Bluesteel Blasphemer Volume 1

by Ichirou Sakaki

  “Hey. Look at that.”

  Heading down the main street that passed through the center of Friedland and led to the roads outside the town was a procession of dozens of people and a single shrine float. The people in the procession were wearing long robes dyed indigo, and all were holding poles with bells in their hands. Every time they took a step, the clear, monotonous sound of the many bells rang out, and they were trailed by the muddy sloshing of the float’s large wheels gouging out the ground.

  It was a ritual procession. This event, held once every three years, was by now a familiar sight to many inhabitants of this town. The sight of a girl sitting atop the float with her head down was also one the people knew well. The thin clothing she was wearing was more like an undergarment, and the few pieces of fabric constructing it were so thin that her skin was visible through them. This clothing was something created especially for this ritual every time it came around, and depending on your perspective, it could have been called incredibly erotic.

  The crowd of people standing and watching the ritual procession were exchanging murmurs. “This year’s shrine maiden is awfully young,” someone whispered. There was no excitement in their words; instead of the exultation of festival-goers, their voices carried a languid, gloomy tone that evoked a sense of resignation.

  “She’s not half bad lookin’ too. It’s a criminal waste, it is.”

  “She was an orphan brought up specifically for this day. What can you do?”

  “Look at all the good it’s done. All this rain, and there’s been no river flooding, no landslides...”

  The whispers continued as they watched the procession recede into the distance. Their gazes, cast upon the girl sitting atop the float, were much like those of people watching a funeral procession.

  ●

  Before long, the procession reached its destination.

  “Get out.” The order came from the three priests who were standing at the head of the line.

  “Yes...” Berta nodded obediently and alighted from the float.

  The long chains leading from her legs to the float clanked noisily. The priests unclasped the chains. Then, holding them by the end, they led Berta down to the end of the path.

  There was a “sanctuary” there. Of course, that was just the name the priests called it by; the building in which they usually slept was located back in town, as one would expect it to be. More significantly, this place set up in the mountains was a ritual site. In short, this place was home to a god, making it a “house of God” in the most literal sense.

  Despite it being a “house,” there were no walls. It consisted solely of a patch of land (the kind on which a typical Friedlandian house might have otherwise been built), a number of large stone pillars arranged in the shape of an ellipse, and a single, huge flat rock atop them. There were no other structures—just that.

  It was impossible to say how anyone could have created such a monolithic piece of rock; the same went for how it had been placed on top of those stone pillars. It was the work of a god. Gods were gods precisely because they readily accomplished that which was impossible for humans, and it was for just that reason that people prostrated themselves on the ground and worshipped them.

  “Here, please.” The priests beckoned her to the center of the sanctuary.

  A single iron stake had been driven into the ground. At the top of the stake was a ring, also made of iron, to which the priests reconnected the chains extending from Berta’s legs. The priests were working efficiently. It was likely less that they were used to this procedure, and more that they had a strong desire to finish up this task quickly and leave. They may have been priests, but they were still human. They feared the gods as much as the next person—in fact, even more so.

  “Ensure you do your job,” one of them said.

  “Yes...” Berta nodded again in answer to the priest’s words. Of course, she understood the meaning of “job,” but she wasn’t about to panic at this point. Perhaps because this had been impressed on her over and over and over again for years, the fear was by now a very familiar feeling.

  The priests nodded to the rest of the procession. The procession nodded back and started heading back the way they had come, pulling the float in the opposite direction and leaving Berta on her own. Of course, the priests would monitor the progress of the ritual from a place some short distance away. This was a precaution in case the “shrine maiden” lost her nerve at the last possible moment and attempted to escape, or behaved in some other irreverent way in front of the god once it appeared. It was said that this had happened a number of times in the past, and whenever it did, the priests offered one more “shrine maiden” in order to quell the god’s anger.

  Of course, Berta had no intention of doing such a thing. If she could not do her “job,” another “shrine maiden” would be selected from her “little sisters” at the orphanage to pacify the god. Of course, they were only a “family” by name, not related by blood, but those girls were very important to Berta, who didn’t even know what her parents looked like. As she pictured the faces of each of her “sisters” in turn, Berta sighed.

  She suddenly frowned in confusion. She had heard a small noise of some sort. For a moment, she thought that the god—the erdgod—had appeared, but if that were the case, the first thing that she’d have heard would have been booming footsteps and roars. She had never heard of a god hiding in the shadows of a sanctuary’s pillar and waiting in secret for the arrival of the “shrine maiden.”

  “There can’t be—” Berta walked toward the direction of the sound. The chain had some length to it, so she was at least free to move around inside the sanctuary. She went to its “back” side—the side opposite to where they had come in. She peered around one of the rearmost pillars and gasped.

  A man and a woman were sitting there, leaning with their backs against the pillar. Both were likely travelers—they were wearing coats and sleeping close to each other. There were also traces of a campfire at their feet. They had probably suffered from the heavy rain that had been falling until a short while ago and taken shelter here at the sanctuary, then been so tired from their journey that they had carelessly fallen asleep at the same time. The sound she had just heard had probably been made by one of them shifting in their sleep. However—

  “These people are...”

