Chapter 47 – Who Are You, Mister?

“This is…”

How to interpret this? Grandeus… here?

“This is it! Found it!”

Philbar, under a parasol, waved a cloth excitedly.

“See or hear something?”

“Yes.”

Cariel glanced at Alesia and the Baronenes.

“You know Grandeus?”

“Of course. Why?”

“…He was Saint Cariel’s master.”

Philbar stared, puzzled, then his eyes widened.

“What?! …You know who Grandeus was? That’s… not public knowledge…”

His expression flickered. He whispered,

“This… simplifies things. But… keep it quiet.”

“……”

“This could… shatter the Church’s narrative… the very foundation of knighthood. They’d bury it.”

“Hide the truth?”

“Truth is irrelevant. Perception matters. We’re… discreet. Not doing anything wrong.”

“500 years… 1,000… then, perhaps…”

“……”

“Humanity… civilization… fragile. Wise individuals might accept it, but most won’t. And some… will exploit it.”

Cariel nodded slowly.

“Understood.”

“A bittersweet… victory… inspiring. Back to work. This… didn’t happen. We’ll… align our stories.”

The parasol drew a crowd.

“The Baron!”

“Lord Baronenes!”

Roia intervened.

“This is the place?”

“Yes. Saint Cariel… died here.”

Philbar glanced at Cariel.

“Hmm.”

Alesia watched the crowd, somber.

“I’ll recreate the scene… with magic. Clear the area. A barrier. After sunset.”

Philbar, inspired, retreated to his carriage.

“You heard him.”

Roia addressed the crowd.

“Dismissed! Reconvene tonight!”

“Enjoy the festival preparations.”

To Alesia and Cariel. They nodded.

“Let’s visit the church. You were going anyway.”

Cariel followed.

“You can’t wear that.”

She grumbled as they walked. Two days until the festival. He’d planned to visit the church.

“……”

Plans… never worked.

The church, atop a mountain, 200 uneven steps, spiraling upwards. A challenging climb. The view, rewarding, but partially obscured. A couple complained.

“Can I… climb the church?”

“Why?”

“The view.”

“Try.”

Alesia was skeptical. Cariel scaled the wall, a vertical sprint.

“Whoa!”

“An elf?”

“Amazing!”

He reached the roof. The view… underwhelming. His emotions… muted. Indifference was a shield, but the world felt… dull. Empty.

“……”

He jumped, falling. Gasps.

Thud!

A controlled descent, a perfect landing.

“How?”

“…Natural.”

Instinct. Not his own power. Compensation, perhaps.

“How?”

“Gaps in the wind… hard to explain.”

“Hmm.”

“You could too, Alesia.”

“…Too much trouble.”

She seemed… thoughtful.

“Let’s go inside.”

Cariel sighed. Churches… uncomfortable. Not the solemnity, but… Ermina.

Inside, simple. High ceiling, stained glass, rainbows. Beautiful, but… unmoving. A cross-shaped hall. At the center…

…Statues.

A kneeling knight, his sword planted before him, his head resting on the hilt, eyes closed. Saint Cariel. Around him, figures in rags, weeping, their faces pressed against him. Expressions of weeping.

Worshippers and knights prayed. Others meditated.

“I’ll change. Look around.”

Alesia left. Silence descended.

Cariel found a corner.

“Why did Grandeus teach Cariel?”

–How would I know?–

She seemed genuinely surprised.

–Wisdom, not Omniscience.–

“……”

–You came here. Why? Expecting this?–

“No.”

It was… baffling. Grandeus’s swordsmanship, his armor, and now… Saint Cariel. He wouldn’t have known…

–Strange coincidence? Fate, perhaps.–

“……”

That was… unsettling. His life… preordained? It angered him.

“I don’t care about… knights.”

No desire. No reason. Only… broken pride. No dreams, no hopes.

If this was his fate… he’d reject it. Even if… it killed him. He wouldn’t be a pawn.

====

He questioned the Demon King.

“They curse you… how does it feel?”

–My orders. Practice. Every human encounter. They’re sincere.–

Surprising. No ego?

–Different values. I fear only… losing His favor.–

Arrogance, perhaps.

“The Golden Rule… why?”

–To teach… respect.–

For…

–Communication. Negotiation. Equals. Education.–

Demons lacked that. Only contracts.

–Barbarians are civilized… compared to demons.–

“They changed… because of you?”

–Partly. Unavoidable. Wolves and sheep… maybe. But birds and fish… together? Impossible.–

Give up. Attachment… obsession… hinder wisdom.

Resolute. He wondered… how to break her.

“Waiting long?”

Alesia returned, in loose men’s clothes, a crimson sash.

“No. Entertained.”

“Entertained? Here?”

“People… buildings… structures… stories…”

Like…

“This church… the labor… the sweat… the statue…”

“…Observant.”

“Huh?”

“Most people… see only the surface.”

“Uh…”

He’d just been… talking.

“Thank you.”

“Just… stating facts.”

…A good person.

“……”

Saint Ermina… revered, compassionate… distant. But Alesia… different. He hid his unease.

Festivals begin in their preparations.

Back in the city, laughter, excitement. Children, bright-eyed. A shared fruit. Hammers clanging. Children playing, flower carts, street sweepers, a singer’s playful heckling.

Vibrant. Peaceful.

He watched, enjoying the atmosphere, until sunset.

====

He returned to the site just before sunset. The phantom man still stood there, visible only to him.

“This is an illusion. Don’t get… lost in it.”

A barrier in the street, a ritual within. Suspicious, like a cult or demonic summoning. White powder, a magic circle, a pentagram, strange objects at each point. Saint Cariel’s sword, placed in the center.

