[657] Recruiting Mercenaries (1)
Alpheas School of Magic.
Spring, when the new semester would begin, was still far off.
Most of the teachers had gone back to their homes, and Bishop Etella of the Karsis Monastic Order sat absorbed in meditation in the training hall.
A great evil is approaching.
Even without any news about Ra Enemi, her mind—sharpened and purified—was sensing a change in the world.
I must act.
Even within the Karsis Monastic Order, where the nation's greatest seekers gathered, Etella occupied a singular position.
She was a bishop overseeing one of the twelve dioceses, and she was the immediate successor to the Yin-Yang Wave Style passed down from the ancestor Karsis Yung—a succession possible only because she was the sort of genius who appears once in a century.
"Bishop, are you in?"
Etella had already sensed the visitor approaching from over a kilometer away.
"Come in."
She opened her eyes slowly and greeted the visitor with a gentle smile.
"It's been a while, Bishop Rodi."
A man in his sixties, shorter than Etella and leaning on a cane, entered the training hall.
His white brows spread like wings across a kindly face.
"You're still at the school. You should be making your rounds of the diocese soon."
"Yes. I plan to leave in a few days. I should have come to pay my respects first."
Rodi waved his hand.
"No, that's all right. You're busy; I understand. No one can expect you to be as idle as an old man like me."
Etella, who knew the limits of false modesty, invited him to sit.
"Please, sit. But… what brings you here?"
Once they had exchanged greetings and taken their seats, Rodi's expression darkened sharply.
"It pains me to say it with my own mouth, but…."
It was clear it couldn't be good, yet Etella waited calmly.
"Archbishop Mago Rafael has died."
"What?"
A spirit that could remain unshaken in any horrific situation faltered for the first time.
"I'm sorry, but that—"
"He was murdered."
Etella's heart dropped.
"There must be some mistake."
What reason could there be for the archbishop who presided over the Karsis Order to earn any mortal grudge?
Even if there were, Rafael had been the successor of the Yin-Yang Wave Style who had personally taught Etella—no man whose life could be taken easily by any fierce opponent.
"At first, even the Order had trouble believing it. We all assumed he'd gone off on another ascetic journey. Three months ago we recovered a body in the central mountain range."
"No—what? So my master—"
Etella could not hold back the confusion, but Rodi's voice remained steady.
"When the archbishop's cause of death was determined, there was only one suspect: Shagal."
"Shagal…?"
"He's one of the hundred most dangerous people in the world. Experts call him Shagal, the Swift Dagger. In fact, the archbishop's body had 273 stab wounds. The marks showed an incredibly rapid stabbing speed."
Etella's lips trembled.
"In any case, the Order is now making arrangements to elect the next archbishop…."
"Where is he?"
Etella cut in.
"Where is this Shagal now?"
Rodi would not have come to tell her unless he had verified the identity.
"We've heard he entered Vashka not long ago."
Rodi gave her the facts, watching Etella close her eyes.
"Bishop Etella, revenge is merely a methodology of evil. The doctrine Archbishop Rafael championed for the Karsis Monastic Order—"
"I know."
Etella opened her eyes again.
"I don't approve of repaying murder with murder. I only regret that, as his disciple, I wasn't there to hear my master's last true words."
I have to meet Shagal.
I must know what kind of man he is, and why he would kill an archbishop who chose the path of goodness.
"I'll go to the capital. Bishop Rodi, please handle things at the Order."
Rodi exhaled slowly when he met the steel-like resolve in Etella's eyes and rose from his seat.
"Please be careful. I know your skill, but he is a dangerous man."
Etella rose and returned the monastic greeting.
"Thank you for bringing me the news personally. Travel safely."
After Rodi left the training hall, Etella stood there for a long time, stunned.
"Master."
The kind face of Rafael, who had cherished and cared for her like a daughter since childhood, flickered in her memory.
"Ugh—"
Unable to hold back her tears, Etella finally sank to her knees.
"Sob. Sob."
A thin sob echoed softly through the training hall.
* * *
A campfire crackled deep in the forest of the Jeojeo Mountains behind the palace.
Shagal sat on a rock and watched the dagger glinting in the firelight.
With a soft click he jabbed the dagger into the palm of his other hand, but the blade did not pierce through to the other side.
He slowly drew the dagger out; the blade that had burrowed into the handle sprang free on a spring.
A dagger that couldn't really kill anyone—a trick dagger for show.
It had been the first gift he received when he joined the Leaf Circus.
"The moon isn't up."
