CHAPTER FOUR

As a rule, outsiders who stepped foot on the island stayed at the church.

The visitors from the Ruvik Alliance were not excepted from this rule.

They proceeded toward the fortresslike church in a showy manner, as though it were a royal visit.

The people who disembarked from the gigantic vessel matched the information that Yosef had passed on to Col.

In the lead were four flag bearers, each hoisting up the banner of the Church. Walking along the path they left in the snow were four knights of the Church carrying a palanquin, where a majestic, kingly man was seated.

A drape embroidered with gold thread hung around his shoulders, rings with jewels the size of eyeballs decorated his fingers, and on his head sat the pointed hat that symbolized the pedestal of the pope. Col did not know where he was from, but he came from a church in a town that was host to a cathedral, where he held the position of archbishop.

As someone who wished to become a clergyman, Col had no choice but to show the utmost respect. He bowed his head when they entered the courtyard, but when he stole a glance at the seat of the palanquin, there he saw an energetic man in the prime of his life, rather young for his rank. Col surmised there was something extraordinary that made up for his age. Perhaps it was the ambition that the man could not completely keep from showing on his face.

A great number of knights followed in after, but in this cold, with metal armor wrapping their bodies, the single piece of cloth draped over their shoulders was a token defense. Snow immediately blew over them, and soon they began to look like the snowmen on the side of the road after a while. Their faces were strained not for the sake of their dignity but because they were worried about frostbite.

“That’s a lot of boxes of gold.”

Horse-drawn carriages followed behind. Yosef whispered his comment to Col, almost unintentionally. There were four of the sturdy draft animals, lowering their heads out of necessity as they pulled their burdens along.

Behind that was another guest on a separate palanquin whose outfit made him look like a ball of fur. He must have been the merchant from the Ruvik Alliance. His subordinates followed in droves, clerical staff carefully carrying packages that likely contained parchment, as well as hired mercenaries bringing up the rear.

Reicher was the one who came out to greet the procession. His face was twitching, but it probably wasn’t an affliction of his usual drunken state. Undoubtedly, he was sober at the moment.

It was as though a wolf had suddenly appeared among the rabbits.

“What do you think? The letter said to return immediately if there might be any danger to you two. With signatures from Master Stefan in Atiph, as well as a Lord Hyland. A noble of the kingdom?”

No matter how anyone looked at it, the only conceivable reason this many people would come calling during this time of year was the fight between the kingdom and the pope. Hyland’s fears were not groundless.

Hyland had only told him to investigate the situation. Nothing more.

On the other hand, it would be unthinkable to leave the island before learning what the other party’s goal was.

Col had hesitated momentarily, but after finally making up his mind, he began to speak.

“We are to find land for a monastery, but we also have one other goal as well.”

Yosef blinked in surprise, then showed him a troubled smile.

“Of course you do. That’s to be expected if Master Stefan personally takes to pen and paper. I am aware of the situation.”

He shrugged his own big shoulders before placing his hand on Col’s.

“Please let me know if I can do anything to help.”

Col wavered for a moment on whether he could trust this man but decided to do so in the end. He could not imagine that Yosef had run so earnestly to greet them after they came from the boat if he was insincere. Just in case, he looked toward Myuri, a literal wolf among men. When she noticed his pointed stare, she grinned back. Her instincts also indicated it was safe.

“I wish to know what they want.”

Yosef gave him the thoughtful gaze that those who lived in harsh environments shared.

He peered into Col’s eyes for a few moments. Perhaps he saw something there, because he slowly closed his eyes, then placed his hand over his chest in a salute.

At the same time, the regal archbishop descended from his palanquin and folded Reicher into an exaggerated embrace. While that was happening, the assistant priests stood at the front of the procession, raising their voices, doing their best to make the way for the honored guests.

“We might be chased out of our room at this rate.”

They had been given a private room far beyond their means, but that had been because the hall was empty.

“My relatives have a house here. Why not stay with them? The other townspeople don’t think too highly of them, but they may not say anything in this situation.”

The people here were mostly of the opinion that nothing good could come of having deep ties with merchants from the south who came to do business. This alone was a clear indication of the disparity in power.

The Ruvik Alliance and the archbishop who came by ship certainly knew about this, so Col suspected that they were deliberately displaying their position of strength. Whatever their purpose may be, it definitely involved driving a wedge into the region because of the anticipated war with the Kingdom of Winfiel. Those boxes of gold, piled as high as the mountains, were none other than flexed muscle.

This region was certainly wanting for money. If they had enough gold and silver coins, there were any number of unfortunate hardships they could avoid. Even Col had considered offering them money to win them over.

There were several strange things about all this, however.

These islands were lands the Church tried to win over many times but had always failed to in the end. Going on that, he thought such obvious tactics would only bring resistance. And he could think of even worse things than that.

For example, if the islanders used the money they received to arm themselves and build new ships, it would actually become more difficult to control them with the threat of force. The Ruvik Alliance was a mercantile coalition that was mainly based in areas even farther south than the Debau Company. No matter how many massive vessels they owned, it would be virtually impossible to indefinitely deter the northern islands from betrayal. It was inconceivable for anyone to deploy an armada for surveillance when there was a war to fight.

If the islanders acted rationally, then the inner circle of the pirates, including the island of Caeson, would first wring money from the Ruvik Alliance, and after straightening out their systemic issues, they would send words of friendship to the Kingdom of Winfiel. Or perhaps they would threaten to intervene during the war itself. By constantly adjusting the scales of who they sided with at the moment, they would be able to have their cake and eat it, too. It was possible they could continue to squeeze out money from both parties. Autumn had no reason not to refrain from such an opportunity.

Squeezing money from a rich country and Church would not pain the good-hearted nearly as much as selling the daughter of a fisherman with a broken leg into slavery.

So the question was this: If Col was able to think it through this far, then why did the Ruvik Alliance and archbishop not realize it?

Or perhaps the grand merchants were inciting the archbishop to make irresponsible decisions? Perhaps they had convinced him that this land was a poverty-stricken region deserving of pity, and that by granting them lots of much-needed money, the inhabitants would even side with them in their war against Winfiel. If that happened, the merchants would obtain a market to sell various kinds of goods, giving them an opportunity to earn money.

However, the core issue with that plan was still the distinct possibility of betrayal. If the people of the islands did not ally with them in the war against the kingdom as expected, the people held responsible would be whoever planted the false information.

Moreover, there was also the problem that Yosef had pointed out.

Merchants never did things pointlessly. If they brought boxes of gold, then they were aiming to return home with something worth their while.

It was highly unlikely that they would be buying an equivalent amount of fish.

What were they planning to take home?

Even if the archbishop planned to exchange the money in return for certain special privileges, for a merchant to bring only money to leave here was much too wasteful.

The scales did not balance out.

The entire situation was peculiar.

“Are you thinking again, Brother?”

When Myuri called out to him, Col snapped back to reality.

The procession into the church had calmed for now, and they were all beginning to find their places. The ones remaining in the courtyard, standing around and chatting, were merchants unrelated to the Ruvik Alliance or porters. The snow that had been falling all day was growing stronger, but it seemed everyone had completely forgotten about the cold after witnessing such a sudden event.