  Dressed a little strangely. No, to be precise, both the man and the woman had slightly unusual items on them.

  First, the tall and lean young man. He was probably about the same age as Berta: late teens or thereabouts. He had a classically handsome face. Even when he was asleep, his face didn’t relax, but looked serious, as if he had spent so long continually agonizing over something that the expression had gotten stuck. He had gorgeous, soft blonde hair that was wasted on a man, but that was about the only thing that stood out about him; nothing else about his appearance was particularly unique.

  However, the thing he had by his side was something Berta had never seen before. She imagined that it was probably a sword. It looked like a long weapon in its sheath. Unlike a normal sword, however, it was very bulky around the handle, or rather its mounting. It was a bizarre shape, bigger than necessary, as though the blade of a sword had been fastened to a club. In addition, there were a number of metal-like parts built into the handle. The whole thing looked like some sort of tool.

  What on earth was it? Maybe this was actually a normal weapon to see in the capital and large cities, and Berta simply didn’t know of it. Of course, a weapon to protect oneself was essential when traveling, but whatever it was that this young man possessed, it left a much more imposing impression than a mere sword.

  And second—the girl. She was short in stature and had a cute-looking face, but because her silver hair had been cut short, she could be easily mistaken for a boy if seen from the wrong angle. Maybe she gave off a different impression when her eyes were open and she had an actual expression on her face.

  The strange item this gi
rl had was in front of her eyes. It had two small, glass plates connected by thin, metal parts. They were hooked over her ears and balanced on her nose. It was Berta’s first time seeing this item, as well. Thinking about it, she’d heard from a merchant who came to town that there were things called “glasses,” which were tools used to correct the vision of people with bad eyes. Perhaps that was what these were.

  “E-Excuse me.” Berta tried speaking to the two of them. She felt bad for waking them up when they were tired, but if she didn’t do something, they would be caught up in the ritual, and Berta had no idea what kind of reaction these unanticipated beings would elicit from the erdgod. Gods were incomprehensible and fickle. Would it be pleased? Would it be angry? Both were possible. But in either case, there was no doubt that it would mean more victims besides Berta. She raised her voice and called out again. “Excuse me. Please get up.”

  Neither of them showed any sign of moving. Making up her mind, Berta extended her hand towards the young man to touch him on the cheek. But just before she could touch him—maybe he’d sensed something, maybe it was just coincidence—his eyes snapped open and he looked back at her.

  “Uh...?” It wasn’t clear which of them had made that stupid-sounding noise, but a wordless gasp of surprise echoed around the sanctuary and the mountain forest surrounding it.

  ●

  The residents who had been participating in the ritual procession returned to town and were met by Fiona Schillings, acting town mayor.

  “Thanks for your help, everyone.”

  The men wearing indigo-blue ceremonial clothes bowed their heads in unison, turned, and walked away from the mansion. As Fiona silently watched them disperse to various places in the town, she repeatedly curled her long blonde hair around a finger. This was a pointless habit of Fiona’s that she did whenever she was irritated.

  The ritual procession had returned, but the ritual itself was not over. There was simply no more role for humans to play. The main event, yet to come, was to be conducted by the god of the land. Of course, it was a “ritual” only in name. In truth, it was a brutally heartless feast.

  Fiona’s jade-green eyes narrowed, and a melancholy expression distorted the neat and pretty face for which she had been well known back at the academy in the capital. “I suppose it won’t help to express my displeasure,” she said.

  “It is, after all, a tradition that has been upheld for generations,” replied the man standing beside her.

  She wasn’t particularly seeking an answer, but one had come anyway from the Schillings family’s butler. Not only did he handle miscellaneous tasks within the house, he also assumed the role of assisting Fiona, who was serving as the town mayor in place of her bedridden father. The butler had been born and raised in this town and was of course older than Fiona, even older than her father. For him, this ritual was very, very natural.

  “Because nothing could be done about it,” Fiona said.

  “But of course. Nothing can be done,” the butler replied and nodded deeply, a smug look on his face.

  People often create logic to justify pre-existing facts. Here in Friedland, the ritual was simply accepted. After so long had been spent rationalizing it in the name of "the greater good," no one even thought to question it anymore, regardless of how hard it was on everyone emotionally.

  Fiona thought about how it really was scary, what people grew to accept. If she had grown up without ever leaving this town—if she hadn’t left to study in the kingdom’s capital—she would have accepted this ritual without even questioning it. Of course, she understood that nothing could be done about it. The royalty and nobility in the capital did not concern themselves with rural politics. As long as the taxes were coming in regularly, they had no interest, whatever might be happening out here. Even if she made some kind of complaint, they would simply recite that they “respect local customs,” and steadfastly refuse to get involved.

  “How long are we going to have to keep doing this...”

  “Forever, Milady,” the butler said with a gentle smile.

  ●

  When he woke up... there was a naked girl right beside him.

  That was more than enough to disturb Yukinari.

