Aos Si.
A place where mysterious beings who don't mix with humans are said to live. Some say at the ends of the earth, others on a lone island in the middle of the sea, but no one knows the truth. There are only rumors that if you go deep into a forest you might find a door leading to Aos Si.
Usually people think beings of Aos Si refer only to phantom beasts like fairies and dragons, creatures appearing in legends and fairy tales. But 'Aos Si' covers a far wider range than that. Those that help humans, those that do harm, otherworldly beings with no interest: all lumped together, people call them 'what came from Aos Si.'
The problem, however, is that the demons of Aos Si are beings of ill fame, just as you'd expect of guys with the word demon in their name.
"Th, the demons of Aos Si."
"Surely you won't say you don't know the demons of Aos Si. I hear they come up often among humans in folk songs and lullabies too. The demons of Aos Si will eat you, come home early— that sort of thing."
I was sure it was like that. Or wasn't it? Is my memory wrong? Rubbing the thick rope binding both hands hard against Pendragon's rough scales to sever it, I went on.
"The point is this. That all the people of Loegria will pay together for dragging the only watchman who keeps the demons of Aos Si from crawling onto the earth out of Tintagel, jabbing it with spears and leaving it to die under iron chains."
"What do you mean by that?! It was surely that dragon making Tintagel's walls collapse, so you prophesied, did you not?!"
"I did prophesy that, certainly."
I agreed lightly. The first of the Albion Story Quests. That moment I retried over and over, dying several times, still remains in my memory.
Only.
"But I didn't say to catch that dragon, drag it out, bind it and make a spectacle of it, did I?"
"You wretch!"
"I don't know what has become of all the dragons that once strode this earth. But at least, judging by how you treated the dragon of Tintagel— no, Pendragon, Your Majesty. I can guess."
Calhog's face went deathly pale. The soldiers who had protected him from the wind had all fallen too, but not one of them thought of getting up. Or was it that they couldn't think of it?
When the rope binding my wrists barely snapped, I ignored the tugging feel of my skin and rotated my hands a few times. Joints normal. Nosebleed...... still flowing. Can't magic stop this?
As I was brushing off my dirty clothes. Calhog staggered to his feet.
"That cannot be. Fairies and demons and such were driven into the deep forests. For hundreds of years not a shred of omen, and what? The demons of Aos Si are invading?"
"......"
"Do not speak nonsense. Dragons, fairies, magic, in the end they are nothing but tricks handed down from ancient times. That thing behind you too, wretch, is in the end surely an abnormally large wyvern subspecies! How you fooled the eyes of so many people I do not know, but my eyes at least!"
Is he blind? Or did I really hit a nerve? Or both?
Like a father-in-law on a morning drama, blood pressure up and about to fall over backward, Calhog was pointing at me as if about to shout right now to throw me in, and watching him I felt further argument would be pointless.
I personally prophesied there's a dragon, and now I've summoned the dragon before his eyes and made him big too. Yet what's with this man treating me like some swindler?
"Fine, fine. Let's say that's so. I don't know what bold human would take such a risk to swindle the royal house of Loegria, though."
"You wormlike wretch!"
"Even if you take me for a swindler, Your Majesty, the demons of Aos Si will surely invade Loegria. If you do not prepare, the ones suffering for decades to come will be the poor people of Loegria, and by then Erman will have taken the throne."
"Now, wretch, do you dare speak of another king before the sole sovereign of Loegria?"
"That's what they call providence."
Passing Calhog, I went to Estan, who was still wrapping someone tightly in his cloak. I pulled down the heavy fabric and unhesitatingly hauled out the person inside.
"You needn't be so indignant, Your Majesty. The prophecy about the demons of Aos Si is not for you."
"......Not for me?"
"That's right."
His face contorted. He'd been raging and denying the demons of Aos Si, and now that he was told the prophecy wasn't for him, his pride seemed hurt. For all that, he was just a scrap of data, an AI NPC, so not particularly scary.
I brazenly pulled Erman over and gripped his arm firmly. So neither of us could escape Calhog's field of view. Conscious of the stares pouring in from around us, I slowly opened my mouth.
"Because all my prophecies have been arranged for this child."
***
"Albion, please, please. Don't do this. Please don't. Go back to His Majesty even now and tell him you made a mistake, say that!"
"What mistake did I make?"
"You know too!"
Thanks to Sir Estan's cleanup, Erman and Albion were able to return to the castle. Because at the words that there were too many eyes here, Calhog, only then realizing how far his pride could fall, sent the two ahead.
With Albion insisting there was no need to go to the infirmary, they'd reluctantly come to Erman's own bedchamber, but still the situation had to be cleaned up.
"You shouldn't have done that, if only because of His Majesty's temperament. There had to be another way. It's not too late yet. Albion, if you issue the prophecy again."
"A prophecy isn't something you can take back."
Unlike himself, burning up inside, Albion was at ease. Though his clothes were stained with blood and dust, though the wounds from torture were still opening, Albion, caring about none of it, sat cross-legged on the carpet, scraping the brown bloodstain from his chin, and looked up at him.
"Do you want me to lie or something?"
"That's not what I mean. You must know what position I'm in here. I...... don't want to be in danger."
"Danger?"
Albion snorted.
