< 126. Butterfly’s Dream (4) >
*
Fabiano wasn’t injured at all. In the midst of seventy-three fierce battles, Fernandez hadn’t managed to land a single effective blow on him with his bare hands.
It wasn’t like he was trying to subdue him in the first place. Fabiano, overwhelmed by fatigue and helplessness for who knows how many times, clenched and unclenched his fist, gazing at Fernandez leaning at the alley’s entrance.
“Shall we make it a hundred?”
“Huff… Huff…”
It felt like his lungs were tearing apart. There was definitely a sense of fighting during the battle. The sensation of techniques clashing, of flesh being struck and pushed away. Yet, at the crucial moment, as if time had reversed, Fernandez appeared unscathed at the far end of the alley.
“Cowardly… brat!”
“How can a mage expect to win fairly against an Inquisition Officer?”
“Words…!”
“Anyway, it’s a waste of time.”
Dawn was breaking in the distance. The fierce battle that started at midnight had continued until morning. Fabiano, panting, saw the autumn sky tinged with blue.
“Were the villagers… in on it too…!”
“I put them to sleep. They’ll sleep soundly for a day.”
The morning in the rural area starts early. It was impossible that no one woke up during such a noisy fight all night. Fabiano swallowed dryly and glared at Fernandez.
Fernandez shrugged his shoulders and said,
“If you have no intention to fight anymore, shall we talk now?”
“…What do you want to say?”
“An alliance proposal.”
“…What?”
Fabiano glared at him with the eyes of a wounded beast. Fernandez slowly approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He could feel Fabiano’s muscles tense up under his hand.
If this guy lands a blow, there’s no dodging it. But he knew Fabiano wouldn’t attack anymore.
“I’ve turned my back on dark magic. Well, to be precise. I’ve turned my back on those you call heretics, apostates, trash. So, we have a common enemy.”
“Should I believe that?”
“If you wish, I can swear on my magic circuit. Or, if there’s another way, I’m willing to follow it.”
“…Why?”
Fabiano was confused. Was this dark mage trying to trick him again? Or, to corrupt him? During his long service, there were countless Inquisition Officers who had fallen to demons and apostatized.
What if he became one of them? There could be nothing more dishonorable. But, was there another way? As he pondered, Fernandez chuckled and removed his hand from his shoulder. He spoke as if reading Fabiano’s thoughts.
“Right. Is there another way? Whether you believe me or not. You can’t kill me.”
“I don’t trust you. Dark mage.”
“Exactly. But I won’t kill you.”
“What do you gain? What do you gain by betraying your heretic scum?”
At that, Fernandez’s eyes lowered.
“One of two things. A happy life, or a grand thought experiment.”
If this moment is reality, then after succeeding, I could settle down, live peaceful and happy days, and end my life in tranquility.
But if not, if this is all my dream, an illusion, a grand illusion created by Mumto. Then this would be a kind of thought experiment. A realistic methodology research on how to exterminate demons.
“So. Convey my opinion to the Inquisition Office and the Papacy. Go on. I’ll let you live without doing anything. And next time, come with Zephis or Beorn.”
“…!!!”
Fabiano was startled, looking at Fernandez as if seeing a ghost. He stumbled over his words, then turned his head.
Fernandez watched Fabiano’s slumped back as he left, crossing his arms. At least one thing was different from his previous life: Aria’s family and her hometown hadn’t burned.
And he had somewhat lessened the pain of life that Aria would endure.
‘I bear it all. Aria. Your pain, your sorrow, your grief. Even if this is an illusion, and all of this is just my self-consolation. At least let it be my atonement.’
*
Aria opened the window and dusted off the sill. She kept coughing deliberately, as if wanting to be heard, stirring milk into her teacup while watching Fernandez.
Fernandez sipped milk-mixed black tea while flipping through an old book. His posture and appearance were quite annoying. He leisurely turned the pages, humming.
“You… you… wicked uncle.”
“Hey, Aria. My good disciple. Respect and reverence for your teacher have become increasingly hard to find lately. In my time…”
“Ugh!!”
Aria threw the duster on the floor and sat across from Fernandez. Without looking at her, he flicked his finger.
-Drip.
Then, warm milk filled the empty cup. Aria huffed, sighed deeply, and drank the milk.
“Right, milk is good for growth.”
“I’m twenty-three now, you know?”
“When I was twenty-three, I grew three centimeters a year.”
“Eek!”
Aria huffed and drank all the milk. Fernandez chuckled and closed the book. He gently stroked Aria’s soft hair.
Aria blushed and slightly bowed her head.
He spoke in a small, creeping voice.
“Why on earth?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why me… No, a guardian? Teacher. Where do you want to send me?”
“Well, somewhere you can get a better education?”
Aria looked up at him with sad eyes. Fernandez’s last remaining conscience, so to speak, did a big leap.
“It might sound a bit ridiculous coming from me, but Aria, I have connections with quite famous scholars in the empire. If you study under my name, you could become a great pharmacist, alchemist, or even a mage if you wish.”
“Are they better than you?”
“No?”
“Then why?”
