes.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to, huh?”

The flickering beyond the trees came into clearer view, and he saw they were torches.

He walked along the edge of the cliff for a little while, then found a rather large tree root, and decided to sit there.

Anything he could have put up with, he would no longer be able to if he fell and hurt himself.

“You’re calm,” Vadan said after he had climbed down from Col’s head and settled on his lap, and looked up at him.

“I’ve been in plenty of danger before.”

“You jumped into the freezing ocean, yeah?”

“I fell from the ship, to be more precise…I’ve also been locked in a burning room.”

“You what?”

Col recounted bits and pieces of his adventure thus far, the mouse was impressed, astonished, and even taunted him for being stupid. In exchange, Vadan told him all sorts of stories from his adventures on the seas.

What surprised Col the most was when he started talking about a wolf and an eagle and a sheep that climbed aboard his ship, their pursuers noticed where he was.

Col could tell they had been dispatched over a wide distance, and they were approaching him, slowly closing in on his location.

The torches served less as a light source and more as a signal—they paused at a considerable distance away.

At last, soldiers emerged from the darkness.

“Is this on the prince-electors’ suggestion?” Col asked.

They did not respond.

Instead, they drew their swords.

“Hey, this looks…”

Vadan, who hid himself at Col’s back, whispered to him in a panic.

This should be nothing more than a threat.

If they were truly going to kill him, then they would have shot an arrow at him and gotten it over with by now.

His logic desperately explained this to him, but that did not stop his heart from pounding in his ears.

The soldiers looked at him not like a person.

But as prey in the forest.

“Attack.”

There came the quiet order, and the soldiers rushed at him, swords brandished.

Why? This was an odd way to kill him.

Why did they not use their arrows, or push him from the cliff? Why swords?

As time slowed to a crawl, it hit him.

Martyrdom.

They were planning on making it seem as though the Twilight Cardinal had fought with the heretics and died, or at least was gravely injured. Either would serve the same purpose.

They would carry his tattered body back, and as he gasped his last breaths, they would give him his last rites.

And then Berlind, wailing, hand on the scripture, would hear his last words and announce them to the world.

“The Twilight Cardinal has left everything to us three prince-electors.”

The bells would ring across the land, renewing everyone’s resolve to fight against the Church…

“I suppose that would be the plan?”

Col murmured this, not because he had given up.

It was because he had noticed the silver wind that had emerged from the dark of the forest.

It silently rushed through the trees, and just as the four men were about to lower their blades on Col, a wolf rushed at them from the side, bending their bodies at the waist in a right angle.

“Myuri!”

Col had done the calculations.

It would take Myuri three days one way to reach her destination from Wobern.

This was the night of the fifth day.

Things would work out.

They would, somehow.

The one thing he could do nothing about was the owl that swept in on him from behind.

“Your Eminence.”

The cold voice at his ear sent a chill down his spine, and when he whirled around, there was the massive owl.

He had been waiting for the precise moment that Myuri would thoughtlessly show herself so he could seize that opening.

When attempting to outwit Roche, the one thing they needed to be most wary of was Roche targeting the Twilight Cardinal directly. The Twilight Cardinal was honest, almost foolishly so, and while he would turn down betrayal for the sake of his ideals, his allies were not the same.

If he could take the Twilight Cardinal as hostage, his allies would accept a realistic bargain. That was Roche’s only option to give himself an advantage, because otherwise, he was outnumbered.

Even if Roche wanted to capture the Twilight Cardinal, Myuri the wolf was an ever-present problem.

Myuri said that even owls, who had the overwhelming advantage of being able to fly, had no choice but to come to the ground when they wanted to catch their prey.

And in the moments directly after capturing his prey, that is when Roche would be most vulnerable, no matter what he did. The moment he attempted to capture the Twilight Cardinal, he would be showing his back to Myuri and the others.

And so Roche used Berlind and Ziad, telling them they should make the Twilight Cardinal a martyr, and then spread his authority equally among the three prince-electors.

And so if the Twilight Cardinal were to truly face danger, then his guardian, who was doubtless lying in wait nearby, would have to show herself.

