"Then let's go find your father." Lumian was on his feet at once.
He had always been a young man of action, and he knew perfectly well that investigating the village's legends could not be put off. Drag it out too long and his sister would find out, and Aurore would never allow him to keep at it.
That was because, in Aurore's eyes, pursuing supernatural power was an extremely dangerous thing to do.
Of course I know it's dangerous. Aurore would never lie to me about that. But even if mountains of knives and a sea of fire lay ahead, I'd still walk on. I can't let Aurore face it alone... As he rose, the thought flashed through Lumian's mind.
Whenever the conversation turned to how the world was growing more dangerous by the day, the solemnity and worry on Aurore's face could not be faked.
Raymond Craig grew even more bewildered.
"Find him for what?"
"To ask how long ago the legend of that sorcerer happened." Lumian looked Raymond over.
How could this fellow not understand plain speech? It seemed he would have to find a chance to test the man's intelligence.
Raymond's face was a study in confusion. "Why do you need to know so precisely?"
Uh... should he fob the fellow off with some random excuse, or just say it straight? Lumian sank into thought.
Considering that his later investigations could hardly stay hidden from the friends around him, that "searching for the truth of a legend" sounded like a lie in itself, and that no villager would believe it if word got out, Lumian quickly made up his mind.
Instantly, he put on the smile he wore whenever he was conning someone.
"..." Raymond abruptly backed up two steps. "Talk like a normal person!"
Lumian smoothed down his dark short jacket and the linen shirt beneath, then said with a smile, "I think the legend about that sorcerer is well worth thinking over."
"What's worth thinking over about it?" Raymond said after pondering for quite a while.
"'There was once a sorcerer in the village'—that sentence." Lumian's face turned serious. "Think about it. When I make up a story to fool people, I'd never give a time, a place, and a background that anyone could check right away. But that legend states very plainly that in the village—our Koldu village—there was once a sorcerer. If that were a lie, wouldn't it be easy for everyone to expose it?"
"But that was a very long time ago," Raymond retorted.
"I mean the people back then too—when the story first began to spread. They should have been able to check easily enough whether a sorcerer had died in the village at that time." Lumian smiled. "Since this story has survived all this time, that probably means it really happened."
This reasoning failed to convince Raymond.
"But when you make up stories, you often use 'over a hundred years ago' or 'hundreds of years ago' or 'a very long time ago,' so no one can verify anything."
"Which is exactly why we need to check with your father!" Lumian wore the look of a man saying, Now do you see why I wanted to find your father?
"I suppose..." Raymond accepted the explanation, though he still felt something was off.
The two left the square and headed deeper into the village. Finally, Raymond caught on:
"But why do you want to confirm whether a legend like that is true or false?"
"A sorcerer! Come on, a sorcerer! If we can figure out which house he lived in and where he was buried afterward, who knows, we might discover his secret and gain wondrous power beyond that of ordinary people for ourselves." Lumian was telling the truth in a way that sounded like a lie.
Sure enough, Raymond's face said plainly, Don't lie to me.
"Most of those stories are made up to scare children. How could they be real? And besides, chasing a sorcerer's power will get you thrown into the Inquisition!"
The Republic of Intis lies on this world's Northern Continent. The gods holding orthodox status there are the "Eternal Blazing Sun" and the "God of Steam and Machinery." Their two churches have divided almost all the people's faith between them, and they do not permit the "Evernight Goddess" church and the "Lord of Storms" church of the Loen Kingdom, also on the Northern Continent, the "Earth Mother" church of the Kingdom of Feynapotter, the "God of Knowledge and Wisdom" church of Lenburg and the other central and southern states, or the "God of Combat" church of the Feysac Empire to come in and preach.
The Inquisition of the "Eternal Blazing Sun" church had always been a thing of dread for the people; who knew how many heretics and heathens had been locked away inside it and subjected to cruel treatment.
Lumian burst out laughing.
"Why are you worrying about that now? You said it yourself: the vast majority of those legends are invented. The odds of finding anything a sorcerer left behind are next to nothing.
"Besides, even if we really did find what a sorcerer left behind, we wouldn't have to inherit that forbidden power. We could simply hand it over to the church and collect a reward. Hmm—being a sorcerer, he'd certainly have plenty of treasure among his grave goods."
The church Lumian meant was the "Eternal Blazing Sun" church, because Koldu village, where they lived, had no "God of Steam and Machinery" church—those tended to be concentrated in the great cities and places with factories.
Seeing that Raymond was clearly tempted, Lumian clicked his tongue to himself and added one more line:
"Don't tell me you really want to become a shepherd?"
The shepherd he meant was not the idyllic shepherd of city folk's imagining—not a member of the family who simply drove a few sheep out to graze each morning and looked after them.
In the Dariège region of Leston Province, where Koldu village lay, a shepherd was a profession, one doomed to hardship and loneliness.
They took employment from flock owners, driving dozens or even hundreds of sheep back and forth between the mountains and the plains.
