240

Chapter 240: Even in a Life Like This (3)

Archmage looked at the Inquisitor, who was emitting an enormous amount of Divine Power while keeping her mouth shut as tightly as a clam.

The eyes that had once been green and vibrant like summer foliage no longer held either vitality or light.

The same was true of the mouth that had once smiled brightly enough to seem to sparkle. The person who had learned to smile more freshly with each passing day had become stiff again, just as she had been when she had first emerged from the Temple.

Every one of those changes had been brought about by the absence of a single person.

“Mage.”

But that change had not come to only one person. There was someone else here who had been shaken badly by the empty space one person had left behind.

“The Lord sent someone for you.”

Archmage looked at Deathbringer’s face, dry and cold as a winter gale, and took a moment to choose her words. Even in that brief glance, the area around his eyes was terribly dark, beyond what could be blamed on the shadows alone. He had probably been sleeping poorly every night.

His face, now thin enough that his cheeks had begun taking on an ashen hue, hid beneath the shadow of his hood and pretended to be fine.

“…I see. Did you hear what they wanted?”

But pointing any of that out would only ruin the atmosphere again, just as it had several times before.

So Archmage deliberately left it unmentioned and changed the subject. Deathbringer shook his head from side to side in denial.

“All right. I can hear it myself, then. They’re over there?”

“Yes.”

She had already confirmed the Inquisitor’s condition, which had been her purpose in coming here, and if someone was waiting for her, there was no reason not to return. It was where she worked in the first place.

Thus Archmage nodded readily and turned back. Deathbringer, apparently having come here only to deliver the news, turned away as well. They headed in different directions.

“…Is Berserk over there too?”

If Deathbringer was going that way, he was probably going to help reinforce the shelters. The Inquisitor was using her power, but no one knew how long this wind would last.

“I don’t know.”

“…I see. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

But if asked whether what they were doing was truly right, Archmage found it impossible to answer yes.

It was true that everyone was suffering and no one had any room to spare, but refusing even the bare minimum they could eat or enjoy while continuing to work was undeniably twisted in some way.

If she spoke from the heart, she wanted to tell them outright that what they were doing was not devotion but self-harm, not service but overwork.

She simply could not bring herself to say it because she knew they were doing it precisely because they could not bear otherwise.

“Your influence was greater than I thought….”

No. Even if she did rebuke them, would they listen?

Archmage remembered how stubbornly they reacted whenever she tried to say anything about it—walking away or sinking into harsh self-reproach.

They would never be stopped.

Not until they became capable of forgiving themselves.

“Archmage.”

“Ah. I heard you were looking for me. Has something happened?”

If there was one thing she could call fortunate, it was that Berserk, unlike those two, had not reached the point of outright self-harm.

Though, judging by how things had been lately, Berserk was hardly in good condition either.

In Berserk’s case, it even seemed less as though the departure of the Demon Knight itself had shocked her and more as though something else was mixed into it.

In other words, Archmage could not even guess why Berserk had sunk so deeply.

And if the cause was unknown, it was only natural that no solution could be found either.

“Well….”

How did every last one of them manage to become a problem with no answer?

With one part of her mind, Archmage thought about the state of her companions. With another, she listened to the messenger.

It was not particularly difficult work.

Aside from the fact that the circumstances of her companions themselves were an unsolvable problem, perhaps.

“Acting as an envoy….”

The Lord’s request, relayed by the messenger, was a genuinely arduous one.

For the moment, she could set aside the fact that communication with the Mountain Lord barely worked at all through the handful of Great Forest characters the Mountain Lord laboriously wrote.

That would probably not be the most difficult part.

Instead, Archmage looked toward the place where the Mountain Lord was staying.

The wind and rain, imperceptible beneath the golden barrier, would reveal the majesty of nature the instant she stepped outside its protection.

“All right. Tell the Lord I’ll do it.”

The thought of forcing her way through weather like that all the way to the place where the Mountain Lord was staying was rather daunting….

But when she considered how many lives depended on this, refusing to go was not an option.

She accepted the Lord’s request.

“Would it be better if I left immediately?”

“The Lord did not specifically say so, but we would be grateful if you did.”

“Understood. Then I’ll leave at once.”

“I’ll bring your escort here.”

“Thank you.”

It would probably take around ten minutes to bring the escort here.

Estimating how much time she had to prepare, Archmage opened the entrance to a nearby tent.

The person working inside with shackles around the ankles slowly raised their head.

Despite being suspected of heresy, there was no way they could afford to leave a Great Sage idle in a situation this desperate.

Thus Blue Coral had been lending their strength while remaining restrained.

For the record, this was also where Archmage worked.

Calling her a guard would be a bit grandiose. It had simply been decided that putting two Great Sages together improved efficiency enough that there was no helping it.

The danger of collusion?

Unfortunately, the present circumstances were nowhere near comfortable enough to worry about that.

“They say if you keep doing someone favors, eventually they start thinking it’s their right. This is exactly that.”

“You heard everything?”

“I think the fault lies with the people who held that conversation right outside the tent.”

