Chapter 36 – Sacred Land? Pilgrimage? (2)

“This is the treasury?”

“Yes.”

“Remarkable. To bring an outsider here…”

“……”

Melineos, the Empress of Magic, faced a young Elf girl seemingly unconcerned with titles or authority.

“It’s a national security issue, but… you’re my teacher. And I’m asking a favor.”

“Is that so? Well, enjoy the view. Feast your eyes.”

“…Teacher?”

“What?”

“…Why the provincial dialect?”

“Problem?”

Her playful side emerged. Elven appearance reflected mental maturity, and this girl seemed quite young, despite her power.

“His Majesty’s busy, but aren’t you?”

“This is work.”

“Look at you, all grown up and responsible.”

Geornia, the Elf girl, flicked her fingers dismissively. The palace was a maze, but with the dwindling royal family, half of it was empty. Melineos figured it would fill up after Elhermina’s coronation.

“Let’s see.”

The treasury was tiered by value and rarity. Unidentified artifacts, antiques for knights, treasures to make one’s eyes pop. This section held the unknowns, the potential game-changers.

“Shiny.”

“Spoils of war, of a sort.”

“Even treasures from fallen kingdoms?”

“……”

“Well, none of our concern.”

Geornia strolled through the glittering hoard, a tourist amongst treasures. Melineos trailed behind. No other escorts. This was serious, confidential.

“Finding Cariel’s traces here will take forever.”

“…If it were me, yes. But you’re different, Teacher.”

“Spoiling you is one thing, but doing all the work… tsk, tsk.”

A playful pout, but Melineos knew better.

“Let’s begin.”

Geornia’s expression sharpened, green eyes focused.

“𐤚𐤎𐤒”

An unknown language. Blue light danced, painting lines in the air. Not the usual spirit whispers, but something… different.

Spirit and magic, fused.

Magic Fusion and Spirit Fusion. Geornia de Edelweiss, a master of the latter. Beyond summoning, she commanded spirits with unprecedented precision. Elevating spirit summoning from instinct to a science.

“Watch.”

She beckoned Melineos closer, touched her forehead. Color drained from the world, leaving an ethereal blue landscape.

They saw Cariel, bewildered, talking to someone unseen.

“Who’s he talking to?”

“…I wonder.”

“He communicated with spirits easily before, but this place… the energy’s foul. Difficult, even for him.”

“Really?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“……”

They watched. Cariel hesitated, as if to leave, then stopped, eyes widening.

[Who… are you?]

“……”

“A ghost, perhaps?”

“Or something similar? What do you think?”

“Hard to say. Nothing’s clear yet.”

“Ask Cariel. Simple.”

“Well…”

“The engagement’s tomorrow, right? But… it seems rather… low-key. Intentionally?”

“……”

Geornia, still browsing, asked abruptly,

“Hiding something? Confess. This won’t be pleasant if I have to dig.”

“You already know.”

“Not a clue.”

Playful tone, but her eyes flashed with anger.

“Take the opportunity.”

Geornia strode out.

“Let’s talk over a meal.”

Or…

“…Should I just interrogate your Emperor?”

====

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? What? Why?”

Luelde blinked at Patina, his mind adrift.

“You haven’t touched your work.”

“Oh… right.”

He couldn’t focus. Unusual for him. Is this right? What am I doing? Doubt? He was disoriented, his mind foggy.

“Still, Cariel coming to his senses is wonderful.”

“Uh… yes, it is.”

She didn’t know. No one did.

“……”

The day Cariel left… had been Luelde’s most joyous. But…

“I’ve returned from greeting Her Highness.”

“…You went yourself?”

“Please, speak casually.”

“……”

Home felt empty. Elhermina was recovering at the cathedral, spared the immediate pain of Cariel’s absence. And ironically, the princess had visited him.

“So… Cariel… how was he?”

“Remarkably mature. Dependable.”

“……”

“But he won’t forgive you. Or Lady Ermina. Or the Empire.”

“I…”

“It won’t be… violent. But he’ll need to… vent.”

