Epilogue: Who Reigns Over That Land

It had been about ten days since the arrival of the Missionary Order. It had been decided to build a house—a sanctuary—for the “erdgod” once more, upon the ruins of the old one. This would be no improvised hut made with whatever was at hand; it would be a sturdy structure of brick. But because building it would demand a certain amount of work, the effort was undertaken not by the townspeople, who all had jobs to do, but by a group of temporary laborers under the watchful eye of a master carpenter.

“Come on, don’t slack, now!” The baldheaded, muscular carpenter lost no opportunity to fling invective (or was it encouragement?) at his workers. “A god’s going to live in this house. We wouldn’t want to disappoint him!” Most of the men wore dark looks on their faces, but they worked silently.

One, however, could be heard to say, “Why should I be reduced to such...” It was Arlen, muttering to himself as he toiled. He might have believed he was keeping his voice down, but the master carpenter saw and heard all.

“Why? This ain’t yer capital, and you ain’t in charge of anything here.” He gave Arlen a jab in the head with a beefy hand.

Arlen and the others had ultimately found themselves with no choice but to accept Fiona’s “suggestion.” They reported to their Church superiors that they had successfully slain the local erdgod and converted the populace, and that they would be staying in the area. And they would—but of course, not as knights of the Missionary Order. Fiona and the rest of the town could hardly allow that. Their weapons had all been confiscated by the villagers, and the former knights were set to menial tasks wherever they were needed.

The twenty or so knights who had fallen victim to Yukinari and Dasa’s attacks were permitted to focus on resting and recovering—but they were, in a sense, hostages to keep Arlen and the others in line.

“If you have the energy to run your mouth, you’re not working hard enough! Move those hands!”

“...Yes, sir.”

Arlen apologized, then heaved a sigh and went back to work.

●

There are things we understand even without putting them into words. But sometimes, if we don’t put them into words, we can’t move on. That is what ceremonies and rituals are for: to allow us to turn toward the future, a future different from our past.

“Lord Yukinari...”

In the parlor of the Schillings residence. Fiona’s father, Hans, and their butlers had said they would be happy to attend, but Fiona had turned them down on the grounds that she and Berta were most suited to making this particular case to Yukinari.

Which case?

“...Please, stay in this area and protect the town from demigods and xenobeasts.”

It was a plea he had heard many times from Berta’s lips. But now she was not begging him in the midst of a crisis, but asking him formally as he found himself in the Schillingses’ parlor for the second time. And that gave the words a distinctly different cast.

“I dedicate anew my body, my heart, my soul—everything I am, to you. Please...”

“Uh, but...”

“Yukinari,” Fiona said from her place beside Berta. “Consider this a request from me, as well.”

Yukinari was silent.

“We’ve managed to throw the True Church off the scent for now, but if they get wind of the truth, there will be reprisals.”

“Can’t you just make an excuse?” Yukinari said. “Tell them some dirty, rotten erdgod made you do it?” He indicated himself with a wry smile.

“I suppose it’s possible,” Fiona murmured with a frown. “You know, we are building a new, proper sanctuary.”

“That really isn’t the problem.”

“Is—Is Berta not enough to satisfy you? If you need... something more, then as I told you—I’m available as well.”

“Okay, stop right there.”

Women and money were the two traditional means of winning a man to your side—and Friedland didn’t have much money. They needed some way to convince Yukinari to stay. And Yukinari, at heart, was really just a teenage boy. It was hardly as if he was unhappy to have the attentions of two such beautiful young women as Fiona and Berta. But...

“I admire your resolve, I do. But don’t you get it?”

“Get what?”

“I’m not human,” Yukinari said, as forcefully as he could. “You saw it yourself.”

“Yes. We did.” The two women nodded.

“And you’re not worried about... you know. Offering yourself to something like me? Didn’t anyone ever teach you to value yourself?”

