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≪3-4≫ – A Token

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Author: Kisasaki Suzume Original Source: Syosetu
Translator: Mui English Source: Re:Library
Editor(s): Deximus-Maximus

In a normal, small village, there was usually a temple dedicated to offering prayers to the gods. And in villages that lacked city-like sturdy walls and defense forces, the temple served as a place of refuge for the villagers in case of monster attacks. Due to this, specialized “Temple Craftsmen” were dispatched to construct a sturdy and impressive temple-like structure.

Because of its splendid architecture, the temple was sometimes used as a venue to host guests in the village.

“Adventurers, we are truly grateful for your efforts in vanquishing the monster. This is a small token of our gratitude from all the villagers.”

That evening, Lucella and Ivar were invited to the temple.

The dining hall, while modest, was meticulously cleaned and appeared to be used for ceremonies and special occasions rather than being a space for the temple priests. It featured a simple feast of local mountain birds, river fish, summer vegetables such as eggplants and tomatoes, and for Ivar, liquor that seemed to be produced in the village.

Both the High Priest and the Village Chief bowed to Lucella and Ivar as they took their seats.

Lucella had come to investigate the situation, but the Golden Helmet hadn’t officially accepted the mission yet, so there was no reward to be paid at this stage. In such cases, the village would offer a modest gratuity. Paying the full amount would effectively make it a direct quest bypassing the Guild, which could raise suspicions, but they often turned a blind eye to small gestures. Leaving adventurers who had gone through danger with nothing could lead to trouble.

As a gesture of thanks, offering a feast wasn’t an unusual practice. Well, it wasn’t an unusual practice, but…

“Village Chief and the High Priest, are you not going to join us?”
“Please excuse us… We have to handle the post-processing of the incident. If possible, we would have liked to join you and hear your story.”

The spread of food was meant for two people – Lucella and Ivar. While the reason for not dining together was understandable, it still felt a bit odd.

“What do you say? Is there anything that concerns you?”
“Um, well… It’s not related to the job, but is it alright to ask a question?”

Lucella told a small lie. Her current task wasn’t just a preliminary investigation for the quest; it involved digging into the village’s hidden secrets, so she needed to know about the village.

“What’s that? Is it a deity of the land?”

Lucella pointed her palm (as pointing your finger at an idol was disrespectful) to a statue displayed on a shelf in the dining hall. In rural temples, it was common to generously venerate specific agricultural or weather deities. However, the deity depicted in the statue – a figure resembling neither a young nor old man, reclining over a coiled serpent – was unfamiliar to Lucella based on her knowledge.

“That is Lord Hapshal. He is a revered entity who watches over the cycle of life in this land and bestows eternity upon us.”

With a warm and proud smile, the middle-aged High Priest replied.

As Lucella had suspected, this was a local faith. In addition to the gods of the “Unified Mythology” worshiped by the Temple organization, there were various deities that people in different regions considered gods. If these beliefs were found not to be malevolent after scrutiny by the Papal jurisdiction, they were allowed to be incorporated into the temple’s practices. This was referred to as “Certified Heresy.”

“So, High Priest, you are originally from this village?”
“Yes, that’s correct. I received much education in the Holy Capital and returned to this village. To be the High Priest in this village, one must be someone who understands Lord Hapshal’s teachings.”
“I see. Thank you for sharing this interesting story.”

Lucella concluded the conversation without delving deeper.

In a secluded village like this, the temple was also a gateway to the outside world. Being the High Priest, he possessed knowledge and was affiliated with a global organization.

However, how about this village?

With guards stationed to keep watch and the High Priest being a villager, Lucella’s concern and suspicion were driven by her manager’s intuition. In places like this, anything could happen.

“Well then, please enjoy your meal,” said the Village Chief and High Priest together before taking their leave. This left only the two of them in the dining hall.

Ivar opened his pocket watch before touching his food, showing it to Lucella. The gem on the watch’s face didn’t glow. It seemed like there was no magical surveillance on them.

However, that didn’t necessarily mean they were safe.

Ivar then took out a cylindrical case from his suit’s inner pocket. Inside were a silver-colored knife, fork, and spoon.

“Personal utensils?”
“Who wants to eat with a fork that someone else prepared?”

Ivar dipped the silver spoon into the spicy tomato soup and then stirred the alcohol with the fork.

“See? It came in handy.”

Both of the elegant silver utensils were now stained a dirty black.

What Ivar had brought were mythril-silver utensils for detecting poison. They changed color in reaction to poison or chemicals.

The possibility that the guard might have been poisoned had crossed Lucella’s mind, so she had anticipated this turn of events. However, she was more dumbfounded than angry at how straightforward their actions were. The biggest question remained: Why would they resort to such tricks?

Ivar licked the alcohol from the fork with the tip of his tongue.

“…Sleeping potion. It’s made with a Jousting Deer’s horn. Unusual.”
“You can tell?”
“It’s good to remember the taste of poisons. Especially you. With your constitution, poisons won’t work on you, right? Knowing the taste can make you a great taster for poisons.”

Saying so, Ivar took out a black pill and swallowed it, likely an antidote or a substance that would boost his resistance.

Lucella, while being cautious, took a sip of the soup. She did feel a strange bitterness, but more importantly, her tongue tingles from the saltiness and spiciness.

“Eugh, it’s so heavily seasoned.”
“They probably made it strongly flavored to mask the taste of the poison. It’s a good idea to be cautious of dishes that taste unusually strong even before eating them.”

Lucella carefully monitored the effects of the poison and her magical flow, taking small sips of the soup, but she seemed to be fine in the end. Regardless of the potential poison, she decided to enjoy the meal. Good food was good food, regardless of any other factors. She had a frugal nature.

“Is tonight some kind of secret ritual, not meant for outsiders? The true faith they don’t want foreigners to see.”
“In that case, they’d probably want the outsiders to be fast asleep.”
“But there’s more to it, I’m sure.”

They shared a nod as they filled small vials with liquid—Lucella the soup, Ivar the liquor—samples for material analysis.

Lucella considered the fact that the previous funeral had been conducted secretly from the guard. From this, she could infer that there was a hidden form of faith. However, even if that were true, they still didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle.

“Yeah, it’s not adding up.”
“They should’ve just had us leave without trying to detain us. Isn’t it weird that they gave us a meal at the temple? Inviting outsiders to a place where they should be hiding something… It doesn’t make sense. They could have invited us to the chief’s house.”

Needless to say, poisoning someone was a crime. Throughout history, those in power have always feared poisoning, so the punishment for those who used poison improperly was severe.

So, what were the villagers really trying to achieve by going that far?

“There’s still something more to this.”

The rural night was dark. Outside the window, there was nothing but an all-encompassing darkness. Even the noisy cicadas of the daytime had fallen silent in the night. 1



 

Footnotes:

  1. ”Finally!” – Silva, 2023
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