“They are people who can teach better than me in a better environment.”
Fernandez laughed arrogantly. Aria silently looked at him for a moment, then lowered her head to look at the empty teacup.
-Slurp.
The cup filled up again before her eyes. Warm milk swirled inside, and from the middle, chocolate cream bloomed like a flower.
“Want another cup? Isn’t this what you liked?”
“…When I was about fourteen.”
“I first had milk when I was thirty-nine, and since then, I can’t resist milk.”
The meeting in the barn. The image of Aria approaching Fernandez, worn out from long pursuit and escape, and handing him warm milk was drawn on the milk’s surface along with the chocolate cream.
Aria paused for a moment, watching the small puppet show happening inside the teacup. Without lifting her head, she spoke.
“Why do you want to send me away?”
“I thought I told you the reason.”
“Are you tired of me?”
“Even if a lifetime passes, how could that be?”
“Or do you not need me anymore…”
“You are not a necessity to me, Aria.”
At his words, Aria looked at Fernandez with a hurt expression, her eyes wide. Seeing her on the verge of tears, Fernandez slowly lowered his hand. Tap, the sound of lightly flicking a finger.
-Slurp.
Bubbles formed, and the chocolate cream bloomed like a flower. There was no scent, but it was a flower she knew well. Freesia. Fernandez quietly spoke to Aria, who was staring blankly at the teacup.
“You are enough for me.”
“…That’s cheating. Really.”
“So, stay away for now. Just for a while.”
“How long will it take?”
“Well, it’s my first time doing this, so it’s hard to be sure…”
Fernandez, blushing, watched Aria quietly caressing the rim of the teacup, then turned his head towards the door.
-Knock knock.
“Mr. Page, are you there?”
“Will you come in?”
“How about you come out?”
“Ha, wise choice.”
He didn’t want to step into the mage’s workshop, that was the implication. Fernandez chuckled and slowly rose from his chair. As Aria tried to stand up too, he waved her off.
‘I don’t know how long it will take, Aria. But I just hope this will be worth it.’
Fernandez slowly opened the door. An elderly man with a cane stood at the doorway, looking at him.
Sharp eyes and a sturdy build, despite his hunched back, the old man was a head taller than Fernandez. And the familiar scar and expression.
‘You’ve aged a lot too, Zephis Shiravast.’
A Diemonica surviving to this age. Quite a rare talent. Bringing no attendants or guards must symbolize his pride and confidence. Fernandez smiled, feeling like he was meeting an old friend.
“I heard you wanted to see me, Mr. Page.”
“Care for a cup of tea?”
“If it’s not tea served by you in your house.”
“Then let’s go to the church.”
“…I didn’t expect you to want that?”
“I don’t want to, but if we can’t finish our conversation standing here, I’ll have to bend.”
Since you won’t bend. As Fernandez laughed and spoke, Zephis shrugged his shoulders, looking surprised.
*
The church’s pastor handed over the teacups with a sour expression and quickly left. A wise move. His temperament wouldn’t withstand participating in a meeting between the village’s most troublesome pharmacist and a high-ranking Inquisition Officer dispatched from the Inquisition Office.
-Thud.
The door closed with a dry sound. In the priest’s room, Fernandez sat leisurely, crossing his legs and sipping the thick, bland tea. Watching him drink, Zephis followed suit and glared at him.
“Mr. Page. Or should I call you Faijashi? Heretic. What reason do I have to keep you alive?”
“Curiosity, I suppose. You know the high-ups in the Inquisition Office, you’ve consistently spared Inquisition Officers, didn’t corrupt them, didn’t infuse them with magic, didn’t cast spells on them.”
Fernandez put down his cup and slowly bowed his head, approaching Zephis. Zephis only twitched his eyebrows, maintaining his posture as he looked down at him.
“Why? Why on earth? Why did that heretic mage spare the Inquisition Officers? No traces of magic, no bewitchment, just genuinely wanted to talk? Why? What does he want? Haven’t you thought about it?”
“Suppose so. What changes?”
-Rustle.
Zephis took out a long cylindrical mechanical device from his pocket and placed it on the table. Fernandez glanced at it and stiffened.
“Dwarven Thunder Thrower? I heard it wasn’t in the Inquisition Office?”
“Well, turns out it is.”
“Damn Martirio brothers.”
“…What are you?”
Fernandez grumbled, recalling the stubborn Enmagika brothers who insisted until the end that the Dwarven Thunder Thrower wasn’t there. Seeing this, Zephis’s face hardened.
“The Martirio brothers died in battle five years ago. And the fact that those brothers managed the armory in their lifetime is information a heretic shouldn’t know. What are you?”
“It’s a long story. Hard to believe. Are you okay with that?”
“You’d better make me believe. If I can’t believe you, it’s just nonsense spouted by a heretic, and what an Inquisition Officer who hears such nonsense should do is… very simple.”
Zephis threateningly aimed the barrel of the gun at Fernandez, jerking it slightly. Despite the rude gesture, Fernandez didn’t lose his smile.
“Let’s believe there’s a common ground between us, Brother Zephis.”
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