Arc 9: Menosorpo (5)

I opened the trapdoor in the floor. The basement below looked fairly large, so I jumped down.

THUD

The landing made quite a loud noise, but barely affected my body.

I looked around the basement. It apparently hadn't been cleaned; dust rolled about, and an acrid smell stung my nose.

Was Frondier the only one who knew about this basement? At the very least, it seemed the people who cleaned the cabin hadn't known it existed.

I surveyed the entire basement. Its layout didn't look all that different from upstairs.

I picked up a book from the table in the left-hand corner. My hand had naturally gravitated toward it, and on it were the words:

Diary — Frondier de Roach

My heart suddenly began to pound. Slowly, I opened the diary somewhere near the middle.

May 2

It's raining, but it isn't cold. Has the cold finally gone away?

Elodie bragged that her Divine Power keeps her from ever feeling hot or cold, all year round.

That pissed me off a little.

...

June 14

It's hot.

Elodie tried to talk me into going to the stream in the valley.

I told her, "You don't even feel hot," and she got really sulky.

She was only pretending. I know perfectly well.

These were accounts from their childhood. Perhaps because it was so long ago, Elodie seemed to treat Frondier quite affectionately.

'If his diary is here, did the old Frondier live in this cabin?'

Since he had no Divine Power, perhaps staying here had been better than feeling self-conscious at home.

I flipped idly through the pages, then stopped.

One unusually short line.

I stared at the sentence as though my eyes were nailed to it.

December 26.

I've finished deciphering the ancient language.

"...?"

The ancient language?

Frondier had deciphered the ancient language?

I examined the diary again. Sure enough, Frondier had written about the ancient language at regular intervals.

—In the ancient language, words made up of exactly the same characters can have different meanings. Those meanings aren't even remotely similar; they're completely different. Realizing that left me utterly exhausted. I can say with certainty that this language was not created for communication.

"... What the hell?"

Frondier had been deciphering the ancient language—and had finished?

If he'd deciphered it, that meant he'd found the ancient language somewhere in the first place.

Where on earth?

I reread the diary from the beginning.

October 21

It's fucking cold.

Elodie still wanders around outside in light clothes.

It's starting to piss me off.

Does she have any idea how I feel?

...

November 4

I'm tired of smiling.

I'm tired of saying I'm fine.

I'm tired of being in a situation where I have to say I'm fine every single day.

Damn it. F*ck. Stupid bitch.

Just shut up. Please.

There was something ominous about this diary. Entries filled with curses aimed at Elodie grew more and more frequent.

As time passed within this thick diary, Frondier's loathing for her kept building.

'Did Frondier dislike Elodie?'

No, this went far beyond dislike.

It was hatred.

November 11

The five gods who love Elodie.

Why Elodie? Why five of them?

At least one of them could have come to me.

No, they don't have to. I don't need Divine Power.

But having someone like that beside me is agony.

Fuck off, Elodie.

Fuck off.

Get out of my sight.

Don't smile at me like that.

"Five gods..."

Elodie, beloved by five gods.

Frondier, with neither Divine Power nor talent.

His inferiority complex seemed far more severe than I'd imagined.

December 2

I'll finish deciphering the ancient language soon.

Once I do, everything will be over.

My inferiority complex. This depression.

I won't have to watch Elodie grinning like a mindless idiot anymore.

She'll be in exactly the same position as me.

"What?"

Elodie would be in the same position as him?

What did deciphering the ancient language have to do with her? Had he discovered something while deciphering it?

'No. Judging by the diary, it looks more like he learned to decipher it because of Elodie.'

My mind raced. Whether I wanted it to or not, one thought followed another, driving my reasoning forward.

Ancient language. Deciphering. Elodie. Five gods. The same position.

'... He was trying to use the ancient language to do something to Elodie's Divine Power.'

The way he'd worded it, it almost sounded as though he'd intended to strip her of it.

But he'd probably failed, or put it on hold.

The year in the diary dated it to three years ago, long before he entered Constel.

When I'd played Etius, Elodie had wielded the five gods' powers perfectly well. Frondier was the one who'd been nowhere to be seen.

Whatever he'd tried to do to her, it hadn't worked out.

Had he then become "Frondier the Human Sloth," doing nothing but sleeping at Constel?

... Frondier. What the hell were you trying to do?

Couldn't you just have been an incompetent character?!

That alone is already making my life miserable enough!

'This makes you a full-blown villain...'

THUD

Just then, I heard something hit against something else upstairs. Instinctively, tension shot through my entire body.

A loud voice followed.

"Ah, ahem. Hey there, young master! You in there?"

The voice was relaxed, amplified by Mana. For someone using the words "young master," the speaker was outrageously rude.

"We already know you're in there, young master."

'... An enemy?'

I calmed my pounding heart and steadied my breathing.

"You'd best come out nice and easy. If you don't open this door, we'll burn the place down, you hear?"

... Who the hell were these people? Did they have a grudge against me?

Everyone thought Frondier was pathetic, but he shouldn't have done anything to make enemies.

Or were they after the Roach family rather than me?

"No good, boys. Get it done. Make it quick."

Apparently he hadn't come alone; he sounded as though he was addressing his men.

A moment later—

CRACK-CRUNCH!

An eerie whistling through the air was followed by a racket overhead, as though an earthquake had struck.

