WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Order
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Chapter 166: Sophisticated Salesmanship
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'White hands.'
Elbridge had first learned about the white hands around this time last year.
They were people who waited until the final day of the year to decide which god to support, playing churches against one another to drive up their price.
The white hands had one goal: to secure as much compensation as possible before casting their vote.
At the time, Elbridge had asked the major churches not to make deals with the white hands. The large churches, including the Order of the Golden Tray, accepted the proposal, and the matter came to an end.
The representatives of the white hands had likely failed to earn a single coin, or received far less money than they had expected.
In a way, Elbridge had put the white hands in a difficult position.
Everyone around them had openly shown their disgust toward the white hands, so Elbridge had believed there would be no problem ending things that way. The people had even found the incident satisfying.
Yet over the course of the year, Elbridge had lost confidence in his actions.
'Was that really the right thing to do?'
Elbridge offered a quiet prayer.
"Goddess."
- I am listening, Elbridge.
"Was what I did to the white hands last year the right thing?"
- That... I do not know.
Even the Goddess of the Rusted Shield could not give him a clear answer.
The limping man pushed through the crowd.
He left central Solenion and headed toward the outskirts, where the number of people on the streets gradually dwindled.
Elbridge followed behind him, lost in thought.
'Come to think of it, his leg did not seem to trouble him before... Why is he limping?'
Elbridge was not the only one wondering. People nearby often stopped and stared at the limping man as though he were something unusual.
The reason for their reaction was simple. People who limped were rare.
Unless it was a special condition that even divine power could not heal, people did not live with acquired disabilities. That was especially true of disabilities that caused as much inconvenience as a limp.
Once someone had been granted Healing Authority, overcoming a disability was not difficult. Why would anyone choose to live in an uncomfortable body?
'Did the Order of Spring Rain and Moss demand an excessive fee for treatment? That can't be it...'
The Order of Spring Rain and Moss had always been financially well-off, so it was not stingy with patients.
Even if the Order had demanded an enormous sum, there was no reason for him to still be limping. He could receive treatment first and repay the debt over time. The Order of Spring Rain and Moss had offered deferred payment plans even two hundred years ago.
Elbridge had been deep in thought for quite some time when the limping man stopped.
"You there, stop hiding and come out."
Oh no. He must have failed to conceal his presence completely while thinking.
Elbridge awkwardly revealed himself.
"Your senses are sharp."
"Being subjected to people's stares has made them that way."
Elbridge looked at the limping man with conflicted feelings, while the man's expression as he looked at Elbridge was equally subtle.
There was no hostility in it. If anything, slight discomfort was the closest description.
"Why is a famous Paladin following me?"
"That... I don't know exactly myself."
"I see."
The limping man nodded and started walking again.
There was no point hiding now, so Elbridge walked beside him. Accompanying him felt more comfortable than tailing him.
After they had walked for a while, the limping man spoke.
"You can call me Hands."
Hands, one of the white hands. It was almost certainly an alias or nickname.
Still, Elbridge introduced himself as well.
"I'm Elbridge. Elbridge of the Order of the Rusted Shield."
"I know. I also know that Sir Elbridge was the one who ruined last year's negotiations."
Elbridge flinched. Just when he had thought things would be more comfortable, it felt as though he had sat on a bed of thorns.
"...How did you know?"
"I know people. There are far more white hands than Sir Elbridge thinks."
Elbridge thought for a moment before speaking.
"Mr. Hands. There's something else I'd like to ask."
"Go ahead."
"Was your leg injured because of me?"
On the evening of the last day of last year, Elbridge had seen the white hands drag their representatives, the people responsible for negotiating with each church, into a back alley.
Hands must have been dragged there as well. He must have been beaten.
"It isn't unrelated, but I have no intention of blaming Sir Elbridge."
Their conversation briefly stopped.
After a moment, Hands asked him a question.
"Sir Elbridge. Do you think the white hands are trash?"
"...To be honest, I did back then."
Hands' expression brightened slightly. That meant Elbridge's thoughts had changed now, didn't it?
Elbridge continued.
"But after giving it some thought, I began to wonder if there might not be much difference between the white hands and other churches. Unlike two hundred years ago... No. I spoke carelessly."
When Elbridge trailed off, Hands gave a faint smile.
"I won't repeat this to anyone, so you needn't worry. There is no one nearby, either."
It did not seem like a lie.
Elbridge relaxed a little and continued.
"...Thank you. In any case, from the perspective of someone from the past, what the white hands did was absurd. Trading faith for money. But watching the other churches changed my mind. Their behavior was not all that different from the white hands'."
Scrape, scrape.
Elbridge dragged his heels slightly as he walked. Was it because he wanted to hide the shame in his voice, or because his steps felt heavy?
"The other churches also offered compensation to draw in believers. Ordinary people wanted compensation as well. There is only one difference between the white hands and everyone else. The white hands tried to negotiate a little more actively than others."
It was a world where pure faith had become difficult to find, unlike in the past.
Everyone was trading faith. It was only a matter of degree.
"At first, I thought the act of trading faith itself was the problem. But even that thought gradually changed. People do not trade faith because they are selfish. The current world simply leads them to do so. Can it be entirely people's fault that they move as the world leads them?"
As he spoke, Elbridge belatedly realized something.
Perhaps he had followed Hands not out of curiosity, but guilt.
Hands laughed.
"Ha ha!"
"Why are you laughing?"
"I thought Sir Elbridge was rigid and impossible to reason with. But seeing you now... I think I was mistaken."
"Did I seem that way to you?"
"Yes. Like other famous people, I thought Sir Elbridge would never change his mind."