Fairness was important in any bout, and nothing was fairer than this. Because the best opportunity each party had to act was also their own greatest moment of weakness.

And so Col and Klevend had visited Berlind, told him of their plans, and set the obvious trap of sending the cardinal himself out to walk the mountain paths. As Vadan showed him his escape routes along the way, they made their location even more obvious by badmouthing them aloud. He even emerged by an open stream to make himself an easier kidnapping target.

This was a test of endurance—the first to give in would lose.

The most dangerous part of a hunt is right before the final moment of success.

“Roche—”

Col had no chance to finish what he was saying.

Myuri’s front paws flew toward the men, and in accordance with the laws of the world, they were not yet back on the ground.

In that precise moment, large claws grasped Col’s body, and the ground became a distant view in the blink of an eye.

He did not even feel like he was flying.

The scenery changed before him with terrifying speed, and before he knew it, the forest was far below.

He had been beneath dark, turbulent waters, and in the floor of a room as it burned down around him.

Now there was another thing he could add to that harrowing list.

That he has flown through a vast, indigo sky as the curtain of night fell over the world.

“Ha-ha… Ha-ha-ha! It seems I was a cut above!”

Roche’s voice mixed in with the flutter of his massive wings.

“How close she was to me…I would have been in danger had I decided to strike when you were at the stream.”

It sounded as though Roche was speaking quicker in his excitement.

He flapped his wings extra boldly, certain of his victory.

“I’ll be taking you to the Holy See. Oh no, I won’t kill you. But a wail or two from you would certainly make them listen to me.”

He had exposed Myuri’s ambush by using Berlind’s soldiers, seized his one opportunity to act, and spirited away the Twilight Cardinal away unharmed.

He spoke fast; he could not help if a sentiment or two ended up a bit self-deprecating.

But he should have been paying attention.

He should have noticed the slow-witted young man was not panicked in the slightest.

“Three days, one way.”

“Hmm?”

Roche’s massive talons were holding on tight.

The skin on his legs looked like they were covered in dragon scales, which Myuri loved, and there was nothing Col’s weak hands could do about that.

“This is the night of the fifth day.”

It was just as he had calculated ahead of time.

“What are you—?”

Roche’s question had trailed off as the dark of night inexplicably grew deeper.

Or perhaps because he could tell from the changes in sound that something was upon them. An oppressive feeling suddenly washed over them, as if they had been thrown abruptly into a small, dark room.

Col had imagined it to be like this, but was not certain; he had simply heard stories, and accepted them.

And so when he felt what must have been a cold sweat seep from Roche’s talons, Col, too, felt a pang of fear.

“I suppose you’ve been waiting for me?”

When he heard the familiar voice, even larger talons clasped around both Col and Roche.

“You— Wha—?! You—you’re—!!”

Roche struggled against the hold with large flaps, but that only caused large feathers to flutter around them.

Even when Col managed to turn his head and look behind him, he could not see the whole picture.

“These feathers…This size…No, this can’t be, this can’t be—”

When Col had named the person they were meant to ask for help, Myuri had frowned.

It was the same sort of face she had made in Huskins’s presence.

Sharon was not the only bird spirit they knew.

“D-Diane…the Alchemist?!”

“Please, call me Diana.”

Col’s body went higher into the sky—Diana had lifted them both up.

She was not flapping to move. At this point, she was essentially sailing through the sky.

She was a bird spirit who had lived through the ancient era of spirits.

It was Diana from whom Myuri sought help.

Roche was a cunning owl, so Col reckoned they would not be able to catch him through regular means. And much in the way Roche came up with a similar idea, they waited for the moment the hunter’s hunt succeeded, when his guard would be the lowest.

However, Sharon was much too small, and even if she worked with Myuri, there were still points of uncertainty.

And most importantly, with how great Diana was, even if the trip was three days one way, she could easily be able to get back in less than a day while also carrying Myuri.

Besides, Myuri would have had to cross the sea to get Sharon’s help—that would not have been possible with her.

“Y-you…The both of you—!”

As Roche growled overhead, Col spoke to him.

“Inquisitor Roche, I cannot go along with your forceful methods. I cannot betray my allies.”

Roche’s talons tightened around him, and Col heard his ribs creak.

