The Royen family’s territory lay almost exactly halfway to the royal capital. If they pushed the horses without rest, they could arrive in about two days. However, because of the melting snow, the ground had turned into a sticky swamp of mud, forcing the squad to slow their pace.
“And still, the Royen domain...” Ryan muttered, sounding like he was grumbling. “That’s the one place in the kingdom where we’re definitely not welcome. Aren’t we going to get a knife in the back while we’re lingering around here?”
“Our destination is the outskirts, not the center, so it’ll be fine.”
“By the way, Gunther... I didn’t know you believed in prophets and that kind of thing.”
At Ryan’s words, Gunther answered evasively.
“They say this prophet rarely made mistakes. Before something important, it’s worth paying them a visit.”
“Hm, well, it’s on the way anyway... But calling on a dead person’s soul just to ask about the future? Isn’t that a pretty rotten idea? You always hated things like that.”
That was true. In reality, Gunther still had not told his companions about the Tablet. So they thought he was simply planning to use the Soul Summoning Sphere on the remains of the famous prophet.
“...I don’t even know how to explain this.”
The Tablet. Traces left behind by a deity that governed time, in which both the past and the future were recorded. They were said to reveal information only selectively to their owner. Once, they had been a single whole, but around thirty years ago they shattered into fragments.
If it ended there, the explanation would have been simple. But after that, the contradictions began.
“It’s nothing but one giant paradox.”
The Tablet was called an “immutable chronicle,” and yet Gunther had already rewritten it. More than that, because of the actions of those who read its records, the very future he once knew had changed again and again.
The record exists. But it is not rigidly fixed. The moment it is read, it wavers; the moment someone acts, it deviates. That was why any attempt to explain it to someone else immediately ran headfirst into paradox.
If the future is recorded, why does it change? If it can change, can it still be called prophecy? And if the record itself changes, then what was the very first one?
“I think there’s definitely something to prophecies!” Blanc suddenly cut in.
Ever since the subject of the prophet had come up, she had looked unusually excited.
“You don’t even have to look far. Just take Gunther—he acts like he knows the future all the time. Don’t you remember?”
Parco and Levain nodded at the same time.
“That’s true. Gunther often moves like he’s got some kind of foresight. Thanks to that, we’ve saved our hides more than once.”
“Oho, a meeting of prophets? Though one of them’s a corpse,” someone snorted.
The conversation unexpectedly veered in a completely different direction.
“Hey, speaking of the Sphere... Could we summon the soul of our old platoon commander too?” Blanc asked.
A brief silence fell.
“Blanc.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know! You said it can’t be used too often... But still, right? Gunther, aren’t you curious too?”
Gunther understood perfectly what their former commander meant to the soldiers. He slowly nodded.
“I’ll try asking Kylis to lend it to us one more time. But don’t get your hopes up too much.”
“Hehe, Gunther, you’re the best! When that day comes, we absolutely have to call Tarsha too. We’ll introduce you.”
“...All right.”
At that moment, Rietta and Yuria joined the conversation.
“...Then does that mean Lord Raymond can be brought back too? Yuria, where might the teacher’s body be?”
“Either it’s still there... or those Luthien bastards took it for themselves,” Yuria replied with a savage look, running a finger along the blade of her axe. “The Cult of Healing loves messing around with corpses...”
In other words—necromancy. Gunther frowned at the sudden thought that one day he might have to face a zombie version of Raymond.
Clap.
But there was no time to let that grim fantasy develop any further. Cheonmae had returned from scouting. Brushing the snow from her shoulders in exhaustion, she brought good news.
“There’s a place ahead where we can make camp. We’ll grab a little sleep and move at dawn.”
That night, after lighting a fire and hastily eating, his companions sank one by one into deep sleep. By unspoken agreement, the first watch was left to Gunther. As he stared into the flames, a quiet voice came from behind him.
“Hey, junior.”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t been in Valloren that long... so did you really catch that whole ‘chivalry’ thing from them or something?”
Turning around, Gunther saw Cheonmae. She had not removed her mask even while resting. Through its slits, her eyes were narrowed at him.
“You save someone under this excuse, spare someone under that excuse... You’re acting way too soft, and it worries me.”
When Gunther stayed silent, Cheonmae sighed and jabbed the ground with her enormous bow.
“I get it. In the end, the result was good. But listen...”
Cheonmae looked back at the road they had come from.
“If you start sympathizing with every collaborator the enemy has, sooner or later the line between good and evil is going to disappear.”
“...You’re right.”
“Yeah, remember that.” Cheonmae reached out and snatched a burning branch from the fire. “Krest? I don’t give a damn why that son of a bitch got involved with Luthien.”
Pressing the glowing tip to her pipe, she exhaled a stream of bluish smoke.
“Even if he’s got some sob story no one can hear without crying, I don’t care. The fact remains: no matter how many years he rots in prison, he won’t do anything useful for us. People like that are predictable.”
Cheonmae’s words were not mere speculation. Gunther, who knew the story of how she had joined Night Raven, kept his silence. His eyes remained fixed on the flames.
“Did you think the same thing when the first soldiers of the Fifth Platoon fled under Night Raven’s wing?”
Silence fell. The smoke slowly dissolved into the night air.
“...Children are different. They still have potential.”
“Then that’s your ‘chivalry,’ senior.”
“Tch.” Cheonmae visibly recoiled, while Gunther gave the faintest smile.
