Chapter: 210
The Holy City Trumpet Hall was undeniably luxurious and sacred. It was almost as if it demanded that you feel a certain way.
The white color, adorned with gold leaf decorations here and there, and the various sculptures and ornaments created by artists were undeniably beautiful. However, like draping yourself in designer goods without substance, this ostentation revealed its lack of depth.
Beneath the splendor and grandeur of this city, an unmistakable rusticity was proudly on display.
For example…
The buildings related to the Church of the Goddess were generally tall, while others tended to be comparatively lower. On the skyline that came into view, the Church of the Goddess was always present. And it was quite a lot.
So much so that it brought back memories of the red crosses adorning my old hometown at night.
This was like laws from the old medieval days. Just like nobles wouldn’t allow buildings taller than their mansions, the Church of the Goddess wouldn’t permit taller structures that might overshadow its authority.
So, whenever one looked for something flashy and eye-catching in the city, it was inevitably a product of the Church of the Goddess. Thus, it was only natural that I felt a certain discomfort in this undeniable lack of freedom.
It wasn’t that it was bad per se.
Employing a vertical image as a means to elevate their power is a classic approach. Just like the royal family of Crownhall boasts its power and presence through the grandest of palaces.
However, the fact that this flashy behavior came from a religious sect felt a bit off. It wasn’t a genuine reverence rising from the heart, but rather a way to inflate religious authority through force and greed.
It was… rather unappealing.
Like a 3-meter-tall armored knight fully geared up, shooting a mini bow that was no bigger than his palm.
I stirred my black tea with a teaspoon and said, “Don’t you think so, Young Lady?”
“… … I’m hesitant to say so,” she replied with a troubled expression.
The Young Noble Lady’s manner of speaking often contained tenfold information behind her words. In that sense, if we were to run that dialogue through a translator, it would roughly translate to: “How bold to discuss such matters in a coffee shop operating in the Holy City. But I don’t have that kind of guts. I must hold myself back.”
Clang. The teaspoon scraped the edge of the teacup.
“From your words about wanting to talk privately, it seems your mind’s decision has been made about what you’d like to request of me.”
“… … Yes.”
This conversation had been initiated by the Young Lady’s request. I had anticipated a serious discussion and had sent Pinkvalez and Evil God-chan on a casual city tour.
After all, time should be used efficiently; while I was conversing with the Young Lady, it would be nice if the two could gather information on the whereabouts of the Bennett party.
Yes, the excuse lined up perfectly.
I had sent them off partly because I was worried Evil God-chan might say something like, “This guy is your daddy’s catch.”
Yuna, transformed into a butterfly, still hadn’t gotten any news. She should be nearby, though.
“I…”
The Young Lady gathered her thoughts and began to speak. Her sky-blue hair, reminiscent of snowy scenery, sparkled elegantly under the sunlight without fading.
In that brief moment, as the journey from her head down her spine to her mouth took place, her expression changed. I curiously observed this transformation.
Initially trembling with fear over misfortune that had struck her life, she pieced together fragments of information given to her and then placed her bets.
What shined in her icy eyes was the mindset of a gambler.
“I was expelled from Duke Julius’s Family to avoid leaving any troubles behind within the household.”
“Oh, really? And?”
An unexpectedly interesting story was unfolding. I leaned forward, detaching my back from the chair to signal that I was attentively listening.
It was her turn to tell her story.
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It was clear from the first encounter that the magician and his party were anything but ordinary.
When I first saw the Crazy Mage and Evil God-chan through the prison bars, they appeared downright ridiculous, but…
It was at the moment they proclaimed their identity as the firstborn of the Duke Julius’s Family that I realized their exceptional nature. People who are unconcerned about mundane status typically fall into four categories: either ignorant, of high birth, strong enough to not care about status, or just a bit off in the head.
“You won’t get away. I’ll show you the devastating power of the joint!”
“Ahhh—!!”
Or they could just be slightly deranged.
Duke Julius’s Family, along with the Redburn and Belian families, is one of the three great families of the Empire. Naturally, their influence is unrivaled in comparison to lesser nobles, and the only bloodline that could rival theirs would be the royal family itself.
Yet, their complete disregard for the young girl in front of them, as they shamelessly made fun of her, could only be described as… impressive, to put it mildly.
The Young Lady of Ervasilion was freed from prison with the help of the Crazy Mage’s party.
