22. Astraea, The Red Saintess

As if returning Rose’s wink, Valerian let out a savage growl.

“A brat? Don’t make me laugh.”

Anger lay coiled deep in his voice. The two of them obviously knew each other, and just as obviously, they were on bad terms.

Rose, completely undaunted, snapped right back.

“Is it my fault you keep flunking? Why are you throwing a damn tantrum at me?”

The mighty Valerian fumed in silence, too lost for words to answer. Rose watched him, sneered, and pressed on.

“What’s the point in winning the war? You kill every enemy and bury all the hidden truths inside them right along with the bodies — so try a hundred more times, you’ll still get ‘fail.’ This is your third year of retrying, isn’t it about time you switched up the pattern?”

From where I sat, she was clearly no ordinary character either. Within House Arne, Valerian’s authority was absolute, second only to the head of the house himself. And yet here was Rose, handling him with a flat-out what do I care? attitude.

Trying to vent some of the overheated mood, I turned a question on Rose.

“In the Trial of Arms, you obtained the proof of qualification by defeating a hero of the past. So what is it we’re supposed to do here?”

The result of the preceding Trial of Arms was still on hold. Procedure said you cleared the Trial of Arms first and only then sat the Trial of Wisdom, but given the unprecedented on hold verdict, the head of the house had granted permission to sit the Trial of Wisdom regardless.

Or so Seraphina had given me a heads-up.

During the Trial of Arms, Eve’s attempt at that fusion of ours had left my whole body wrecked. Seraphina brushed all of it aside as if it counted for nothing and strong-armed me into sitting the Trial of Wisdom in a wheelchair.

Just as I was thinking this woman has neither blood nor tears in her, it came.

— There may be more to it than killing.

After that loaded remark from Seraphina, I’d set Leo to gathering information while I lay confined to bed, and it had turned up something quite useful.

“I’ve heard the Trial of Wisdom takes the form of entering inside a history recorded within a book. By means of possessing a figure from the past, no less.”

Rose’s eyes went round.

“Hoho? You’ve done your homework very thoroughly.”

Her confirmation made me swallow a dry laugh on the inside. So it really was possession. Having already possessed Arden, I was now going to step into a book and possess all over again. An isekai inside an isekai, in genre terms… or something like that.

“Correct. Given the physical constraints, it’s the optimal trial for our little bandage Young Master.”

“Bandage Young Master?”

“What else am I supposed to call you, looking like that?”

When Rose swung her staff, the giant three-meter tomes that had been ringing us shrank with a whoosh— down to palm-sized. Dozens of books now drifted weightlessly through the air.

“Pick one from among these that strikes your fancy.”

I reached up absently and plucked one out of the air toward me, an old book bound in leather.

“…Surviving One Hundred and Eighty Days on the Battlefield?”

The moment I read the title aloud, Rose’s eyes flashed.

“Picking that one — you’ve got a good eye! It deals with the very beginning of House Arne — the early settlement period of the founding head! A fascinating story!”

The chic sorceress of a moment ago was nowhere to be seen; what came out of her mouth now was the rapid-fire patter of an otaku who’d just bumped into the object of her obsession.

“Truth be told, the founding head was originally a Mercenary King from the south, you see? And then one day, out of nowhere, he abandoned every glory and worldly comfort and came all the way up to this barren edge of the North. The history books say it was a ‘pull of fate,’ but in academic circles there’s all kinds of debate. Why here, of all places, where there’s nothing but blizzards? There’s the theory of a secret lover, there’s the theory that he came hunting for a legendary treasure… and oh, by the way, the field-ration description on page one hundred and thirty-five is truly —”

“…”

She rattled on without taking a breath.

When the long synopsis finally wound down, she paused for a beat, then said:

“The point is, within that history there is one — single — unsolved mystery.”

Rose suddenly lowered her voice.

“Why, all of a sudden, did he settle in this frozen land where there is nothing? What is the truth of that day?

Your job is to investigate that truth and bring it back.“

She wagged her index finger as the excitement drained out of her.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re not here to become a hero and write a new history. The history already exists, and the ending is fixed. It does not change.”

Elli, who had been listening at my side, cut in cautiously.