That was fair enough.

Archmage shrugged.

“It is shameless, yes, but there’s no helping it.”

When the subject returned to that, Blue Coral’s fingers stopped moving.

“Yes. There was no helping it. There wasn’t. This world had no choice. Neither did he.”

Their eyes filled with regret directed at something unseen.

“I see. Let’s stop this conversation. It will only leave a bitter taste in our mouths.”

At that gaze, and at the strangely particular choice of words, Archmage narrowed her brow slightly.

Her hand was already pulling out the tool Blue Coral had given her before being detained.

Click.

The device that absorbed sound within a designated range swallowed the voices inside the tent.

Now the Temple guard standing just outside would be unable to hear their conversation.

It was a trick possible only because not a single mage had reported the existence of this device to the Temple.

“More importantly, when you said ‘he,’ were you talking about the Demon Knight?”

Archmage had also been keeping silent for this very reason.

The only person here capable of speaking about the Demon Knight’s decision was Blue Coral.

Of course, Blue Coral was also the one who had maintained endless silence about him ever since the Demon Knight left.

“Who knows.”

“You can’t even tell a friend one thing?”

More importantly, he had no choice either.

Archmage turned over the clue Blue Coral had offered for the first time in a long while.

It did not feel especially shocking.

After all, she had already believed the Demon Knight would never have left this place for no reason.

That belief had only grown stronger because none other than Blue Coral had helped him escape—despite Blue Coral’s denials, there was simply no way the claim that it had all been an accident was true.

“I trust the Demon Knight. I trust your choice as well.”

After all, if a demon had truly been involved in the Demon Knight’s escape as the Temple claimed—if the Demon Knight had been consumed by the demon, or deceived by it, or something of that sort—could Blue Coral really have failed to notice?

And if Blue Coral had noticed, would they ever have let him leave so quietly?

So Archmage believed the Demon Knight’s escape had been carried out entirely by his own will.

And she was willing to respect that choice.

He was someone worth trusting that far.

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“But separate from that trust, I simply want to know. I want to know why he had to do it.”

Trusting someone and wanting to know them could coexist.

You could trust another person without knowing everything about them, but understanding them was possible only by knowing them.

And Archmage wanted to understand the Demon Knight.

She had missed far too many chances to do so.

That was why she wanted to grasp even this final piece.

That was all.

“Will you remain silent even now?”

“…….”

But if even that was not permitted….

“…I understand.”

Then she had no choice but to accept it humbly.

In the end, the opportunities she had missed were her own fault.

“…If everyone could live in comfort through the sacrifice of one innocent person, would that sacrifice be right?”

“……?”

“Is it truly wise to offer up the most common yet most precious thing of all merely to preserve fools and dullards?”

The person who had remained silent for so long finally offered a long clue—the reason Blue Coral had been unable to do anything but help the Demon Knight.

At least, that was how it seemed to Archmage.

“…Is this a question of morality?”

She knew Blue Coral had a softer heart than they pretended.

But she had never thought Blue Coral was the sort to gamble everything simply because one person was pitiable….

“This isn’t a question of morality. It’s a question of who has the right.”

“……?”

Before Archmage’s thought could finish, Blue Coral shook their head.

“He decided he would endure no longer, and I decided to respect his choice. Because I had no right to stop him. That is all.”

There was something vague about those words.

He decided not to endure any longer?

The Demon Knight?

…The same man who had quietly wished only for death while treating himself as a demon?

“Tell me just a little more. What did he decide not to endure? What did he learn that made him resort even to a method he never would have chosen otherwise? What… what in the world did he—”

Shaggi ears caught the sound of footsteps reinforced by metal.

They were probably the soldiers coming to escort her.

There was no more time.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Blue Coral.”

“He didn’t give me permission.”

There was no more time.

“We’ll talk again later.”

Archmage switched off the sound-blocking device and deferred the conversation to another time.

Of course, both Archmage and Blue Coral knew perfectly well that they had merely been fortunate this time and there might never be a next time.

She hurriedly gathered her clothes.

“If you have time, go see that grandson of mine. I can’t get a single clue how the brat’s been doing.”

Just as Archmage put on her robe and was about to pull open the tent flap, Blue Coral tossed out the remark.

Archmage’s eyes narrowed.

“…You haven’t heard any news?”

“I can’t leave this place. And that brat isn’t allowed to come in here either.”

Was this a clue or not?

Archmage worked her mind furiously while giving a ready answer aloud.

“All right. I’ll look for him on my way back.”

Beyond the opened tent flap stood the soldiers who would protect her.

* * *

Technology lost half its meaning when you wanted to help people with inventions but had neither materials nor tools.

And so Meister—the technician who was simultaneously an inventor, scientist, engineer, and architect—did the only thing available right now.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for someone.”

Slacking off.

“You’re still looking?”

“Yes.”

Surprisingly, it was not exactly a waste of extraordinary talent.

After all, you only needed to divide up the refugee camp and plan the drainage routes once. There was no reason to keep clinging to that work forever, and Meister was hardly the only person capable of planning it.

