In a surprising twist, it had been Myuri’s mother, the wisewolf, who had encouraged her to force Col to take her along on this journey.

  Myuri thought of the arrangement as her being the smart little sister who needed to stay by her foolish brother’s side to make sure he did not face too much hardship out in that harsh world, and Col, too, had assumed that Holo the Wisewolf was doing the exact same.

  But Col had a feeling he finally understood the truth hiding in that flaxen fur.

  If Myuri were to stay by his side, perhaps she would learn there were only so many things that her fangs and claws could do. She would have to learn that no matter how fast she ran, there was no point if her companions could not keep up with her. She had no one to run alongside her in this world, so relying on her natural weapons would only win her solitude.

  “But…” Myuri squeezed his hand. “How can Lutia hold back like that?”

  Considering Myuri had endured ten whole days of not going to save the kids, and then eventually ran from the chapel shouting insult, her question was genuine.

  They had met plenty of nonhumans on their journey thus far. They were all firmly entrenched in the modern human world, but part of them always seemed to be hiding something.

  But Lutia had firmly submerged herself into human society, and she was fighting hard against a storm within its confines.

  She must have gnashed her teeth countless times at how powerless the human body could be; for Myuri, who was quick to growl and bare her fangs when she was upset, that patience was almost terrifying.

  “It is because Miss Lutia is kind.”

  “………”

  Col understood that in the hard struggle to obtain a degree, there were deep-rooted social injustices throughout the city. But Lutia, who knew a life where her hair would be combed for her by the fire, where people treated her with kindness, believed that solving problems by force was misguided. And that was why she was trying to pass on how her lord and lady had treated her to the people she had come to know, and why she went around helping the poor students.

  Lutia had often called them her pack.

  She was only one half of a fist taller than Myuri, but she could see much farther.

  Col wished Myuri would watch her and learn a thing or two.

  And Col himself wanted to do all he could to help her.

  As that thought crossed his mind, he realized Myuri was looking up at him.

  “I think you need to learn not just kindness from her,” she said. “But strength, too.”

  “Ah…”

  Dumbfounded, Col could say nothing in return, and he immediately regretted what he said. Now was not the time for him to wish Myuri would learn—he, too, was rather inexperienced.

  The difference between his way of thinking and Le Roi’s was proof of that.

  “…It is thanks to your point of view that I feel as though I have learned many things.”

  The reason Myuri’s eyes went wide was perhaps out of surprise that he had taken her comment so earnestly. The wolf pup grinned, rubbed her cheek on his arm, then squeezed her arms around him.

  “Okay, so on the really big street, there’s a place that serves really tasty-looking chicken.”

  Had they been alone, her tail would have been out and wagging eagerly.

  Col gave an exasperated sigh; he was relieved, though, that she did not draw out the issue of Lutia.

  “Do not overeat.”

  “Okaaay.”

  Col donned a weary smile—it was always her acknowledgments that were above par. But Myuri’s head suddenly snapped to Col’s chest.

  “Hmm… You smell like Lutia.”

  She was like a city gate guard who would not tolerate smuggling under any circumstances.

  “Oh, it’s a letter. A response came from one of the scholars from whom we are asking for assistance. I’ll be penning a response to try to convince him.”

  Others had told him before their departure that he should fight and test his skills.

  Myuri, too, recalled how he had been encouraged to do so; she sniffed the letter through his clothes, then huffed.

  “It doesn’t seem I’ll be able to hide anything from you, will I?”

  Even back in the Nyohhira bathhouse, the wisewolf was constantly hounding the former merchant for answers.

  “Hmph.”

  The little wolf gave one last proud sniff then puffed out her own chest. And then, once they returned to the Steel and Sheep after finishing lunch, Myuri came to a stop at the entrance.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Myuri stared hard into the building beyond the door, her expression twisted. She drew back her hand, which had been unusually glued to his this entire time, then folded her arms across her chest in objection as she looked to Col.

  “See? We didn’t have to send a letter after all.”

  “Hmm?”

  He was not sure what she was suddenly on about, but he had a feeling that Myuri had said something similar not long ago.

  “And…hmm. It smells like excited puppy in there.”

  Her nose twitched as she sniffed. Col wanted to ask her if she was talking about herself, but he swallowed it, pushed open the door, and then immediately understood what she meant.

  “Master Col!”

  The person sitting at a table in the quiet first-floor tavern stood with such energy that the chair almost fell backward.

  The escort, who they had gotten to know in their search for Jean, silently nodded in greeting.

  “Archivist Canaan…?”

  “How are things proceeding here? Oh, perhaps I should first—”

  Canaan was about to gleefully begin his rant, but his taciturn guard stopped him.

  “In the room.”

  Canaan, his face covered in the dust of the road, snapped back to reality. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, then adjusted his posture. Hyland had said that Canaan put on quite a show whenever he was in Col’s presence.

  And he had a feeling he understood why Myuri was always on edge when Canaan was complimenting him.