This was called the seasonal migration—whenever autumn came and the high pastures in the mountains around Koldu village withered, the shepherds drove their flocks out beyond the mountain passes to the warmer plains pastures far away, often crossing the border into Feynapotter, Lenburg, and other lands. In early May they drove the flocks back to the villages, sheared the wool, and weaned the lambs. In June they went up into the high pastures and lived in shacks, making cheese while they grazed the sheep, until the weather turned cold.
And so the shepherds migrated year after year, spending their whole lives on the move, with only the smallest amount of time to return to the village. That was why the great majority of them were single; it was very hard for them to marry, and they could not start families—and the handful of widows forced by circumstance to take up shepherding were very popular among them.
Raymond fell silent.
After a long while, he said hesitantly, "I'll follow your lead. It does sound like fun—something to pass the idle hours."
Normally, once a family decided which of its children must become a shepherd, they sent him at some point between the ages of fifteen and eighteen to work as a hired hand at some flock owner's home and learn the trade. Three years later, the child became a full shepherd and went around seeking employment.
Raymond, seventeen this year, had already put the matter off for more than two years with one excuse after another. If life went on unchanged as it was now, then next year he would have to go learn shepherding.
"Let's go." Lumian patted Raymond on the shoulder. "Is your father out in the fields or at home?"
"There's not much work lately, and the Lent Festival's coming soon, so he's either at home or at the tavern." Envy entered Raymond's voice again. "You didn't even know that? You really aren't a farmer. You've got a good sister."
Lumian strolled forward with his hands in his pockets and paid Raymond's sighing no mind.
Just before they reached the village's shabby tavern, a figure came walking along the side road.
He wore a dark brown long coat with a hood, a rope tied at his waist, and on his feet a brand-new pair of black leather shoes that looked soft and supple.
"Pierre? Pierre of the Berry family?" Raymond blurted out in surprise.
Lumian too stopped and looked toward the side road.
"It's me." Pierre Berry waved with a smile.
He was on the lean side, his eye sockets slightly sunken, his black hair greasy and curling, his face covered in a beard of who knew how many days' growth.
"How come you're back?" Raymond asked, puzzled.
Pierre Berry was a shepherd. It was late March, early April now; he ought to be grazing his flock on the plains pastures beyond the mountain pass. How could he possibly be here in the village?
Even if he had migrated this time to Lenburg or the northern reaches of Feynapotter, he would only just now be setting out on the return journey to the Dariège mountains, and it would take about a month to arrive.
Pierre had a pair of gentle, smiling blue eyes. Rather cheerfully, he said, "Isn't the Lent Festival almost here? I've missed it several years running—I couldn't possibly miss it this year!
"Don't worry, I've got companions keeping an eye on the flock for me. That's the good thing about being a shepherd: no overseer. As long as you can find someone to help, you go wherever you want. Perfect freedom."
The Lent Festival was a holiday found widely across Intis, when people welcomed the coming of spring in all sorts of ways and prayed for a good harvest in the year ahead.
It had little to do with the "Eternal Blazing Sun" church or the "God of Steam and Machinery" church, but it had long since become a folk custom, and since it involved no worship of heathen gods, the orthodox churches tacitly allowed it.
"You just want to see who gets picked as this year's Spring Spirit, don't you?" Lumian teased with a smile.
At Koldu village's Lent Festival, a pretty young girl was chosen to play the Spring Spirit. It was part of the celebration.
Pierre laughed along. "I'd have hoped for your sister Aurore, but she'd never agree, and her age isn't right either."
"Well then." He pointed at the tavern not far off. "I'm going to the church to say a prayer. Later I'll stand you both a drink."
Raymond answered without thinking, "No need—you don't have much money anyway."
"Haha, the gods teach us, 'Even if you have only one copper coin, share it with your poor brothers.'" Pierre quoted a proverb passed around among the shepherds of the Dariège region.
At that, Lumian smiled at Raymond.
"Pierre's come into money—of course he'll stand us a drink!"
He said it while pointing at Pierre Berry's brand-new leather shoes.
Pierre Berry looked delighted.
"My employer this time was a decent sort. He gave me several sheep, and there's wool, cheese, and leather coming too."
A shepherd's pay consisted of food, a little money, and a share of livestock, cheese, wool, and leather; which of these he got, and how much, depended on the contract he had signed with his employer beforehand.
And for shepherds who had to travel great distances, a good, well-fitting pair of leather shoes was the most pressing and practical thing to long for.
Watching Pierre Berry walk toward the village square, Lumian's gaze gradually turned grave, touched with puzzlement.
He said silently to himself, Just to attend the Lent Festival, he'd spend a week or two—even nearly a month—hurrying back?
After a moment's thought, Lumian looked away and walked with Raymond toward the tavern.
The tavern had no name and needed none. Koldu village had only the one, and the villagers liked to call it the Old Tavern.
Just inside the door, Lumian habitually swept the room with his eyes.
Suddenly, his gaze came to a stop.
He saw the outlander who had left early the night before.
The outlander who was clearly not with Leyn, Lia, and Valentay.
She was a lady in a long orange-yellow dress, her brown hair hanging in soft curls, her pale blue eyes fixed on the pale red liquor in her hand.
She was beautiful and languid, as though she did not belong in the same scene as this low, dim, shabby tavern."
Chapter 4