“Ready!”

Tension. Cariel was calm, but the others… expectant. Philbar chanted, a complex spell. The barrier shimmered, a blue light against the darkening sky. The city vanished.

A barren plain.

“This is…”

The Baronenes, shocked.

“Cariela?”

A cluster of shacks, barely a village. No walls, just a signpost. A slum. Crumbling huts at the foot of the mountain.

“The location… distorted over time.”

Philbar, unimpressed.

“Worse than I imagined.”

Roia, stroking his beard, disturbed.

“Some things… are lost in translation.”

Alesia, like Cariel, was calm.

“Sketching everything? Details! Precision!”

Philbar, impatient. His servants diligently recorded the scene.

“Look.”

Luke pointed. A man on horseback, leading hundreds. Mismatched armor, weapons. But… formidable. Thick arms, scarred bodies. Leather armor, primitive, yet… menacing. Like predators. Their breath steamed in the air. The leader, on a brown horse, clad in thick leather, a horned helmet, scarred and brutal.

“The ancestors of Dabass, Banus, Metran… the Ice-Sea Sand Tribes.”

Humans, but… different. Centuries to achieve parity, their cultures still clashing.

“That man… an early Banus ancestor. Deceived, killed by the Fierce King of Dabass. But… legendary. His brother founded the Banus dynasty.”

Philbar, the historian.

“…Boring.”

Alesia yawned, picking her ear. Philbar scowled.

“Your history! Show some respect!”

“Technically, I’m Imperial.”

“Even more reason! Saint Cariel… the foundation of knighthood… even they acknowledged him…”

“I know the story.”

Alesia cut him off.

“They were tricked, defeated, retreated, then ambushed. The end.”

“If you knew…”

“I don’t enjoy… massacres. I’m a healer.”

That explained her… detachment.

“Is that… him?”

Ludhi pointed. A man emerged from the village. Ordinary clothes, nothing special. But… two swords.

Luke frowned.

“Two?”

“Only one remained. He must have lost it. Inferior metallurgy back then. No enchanted weapons.”

Ludhi explained.

“Correct.”

Philbar agreed.

So far… nothing unusual. The others watched, expectant. But Cariel felt… disconnected.

I…

Even if this man was great… was he as great as Father? As holy as Mother? He didn’t know. They were heroes, but to him… just… resented parents.

“……”

The scene blurred, dissolving like watercolors.

“What—?”

“What?!”

“How—!”

Confused shouts, fading like distant echoes.

====

“Cariel! Let’s change the world!”

The aspiring knight met his lord. Drove out bandits, fought in skirmishes, gained renown.

…

An old woman, eyes clouded, muttered,

“Strange.”

“What is?”

She peered at the man in leather armor.

“You had a wife… but she’s gone. She found another.”

“…Perceptive.”

Cariel agreed, unmoved.

“What? Really?”

A companion clapped him on the shoulder.

“…A long time ago.”

Over ten years. Gain and loss. Wood for fire, warmth for comfort. He’d sacrificed love for strength, to protect their home, their world. They were more precious than family.

“But… so many stars around you… children? Strange. Never seen anything like it.”

His companion grinned.

“Old woman’s losing her touch, eh? Time to retire.”

“Brat! It’s not that easy!”

“……”

Cariel smiled faintly.

“Comforting words.”

“Wait! There’s more.”

“More?”

She coughed.

“One of those stars… will come to you. I only see… you interpret.”

“…?”

“Old woman! My love life? Marriage?”

“Doomed. Stay away from… strange places.”

“That’s not a fortune, it’s a curse!”

Cariel’s friend argued. Cariel chuckled.

…

“Look at this!”

Cariel, in tattered clothes, face grimy, raged.

A middle-aged man in armor glared from within the tent.

“How dare you?! Speak to me like that?!”

“Why attack defenseless villagers?! If you needed food, ask!”

“They wouldn’t give it all.”

“They need to survive!”

“Not our people. Irrelevant.”

“They’re not human?!”

“Cariel!”

Bang!

The man slammed his fist on the table, his eyes bloodshot.

“Whose warrior are you?! Whose vassal?! Who is your lord?!”

“I won’t serve… those who harm the innocent!”

“If they were enemies… they’d do the same! Haven’t you seen it?!”

“I thought… you… were different… I trusted you… with my sword…”

“Damn it!”

He kicked the table.

“I didn’t want this! But what choice do I have?! My family! My people! They’ll starve! You condemn me?!”

“No other way?”

“Tell me! If there is, I’ll do it!”

He declared,

“If I must abandon my humanity… to protect them… I will! If I don’t… our enemies will!”

“…You’ve changed.”

“No! You never knew me! Only the cruel survive! Let God judge me! Let history decide! If not… then God is wrong! Why this misery?! A trial? Give us the strength to endure it!”

He was once wise, compassionate, a rare ruler who cared for all. He’d share his food with a hungry child. But… he’d broken.

“This is my last mercy. Don’t interfere.”

“…I can’t.”

“Then what?! We return empty-handed?!”

“…Even so…”

…

He returned home, wounded, to find… ruins.

“……”

His lord… had been right. They’d thought the same, acted the same. This… was the result. Ashes. Sorrow, grief, despair.

He walked, as if in a trance.

“……”

The edge of the forest. The small cabin, built with his friends, over sleepless nights… ashes. The garden, the shed… gone.

“……”

Two small graves, beneath a tree. He knelt, the wind whipping around him. Rain began to fall.

“Mister… who are you?”

A small voice.