The Crazy Mage told her to wait a moment, saying he had something to find in this town. As someone who’d been rescued, she had no choice but to comply.
In that empty time, she checked the traces of battle that had occurred between the Crazy Mage’s party and the townspeople.
The strong knights and numerous locals had completely vanished. Only a few corpses remained lying lifeless on the floor.
The Young Lady pondered seriously about the possibility that the Crazy Mage and the townsfolk might be in cahoots. But it felt odd to think that way.
“… … … …”
She examined the remaining corpses. They bore no significant external injuries. They had died without a scratch on them. There were no signs of magic like flames, frost, or earth spells involved.
If that was the case, could it be an illusion spell?
To manage such a large number of people with an illusion that was often deemed impractical…
At least some members of this party would have reached the realm of legend. Otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense. Why would such a powerful group be moving along this rarely traveled mountain path? What could have compelled them to save her?
Her mind was in a tangle.
The strangely amicable demeanor exhibited by the mage leading the party threw her into further confusion. It wasn’t like typical hospitality. It wasn’t merely about looking good to secure the Young Lady’s backing.
If that were the case, they wouldn’t be acting and speaking so freely.
That mystery unraveled in the Elmest Territory. Her confusion was put to rest there.
“I have, well… connections with the guy who’s now the Northern Duke. You could say we’re friends. So I might be able to assist you somewhat, Young Lady.”
The mage’s peculiar kindness stemmed from his ties with the Northern Duke. However, his demeanor was extraordinarily casual and friendly, as if they were long-time friends.
The Young Lady’s father, the Northern Duke, was cold-hearted.
He prioritized practicality over emotions and was as frigid as ice. It was he who sent the Young Lady away to that far-off monastery. And having a close relationship with such a father?
“That gentleman does have a bit of a bad temperament, doesn’t he? Would you call him stubborn or perhaps obstinate?”
…Could one freely point out character flaws so casually?
What should she do?
The Young Lady had steeled herself when she left her territory… that’s what she thought. She had resolved to accept a life of living within the monastery for the rest of her life. Of that, she was certain.
But this wasn’t a resolution; it appeared more like resignation.
As a glimmer of hope appeared, her heart pounded uncontrollably.
Perhaps she could obtain a somewhat better life. Not a life wasted away in a monastery, but a chance to start anew in freedom with a different status…
If she were to be a bit greedier, perhaps that mage could persuade the Northern Duke to restore her life in her beloved hometown. If she could reunite with the cold yet beautiful snowy scenery…
Not dying in distant foreign lands, but gently buried in the snowfield that fell upon her during birth, cradled in the embrace of Mother Earth…
She observed closely. Inside the rattling carriage, the Young Lady endlessly watched and analyzed the Crazy Mage.
He was cheerful, occasionally horrifying, and difficult to read, yet appeared simple. Furthermore, he was entirely clueless about the world, like a fool who had never set foot outside the Magic Tower.
There were certain basic common-sense notions one would naturally learn about life outside. This was a gap she needed to keep in mind.
And when they settled on the Holy City Trumpet Hall as their next destination…
And also when the Crazy Mage chose to have a one-on-one with her…
The Young Lady made her resolution. She felt fate was guiding her. She desperately needed a better life, and this was a clear opportunity sent from the heavens. Even if this was a rotten lifeline, she wanted to grasp it.
In truth, she hated the monastery more than anything.
So…
===============================================================
The Young Lady straightened her back, enveloping herself in noble grace.
It was not a high-handed authority that looked down upon others. It was dignity that expressed her own worth. Her blue eyes sparkled.
“I know that there is no reason for your favor to be directed toward my father. Thus, what I am requesting of you is by no means an unreasonable request.”
I was grasping the situation properly.
I knew that my expulsion was my father’s will; stepping into that matter would cause conflict between you and him. I understood that would hardly be to your liking. So…
“I simply ask that you allow me to meet one person. His name is Dakyten Julius, and he is my uncle.”
An intriguing request. The Crazy Mage peeled back her intent little by little, as if playing a puzzle game with questions.
“Where is he?”
“He’s a wandering traveler, but during the festival, he will certainly set foot in this Holy City Trumpet Hall.”
“And who is he?”
“He’s a person who previously held the position of cardinal; a devout believer with steadfast faith, and now he serves as a military priest.”
“Ah…”
And so it continued.
