Chapter 40: The Marquis of Saint-Pierre (1)
‘So that's what it was.’
Abel let out a sigh.
Konstanze's private spell, ‘The Endless Puppet Show’.
It was true that he had felt a question about it. Since it was a spell of an absurd scale.
Magic was not a miracle. It was close to a chemical reaction. Divine magic was a phenonon that borrowed the power of the Pantheon with divine power as a dium, and elental magic occurred when magic and spirits collided. If so, what was Konstanze's private spell being maintained at the cost of?
‘Was it everything of the caster.’
Not only magic, but also the whole of her body, and even her soul.
The real Konstanze must have been reduced to a living corpse. In a state where not only the dismantling of the spell, but even its control was impossible, she must just be prolonging her life by Iris's hand.
[I request once more.]
Konstanze's mouth opened.
For now, that is the main body. Abel judged so. Since it could control the other clones, and possessed the title of Vice President and the authority of the Theresia family.
[Please complete the qualification verification process.]
“Iris René von Orléans.”
Iris lit a match to her cigarette.
“The one who has received the right of control from your master.”
[Please wait a mont. I will check your iris.]
Konstanze looked up at Iris.
Iris's eyes twisted. Huu, and. The tobacco smoke that poured towards Konstanze. Konstanze wore a chanical smile.
[Verified. Iris René von Orléans, the one who has been entrusted with full authority from my master.]
“I will now give you an order.”
[I will approve.]
Iris's head bent towards Konstanze.
Beyond the jet-black veil, Iris whispered with her eyes narrowed.
“You will sleep soundly for about three hours from now. The clones other than you will continue their missions. Erase the fact that I visited from your mory. Because I do not wish to be left in your mind.”
And also, and.
Iris continued.
“Be absolutely optimistic.”
[What should I be optimistic about?]
“Be optimistic about everything of yours. Erase from your mind the invasion of external forces, as well as the cause of trivial worries.”
A doll has no right to agonize.
Iris whispered so.
“You must be endlessly gentle, and sotis naive. You must not be buried in political beliefs or struggles for interests. Remain a teacher who cherishes the children. That is the future my friend Konstanze von Theresia should have reached……. You are to concentrate only on performing that child's role. Do you understand?”
[Approved.]
Konstanze nodded her head.
[……Comncing reactivation.]
A mont of silence.
Soon, a focus was engraved in Konstanze's eyes, and,
“I……, ris?”
At the sa mont she called out in a trembling voice,
“I am……, what on earth……”
──Koong!
Konstanze's body, collapsing onto the desk.
The quill pens and bundles of docunts that had been flying around all sides settled down. A regular breathing sound, spreading in the silence. After confirming that Konstanze was asleep, Iris looked back at Abel.
“For what purpose.”
Abel asked in an indifferent tone.
“The reason for prolonging the Vice President's life. Is it to have her as a subordinate? Or is it because you do not want to accept the death of a close friend.”
“I wonder.”
Iris lifted her sh veil.
A face without makeup. Iris's features, with her makeup removed, were as innocent as a Saintess's. But the cigarette stuck between her lips was steeped in the acridity of a noble.
“What does it look like to you? Tell , Abel. For what purpose am I keeping Stanzi alive?”
“Either way, it doesn't matter.”
Because it's futile.
Abel muttered so.
“We are strangers. A handful of power, and a mont's mory, are just futile. You must know that as well. After we finish subjugating the Demon King, we must leave.”
To leave ant to die.
After the subjugation of the Demon King by ‘The Mother God's Right Hand’, ‘The Mother God's Left Hand’ would cast aside their bodies and leave for another world. Their life in Epezeria was just a fleeting journey. Countless worlds were waiting for Abel and Iris. That was why they had to be aware. Of their respective domains that would soon beco empty.
Even if you hold onto power, only an empty throne will be left.
Even if you make a close friend, it will just leave you with a sense of loss.
“Stanzi is a special child to . There's no need for that child, or this doll, to be with us.”
Iris took the cigarette with a burning ember.
She crushed the butt with her bare hand.
“At the sa ti, she is a useful tool. Since I have beco able to handle the real power of CIAR as I please.”
“I suppose so. I have no intention of getting involved in your intentions.”
Abel shrugged his shoulders.
