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Translator/Editor: Order

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◈ Paladin of a Ruined Order

Chapter 80

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By-election

Now that they had confirmed someone broke the seal, it was time to find out who they were.

And there was only one place their clues might be. The space adjoining the stone chamber.

Elbridge thought of two ways to cross over to the stone chamber on the other side.

First, tear down the wall carved with the mana circuit.

Second, find an entrance leading to the passage on the other side.

Rombel chose the second option, as if it were obvious.

"What if we tear down the wall and the collapse spreads over here too? Let's look for the entrance on the other side."

The three of them went up to the surface right away and searched the area.

Before a cup of tea's worth of time had even passed, Rombel found a spot he guessed was the entrance to the passage.

"Direction and location seem about right... I think this is it."

But to Elbridge's eyes, there was nothing that looked like a space a person could enter. Just a small depression in the ground.

"This is the entrance?"

"Yeah. They used it and then caved it in. See, the support post is sticking out here."

Rombel tapped a corner of the sunken ground with his short leg.

A piece of wood, thicker than an adult's forearm, jutted out there.

"I see. Now the problem is how we get into a collapsed entrance..."

"Caving in the entrance doesn't mean the whole inside collapsed. Especially not with a support post still there. Wait a second."

Rombel unpacked his gear. True to a dwarf, it was full of every kind of tool.

Wooden handles that could be fitted with different attachments. Hammer heads, small saws, that sort of thing. Among them was a collapsible shovel.

'...Doesn't it get heavy, carrying all that around?'

Rombel assembled the shovel in an instant, then started digging without asking Elbridge or Marcus for help. It seemed to bother him a little that Marcus had been the only one getting to do anything useful.

Chunk, chunk, chunk.

Rombel's digging speed was terrifyingly fast. Fast enough to impress both Elbridge and Marcus.

"Now I get how dwarves carved cities out of mountains..."

It didn't take long before an uncollapsed space came into view.

The support beams holding up the top and sides looked sound. No danger of a cave-in.

But a foul stench drifted out from inside.

"That smell..."

None of the three failed to recognize it.

After ten-some steps down the passage, three rotted corpses came into view. Not fully skeletal yet, but decomposed enough that they weren't pleasant to look at.

"Silenced."

Elbridge and the others looked around the small dugout.

No particular clues in sight. Not that anyone would leave a special clue in a dugout, anyway.

Naturally, their attention turned to the bodies.

Whoever silenced them had stripped away anything that could identify the corpses, so there was almost nothing left. At best, the clothes they wore, and even those weren't intact. Some parts looked deliberately cut or torn away.

Still, there were a few clues left to guess at their identities.

"Cowhide shoes."

The wealthy wore shoes of soft calfskin, deerskin, or lambskin. The poor favored cheap goatskin shoes that wore out fast.

And shoes made from full-grown cowhide sat somewhere in between. Not a rich household, but not one struggling either, it seemed.

"Thick clothes. Looks like they died in winter or early spring."

Elbridge had been freed from the seal last spring, so the timing lined up roughly.

But nothing else stood out. While Elbridge and Rombel were debating whether they'd have to examine the decomposed bodies themselves, Marcus pulled out a pocketknife and tore open the corpses' shirts.

"What are you doing?"

"Winter clothes often have separate linings sewn in. And... while they're at it, people sometimes stitch their church's emblem into the lining too."

In the lining Marcus cut open, right where it would sit against the heart, there were traces of an old patch of cloth stitched in.

Worn, and blurred further by the corpse's decay. But the emblem was still recognizable.

"Order of the God of the Brass Cup."

A small-to-mid-sized church that steadily held onto its seats.

It was also a church of exactly the right size to trace. If a church's scale got too big, like the Order of the Golden Tray, it became hard to pin down who the victim was.

"We should look for a nearby village."

The God of the Brass Cup symbolized community, frugality, and travelers.

The victim was more likely to be from a small village than a big city like Solenion.

"Marcus. Any village nearby that you know?"

"There's a few places I've passed through on jobs... I have a guess. Let's go check it out first."

The three of them walked the forest path in silence.

Elbridge and Marcus, each lost in their own thoughts, didn't speak.

Unable to bear the long stretch of silence, Rombel eventually spoke up to Elbridge.

"Elbridge. What are you thinking about?"

"If someone broke the seal, that means breaking it got them something. Some kind of gain."

