Ch.87Looking Back to Speak (7)

“Well. Professor Anna believes that the reason ordinary Imperial citizens love stories of heroes so much is because they represent an entirely new type of hero. I’d like to hear your esteemed opinion on this matter.”

Osrant eagerly jumped at the opportunity deliberately laid out for him.

“Because they’re relatable!”

“Relatable, you say?”

Osrant excitedly explained his theory.

Previous heroes were marked by extraordinary qualities and being chosen ones—receiving revelations from gods, lake maidens, or prophets behind veils, or pulling swords from stones.

But the heroes who faced the Demon King were different. They embodied human triumph, overcoming the fears in their hearts to move forward.

“The Seven Heroes weren’t chosen ones. They were quite ordinary—well, a Holy Knight of the Mercy Knights, a bishop, or someone who went from pirate to mercenary captain isn’t exactly ‘ordinary,’ but they’re familiar to common people and the kind of people who could exist somewhere.

And these relatable individuals saved the world! That’s what makes them familiar heroes.

A select few chosen by unknown criteria feel very distant. But what about these heroes? They give courage.

‘Ah, yes. Those people did it too. So if I overcome these difficulties, I could become like them.’

People want to resemble them, become like them. They give hope that you can do it too. That’s who they are.”

“What do they give?”

“Hope!” Osrant’s small eyes sparkled.

“This is exactly what differentiates the Seven Heroes’ story from other hero tales. Hope!

Even someone despised by everyone, like a Samaritan, can become an object of respect.

A woman who was once a gamekeeper for nobles now receives veneration from those same nobles as a hunter.

The person once called a quack medicine peddler now lives happily in a proper laboratory with full support!

That’s hope. The hope that you can live as you wish. The hope that current difficulties can be overcome with the right mindset. The hope that if you show courage, the world will respond in kind!”

Osrant clenched his fist. When Kain showed little reaction, he gave an awkward laugh, perhaps thinking he’d been too enthusiastic.

“I got carried away! I’m just an excitable person. Ahaha, of course, you know, right? I understand that His Imperial Majesty is truly making every effort. But these days, with the climate issues and the nobles, things are rather unsettled…”

“Professor Anna is truly heartbroken about that as well.”

Osrant seemed to belatedly realize his words might be interpreted as “Isn’t this happening because the Emperor isn’t doing his job properly?”

“Oh. Did I perhaps…”

“I know you didn’t mean it that way.”

Kain realized Osrant had misunderstood. He assumed Kain’s face had hardened because of perceived disloyalty in front of an imperial representative.

In reality, Kain’s bitter smile came from knowing the horrific truth about the heroes. And that they could never be symbols of hope.

Though there was a metallic taste in his mouth, Kain maintained his kind smile.

“However, I’d like to ask you this. While the Seven Heroes overcame their fears, there must have been those who didn’t and perished. Some were devoured by beasts. Why don’t you shed light on them?”

“That’s an important point,” Osrant nodded.

“Of course, those who overcame hardships are far fewer than those who didn’t. But that’s precisely why there’s no need to tell ordinary people about it.”

“No need?”

“As I said earlier, a writer must tell people what they want to hear. Who wants to hear about failure? That’s not what people want.

Everyone knows countless failures lie behind success. Since everyone knows this, there’s no need to emphasize it. Even without being a sage, one knows there are far more people who consider themselves failures than successes. And…”

The professor lowered his voice conspiratorially and winked.

“Wouldn’t it be more impressive for future generations to hear that seven heroes appeared in a crisis of extinction, rather than saying only seven out of more than ten thousand people succeeded?”

“What’s the difference?”

“The former carries the nuance of ‘It’s possible, but you probably can’t do it,’ while the latter means ‘A miracle occurred amid impossibility.’

When presented with the former, people inevitably make comparisons. ‘Could I be among those 7 out of 10,000?’ This leads to jealousy, resignation, and discontent.

But if you say a miracle occurred amid impossibility, people fantasize, ‘Wow, could I create a miracle too?’

Isn’t it better to dream that a miracle might happen in a life where you expected nothing, rather than blaming yourself: ‘Seven out of ten thousand succeeded, why couldn’t I? Others can do it, why can’t I?’

Doesn’t everyone want to be their own hero at least once?”

“For what purpose?”

“For hope, I tell you. Without it, people go mad. Hope is like a carrot tied to a long pole—even an exhausted horse keeps moving to eat it. Of course, they’ll never actually get to eat it even if they reach the destination!”

Professor Osrant refilled their drinks. They raised their glasses for another toast.

“As you know, we’re somewhat removed from that sort. It’s like looking down from a high mountain peak. Why? Because we’ve achieved some success.

This is what we call the leisure of life. Satisfaction! Here’s to satisfaction!”

Another toast. Kain’s tongue felt slightly numb. Professor Osrant’s eyes were completely glazed. Kain judged this to be the right moment.

“The crusaders who faced the Demon King—the Fifth Crusade—were truly common folk, weren’t they?”

“Indeed.”

“Then perhaps many inexperienced people participated? Apprentice knights, squires, or aspiring heroes?”

“Need you ask?” Osrant chuckled as he chewed on a piece of cheese.

“People of all ages and genders participated. There had never been such a widespread recruitment for a crusade before. The word ‘crusade’ has something noble about it, doesn’t it…

But as I mentioned, all sorts of riffraff gathered. Most of them were people of weak resolve.

Some even fell for the Demon King’s temptations, they say.”

Osrant’s voice grew more secretive. Kain gave a hollow laugh, assuming it was drunken boasting.

