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◈ Paladin of a Ruined Order

Chapter 61

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Butter Knife

The results of the year-end vote were passed to the church that won the most seats, and it was customary for that church to record the election results on paper and distribute them to every church.

A church that gained seats would proudly post the voting results in front of its temple. The paper posted outside a temple was, in a sense, a badge of honor for any church seated within the council.

Errors had occurred in this process before, but there had never been outright fraud. If a published result diverged from the true facts, an oracle would come down from heaven immediately, demanding correction.

This year, as it had for decades, the Order of the Golden Tray was in charge of publishing the vote results.

But this year, one thing was different from an ordinary year. The moment the sun rose, a great many people came looking for Vice Bishop Heinz.

"Vice Bishop Heinz of the eastern diocese. Are you certain the published results are accurate?"

"Was there something strange about them?"

"Yes."

Oracles came down from heaven, but recording the results on paper was work done by people.

Since the whole process moved so quickly, small mistakes were sometimes found.

And this year had been unusually turbulent. The combat churches had made a sweeping advance across the board, hadn't they?

Nearly every combat church had either gained seats or held on to what it already had, while the non-combat churches had shown an overall decline.

The large churches could weather it well enough, but the small and mid-sized non-combat churches had taken a real hit. The person now standing before Vice Bishop Heinz was the archbishop of just such a church.

"I'm not here to complain that our Shattered Mirror church's seats dropped from two to one. No matter how I look at it, there's something abnormal here. For instance..."

The archbishop of the Shattered Mirror church spread out a paper and pointed to a spot tied for nineteenth place in seat count: the Order of the Rusted Shield.

Heinz said, "Didn't Sir Elbridge show remarkable skill in the fight against the black giant, on top of his performance at the Grand Festival?"

"I understand gaining seats. But the problem is the scale of the increase makes no sense. If the Goddess of the Rusted Shield had already held even one seat before this, I might have let it go."

A god who lost all seats and was pushed out of the council usually never returned, fading from people's memory entirely.

Occasionally a god did return, but even then, it was almost always with a single seat reclaimed.

"I've never once heard of a god being pushed out of the council and then returning straight to mid-tier standing by grabbing four seats at once."

"There being no precedent doesn't mean there's a law against it happening in the future."

"This is simply impossible, Vice Bishop Heinz. Whatever votes the Order of the Rusted Shield received would have come out of Solenion... If you work backward using the number of votes allotted to the east, the Order of the Rusted Shield couldn't possibly claim more than two seats. So where did the other two come from?"

"Hmm."

Vice Bishop Heinz hadn't thought that far himself.

"And there's something else strange. The God of the Iron Anvil, who reliably takes three or four seats every year, is missing from the list entirely..."

"Is that so?"

Vice Bishop Heinz was visibly flustered.

He had already thought the Order of the Rusted Shield's leap forward was odd, but he hadn't noticed that the God of the Iron Anvil was missing from the list.

"...This does look strange to me too, now that you mention it."

"Unless something unexpected happened and every dwarf died at once, or they all converted together, none of this makes any sense."

Of course, both possibilities were extremely unlikely. If anything, the former was the slightly more plausible of the two.

"If there's a problem with the published results, a new oracle should come down to every church before the day is out. Please wait a little longer."

"Yes. I'll leave it in your hands."

But no new oracle came down, even after the sun had set.

Once the new year began, Elbridge found himself buried in work without a moment to breathe.

All kinds of people came looking for the temple.

Simple onlookers, people wanting to join the church, representatives from other churches curious about the Order of the Rusted Shield...

Even invitations from nobles kept arriving one after another.

Elbridge politely declined most of them, but every so often, one came along that he couldn't refuse.

The invitation from the Lord of Solenion, for instance.

When Elbridge tried to decline that one too, Matilda offered some advice.

"Sir Elbridge. If you don't want to keep getting hounded by noble invitations, wouldn't it be better to accept the lord's, at least?"

Naturally, Elbridge wasn't thrilled by the suggestion.

"Out of every invitation I've received so far, this is the one I most want to turn down."

