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◈ Paladin of a Ruined Order

Chapter 96

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Marcus and Rombel

"They say a single word can change the course of a person's life. Spend today passing along something worth saying, Elbridge."

"I'll keep that in mind, Goddess."

For the past few days, the Goddess of the Rusted Shield had delivered a short oracle to Elbridge each morning. At a glance, it looked almost like a simple good-morning greeting.

But Elbridge knew why the Goddess of the Rusted Shield had started waking up early, so he couldn't help reading the oracles a little differently.

'The goddess is showing off that she's been getting up early these days.'

Elbridge offered a careful prayer.

"Goddess. There's something I'm curious about."

- Ask, Elbridge.

"Since I returned from Dickens Viscounty, has the Goddess been waking up early because of my prayers?"

There was a considerable gap in time between when Elbridge had returned from Dickens Viscounty and when the Goddess of the Rusted Shield had started sleeping early. But Elbridge prayed as if he knew nothing.

- Most cherished child. Your goddess has kept the humble nature she carried during her time on earth, and so she never lets a prayer pass unheard. And among all those countless prayers, if there's one she listens to more closely than any other, it is certainly yours, Elbridge.

"Thank you, Goddess."

- No need for such gratitude. Did your goddess not promise you before? Restoring day and night to their proper order is no difficult matter, so staying up through the night would solve it at once...

Only then did Elbridge feel a weight lift off his chest.

If the Goddess of the Rusted Shield had learned that Elbridge had gone to the Order of Spring Rain and Moss, let alone that he'd received an oracle from the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss herself, the reaction would have gone far beyond this.

But nothing in the oracle hinted at any suspicion.

Both the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss and Archbishop Abina had clearly kept the secret.

What would have happened if the contents of that oracle had somehow reached the Goddess of the Rusted Shield?

At the very least, the oracles would have stopped for a while. Depending on the situation, the church might have fallen apart.

Looking back, it had truly been a precarious moment.

'Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss. My thanks for your discretion.'

And so, for the first time since joining the Order of the Rusted Shield, Elbridge offered a prayer of thanks to another god. Not that the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss could actually hear it.

With one more round of the Goddess of the Rusted Shield's quiet self-satisfaction, today's prayer and oracle came to an end.

But Elbridge didn't leave the quiet prayer room right away. He sank into thought instead, because the small indulgence the Goddess of the Rusted Shield had just shown pointed at something larger.

'A god's desire.'

Unlike most people on earth, Elbridge had far more points of contact with heaven.

The Goddess of the Rusted Shield, the Goddess of Spring Rain and Moss, the God of Fox Rain, the God of the Iron Anvil, the God of Flowing Water.

Leonhardt, who had ascended to heaven. The Master of the Central Magic Tower, who had come down from heaven. Niserath the elf, who never ascended. And Rombel, who was trying to ascend even now.

Countless gods, those who had ascended, and those still striving to ascend, Elbridge had formed relationships with them all, great and small.

Thanks to that, Elbridge had come to understand one thing clearly.

The gods of heaven weren't the solemn, dignified beings detached from every desire that people imagined in stories.

Gods formed friendships with each other, and they clashed with each other. They agonized over securing even a single additional seat.

And even up in that lofty heaven, they wanted things. Almost like humans.

No, if anything, a god's desires sometimes felt sharper and clearer than an ordinary human's.

'Maybe that's only natural, in a way.'

Desire was the motive behind every action.

Motive moved people, and action produced results.

And the gods of heaven were beings who had achieved results on a scale no ordinary person could match, results worthy of being called great feats.

If gods who had achieved great feats carried desires larger than an ordinary person's,

then wasn't it only natural that gods would go on wanting something, even in heaven?

If that was true, then what were the gods of heaven hoping for, in the midst of all this chaos?

The Grand Festival was held again this summer.

Except this time, unlike last year, Elbridge sat in the stands instead of the arena.

Not just any ordinary seat, either. The best seat in the stands, right beside the Marquis of Solenion, was Elbridge's.

