Chapter 3: Moderation, Humility, and Diligence
Natsuki Subaru held the gospel in his hands and read it over and over with awe. Apart from the fact that it was written in Japanese, something he never thought he'd see again, the book seemed to know everything about him. He flipped page after page, but they were all blank; only the first two pages held wisdom.
Wisdom that came in the form of orders.
"Natsuki Subaru's Gospel"
"Natsuki Subaru will acquire this book with help from the merchant Iseri Kyoden. Kyoden will be arrested by guards and denotate a fire crystal, providing a diversion for Natsuki to escape unnoticed. Natsuki will make his way to a winery at the entrance to the noble's district. Here, he will meet an employee named Allen and recite the following phrase: 'I want Gusteko's finest'"
It didn't make any damn sense! How did the book know what happened? Why was it speaking to him? Why him!? Even worse, how could he know the book, this "gospel," is trustworthy!? Wait, there were more words now…
"Natsuki may wonder about the gospel's truths. He need not worry. The gospel will guide him to his desired future. If he follows its instructions, he will achieve his goals."
"For Natsuki Subaru is now a witch cultist."
In the slums, where Iseri's carriage/store remains without its owner, three figures were visible.
One of them was a dirty-looking boy of about 14 years of age.
As he sat on the carriage's opening, he dangled his feet and looked down at the two other figures: city guards, both completely intact and unconscious on the floor. Despite being unharmed, however, the guards were not breathing. In fact, there was no indication at all that they are alive.
The boy raised his hands and laughed. It was a strange sound, more akin to the sound a beast would make when it finds worthy prey. That sound - paired with the boy's unnaturally sharp teeth – gave the impression that he is not fully human.
"Aah," the boy muttered. "Mama told us that there would be a fair amount of food here, but we only see these two guards…and they were fast meals…"
The boy pouted and shook his head. "What a shame. And here we thought that this…slum…would be able to satisfy our bizarre eating. Clearly, it just wasn't meant to be."
With a sigh, the boy reached into the carriage and grabbed two objects: one, a plain black book, and the other a small staff with a crystal at the tip. With both objects secured, the boy hopped off the carriage and began walking southward. As he walked, the boy thought of his brother. They had spoken about the gospel's newest revelation, mentioning the appearance of a new Archbishop. Despite his apparent lack of enthusiasm at receiving a new comrade, the boy did desire to meet this individual.
What would be their title? Oh, that's right, the seat of Pride remained vacant. Curse that Stride, dying so easily and foolishly; but the boy supposed that was the pinnacle of pride. Ignoring what others thought was a core tenet of the now-deceased Prideful Archbishop. The boy could comprehend that sentiment. Whenever he was hungry, which was most of the time, he disregarded others' thoughts and sought something with which to fill his stomach.
There were only three people who could deny him his meal. First was Mama, whose orders were absolute. If she ordered the boy to starve to death, he would do so. That would surely prove his love for her. Then there were his two other siblings. His brother often scolded him for eating recklessly, always claiming that quality preceded quantity, and that the boy should concern himself with finding more gourmet foods. The boy's sister, however, rarely spoke to him.
Given, his sister did lack a corporeal form, but she could at least speak through one of them once in a while.
Once more, the boy sighed. Whatever Mama wanted this staff for, it better be worthwhile.
As soon as he got it back to her, he was going out for a feast.
Roswaal re-read his Tome for what must have been the 7th time in an hour. It had to be a joke, maybe his Teacher was having a good day in the afterlife and decided to play a prank on her student. Or maybe he misread…yes, that's it.
Despite what the Tome said, Roswaal refused to believe that the Witch Cult was hunting down Natsuki Subaru. It simply left him with the worst-case scenario: the kid's time-warping power was out of his control, and now the most dangerous individuals in the world were after the only person that could bring Roswaal's Teacher back.
"Ros, been a long time."
The Margrave looked up from his book. In front of him was a man in his late twenties, with a yellow-ish beard and hair of the same color. The red suit he wore denoted his importance, and the symbol of the Merchants' Guild on it depicted the man's affiliation. Of course, much like the clownish Margrave, this appearance was just a cover to what really lay beneath.
