It was truly a headache-inducing situation.
The Sordin Order was currently on the brink of collapse.
If they had the sacred relic, communicating with the god would be much smoother.
It was a kind of key that connected across dimensions.
I should at least help recover the sacred relic…….
In fact, if Feltron hadn’t brought the order to this state, it wouldn’t have been such a necessary item.
Losing it didn’t sever the connection to Sordin.
But now, there were no priests of bishop level or higher who could receive revelations.
It seemed the mission wouldn’t be complete until the sacred relic was retrieved.
“Do you have any leads at all?”
“Hmm……. There was a strange rumor circulating before the demon took over.”
“What was it?”
“Something about someone planning to bring down Nordenark. It was so nonsensical that it was quickly buried.”
“Hmm.”
Honestly, it was absurd.
Even if all the surrounding territories combined forces, conquering it would be difficult.
How could anyone bring down such a massive city?
Sensing my skeptical vibe, Priest Terence shook his head too.
“It’s probably just a baseless rumor. I haven’t heard anything else. I’ll ask the students at least.”
“We’ll be staying in Nordenark for a while. You can contact us there.”
“Yes, understood, Your Grace.”
Leaving Priest Terence behind, I exited the Sordin Order.
The stone steps leading into the temple had already returned to their original color.
The black clouds that had enveloped the entire rocky mountain were gone too.
“Before, it felt like some demon lord’s castle; now it finally looks like a temple. Why make the atmosphere like that anyway?”
—It’s cool.
“You!”
Feltron quickly covered his head with his wings.
Because I’d flicked my finger as if to smack him.
Then a plausible answer came right away.
—Ah, so no one visits.
“That makes sense. Should’ve said that earlier. Cool my ass.”
—Ahem!
Feltron was in bat form but not hanging upside down.
Instead, he was crouched quietly on my shoulder like Shugl.
Probably because he wasn’t a real bat.
“Y-Your Grace?”
As we left the temple, Derrick approached and spoke right away.
I’d told them to stay far away, but he seemed to have waited nearby.
This guy’s so loyal even without me doing anything for him.
Derrick didn’t have generated stats like Judge Colrund Emir.
Yet he followed me as if he’d sworn knightly oath.
Quite curious, but I didn’t ask why.
If he’s volunteering, no need to refuse.
“There’s only one potential clue.”
The ridiculous rumor Priest Terence mentioned.
Might as well investigate that.
With the party, I headed straight for Nordenark.
Planning to stay there for a bit.
Cordell McNeil was there too, after all.
In the lab on the outskirts of the Carius Duchy.
Vargas hadn’t been in a good mood lately.
“Why the hell are they here causing chaos when they know nothing?”
It was the Duke of Carius’s order, so he accepted it.
But he couldn’t understand it.
Involve someone called Princess Eustia in the research?
And assign her core tasks? What nonsense was this?
“She’s a benefactor and the funder of all these achievements, so I’ll listen, but……. Blessed hands? That makes sense?”
Discomfort has limits; this crossed the line big time.
Moreover, for the Duke of Carius to believe such superstition.
What absurd nonsense.
“Don’t come any closer. You’re too close to the princess.”
“But I’m just getting experiment supplies.”
“Explain what. We’ll move it for you.”
“If I say, you’ll know? Ah! I said don’t touch that carelessly!”
Crash!
Because Princess Eustia touched it, the carefully prepared glass bottle shattered.
How much did that cost, to smash it all.
He was about to go mad.
But he couldn’t say anything.
The knights were watching with piercing eyes; he couldn’t even approach.
For the first time, Vargas resented the Duke of Carius.
“Sigh!”
Only deep sighs escaped.
The experiment showed no progress.
This research was an extremely difficult task.
Had to turn the magical byproduct liquid soap into a very cheap solid.
The materials themselves were expensive; how to lower the price?
So Vargas was experimenting with the cheapest ingredients possible.
But Princess Eustia, born high nobility, was haphazardly using anything.
“What if I mix Parcell powder and Blobrex?”
“No, that’s 50 goldens per gram. Don’t add it carelessly!”
“So what happens?”
“I don’t know. Never tried.”
“Then perfect conditions. Both have cleansing power, so something should…….”
Fizzzzzz!
Black liquid bubbled over, instantly melting the table.
A perfect poison had been created.
Magically treated materials, extremely expensive, and dozens of grams wasted.
How could his insides not burn?