“Yes, there’s something I just don’t understand…,” Col wondered aloud, bringing Myuri and Yosef to exchange glances.

Then they heard a loud voice coming from beyond the courtyard.

“The Ruvik Alliance is using all accommodations in the church! To those staying in the church, please move to the port town! If you cannot find alternate accommodations, then please come to us with a proposal! The Ruvik Alliance is using all accommodations in the church!”

The first thing the archbishop and the wealthy Ruvik Alliance merchant did was stuff gold into this church’s pockets.

Those who lacked the money were kicked out into the cold.

“Oh dear, such extravagance for such an empty time of the year.”

As Yosef stroked his beard, he smiled absently.

“Well then, shall I introduce you to my relatives’ house?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“No worries. After all, Master Stefan has written me many times, too, so that I remember to mind my manners.”

When he heard that, Col imagined Stefan, frantically writing the letter.

At the very least, his conscience ached terribly.

Then they retrieved their things from the room and left the church.

The Ruvik Alliance and the archbishop.

What a shady pair.

The inside of the tall building with sharp corners seemed more like a cavern.

The floor was packed dirt, and a stone, waist-high hearth lay in the middle of an arrangement of furniture.

There were stairs in this house leading to a higher level, but the second floor was only so big. The rest opened up to the ceiling, where the underside of the roof was visible. Crossbeams ran lengthwise and breadthwise across the ceiling, where a great number of fish and vegetables hung off them. It seemed they were being smoked in the fumes emanating from the hearth in the center of the house.

Myuri’s mouth was drooping open, as though looking up at bats that hung from the ceiling of a cave, as she gazed at the preserves of a cold land.

“Find anything interesting?”

The shrill, amused voice belonged to an old woman with wrinkles on her face so deep it was uncertain whether her eyes were opened or closed.

Yosef’s relatives’ home only housed this old woman and her son’s wife. Her son and grandson had both gone to work in Atiph.

“If I sleep on my back, I think I’d only dream about food.”

“Heh-heh-heh.”

Myuri had said something similar when she slept under the wool blanket. Col shot her a sideways glance before giving thanks for allowing them to stay, even handing the wife several silver coins. The wife, who kept the house while her husband and son were gone, had more muscle in her arms and width in her waist than he did. Her faith, too, was abundant, as she was so grateful to him that it almost flustered Col. He felt rather guilty that he was not actually a priest.

When they finished exchanging greetings, Yosef rushed outside to the gathering in town. It was not Autumn, but the elders who took care of the day-to-day on the island, and so he left, saying that a meeting was likely about to be held to deal with the situation. The people of Caeson must have been reeling from the giant ship that appeared so suddenly.

On the other hand, the two women in the house were enthusiastic to treat these two odd guests who had come to stay with them. Even the old woman had her sleeves rolled up as she began preparing supper.

With nothing to do, Col and Myuri sat by the hearth fire. Finding himself unable to calmly watch the peat fire, Col went outside instead.

There was still a bit of time before the sun set, but thick clouds blotted the sky, laying a gloom over the land. The dismal color in the air was the same as that time on the beach.

He circled around the house to the back garden and found a shed. He took shelter under the eaves while the snow still continued to fall.

“Brother, you’ll get sick if you keep coming outside.”

Myuri had followed him outside, squishing his cheeks together with her hide-gloved hands as she spoke reproachfully.

“I’m anxious.”

“…”

She simply looked up at him silently as they stood beside each other. She seemed slightly irritated—there was a strong sense of Again? coming from Myuri.

“That was a lot of boxes of gold. They may demand conditions, whether they like it or not.”

“But isn’t it a good thing, though? The islanders need the money.”

She was right, and that was exactly what made him worry.

“I doubt they are doing this out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Well, those noble-looking people in the palanquins didn’t look very nice.”

She chuckled.

“And I must investigate what conditions they might force upon the islanders. If I cannot, then I will be unable to complete the mission that Heir Hyland has given me. If their talks settle quickly, then I need to report my findings correctly, as quickly as possible.”

“Well, I guess I don’t really care about that.”

Myuri crouched down, gathered some snow in her hand, and pressed it together.

“Then, what should we do? Do you want me to eavesdrop behind the walls?”

She threw the snowball, then waved her hands before bobbing them up and down above her head.

It seemed like she was imitating a rabbit, though she was actually a wolf who fed on them.

“If they’ve occupied every room in the church, then that also means they want to keep people away. That means to listen in, you’d have to go around outside the walls. But no matter how good your ears are, you won’t be able to hear the voices inside the building, no?”

“Then I can just be a wolf and sneak in. I don’t think they’ll notice me if it’s night and the snow is falling.”

The color of Myuri’s fur was flecks of silver mixed in with ash. Even a master hunter would have trouble finding her on a snowy night.

“Well, if you did that for me, then sure…No, but…”

Myuri could not change into a wolf as easily as her mother could. Plus, he had just learned that she was much more bothered about her wolf heritage than she appeared to be.

He did not want to force her to do anything she would object to.

These thoughts in his head, Myuri folded her hands behind her back and took two, three steps forward.

He wondered what she was up to when she spun around and stuck her face in his.

“Yep. It’s hard for me to become a wolf, and I might get into trouble,” she said with a smile as she turned her face away from him.

He could see her cheeks and how red they had become from the cold.

“But I think there is a way to give me some courage…”

Her words were pointed, her eyes expectant. When he flinched, she pointed to her cheek, just to drive the point home.

Everything had a price, but Myuri seemed to be enjoying how troubled he looked. These kinds of actions were typically not used in situations like this.

“…It is dangerous, so let’s think of a different plan.”

“What? Aww, come on, Brother!”

Myuri showed her crushing disappointment with all her being.

“And it would be serious on the off chance that someone sees you. When word gets out that a wolf was spotted on such a small island, then everyone will fly into a panic.”

“Blehhh!”

Myuri puffed out her cheeks and kicked the snow at her feet.

If it was possible, their best option was to get information from Yosef via an intermediary.

While Col was weighing their options, Myuri’s head suddenly rose. Like a beast that had heard the footsteps of its prey on the snowy fields, she instantly stood up straight.

“Is something wrong?”

“I hear footsteps.”

“Footsteps?”

Myuri lifted her hood slightly, and Col noticed her wolf ears moving underneath.

“There are a lot of people walking together. I think they’re going to the church. They’re on the big street.”

“The townspeople are heading to the church…which means the negotiations are already starting.”

Merchants believed that time was money. And since these particular merchants were racing against the Kingdom of Winfiel, it was more important than ever.

Myuri strained her ears to listen for a while, and then she lowered her hood back into place. Before long, Col, too, began to hear the sound of footsteps on the snow, but it was only one person. The crunch, crunch came closer to the front of the house, then the sound of a door opening and closing soon after.

“It’s the round man.”

“…Mr. Yosef.”

There was an odd similarity between her and her mother, Holo, who also rarely called people by their name.

Col and Myuri circled back to the front and entered the house, where they found Yosef was in the middle of talking to the two preparing dinner.

“But, Auntie, it’s what we decided on at the meeting.”

“Heh-heh. Giving hospitality despite our poverty is the heart of Caeson. If we abandon our guests, our dead grandfathers will come creeping out from the bottom of the sea.”