The Crazy Mage recalled an old memory. When Prince Irid gathered experts from all over the Empire to save Centra, there had been a shy military priest among them.
At that time, he hadn’t paid much attention. However, he’d remembered the distinctive color of his hair—could it be blood-related?
“Will that be sufficient? I could provide a bit more if you wish.”
“If you could show a little generosity, I would appreciate your protection until I meet my uncle Dakyten.”
“That’s not difficult at all. I promise.”
“… … Thank you, nameless magician.”
The Young Lady bowed her head. Not quite appearing pitiful nor rude; just the right angle. The Crazy Mage felt a surge of admiration at her precise motions and smiled softly.
A former cardinal and now serving as a military priest.
A cardinal, the names of those who stood at the very top of the Church of the Goddess. With such experience, he must know a great deal about the goddess. This was an opportunity for the Crazy Mage as well.
Moreover, being a former one. Whether he left on his own or due to conflicts with existing powers, the more awkward his relationship with the current ruling class of the Church of the Goddess, the better.
Is it true that doing good will bring about blessings? Or is it that all those efforts made for self-glory and personal research finally blossomed today? It was a perfect chance to delve deeper into the secrets of the goddess.
The Crazy Mage rubbed his hands together softly and said in a low voice, “I’ve made a promise, and I will grant that wish, but… you do seem to have some rather cunning corners, Young Lady.”
“… … Yes?”
“It doesn’t seem like the level of generosity I should deliver. There’s something I suspect you’ve intentionally hidden from me. You wanted me to look like a fool for not knowing common sense, didn’t you?”
“… … … …”
The Young Lady appeared frozen, as if cast away onto a snowy field. The mage smiled kindly, drawing drawings with his finger slowly.
“About this ‘Hero Selection Contest.’ It appears to be grander than I anticipated, and the meaning of the word ‘hero’ is quite considerable as well. If there’s no limit to the number of participants… nobles are bound to show interest.”
Interest? Of course, they would wish for a hero to be born within their sphere of influence.
On the way here, I had spotted several fancy carriages. While I hadn’t bothered to note the family crests, there were a few I recognized that the Crazy Mage had memorized.
The crest of the Duke Redburn.
“I saw the crest of the Tastiest Duke on the way here. It seems he might be attending to watch and enjoy the contest. Or perhaps… scheming to make his pawn the hero.”
“… … … …”
“Then, it’s likely one from the Northern line might come as well… The Northern Duke himself is rather greedy, isn’t he?”
Thus, the Young Lady’s request didn’t just amount to wanting to meet her uncle; it implied she sought protection in front of the Northern Duke.
For the Crazy Mage, this was not a difficult request at all, and he intended to fulfill it easily enough—but—
If she casually pushed, saying, “What I’m requesting is by no means unreasonable,” it made him want to tease her a bit.
The Young Lady’s complexion grew increasingly pale.
The sadistic desires of the Crazy Mage stirred beneath the surface. Perhaps he should tease her a little more. It wouldn’t hurt to leave the conversation in silence for a moment or suggest she express a bit of affection.
Just then, when he was about to indulge his sinister urges at the expense of the fledgling Young Lady…
“Mima, Mima—!!”
From down the road, a distressed cry from a girl could be heard. The Crazy Mage sprang upright, startled, like a meerkat, turning his head sharply.
“What? Oh, why are you calling for me so desperately… Damn it.”
“… … … …?”
“Young Lady, that request of yours isn’t my problem, so don’t you worry. Even if your uncle isn’t in this city, I’ll find him, so just give me one tiny favor. It’s about saving someone’s life.”
“… … Yes?”
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In the midst of the aggro caused by Bennett, what I needed now was just time.
Time to come up with an excuse about Evil God-chan’s existence. It wouldn’t need to be long, just a moment. But since Bennett’s longsword was about to bisect Evil God-chan…
I needed to halt the battle first.
So, I used the Young Lady.
“Stop, Bennett! There’s an innocent Young Lady held hostage here, so hold on! Give me enough time to clear up all misunderstandings!”
“Na-na-nonsense! With Mima here, you’re nothing but a snack!”
“Who do you think you are to act so smug?!”
“Have you finally fallen, Crazy Mage—!!”
In the midst of this bizarre hostage situation unfolding right in the middle of the road of the Holy City, the Young Lady wore a face like a cat floating in space.
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