The same was true in the capacity of mage and inventor.

As already mentioned, without materials, tools, or time, there was little Meister could actually do.

At best, they had built water purifiers out of pumps stripped from the city and installed stoves here and there to reduce the danger of fires.

Even the battery was unusable because of the awkward fact that it could only be charged by dropping it, combined with the reality that there were no magic items that could be powered by connecting them to a battery.

And there was no time to improve either problem.

At that point, what was left besides ordinary manual labor?

So Meister let their eyes roam while their fingers and mouth itched for a cigarette.

More reinforcements had arrived, and the camp was in chaos as some tents were relocated in preparation for the flooding of low-lying areas.

Unfortunately, the person Meister wanted was still nowhere to be seen.

That remained true even though Meister had searched every day since the Demon Knight escaped.

Whether by coincidence or design, that person was genuinely difficult to find.

“Who are you looking for, anyway?”

“An adventurer who arrived with the reinforcements a few days ago.”

But Meister could not give up.

Once something aroused their curiosity, they were the sort of person who had to investigate until satisfied.

“An adventurer? Why?”

“I have something to say to that person.”

Besides, although the others did not know it, Meister alone knew that the Demon Knight had received something shortly before disappearing.

And Meister also knew that the Demon Knight—the man who had shown almost no intention of protesting even after Meister tried to persuade him, who had seemed resigned to accepting his execution—had attempted his escape on the very day he received it.

Wasn’t that a little too neat to be mere coincidence?

“Uh… this isn’t about the accusations against you, is it?”

“That isn’t an unreasonable guess, but I’m offended. If that were the reason, do you think I’d be looking for the person this openly? I’m trying to complain because they handled the commission like shit.”

“Ah….”

But if that delivery truly had been what changed the Demon Knight’s mind, what on earth had been written there to produce a result like this?

As far as Meister could tell, the Demon Knight was not someone whose mind could be turned easily.

“If it’s about a commission, wouldn’t it be better to go through the Guild?”

“Look at the state the Guild’s in. It’d probably be faster for me to find the person myself and complain than wait for them to do their jobs.”

“That’s true.”

That was exactly why Meister was searching now.

They felt as though they would never be satisfied until they knew what had made that stubborn man go so far as to escape.

Of course, being an adventurer did not mean the messenger necessarily knew what had been delivered.

And even if the adventurer did know, they might invoke some confidentiality clause and refuse to tell Meister.

Still, Meister had to try, or the lingering curiosity would never disappear.

“If that’s all, then fine… but still, be careful. If the Temple finds out, they might misunderstand again and accuse you of collusion or something. You haven’t even been cleared of the suspicions against you yet.”

The other person tried to dissuade Meister because they knew Meister was under suspicion of heresy—severe enough that Meister was not even permitted to visit their grandfather.

Meister merely snorted at the warning.

“What serious problem could there be? Do I look like I’m going to lose to some forced argument made up entirely of claims and opinions with no evidence or proof?”

It was true that Meister had met the Demon Knight on the night of his escape.

The Temple did not know it, but Meister had even urged him to object to the execution and secretly passed him an item.

But pushing Meister into the category of heretic for nothing more than that would be absurdly stupid.

If Meister truly had been a heretic—not that there was any chance of that ever happening—then Meister certainly would not have acted in a way that made suspicion this easy.

“Hmm. Ah. Now that I think about it, maybe I should be careful. Arguing with idiots who use their heads as ornaments would be annoying too.”

“No, that wasn’t what I meant….”

Meister had borrowed an item as a precaution, but it was not omnipotent.

And after thinking about it a little more, those people did not seem like the sort who would accept anything even if each point was refuted one by one.

The Temple bastards were idiots who believed faith could serve as the reason for everything.

Talking with people like that would only waste Meister’s time while leaving them with the feeling that their brain was being contaminated by conversing with fools.

“I’ll be careful.”

“Right….”

For reasons entirely their own, Meister decided to accept the advice.

The other person looked slightly exasperated, but said nothing more.

Apparently, good enough was good enough.

“……! Found them!”

“Oh.”

Then, after a moment, Meister finally spotted the adventurer from that day.

A gray ponytail and an ordinary face.

No mistake.

“Hey, adventur—!”

But before Meister could call out, someone else grabbed the adventurer first.

A hood pulled low, green ears rising between the folds.

It was that guy whose name Meister did not know, but with whom Meister had nearly shared the end of their life.

“Why is that guy….”

Why was Green-Ears looking for that adventurer?

And why were they grabbing each other by the collar?

Meister rummaged through their memory for some clue.

All the while, their legs steadily carried them in that direction.

Whatever was happening, Meister had no intention of losing the person they had finally found.

“There you are.”

“…What, the Temple? What now?”

Apparently quite a few people had business with that adventurer—or perhaps with Green-Ears, judging by who had just been addressed.

Before Meister could even properly announce that they had business with the adventurer, a gray-haired Inquisitor Meister had never seen before joined the scene as well.

And so, all at once, four people who knew one another’s faces only through a patchwork of overlapping connections found themselves gathered in the same place.