“Did you want your neck wrung?”

When Diana asked that question, Roche refrained from holding Col any tighter.

Col could not really see very well, but from what little was in his vision, he could tell they were in a position where, if Roche were not already an owl whose head could spin all the way around, then his neck would have snapped by now.

“Give up, Inquisitor Roche!”

“………”

His silence felt like he was both thinking, and he was bewildered.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” he asked.

Negotiations had broken down, and now their positions were reversed.

If he could not take another’s hand in cooperation, then they were an enemy.

That was the world Roche lived in.

“Because you are truly alone.”

Col did consider that Roche might have another nonhuman collaborator with him.

But no matter how much Vadan and his crew searched, they discovered nothing of the sort. Myuri had surveyed the area from the top of Amaretto’s tower just in case, but it was the same.

It was hard to think of this as a strategy. Because it would simply turn out to be a disadvantage to him.

“I think you truly have fought all on your own all this time…for such a long time.”

But Col did not think that Roche’s loneliness had chipped away at his spirit, or made him forget his original objective. That was not something he could undertake halfheartedly.

Yet that he led Gazet and his people to the forest and ended up establishing a relationship with them was perhaps a manifestation of the one weakness he could not overcome.

All the vague tales passed down about the Moon-Hunting Bear spoke terribly of him.

But Gazet and his people believed their forefathers had given up their village to the bear in order to stop a worldwide catastrophe. Roche had been so tired of his solitude that he reached out and interacted with them.

Perhaps he had wanted to quit being an inquisitor long ago.

But since it was something he had been involved in for many, many years, he likely had ties he could not completely shake, or perhaps he was a slave to his past self, who had so closely adhered to his convictions.

And Roche seemed like the kind of person who was extremely wary of anything and everything, but on the flip side, steadfastly trusted those he had put his faith in.

That was the one thing that was both a strength and a weakness for the truly alone.

It reminded Col of a wolf who had faithfully ruled over one village’s wheat harvest for centuries because one of the village men had asked her.

“What…what do you know?”

“Nothing,” Col replied quickly and clearly.

He knew nothing about God, an entity to whom he prayed and thought so much, and as of late, he was starting to realize he knew nothing about Myuri.

“But there is one thing I know. No matter—”

He stopped himself.

Diana slowly veered through the sky, and Col’s vision came level with the horizon.

The sun had set long ago. The blaze left over the sky in its wake had cooled, and so had the colors of the sky.

Stars twinkled overhead, and the moon had begun to peek out beyond the mountain ridges.

It would not be a full moon for a while yet, but it was a good moon, rounded and waxing.

The moon—

No, it was, in more precise terms—

“The Moon-Hunting…Bear?”

The words slipped from his mouth without him noticing.

They were just south of the lake. The way it was nestled between the mountains like a dark puddle was so obvious on this three-dimensional map.

And reflected on the surface was an image of the moon.

The Moon-Hunting Bear had collapsed the mountain to prevent an army marching from the south to the north, which had incidentally formed the lake.

And every night, the lake reflected the moon.

I see now! The bear of legend truly did pull the moon down from the sky!

“Were you the one who gave the Moon-Hunting Bear his name?”

“………”

Roche did not answer, but Col sensed a silent sort of laughter coming from Diana.

The wind blew and whipped over his face.

The chill in the air made him wince a little. It was then that he noticed something fluttering in the wind by his chest.

The crest of the Church.

It was said to symbolize the rising sun, modeled after the way God shone in Heaven.

Col stared as it danced on the wind, the cord around his neck keeping it in place.

He then lifted his gaze to Roche.

“Did you infiltrate the Church for this crest?” he asked.

The talons wrapped around him gripped him harder.

“If I turn the crest on its side, then it looks just like the reflection of the moon on the lake.”

In many ways, Roche had turned things on their head, as the expression goes.

Only Roche understood how the Moon-Hunting Bear felt. Plus, he wanted to carry those feelings forward himself. And that was why he did not hesitate to turn the symbol of the sun or the light in Heaven, something no one else dared alter, on its side.

The Church was a unique organization, one older than the empire, and was trying to rule over faith throughout the world.

