Epilogue: The Changing God

By the time the cleanup from the battle was over, the sun was deep into twilight.

There was an almost miraculously small number of casualties on the Friedland side, but by the time they had brought in all the missionaries who had been left wounded on the battlefield, and broken down the statues of the guardian saint and left them by the roadside, more than half a day had passed.

Afterward, Yukinari appointed a minimal number of guards to keep watch around the town, and then he and the others gathered in the Schillings mansion. In the reception room, they discussed the battle and considered what to do next.

“First of all, everyone, thank you for your help.” Fiona looked around the room. “As a representative of this town, I want to offer my deepest gratitude for how you fought.”

Besides Fiona, Yukinari, Dasa, Berta, Ulrike, Veronika, and even Arlen were in the reception room. Each of them was sinking into the room’s sofas, awash in the fatigue of surviving a battle. Fiona had personally brought them all something to drink and offered them words of appreciation.

The imprint of an open-handed slap was still visible on Arlen’s left cheek; this was provided by Fiona. Although he had ultimately turned out to be Friedland’s ally, breaking out of jail in contravention of the town’s decision was not something to be praised. The slap was the price he paid for his disobedience, but it was in its own way also a sign of Fiona’s goodwill.

“I feel like we got through by the skin of our teeth,” Yukinari said. All of the wounded, including the townspeople and the captured Angela, were being tended to by the doctor. Again, by some miracle, there were no deaths on the Friedland side, but no one believed it would go as easily the next time.

This time, the missionaries’ intention had been to attempt conversion again in a town where it had failed the first time. In other words, regardless of what they might do to the erdgod, Yukinari, or the mercenary they’d been pursuing, Veronika, they hadn’t come intending to kill the villagers. That was their miscalculation. Now, however, with missionaries wounded and even dead at the hands of the Friedlanders, any further war against the city could be expected to be total.

“I think we can expect another attack by the True Church of Harris,” Veronika said dispiritedly. “It’s probably safe to assume the knights who ran away will report that this town has resisted conversion.”

Obviously, not every town and village in the world had yet been converted by the True Church of Harris. The further you went into the frontier, the more the authority of the Church waned. It was perfectly natural.

Yet Veronika had never, she said, heard tell of a town the Church had tried and failed to convert. As a mercenary, she had traveled all over the map, and she was probably right. Which meant that the True Church of Harris was likely to come against Friedland with all the terrible force they could muster.

“Lord Yukinari...” The anxious voice came from Berta. In today’s battle, Yukinari had entrusted the rear of the town to her and Ulrike—and Berta was somewhat worried about the fact that the experience of real battle didn’t seem to have changed her personality at all. Or really, rather than changing, she was worried about being broken. Some people never recover from the shock of killing their first person—Veronika had told her so.

But it seemed that in Berta’s case, at least, such worry was for nothing. She was still the retiring type. From another perspective, she had done well to fight on despite her personality. Perhaps the fact that she had stopped short of taking the organist’s life had something to do with it. He was badly wounded, certainly, but not mortally.

“I guess it’s possible we could make a move to attack their base in Aldreil first,” Yukinari said. Even as he spoke, the possibility didn’t quite seem real. He just couldn’t picture them striking Aldreil. He didn’t fight because he wanted to. He had never considered a preemptive attack before.

“Yuki...” Beside him, Dasa took his hand. It wasn’t that she was worried about the prospect of battle; she was bothered to hear Yukinari speak of attacking of his own volition for the first time. She knew Yukinari well. She was trying to keep him from hurting himself.

“It’s all right,” he said. He squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

It was something he had known all along, even though he had chosen to ignore it until this moment. If he had power, then what he wanted or didn’t want was irrelevant. He might not have any ambitions of conquest, but that didn’t mean those around him would leave him alone. Keeping Friedland safe would demand more than just dealing with what was right in front of him. Merely repulsing his enemies each time they attacked would inevitably lead to destruction.

If all this had concerned only himself alone, that might have been one thing, but now what happened and how he reacted would affect the lives and fate of an entire town. He would have to make sure he looked ahead, kept the initiative.

Aldreil was part of that. He had no idea how the Missionary Order was running the town, but he did know Veronika’s companions were still captive there. He might need to send someone there to gather intelligence. He might also need to interrogate Angela and the other captured knights.

Regardless...

“I can see I was being naïve,” he said, looking around at everyone. “But we can’t go back now. Whatever happens next, there’s a good chance it will involve the people of Friedland. That some of them might die. I’ve never asked for living sacrifices, but this makes things no better than under the previous erdgod. It may make them worse.”

Fiona raised a hand, saying, “Yukinari, that’s—”

But Yukinari cut her off. “I know. What I’m saying is, we can’t be shortsighted. If we only think about the wounded right in front of us, the dead, then we might fail to prevent even worse tragedies in the future. So we have to be ready—ready to shed blood today so we don’t have to shed blood tomorrow.” He turned to Arlen. “And Arlen. You really saved our necks this time. Without you, that other statue might have reached the town. I’m sure it was hard to fight other missionary knights, but you still did it. Thank you. Really.”

Yukinari bowed his head. Arlen, just for an instant, froze wide-eyed.

“H-Hmph. So you’ve finally realized how strong I am.” His words didn’t quite seem to fit the occasion. He turned away. Yukinari could tell Arlen was embarrassed, and as all he wanted was to give credit where credit was due, he didn’t press the point.