"Ru~ssell, how are you? I trust you've be~en well?"
"Yes, indeed I have. Say, my assistant told me you had an urgent message of sorts." Russell smiled and asked, "Is it one I need to take as 'Russell the treasurer" or "Russell the spy?'"
"It is a matter of both," Roswaal responded, noticeably leaving behind his usual speech mannerism. "There is someone I need your help finding."
"To ask for my help seems excessive, but I will grant it, Ros. Anyway, if you don't mind me asking, what did this person do to catch the eye of the great Court Mage?"
"This individual may be an important member of the Witch Cult, and I have it on good authority that he possesses an unrivaled power that matches that of Greed."
Russell shuddered to think such a person existed. The Cult's representative of Greed had taken down a Vollachian garrison, thousands of troops, and the notorious Kurgan; the world could not handle two of them.
Roswaal continued, "When you find this man, I want you to deliver him to me. Do NOT order your people to kill him."
"Ros, to capture a man of Greed's power would be virtually impossible. I'll do my best, but if it's between letting him go or putting him down, you know what I'll pick."
"I suppose it would be for the best. The man is young, about 17 years of age, and has black hair."
"Black hair? He's Gustekan?"
"Not that I know of."
With this, Russell nodded. If Roswaal's words were true, then this meant that the Kingdom could come under attack by the Cult soon enough. Part of him wondered where the Mage got all this information from, but now was not the time to ask.
Now was the time for action.
"How irritating. So what if some commoner blew himself up? It's not like he's going to do so again."
"That is true, Lady Barielle, but we fear that this may be an attack by the Witch Cult. Travel through this area is restricted until we can ascertain whether or not they will attempt another strike."
Priscilla Barielle huffed. Clearly, the man in front of her knew nothing of tactics. He may have been a knight, but what of it? Rank doesn't equal intelligence. Priscilla's last husband, Leip, was a clear example of that. The man might've been some bigshot noble in Lugnica, but all he had in his mind was money, women, and drinks.
Who cared if the Witch Cult decided to finally drag their sorry selves out of the shadows? If they even attempted to as so much graze a hair on her body, she'd show them how Vollachians dealt with insults. And if her foolish bodyguard could not stop them, she'd turn them to ashes herself.
Huffing in annoyance, she looked around. There were various others all around the street, clearly waiting for the guards to clear the avenue for travel. Priscilla made a note to remember this event; she would get the guards and knights onto more important matters when she became queen.
"Hey, Princess, don't you think it'd be faster to just go around? I mean, there's a bridge a couple of steps behind us, we can take it an-"
"Quiet, Al. Mineself wishes to travel upon this road, and that is what mineself shall do."
"Just saying, Princess. Schult must be feeling lonely…"
Al fiddled with a strap on his helmet. He already didn't like the feeling of so many eyes on him, but he hated it even more when the crowd that gathered around the scene was completely looking at Priscilla like if she was to blame for these delays.
She was about to raise her hand and call the same knight she spoke with 5 times already, probably to chastise him more, when a couple bumped their way to the front of the crowd and stood directly next to her.
Looking at both Priscilla and Al, one a baroness and the other looking like a bandit, the newcomers seemed to be their exact opposites: a man and a woman of average height, with average proportions, dressed in absolutely average, middle-class clothing. The woman was a blonde with unremarkable features, while the man sported all-white hair and a single blue earring on his right ear.
"I cannot believe this," the man commented, most likely to his companion but in a voice loud enough for all to hear. "I take my time to come here, to stroll through this city, I go out of my way to use these roads, and they are closed? What disrespect! I would like to speak with whoever caused all this! Whoever they are, they should surely know this infringes on my right to travel freely! Am I right, 184?"
The woman, without a hint of expression, nodded and responded, "Yes, Dearest Husband."
Priscilla appeared to be ignoring them, so Al decided to take matters into his own hands. Stepping a bit closer to the couple, he spoke to the man. "Say, uh, do you happen to know what caused all this? I just heard a guy blew up but I kinda find it unlikely."
Al hoped this was enough to dissuade the man from complaining further. Most of the bystanders had quieted at learning that the scene they were looking at was most likely an attack by fanatical maniacs.
