WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 633: Teaching Black Magic in Church

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The northern sky was vast and desolate, so long as the floating castle did not descend.

When the cold earth held every drop of water in place, even the clouds and fog settled into silence. Weather was the whim of the Celestial God, but on land this cold, even the urge to be whimsical seemed to shrivel away. The Celestial God must be a man too, since the cold made things shrink.

Still, instead of the occasional blizzard or storm, an artificial phenomenon called the floating castle descended. It was the mages' unruly occupation of the sacred space known as the sky for nearly a month.

And people tended to cheer when someone caused trouble for stale authority. Where the heart of Celsius territory met the floating castle, this year's descent site was overflowing with life.

But.

Far from there, in lands where the floating castle was as distant as the moon, none of that mattered.

"Housekeeper. Is this the Outcast district?"

"Yes. This is where that child was headed. It's also where I had to make that long, exhausting trip back and forth."

The housekeeper answered with a grumble. I didn't care how she felt, but I could admit she'd worked hard.

The Kelvin River cut across Celsius territory. Its surface was frozen solid thanks to Celsius territory's altered freezing point, making it no different from land. But cold seeped up through the icy ground, and the snow melted in summer, so no one could build a home and live there. It was a terrible place to settle.

On that unlivable ice, the Outcasts built portable shacks and survived day by day through ice fishing.

There were over two hundred visible shacks. Along the riverbank stood hundreds of igloos made by stacking cut blocks of ice.

It was an Outcast settlement, inhabited by people who had survived by adapting to this environment without knowing magic or possessing any decent magitech devices.

"Lead the way."

"Where to?"

"To that child's home."

"How would I know where that is?"

"What? You followed him, but you didn't find out where he lived, what his family situation was, or what condition he was in? What exactly do you do all day?"

"Am I some kind of stalker?! Why would I need to find that out?!"

You are a stalker, though... Hm.

The housekeeper sharply turned away and took the lead.

"I'm only a housekeeper sent out on an errand!"

"You said you returned the shoes."

"I left them with someone who would know! Come on. I'll take you to the person I left them with."

Growing fierce, the housekeeper led me toward a building with a large cross hanging from it.

It was a church suited to the north. Clear ice stood in for glass in the windows, and the towering cross shattered the northern sunlight into brilliant fragments.

"We have visitors."

When we entered, a missionary in a black priest's robe greeted us with a smile.

"Ah, you're the kind person who brought Richard's shoes back the other day. Richard was grateful too."

"Was he really?"

"He didn't say it, but I'm sure he was grateful deep down."

Casas continued speaking with the housekeeper, wearing a pleasant expression. Befitting someone responsible for a place this remote, the priest seemed detached from worldly concerns and modest.

After finishing the conversation with the housekeeper, the priest recognized me as well.

"So you're the mage who came down from the floating castle and has been teaching children. Even while busy uncovering the mysteries of magic, you offer instruction. The Celestial God will surely bless your path."

It seemed my reputation had spread this far.

"I'm Hughes. And you are?"

"I'm Casas, a missionary of the Celsius Diocese, affiliated with the Eastern Missionary Society."

The missionary placed a hand over the closed Bible.

Missionaries. Believers of the Eastern Missionary Society who went to barbaric lands to offer knowledge and teachings, to "civilize" the people there. They voluntarily went to places completely cut off from the world, continually throwing themselves into hardship...

They were utterly insane.

It was a faraway barbaric land. There was no telling what dangers awaited. Most people were wary of outsiders, and if that outsider suddenly started meddling in their affairs and nagging them, they would naturally find it irritating. A ruler of the land would feel fear and unease toward a missionary preaching an unfamiliar civilization.

Those feelings could turn to hostility at any time and take a missionary's life. Their homeland was far away, with no one to help them. If things went badly, they would be wiped out without even leaving their names in a single line of history. Nothing mourned their deaths except an X drawn beside their names on the Eastern Missionary Society's old roster.

Yet this mad person, who had willingly thrown themselves into endless hardship, smiled kindly and spoke in a friendly tone.

"I heard you said some harsh things to Richard. It was difficult soothing the child as he cried all night."

"I didn't think I was particularly harsh."

"I told Richard the same thing. No matter how harsh words may be, how could they compare to cold reality? Telling someone about reality in advance, that too must have been your kindness, Mr. Hughes."

Kindness? I'd only spoken the truth.

"Knowledge is a curse that drives people into unending pain, while ignorance is a sweet sleep that gently covers us. We call one life and the other death. I told Richard that you wanted the child to live on in knowledge, Mr. Hughes."

"Oh..."

I realized it as we spoke. Missionaries really were insane. How could someone find goodwill in words that cold? It would be easier to pan for gold in a river.

"And that fact was proven by your coming here, Mr. Hughes."

"What do you mean?"

"If you were truly heartless, those words wouldn't have weighed on your mind enough for you to come here."

They were a good person, really. That was probably why they'd become a missionary, teaching letters and knowledge to the Outcasts of Celsius territory.

It suited me fine if they thought well of me. They wouldn't resist what I was about to do.

Without adding or taking away a single word, I looked around while keeping my coat on.