  “I have good news. Let us hurry to the room!” Canaan exclaimed, his eyes shining.

  Despite how overwhelmed he felt, Col thought he understood why Myuri called him a pup.

  The dirt of the road was clear on Canaan’s face, and as they made their way to the room, Col noted he was covered in mud up to his knees. They had likely made their way straight to Aquent despite a little bad weather; if anything, it was the stalwart guard who seemed to be more tired from traveling.

  They entered the room, and once Myuri opened the window, Canaan spoke.

  “The ecumenical council!”

  His energy reminded Col of when a horse-drawn cart almost ran into him on a street corner.

  The shine in Canaan’s eyes perhaps was a result of the exhaustion of travel turning into giddy excitement.

  Behind him, Myuri offered the guard a seat, and the guard accepted it, tired.

  Col likened himself to the man after Myuri had talked his ear off about her absurd stories, but Canaan’s gaze remained fixed on him.

  “The ecumenical council, Master Col,” Canaan spoke feverishly, making him seem all the younger. Col believed if Myuri had a twin, he would have been a lot like this.

  “…This does not sound like bad news,” Col said, in an attempt to calm him down first.

  But a broad smile crossed Canaan’s face. “Yes! It’s great news! I wanted to tell you as soon as possible!”

  Though they had traveled far southward from the Kingdom of Winfiel to Aquent, the distance to the land of the Holy See was much greater. It was not a distance to take lightly, so Canaan must have gotten quite a lot of information when he was over there.

  “The ecumenical council is really happening. It is almost certain to be held.”

  The ecumenical council made the biggest and most important decisions regarding the Church’s direction, said to be held only once every century. They would most likely be discussing the conflict within the Kingdom of Winfiel and how the Church was unfavorable in the public eye.

  But when Col thought about how he would be considered an enemy on such a stage, he knew that there was no such thing as being too careful.

  “I will need to confirm for myself it will not be bad news for me personally, however.”

  An ominous traveler came to the city of Rausbourne one day, invited the Twilight Cardinal to the ecumenical council, then refused to speak of anything else. For what reason would they invite an enemy to such an important meeting?

  No matter how much of a softhearted fool he was, Col did not expect those talks to be friendly.

  Canaan said, “The core of the Church is on the verge of collapse.”

  He himself was a lamb of God who sat within that core, and yet he spoke of its downfall with such delight.

  Col knew Canaan’s earnestness too well to think it a sinister, heretical thought.

  “As the scripture says, neither do men pour new wine into old wineskins. As evil crumbles away, God is giving us the perfect chance to rebuild anew!”

  “Ah…”

  Col’s gaze settled on Canaan’s calm guard. With his drink from Myuri in hand, he noticed Col looking at him, and he nodded.

  Col then heard something lumpy and hard move and give way—perhaps it was the sound of the wheels of fate beginning to turn. No—it was when he unconsciously gripped Canaan’s hands that he realized it was the sound of himself gulping.

  “Your struggle is bearing fruit, Master Col. The echoes of what you say is right has undoubtedly resounded across the mainland and struck a chord within many hearts,” Canaan said, and pulled a thin booklet from his breast pocket.

  It was a sheaf of paper, worn and tattered from constant reading and rereading.

  “This is the abridged version of your common-language translation of the scripture, one you were said to have so bravely distributed in town. I found countless copies of these on my various stops on the way back to the Holy See.”

  Strangely enough, information occasionally traveled faster than travelers themselves.

  The book was one that Col and Myuri distributed in their first fight against a local church, alongside Hyland and her help.

  The reason it had found its way so far south had to be because there were so many who truly believed the Church’s tyranny was wrong.

  Col had thought that perhaps his dream of fixing the Church was too big, that his fight could even be called reckless.

  But this journey has not been a waste.

  “Ahem!”

  As he and Canaan held hands, there came a loud and obvious cough. Col glanced over to see Myuri, wearing the face of a girl fed up with the boys, now of all times, leaning against the wall with a pout.

  “You must go to the ecumenical council, Master Col,” said the pious believer. “And you must be God’s iron hammer.”

  To destroy evil so that they could create something new and pure.

  “But we must be thorough in our preparations. If we let this chance slip away, it is unlikely we will ever get to rebuild the Church again. We cannot afford to fail.”

  Col turned to face Canaan, as though shaking off Myuri’s cold stare.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And when will you be leaving this city?”

  There was plenty they still had to prepare for this battle.

  What Canaan said was essentially telling him this fact. Col, however, began with, “Actually…” And proceeded to tell him their situation.

  The idea was to end the codependence of affluent students and greedy professors, and then pull up the entire academic system of Aquent by its roots. To do that, they would have to push new professors who sympathized with the idea of honorable poverty into the city’s professors’ guild.

