A city wrapped in fog.
The sun had crept up at some point, but the orange streetlamps had yet to learn it was time to go out.
A river cut through the city, and along its bank, long wooden benches sat spaced between the lamps.
Ran was half-sprawled across one of them, head tipped all the way back, mouth open, eyes shut as if asleep. Behind him stood a great black coffin, propped upright; beside him sat a black briefcase with a carry-handle.
"Yeah. This time the 'remains' were recovered in one piece."
A short way from Ran's bench, inside a red public phone booth, Moor was on a call with someone.
"Bold on a whole different level from the other Sages. Not one village — he'd mind-controlled an entire city."
Even as he said it, a disbelieving laugh escaped him.
"Right. I kept thinking, surely not — but he'd even mind-controlled the imperial troops keeping order in the city. That's no ordinary nerve. Interrogating him should be a treat."
"Hard work, nothing — your cigarettes did most of the heavy lifting again this time."
"Shame, though. He wasn't Eternity, Infinity, or Perfection — none of the three. Ran's already good and deflated about striking out again."
Moor glanced through the booth's glass wall at Ran, asleep on his bench.
"Turns out using the power and controlling it are entirely different problems. He's certainly grown stronger — but now, just being near him drops the Depth of any magic by three whole grades. We're long past 'can you cast beside him or not.' An ordinary person could drop dead just from standing close."
Moor switched the receiver from his right hand to his left, and it moved from his right ear to the other as well.
"That aside — Ran mentioned it, but didn't you notify the paladins here that we were coming?"
"Yeah, yeah, understood. Handle the cleanup for me, will you?"
Moor ended the call, stepped out of the phone booth, and walked back toward Ran's bench.
He eased himself down beside him, drew out a cigarette, set it between his lips, and lit it.
"Done with your call?"
"Hm? You were awake? Sleep more. The airship won't be here for a while yet."
The two of them watched the airship come flying in from behind the mountains across the river, the sun at its back.
***
"Thank you both for your cooperation."
A dank underground building, its only light a few bulbs hanging from the ceiling — and even those flickering. There stood Ran.
At his feet lay some fifteen people.
From his left hand hung a man, held up by the collar, eyes rolled back and every limb gone slack.
"Ran, let him go now. You'll kill him at this rate."
Whump.
"Tch."
At Moor's word, Ran clicked his tongue and opened his left hand.
His face was thick with discontent.
The man dumped face-first onto the floor seemed jolted briefly back to his senses by the impact.
"Urgh... why would paladins..."
The fallen man squeezed out the question that had formed in his head, as if wringing it from himself.
"That's a question we've been asking too."
Moor moved the cigarette from his lips to his right hand and looked toward the imperial soldier who had thanked them a moment before.
"The thanks are ours to give. We accepted because the terms were good, of course — but why the Imperial Army would make a formal request for our cooperation is a puzzle to me."
At Moor's question, a man who looked to be an officer of captain's rank stepped forward slightly.
"We're only following orders from above, ourselves. For as long as you two are in the region: share information and cooperate on any case involving murder, kidnapping, or human trafficking."
"What does that crap have to do with u—!"
Ran went off at the captain's words, and Moor clamped a hand over his mouth.
"My apologies — our boy's mouth runs a little rough. In any case, understood. Per the terms of cooperation, we'll be taking the 'remains' — and this man who used them."
"Yes, please do. But tell me something. Are you two actually paladins?"
Moor cast compression magic on the man Ran had been dangling by the collar, and tucked him into the briefcase.
"Yes, we are. We're of the Paladin Order — and within it, the Counter-Demon Order, organized to handle the special assignments."
Moor answered the captain with a smile. Then he tossed his spent cigarette into a nearby basket that looked like a trash bin.
"Do call on us again. Let's go, Ran!"
Moor gave the soldiers a light parting nod.
Grumbling at Moor's words, Ran bounded up the stairs they had come down by. The sunlight through the windows said it was the middle of the day.
Up the stairs and fully out of the building, Ran spun around on Moor.
"Hey, Moor. What exactly are we doing here?"
"Hm? Doing what?"
Ran was fuming, the question flung like a challenge; Moor met it with a look of honest puzzlement.
"It's been a month already since we took the Sage in Yusillad and left. And two whole weeks in this city alone!"
"Oh! Has it been that long already?"
BANG—!
"Yes! A whole month! And we haven't caught so much as a glimpse of a Sage — we just keep grinding through this pointless busywork!"