"May I borrow this place for a while?"

"Of course. The missionary society has always served as a place of education as well. It may sound irreverent, but in the Celsius Diocese, education takes priority and worship comes second. We teach people to learn God's word, yet they only learn their letters and leave for other academies. Ha ha."

I looked around. Long wooden benches stood at regular intervals, each one's backrest usable as a desk for the bench behind it. Uneven handwriting densely covered them. The church had been kept clean, but traces of study remained everywhere.

"Richard seemed able to read. So this was where he learned. Don't you teach magic?"

The missionary let out a hearty laugh.

"Ha ha. You're teasing me. How could a church teach magic?"

"Why not?"

"Are you truly asking because you don't know?"

Uh, why? Was it wrong not to know? Had I made a mistake asking that here? Did I sound too ignorant?

"...Well, the old conflict between the Arcane Federation and the Eastern Missionary Society wouldn't be a subject that interested someone as accomplished as you, Mr. Hughes."

"I can learn about it while I'm visiting the missionary society."

"That is true as well. Knowledge is more important when it is drawn out than when it is stored away. Even my old knowledge must have been gathered so I could draw it out at a moment like this. Then let me explain."

After waiting for the housekeeper and me to sit down, the missionary opened the Bible and spoke.

"Long ago, a group of refugees settled in this bitterly cold northern land. Only a small number of natives lived here, and because they could survive this harsh environment only by cooperating rather than fighting, there was no trouble with the settlement itself. Survival, however, remained a challenge. Every winter, they had to bury those who froze to death."

"When the Eastern Missionary Society heard of this difficult situation, it sent missionaries here over several expeditions. The missionaries established mission houses throughout the north and carried out missionary and relief work among the natives and refugees. Most of all, they devoted themselves to gathering and organizing ways to survive this cold."

"The natives had their own know-how for surviving on this land, but their knowledge was fragmented and habitual, making it difficult to uncover. The missionary society spent a long time interacting with them, recording and organizing methods of survival in this harsh land. Settlers came to the mission houses to learn how to survive. The missionary society even built large buildings, let them stay in rooms for years at a time, and taught them until they could survive."

So there was that kind of history. Well, the Arcane Federation couldn't have wielded magic from the beginning either... Wait. This structure felt strangely familiar.

"It sounds as if the missionary society was the predecessor of the magic towers."

At my question, which pierced the heart of the matter, the missionary briefly closed their eyes before opening them again.

"...It is said that, at the time, the missionary society's influence in this region reached the heavens. It was comparable to the magic towers of today. The society's help was essential to survive on this land. Yet it did not forget its original duty. It brought natives and settlers together, sharing knowledge with both. But there was knowledge the society did not share, knowledge it concealed."

Well, following this flow, there was only one possible answer. The missionary spoke.

"That was magic. Rune sorcery passed down in the deep north, the spells natives used by burning animal fat, prayer knots that held spirits in place. They wove all that knowledge together into magic, but feared its power and kept it hidden, sharing it only among missionaries."

"The missionary society was the origin of magic?"

"According to our records, yes. The Arcane Federation would not acknowledge it, of course."

The missionary made the sign of the cross and continued.

"Until Saint Rene drew the map, conflict arose between the missionary society and the mages. But knowledge is like the wind. No matter how tightly you try to confine it, it always slips out. In the end, magic was revealed to the world, and people no longer depended on the missionary society."

After hearing the whole story, I gave a short impression.

"You brought it on yourselves."

"I thought you might say that. It isn't wrong."

The missionary nodded bitterly and continued.

"Magic is a powerful force, and therefore a dangerous one. But in a land this harsh, people need such power to survive. If knowledge can save more people, that too must be something the Holy Maiden watches over."

"That's quite a progressive attitude for a priest."

"Death is always the most terrible tragedy. The more often one encounters it, the more deeply one realizes that truth. What could a missionary in the Arcane Federation possibly refuse to teach?"

"Either way, I understand now. I'll remember it."

Magic had originated with missionaries. That was unexpected. I hadn't studied the history of magic in much depth at the floating castle.

It wasn't a lie, and there was little chance they were mistaken. It was already known that the Arcane Federation was reclaimed land, and between refugees and missionaries, anyone could see which group was more learned. The missionaries must have been the original center of power and knowledge.

As we spoke, the church door opened. It was the Outcast who had infiltrated the academy. The child shut the door with practiced ease, walked inside, and spoke.

"Father. You called for me?"

"Richard. Come here. An honored guest has come looking for you."

"...!"

The Outcast flinched in fear upon seeing me. He was being awfully dramatic over one harsh comment. This level of verbal abuse was common in the military state, you know?

I let my coat flutter as I spoke to the Outcast.

"I came to make you an offer. You said you wanted to learn magic."

'Richard is a talented child. The environment has kept the child from receiving a proper education, but if an exceptional mage took Richard in and taught him, Richard could surely accomplish great things.'

The missionary looked on with a pleased expression. They did good work, and they were a good person.

It was a pity I had to betray the expectations of someone like that.

With pure goodwill, I held out my hand to the Outcast.

"Would you like to learn standard-issue magic?"

Footnotes:

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