They had more than enough power to fulfill the plan of carrying out the Moon-Hunting Bear’s will, and more importantly, the crest of the Church looked like the moon on the lake when turned on its side.

It was the perfect choice for the one person who carried on the Moon-Hunting Bear’s will.

And perhaps the reason he chose to be an inquisitor was because that crest was painted black.

“I cannot go along with your proposed betrayal, and not once did I agree to be the sort of person you want me to be.”

Diana began to descend; the wind whipped through Col’s bangs.

He thought the wind might drown out his voice, so raised it further.

“But I trust you!”

If Roche forced him to act, and Col chose to do what he was forced to do, then that would be betrayal.

But what if he was not forced, and was not simply doing as he was told?

Instead, Roche’s actions could be limited by Col’s words.

It was like guiding prey into one’s trap.

“I trust you. Our objectives are essentially the same, after all.”

Roche had a goal, and his goal was also something Col was wishing for.

And so if they both did their best, they would naturally end up working together.

Was that betrayal, or something else?

At the very least, Col had not told Roche to do any one specific thing, nor was it the other way around.

He simply aimed for what he believed in.

All he did was tell someone he trusted that he trusted them.

And that just happened to bring them a good conclusion as a result.

“You’ve grown into a bad man,” Diana murmured with glee.

As her words dispersed into the cold wind, Roche said, “Let me down. I’ll finish this myself.”

“No, you will wait. You know how big my talons are—you’ll end up dropping the cardinal.”

Roche struggled fruitlessly for a few more moments, then went limp.

The world never went as one wished, and there was always a greater power.

And that was why everyone needed allies.

Col turned his gaze to the distance to fully enjoy the last few moments of his cruise through the sky.

He thought this would be a great memory to tell Myuri later.

EPILOGUE

Diana slowly alighted in a spot out of sight.

Immediately afterward and completely unannounced, Myuri in her wolf form leaped from the trees and thoroughly scared Col.

She was huge, and though he might think her silver fur would make her stand out, she had perfectly hid her presence.

This has been a day of suffering, Col thought—first Roche had snatched him up, and now Myuri was crushing him.

“I’ll be leaving now, then,” Diana said.

“Thank you, Miss Diana!”

“Thank you for telling me your stories in the sky.”

“Hee-hee…”

Myuri seemed bashful for some reason, and Col had a terrible feeling about what sort of stories they might be, but he dared not ask. He knew it would all be nonsense, anyway.

“Ah, right. You wanted to use that stubborn old sheep for your monk, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah. That’s Old Man Huskins. Can you send the letter to him?”

“I’ll go talk to him myself. That sheep should benefit somehow from a peaceful resolution to the fight against the Church, too. I’ll tell him to help you.”

They needed to come up with a replacement for Master Lehmann in order to neatly square away the matter of Gazet and his people. But it wasn’t as if just anyone would do—they needed someone who looked and acted like a true monk; someone who could keep a secret.

There were only two among their acquaintances that fit the bill, but one was a whale spirit, so Col hesitated over bringing him to the mountains.

And so they wanted to ask Huskins for help.

“Oh, that reminds me.” Just as Diana was about to fly off, she turned to Roche, who had sunk into a heap on the ground, and said, “You hurt the Twilight Cardinal and I will pluck every feather from your body and pickle you in sulfur.”

Her tone was teasing, but when said by a giant bird with a long, slender neck, it was terrifying in a different way.

“…I do not do things that have no benefit.”

Diana quietly smiled and flew off.

She had been harsh with Roche because she was an alchemist—she often clashed with inquisitors and hated them.

“What now?” asked Myuri.

All that was left in this deep, remote forest was Col, a wolf, and an owl.

No—there was also Vadan, who was lounging on Myuri’s back.

“We settle this once and for all. Like the Moon-Hunting Bear did.”

Once Roche gave his answer, Myuri stared at him for some time, then turned to look at Col.

Her eyes told him that he only needed to say the word and they could have roast bird for dinner tomorrow.

Col patted her head, then turned to Roche.

“We’ll meet at the ecumenical council.”

The silver wolf was dissatisfied with this. Roche spread his large wings and checked to see how they were two, three times, before flying off without a word.