Then he whispered with his eyes narrowed.
“But you are……, deceiving yourself.”
Iris's expression sharpened.
What is that man trying to say. Iris thought, glaring at Abel. If I'm deceiving, what am I deceiving? Am I deceiving a noble as a Saintess? Or am I deceiving a Saintess as a noble?
“Are you always like that?”
Iris wore a smile.
It was a laugh that contained a clear provocation.
“Without any desire, you save countless worlds from the position of a stranger, and……, have you taught nurous disciples? Monika Lohengrin. You have no intention of becoming a new father to that child who has lost her parents, do you?”
“Monika is a child who knows how to cherish death. That child has no need for new parents.”
I am a re teacher,
and there is no teacher who is with his disciple forever.
Hearing such words from Abel, Iris let out a sigh. What a blockheaded person. He's no different from an inanimate object. Iris thought, shaking her head. Following that, Iris's hand was held out to Abel. A magic circle appeared for a mont, and a carefully sealed letter was teleported.
“The imperial palace will be opened this weekend.”
Iris said to Abel, who was examining the letter.
“The big shots of the social world will gather, taking advantage of the banquet. You must co with . His Majesty the Emperor has personally invited you.”
“……I am not inclined.”
Abel's eyebrows twisted slightly.
The social world. Does he an I have to wiggle my butt with the nobles?
When he opened the letter, two letters were tied together. One was a perfunctory invitation. The nas of the distinguished guests scheduled to visit were written on it. The other letter was a personal letter from the emperor. Sentences conveying his regards were listed, but it was not difficult to guess his intention. The invasion incident that had occurred a while ago. A discussion about that must be the business.
“Please bring Monika too. She's a child who will beco a Hero in the future, how can she not know the state of the social world? That child must learn how to overwhelm the nobles.”
And also, and.
Iris said, fumbling in her overcoat.
“You must have confird it, right? The oracle from the Pantheon.”
A journal was held in Iris's hand.
It was different from Abel's. A neat shape, not old. The patterns decorating the cover of the journal were sparkling with moonlight.
“The Execution of the God Forged from Lies. It is our new mission.”
Abel nodded his head.
Though the content of the oracle was unclear, Abel and Iris were sharing a hypothesis based on experience. A creation who wishes to beco a god himself. Or a creation who tries to create a god. A creation who desires the power of the main gods. They had faced such cases countless tis.
When compared to the civilization of Epezeria,
there was only one group that could have the preceding examples as their objective.
‘It must be the apostates.’
Abel was certain, examining the list of distinguished guests.
In the center of the invitation, a certain na stood out.
Deserick de Saint-Pierre.
The marquis of the north, the man who had made the corpses of knights into weapons.
* * *
Dawn, the Crimson Whale Building of Cia-Harphe Academy.
While the autumn wind shook the blackout curtains,
Alberge said, holding a teapot.
An apron decorated his body, which was nothing but bones. An apron with a rich floral embroidery that stood out. It was an item that Fleur had chosen herself.
“Thank you, Sir Alberge.”
Fleur held out a porcelain coffee cup. Fragrant coffee poured out from the tilted teapot. Cold brew coffee made from southern beans. After taking a sip of it, Fleur looked down at the table.
Between the plates of breakfast, a pile of mail was stacked.
Most of it was nothing but kindling. Fleur, as an Evangelist, was a celebrity within CIAR, and there were plenty of students who wished for her friendship. There were not a few boys who sent her love letters.
The boys' sentences were endlessly naive. Your hair is a flower petal woven from frost. I wish to slide on it. Fleur snorted. She folded the love letter, written in clumsy handwriting, any which way.
anwhile, Alberge said, sitting across from Fleur.
“Is that so?”
Fleur looked around.
Indeed, there was so truth to Alberge's words. The inside of Fleur's dormitory was full of the dead. Knights with only bones left were wearing armor, and were staring at a distant place with a vacant glint in their eyes. Their reason had been gone for a long ti. It wasn't that their instincts were left either. They were moving through their souls.
“But even so……”
Tuk, and.
The sound of a coffee cup hitting a saucer.
“It feels bad to just keep them locked up in a pocket dinsion. I want to show them the sunlight sotis.”
Alberge's glint of light narrowed.
It was an expression as if he were wearing a smiling eye.
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