WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Order

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◈ Paladin of a Ruined Order

Chapter 64

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Isalvius

Elbridge made up his mind.

'South. I'll go to the Lake of Eternity.'

Leaving Solenion's main temple empty didn't worry him.

Eastern Solenion had one of the highest concentrations of paladins anywhere on the continent, so even if a demon appeared again, they would manage the problem well enough. Quality aside, the numbers were certainly there.

Besides, paladins grew noticeably stronger every time they survived a fight against a demon.

Not many people had fought the demon directly in the last battle, but even watching a fight against a demon counted as major experience, and gave people motivation to train harder.

If a demon showed up in Solenion again, the paladins wouldn't be caught helpless the way they had before.

What actually bothered him was something else entirely.

'The clue the Master of the Central Magic Tower gave me. Would it be wise to pass that along to the goddess?'

The Master of the Central Magic Tower had quietly conveyed the message using magic.

That meant someone existed who wasn't supposed to hear that conversation.

Who exactly had the Master of the Central Magic Tower wanted to keep it from?

'Not Rombel or Marcus.'

The only people present had been Elbridge, Rombel, Marcus, and the Master of the Central Magic Tower.

Setting aside Elbridge and the Master of the Central Magic Tower, the two parties to the conversation, and setting aside Rombel and Marcus as well, there were still two beings who could have heard everything said there. The Goddess of the Rusted Shield, and the God of Fox Rain.

The Master of the Central Magic Tower must have wanted to keep those words from reaching those two divine beings.

'Sir Leonhardt's path touches something essential about heaven, they said.'

That thought only reinforced Elbridge's reasoning.

What god would be pleased to see a mortal being reach toward heaven's secrets?

The Goddess of the Rusted Shield herself had once said she couldn't speak about this.

'So why would the Master of the Central Magic Tower want to hide the conversation from those two gods specifically?'

The most likely reason was that it could bring harm to Elbridge or to the Master of the Central Magic Tower.

But he couldn't rule out the possibility that it might cause trouble for the Goddess of the Rusted Shield or the God of Fox Rain either. Even gods in heaven had rules they had to keep, didn't they?

'Whatever the reason, I might lose the chance to trace Sir Leonhardt's path.'

If that was true, there was only one thing Elbridge needed now.

'South. I need an excuse to head toward the Lake of Eternity.'

The problem was that Elbridge had no connection to the south whatsoever.

Even two hundred years ago, Elbridge had never once traveled south.

How could he come up with a believable excuse to go there?

Elbridge left the temple, still turning the problem over in his head.

Elbridge's feet carried him first to the Mercenary Guild.

If he could find just one substantial job heading south, he could travel there without drawing too much suspicion.

'No, wait. Back then it might have worked, but now, wouldn't it look strange for someone like me to be picking up a job like that?'

Ding.

Elbridge pushed open the door of the Mercenary Guild, and the little bell above it rang out clear.

The first thing that caught his eye was the mercenaries lounging on the long benches in slouched postures.

The mercenaries looked back at him too.

"···!"

In that instant, nearly every mercenary in the room straightened up.

Backs went ramrod straight, necks lifted. Not quite as disciplined as knights, but about as respectful a posture as a mercenary could manage.

Their eyes even held a fair amount of open admiration.

Mercenaries hated being tied down by discipline, but they respected skill.

And by their standards, Elbridge was more than skilled enough to earn that respect.

'···This is a bit much.'

Feeling somewhat awkward, Elbridge walked over and slowly read through the job postings pinned to the wall.

There were one or two requests heading toward central Middlemarch, but nothing heading south.

"Sir Elbridge. If you're here to leave a request, right this way."

He turned his head. A Mercenary Guild staff member was giving him an almost uncomfortably kind, bright smile.

Someone who clearly couldn't imagine Elbridge coming in to pick up a job for himself.

Elbridge answered with an awkward look, making something up on the spot.

"I'm not here to leave a request. I just came to see if Marcus was around."

"Ah, right. I heard you two were quite close."

"Yes. Well···."

The mercenaries lowered their voices, murmuring among themselves.

"That Marcus, what luck. Landed some ridiculous connection and now he's rising in the world all of a sudden···."

Whatever else was true, Elbridge understood well enough why Marcus wasn't at the Mercenary Guild anymore. Sharp as he was, Marcus had probably found the mercenaries' quiet envy uncomfortable to be around.

The guild staff member answered in that same bright voice.

"If Marcus stops by, I'll let him know to head to the Order of the Rusted Shield."

"···Yes. Understood. Thank you."

Elbridge left the Mercenary Guild.

'Where to now? Solenion's lord's castle? Or the Magic Tower?'

While Elbridge walked the streets deep in thought, a middle-aged priest in a cleric's robe approached him.

"Sir Elbridge, is that you? Sir Elbridge?"

The older priest looked almost excessively pleased.

So many people had approached him with goodwill since the battle against the demon that Elbridge intended to simply accept the greeting and move on.

But something about the priest's face struck him as oddly familiar. As though they'd crossed paths somewhere before.

Elbridge thought it over for half a beat, then remembered where he'd seen that face.

"···Order of the God of Flowing Water?"

The old priest brightened as if about to jump for joy.

"You remember!"

At the last Grand Festival, this was the man who had hired five paladins from other churches to compete. If not for this priest, Elbridge would never have had reason to enter the Grand Festival at all.

Except the priest's attitude was strange.

Back then, this priest and Elbridge had been on somewhat awkward terms.