"So you were safe until now? With Cadwin calling you in to force-feed you and make you vomit, some nameless bum of a knight poking you with a wooden sword and making you do nothing but cuts all day, no one in front of your quarters, watching from behind dusty window frames and dirty windows as Calhog takes his mistress and leaves the castle whenever he likes, you kept feeling safe?"
"Albion!"
"You're the one who's lying, Erman. There was no one here to protect you."
Erman could say nothing at all. Because everything he'd said was right.
But recognizing it himself and having another person cruelly jab at it were entirely different matters. Before a shame he hadn't wished for, only Erman's ears burned.
"Don't say it like that......"
"Then who's going to tell you? No one tells you. Not Estan, not Pidrin, not Daren. And then what were you planning to do? Were you going to pretend you didn't know forever, live and die like that?"
"It's not like."
It's not like that. I didn't mean to. The answer was ready, but strangely his mouth wouldn't open.
Was that really so? Could he have gotten through this situation alone someday? When he got bigger, when he became an adult. Then could he have told right from wrong on his own?
As Erman hesitated, Albion looked at him with his characteristic knowing gaze, then heaved a sigh and got up.
"I'm sorry I pushed you without talking it over. But you can't get anything for free without doing anything."
"......"
"If you really want it, I'll go to Calhog myself and settle it. I'll say I misunderstood because I'm stupid, or make up that I'm a swindler."
"Albion."
"But that's not it, is it? I remember everything you told me on the way to Tintagel, your stories, your wishes, even the things you want to do."
Now Erman's face reddened for a different reason. What had he said to Albion? Every night whenever Albion was awake he'd held onto him and chattered so much that he could barely recall it now.
-Tintagel's on the coast, you know, and I heard they're building a new port for trade. Then I wonder what'll happen to the people who lived there originally.
-Look at this, Albion. I picked it up this afternoon. It's a round, pretty stone, isn't it? Where did this kind of thing come from, I wonder? I heard there are a lot of stones worn like this near rivers and streams. Then was this place by the water in the old days?
-That farmhouse where we got bread this morning. Their son, about our age, is sick. But there's hardly any doctor nearby, so I wish your magic could've healed him. Ah, of course I'm not blaming you! If there'd been a doctor nearby in the first place, I wouldn't even need to say this. The farther from Puil, the more this sort of thing happens.
-If I become king someday, will I be able to come out like this then too? It'll surely be a good experience. I think seeing it directly would be far better than hearing it from someone.
"This may be a harsh thing to say, Erman. But before you grow up, a child could be born between Cadwin and Calhog. Then what do you think will happen to you?"
"That's—"
It was a future Erman too had imagined many times.
"The law of primogeniture? Calhog's the very one who smashed that law. How is a child between king and queen any less than the king's illegitimate child? Going by bloodline or legitimacy, that side's superior, isn't it?"
"Albion, talk like that right now......"
It was what the courtiers were always whispering about.
"It's the same no matter how smart you are or how hard you live. Other people don't give a thought to your circumstances. Those people's eyes don't see your efforts at all. Nothing gets solved by you alone playing it safe!"
"So what on earth do you want me to do?!"
Finally unable to bear it, Erman shouted.
"I know too, you think I haven't thought of what you're thinking? I know very well what position I'm in at the castle, why everyone hates me!"
"Then why don't you do anything?!"
"Because I can't!"
He still remembered the carriage Calhog had sent. People in splendid clothes getting out, and the moment they called him, hiding behind his mother's skirt, 'Master Erman.'
"There's nothing I can do here. I can't even choose the clothes I wear! All I can do is what others tell me, and no matter how hard I try, all I hear are warnings that I mustn't be a disgrace as a prince!"
People in fine clothes separated him from his mother. When he lost hold of her rough hand, his mother wept a lot. To him, crying in the carriage because he missed his mother, the first words they spoke were.
-Now you are going to the royal castle of Puil. Please mind your conduct so as not to shame His Majesty Calhog. You must not cry like that at the royal castle.
"I held it in all this time to become a fine prince, so as not to blacken the face of His Majesty who brought me here! So now to ask why I didn't do anything, that's, that's too—"
"Too cowardly a criticism? I wasn't by your side all that time and didn't help at all, so I have no right to say this to you?"
......How did he know?
A small hiccup came out. It felt as if his mind had been read, and he didn't know where to put his eyes.
It wasn't that he hated Albion. Rather, he felt great gratitude that Albion had taken him all the way to Tintagel and, even after returning, insisted everything was Albion's own fault. Besides, he was his one and only friend.
So probably this emotion he was feeling now, the reason he'd needlessly shouted at him.
"......Just, don't talk as if I've gone wrong......"
Because they were friends. Because he was someone who'd come like a miracle to him who'd lived alone. He knew at least that he couldn't show him only good things. He had no gold or jewels. Nor was he strong or did he have special abilities like Albion's. He'd expected that his lack of means would be exposed someday.
But, even so.
From Albion at least, Erman wanted unconditional understanding. Because he had no one. Because his mother, the Queen, His Majesty, were all people beyond his reach. So from Albion, his friend at least.
"I know I'm not that dependable. I know I don't seem trustworthy to someone like you, so grown-up, a mage, able to talk with a dragon. But...... still, can't you understand? We're friends. You know how I am, and what kind of place this is."
All the while tears dropped from Erman's face, Albion was silent for a moment.
Then he calmly opened his mouth.
"Yeah. I can't."
......To Erman it was a bolt from the blue.