“God will understand our words.”
That was all he said in response. Those words stung all the more for those serious about prayer.
Col used the moment to take a deep breath and then replied.
“We live in the world of mortals. The words of mortals would be enough.”
“Hmm.”
It was the first time some emotion appeared in Autumn’s eyes.
That encouraged Col, and he gripped his fist tightly.
“Please do not clasp the dirtied hand of the Church as they continue to cling to rotting power. If you let the Kingdom of Winfiel know of the islands’ plight, they will surely give you some aid.”
Col did not have the right to make such promises nor any guarantee.
But at the very least, he believed in Hyland. He believed that God’s true teachings were still here. He wanted Autumn to believe that, too.
“And what would come of that?”
That was his only response.
“To receive any sort of charity is a mistake.”
Autumn slowly began to move toward him. It felt like the darkness was closing in.
“I only believe in the Black-Mother’s protection.”
She who had sacrificed herself for the island and may have not been human.
Not only was that the root of Autumn’s fanaticism, it normalized the act of sacrifice.
Which meant there was no reason for Autumn to refuse talks with the Ruvik Alliance, who owned mountains of gold in real life.
To choose what was certain into one’s hands was an invariable principle for those who lived in unforgiving circumstances. Even if it was burning metal, the need was overwhelming. It was necessary to calmly take a hold even if hands burned or flesh charred.
“Pray,” Autumn murmured as he slipped by them and exited the chapel.
Col could not bring himself to turn around to watch him go, let alone chase after him. Standing before the elegantly arranged place of worship, he could not move.
What was God doing? Why did he not appear from his altar? Even if he glared at the Church’s banner, spread out wide above the altar and lit dimly from the snow, the only response he received was silence.
He turned around and felt like running. His legs could not move forward because there, standing in the middle of the aisle, was Myuri, holding the basket.
“Brother, your promise.”
Her gaze pressured him. He was honest and good-natured, and once he left the dreamland of his hot spring village, the claws of reality tore into him.
Maybe what Myuri had said was right.
But was it really just? Were both Autumn and Myuri both saying that the correct way to deal with a cold reality was to have a cold heart? Was it right to simply shrug one’s shoulders and accept that this was reality with a cool head, in cold blood, even?
Those impertinent words had led to dozens of people being sold as slaves.
Suddenly, he was filled with raging fury.
There were things that even he could do.
Should he show it?
“Myuri, lend me your power.”
“Huh?” she asked back, bewildered.
With a wide gait, he drew closer to the girl standing in the middle of the aisle and gripped both of her slim shoulders.
“Brother, what? Ow, hey, that hurts!”
Myuri twisted herself and tried to run, but the basket dropped from her hands and the beautiful shrimp fell to the floor.
Right as she looked down at the wasted food, with the side of her face in front of him—
“…”
This was how he could get her to act. He knew what she wanted and how simple it was to bend her toward his conviction. Feeling like he had gotten his revenge, his lips left her cheek.
“Myuri, become a wolf and jump into the banquet, pretend to be a servant of the Black-Mother, and then their plans—”
He only made it that far.
As Myuri continued to stare at the floor, tears rolled from her eyes and made a small tap when they hit the floor.
“…”
There were no words. She looked at him, glaring. Her reddish-amber eyes wavered in anger and contempt.
It was only then that Col understood what he had done.
He hurt Myuri.
Truly, deeply hurt her.
“M-Myuri…I…”
“Don’t touch me!”
Her voice tore through him, and his hand stopped. She collapsed to the floor and stared at the shrimp—cold, legs broken. It was almost as though something precious of hers had died with it.
“You always treated me so well only because you wanted to use me?”
She bared her fangs and her claws as he stood there in shock.
“No, you didn’t. I know that much.”
Her words sounded gentle, but her mouth was twisted in scorn. She crouched, retrieved the shrimp, and placed it in the basket.
It was only moments earlier that it looked so delicious, but now it was nothing but a cold corpse.
Myuri stood, still staring at the basket.
Then, as though a string had been cut, she spoke.
“You were nice to me even when I got in your way. No matter how spoiled I acted you were still kind to me. There is no way such a nice boy could stand up against that.”
When she looked up, he had never seen her face so filled with anger.
“But I wanted you to be cool, so I thought that maybe you could manage. You’re stupid and never look around you, but your honesty is your strength. I thought you could somehow accept this island and move on in your own way. I was going to help you because I knew you would keep working hard even if you kept obeying whatever orders that blondie gave you. But—”
She sniffled and furiously rubbed her eyes with her arm. This was not the girl who would walk around all day with bread crumbs on her mouth unless her older brother looked after her.
“All you ever do is just run around like an idiot. And to top it all off…you—you…”
Thinking that she would do whatever he asked of her if he gave her a kiss was exactly the same species of arrogance the archbishop possessed. There was no love, no compassion—only what was most convenient for his egotistical self.