“Berta, thank you, too. I really put you through the wringer...”

“N-No, my Lord!” She shook her head hurriedly. Feeling the room’s collective gaze on her, she shrunk into herself—but slowly, almost reluctantly, a shy smile spread across her face. “Not... Not at all. I... I was finally able to be of use to you, Lord Yukinari. It was scary, but... I’m glad I did it. Happy.” Her head got lower and her voice got smaller as she spoke.

“Berta,” Veronika said. That was all, but it seemed to spark some realization in the girl, who suddenly blinked a couple of times, then grabbed the hem of her dress with both hands in what seemed to be a gesture of resolve.

“For you, Lord Yukinari, I’ll push myself. For you, I can do anything.”

“Uh—r-right, thank you,” Yukinari nodded, overawed by an expression he had never seen from Berta before. It left him a bit jumpy, as though she had confessed that she loved him. Dasa was watching the entire exchange from behind her glasses with a dark look. But never mind that.

“I’ve decided to fight,” Yukinari said seriously. “I hate to make people like Berta do the things fighting involves, and I don’t want to force Arlen to confront his old comrades. I don’t want Dasa to have to strain herself, and I don’t want to worry Fiona. Honestly, I would have preferred to avoid this if there were any possible way.” Yukinari took a deep breath and looked around. “But it’s time to put aside childish things. That’s why I’m asking—no, begging—for your help.”

“Who’s begging?” Fiona said, looking at the imploring Yukinari with a smirk. “You’re our god. You ought to have a little more confidence telling us what to do.”

“...Right.”

Everyone in the room looked at him. Yukinari scratched his cheek and smiled with embarrassment.

●

They received a report from the Missionary Order on the frontier, sent with the utmost urgency. It wasn’t brought by a messenger bird, but by a light-armored knight traveling as quickly as he could on horseback—something important enough for him to risk attack by demigods or xenobeasts along the way to deliver. The head of the Missionary Order, Walt Dickson, immediately sought an audience with the Dominus Doctrinae.

Walt ordered the exhausted knight to change into more presentable clothing, and then the two headed to the Great Cathedral to see Justin Chambers. There...

“...Your Holiness?” Walt frowned, stopping in place.

Justin looked exactly as he always had, and the interior of the Great Cathedral hadn’t changed, either. But there was something else there, something Walt hadn’t seen before.

“Father?”

The speaker was a young girl. Fifteen or sixteen years old, perhaps. Short, even a bit of baby fat here and there. And she was standing right next to Justin’s chair.

She had shoulder-length silver hair and crimson eyes, along with glasses—a vision aid that was catching on in the capital. It all gave her a distinctive appearance.

“Who are these people?”

She pointed at Walt, who found himself at a loss. Who was this girl, exactly? Justin Chambers wasn’t supposed to be married. There were rumors that he was involved with some alchemist woman—but even if that had been true, and even if their union had produced a child, he would never have had the audacity to have her attend him in the Church’s central cathedral.

“Captain,” the knight asked with a look of bafflement. “What in the world...?”

“Curiosity can kill more than just the cat,” Walt told him, pushing aside his own questions. There were some things he didn’t need to think about. He just had to do his duty.

“Captain Dickson,” Justin said. “I hear we have an urgent message.” He completely ignored the child’s question, as if to say that the girl calling him “father” didn’t exist.

“Yes, Your Holiness,” Walt said, falling to one knee. “I’ve come with the report.” The knight accompanying him imitated his gesture. “As a matter of fact, two of the civilizing expedition units stationed in Aldreil, the Ninth Brigade and the Seventh Brigade, have sent a message that’s difficult to believe. Shockingly, they report that we’ve lost two of our guardian saint statues.”

“The statues...?” Justin narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. Perhaps he was surprised, and it was no wonder. To lose two statues at a single stroke should not have been possible. They were the Church’s ultimate weapons, capable of felling an erdgod. A successful attack on even one of them would require a hundred soldiers, and half of them would die in the attempt.

“What was the cause?” Justin asked.

“It was—Go on, tell His Holiness.” Walt gestured to the missionary beside him. The man bowed his head once more, then began to explain about the place where the problem had occurred—a frontier village called Friedland.

He told how this town had been reported as successfully converted by the Sixth Missionary Brigade, but how it now appeared that the Sixth Brigade’s guardian saint statue had also been destroyed. He spoke of how Friedland seemed to be turning into a center of anti-Church sentiment, and he told how there was someone there who was venerated as a god. Most importantly, he said...

“Eyewitnesses to the battle claim that the ‘Blasphemer of Blue Steel’ was there...!”

The words sent a shock of anxiety through Walt. The Church considered that name taboo, and although a handful of people above a certain station did know about it, simply mentioning the Blasphemer could get you into serious trouble.

Walt thought this might provoke displeasure, or anger, from Justin. The current Dominus could not be happy to suddenly hear the name of the Bluesteel Blasphemer. But...

“Is that so? Is that so indeed?”

Justin didn’t shout or snarl, but a thin smile twisted his lips.

“Your Holiness—”

“So that’s where he’s been hiding...” Justin nodded eagerly, then looked at the girl beside him.

“Father...?” The unidentified child cocked her head. It almost seemed she didn’t understand the meaning of the conversation she’d just heard.

“Be joyful,” Justin said in a gentle tone. “It seems the day has come for you to fulfill the reason for your existence.”