Unable to hold the frustration in, Ran slammed his fist into the wall of the building they had just left.
"Why do you think I joined the Church of Radiant Light in the first place?"
"I hear you, I do — but don't let it rush you, Ran."
Moor's face turned complicated. He walked slowly toward the roadway, then held the briefcase out over it, gripping only the handle — and in an instant, the case vanished. Not one person walking that street sensed anything amiss.
"You know it yourself — our Order has exactly three ways of dealing with a Sage. One: the paladins of the Counter-Demon Order take it on as a group. Two: the Church's wielders of 'Gifts' handle it. And three: you, Ran — the one who carries the silver energy — face it yourself."
Moor spoke far more gently than usual, as if soothing him.
"The first two methods each come with their own risks. Which means any intelligence on a Sage comes to us first — top priority."
"Tch. Fine, I get it... I'm hungry."
"I know. While you were busy beating people senseless, I had the imperial boys recommend a restaurant you'd like."
The anger that had flared up in Ran seemed to have settled, at least somewhat.
A long walk later, they arrived at the restaurant Moor had mentioned. The building itself was nothing grand, but the garden was broad — counting the outdoor tables, the place could seat a considerable crowd.
Moor and Ran took a table in the garden.
"Hey, Moor. I'm not picking a fight — this is just a question."
"Oh! Starting off like that is somehow scarier than the yelling."
Moor answered while flagging down a waiter with one hand. When the man came over, Moor ran a finger down the menu, ordering food and drink.
"All this stuff we keep doing — what's the point of it?"
"The point? First — grapefruit, same as always, right?"
Moor answered the question with a question, confirming Ran's drink.
"Huh! Yeah! Grapefruit's fine. I mean everything we've done this past month!"
"What we've done, let's see... We returned a kidnapped child to their parents' arms, caught a serial killer, and cleaned out no fewer than three guilds running kidnapping and trafficking operations. Honestly — model conduct for any paladin."
Moor recited the month's work, raising a finger for each item — then smiled, thoroughly pleased with the record.
"Right! Exactly! And what does any of it have to do with finding a Sage?"
Just as Ran finished, the wine and grapefruit juice Moor had ordered were set on the table.
"As you know full well, some fifty years ago, Marcel the Annihilator drove the living dragons to extinction. And more than that — he wiped out every living trace of the dragon genes. With the very same power you now carry: the 'silver energy.'"
Moor tipped the bottle and poured his wine. Ran pulled at his grapefruit juice through a straw.
"A pure human cannot reach 'Sage.' Lifespan, the body's limits — it's simply impossible. Which means every so-called Sage of the old days carried some part of the dragon genes in them."
"I know that much. So?"
Ran answered without once pausing his intake of juice. It was a large cup, but its contents were vanishing at a remarkable rate. Moor watched, half in wonder, and went on.
"Do you know how today's Sages exist at all? They reach the Sage's domain by holding a piece of a dead dragon's body. But using dragon remains always demands a price — and that price is the desecration of life."
Moor took a sip of wine. Then he continued.
"The higher the being, the better it pays. A human life buys far more than a rat's. So today's Sages kill people — a great many of them... A Sage cannot help but murder. Follow cases like these, then, and sooner or later you come away with word of a Sage... That's the idea, more or less."
Moor pressed on, jaw slightly set. Meanwhile the dishes he had ordered began to fill the table one by one. The moment the food arrived, Ran picked up his fork.
"It used to be simple — 'a serial killer using high-level sorcery is a Sage,' that sort of thing. But as you saw for yourself in Yusillad, their methods have grown varied and cunning; they don't surface easily anymore. They use mind control — some even join hands with the trafficking rings."
"So to find a Sage in hiding, the only ways are to chase murder cases — or smash any organization that might be supplying people for a Sage's sacrifices?"
"Phew. Yes! Perfectly understood. Your comprehension's gotten quite good lately. Must be the food in front of you."
Moor answered Ran with open delight.
While the two of them ate and talked, a waiter came over carrying a plate.
"Hm? What's this? Everything we ordered is already out."
Moor asked, puzzled, as the waiter moved to set it down.
"The guest over there asked that it be brought to you."
On the plate the waiter set down lay not food, but a letter.
Moor grinned and picked it up at once.
"Rejoice, Ran — sounds like the ones we shipped back to the Order have coughed up word of a new Sage. Finish up and let's pack."