  “What...?”

  No, on second glance, she wasn’t naked, but... in a way, what she did have on made her look vastly more inappropriate than “nothing” ever could have. What she was wearing was thin, underwear-like clothing that covered only limited areas. It was made of finely woven silk gauze, and he could essentially see right through it to her skin. It wasn’t a matter of just seeing “outlines.” If someone were close enough, they could probably discern the peach fuzz on her skin. Yukinari couldn’t help but think that going openly and completely naked would be less arousing to wandering eyes than wearing what she did.

  Moreover, the girl was cute. She was maybe sixteen or seventeen, her hair was long and flaxen, and she had a pretty face. However, she looked somehow fragile, and the light dwelling in her amber eyes seemed terribly faint. It was far easier to picture her crying than laughing or being angry. She was that kind of girl. Her appearance might even tempt people of a certain disposition to cruelty and the desire to tease her for no good reason. However, Yukinari had no such tendencies.

  Dasa, who had been sleeping next to him, also awoke with a mumble of sleepy confusion. She had probably picked up on Yukinari’s surprise. She took her glasses off, rubbed her eyes to wake herself up, put the glasses back on, and looked at the girl who was just standing there next to them, not moving.

  “You...” Dasa’s eyes narrowed behind her lenses.

  “Are you into some kinda niche stuff?” Yukinari asked first.

  “Stupid...” Dasa delivered a terribly cold assessment of Yukinari’s dim-witted remark.

  “So she isn’t?”

  “She’s chained... up.”

  “Uh, yeah, that was my point...” Yukinari said, tilting his head.

  In Yukinari’s simple worldview, if someone were chained up and as good as naked, they were either a slave or a pervert. But there was surely no way that a slave would just be left by a huge stone monument out here in the mountains. The point of slaves was to put them to work. So the only remaining possibility was—

  “U-Um, please, please get out of here quickly...” The girl in thin clothing interrupted Yukinari’s thoughts. Her voice was as timid as she looked, and yet within it, there were unmistakable tones of urgency and panic.

  “Don’t you know where you are? This is the erdgod’s sanctuary...!”

  “Erdgod?” Yukinari furrowed his brow.

  “You might be okay, but the girl next to you,” the girl said, looking at Dasa, “she might be seen as a ‘shrine maiden’ like—”

  She was unable to finish her sentence. A squelching sound of feet against wet earth boomed through the air overhead. And then, shortly after—

  “Ohhh... Ohhh...” Was that sound, like mud bubbling, a voice? “There are... two... whole... sacrifices...”

  Yukinari turned in the direction of the voice. And there—

  “An erdgod,” Dasa muttered.

  Standing there was a gigantic monstrosity. There was no other way to describe it. The textures and shapes of the various parts of its body seemed familiar enough, and it was covered with the kind of fur commonly seen on four-legged animals. But a six-legged creature like this was far beyond a mere “animal.”

  To be precise, it had four hoofed legs and two additional limbs that were not identifiable as arms or legs growing from its body. At the ends of those two limbs were long, thin “fingers” that seemed to dangle down, and they were all moving independently, restlessly, like the legs of an insect. Moreover, its head was clearly not that of a four-legged animal. In fact, its face was constructed more like a monkey’s—no, a human’s. It was round, and its eyes, nose, mouth, even its ears were gathered close together in the hairless area at its center. It was as if a tiny human face had been embedded in the middle of a faceless bal
l of meat.

  Then was this thing human? It did have a human-like face, and it could understand and use human language...

  “SACRIFICES. SACRIFICES.”

  “SMALL ONE. WANT. WANT.”

  “EAT MAN TOO.”

  There were other monstrosities crawling around the huge one’s feet. They were about the size of a dog or cat, but again their heads were more like those of humans than four-legged animals, creating a horribly incongruous picture.

  “What are these guys...?”

  “An erdgod and... its familiars,” Dasa replied.

  “Erdgod? You’re telling me this thing is a god?”

  “Most were animals at... first,” Dasa said, opening up her case and reaching inside.

  “Animals, huh... Well, yeah, it doesn’t look like we’re gonna have much of a conversation.”

  Yukinari looked around with a weary expression. There was one gigantic monster—or should it be called a god?—called an “erdgod,” and its ten or so divine familiars. They were each holding a position to surround the megalithic structure the girl had called the “sanctuary,” and all were staring at the three humans. The familiars’ faces resembled those of human beings. However, it was impossible to sense any higher form of intelligence in their expressions, and drool was dripping from their half-open mouths. At least the erdgod, which could have been called their boss, did not have a face that slack.

  In any case, Yukinari, Dasa, and Berta were in the very picture of a tight spot. Not only were they surrounded, their enemies were horrible monstrosities. Although the familiars had bodies like large dogs, it was still clear just by looking at them that they were not something that a human being could handle on their own. If it came down to a bare-handed fight to the death, a human wouldn’t even be the favorite against ordinary, medium-sized canines. The dogs would jump at him all at once, and he would be bitten to death, powerless to stop them.