Myuri sniffled one more time and said, “I’m going home. Sorry for getting in the way of your trip.”
She whirled around, and there was no chance for him to call out to her. But had there been a chance, what would he have even said? He understood nothing.
And the most wretched part was that somewhere in his heart, he accepted it all calmly like it was the obvious conclusion. Or perhaps, he was trying to deceive himself from the scale of his own sin by acting brash.
He did not really understand. What he did realize was that he had just lost something precious.
That was Myuri herself, of course, but also the enthusiasm he had to be someone who lived in good faith following the teachings of God.
Though blood had rushed to his head, he still acted so selfishly toward the girl who had always looked up to him. There had not been the slightest glimmer of righteous faith in his mind.
He looked away from the darkness Myuri disappeared into and stared up silently at the banner of the Church. Up until now, it had always seemed like a strong crest that he could rely on when things were rough, but now it simply showed him how small a man he really was.
For the first time in his life, Col wished to disappear.
Then came the sound of the door creeping open. Perhaps Myuri had left, or maybe she was already on her way back? He hoped for the best, and for a brief moment his pain eased slightly, but it was a number of men who poured in. They wore armor on their bodies and several of them held shields.
It did not take long for him to realize that was only because it was proper etiquette to keep blades sheathed in the chapel.
“So you’re the rat from Winfiel.”
From between the knights emerged the wealthy merchant, who had been on the p
alanquin and wearing clothes that made him look like a ball of fur.
He signaled the closest knights, and the ones with shields surrounded Col. There was no point in fighting back, and beyond the crowd, he could see knights flanking Myuri, holding her in place, though she had not been tied.
Autumn had likely been the one to inform them, but Col did not feel anger nor despair.
“If you behave, we won’t hurt you. We wish to proceed peacefully.”
Col had not inherited the blood of wolves like Myuri; he had no fangs and claws with which to fight nor the will to use them. Really, he thought if he could trade his life in return for a chance to send Myuri back to Nyohhira safely, then he was fine with that.
He turned around, and the merchant nodded, satisfied.
“Good to see you’re reasonable. We’ll let you go if you stay put here for a while. Details of our negotiations will pass through word of mouth among the fishermen regardless. If anything, letting you go will be a display of our leniency.”
The knights pulled him up by the arms.
The merchant studied him from head to toe before snorting.
“Winfiel’s people have many talents. Bring him,” he commanded the knights, then turned on his heel and exited the chapel.
Myuri did not so much as glance at him, nor did she reach for the pouch of wheat around her neck.
If they let her go safely, Col would be happy.
Myuri would return to Nyohhira. And sometimes, she would venture outside the village by herself.
Then, what about himself?
What should he believe in? What should he live for?
The snowfall grew stronger and stronger.
A knight murmured to himself, “It’ll be a blizzard.”
As they had promised, they did not treat him roughly. Col was thrown into the treasure repository within the chapel, then locked inside with plenty of blankets and water. Without any windows, the room was pitch-black, and once the knight who locked the door had left, silence enveloped him.
It probably would not be until the next morning that Yosef would know what had transpired. When he did not return to the house, Yosef would understand that something had happened in the church. But even then, Yosef had no power to free Col from this place, and it would likely be difficult to leave by boat.
In the meanwhile, the archbishop and Autumn would finalize their talks, collect people from the various islands, then put them on that massive ship as slaves. In exchange, the islands would earn gold and a brief period of relief.
But what would peace for the islands be like if earned with such methods?
Did Autumn consider this a good thing? Was it another form faith could take?
As Col pondered that, he laughed to himself inside. No matter how many times he thought about this, it was never anything more than playing pretend.
There was no trace of Myuri, who should have been with him, as though she had melted away into the darkness.
He wondered if this was another kind of dream, and he was sinking deep into its depths.
That, however, was nothing more than wallowing in self-pity. It was merely an attempt to escape how horribly he had treated Myuri and all his wretchedness. That was no different from hoping to wake up and find her sitting at the edge of the bed, combing his hair.
What he should be doing now is trying to search for any form of her in the darkness.
If not, he felt like he would never be able to see her again.
“…”
But he had no idea how he should call out to her. Though the scripture was filled with the words of God, he could not think of a single one that he could use.
He wanted to devour himself in his misery. Embracing the darkness, he felt like he was about to cry uncontrollably, but then no tears came.
He did not know how much time had passed, but he suddenly heard footsteps. They were not metallic but that of soft leather shoes that walked listlessly and somewhat uncertainly. They stopped several times and sometimes turned back. But the noise did eventually draw near to the repository, and there was the sound of a key in the lock.
“Are you all right?”
It was Reicher.
