“Yes, there is, isn’t there?”
“What’s that?”
Remedios had been escorting Calca, so she hadn’t attended the planning meeting, either. But the fact that the Holy Lady understood immediately and she didn’t stemmed from different issues.
“…Honored sister. The demon who rampaged in the capital—Jaldabaoth. I don’t know what kind of intellect he possesses, but demons tend to be quite crafty. He may have some stratagem we’re not prepared for.”
“Oh… That makes it tough for the staff officers who have to plan the operation, then, huh?”
Calca had a thing or two she would have liked to say to the commander of the paladins, but she held her tongue.
“…This is a real pickle we’re in. So what will we do if the subhumans surround us? We have plenty of provisions, but what I’m scared of is what happens if morale falls among the defenders. The planners took that into account, right?”
“Yes, Your Holy Majesty. Normally we would only have to hold out until reinforcements from the south arrived, but there are reports that Jaldabaoth uses mysterious powers and is capable of breaching our wall with a single attack. That’s making everyone rather nervous…”
All three of them furrowed their brows.
Considering what had happened at the border wall, anyone’s face would go cloudy. But Calca knew better. Remedios was only imitating her and Kelart.
Remedios didn’t use her head. And she was stubborn. If it were only that, they would merely be personality flaws, but those qualities were also what made her capable of dispensing absolute justice.
Thinking about what justice actually is complicates things significantly. For instance, say there are two children. One is human; one is subhuman. Since they are both pure and innocent, they become friends, but adults discover the subhuman and capture the child. The human child begs them to have mercy. But if they let the subhuman go, the child could grow up and one day return to take revenge on them. Would killing the subhuman child be just or not? There is no easy answer to the question.
Calca would hesitate to take a life in such a situation.
But Remedios would kill without a second thought. She had the unwavering belief that it was the right thing to do. Anything that could give the people of her country joy was something she agreed with.
When she assumed the throne, Calca told her two friends that she would “bring joy to the weak and make this a country where no one cries,” and in response, Remedios swore to “uphold justice” as her ardent supporter.
She had taken that vow further than anyone, and the fire in her eyes was similar to fanaticism.
If that was all there was to the woman named Remedios, she would have been a dangerous individual. However, Calca had never felt the need to steer clear of her. It made sense to be fond of goodness that loved people, loved peace, hated evil, and wanted to help the helpless.
And due to that personality, she had no hidden motives. Since she never used her head all that much, it was clear that everything she said and did came from the heart.
Organizations, especially those that had existed for many years, often grew inflexible over time as obligation and ceremony mounted. And in the same way, blood grew cloudy.
It was only natural that siblings should quarrel over ascension to the sole seat that rested at the pinnacle of authority. And the race continued out of suspicion, envy, fear—right up until a life was taken.
Calca had been freed from that fate early on—because she had been able to acquire the most powerful magic of any holy king in history. Once people obtained something to be proud of, they usually rested easier. Thus, Calca had been prepared to give up on becoming holy king. Her siblings, however, were not.
The only blood relative she could trust now was an older brother, Caspond.
Because she’d lived in such a simple way, Remedios was an oasis for Calca’s heart.
“Hmm. That’s unbelievable power. It reminds me of the evil spirits that show up in stories.”
“Honored sister. Not even the evil spirits were that powerful. It’s possible that Jaldabaoth is superior to them!”
“…Well, that’s no good. How can we beat him?”
“What are you worried for, Your Holy Majesty? I hear that in the Re-Estize Kingdom, an adamantite adventurer drove him off. Don’t you think we should be able to handle him?”
“…Hmm. Yes, if an adventurer on par with us was able to, then… The question is whether Jaldabaoth can use that wall-crumbling power multiple times in quick succession.”
“The staff officers feel that since he only used it once when he struck the wall, he must not be able to use it again immediately.”
“That makes sense. If he could cast it often, that was an opportune time to do so. If he didn’t, that means he can probably only use it once.”
Calca and Remedios agreed. There was little apparent reason for him not to continue blasting the wall apart if he was capable of it.
Calca was of the same mind. She lightly touched the crown on her head; it was a magic item, the focal device of the hereditary great ritual spell of the Sacred Kingdom, Last Holy War.
“Well, high-ranking adventurers familiar with hunting down monsters have obeyed the National Mobilization Order and joined the military. I’m sure if we bring all our power to bear, Jaldabaoth wouldn’t be impossible to defeat. After all, we have the precedent of him being driven off at least once.”
The Adventurers Guild had vehemently protested the drafting of adventurers as soldiers, but Calca refused to make exceptions to the order. Of course she didn’t. It would be the height of folly to divide their strength during a national emergency. And the Adventurers Guild in the Sacred Kingdom didn’t have the influence it did in the neighboring kingdom. Forcing it to obey was a simple matter.
“Right. But not getting the details about what happened with him in the kingdom was a screwup.”
“My apologies.”
“Oh no,