“……”

Heaven and hell, back and forth. He was used to hardship, exhaustion, pain. But this… was different.

“Are you alright?”

“…Sorry. For this… weakness.”

“I have a question.”

“Anything.”

Elhermina hesitated. Should I ask this?

“Have you… sensed… a discord… around Cariel?”

“…What do you mean?”

“Mother summoned Geornia. She’ll find answers, but… I wanted to ask.”

“Clarify your question.”

“I’ve known Cariel a long time. I understand his… situation.”

Something’s strange.

“People react to him… extremely.”

“What?”

“For example…”

She gestured to herself and Luelde, self-deprecating.

“We react similarly to him.”

“How?”

“Blind faith. Like Father and Mother.”

“Blind faith? Not trust?”

“There’s a difference.”

She hesitated.

“And those hostile to him… their reactions are… categorized.”

Disregard. Contempt. Ridicule. Hatred.

“Some… act on it.”

Alesius, for example. And others.

“Normally, I’d have intervened.”

I would have.

“…But only after he left, reflecting… I realized… the discord. My behavior… it wasn’t… normal.”

“……”

“As if… something clouded my judgment.”

And…

“I believe… Lady Ermina experienced it too.”

“Ermina?”

“Just a theory. But… perhaps… a malicious influence… we’re unaware of…”

“……”

Luelde considered this. If true, it explained… things. And he could focus his rage, his hatred on the manipulator.

“And if it’s just… a misunderstanding?”

“Then… I’m incompetent, foolish, pathetic. I’ll accept that.”

Perhaps…

“That’s preferable. But if such malice exists, undetected…”

Isn’t Cariel in danger?

====

“……”

Twilight. Luelde unfolded the crumpled letter.

[I pray for Mother’s safety during childbirth. I pray for the newborn’s well-being.

With that said, thank you for the new child. I can now leave in peace. I relinquish the name Brendiar.

Being your son was difficult. Being your child was agonizing. I can’t say I wish I wasn’t born, but I’ve thought it countless times.

I prayed. Nothing changed. If I lacked sincerity, effort, desperation… then I should die. But I fear remaining in your hearts, even in death. No, I don’t fear that. I wish I’d never existed. Then these memories wouldn’t torment me.

My only regret is being your shame, your burden.

I’m sorry for being born. Forget me. Be happy.

I may return. But not for you. Understand that.

Lastly, when we meet again, with swords drawn, don’t hesitate. Don’t hold back. Neither will I.

Don’t worry. I won’t burden you. I relinquish Brendiar.

I tried to understand you. I saw your pain, your sleepless nights, your anxieties. I resented you, blamed you, but couldn’t hate you.

But this child… is innocent. Love this child. Cherish them. Tell them you’re grateful for their birth. Every day. Help them. It’s your duty.]

“……”

No closing, no farewell. No space left. At least it ended with a period. But no more words.

He wanted more.

How did this happen?

He couldn’t give this to Ermina. Never.

“Sorry for being born…”

What did that even mean? How could he say that?

If only it were a dream. A nightmare. A hallucination, a curse. Ermina had almost been lost to a curse, clinging to their child in a phantom world. She’d accepted reality, though.

Grief was familiar. Too familiar to count. How had he endured? Because they were together.

But to make his son say, write those words… how could he accept this?

“……”

Was this sadness? A numbness beyond tears, beyond thought? He’d known such grief, but this… this felt like his soul was shattering.

“…But…”

He couldn’t stop. Giving up was surrender. He had to find him, ask him, confront him. If his resentment demanded Luelde’s life… he wouldn’t give it, but he’d apologize. He’d beg forgiveness.

But…

Where?

He was gone. Untraceable, even by the Empire. How?

“Pull yourself together.”

If he fell, Ermina would too. The Empire, the Emperor… they’d all crumble. He couldn’t afford weakness. Not after bowing to the nobles, their vile schemes. He couldn’t stoop to their level. The chains of duty bound him.

He didn’t want to think. Not now.

Just a moment… a moment of peace… to accept this.

Father. Heavens. Lord.