Chapter 14
The man's name was Jim, and his wife was an elf named Simaril.
She was the heavily pregnant elf Vieta had met when she once investigated every elf in the area for Iseria.
“Her due date is just around the corner, but she hasn't come home for two days now.”
“…Could it be that God hid her?”
Vieta recalled what Siran and Iseria had told her once.
[Even after reaching adulthood, elves often disappear. It's all because their characteristic elven wanderlust flares up.]
[Sometimes they suddenly get the urge to leave on a whim, as if they'd received a revelation from God. When elves disappear like that, we say that God hid them.]
[After disappearing like that, they reappear anywhere from a few days to a few years later.]
[Can't you find elves God has hidden?]
[No. It's nearly impossible to find them. That's why we say God hid them. It means they went to God's world for a while. Elves who go there sometimes grow physically or mentally, too.]
At Vieta's words, Jim sprang to his feet and slammed his hand on the desk.
“That can't be! There’s no way Simaril would leave me!”
When Vieta looked at him in surprise, Jim sat down and ran one hand over his face.
“I know. I know elves sometimes disappear on a whim. But Simaril showed no signs of that. Even the day before she disappeared, she was making baby things—there was a half-finished swaddle.”
The man's voice rumbled with anguish.
“Please, ma'am, just look for her once. I'd almost feel relieved if Simaril had truly abandoned me and left. But I'm terrified she might have gotten into an accident.”
With his head bowed deeply, his shoulders trembling violently, and his breathing ragged,
the man looked so pitiful that Vieta waited silently until he stopped crying.
***
“Even if you're anxious, don't leave the house under any circumstances. Your wife might return, and I may need to contact you urgently.”
She was only in her second year as a fixer, but she'd already handled missing-person cases three or four times.
Since the families of missing people often panicked and wandered around recklessly, leading to further accidents, Vieta stubbornly got Jim to promise he would stay home.
After walking for quite some time, Vieta stopped in a forest near the cultivated fields outside the city.
She had followed the clothes Simaril had reportedly been wearing with tracking magic cast on them, but the white sphere guiding her to the target abruptly cut off midway.
There were two possible causes.
Either the caster lacked the necessary ability, or someone had deliberately blocked the tracking magic.
She was still well within the spell's range, so someone had clearly interfered.
"So this is where she disappeared."
Vieta searched the area thoroughly to determine the cause of Simaril's disappearance.
If this was an abduction, the most likely possibility was that she had been taken right where the tracking magic abruptly cut off.
If so, there might have been signs of a struggle nearby, such as disordered footprints or suspiciously broken branches.
Vieta checked even for wild animals' fur and claw marks. The chances of Simaril, an elf, being harmed by a wild beast were extremely low, but one could never be sure.
Tracking magic could also break when its target died.
Despite combing the area as thoroughly as possible, she found no evidence at all.
There was also a way to track traces of magic beyond physical evidence, but for Vieta, whose magical ability was only at the level of a low-ranking mage, that was difficult.
Whether Simaril had been abducted, suffered an accident, or God had hidden her, Vieta unfortunately had no choice but to borrow Fulcare's power for now.
“Oh, dear.”
She was about to rise and hurry back to Fulcare, but her leg had gone numb.
Apparently, crouching for so long during the investigation had caused it.
Just as Vieta lowered her head again to stretch, she sensed something strange.
"Take my sword!"
While Vieta was bent over in a defenseless position, a little brat charged at her from a nearby bush, club in hand.
*
“Who taught you to swing a club at people without warning?”
Vieta snatched the club away in one motion, then gave the boy a light tap on the head with it.
Despite her scolding, the child's eyes blazed like those of a starving beast.
"Not going to talk?"
"…."
“I'll let it slide just this once.”
Since arguing any further would only put her at a disadvantage, Vieta returned the club to him.
“…You're a bad bitch, aren't you?”