“Can you really trust him?”

It was Vadan who asked this as he lounged in Myuri’s fur.

“Miss Diana seemed to know he had been doing things here and there.”

She had known there was an ally to nonhumans in the Church. She must occasionally catch wind of things like that precisely because she was an alchemist, a profession that was often targeted by inquisitors.

“Well, if the great Twilight Cardinal himself says it’s fine, then it’s fine. But don’t take me into the forest ever again.”

“Please forgive me with an offering of cheese.”

“Heh.”

Vadan snorted. Myuri kept staring at Col.

She was like a wolf he might encounter in the forest, one he did not know was friendly or aggressive.

“The reason we won against Roche was because we had you.”

It was Myuri who had broken Roche’s illusion, and the final trap would not have worked without her.

And that trap came with plenty of risks.

What if Diana had moved somewhere else? What if Berlind’s soldiers had attacked earlier? What if Col had not been able to get away, even with Vadan’s guidance?

But the reason Col supported this plan irrespective of the risks was because he believed in Myuri.

“You are a knight who will always come to my rescue, no matter what.”

Vadan, still sitting atop Myuri, was astonished by that, but Myuri neatly put her front paws together and sat, her chest puffed in pride. And had her tail not been wagging, she would have been the perfect picture of a wolf knight.

“Shall we go back, then?”

Myuri suddenly stood up, and Vadan panicked, and almost fell off.

She edged closer to Col, urging him to pat her head.

He almost told her that knights did not typically beg for pets like this, but then reconsidered.

During knighting ceremonies, the knight’s liege would tap the knight’s shoulders with a sword.

But in their knightly order, Col would instead scratch her neck.

“Get on, Brother.”

“You know we don’t need to hurry for this,” he reminded her. But all he got in response was a wag of her tail.

His knight was somewhat lacking in devotion.

Col and company rested at a traveler’s lodge just outside of Wobern for a day to adjust the amount of time it truly took to get back, and then made their way to Duran’s palace.

He would be lying if he said that intruding on the great hall just as the prince-electors were smacking their lips over their lunch was not delightful in its own special way.

The very expressive Berlind went pale when he saw him, as did Ziad.

Prince-Elector Duran was the only one who did not know what was going on, and he simply gave a blank stare.

“Indeed, it was an evil monk who had been feeding Gazet and his village heretical ideas,” Col declared. “I will use my connections to notify the Church. This problem will be solved before long. Which means…”

He paused and assumed airs.

Klevend had advised him that it would be in this moment they would be terrified.

“I ask for your full support in building the road south.”

Their assault had failed, and the Twilight Cardinal came back unharmed.

With the truth in front of them, despite all their schemes, both Berlind and Ziad gave their weighty agreements.

Though Duran did not entirely know what was going on, he seemed to catch on that the other two had made a terrible blunder, at least.

When their eyes met, Col smiled, but he only received a dry one in return.

Two days after their return, Berlind’s and Ziad’s soldiers returned to Wobern, but Vadan’s spies reported they were scared out of their wits.

Berlind was furious the plot had failed—Col and company were told the soldiers reported, completely pale, to the prince-electors that the Twilight Cardinal had received divine protection, and the animals of the forest had sided with him.

Col described the assault in a different manner to Klevend.

They had guessed a betrayal was coming beforehand, so they had Vadan and his men follow from a distance. Once the soldiers revealed their true intent and Col escaped into the forest, he joined Vadan and his men, who were lying in wait, and promptly came back to Wobern.

The soldiers, having failed in their assault, went on and on about the creatures of the forest and miracles to attribute their blunder to divine intervention.

Regardless of whether or not Klevend bought that last part, he simply shrugged, glad that Col was safe.

When that was all finished, Col and Myuri found themselves back at the mansion in which they were staying.

“So what happened to that guy, then?”

“I hear Inquisitor Roche scolded Berlind and Ziad for failing in their attack, told them that if they wanted information from the Church, they had to give an exhaustive report on the Twilight Cardinal, and then left Wobern.”