As he argued with the old woman, the wife noticed Col and Myuri and called out to Yosef and the old woman.

“Oh, Mr. Col.”

“Did something happen?”

“Well, see…”

Yosef’s expression was troubled as he spoke.

“His Grace, the archbishop, wishes to hold a banquet of friendship and has invited all the leaders of the island, but we don’t have enough people. So we’re looking to get the women’s help, but…”

The church did allow women to stay, but there were a great many rules about various things, and there were likely very few with idle curiosities who would come so far to this frontier. As Col thought, he could feel someone looking at him. When he turned to look, Myuri’s eyes were oddly bright. It was his failure as a brother that he did not know what this girl, who fancied adventure stories, was thinking.

“No, no. We’ll take care of the guests in our house. They are servants of God! We can’t make any excuses, not even to our Black-Mother.” The old woman insisted stubbornly, holding a thin carrot in her hand.

The wife did not know who to side with, and Yosef was distressed.

As they stood before them, Myuri reached around behind Col and tugged on the hem of his clothes.

You know what to do.

This may have been exactly the opportunity they were looking for, and the plan she was thinking about could be a much better alternative than turning into a wolf and sneaking in.

It was only for a few seconds that he hesitated.

“There’s something I wish to talk to you about.”

“Oh!”

Col spoke to a dazed Yosef.

“If possible, we wish to learn the visitors’ purpose as soon as possible and return to Atiph.”

Myuri nudged him from behind to push him forward as he spoke.

The considerate man nodded in understanding.

“I see. Very well. Then…All right, I will tell them I will be sending four people from my house. Will there be a problem with that, then, Auntie?”

“With what?” The old woman asked doubtfully, and Yosef responded.

“We’ll all go to the church together. Then there will be no guests to take care of.”

“Mmm? What, are they going to stay at the church instead?”

The old woman looked at them, a disappointed look on her face. But four people?

The church was asking for women’s help. The old woman, the wife, Myuri…He counted them all, and that was when he finally realized what he meant.

“Er, ah—”

“Aw, you should.”

Myuri was the one who said that. He turned to her, and she wore a mischievous smile on her face.

Col could not let this happen. He desperately tried to make excuses.

“Mr. Reicher and the guards have already taken a good look at my face, and I will arouse suspicion no matter what kind of a disguise I wear.”

His argument just made Yoesf’s shoulders shake with laughter. It seemed he was joking.

“Forgive me.”

He dropped his shoulders in disappointment and Yosef continued.

“Sir Col and I will remain on the boat. We can send help in an emergency, and there is lots of strong drink on the boat.”

“Thank you so much.”

Yosef nodded, then told the old woman and the wife this and that and then went outside for a bit.

Myuri sighed, disappointed.

“I was so close.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’ve always wanted a big sister.”

It seemed pointless to respond, so he merely sighed as Myuri shrugged, smiling.

“Well then, I’ll go prepare your clothes. You won’t look like an islander girl dressed like that,” the portly wife called out to them with a dry smile.

On the other hand, the old woman had started collecting pots, pans, and other cooking utensils, wrapping them all together with a straw rope. Though she was small, her back hunched over, she was also dexterous and moved without faltering. There was no doubt that she had been just as hard a worker in her youth.

“Okay!” Myuri responded enthusiastically and made her way to where the trunk was.

She was clever; she could certainly play the part of a server while looking for a chance to get close to the archbishop and company to hear what they were discussing. Even if Reicher questioned her, she could get out of it by saying she was helping.

“Well, I think this will fit the little miss.”

The wife took this and that out of the chests stacked in the corner of the house, before finally pulling out a wrapped package. Myuri also looked on in great interest, wondering what she would be wearing. It seemed the outfit had been in the chest for quite a while, as it was completely covered in dust that gave the wife a coughing fit, and Myuri cackled.

Col sat by the fire in the hearth as he watched them, but there was something strange about it all.

He could not put his finger on it, but when he did, he realized it was the structure of the family.

The old woman, her son, the son’s wife, and then their son. The men had all gone off to work in Atiph, so it was an all-women household. Then why did they have clothes for a young girl?

She unwrapped the package, and there was a simple yet warm-looking outfit. Myuri held it up to herself, and it was miraculously the perfect size. The make of the clothes gave them a childlike air, and they were obviously not the kind that belonged to a wife or an old woman.

The wife watched Myuri as she quickly changed. There was a gentle smile on her face as she dabbed the edges of her eyes.

“I just couldn’t let it go. I did not think it would come in handy one day,” she murmured and sighed.

By how she spoke, it was clear that the owner of these clothes was no longer around. Myuri noticed as well, and the color drained from her face.

“…Sickness?”

“Yes. She was always resilient and a hard worker. She was the kind of child who would always keep on smiling, even after falling into the sea in the middle of winter.”

“Really? We wear the same size, but I guess we have more in common than I thought.”

“Oh my.”

She was first surprised at Myuri’s words, but this was soon followed by a happy smile.

“The sleeves might be a bit long, but the length is perfect. Truly, thank you for wearing it.”

“The sleeves are fine. Right, Brother?”

Myuri changed quickly and spun around, skirt fluttering. The clothes were pale in color, made using only plant dyes; a bit plain for a girl, but they suited her well. There was almost a sense that if Myuri wore things like this on a normal basis, she would become more ladylike.

“Yes,” he agreed, but the wife did seem a bit bothered by the sleeves.

She went to retrieve a needle and began quickly stitching. Or perhaps, she simply wanted to dote on her young visitor.

“It’s been…five years since she left us. Time goes by so quickly.”

Myuri behaved and sat still as the wife sewed her clothes. The old woman had immediately headed off to the church after she finished putting away the pots and pans.

The crackling fire in the hearth was awfully loud.

“It was a day just like this.”

She shortened the sleeves just a bit and measured the length as Myuri raised her arm. It seemed perfect. She nodded, satisfied, and began work on the other sleeve.

“It was so sudden. That day, we ate together as normal, and we were just about to go to sleep.”

She finished stitching the other side, and it was perfect once more. Myuri did not say anything in thanks and could only stare at the wife.

The wife continued to smile as she talked about her memories and dabbed the edge of her eyes again. She sniffled, and Myuri placed her hand on her shoulder, as though it was natural for her to do so. Though she was surprised at first, the wife thanked her and placed her hand on top of Myuri’s.

It was clear what happened to her daughter.

He already knew that such a thing was a common occurrence.

“She must be working her hardest in a distant town now. Knowing that is enough for me to be happy.”

She had been sold as a slave.

And it would have been just as the wife doubled over and suffered in sadness. Like an arrow had been shot through his head, a flash lit up in his mind.

Of course, that is why he never noticed.

It was not that the island had enough goods for all the money the large company had rushed over.

And it would solve both the island’s and the company’s problems.

Regular goods would be sold, and that was that. But slavery was different.

Families would worry about their loved ones even after they were taken far away and they would pray for their happiness.

Therefore, by buying slaves, the Ruvik Alliance was, in a way, taking the islanders hostage. That was because if the islanders angered the slavers, then their friends and family who were sold off might meet terrible ends.

On the other hand, it was worth paying mountains of gold as the workers, even merchants, on the island could be bought.

If that were the case, then where did the archbishop fit into all of this?