Elbridge had ruined the Order of the God of Flowing Water's plan to beat the Order of Spring Rain and Moss at the Grand Festival and expand its influence into the east.

And yet here the priest was, greeting Elbridge with a warmth almost uncomfortable in its intensity.

'···Something's going on here.'

Elbridge was thinking about making his excuses to leave when a certain fact came back to him.

The Order of the God of Flowing Water's influence was concentrated in the southern region.

Without quite meaning to, Elbridge smiled even more warmly than usual.

"It's been a while, Father. Would you care to join me for tea at the temple?"

The elderly priest bore the rather old-fashioned name Isalvius.

Isalvius looked at least ten years older than he had the last time Elbridge had seen him.

And that was despite barely half a year having passed since the last Grand Festival.

Isalvius took a sip of the tea Elbridge had poured him, then spoke in a deeply anxious voice.

"Sir Elbridge. I know, I know full well how shameless this request is···. But I desperately need your help."

"Is my help specifically necessary here?"

"I asked the other combat churches in Solenion for help as well. Every single one turned me down."

The opening alone was interesting enough. Somehow it felt like the south really was calling to him.

Elbridge pulled his chair in a little and asked.

"Mr. Isalvius. Could I hear the situation in a bit more detail first?"

Isalvius nodded, then began to explain.

"The Order of the God of Flowing Water has kept its influence mainly in the southern continent. Not as strong as the Order of Spring Rain and Moss, but···. still, our footing in the south was fairly solid."

"Yes. I've heard as much."

A large church would naturally operate across many regions of the continent.

For instance, the Order of the Golden Tray and the Order of the Olive Tree held sway across the entire continent, while the Order of Spring Rain and Moss carried considerable influence spanning the east and north.

But churches with only one or two seats, or none at all, tended to concentrate on a single region. A matter of choosing where to focus.

Isalvius's voice sank a little lower.

"When the demonic beasts began increasing last spring or summer. The priests of our church thought our chance had finally come. More fighting naturally means more influence for the combat churches, doesn't it?"

"That's true."

"That was the thinking behind trying to expand our influence into the east as well. Though it failed···."

Elbridge answered firmly.

"I had no choice but to block that attempt. From long ago, the Order of the Rusted Shield has been the closest ally of the Order of Spring Rain and Moss."

A statement made with more than a little awareness that the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss might be listening in.

Isalvius let out a deep sigh.

"I understand. And it's nothing but a shame. Why didn't the Order of the God of Flowing Water have an ally like that, the way the Order of the Rusted Shield has···."

Judging by the mood, this didn't seem to be about the Grand Festival's outcome at all.

"What happened?"

"At first, things were good. The southern combat churches came to us, competing with each other to offer payment for our help. Since our numbers were limited and our divine power had its limits too, the Order of the God of Flowing Water tended to accept whichever church promised the greatest reward first."

A reasonable way to operate, but not a good thing to admit in front of an outsider.

When Elbridge's expression turned a little sour, Isalvius added a line.

"Of course, I don't mean we only chased payment. In truly urgent situations, we sent people regardless of the price. What matters is that we didn't have enough people or enough divine power to help every church."

"Yes. Please, go on."

"Wealth poured in, and with wealth came more believers. At that rate, it seemed like we might go beyond two or three seats and reclaim the influence we held in the distant past."

A natural progression.

Without a paladin bearing Healing Authority, a combat church's paladins couldn't perform at even half their real strength.

"Then a massive pack of demonic beasts struck the south. Everyone fought desperately. The losses were heavy, but somehow we drove them off. The problem was that the damage fell hardest on the churches that hadn't received our healing."

"···Don't tell me you demanded payment even in the middle of that chaos."

"No, it wasn't that. We simply helped the churches we already dealt with more often, the ones we were closer to. Surely that much is unavoidable."

Put another way, it meant the churches with fewer dealings had been left to fend for themselves.

Would anyone believe there'd been no money involved, given a situation like that?

No, did it even matter whether they believed it?

"The churches that suffered the heaviest losses grew furious. Each church started banding together and fighting on its own terms. Over the priests and paladins of the Order of the God of Flowing Water···. living trophies. A war broke out over us. Paladins who'd been laughing together as recently as last spring are now itching to kill each other."

Isalvius's expression alone made it easy to imagine how wretched the scene must have been.

Who in the world could have predicted that humans would start a war with demons and demonic beasts still out there?

"Our church's own wishes don't matter anymore. Our priests and paladins have been scattered here and there, reduced to something like slaves. Slaves dragged to battlefields to heal wounds. The church is on the verge of falling apart."

"···."

"I'm desperate for help. Please, rescue even one of those who were taken. I'll pay whatever price you ask."

A proposal any church would naturally refuse.

Traveling all the way to the distant south, getting caught up in a war between churches.

And the payment offered, for all it was worth, amounted to nothing more than an alliance with a one-seat church of uncertain use.

But Elbridge thought,

'I don't like this.'

It wasn't about the price.

The problem was how sickeningly familiar this whole situation felt to Elbridge.

In the days when the world had been at its most chaotic.

The only people who united without a single selfish thought were the ones at the very front lines, who wouldn't have been surprised to die that same evening.

The people in the rear, if anything, failed to unite at all.

Maybe it was only because they still had some room to spare that they had room enough to take sides.

Just then, Marcus wandered in, arms swinging.

"Sir Elbridge. Heard you were calling for me?"

Elbridge rose from his seat and answered.

"Pack your things. We're heading south."

"···I don't get a say in this, do I?"

Marcus's expression sank a little.

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