"The Marquis of Solenion is one of the most powerful people in the city. He's not as influential as the major churches, sure, but as long as our temple stands in Solenion, there's nothing to gain from refusing the lord's invitation. On the other hand, staying on good terms with him could pay off for a long time to come. Don't you want to expand your church's influence, Sir Elbridge?"

"Well, that's true, but..."

Matilda must have thought Elbridge's response wasn't enthusiastic enough, because she pressed on.

"And there's an even more important reason to accept this one."

"What's that?"

"The lord probably already knows you've turned down every noble invitation so far. If you accept his, he'll want to show off his standing, so he'll invite every other noble he can. You'd get to meet every noble who's already sent you an invitation, and every one who's planning to, all in one place."

"...If I have to take the beating eventually, better to take it all at once. Understood."

That conversation had taken place just a couple of days ago.

Today, Elbridge arrived at the lord's estate wearing what he considered his most presentable clothes.

But Elbridge's outfit wasn't quite up to the standard of the lord's exacting butler.

"Hmm... Good thing we have some time to spare. Would you come this way for a moment?"

That was how Elbridge ended up being fussed over by maidservants inside the lord's estate.

"You look wonderful in this!"

"..."

The maidservants dressed Elbridge and made a great fuss over him, but Elbridge felt like he was dying inside.

'I think I'd honestly be more comfortable in armor.'

Armor was heavy, but familiar. The particular tightness of formal wear around the neck and shoulders felt foreign to him.

Could he possibly manage friendly small talk with strangers in this state?

No. Impossible.

Elbridge followed the butler's guidance toward the banquet hall, forming a plan the way he might before a battle.

'There have to be at least a hundred people in that hall, judging by the noise. The music alone should keep most attention off me. If I stay quiet in a corner, not many people will notice me. Get my face in front of the lord as fast as I can, then slip out quietly. Tomorrow will be a lot easier after that.'

But the moment he stepped into the banquet hall, Elbridge realized his plan was fundamentally flawed.

Aside from Elbridge, nearly everyone in the hall already knew each other.

When a stranger stepped into a crowd like that, there was no way to avoid attention, no matter what he did. Especially not when that stranger happened to be the talk of the town.

Like a pack of monsters spotting defenseless prey, the nobles gathered around Elbridge with startling speed, all while looking perfectly natural about it.

"Aren't you Sir Elbridge?"

"I saw your fight against the demon. I already thought you were incredible at the Grand Festival, but this time, truly..."

"I heard your ancestor was the famous Silent Paladin. Is that true? Oh, forgive me, I'm from the House of Viscount Sion..."

All sorts of people struck up conversation in their own way, each introducing themselves. Baron of somewhere, eldest son of some viscount's house... Elbridge's head began to spin almost instantly.

Elbridge let the introductions wash past one ear and out the other, quietly repeating to himself.

'...Just get through today.'

After enduring that for a long while, the music grew louder and quicker.

As if on cue, the nobles all took a step back from Elbridge and began chatting among themselves.

'Finally free?'

Of course not. The moment Elbridge reclaimed his freedom, the butler approached and murmured to him.

"The lord is asking for you."

The change in music, it seemed, had been some kind of signal understood among the nobility.

Elbridge followed the butler to a private room. Inside was a large-framed, comfortably plump middle-aged man — the lord, whom he'd only glimpsed briefly upon first entering the hall.

Elbridge offered a simple bow of respect and said, "Elbridge, Paladin and Archbishop of the Order of the Rusted Shield."

"The Lord of Solenion. Marquis of Solenion."

The lord answered that way, and unlike the other nobles, extended his right hand for a handshake.

Elbridge reached out and took the lord's hand.

And then he realized something.

This was the hand of someone trained in the sword.

Elbridge murmured without meaning to, "...You were a knight."

At that, the lord, who had kept a dignified expression the entire time, broke into a smile full of warmth.

"You can tell that just from touching my hand?"

The lord's expression looked less like the foremost noble of the east and more like a young boy's.

There wasn't a trace of the practiced polish typical of nobles in that expression, and Elbridge felt himself relax a little more.

"Anyone who's trained with a sword would have recognized it. That's not the hand of someone who trained for a year or two."

"Then... could you tell how long I trained for?"

There was a hint of playfulness in the lord's voice.