Arrows, probably. Since he'd threatened to burn the place down, were they fire arrows?

They'd come thoroughly prepared. They couldn't have done this unless they'd been certain from the start that I was here.

I quickly scanned my surroundings. They might not know I was in the basement rather than the cabin itself, but once the cabin collapsed, they were bound to find me.

I needed something to counter them before that happened.

'Weaving...!'

I began storing every object I could see in the Workshop. Each time, I was able to examine its structure.

'A noble family's retreat is bound to have one.'

During my painstaking search, I found a particular bookcase.

A button installed beneath several of the books on its shelves, and a strand of magical energy extending behind it.

"This is..."

I approached the bookcase and pressed down on the books toward which the Mana flowed.

The bookcase slid smoothly aside, revealing a passage wide enough for one person.

Found it. An escape route.

If I could just get away through here, for now—

"Young master! We didn't come empty-handed! We've brought you a present!"

What was that idiot babbling about?

I was about to ignore him and step toward the escape passage when he called out again.

"We've got a kid with us!"

My feet stopped. My eyes narrowed in unbearable disgust.

"We're going to throw this kid into the house now. He'll burn real nice."

He's lying, I thought.

But then I heard faint crying. It was unmistakably a boy's voice.

"Run away, and starting tomorrow, you'll be branded a murderer. And killing a kid through arson? That's a pretty nasty crime, wouldn't you say?"

Bastards.

Now I knew who they were. No, I knew who was pulling their strings.

These weren't enemies of the Roach family. It wasn't that simple.

Indus. An organization hiding behind the pretense of serving commoners.

That greasy scum had set their sights on me.

"Whew..."

After letting out a deep sigh, I climbed the ladder.

* * *

"Hey, don't let the fire get out of hand. We only need to break down the door."

Serf issued the warning as he watched. All they needed was to get Frondier outside. It would be a problem if he suffocated.

"Well, we've practically caught him already, haven't we?"

Though these men followed Serf's orders, they weren't members of Indus. They were merely a mercenary band he'd hired for a hefty sum.

They had no idea who they were messing with, never dreaming it could be the Roach family. Their only orders had been to "burn the cabin and get the man inside out."

"That's right. He'll come crawling out on his own. We even threatened him with a kid."

Grobel, one of the Indus members, was chattering excitedly. Beside him, a much younger boy grinned.

"Did I do good?"

"Oh, you sure did. My little brother's acting gets better every day."

Grobel smiled as he stroked his younger brother Rockbel's head.

"But do I really have to go in there? Into that burning house?"

"Of course not. I was just saying that. As if it'd make that Frondier come crawling out. But if he does, you've got to start acting again, all right?"

"Okay!"

Grobel reassured Rockbel.

Listening to them, Serf thought,

'But he won't be able to stay inside.'

By now, the house would be full of smoke. An ordinary human without Divine Power was bound to be unable to bear it and come running out.

Even if he had an escape route prepared, could he ignore the threat of being branded a child murderer?

For someone from a prestigious family like the Roach family, killing a child meant a fate worse than death.

He'd probably be sent somewhere like the Teibeon Wall to rot until he died.

CLUNK

"Huh?"

Just then, the door opened, and Frondier emerged.

"He actually came out?"

Grobel was surprised, but Serf had expected as much.

Frondier was lazy and incompetent—and a noble to boot. The way people like him thought was obvious.

Even in a situation like this, he'd assume he was safe. He'd done as he was told, so whatever happened to the child now wasn't his responsibility, and as a noble, he wouldn't be killed.

He'd come outside with precisely that sort of complacent reasoning.

"Hey there, young master. Pleasure to meet you. Name's Grobel."

Grobel began speaking.

"Just do as we say, and you won't have to suffer anything unpleas—"

"Serf Daniel."

Frondier cut him off.

Grobel was a little annoyed, but kept quiet.

... But how did he know Serf Daniel?

"Serf Daniel. Answer me. Are you deaf?"

Ha. Serf let out a hollow laugh.

Did he still not understand the situation or his own position?

Having remained silent at the back, Serf finally spoke.

"I'm surprised you know who I am."

"Why are you keeping your mouth shut back there?"

"Such harsh language. I'm merely refraining from overstepping my place."

Speaking calmly, Serf met Frondier's eyes.

Drowsy eyes. Even with things having come to this, they were still languid and sleepy.

With that utterly relaxed expression, Frondier said,

"You're the one behind this, Serf Daniel."

He spoke as though stating the obvious, as though correcting someone with the right answer.

"What do you mean? The man in front of you is our leader, Grobel—"

"Oh, right. That's the act you're going with. Got it. Let's just skip that part."

Frondier waved a hand dismissively, as though it were all too much trouble.

What was with that indolent attitude? As though he knew everything.

For the first time in a while, Serf felt offended. But he didn't let it show.

Always smile.

That was how a member of Indus ought to behave.

"Before I do what you want, let me make a proposal."

Yet Frondier's insolence knew no bounds. A vein bulged on Grobel's forehead.

"Young master, is your skull full of water? You think you're in any position to make a propos—"

"That kid there."

Frondier pointed to Rockbel, Grobel's younger brother, standing beside him. Admirably, Rockbel had kept up his tearful act ever since Frondier had emerged.

Frondier said,

"Send him over to me."