"I'd guess so."

"What gain could they possibly have been after?"

Rombel thought for a moment before answering.

"Maybe there was a demon worshipper or something. Those types get happy just from being able to release a demon."

"Where would you even find a demon worshipper these days? Besides, until not long ago, most people in the east didn't even believe demons existed."

"Then, what, tomb raiders."

Elbridge shook his head.

"No. Whoever did this wasn't some amateur. They knew exactly how to break the seal. And the fact that they didn't come in through the stone chamber but dug a separate tunnel instead... that means they had some idea of my condition. If they came through the stone chamber, they knew I'd notice, so they took the back way."

"That's pretty sharp, for you."

Rombel had a habit of tacking on needless remarks that earned him a beating.

Elbridge turned to look at him, and Rombel naturally slipped into a defensive stance.

Elbridge wasn't in the mood to mess around, so he turned his head away without punishing Rombel. Not that he lacked confidence he could break through the guard.

"Rombel. Who would benefit from letting a demon loose on the world?"

"Plenty of people. Someone who wants to wreck this region, some idiot who thinks a demon will hand out treasure if you free it, someone who just wants to see the world burn..."

"A little more realistically."

"Elbridge. Want me to tell you something fun?"

"What?"

"Actually, I know exactly who'd benefit most from breaking that seal. I know which group would gain the most, too."

"Who?"

"You. And your church."

Elbridge raised a fist on reflex, then stopped his hand.

Because he realized Rombel's guess wasn't a simple joke.

Elbridge's own gain didn't need explaining.

And the Order of the Rusted Shield's gain was just as clear. Less than a year after Elbridge was freed from the seal, the Order of the Rusted Shield, which hadn't held a single seat, had reclaimed four. Anyone would find that suspicious. Almost like they'd broken the seal after making every preparation in advance.

Elbridge's voice dropped low.

"Rombel. You think I broke the seal myself?"

"No. But when you first showed up and said the seal had broken, the first one I suspected was your goddess."

Crack!

Something like an explosion rang out, and a bolt of lightning fell from a clear sky.

The bolt struck a spot a short distance from the group.

- Elbridge! That foolish dwarf is spouting nonsense! Your goddess was overjoyed to have her one and only paladin back, that much is true, but she is no fool who would throw the world into chaos over personal feelings!

The Goddess of the Rusted Shield delivered an oracle, thoroughly worked up.

This oracle wasn't even the kind that whispered only in Elbridge's ear. This time it was a public oracle, the goddess's voice ringing out from the sky itself.

Rombel immediately dropped to his knees and pleaded with the Goddess of the Rusted Shield.

"Of course! That was only a momentary suspicion. I fought alongside the paladins of the Order of the Rusted Shield several times two hundred years ago, so I quickly realized the Goddess of the Rusted Shield firmly rejects demons!"

- ...

"Also, the very fact that I can say this now means I've completely shaken off every suspicion. If even a shred of doubt remained in my heart, would I dare say such a thing in front of the goddess's one and only paladin?"

Thanks to Rombel's reckless mouth, innocent Marcus ended up kneeling and trembling right along with him.

The Goddess of the Rusted Shield delivered her oracle in a voice even more solemn than usual.

- Never doubt me again. Dwarf Rombel.

"Of course not, Goddess!"

Once the goddess's presence faded, Rombel got up and muttered under his breath.

"...Whoa, she was listening to that."

Another bolt of lightning struck at once. Crack!

Rombel dropped back to his knees immediately.

"Ah, this cursed mouth of mine! I, Rombel, never doubted the Goddess for a moment! Back then she had not a single believer, so how could the Goddess have dug a tunnel and broken the seal herself? If there is any god in heaven who is purely innocent, it would be the Goddess of the Rusted Shield!"

There had been no malice in Rombel's words.

But Elbridge suspected the goddess had gotten her feelings hurt a little. The Goddess of the Rusted Shield considered the era when she had no believers at all to be her dark age.

- ...Fine. Watch your words from now on, Rombel.

"Understood!"

The Goddess of the Rusted Shield delivered her final oracle in a voice trying hard to sound composed, but she would surely go complain to the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss about it later today.

Elbridge decided he should offer up some good beer as soon as possible to soothe the goddess's feelings.

Thanks to the two lightning bolts, the discussion couldn't continue.