Clearly, the man was not like the other bystanders.
"Blew up? Really? Why I happen to find that quite absurd! If one wishes to take their own life, there are far cleaner ways to do so, and out of all of those, this person chose the one that most inconvenienced me! Not that I condone such acts, mind you, but I cannot stand by while one man's folly disrupts traffic like this. And what are the knights even doing? Why do they even cordon off this area and prevent passage? There's no sense to it! The man is dead already, I hardly doubt he will kill himself again!"
In his peripheral vision, Al could see Priscilla smirk behind her fan. She must find it extremely amusing to encounter someone much like her, but Al was unsure how much more he could take. Priscilla already drove him crazy at times, and if she somehow took a liking to this man, Al would be the one to blow himself up, for all the good that'd do.
Still grinning, Priscilla spoke to the man. "Why that's exactly what I said. That damned knight just keeps saying that this will take 'some time,' but I have better things to do than stand here."
Leaning in close, Al whispered in her ear and said, "If you have more important things to do, why don't we take the bridge, Princess?"
She smacked him with her fan.
Seeing this display, the plain-looking man laughed. His eyes settled on Priscilla's (Al was thankful the man wasn't looking at her chest) and…
Al barely registered it, but the look in the man's eyes was inhuman. His smile, which previously seemed normal, now took on a demented appearance, much too similar to that of a child finding a new toy.
"Say," the man commented. "I do not believe we have introduced ourselves to one another. I think it is common sense to state one's name when starting an acquaintanceship, is it not? If it isn't then I regret to say that my view of the world is misaligned with what it considers 'natural.' That is why I try to introduce myself as often as possible; so the other party, no matter how shy they may be, has a chance to feel relaxed and comfortable around me. The last thing I want is to cause a misunderstanding, you see."
Once more, Priscilla gave Al a sidelong glance and hid her fan…where it definitely did not belong. It was almost like she was telling him, "This white-haired weirdo is bound to amuse me."
Still, Al could not shake the feeling that something about the man and his wife was off. Something unnatural. He was trying to put it into words when the man put his hand over his heart and spoke,
"My name is Regulus Corneas, pleased to meet you."
Back in the Mathers manor, Emilia was trying her absolute hardest to study. She still had two books to finish reading, and the royal selection was bound to start at any moment. For all anyone knew, the Council of Wisemen could drop by tomorrow and ask her to present herself posthaste.
Puck was always telling her to take it slow and study only for as long as she felt comfortable. It would be good to appear in front of the nation as a well-studied young woman, but if she kept up this pace of studying for most of the day and barely taking breaks, the only thing the Council would see was a burnt-out girl who looked like she hadn't slept in days.
It was, however, also Puck that kept bringing her books from the Forbidden Library. Emilia was a tad confused about the name; the library was forbidden, yet Puck could go in and out as he pleased. Roswaal had also been there various times, and that boy, Subaru, had apparently displeased Beatrice by finding the Library's entrance shortly after his arrival in the mansion.
She wondered if maybe, the next time Beatrice came to dinner, she could ask her to let her visit the Library sometime. A place filled with knowledge and all sorts of topics? As annoying as Emilia might find studying, she believed she was bound to find at least a single book that sparked her interest.
Looking down at the history book on her table, she wondered: why did politics have to be so boring?
This was probably the fourth chapter on Vincent Vollachia and his rise to the throne. The whole "might makes right" ideology that man and his followers shared made Emilia instantly dislike them. As queen, she would have to find a way to try to change their ways. It might make people dislike her even more, but she could not sit by idly as the neighboring nation slaughtered itself for fun.
Once more, her gaze wandered beyond the book's excruciatingly mundane descriptions of Vollachian politics. Zikr Osman this, Cecils Segmunt that. If she read a single page more, she'd go insane.
Sitting on her desk was the small black jewel that had gotten her this far. The insignia that, sometime ago, had qualified her to become a candidate for the throne. The very object that had given her hope of freeing the people of her homeland.
The very same item that had gotten her to that loot house slightly more than a week ago.