A bitter taste filled his mouth as he felt nauseous from something sour swelling up inside of him.

Perhaps the archbishop had gotten wind of Autumn, learning that the islands were very serious about their faith. So he had come along to bestow the proceedings with the authorization of an archbishop, in order to make sure that nothing would obstruct the buying of slaves—and securing them as hostages.

The merchants would obtain goods, the islanders would receive money, and the archbishop would secure power on the cusp of war breaking out.

It was brilliant—three birds with one stone. Whoever thought it up was an evil genius.

Col felt nauseous because it was nothing more than the logic of the powerful—entirely bereft of mercy, no compassion. The rulers’ arrogance was obvious: They must be satisfied if we give them money, right?

The Church, which was meant to be the house of peace for the people, had already fallen too far to be saved.

That much was clear to Col after he had seen the archbishop riding in the palanquin. That was the behavior of nothing less than a king.

This could not be forgiven. It could not be overlooked.

It was not simply for the Kingdom of Winfiel.

Even more fundamentally than flaunting the teachings of the Church, it went against his own conscience.

“If she lives in a town far away, we’ll let you know if we come across her on our travels,” Myuri said to the wife, who kept wiping at the tears while continually thanking her.

Being sold as a slave and departing on a journey were two completely different things. A thousand flowery words and purple prose could not justify something that brought about so much unhappiness in households like this or the house of that fisherman at the beach.

Then, what was there to do? he pondered, and the first thing that came to mind was Autumn.

Because he was the one solely responsible for the faith on the islands, they had no choice but to persuade him in order to have a realistic chance in stopping this revolting scheme. As he reached that conclusion, Yosef returned.

“Oof, it’s cold. The snow is coming down even harder.”

The wife suddenly grew embarrassed, seeing that he had returned. She hurriedly released Myuri from her embrace and smiled reassuringly.

“Oh dear, I’m getting old.”

“I think you’re still pretty young!”

Yosef stared blankly at the two, who had grown so close in such a short time.

Col approached him.

“Mr. Yosef, there’s something I wish to ask.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Before you said that you would be able to put out a boat immediately.”

Tension crept into the man’s bearded face.

“Yes, I can. Is something wrong?”

“I wish to go see Lord Autumn.”

He had to reject the archbishop’s intentions. This scheme would deal a heavy blow to the Kingdom of Winfiel if it came to pass, so once the kingdom learned of the situation, they would undoubtedly think up their own offer. It would not be as terrible as buying a large amount of slaves. Once there was a viable alternative, Autumn should be more receptive of what they had to say.

He recalled Autumn’s solitude on that gray-colored beach. There was an air about him that made it seem he would make destructive decisions on a whim, even though he should have been searching for salvation.

After the archbishop stuffed his ship full of slaves, what would be left on this island besides unhappiness?

“I have my mission, and there is something that I must discuss with Lord Autumn.”

“That’s…No, I won’t ask. You are someone that Master Stefan took the time to write about. But there is no need to send out a boat.”

“Huh?”

“Lord Autumn is already in the church. His Grace and the others must have stopped by the monastery before coming into port.”

A feeling that stole away the strength in his knees overcame him. They were prepared.

But that did not mean everything had been decided.

And they had a way.

“I see.”

He took a deep breath, then turned his gaze to the corner of the room.

“Myuri.”

The prank-loving girl, whose silver hair had been braided in pigtails by the wife, looked over to him like a puppy.

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

On the way to the church, they met up with the other women who all carried pots and pans and food on their back. It seemed that not only would they receive an allowance for cooking but they would also be buying ingredients with the great amount of money they had, so Col could hear their excited voices as they walked.

The women stepped lightly as the snow danced around them in the wind, even though it was dark and they did not particularly pay any attention to where their feet landed.

Only the church was hazily visible in the darkness, perhaps because they had lit a large fire in the courtyard.

“Will this really be all right?”

Col dropped his voice as low as he could and asked Myuri, and she, carrying a hatchet-like blade wrapped in cloth on her back, looked at him with a mischievous smile.

“It’s fiiine. See, there are plenty of people the same height as you.”

The women walking along the path all certainly seemed the kind who could beat him in any test of strength.

“But I’m a bit sad.”

“About what?”

As Myuri brushed the snow off her hood, she spoke.

“I finally have a big sister, but she doesn’t smile very much.”

“…”

Yosef’s joke had become reality, and though Myuri seemed like she could just run about in happiness, something was still awkward about her. Perhaps she was being considerate toward him in her own way.

Col had only told Myuri about what he realized of the archbishop’s plan and what they would be doing after. Though irritated that he never knew when to give up, Myuri had grabbed a comb and smiled for him.

She even told him to call her name if he got lost because she would come find him.

“If the plan goes well, I’ll smile as much as you like.”

“Really? Then will you spend a day in town in Atiph dressed like that?”

She had loosened his hair, brushed it out well, then fixed it up with the oil she brought from Nyohhira. She lightly powdered his rough skin with a mixture of shell and zinc powder.

He wore clothes borrowed from the wife, paired with gloves and a kerchief. It was perfect.

“I’ll think about it,” he responded with a wry smile, and Myuri smiled, too.

The church seemed a bit like it was a festival. Or perhaps it was shelter in a castle for the townspeople to escape from war.

There was no particular examination at the gates, but the guard did indeed notice Col immediately.

There, the wife whispered something to him. They exchanged a couple of words, after which the guard drew his mouth taut and withdrew slightly; he must owe her something. It was a small island after all.

As the guard let him through, Col lowered his head in apology.

But Myuri, skirt fluttering, looked at the guard and grinned.

“Didn’t I say there were perks to dressing as a girl?”

The guard smiled wryly and shrugged.

After passing through the gate, they found a large bonfire lit in the courtyard, and it was as bright as day. It seemed that the dining hall kitchen was not enough to make food for everyone, so there were pots here and there, cooking. It seemed that the Ruvik Alliance had the foresight to bring enough wood for fuel, and the smell of burning firewood comforted him.

“Please quickly take whatever is finished inside!”

Worn-out assistant priests walked among the boiling pots and heated griddles.

But they still seemed rather skilled, and maybe it was just as lively and busy during the peak fishing season.

All the women around them seemed to know one another, but perhaps because the inside of the church felt like a different world in their own land, no one seemed to notice that there were two strangers among them.

“See? No one can tell.”

She sounded proud for some reason, and Col simply shrugged before he lowered the luggage on his back.

Next, they had to find out where Autumn was. The courtyard was filled with women cooking and men who had not eaten enough warm food on their long voyage at sea.

He likely would not arouse suspicion wandering around here, but it would be different inside the building.

Just as he wished he had some sort of tool, he noticed that Myuri had disappeared from his side.

He looked around in a panic when someone poked him in the back.

“Sister?”

There stood Myuri, holding a draining basket. He was surprised to see two large shrimps, boiled to a bright red and still billowing steam, inside of it.

“We can just bring these in and say, Hello, we’ve brought these for Sir Beard, right?”

She loved pranks, and she even surpassed her mother, once called the wisewolf, in telling plausible lies.

He took the basket gratefully and began to walk off, Myuri in tow.

“Sister, people won’t move out of the way for you if you talk in such a quiet voice.”

She winked mischievously.