"I see."
Hands was still limping, but his steps had grown a little lighter.
"Thank you for understanding my position. Still, I do not believe I am without fault. Sir Elbridge, do you know what white hands originally meant?"
"If someone declares support for a specific god, that church's mark remains on the back of their hand until the end of the year. Those who do not declare support until the end, leaving no mark on their hands, are called white hands..."
"That is what people commonly believe. But Sir Elbridge, that was not the meaning of the first white hands."
"Then what did it mean?"
Hands answered Elbridge's question calmly.
"It is an easy metaphor. White means goodwill. A hand means help. In other words, they were called white hands because they extended a helping hand in goodwill. These days, it is used as an insult, but it was not an insult over a hundred years ago."
Elbridge realized something belatedly.
The expression white hands sounded far too positive.
"What kind of help did they provide?"
"When a fallen god wished to rise again, they would fill the church's numbers so the god could exercise at least a minimum of divine power. Having no believers and having even a small number of believers are completely different things. The white hands wished to serve as the spark that started the fire."
"Ah..."
So that was what it meant.
Elbridge could easily understand how great that help was.
When he had first been released from the seal, rebuilding an Order without believers had felt impossibly daunting. If he had received help from people like them, it would have been an enormous source of strength.
"In effect, the white hands gave up the help and divine power of gods. Knowing that was a difficult choice, gods and church members would offer small tokens of gratitude. But now the order has been reversed. Faith has become something traded for compensation."
Hands seemed tired from walking, so he sat down on a small box by the roadside. Elbridge sat beside him.
"Last year, when people beat me and broke my leg, I resented the world. I was furious at Sir Elbridge too. Furious enough to want revenge somehow. But as time passed, my thoughts changed. I wondered if Sir Elbridge, an old hero, had been teaching me a lesson..."
Elbridge felt ashamed. He had not done those things for such a noble reason.
Hands stretched out his leg. His right leg was slightly bent.
"So I decided not to treat it. Whenever I move this leg, I reflect on my mistakes. I remember the white hands from before they changed. I may walk with a limp, but I will not lose sight of my destination from now on. Starting next year."
Starting next year? That meant not this year, Elbridge thought.
Still, he did not press the issue. There was no need to spoil the mood.
The Goddess of the Rusted Shield was impressed as well.
- Reflection is not easy. This young man called Hands is truly admirable.
Perhaps because she understood the pain of a god without believers better than anyone, the Goddess of the Rusted Shield seemed genuinely moved by Hands' story. Elbridge felt the same.
- Elbridge. Tell him how he may wash away his mistakes.
Elbridge lowered his voice and offered a quiet prayer.
"Goddess. How can Hands wash away his mistakes?"
- Is there not a god right here who endured more than a hundred years without believers? If they come to your goddess's temple even now and fulfill the duty they neglected for so long, your goddess would very gladly forgive them...
"..."
The oracle was transparent.
Did she not simply want Hands to bring the white hands in and fill the Order's numbers?
Until autumn, the Goddess of the Rusted Shield had remained quite composed about the heavenly seats. Yet as the end of the year approached, she had become quietly obsessed with them.
Elbridge answered with reluctance.
"Goddess. I once said this in front of people. A Paladin does not fight because they are promised something. They must be promised something because they fight. Increasing believers through a transaction is a little..."
The Goddess of the Rusted Shield hurriedly defended herself.
- Elbridge. I swear this oracle does not come from your goddess's greed. I only wished to grant my precious Paladin even a little more strength in this dangerous world.
Perhaps because Elbridge still seemed reluctant, the Goddess gave an oracle as though she had half given up.
- Yes. Bringing up such a matter so late would not be very dignified. Then at least satisfy your goddess's curiosity.
"What are you curious about?"
- I am curious how many people remain among the white hands. They suffered greatly last year, so their situation this year cannot be very good.
That was not difficult.
When Elbridge asked about the white hands' circumstances, Hands spoke bitterly.
"That is correct. Many left after last year's incident. In the past, the white hands could influence at least four or five seats, perhaps as many as six. But it is different now. This year, we estimate the white hands' influence at around two and a half seats."
"I see."
The atmosphere made it seem as though Elbridge ought to apologize.
Yet Hands spoke in a hopeful voice.
"Our numbers have fallen to half or less, but I see this as an opportunity. Doesn't that mean the organization has become leaner?"
"It is an opportunity to return to your original purpose."
"Exactly. Unlike before, when we had to be selective about our clients, we can also move more quickly toward churches that need our help."
Elbridge nodded without thinking, then felt something was off.
The direction of the conversation was strange.
Looking to the side, he saw Hands wearing a serious expression.
"Half the seats, but only half of half the price. Interest-free installments are available as well. This is your last chance this year."
"..."
It seemed their sales strategy had simply changed.
But who would fall for this unless they were a fool? Elbridge silently rose from his seat.
Then an urgent oracle rang in his ears.
- Elbridge. This is a golden opportunity. If you accept Hands' proposal, your goddess could have eight or nine seats... If fortune favors us, perhaps even ten. With ten seats, your goddess could be recognized as a Great Divinity in both name and reality...
For the first time in a very long while, Elbridge ignored the Goddess's oracle.
* * *
Three days later.
Matilda spoke to Elbridge with a somewhat surprised expression.
"Oh my, didn't the Archbishop agree as well? The Goddess gave an oracle, so I naturally assumed the Archbishop had..."
Elbridge prayed in confusion.
"Goddess?"
But no oracle came in response. He could only sense the Goddess's subtle presence.
- ...
The Goddess of the Rusted Shield had fallen for Hands' sales pitch.
Footnotes:
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