“That’s the first I’ve heard of this. Is that another secret story you didn’t record?”

But Osrant’s expression was quite serious.

“No. I didn’t write it because there was no cross-verification. It was a story only William the Chaste told.”

“What story?”

“A story about a porter.” Osrant stroked his cheek.

“There was apparently a time when the Seven Heroes nearly fell apart. William’s porter kept claiming to receive revelations, babbling about where they should go.

But it sounded quite plausible to the crusaders. As you know, in such situations, people are prone to being captivated by plausible nonsense.

So in moments of crisis, when he shouted, ‘We must go this way!’ everyone would rush in that direction. On days when the Shadow was particularly thick, he’d shout, ‘We must go that way!’ and everyone would rush there…”

Kain feigned composure as he waited for the rest. Osrant’s brow furrowed deeper.

“But in the end, that fellow collapsed too. It was the Demon King’s deception. There were traps where he pointed, and the already diminished crusaders faced a crisis of dissolution. Even the Seven Heroes argued among themselves, blaming each other.

That’s when Arius’s charisma shone. With an eloquent speech, he calmed all conflicts and reunited the heroes’ hearts. But no one except William told this story, and Arius himself was very reluctant to speak about it.”

“When did you hear this from William?”

“When he was drunk. After a lecture, there was the usual reception, and he whispered to me secretly in the hallway. ‘Listen well, brother. That damned bastard nearly got us all killed.’ But something is strange about it.”

“What’s strange?”

“William is the only one who ever mentioned this.”

Osrant tilted his head, then waved his hand dismissively.

“Well. According to Arius’s explanation, just as all Seven Heroes had deep emotional wounds, William was obsessed with an illusion.

The ‘porter’ William spoke of was the sum of his anxieties, not a specific individual.

‘All seven of us have such entities. The Demon King’s shadow is that deep and dark. It’s a karma that all seven of us must carry until death. I only hope no one else will ever have to make such sacrifices…’

Ah, how noble.”

Osrant looked ready to shed tears of admiration.

“The other heroes made no comment on William’s claims. Instead, they simply agreed that if Arius said so, he must be right…

I told you that a writer tells people what they want to hear. But even writers know when they should or shouldn’t write about something that doesn’t exist.

Cases that cause unnecessary commotion. Cases that leave room for misinterpretation. If writing something would make readers depressed, it’s better not to write it at all. It’s also irresponsible to blindly record someone’s unfounded conviction.”

“But you’re telling me now?”

To Kain’s question, Osrant replied brazenly.

“Because Professor Anna seems interested. And I know many stories she might find fascinating. I have so many I’d like to share them with her in person if given the opportunity.”

This must have been the professor’s true intention. To pique curiosity by deliberately sharing tantalizing tidbits. Kain played along, pretending to be impressed though he hadn’t actually found it interesting.

“Well. I’m quite intrigued too, but even to me, William’s account seems excessively abstract. Such accounts usually contain specifics—who the person was, where they came from, physical characteristics…”

“Ah, he mentioned those too,” Osrant scratched the side of his head.

“The porter introduced himself as an apprentice knight of the White Blood Knights. Ridiculous, right? The White Blood Knights didn’t even participate in the crusade. It’s absurd to think they’d travel from their stronghold in the western mountains to the northeastern wasteland, and they rarely listen to anyone except the Emperor.

But William said he didn’t believe that claim. The White Blood Knights put ten applicants in a yard and tell them to fight it out.

Anyone who survives must be incredibly skilled, but the porter had no talent with a sword. That’s why he was just carrying luggage. His courage was admirable, but it turned out to be another of the Demon King’s tricks…

And do you know what’s even funnier?”

“What?”

“He was popular among the young ones, the children. He was apparently the leader of some group or gang, and had a way with words. He lived a life little better than a beggar with children younger than himself, and when the crusade was recruiting, he signed them all up along with himself.”

Kain looked at Osrant with disbelief. During the Empire’s period of turmoil, there was a time when children roamed in groups away from their homes.

The ill-tempered old man at Masada Fortress. The veteran of the Third Crusade with the Black Phoenix brand on his shoulder, preaching about the “Great Era” to foreigners. And the old man longing for his departed son.

“…I told you, all sorts of riffraff gathered. This part isn’t certain, since no one would confirm it. The Empire doesn’t know much about it, and the Pope desperately pretends not to know.

But judging from the circumstances, the crusade against the Demon King had a high proportion of children. Kids not even twenty years old.

And between the disavowed Fourth Crusade and the Fifth Crusade, there was a kind of happening. A crusade organized by children.”

Kain knew the name. It was the crusade that the old man of Masada’s son had impulsively joined.

“The Children’s Crusade.”

“You know about it!” Professor Osrant cackled.

“Nothing was written about their fate. Of course, it was undoubtedly a massive scam.

The Pope was so furious he burned those involved at the stake! Even that filthy old man couldn’t overlook that.

But the Children’s Crusade did exist. They just disappeared. No one knows where they went.

Some might be living as slaves across distant seas, taken to the eastern kingdoms. They have slavery there, you know. Pretty boys and girls might be confined in harems of northern or western heathens.

And some of them joined the crusade against the Demon King. They found the right path! Of course, they all probably died or went mad afterward.”

“That’s appalling,” Kain answered sincerely.

“It is appalling,” Osrant agreed.

“The Children’s Crusade sounds nice, but they were really just innocent kids deceived by heretical con artists. Claiming they received revelations that they wouldn’t age or die if they ate fruit from the Tree of Life—aren’t those truly despicable people?”