“Um… so, you’re not changing the ending — you’re finding the secret hidden inside the process… like a mystery whodunit?”

At that, from somewhere came a Pop! and fireworks burst above Elli’s head.

“Ding-ding-ding! That’s it exactly, you cute little maid girl!”

Rose nodded vigorously. Then, glancing sideways at Valerian, she lobbed a barbed remark.

“Try to bulldoze history with brute force, and you’ll end up like somebody — looking at me for more than three years running.”

“Hmph.”

Valerian snorted in displeasure. From that reaction, I could roughly guess why he’d been failing every single time. He’d most likely been smashing his way through with the overwhelming swordsmanship he’d honed. After all, when you possess another body, the body changes, but the skills and reflexes you’ve spent a lifetime drilling don’t go anywhere.

Told to dig into the underside of history, he’d literally dug into the solar plexus of his enemies instead.

So a hundred more attempts wouldn’t have changed a thing.

I cast my eyes over the books drifting through the air. On the back of each one, like a game-quest blurb, a short synopsis was written.

A Caravan’s Tale of Survival, Stranded on the Northern Snowfields

The Attempted Poisoning at the Palace Banquet Hall

“I’ll go with my usual.”

There were plenty of intriguing subjects, but Valerian didn’t spare them a glance; without hesitation he plucked a single book from the air. When I stole a sidelong look at the cover he’d reached for with such practiced ease, I almost choked.

Turns Out the Peaceful Farmer’s Life I Was Living — I’m Actually the Empire’s Strongest Knight?

Anyone could see this was a hidden-power protagonist premise, the kind where the hero cracks enemies’ skulls open with the same hoe he’d been tilling fields with. It looked exactly like one of those archetypal munchkin novels that had once swept the Korean web-novel market.

That signature power-fantasy rush this genre delivers is dangerously addictive.

In any case, the moment Valerian set the book afloat, a black portal yawned open again between the giant tomes. He made to step in with practiced ease.

— Clack.

The tome that had been hanging open snapped shut, slamming the portal closed with a thud. A second’s hesitation more and Valerian would have been squashed flat.

“What are you playing at?”

Valerian’s brow twitched. But Rose, unfazed, gave her staff a casual swing.

“This time, the two of you have to go into the same book together.”

“What?”

“That’s the rule of the Trial of Wisdom. And honestly — instead of pulling another one-man-hoe-warrior routine in some farmer’s body, just go in with him and tag along with bandage-boy.”

Rose thumped her chest as if exasperated.

“I sent you in to learn the origins of the now-lost Imperial Style of Hoe-Combat, and what did you do? Spent every damn day swinging a hoe and beating people half to death with it! Is that head of yours just for decoration?”

Valerian’s face twisted into something ugly. As though he could no longer contain himself, he laid a hand on the hilt at his hip.

Elli, panicked by the menacing aura, shoved my wheelchair as far away as she could and bolted with it. But Rose didn’t so much as blink, holding her ground against him.

For a moment the bloodthirsty air stretched on; then Valerian lifted his hand off the hilt, and things looked to be winding down. And then, just as abruptly, he clicked his tongue and came striding right toward us.

Elli, pale as a sheet, started to ask something, but instead of answering her I waited on Valerian. He stopped directly in front of me, looked down, and said:

“You choose.”

“Are you sure?”

“It makes no difference.”

When I nodded, Valerian stepped aside as if to say get on with it.

“Let’s go.”

At my word, Elli shot a nervous glance at Valerian and then pushed the wheelchair.

Dozens of history-tomes floated weightlessly through the heart of the archive. Rose watched me with open interest.

“And what kind of novel — pardon me, history — does our bandage Young Master prefer?”

Without hesitation, I pointed at the largest red book, the one Rose was sitting on.

“Astraea.”¹

At my word, Rose flinched.

“The story of the greatest, yet most mysterious, Saintess in the entire history of House Arne. That is where I will go.”

Rose stayed frozen for a moment, then a thick smile spread across her lips. She rose from where she sat and shifted herself onto her broom. The instant she snapped her fingers with a snap, the giant red book shrank in a flash down to palm-sized and landed plop in my hand.

On the cover, gold-leaf letters spelled out the title.