Emilia cursed her own naivety. Of course the only person who would ever want to help her is a witch cultist. How could she not have seen it before? She was told she was a splitting image of the feared Witch, but would it really drive that boy, Subaru, to such extremes?
She didn't really believe it. On one hand, what other explanation was there? He just wanted to help her for no reason? As if. But, on the other hand, Puck and Beatrice had apparently not found any malicious intentions within the boy. Whoever he truly was, he was not looking to harm any of them.
That only made his attack on Rem all the more incomprehensible. Was he hiding his malice somehow? Or was he actually acting out of self-defense. Rem had said that Subaru attacked her, but she never told anyone what she was doing out in the woods at that time…
Now was not the time to ponder about that. The selection could start at any moment, and the better prepared Emilia was, the better her chances of winning. By studying, she was a step closer to saving her people.
Focusing on the book, she turned to the next chapter, one about Stride Vollachia.
Outside the capital, within a small cave where mabeasts once resided, a group of hooded individuals gathered and knelt in front of their leader. Their leader, in turn, looked through a plain black book and swiftly turned the pages. He was looking for a specific passage, something about…
He found it.
"A potential Archbishop is in the capital of Lugnica. He shall be tested to find his worthiness to join the ranks of the Witch Cult. Sloth is ordered to not interfere."
He couldn't believe it! Not interfere! How!? One so loved by the Witch as to become one of her most devout followers wandered the capital, surely looking for ways to rend, cut, lacerate, wound, and tear the city apart.
Was this why he was ordered to stay away? Was this new follower such a diligent soul that he made the Witch's most trusted, most loved, most adored, most admired, most esteemed enforcer look like a simpleton? Like an unforgivably slothful existence!?
His brain trembled!
How!? How could such a man, so cherished by the sacred Satella, exist in this world!? Even more, how could he have been so lazy, so careless, so inattentive, so lethargic, so slothful as to not seek out this man!?
Surely the Witch would be angered by his passiveness. He had to fix this, to find a way to demonstrate his love for the silver-haired half-elf who he held so dear in his heart. Yes, he had something in mind.
The ground dragon capital! Flanders, home to the most diligent beings in existence! It was only a fitting target for the Witch's most diligent fanatic to raze.
Truly, his brain trembled.
Natsuki Subaru stood outside the winery. At first glance, it resembled a restaurant from his home. Was it…oh, yeah, it looked like an Olive Garden.
Without further ado, he stepped inside and looked around. True to its title, there were all sorts of wines to be found. All of them, of course, had names he could not read. Curse his illiteracy!
"Can I help you?"
The man behind the counter smiled warmly at Subaru. If it wasn't for the fact that the man had dark red hair - much like the color of blood - and normal looking eyes, he might've passed off as Subaru's older brother. With an almost unnoticeable smile, Subaru responded, "Are you Allen? I, uh, want Gusteko's finest…"
Allen's smile faded and, in its place, a look of dismissiveness overcame his face. "You're out of luck, we're all outta Gustekan wines today."
Subaru stared blankly. This wasn't in the book! It was like stumbling onto a secret encounter in a game! "Well can you…check in the back...?"
Allen's shook his head and the smile returned to some capacity. "Oh, I'm just messing with ya, lighten up. The gospel said you'd come. Your pal's waiting in the basement storage room."
"My 'pal?'"
"Yeah, I love that guy. He has good taste in wine, that's for sure. He comes here once in a while to do some tasting and leaves. No one thinks too much of it, really, he's like family by now!"
"Uh huh…say, you guys are all cu-"
"Followers of the gospel? Yes. I prefer that term. 'Cultist' sounds so damn ominous you know? Anyway, you better get down there. If there's something that guy hates, it's wasting time."
Thanking Allen for the advice, he stepped through some doors into what he assumed was an "employees only" area. Most gave him bad looks, but they soon eased off when he showed them the book. One of them even accompanied him to the basement stairs and opened the door with a bow.
As he stepped into the basement, Subaru definitely felt the atmosphere change. He suddenly felt like a clueless protagonist in a horror movie, groping around the dark and trying to escape before the killer caught him. It was only for a few seconds, however, as a light soon appeared in the form of a lantern.
And holding it was a young, dirty-looking young boy with sharp teeth and long hair.