“That’s the liveliest building.”

What she pointed to as they walked was the building in which they first met Reicher. It seemed there was a large hall and furnace there—ideal for a banquet.

He realized how odd it was for him to wonder if Reicher was having a good time drinking. And when Col imagined what anguish the troubled priest would feel when he learned of the archbishop’s plans, his chest ached. At the entrance of the building, there was a young knight of the Church, walking in place in an attempt to ward off the cold, so this must be where all the high-ranking members were. Myuri jogged over to the knight, who was looking out at the fires in the courtyard with round, wanting eyes.

“Excuse me, we’ve been told to deliver the village’s specialty shrimp.”

“Shrimp? Ooh, that looks excellent.”

“We were told to deliver it to Lord Autumn in thanks. Do you happen to know where he might be?”

“Autumn…Sorry, I don’t know who that is.”

“A really old brother with an insane beard?”

“Oh yes, he went into the chapel. The smell of grilling meat must be painful for him. He must be an amazing person who does nothing but severe training, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to have some shrimp.”

It sounded like the banquet had not quite started yet.

Just as they were about to head off to the chapel in a rush, the knight stopped them.

“Wait a minute.”

His voice was hard. The sword hanging at his waist rang with a kachink sound.

Facing away from the knight, Myuri and Col exchanged glances.

Had they been found out?

Myuri was much more decisive in times like these. She twirled around.

“Yes?”

“That woman.”

He had ignored Myuri and looked straight at Col as he talked.

At that moment, she bit her bottom lip and brought her hands to her chest.

If he snuck in dressed as a woman, then there was no helping it if he were to be deemed a spy.

There was no one to help them here, on this island surrounded by freezing seas.

It was just when she was about to pull out her pouch of wheat.

“I have a favor to ask.”

Huh? had almost escaped his lips. He coughed it off and looked at Myuri.

“My sister is ill and can’t talk very well. What is it?”

“Um, right. Uh, well…”

The knight looked around, then spoke with a guilty expression.

“Could I have some of that? Please? Even if it’s just the legs.”

Begging for food was unbecoming for a knight of the Church.

But no one could win against the icy cold and an empty stomach.

Col and Myuri exchanged glances again before she reached into the basket and handed the knight an entire shrimp.

“‘We must give all that we can.’”

Though she never seemed to be listening to his lecturing, she always was.

“These are going to get cold, so we’ll be off.”

Myuri shoved Col’s back and walked off. The knight glanced back and forth between them and the shrimp, and his expression finally softened. The only ones who indulged in luxury and drowned themselves in the logic of the powerful were their masters. The ones serving under them were simple and endured poverty like the rest of the masses of the world.

Overturning the archbishop’s plot would save people like them.

Newfound resolve bubbled in him as the knight suddenly waved to them. Col could not help but wave back to the happy and somewhat shy man.

Myuri laughed at him, and Col regained his usual senses.

“You’re a nice lady.”

She was hoping he’d snap back, so he said nothing.

The chapel was next to the library, in front of the garden that now housed rows of dried fish.

No one would come to a bastion of abstinence and silence at a time of singing and drinking and celebration.

When they opened the door and entered the chapel, they were greeted with air colder than the outside.

“…He’s here.”

Myuri sniffed and wiggled her wolf ears and whispered as quietly as the snow falling to the ground. Col nodded silently and entered, then closed the door. It was pitch-dark for only a few moments, and once his eyes adjusted, he could faintly see the outline of the building.

They passed through the corridor, ascended a short staircase, and there was an open door. There was one long aisle in the middle of rows of long pews that faced the altar.

And there he was.

There was Autumn, crouching down like a black beast.

“This is a place of prayer.”

He did not speak particularly loudly, but his voice reached Col’s ears in a way that made it sound like he was right next to him.

Col passed the basket of shrimp to Myuri and walked forward, unafraid.

“Lord Autumn.”

Autumn did not move, but it seemed he knew immediately who it was, and he may have even guessed what his business was. Col stopped in the middle of the aisle and spoke.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Did I not say this is a place of prayer?”

“I apologize. I pray thee.”

Autumn did not answer or turn around, but he did straighten his rounded back.

“It may be just my misunderstanding. I shall accept if you laugh, grow irritated, or censure me. However, there is a chance my conjectures might sadly be true, Lord Autumn. As a servant of God, I must speak on it.”

Autumn’s shadow seemed to swell, perhaps because he was angry they interrupted his prayer or perhaps because he had inhaled to sigh deeply.

Regardless, he turned around and met Col’s gaze straight on.

“That archbishop and merchant have come to this island to buy slaves. Is that not correct?”

His eyes must have fully adjusted to the darkness as he could see Autumn clearly.

It seemed there was a window of treated glass on the ceiling of the chapel. The light reflected faintly off the snow and filtered inside.

“I thought you were a foolish spy.”

There was no happiness in being right. He only made clear that there were a great number of worthless people in the world that occupied seats of power.

“Then, Lord Autumn, you understand what I wish to say.”

Col leaned forward, hoping his words would reach further inward.

But not a single hair on Autumn’s beard moved. As though bound by the rule of silence, he did not speak. Col understood then that the holy man was well aware of the archbishop’s plan and had already made up his mind.

Even though he should have known it was a destructive choice, those emotionless eyes were like those of a hopeless goat.

“God will understand our words.”

That was all he said in response. Those words stung all the more for those serious about prayer.

Col used the moment to take a deep breath and then replied.

“We live in the world of mortals. The words of mortals would be enough.”

“Hmm.”

It was the first time some emotion appeared in Autumn’s eyes.

That encouraged Col, and he gripped his fist tightly.

“Please do not clasp the dirtied hand of the Church as they continue to cling to rotting power. If you let the Kingdom of Winfiel know of the islands’ plight, they will surely give you some aid.”

Col did not have the right to make such promises nor any guarantee.

But at the very least, he believed in Hyland. He believed that God’s true teachings were still here. He wanted Autumn to believe that, too.

“And what would come of that?”

That was his only response.

“To receive any sort of charity is a mistake.”

Autumn slowly began to move toward him. It felt like the darkness was closing in.

“I only believe in the Black-Mother’s protection.”

She who had sacrificed herself for the island and may have not been human.

Not only was that the root of Autumn’s fanaticism, it normalized the act of sacrifice.

Which meant there was no reason for Autumn to refuse talks with the Ruvik Alliance, who owned mountains of gold in real life.

To choose what was certain into one’s hands was an invariable principle for those who lived in unforgiving circumstances. Even if it was burning metal, the need was overwhelming. It was necessary to calmly take a hold even if hands burned or flesh charred.

“Pray,” Autumn murmured as he slipped by them and exited the chapel.

Col could not bring himself to turn around to watch him go, let alone chase after him. Standing before the elegantly arranged place of worship, he could not move.

What was God doing? Why did he not appear from his altar? Even if he glared at the Church’s banner, spread out wide above the altar and lit dimly from the snow, the only response he received was silence.

He turned around and felt like running. His legs could not move forward because there, standing in the middle of the aisle, was Myuri, holding the basket.

“Brother, your promise.”

Her gaze pressured him. He was honest and good-natured, and once he left the dreamland of his hot spring village, the claws of reality tore into him.