“The knights were talking about an agent from the kingdom who had been caught, so I thought perhaps…”
Reicher spoke quickly as he continued glancing back at the chapel entrance.
“I have no way to know for what reason you are working for the kingdom. But if you pity me, then please hear my plea.”
Col was confused for a moment because it was none other than Reicher who opened the door to the treasure repository, where he was being kept. So then why was Reicher practically begging him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
But he then realized what Reicher had unlocked was really his own heart.
“Please report to the kingdom about the negotiations with the archbishop. The snow will swell with the coming wind and become a blizzard. It will be difficult to get to the open waters off the shores of Caeson for a few days. But if you send out a boat tonight and sneak among the narrow passages between islands, then the islands will block the wind and you may be able to get south somehow. If it goes well, then you will have a week’s head start on the archbishop’s ship. You can gather reinforcements and wait for them in the southern sea routes.”
As Reicher rambled on, Col could see that he, too, clung to his hopeful imagination.
He was met with an ugly reality that could not be erased by drink every day, so he had no choice.
“So please save the people on the ship.”
Col could not see it going so well, unfortunately. If a kingdom ship attacked one the archbishop rode on, then it would be an unquestionable act of war. This was not something to be carried out lightly.
But the reality was that Reicher had opened the door for him. And Yosef had said earlier he might be able to send out a boat. Nothing would happen if he stayed here. So he nodded and took Reicher’s hand.
“Come with me. We will leave this island.”
They were the same. Both trapped by the island, a shadow that could not move.
Reicher, however, suddenly smiled and shook his head.
“It would be quite a mess if I left. I pardoned myself from the banquet by saying I was headed for the privy. Go quickly.”
Reicher looked at him and gave him a troubled smile.
“I’ve always wanted to try saving someone.”
As grief welled up in his heart, Col embraced Reicher and patted the priest’s back.
He turned around and found Myuri standing there, staring at her feet.
“May God watch over you.”
It was not meant for anyone in particular, nor did he know if the prayer would help at all.
They left the treasure repository and hid among the commotion of the banquet.
Reicher quickly vanished, and Col could not call out for him.
That was what traveling was all about. He knew that.
“Let’s go.”
He knew she would not respond, but he said so anyway and walked off. Myuri followed him obediently. No matter how much it bothered her, she would have to take Yosef’s boat to return to Nyohhira.
They wove through the drunk men and the women who danced with them, eventually reaching the gate. The guard was drinking alone, greeting them with a look of mild surprise, but did not say anything in particular.
The snow beneath their feet was unstable like sand. They slipped and slid as they walked through it, almost like the snow was ridiculing their hurried steps. His breath quickly grew short, but he did not fall behind Myuri the way he did when they descended the mountain. They had to keep moving forward. There was no point in living otherwise. He endured his regret and sadness and stepped forward with all his strength.
They arrived at the port, where the wind howled at them even if they stood still. The snow stung their faces like flying stones. Waves crashing in from the sea echoed loudly, though he could hear the cre
aking of the wood on the ships and pier. They headed toward Yosef’s relatives’ house, where they found him by the hearth, warming his hands. When he looked at them, the tiredness in his eyes was replaced by a glinting light.
“We need a boat.”
“Leave it to me.”
He did not hesitate. He dumped some liquor into the fire, and it blazed strongly like a beacon.
Col undressed and quickly changed. He gathered their things and hefted the pack onto his back. For a moment, he wondered how much silver he should leave them, but it might only cause the women trouble if there was evidence that they had significant ties to these outsiders. So in the end, he left nothing as he exited the house.
They headed to the port in the wind and snow, and Yosef, who had left before them, was standing at the pier, beckoning to them.
The ramp had been set up to the boat, and there was a wavering light on deck.
“Heh-heh, this reminds me of when the Church attacked long ago,” Yosef reminisced and put them on board before he himself jumped on, then removed the ramp. He then stuck his head down the stairs leading below deck and yelled.
“All right you bastards! Show them the spirit of the island people!!”
According to the common sense Col had gained during his travels, setting sail at night was an act of suicide. Even in an emergency, boats would not set out without at least the light of the moon.
But not only was the moon nowhere to be seen, they were trying to set out in heavy snowfall and howling winds. The waves rose high, and the boat was already rocking even in port. Their confidence was not based solely on the fact that everything would be fine simply because these were familiar seas they lived in. With their courage, they were indomitable sailors.
Col finally understood why the kingdom and Church were serious in their considerations about whether they should ally with the islanders. They were survivors and warriors who fought with the overpowering being that was the sea. Like jumping behind enemy lines under a rain of arrows, it was not an easy task to set sail at night on white-crested waves.
By giving money, the people could prepare ships.
But bravery was different.
“Sail!” someone yelled, and the oars slithered out from below.
Wolf & Parchment, Volume 2 Page 20