Good view of the matches, comfortable seating. If there was one uncomfortable thing about it, it was this.

The Marquis of Solenion's daughter, Avelyn, kept stealing glances at Elbridge.

The Marquis of Solenion spoke.

"What do you think, Sir Elbridge, about entering the Grand Festival yourself?"

Avelyn nodded eagerly in agreement. Elbridge pretended not to notice her.

"The church has exactly one paladin, myself. Even counting knights, that's only two of us."

"You could enter under the allied-church banner again, like last year."

"Unlike last year, there's a lot more noise around me this time. It would only cause trouble for any teammates."

The Marquis of Solenion wasn't the only one urging Elbridge to enter the Grand Festival.

If anything, the person pushing hardest for Elbridge's participation was the administrative priest Matilda. She'd gone so far as to bring the entry paperwork and hold it out to him directly.

'Let's enter the Grand Festival again this year and bring in some new believers.'

If Elbridge fought well at the Grand Festival, it would do wonders for recruiting new believers.

More believers meant a better chance at securing new seats, and new seats fed directly into the performance bonuses paid to the church's clergy. Matilda hadn't forgotten how sweet the bonus from those four seats had tasted earlier this year.

She'd been looking forward to this year's festival so much that even after Elbridge told her he wouldn't be entering, she tried to talk him into it several more times.

On the other side, there were people who'd been praying with folded hands that Elbridge would sit this one out. Paladins of the other combat churches, for instance.

Elbridge looked out over the arena.

This year's Grand Festival was far bigger than usual.

The crowd, of course, but also the number of participating paladins had grown well beyond previous years.

The Grand Festival was a chance for minor combat churches, ones whose names had nearly been forgotten, to make a comeback, and a chance for churches with some name recognition to leap further ahead.

It wasn't just the numbers, either.

The arena had been groomed to an even sharper polish, and the organizers were handing out light snacks to the crowd. Naturally, that cost came out of the Marquis of Solenion's own pocket.

The Marquis of Solenion wore a satisfied expression.

"Put a fair bit of effort into this year's festival."

The world was growing more chaotic, and people were growing uneasy.

The Marquis of Solenion wanted to show the residents that the combat churches still stood strong, to keep that unease in check. In a lot of ways, this festival lined up everyone's interests perfectly.

The announcer's voice rang out.

"The Antlers Church! Their opponent, the Order of the God of Fox Rain!"

Elbridge watched the arena.

Paladins in gleaming armor filed in, marching in neat rows. Among those paladins stood one figure who clearly didn't belong.

Marcus had appeared alongside the paladins of the Order of the God of Fox Rain.

The announcer introduced him as a paladin, but with nothing but a single cuirass strapped over his clothes, anyone could see he was a mercenary.

'Really doesn't fit in.'

But mismatched appearance aside, Marcus had drawn plenty of attention.

It was Marcus who'd led the Order of the God of Fox Rain, a church that usually didn't even bother entering the Grand Festival, all the way to the Main Round.

And it wasn't just a simple pass through the preliminaries. The Order of the God of Fox Rain had already won once in the Main Round.

An achievement earned by Marcus, who'd come out last and taken down three opposing paladins one after another.

"Marcus got that good?"

Elbridge muttered to himself, and Rombel, sitting beside him, answered.

"Used to be a mess, but he's decent enough these days. He pulled real weight when we were escaping Dickens Viscounty, too."

It was rare for Rombel to praise Marcus.

Like most men, Rombel was stingy with compliments. Even more so toward someone he actually knew.

"His physical stats are nothing special, but he reads situations fast and picks things up quick. Maybe it's from all the ugly stuff he's seen working as a mercenary, but he's got more nerve than he looks like he should."

"Nerve, huh?"

"You haven't seen him piss himself yet, have you?"

Elbridge laughed.

Apprentice paladins wetting themselves was hardly a rare sight.

"I know roughly how skilled Marcus is. It's just... I don't know, watching him actually take down paladins still feels strange to me."

"They're still green, those two. It's the Grand Festival, so nobody can use divine power. It'd honestly be stranger if Marcus lost."