Maybe what Myuri had said was right.

But was it really just? Were both Autumn and Myuri both saying that the correct way to deal with a cold reality was to have a cold heart? Was it right to simply shrug one’s shoulders and accept that this was reality with a cool head, in cold blood, even?

Those impertinent words had led to dozens of people being sold as slaves.

Suddenly, he was filled with raging fury.

There were things that even he could do.

Should he show it?

“Myuri, lend me your power.”

“Huh?” she asked back, bewildered.

With a wide gait, he drew closer to the girl standing in the middle of the aisle and gripped both of her slim shoulders.

“Brother, what? Ow, hey, that hurts!”

Myuri twisted herself and tried to run, but the basket dropped from her hands and the beautiful shrimp fell to the floor.

Right as she looked down at the wasted food, with the side of her face in front of him—

“…”

This was how he could get her to act. He knew what she wanted and how simple it was to bend her toward his conviction. Feeling like he had gotten his revenge, his lips left her cheek.

“Myuri, become a wolf and jump into the banquet, pretend to be a servant of the Black-Mother, and then their plans—”

He only made it that far.

As Myuri continued to stare at the floor, tears rolled from her eyes and made a small tap when they hit the floor.

“…”

There were no words. She looked at him, glaring. Her reddish-amber eyes wavered in anger and contempt.

It was only then that Col understood what he had done.

He hurt Myuri.

Truly, deeply hurt her.

“M-Myuri…I…”

“Don’t touch me!”

Her voice tore through him, and his hand stopped. She collapsed to the floor and stared at the shrimp—cold, legs broken. It was almost as though something precious of hers had died with it.

“You always treated me so well only because you wanted to use me?”

She bared her fangs and her claws as he stood there in shock.

“No, you didn’t. I know that much.”

Her words sounded gentle, but her mouth was twisted in scorn. She crouched, retrieved the shrimp, and placed it in the basket.

It was only moments earlier that it looked so delicious, but now it was nothing but a cold corpse.

Myuri stood, still staring at the basket.

Then, as though a string had been cut, she spoke.

“You were nice to me even when I got in your way. No matter how spoiled I acted you were still kind to me. There is no way such a nice boy could stand up against that.”

When she looked up, he had never seen her face so filled with anger.

“But I wanted you to be cool, so I thought that maybe you could manage. You’re stupid and never look around you, but your honesty is your strength. I thought you could somehow accept this island and move on in your own way. I was going to help you because I knew you would keep working hard even if you kept obeying whatever orders that blondie gave you. But—”

She sniffled and furiously rubbed her eyes with her arm. This was not the girl who would walk around all day with bread crumbs on her mouth unless her older brother looked after her.

“All you ever do is just run around like an idiot. And to top it all off…you—you…”

Thinking that she would do whatever he asked of her if he gave her a kiss was exactly the same species of arrogance the archbishop possessed. There was no love, no compassion—only what was most convenient for his egotistical self.

Myuri sniffled one more time and said, “I’m going home. Sorry for getting in the way of your trip.”

She whirled around, and there was no chance for him to call out to her. But had there been a chance, what would he have even said? He understood nothing.

And the most wretched part was that somewhere in his heart, he accepted it all calmly like it was the obvious conclusion. Or perhaps, he was trying to deceive himself from the scale of his own sin by acting brash.

He did not really understand. What he did realize was that he had just lost something precious.

That was Myuri herself, of course, but also the enthusiasm he had to be someone who lived in good faith following the teachings of God.

Though blood had rushed to his head, he still acted so selfishly toward the girl who had always looked up to him. There had not been the slightest glimmer of righteous faith in his mind.

He looked away from the darkness Myuri disappeared into and stared up silently at the banner of the Church. Up until now, it had always seemed like a strong crest that he could rely on when things were rough, but now it simply showed him how small a man he really was.

For the first time in his life, Col wished to disappear.

Then came the sound of the door creeping open. Perhaps Myuri had left, or maybe she was already on her way back? He hoped for the best, and for a brief moment his pain eased slightly, but it was a number of men who poured in. They wore armor on their bodies and several of them held shields.

It did not take long for him to realize that was only because it was proper etiquette to keep blades sheathed in the chapel.

“So you’re the rat from Winfiel.”

From between the knights emerged the wealthy merchant, who had been on the palanquin and wearing clothes that made him look like a ball of fur.

He signaled the closest knights, and the ones with shields surrounded Col. There was no point in fighting back, and beyond the crowd, he could see knights flanking Myuri, holding her in place, though she had not been tied.

Autumn had likely been the one to inform them, but Col did not feel anger nor despair.

“If you behave, we won’t hurt you. We wish to proceed peacefully.”

Col had not inherited the blood of wolves like Myuri; he had no fangs and claws with which to fight nor the will to use them. Really, he thought if he could trade his life in return for a chance to send Myuri back to Nyohhira safely, then he was fine with that.

He turned around, and the merchant nodded, satisfied.

“Good to see you’re reasonable. We’ll let you go if you stay put here for a while. Details of our negotiations will pass through word of mouth among the fishermen regardless. If anything, letting you go will be a display of our leniency.”

The knights pulled him up by the arms.

The merchant studied him from head to toe before snorting.

“Winfiel’s people have many talents. Bring him,” he commanded the knights, then turned on his heel and exited the chapel.

Myuri did not so much as glance at him, nor did she reach for the pouch of wheat around her neck.

If they let her go safely, Col would be happy.

Myuri would return to Nyohhira. And sometimes, she would venture outside the village by herself.

Then, what about himself?

What should he believe in? What should he live for?

The snowfall grew stronger and stronger.

A knight murmured to himself, “It’ll be a blizzard.”

As they had promised, they did not treat him roughly. Col was thrown into the treasure repository within the chapel, then locked inside with plenty of blankets and water. Without any windows, the room was pitch-black, and once the knight who locked the door had left, silence enveloped him.

It probably would not be until the next morning that Yosef would know what had transpired. When he did not return to the house, Yosef would understand that something had happened in the church. But even then, Yosef had no power to free Col from this place, and it would likely be difficult to leave by boat.

In the meanwhile, the archbishop and Autumn would finalize their talks, collect people from the various islands, then put them on that massive ship as slaves. In exchange, the islands would earn gold and a brief period of relief.

But what would peace for the islands be like if earned with such methods?

Did Autumn consider this a good thing? Was it another form faith could take?

As Col pondered that, he laughed to himself inside. No matter how many times he thought about this, it was never anything more than playing pretend.

There was no trace of Myuri, who should have been with him, as though she had melted away into the darkness.

He wondered if this was another kind of dream, and he was sinking deep into its depths.

That, however, was nothing more than wallowing in self-pity. It was merely an attempt to escape how horribly he had treated Myuri and all his wretchedness. That was no different from hoping to wake up and find her sitting at the edge of the bed, combing his hair.

What he should be doing now is trying to search for any form of her in the darkness.

If not, he felt like he would never be able to see her again.

“…”

But he had no idea how he should call out to her. Though the scripture was filled with the words of God, he could not think of a single one that he could use.

He wanted to devour himself in his misery. Embracing the darkness, he felt like he was about to cry uncontrollably, but then no tears came.