Waving away the smoke with her pipe, she muttered:
“...Moon Wolf likes that trait of yours. The part where you want to stay a good person until the end. But I don’t.”
Gunther’s gaze met Cheonmae’s.
“Of course, you’re a damn capable guy, and you’re the one who’s going to raise this organization to a whole new level... But I think one day you’ll have to cut that softness out of yourself. For your own sake, and for the comrades walking behind you.”
“......”
“Stubborn bastard,” Cheonmae chuckled. “If you’d been born in Valloren, you should’ve become a knight. It would suit you perfectly.”
“You know, I’m actually starting to like this whole knight idea.”
“You little brat. I still wouldn’t let you go.”
She jokingly swung her leg as if to kick him, then lay back down in her spot. Soon her breathing evened out, but Gunther knew she wasn’t asleep. After listening to the crackling firewood for a while, he spoke.
“Senior.”
“......”
“Senior.”
“Damn it, back in my day juniors got beaten if they breathed too loudly while seniors were sleeping.”
Gunther snorted, then after a short pause continued:
“If there existed a record of your entire past and future... well, a kind of chronicle of ‘fate,’ how would that make you feel?”
“...What kind of nonsense are you suddenly talking about?”
“If the beginning and the end of everything we’ve been through and everything we’ll go through were written there... If some annoying god had documented all of it with divine authority... what would you do?”
It was a difficult question. But Cheonmae merely gave a short snort.
“I wouldn’t look.”
“...What?”
“I just wouldn’t. I don’t know about the past, but if the future was written there, I simply wouldn’t read it.”
Gunther smiled at the absurdity of the answer, but strangely enough, he felt relieved. Yes, that kind of reaction was possible too.
“No matter what kind of shit happens ahead, whether I fight it, break down crying and shatter, or turn around and run... all of that will still be my choice.”
“I see.”
“Even if the ending is predetermined, I’m still the one writing the road to it. Why the hell would I give some god with nothing better to do than scribble prophecies even the slightest chance to interfere?”
Crack!
The campfire burst loudly. Over that sound came Cheonmae’s final mutter.
“You really do think too much all the time...”
“Sorry.”
“Quit philosophizing and sleep. Ah, right, you’re on watch. Then sleep later...”
Gunther followed her advice. Even when his companions woke to relieve him, he refused and guarded the fire alone. And when the light of dawn began to push the darkness aside in the east, he reached a decision.
“Yes, this is the right way. From this point on, they all need to be drawn into this story.”
When everyone woke up, Gunther gathered his comrades together. He told them everything he knew about the Tablet and Ellen Beyra.
Everything except the “alteration of the past.” That would have been too difficult to accept.
“...What the hell?”
That single phrase from Ryan perfectly reflected the feelings of everyone present.
***
His companions’ reaction to the truth about the Tablet was more or less what Gunther had expected: a mix of confusion, shock, denial, and curiosity. But everyone remained skeptical of the idea that “everything is predetermined.”
“I’ll just think of it as a reference book.”
“Wait, but if you see a record of the past and change the future, wouldn’t the part written in the Tablet also change?”
“What kind of artifact is this? It’s full of contradictions.”
In the end, the discussion narrowed down to one conclusion.
“We need to summon the soul of this Ellen Beyra as soon as possible.”
“Exactly. Before the decisive battle, we can’t leave these loose ends behind us.”
The group quickened their pace.
“I think it’s this way...”
The place where Ellen Beyra rested was a completely wild forest. At # Nоvеlight # the end of an almost invisible path stood a hill overgrown with weeds and shrubs.
Whether out of gratitude for leading House Royen to prosperity, or guilt over the fact that they had brutally killed her in the end, the grave had been properly arranged. An old but intact headstone, an altar for flowers... though by now nature had swallowed almost all of it.
“So this is what’s left of their conscience?” Blanc muttered, activating “Seren Gless” to clear the grass. “They killed her, and now they put on a show of respect. Makes me sick.”
“...She was a prophetess. Didn’t she know this kind of end was waiting for her?”
Standing before the solitary grave that no one had visited for decades, his companions instinctively grew quiet. Gunther silently stepped toward the headstone. After paying his respects, he slipped a hand beneath his robe.
“Well then, let’s begin.”
[Alphonse of Red Street explains how to use the item]
[He adds that your magical potential is more than sufficient]
Hummmm...
The Soul Summoning Sphere left his palm and hovered in the air by itself. At that same moment, thick smoke began to seep out from inside the sphere. A sharp wind swept over the hill. The grass bent flat to the earth all at once, as if bowing before someone important.
And at the very center of that vortex... a silhouette suddenly took shape.
“...!”
Everyone held their breath. Even though she had been dead for several decades, her appearance was no different from how she must have looked in life. If not for the slight translucence and the absence of breath, she looked exactly like a living person. The sight alone was astonishing, but...
“What the—?”
“Huh?”
“Wait a second...”
His companions stirred for an entirely different reason. They looked at each other, trying to confirm whether everyone else was seeing the same thing. Cheonmae voiced the shared thought.
“...Why does she look so much like him?”
Black hair and azure eyes. Exceptionally beautiful features. Ellen Beyra’s face was strangely similar to Gunther’s.
Gunther himself could not tear his eyes away from her. The resemblance was far too obvious to be mere coincidence.
And then, at last, Ellen Beyra opened her mouth.