  Though many people empathized with Lutia’s ideals, it was not so easy to implement in reality. How many out there would boldly make an entire guild their enemy, then teach poor students for free purely out of the selflessness of their heart? Especially when they could do the exact same job with rich students in exchange for generous remuneration for their lectures, receive large gifts upon conferment of degrees, and once their students inherited family estates or positions of import, there was a chance to be hired for a position that came with a high salary and even greater renown.

  Once Col was finished explaining everything to Canaan—besides the fact that Lutia was a wolf—Myuri brought up the food that had been made in the tavern kitchen for Canaan and the others. As Col was about to bite into the pork, still dripping with fat, Canaan slapped his hands to his knees and stood.

  “It won’t be a problem,” he said. “It shouldn’t be a problem,” he repeated, and then continued. “I have heard that there are rampant problems that hamper learning somewhat in these academic cities, but to think they have been so poisoned by such lowly ideals.”

  The way he placed his hand to his forehead and sighed came with an elegance that only those of noble birth had.

  That said, Col did not know why Canaan had the confidence to declare it not a problem. As he sat and worried if the gist of the situation truly gotten through to him, the boy said to be labeled a boy genius elaborated.

  “In that case, my colleagues would be more than happy to help.”

  “What?” Col asked before he caught himself, but he immediately understood what Canaan was thinking.

  That was because the boy who rushed on his journey, sullying his face, all so that he could deliver the good news as soon as possible, was on a family tree possessing boughs dotted with the names of past popes. And his job in the Curia was one where most of the academic knowledge collected.

  “You want someone who is willing to lecture without asking for payment instead of a professor sullied by greed, yes? In that case, there are plenty of candidates in our place of work. We need no payment for our lectures, much less any sort of gift. If anything, so long as we can speak freely of theology, and have students listen with an eager ear, there will be no problems.”

  Canaan and the other archivists worked in the Curia’s labyrinthine archives, where they handled all the texts the Church managed. It was an inconspicuous branch within the Church, and all of them genuinely wanted to promote God’s correct teachings, perhaps because they were all so well educated. And so even within the Church, where money often spoke loudest, the lure of pay had no power over them.

  Of course, most of them were of noble birth, so they were not desperate to make money for their daily bread or wonder what sort of work they might have in the future.

  Not only that, but they were all brave; every last one of them was ready to face death when they sent Canaan to the Kingdom of Winfiel, since they believed that was a necessary step to right the Church’s wrongs.

  And just like Myuri said, if there was a group that would be determined to come to this city and delighted at the prospect of rebuilding the Church, there was no other group than the archivists.

  “I will send for them right away. By the way, do you know how the professors’ guild here is structured? I heard there is an oral examination upon joining, but do you know what sort of thing that entails? We must move with precision here.”

  Col gave a tense smile when Canaan said that; Canaan’s associates were the very ones who would author theology books that would be chosen as textbooks here. Even if not, the theology and ecclesiastic law professors who wandered from academic city to academic city ultimately wanted high-ranking benefices from the Church.

  Since people from the heart of the Church would be sent here, who would dare object to them joining the guild?

  “Please tell this to the noble maiden who fights on behalf of the poor students. On behalf of the Curia archival department, we will share all the academic knowledge we can.”

  It was hard to think of a better solution than this, to the point that Col was uncertain if this was the right choice.

  “And the southern eagles? Their misconduct is outrageous. I will inform their parents of their savagery. Good grief, to capture wayward boys and force them into labor is an act of the devil himself! Not to mention gambling on textbooks, the seed of education!”

  Col thought of the parents who would be informed of their sons’ violence from the Holy See and he winced, though he knew he had nothing to do with the matter. He almost urged him to do so peacefully.

  “As for possible textbooks, we have plenty of copies of various versions of the most famous books in the papal archives. Too many, in fact—we have nowhere to put them. I am certain God would be delighted if they were to be of some use to the students, so that is another problem solved.”

  Col recalled the conversation he had with the bookseller as he was searching for books in the streetside bookstore in Aquent.

  He had asked Col to tell him if he ever learned anything about textbook selection, but he wondered if the bookseller would believe him if he told him this.

  He would surely give Col a little tip and send him on his way, and not give him a valuable book on the desert.

  “However, with regards to recruiting as many allies as possible for the ecumenical council, we will need to investigate. Her name was Lutia, yes? We can ask for the names of the scholars who sympathize with her ideals, then use my connections with the churches around the continent to find them. With Master Le Roi’s help, we should be able to find powerful nobles who will show strong interest in the vernacular version of the scripture. We should be able to assemble a great host for our battle!”

  There were several times in the Kingdom of Winfiel where Canaan seemed helpless, but on the mainland, he was like a fish in water. This was what it meant to be a part of an organization that wielded authority and influence.

  “Let us go together, Master Col!”

  Canaan smiled brilliantly and held out his hand.

  These past ten or so days had only caused Col frustration, but a panacea had come to them all at once.

  This was most certainly a valuable asset that he had gained on his journey, and it shocked him to see just how lucky he had been on his travels.

 

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