Following Marcus, they arrived at a small village of maybe a hundred people.

Despite its small size, carriages and carts sat here and there, and there was even an inn with a decent stable and storehouse attached.

Marcus explained why they'd come to this village.

"This village makes its living off passing merchants, laborers, mercenaries, and travelers. Mercenaries looking for work show up here sometimes too... It's one of the few villages close to that stone chamber where you can easily hire people. There might be a connection between the village and the bodies."

The three of them headed for the inn.

Since the Order of the God of the Brass Cup symbolized travelers, plenty of innkeepers followed the God of the Brass Cup. On top of that, Elbridge and the others needed a place to stay anyway.

Then Marcus spotted an interesting piece of paper outside the inn.

"A by-election... never seen one of these before."

It was a notice announcing a by-election to fill a vacant seat on the Heavenly Council.

Almost certainly the seat left empty after the God of Flowing Water's fall.

"...Nothing to do with us. It's a vacancy from the south, so the south will fill it."

Rombel said that and walked into the inn.

He locked eyes with the gruff-looking innkeeper right away.

Even with three customers walking in, the innkeeper looked a little disappointed.

Elbridge looked around the inside of the inn.

Plenty of merchants and laborers eating dinner, and several people drinking.

The three of them sat at a long table facing the innkeeper.

The innkeeper glanced toward the door, then asked.

"Meal?"

"Meal and a room, both. One room's fine."

"Good. I'll tally the food with the room charge when you go up."

The innkeeper gestured toward the kitchen.

Since he hadn't asked what they wanted to eat, the menu was apparently already decided.

Elbridge looked over at the other tables.

People were eating steamed potatoes and turnip stew, cheese pieces, and brown bread.

Marcus slid some coins to the innkeeper.

"A beer each too, please. By the way, innkeeper, which god do you serve?"

"Me? I follow the God of the Brass Cup."

"Any believers of the Order of the God of the Brass Cup around here who've gone missing lately?"

The innkeeper answered.

"My wife and I are the only ones in this village who believe in the God of the Brass Cup."

"I see."

Guess it wasn't this village after all, Elbridge was thinking, when the innkeeper set down the beer and food and added one more line.

"That's how it's been since my son left."

The group's expressions stiffened slightly. The innkeeper noticed.

"Not to your liking? There's no other menu."

"Ah... it's not that the food's no good. Just reminded me of something. I'm a mercenary too, you see."

Marcus smoothed it over, and the innkeeper kept talking.

"He used to go on and on about how he didn't want to spend his whole life running an inn... then a friend brought him word of a job, and off he went. Always had his ear turned to mercenaries' big talk, and I guess he caught the bug."

"Turning down a good thing to go rough it somewhere else, that's common enough. When did your son leave, roughly?"

"Early winter, year before last. Or was it late fall? Somewhere around there, anyway."

Elbridge and the others exchanged glances.

They couldn't be certain the innkeeper's son was one of the corpses. But the timing fit too well.

"...I did some mercenary work myself once, so I know. The good, exciting days in that life don't even add up to ten days a year. It's hard, you're always watching your back, and the pay's never as good as you'd think. He ought to come to his senses and head back soon."

The innkeeper said that while glancing toward the inn's entrance.

But no one came through the door.

The three of them hesitated. Did you sew your son's church emblem into the lining of his clothes. The question kept circling in their mouths.

But none of them said it to the innkeeper. Some things in this world were better left unknown.

A life spent glancing at the door, hoping a son would come back soon, was better than accepting that he'd died. And there was no way to be sure the innkeeper's son was one of the three bodies anyway.

"Where's this friend who brought him the job?"

"Left together with him. Why do you ask?"

"Wondering if there might be a job going in the same direction, if we're lucky."

"You'd have to ask that one over there. He's usually the one who brings in the jobs."

The innkeeper jerked his chin toward a blond man chatting with some mercenaries.

Blond was a generous word for it. It was the dry, yellowed blond of straw.

When Marcus walked over to the blond man, a few of the mercenaries recognized him.

"Whoa, isn't that Marcus? What have you been up to lately?"

"Oh, hey! Marcus! New sword? Looks like you've made some money."

Marcus didn't answer. He just dropped down beside the blond man.

The blond man looked a little startled.

"...Who are you?"

Marcus slung an arm over the man's shoulder.

"Want to talk business?"

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