Vadan and his crew had confirmed this. Of course, they could not typically eavesdrop on Roche’s conversations, so this was all only possible because Roche invited the crew to listen. That meant he was not a sore loser. Or perhaps since Col had told Roche he trusted him, then it was his way of reciprocating trust.

Col ran the comb through Myuri’s hair as he told her all this, and her tail swished about.

“And his own plan totally failed, too, but did he hide that?” she asked, obvious barbs in her voice.

Col gave a strained smile. “I guess Inquisitor Roche plans on making Berlind and Ziad act as messengers between him and myself by doing so.”

This was deeply unofficial, of course, and it was not as though they would be able to freely speak to one another.

After all, the Twilight Cardinal was an honest man, and he did not engage in betrayal.

But it wasn’t hard to imagine what movements he might take from the information they received to make sure they were headed in the right direction.

They would just happen to have the same ideas.

“He can’t come and tell us that himself? That’s why he doesn’t have any friends,” Myuri spat.

Col decided to limit his reply to an awkward smile.

They should not meet face-to-face since Col had not agreed to betrayal.

He would take it as Roche playing along with the Twilight Cardinal’s upright honesty.

“And it sounds like old man Huskins is going to join us, so that’s good.”

“Perhaps both the talk Miss Diana had with him, and the letter Prince Klevend sent just in case had an effect.”

Now that Roche was gone, they could rely on Sharon’s bird friends with no worries.

And so they sent a letter after Diana.

The golden sheep had once adventured with a young noble man to take a country for themselves.

Klevend, a descendant of that young noble man, had written him a letter.

They knew someone in the kingdom who was the perfect fit to play the role of a monk, but Col knew he would be stubborn, so he asked Klevend to write a quick letter as the prince.

When Huskins arrived later, Klevend was impressed—he was indeed the perfect replacement.

“You’re actually good at this, though, Brother.”

“Good at what?”

“Using miracles.”

Though Col had predicted this ahead of time, had Myuri not come to save him, he would have been torn to shreds by those swords and he would have been at death’s door right about now.

And as thanks, he had spent the past few days spoiling her rotten.

He wondered if brushing her hair any more than this would instead be bad for her hair, but Myuri shoved the comb into his hands with great satisfaction.

Her back was toward him.

“In the end, it felt like we were all working together this time. I almost felt like I was no different from anyone else.”

“………”

“And I can’t believe you got to play the part of the princess who gets saved.”

That put Myuri in a huff. Col gave a tired smile, then pressed on her back to straighten her posture, and resumed combing her hair.

“If we ever truly reach a point where we can do nothing, you are in charge of our escape route.”

Col could ask no one else to take on such a detrimental role.

But Myuri did not reply.

She did not even turn back to look at him.

Yet Col continued to brush her hair.

“If we had to run, where should we go?” he asked.

Myuri shrugged, and a smile slowly spread across her face.

She then grabbed the hand that held her comb and crawled into his arms.

“The Moon-Hunting Bear went west when he got discouraged, right?”

That was one subject Myuri had unnaturally avoided after hearing all the details of the incident.

The silver wolf in Col’s arms curled up, as though ready to sleep.

“Then we’ll go the other way,” she said.

Because they were the Saint of the Sun and the Twilight Cardinal.

Once they started building the road south, the Church would certainly strike back before they were at too severe a disadvantage.

Col believed that would happen at the ecumenical council, but there were always plotters and schemers up to no good.

And yet, even if they found themselves stuck with no choice but to escape, then how could they find despair if they went where the sun always rises?

And the sun would always bring about a new day.

“I am so glad you came with me on this journey,” Col said. He looked down at her in his arms, and she looked up at him as if to say, obviously.

“No need to worry,” she said. “I’ll be with you forever.”

She grinned, and then closed her eyes.

Judging by the ecumenical council’s history, it had always been an event that foretold the direction of the greater powers, and more recently had become a stage of trickery. If this upcoming council was going to decide the fate of the Church as a whole, then the cutthroat nature of the ordeal was something he could not even begin to imagine.

But strangely, he felt calm.

Because he had a reliable knight and so many allies at his side.

“Brother, blanket.”

With a “Yes, yes,” he gave in to the reliable knight’s selfish demands and reached for the blanket.