“You look human enough,” Fiona said. “And supposedly, there even used to be marriages between humans and erdgods. Although I’m not sure if it’s true.”

“What,” Yukinari asked after a pause, “beautiful maidens and horrible beasts?”

It was true that in his “previous world,” Yukinari had known of a number of myths and legends that spoke of the same sort of thing. And this world he was in now, with its erdgods and xenobeasts, certainly seemed full of creatures that would be right at home in those stories. Maybe the people of this world would have less of an objection than Yukinari himself to becoming the spouse of something not human.

“Listen. The Church made me. I’m—”

An artificial human. An “angel,” a tool for proselytization. In other words, his very existence was meant to be a secret; and as if this were not motivation enough to hunt him, the Church would still want revenge for the deaths of the prior Dominus Doctrinae and the head of the Missionary Order. If the Church found out he was here, he would not be surprised if they sent every knight in the Order to Friedland.

“Let me try to put this another way—alright, Yukinari?” Fiona said, her tone suddenly growing more familiar. “I’m really glad I met you. I hated the old system of sacrifices; I really wanted to do something about it. But I—” For a moment she stopped, hesitating. But then she went on: “I didn’t have the courage.”

“Courage?” he asked.

“Yes. To plot a future different from our past.”

There was a long pause. “I don’t...”

“I believed it had to change. But changing something that’s gone on so long—there are a lot of challenges in that. And if you get it wrong, you could even make things worse. Those were my reasons—my excuses—for not doing anything.” Her tone carried a note of self-recrimination, yet her face was bright. “But you broke down all those old, frozen things. Maybe you didn’t mean to—maybe it was just chance—but I don’t care.” Fiona had bowed ever so slightly, looking at the ground, but now she looked up at Yukinari’s face. “I wonder if maybe that’s what gods are.”

“How’s that?”

“They kind of follow along—take the things humans just happen to do, and find meaning in them. They exist as gods, and even if they don’t do anything—well, that’s where the meaning comes from.”

“I think you’re confusing gods and pets.”

“It’s possible,” Fiona smiled. “So stay here, Yukinari. With us. Please?”

“Um, p-please add me to the—the list of people who want you to st-stay here,” Berta said. “I want you to stay with us, Lord Yukinari—and I want to stay with you.”

Yukinari said nothing, then let out a long sigh.

A god. A pet. It didn’t matter. What they were saying resonated with him far more strongly than any appeal about “the good of the town” or “the good of the people” ever would have. And so...

“...Alright.”

Fiona and Berta looked at each other in astonishment, their faces shining.

He followed this up with a feeble attempt at pretext: “I was just thinking I couldn’t drag Dasa all over creation forever, anyway.” Then he turned to his partner as he noticed her intense stare. “Erm...?”

“Yuki,” Dasa said sullenly. “I knew... you were a... womanizer.”

“Hey, all that stuff about offering themselves or whatever, that’s their words, not mine.”

Dasa wrapped both her arms around Yukinari’s left arm, silent.

“Dasa?”

“But I want you to be able to be free, Yuki.” She looked at her feet as she spoke. “Don’t be... burdened by your promise... to my sister.”

“Dasa...”

“Otherwise, I would surely...”

Surely what? he wondered. But she didn’t finish her sentence, only tightened her grip on his arm. He let out a breath and put a hand in her silver hair.

This seemed to prompt Fiona and Berta to begin discussing some kind of order between themselves.

“So I guess that means starting tonight, we can just take turns in Yukinari’s bedroom?”

“Oh! In that case, I’m—”

“Hey, you,” he said. “Better cut that out, or this conversation is going to go south fast.”

“You think?”

“Oh, I don’t think. I know.”

Fiona gave him an inquiring tilt of her head. “Is that your command, as a god?”

“Yeah, I guess. I command you, as the god of this land—drop that talk for now.”

Yukinari let the words out with a sigh, acutely aware of Dasa, her look swiftly darkening, beside him.