Right then, a roar shook the arena. Waaaaugh—

Looking up at the stage, Elbridge saw Marcus limping, a cut across his leg.

Marcus limped a few more steps, then lowered his sword. His opponent was the High Paladin of the Antlers Church.

Rombel chuckled.

"Antlers Church played it smart. Instead of sending out some green paladin and risking their reputation, they put their High Paladin up front from the start. Forced Marcus to lead off too. Even Marcus can't beat a combat church's High Paladin yet."

With Marcus subdued, the match was effectively decided.

The lopsided fight dragged on a bit longer before the Antlers Church's victory was announced.

Some time passed.

By the time the next match was about to start, Marcus, who'd vanished into the waiting room, walked back over to Elbridge.

Through the tear in his pants, his leg showed clean and fully healed.

"Marcus. Your skill's really come a long way."

"Trying hard not to die'll do that to you."

The same slightly grumbling tone as always. But Marcus's expression was bright.

"Honestly, kind of fun, actually. Was sitting in the waiting room earlier, and the fine paladin gentlemen of the combat churches kept sneaking looks my way. Never would've imagined a situation like this, back in the day..."

Not that long ago, Marcus had been just another unremarkable mercenary.

But the Marcus standing here now was different. A real talent, the kind plenty of mercenaries would kill to be.

And it had taken him barely a year to reach this level. Plenty of room left to grow, too.

A question suddenly surfaced in Elbridge's mind.

"Marcus. You first followed me because of the oracle the God of Fox Rain gave you, right?"

"That's right."

"Do you think you'd still follow me now, even without an oracle?"

"That's... hm."

Moving alongside Elbridge inevitably meant walking into danger.

But the chance to gain far more also sat right beside Elbridge.

Danger, and desire.

Marcus mulled it over for a moment, then gave an answer that didn't match what Elbridge had expected.

"...Don't think I would."

"That's surprising."

Both failure and success carried their own momentum.

Just as someone who'd been stopped by failure found it hard to move again, someone who'd tasted the sweetness of success found it just as hard to stop.

People were built to keep wanting more, inevitably.

"Don't get me wrong. Not saying I'd cut ties. Even without an oracle, I'd still swing by the Order of the Rusted Shield's temple for a chat now and then, and if you ever asked for help, Sir Elbridge, I'd come running even if it was dangerous. Not that I'd be much use in a situation dangerous enough to threaten you, but... point is, I've got that much loyalty in me too."

Marcus took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing.

"But... if you're asking whether I'd follow you just to get more than what I've got now, I don't think I would. I already figure what I've got is a bit more than I deserve. Enough to live out the rest of my life plenty happy, and then some."

When Elbridge's group had received gifts of dwarven gear in the mountain city of Barquntol, Elbridge and Rombel had both picked their items with practicality in mind. Neither of them had any intention of avoiding the endless string of battles waiting ahead.

But Marcus was different. What Marcus picked was the sword that looked like it would fetch the highest price.

Not preparation for pressing forward, but a cushion set aside for the day he decided to stop.

Marcus shrugged.

"Well, still up in the air for now, though. God of Fox Rain gave me an oracle not long ago, too. Told me to quit scheming and just stick close to you, diligently... So whether I want to or not, I'll probably be tagging along for a while yet."

Elbridge offered a quiet piece of advice.

"You know that, Marcus? Retaliating against a believer who's switched their faith is forbidden under heaven's own rules."

Marcus snorted at that.

"Thing I learned doing mercenary work, rules like that don't mean much. Guys who crack someone's skull open with a club because they don't like him, they're not doing it because it's allowed. Grudges are the kind of thing you're better off never letting build up in the first..."

Marcus was in the middle of rambling happily on, when a faint rumble of thunder rolled across a sky without a single cloud in it. Rumble.

Marcus flinched immediately.

"...Not planning on switching churches, and not planning on ignoring any oracles either. Sir Elbridge. Understand?"

Elbridge looked between Rombel and Marcus. Two men who were, in a way, exact opposites of each other.

Elbridge couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing.

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