He did not know how much time had passed, but he suddenly heard footsteps. They were not metallic but that of soft leather shoes that walked listlessly and somewhat uncertainly. They stopped several times and sometimes turned back. But the noise did eventually draw near to the repository, and there was the sound of a key in the lock.

“Are you all right?”

It was Reicher.

“The knights were talking about an agent from the kingdom who had been caught, so I thought perhaps…”

Reicher spoke quickly as he continued glancing back at the chapel entrance.

“I have no way to know for what reason you are working for the kingdom. But if you pity me, then please hear my plea.”

Col was confused for a moment because it was none other than Reicher who opened the door to the treasure repository, where he was being kept. So then why was Reicher practically begging him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

But he then realized what Reicher had unlocked was really his own heart.

“Please report to the kingdom about the negotiations with the archbishop. The snow will swell with the coming wind and become a blizzard. It will be difficult to get to the open waters off the shores of Caeson for a few days. But if you send out a boat tonight and sneak among the narrow passages between islands, then the islands will block the wind and you may be able to get south somehow. If it goes well, then you will have a week’s head start on the archbishop’s ship. You can gather reinforcements and wait for them in the southern sea routes.”

As Reicher rambled on, Col could see that he, too, clung to his hopeful imagination.

He was met with an ugly reality that could not be erased by drink every day, so he had no choice.

“So please save the people on the ship.”

Col could not see it going so well, unfortunately. If a kingdom ship attacked one the archbishop rode on, then it would be an unquestionable act of war. This was not something to be carried out lightly.

But the reality was that Reicher had opened the door for him. And Yosef had said earlier he might be able to send out a boat. Nothing would happen if he stayed here. So he nodded and took Reicher’s hand.

“Come with me. We will leave this island.”

They were the same. Both trapped by the island, a shadow that could not move.

Reicher, however, suddenly smiled and shook his head.

“It would be quite a mess if I left. I pardoned myself from the banquet by saying I was headed for the privy. Go quickly.”

Reicher looked at him and gave him a troubled smile.

“I’ve always wanted to try saving someone.”

As grief welled up in his heart, Col embraced Reicher and patted the priest’s back.

He turned around and found Myuri standing there, staring at her feet.

“May God watch over you.”

It was not meant for anyone in particular, nor did he know if the prayer would help at all.

They left the treasure repository and hid among the commotion of the banquet.

Reicher quickly vanished, and Col could not call out for him.

That was what traveling was all about. He knew that.

“Let’s go.”

He knew she would not respond, but he said so anyway and walked off. Myuri followed him obediently. No matter how much it bothered her, she would have to take Yosef’s boat to return to Nyohhira.

They wove through the drunk men and the women who danced with them, eventually reaching the gate. The guard was drinking alone, greeting them with a look of mild surprise, but did not say anything in particular.

The snow beneath their feet was unstable like sand. They slipped and slid as they walked through it, almost like the snow was ridiculing their hurried steps. His breath quickly grew short, but he did not fall behind Myuri the way he did when they descended the mountain. They had to keep moving forward. There was no point in living otherwise. He endured his regret and sadness and stepped forward with all his strength.

They arrived at the port, where the wind howled at them even if they stood still. The snow stung their faces like flying stones. Waves crashing in from the sea echoed loudly, though he could hear the creaking of the wood on the ships and pier. They headed toward Yosef’s relatives’ house, where they found him by the hearth, warming his hands. When he looked at them, the tiredness in his eyes was replaced by a glinting light.

“We need a boat.”

“Leave it to me.”

He did not hesitate. He dumped some liquor into the fire, and it blazed strongly like a beacon.

Col undressed and quickly changed. He gathered their things and hefted the pack onto his back. For a moment, he wondered how much silver he should leave them, but it might only cause the women trouble if there was evidence that they had significant ties to these outsiders. So in the end, he left nothing as he exited the house.

They headed to the port in the wind and snow, and Yosef, who had left before them, was standing at the pier, beckoning to them.

The ramp had been set up to the boat, and there was a wavering light on deck.

“Heh-heh, this reminds me of when the Church attacked long ago,” Yosef reminisced and put them on board before he himself jumped on, then removed the ramp. He then stuck his head down the stairs leading below deck and yelled.

“All right you bastards! Show them the spirit of the island people!!”

According to the common sense Col had gained during his travels, setting sail at night was an act of suicide. Even in an emergency, boats would not set out without at least the light of the moon.

But not only was the moon nowhere to be seen, they were trying to set out in heavy snowfall and howling winds. The waves rose high, and the boat was already rocking even in port. Their confidence was not based solely on the fact that everything would be fine simply because these were familiar seas they lived in. With their courage, they were indomitable sailors.

Col finally understood why the kingdom and Church were serious in their considerations about whether they should ally with the islanders. They were survivors and warriors who fought with the overpowering being that was the sea. Like jumping behind enemy lines under a rain of arrows, it was not an easy task to set sail at night on white-crested waves.

By giving money, the people could prepare ships.

But bravery was different.

“Sail!” someone yelled, and the oars slithered out from below.

They struck the dock violently—it seemed they all pushed off at once. The boat slowly parted from the pier, and this time it was the pier that made the ominous creaking noise.

After they had gone a certain distance, the oars on either side of the boat rose up into the air, then lowered into the sea in perfect unison. The boat began to move vigorously and parted from the docks.

On deck, without any cargo to serve as a barrier, they were exposed to the full brunt of the snow and wind. Yet Col did not feel the least bit cold as he gazed toward Caeson, the brightly lit church in the distance.

What had he come here to do?

That dizzying question seized his chest, and he could not breathe.

“It’s all right to throw up on deck if you get seasick, by the way.”

As the boat suddenly began to rock back and forth, Yosef spoke with a smile.

“If you lean over the edge, you’ll get sucked into the water. There are beasts that hide in the sea at night.”

Col did not take that as superstition or assumption; he believed it was real.

The sea on a moonless night was as dark as any nightmare. The occasional white waves reminded him that this was reality. Like a shivering child, the boat wavered back and forth and rocked wildly on occasion. The thumping impacts from below may have been the waves or a monster trying to pull its prey underwater.

Before long, the light in the church was a distant glow.

“Did you manage to talk to him?” Yosef asked, relaxed, thinking that if they had come this far, then they were all right.

At some point, he had produced a small wine cask in his hands.

“Well, yes…”

Col gave a vague reply, but it was glossed over in the darkness on the water.

“Good. That means Master Stefan will save face, too.”

He smiled and handed Col the cask. He took a sip, and it was bitter distilled liquor.

“Once we pass through this and slip into the waterways that lie between islands, the wind and waves will die down like magic. We just need to be patient.”

Reicher had said the same thing.

“Thank you so much.”

Col was grateful, wishing they would reach that point quicker.

“Leave it to me,” Yosef replied, puffing out his chest.

With brief pauses every time the boat rocked, the captain slowly made his way to the stern. Col looked around and found Myuri sitting at the base of the sail yard, wrapped in a blanket with her eyes closed. He only needed to take a few steps for his voice to reach her, but it felt like an eternity away.

Like turning away from his own wounds, he looked away from Myuri and out to sea. However, that did nothing to calm him. The sea had grown more fearsome since they left the port and reached the open water.