Elbridge weighed the sensation left on his fingertips and said, "Judging by the state of your hand, it seems you haven't held a sword in at least ten years... So you must have trained somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five years."

"Exactly right. Ha! To think a hero like you would recognize my efforts. I'm grateful."

"Hero is too strong a word."

"No. Nobody would think it's too strong. What other paladin could show the kind of skill and courage you have? Ah, please, sit. I got so excited I kept my guest standing far too long."

The private room held a small table where two people could sit facing each other, and on the table sat a generous spread of simple food.

Elbridge's mouth watered on its own. Until now, he'd had to make conversation with nobles while catching only the smell of food from the banquet hall.

"No need to hold back, please eat comfortably. To be honest, I haven't had dinner yet either."

"Understood."

With the lord easing the mood, Elbridge found it easier to reach for the food himself.

The lord spoke while eating a piece of soft bread.

"Actually, I was away from Solenion briefly at year's end for personal business. It wasn't until the new year that I heard about the black giant, and about you. Just hearing the story made my blood boil."

"The credit belongs to the other paladins. The paladins of the Bloodstained Spear church in particular did remarkable work."

"Such modesty... Anyway, do you know what I thought when I first heard about what you did?"

"I don't."

"I thought, the Order of the Rusted Shield must have won four seats, and that must be why one of its paladins could show such incredible skill. That's what I assumed."

The lord took a sip of wine.

"But then I learned it happened not at the start of this year, but at the end of last year. That changes the story quite a bit. You subdued a demon while holding no seats at all, wielding only limited divine power."

"It wasn't me who subdued the demon. It was the paladins of the Bloodstained Spear church. A powerful Thrust Spear did the job."

"A chef bakes the bread, and I only pull it out of the oven. That doesn't make it my bread."

The lord said this while spreading butter over his soft bread.

"The reason the nobles sent you invitations was that they were curious what you'd show them next. You demonstrated that kind of power without a single seat behind you. Now that your church holds four, how much more impressive will your next feat be?"

"That's quite a weight to put on my shoulders."

"You've already shown what you can do. Expectations rising naturally follows, doesn't it?"

"Ha."

Elbridge laughed softly and popped a pastry from the tray into his mouth.

It looked plain enough, but it was far softer, crisper, and sweeter than anything he could buy in town.

It occurred to him, out of nowhere, that the Goddess would be quite pleased if he offered her one of these.

The Marquis of Solenion said, "Seems you like that pastry. I'll have the butler set some aside for you."

"I appreciate the kindness."

"Anyway... I grew curious about the Order of the Rusted Shield. A church I'd barely even heard the name of, suddenly claiming four seats out of nowhere. Anyone would find that strange. So I looked into it. They tell me you're its only paladin. High Paladin and Archbishop both..."

"It's simply a small, humble church."

The Marquis of Solenion pressed on regardless of Elbridge's answer.

"Honestly, it's strange for a church to have only a single paladin. Especially for a combat church. If something happened to its only paladin, there'd be no coming back from it, wouldn't there?"

Elbridge nodded silently and used a blunt butter knife to spread butter over his soft bread.

"So I got to thinking. Why wouldn't the Order of the Rusted Shield, or rather, the Goddess of the Rusted Shield herself, want another paladin? One absurd answer came to mind. But I decided to reconsider everything with that absurd answer as my starting point. And something strange happened."

"What strange thing?"

Elbridge answered while lifting the bread in his left hand to his mouth.

But the butter knife remained in his right hand the whole time.

"Why the cantankerous dwarf smith at the Magic Tower picks up an axe instead of a hammer whenever he's near you. Why you were able to fight a demon without a single seat to your name. Why you, appearing out of nowhere, could show such overwhelming skill at the Grand Festival. It all makes sense now."

Before Elbridge quite realized it, the butter knife was resting against the Marquis of Solenion's throat.

That the butter knife had no edge mattered very little to either Elbridge or the Marquis of Solenion. Elbridge was the kind of man who could kill a seasoned knight with his bare hands.

But the Marquis of Solenion kept his composure and said, "Hero. How did you come to return to this place, after leaping across two hundred years?"

Elbridge asked in return, "Who else knows this, besides you?"

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