Yet the boy, taking back his club, spoke in a still-sullen tone instead of apologizing.
“No, I'm not.”
Vieta shook her head.
From the way he used the club to support himself to the way he spoke, he was clearly going through a hopeless rebellious phase.
“Liar.”
What are you going to do if you don't believe me?
Muttering inwardly, Vieta tried to leave.
“You're running away, so you really are a bad bitch!”
However, the boy seemed to have no intention of letting Vieta leave quietly.
When Vieta turned her back and tried to head in the opposite direction, the little brat scampered over and blocked her path.
"Where do you think you're going, you bad bitch!"
“Then let's hear exactly why you think I'm a bad bitch.”
Whoosh-!
Instead of an answer, the boy swung his club at Vieta.
“You little brat!”
Vieta glared at the boy irritably.
She needed to get to Fulcare right away, but if she ignored him and left, he would obviously follow her, shouting bad bitch at the top of his lungs.
She could easily shake him off with a little force, but she couldn't just use a spell in front of other people.
“Are you really going to keep being a nuisance?”
Dodging the club as it repeatedly came flying at her, Vieta grabbed the boy's hood.
She wanted at least to see what kind of person he was.
At Vieta's tug, the hood ripped apart, revealing a little boy with pointed ears beneath the darkening sunset.
“What? You're an elf?”
But once again, no answer came.
“I'm not a bad person, so please answer me. You're an elf, right?”
“Can't you tell by looking? Do you wear your eyes as decorations?
Although she had finally received a proper answer, Vieta felt something inside her snap.
“So if I'm not a bad bitch, then who are you?”
“The person who's going to punish you from now on.”
She resolved to take this damned brat standing before her to the Room of Truth.
***
After finishing an early dinner, Blanc was handling his overdue work in his office.
After all, he had to select the knights and mages who would accompany him on a pilgrimage lasting more than a month, recruit servants to attend to them, and deal with all kinds of supply issues. There was no end to the things he had to worry about.
Though work was piled high, Blanc couldn't concentrate at all.
Between his feud with Charles and being kicked out of Vieta's office, there were too many small things distracting him, like splinters lodged beneath his fingernails.
“Raymond, did the Consort or Charles say anything today?”
“You mean the restaurant incident?”
Perhaps Raymond had grown bored with the endless work, because he set down the document he had been reading.
“Since the Chief was there too, I'm worried they might suffer because of me.”
“Neither the Consort nor His Majesty has said anything.”
That's a relief. Blanc nodded.
“Even so, won't the Consort summon you soon?”
Raymond checked the calendar on the desk before continuing.
“As it happens, tomorrow is the day of their private meeting.”
Damn it. Blanc set down the pen in his hand with an audible clack.
Ever since Blanc was young, the Empress had periodically held private meetings with the Consort.
When he was young and knew nothing, he enjoyed accompanying the Consort to those meetings.
He could eat delicious refreshments and meet Garvin, whom he normally had difficulty seeing.
But once he had grown old enough to understand, he realized those meetings were monthly battlegrounds where the Empress and the Consort tested their wills.
Until Blanc left for the Kingdom of Madak, the Consort had always brought Blanc along whenever she had a duel with the Empress.
Charles, the Imperial Palace's black cuckoo, was too flawed a son to take to the dueling grounds, starting with his appearance.
Now that Blanc had returned, there was a good chance the Consort would take him instead of Charles.
“There hasn't been any message, has there?”
“Not at present, but Your Highness knows well that the Consort is not the sort of person to concern herself with such details.”
His brief rest over, Raymond picked up the papers again.
“In any case, you'll need to find a new escort as well. Have you looked at the list I submitted? There are many matters besides the escort that need your approval immediately, and if you're going to attend tomorrow's private meeting, you absolutely must finish them all by tonight.”
“All right, all right.”
Blanc groaned and turned his gaze back to the papers.
‘Please let tomorrow pass peacefully.’
But his mind grew even more troubled.