He had no idea if the growing wind was due to the speed of the boat or a signal that the blizzard had drawn near. The breaking waves disappeared with raging force behind them, and it was almost like they were hurtling down a river. He could no longer tell the flickering of light in his eyes from the glow of the church. How very much like faith that is, he thought.

As though his core had been spirited away, he could no longer feel the cold. He simply stared out over the water.

The boat would continue south, reach Atiph, then he would report what he had seen to Hyland. That was all Col could imagine. He could not see what would come after that.

He could not return to Nyohhira. Myuri would hate that. But he felt that staying by Hyland’s side would be too much for him. Whatever had resided within him was now gone.

Because he could not even believe in himself.

His mind empty, he watched the shapes of the foam on the waves as they broke on the sea. They looked like white birds soaring through the darkness while snakes slithered along the surface of the water. He saw a particularly large wave and thought it looked like an angel. Its wings were spread out on either side, ready to take flight.

He was annoyed with himself at first—that he would think such a thing—but he noticed something odd about it. Though the shape of the wave itself wavered, it did not disappear. Rather, it instead looked like it was growing bigger and bigger.

No, it was getting bigger.

That was no wave.

It was a boat!

“Mr. Yosef!”

He shouted as loud as he could, but that was when he finally realized that they were sailing on rough, wild seas. His voice barely reached his own ears, and the drops of ice felt like stones as they hit his face.

The boat rocked back and forth, and it shook feverishly whenever a wave struck them from below.

Col made his way to the stern of the boat with the other sailors, firmly planting his feet as he went, where Yosef stood gripping the helm, and raised his voice again.

“Mr. Yosef! A ship!”

Yosef grimaced—either from the cold, or from snow in his eyes, or because he had heard his foolish report. But there was no mistake. Col turned around again, and the angelic white ship’s trail was growing bigger.

“A ship! It’s coming closer!”

The boat rocked again, and after a brief sensation of floating, Col smashed into the deck. He desperately pulled himself up, and though Yosef and the others had of course managed to stay standing, they stared in shock at where he had pointed.

“Pirates!” Yosef yelled and let go of the helm, then jumped down the stairs leading below deck.

The speed of the oars immediately grew faster, but there was no way to tell how much faster they were going in the featureless darkness. And the pirate ship was tapered like a spear, prioritizing mobility.

On the other hand, they were aboard a mercantile boat—wide and stout.

He recalled how it felt when Autumn led him onto that swordlike boat.

It was catching up.

He could almost see the face of the angel of death.

“Mr. Col!”

He turned around when he heard Yosef yell. He was at the base of the sail yard, gripping Myuri’s arm.

Then he lost all sound again.

Following Yosef’s gestures, he turned back to the sea.

There it was—like a monster suddenly appearing out of the mist.

Like the long fish they had in the dining hall in Caeson, a pointed end closed in on them.

He recalled his leisurely conversation with Myuri:

“What we’ll do is crash into our bounty from the side; then, with our swords in our mouths, we’ll raise a battle cry and leap onto the other boat, right?”

He vaguely remembered his response as being “How would you be able to raise a war cry with a sword in your mouth?”

The tip of the pirate ship pierced the left side of their boat from below.

“”

He did not know if someone had yelled something to someone else or if it was his own cry.

When he realized it, he was in the darkness.

He could not tell up from down, and he had the sensation of struggling with his arms and legs, but it may have been his imagination. The smell of the oil she put in her hair gave him the sense that Myuri was nearby. Perhaps it was his own desires that made him hear, “Brother!”

Myuri.

The moment he thought that, he was greeted with an intense shock and could no longer breathe.

He had only realized he fell into the water when his body floated to the surface.

“Geugh, agh! Goch…”

He coughed, only for a wave to envelop his entire body with water again.

He found himself brimming with fear of not being able to breathe more than being afraid of the freezing cold.

His body was heavy, like he had fallen in mud, as the clothes that were meant to keep him warm soaked up water.

Desperately he moved his body and pulled his face from the water, inhaling deeply. Then he opened his eyes to see the side of the boat. It had not capsized, but some oars were missing. It was possible they had been thrown into the water on impact.

He looked up to the railing on deck, and he could not help but smile.

No matter how far up he stretched, he would never reach it.

And pushed by the waves, the boat was heartlessly drifting away. There was nothing around him; he would be left behind in the black seas.

That was when Col realized he would die here.

The cold began to drain the strength from his body. He had been taught what to do when someone fell into the river while hunting during the winters back in Nyohhira. It was simple: Warm the body by any means. Otherwise, they would lose feeling in their arms and legs within a hundred breaths, lose consciousness before the next hundred, and reach death without finishing the last one hundred. If he found someone in the river…He did not finish the thought because he understood there was no need for the rest.

That was because the sea was colder than any of the rivers in Nyohhira, and there was no way to pull himself up out of the water.

Not waiting for the next one hundred breaths, Col sank into the water. All the choices he had in life began to disappear.

As they vanished, he finally realized that there was only one thing left.

It was a short sentence, something akin to regret.

“I’m sorry.”

He should have said that to Myuri, even if she ignored or rejected him.

There must have been some air trapped in his heavy clothes, as even though he barely moved his arms and legs, he bobbed up to the surface at every wave like some sort of sick joke.

He only wanted to drown.

A sleepy surrender began to eat away at his body, and he closed his eyes.

He once heard that people dreamed as they died.

It seemed his was just beginning.

“Brother!”

From the stern of the boat that grew distant in his vision, Myuri jumped into the water.

He watched her and vacantly thought, Your clothes will get wet.

She hit the water with a splash.

It was only when he saw her head emerge above water and she began swimming desperately toward him that he understood he was seeing reality.

“Brother!”

“…Myu…Wh…why…?”

He could no longer speak. As though his back teeth had melded together, his jaw was stiff. His teeth were clenched together, and he could not move them.

Myuri was swimming in such thin clothes that he almost sighed; perhaps she had removed her bulky outer garments before jumping in.

He wanted to say, You’ll get sick.

“Brother, Brother!”

Her hands reached his face, and a particularly large wave washed over them.

He only reached the surface because Myuri held him as she swam.

“Wh-why…?”

Why had she jumped in? He questioned her with his eyes, and as though she had jumped into a lake in summer, she shook her head, water spraying from it.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

She clung to him, and she was so warm it almost made him sleepy.

“I would absolutely jump in after you if you fell into the cold, dark ocean. I would never leave you alone, and I would be fine at the bottom of the ocean as long as I’m with you.”

He looked at her, and her expression was twisted as though she was about to cry in happiness.

He thought absently about how much she loved him. Myuri truly believed in her feelings, and she would give her life for them. Even though he had done something so terrible to her.

He mustered all the strength he could in his stiffened body to return her embrace.

Though he could not murmur words of prayer to God, his mouth breathed his last words.

“Myu…ri…”

“Yeah?”

Her reddish eyes looked at him happily.

“I’m sorry…I was so terrible to you…”

Or perhaps, he dreamed he got the chance to say that.

The world went quiet, and his body no longer bobbed with the waves.

Just as he understood that he was sinking, he thought—

Where was the Black-Mother?

He was not speaking cynically of others’ faith but rather wishing for her to see him off.

He could not feel the cold of the sea.

His consciousness, too, quietly sank.