Astraea, the Red Saintess

Rose circled around me, explaining as she went.

“This isn’t all that old a history. Only a hundred and fifty years back.”

Then Rose went on.

“Right now, House Arne has sworn fealty to the Empire and lives out its days as the sword that guards the North. But House Arne did not bend the knee to the Empire from the start. Quite the opposite — during the Empire’s unification wars, the very last house to keep resisting, the one that inflicted the most bitter defeat of the entire campaign, was none other than House Arne.”

I listened to Rose’s story in silence.

“At the time, Arne was holding even against the Imperial army — no, more than holding. We were winning. Because at the heart of our forces stood the greatest Saintess in the entire continent’s history — Astraea.”

Holy power that approached the infinite.

Miracles that could drag a dying soldier back from the brink.

As long as she stood with them, the army of Arne was effectively immortal, or so the story went.

Listening to all of that, Elli tilted her head.

“Huh? That’s strange. If you had such an incredible person… how did the house end up losing to the Empire?”

To Elli’s innocent question, Rose answered in a meaning-laden voice.

“That is the mystery of this book.”

Rose tapped the book in my palm, tap, tap.

“She disappeared.”

“What?”

“Not in the middle of a battle. Not by assassination, either. And she didn’t betray the Empire and defect.”

By then, both Eve and Elli were listening with rapt attention.

“One night, just like that, she vanished as if it had been a lie. No body, no trace.”

Having lost the figure who held them together, House Arne crumbled at speed and was in the end forced to its knees beneath the Empire’s hooves. Or so the story went.

“The goal of this Trial of Wisdom is simple.”

Rose smiled brightly.

“Find out where Astraea disappeared to, and bring back the truth of that day.”

Valerian, who had been listening behind us, came striding back over.

“There’s nothing complicated about it. Go in, comb the place top to bottom, and that’s that.”

I agreed with him there. You only really run into problems by running into them, after all.

Having checked the reactions from me and Valerian, Rose said:

“Are you really going in without an attendant this time as well?”

Valerian cut her off in a single stroke.

“Anyone weaker than me is just baggage.”

Rose gave him an unbelievable look, then turned to me.

“And what about bandage-boy?”

I pretended to mull it over for a moment, then looked up at the person behind me whose hands were clamped tight on the handles of my wheelchair. Elli’s hands were trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“…W-Wait just a moment! This is the first I’m hearing of any of this. An attendant comes along?”

Elli’s voice quavered as she asked.

“D-Don’t tell me… I have to go?”

I grinned brightly and said:

“Of course. With you by my side, what have I got to worry about?”

And I shot her a thumbs-up.

Watching Elli’s face go white, the purple of Rose’s eyes glittered with mischief.

“Is our little maid girl mentally prepared, hm?”

“M-Mentally prepared for what…?”

“The setting of the book you’re about to go into is the age of warfare.”

Rose covered her mouth and snickered as she added:

“Inside a wartime army camp, the gender ratio is — appalling. Which is to say, there are practically no ‘female bodies’ our little maid girl can possess into.”

“D-Does that mean…”

The blood drained from Elli’s face.

They say don’t tell me is what gets people killed, and Rose didn’t forget to deliver the finishing blow.

“With a very high probability… you’re going to end up possessing some sweaty, muscle-bound male soldier.”

“…!”

“If your luck’s really bad, it could be some bushy-bearded old man. Well? Doesn’t that sound like a refreshing change of pace?”

“Hiiiiiek?!”

Elli let out a sound like a scream and stumbled backwards. For sweet, simple country-girl Elli, a muscle-bound old man reeking of sweat was practically a death sentence.

Elli looked down at me with tear-brimmed eyes, a pleading look that begged please leave me behind. But I just grabbed her by the wrist.

“Elli. Even if you turn into an old man, you’re still my exclusive personal maid. It’ll be fine!”

— KU-WAAAANG!

The red book in my hand, Astraea, the Red Saintess, blazed with a powerful light.

“May you arrive at the true truth.”

A vast vortex of mana swallowed me, Elli, and even the tongue-clicking Valerian whole in a single instant.

“NoooooOOOO—!!”

Only Elli’s despairing wail echoed off the walls of the chamber.