This was the dozenth time she’d done such things.
Vargas closed his eyes tight and shook his head.
“Oh! Your Grace, why give me such trials?”
As a mage, he couldn’t call on gods, just cried out to the innocent Duke of Carius.
But right then.
Clang!
Out to cool his head briefly, another breaking sound from the lab.
“Ugh! I can’t take it anymore!”
Princess or not, he felt like kicking her out to satisfy himself.
Vargas stormed in fuming.
But the atmosphere was odd.
The experiment table, which should be a mess, looked fairly intact.
Just the beaker corner broken from some swollen white thing.
Not a big accident, apparently.
Yet, Vargas reignited his resolve.
She’d caused something; he’d expel her somehow.
“Right now…….”
But his shout didn’t continue.
Because of Princess Eustia’s words.
“Look at this, mage. Seems successful.”
“What do you know to judge that……. Huh?”
Trying to jab angrily, Vargas was speechless again.
She’d broken off the white solid and was rubbing wet hands, producing bubbles.
Wiping them off produced a squeaky clean sound; it was definitely soap.
The solid form the Duke of Carius requested.
“Wh-what are the ingredients?”
“I put in everything here. A little each.”
“Huh?”
Truly absurd answer.
She made it herself yet such haphazard reply; what nonsense.
Vargas closed his eyes tight.
To figure the recipe, immense experiments awaited.
Or analyze the product.
But no need.
Princess Eustia smiled faintly and said,
“I remember how much of what. Just don’t know their names.”
“Gasp! R-really?”
“Yes. Shall I do it again?”
“W-wait. First, record it.”
Vargas hurriedly grabbed paper and quill, nodding with determined expression.
Planning to note everything she did.
“Alright, doing it.”
Princess Eustia mixed ingredients randomly and boiled over strong fire.
White liquid swelled, eventually breaking the beaker.
Clang!
But Vargas showed no anger.
Just madly recording everything.
Soon her hand movements stopped.
The white thing hardened solidly.
Result matched the previous perfectly.
Squeak squeak.
“Is the research complete now?”
“Wait. Need calculations.”
Vargas summed the ingredients’ costs.
Then measured the product’s volume; truly astonishing result.
“Soap one costs only 2 corens?”
Not that cheap actually.
But still.
Dozens times cheaper than liquid soap.
Add fragrance, and high enough quality for immediate release.
Vargas looked at Princess Eustia with newfound awe.
“Blessed hands……. It was real?”
Unlike his complex thoughts, she just smiled brightly.
As if clueless.
“Great. Now introductions. Wonder which lady suits His Grace.”
She seemed truly unaware of her amazing feat.
Or completely uninterested.
“His Grace’s circle seems full of insane people.”
If the Duke of Carius were here, he’d probably say:
You’re just as insane.
Back in Nordenark, but I got nothing.
Cordell McNeil, monitoring crime bosses, found no anomalies.
Far from collapsing the city, everything ran peacefully.
So I went to Jaren Burgess.
Underworld likely had superior info in this field.
“An organization planning to bring down Nordenark?”
“Yes. A Sordin priest said so.”
“Ah! I heard Your Grace restored that place.”
“News travels fast.”
“Gotta for underworld survival. Anyway, about that organization.”
“Yes.”
“Probably means the Growlers.”
“Growlers?”
First time hearing; I tilted my head.
What could threaten a whole city?
Jaren Burgess continued with an unsure face.
“Growlers are ghosts riding four-wheeled carriages. A type of undead.”
“Huh? And they collapse the city?”
“Normal undead monsters, no chance. A few Sordin priests could smash them. But these are scarier than thought.”
“How so?”
“They carry explosives in the cart, turning places into seas of fire.”
“……”
Honestly, I thought he was joking.
But Jaren Burgess’s eyes were serious.
Fine.
Say Growlers are bomb carts driven by insane ghosts.
But how much damage could they do?
Staring blankly skeptically, Jaren Burgess spoke.
“If Growlers get a divine-powered item, it’ll cause a massive explosion. Nordenark would vanish without trace.”
I was momentarily speechless.
Regardless, Viscount Burgess shrugged.
“But actually, that won’t happen. What idiot would give undead monsters a sacred relic?”
“……”
“No way. Right?”
“The world has more idiots than you think.”
My insides burned like Jaren Burgess’s ashen face.
Ah, really seeing all kinds of lunatics.
After Feltron, now bomb terrorists?
Please no romance.