He looked up at the pitch-black night sky and suddenly remembered the battle a few months earlier.
It had been this dark then, too.
Archbishop Mago Rafael of the Karsis Monastic Order.
Even a man who had slain so many powerful foes was not guaranteed safety; he had been that formidable.
"Whichever way you go, the path back will be at your heels."
What he'd said in the heat of battle had ended up as something like a last utterance, and for some reason it would not leave Shagal's mind.
Perhaps because those words reminded him of someone dear who remained in his memory.
"Boss."
It was twenty-five years ago, when Shagal was seven.
Abandoned as a newborn with no knowledge of his parents, he discovered as he grew up that he was different from others.
A nose for trouble.
It was probably an extreme sharpening of his sense of smell that had developed even before he was born, when he couldn't see; at the time he simply dismissed it as having a better memory than others.
So when the Leaf Circus came through the Merhen Kingdom again after two years, Shagal recognized the troupe at once.
"Are we performing from today?"
While the troupe pitched a tent on the plains, the circus leader Raiden—carving an apple a short distance away—noticed a filthy little kid standing beside him like a stray dog.
Raiden's tuft of hair and odd features were so comical he hardly needed clown makeup.
"Well, you need people to gather before you can start a show, don't you?"
Shagal fell silent, unable to carry on the conversation. Raiden, understanding the boy's state of mind, asked gently.
"Do you want to watch the circus?"
Shagal shook his head.
"Then?"
The boy stepped back, suddenly sprang off the ground, and tumbled with nimble skill.
"Oh?"
For a child, his athleticism was certainly exceptional.
"I want to join the circus. I don't need money. Just let me eat."
Raiden felt pity when he guessed at Shagal's life.
But joining the troupe on the basis of a few tumbling tricks would be difficult. Even a child like Tia—Shagal's peer, who already mastered unicycling, ball-rolling, and the tightrope—made that clear.
"Sorry, but I have to discuss this with the others. It looks flashy, but it's a very dangerous profession."
Shagal didn't give up.
"I don't care if I die. Whether I die today or tomorrow, it's all the same."
Watching a tear slip under the boy's chin, Raiden motioned him over and handed him the paring knife he'd been using to peel the apple.
"If you're tired of living like that, I'll take your breath."
It would be years later that Shagal would realize the look in Raiden's eyes at that moment was that of a consummate professional.
"…Stab me. I'm not afraid to die."
Raiden looked coldly at the trembling child and, with lightning speed, thrust the knife toward his heart.
"Ugh!"
A rough breath escaped, but Shagal did not move.
Seeing him grit his teeth with both fists, Raiden finally smiled and withdrew the blade.
With a springing click the blade slid in and out, and the strength drained from Shagal's legs as he slumped down.
"W-what was that?"
"Surprised, aren't you? It's a trick dagger."
"Magic?"
Raiden pressed the tip of the blade with his finger to demonstrate.
"The blade sinks like this. But to sell the illusion, you need quick hands. Like this."
Grasping it in reverse and pressing it against his forearm, he made the blade move in and out with a whoosh.
"How's that? Doesn't it really feel like you're being stabbed?"
Raiden thrust the handle of the dagger toward the dazed Shagal.
"Always practice. The point is to strike swiftly."
Shagal's head snapped up.
"So I'll be in the circus?"
"Let's call you a trainee. The show starts tomorrow. You'll go to the city with Tia and hand out flyers."
"Tia?"
Raiden chuckled.
"There's a stubborn girl about your age. Get along with her. She'll be a pain sometimes."
Shagal learned many skills from Raiden after joining the Leaf Circus, and by fourteen he had mastered most of the circus feats.
"Tia! Come on out! We have to hand out flyers!"
"Wait a minute! I need to do my makeup!"
Tia, in clown makeup and a short skirt, stepped out of the tent.
They had lived together since he was seven and were like siblings, but in adolescence Tia looked different to Shagal.
Hiding his secret feelings, he pointed at Tia and laughed.
"Puhaha! That fake snot looks so real! Are you for real?"
"Shut up! Kids like it when I do it!"
Parents would bring children to the show if they liked the clowns.
"Is it that weird? Want me to wipe it off?"
"No, it's not weird. It's natural for a fool to dress like a fool."
"You wanna die?"
Tia chased him brandishing her nails, but once puberty hit she couldn't catch him.
"Ahhhh! The fool is chasing me!"
Shagal actually liked Tia's makeup.
Tia often became the target of lecherous adult gazes as part of the job. He wanted to chase them off with a fist, but at least no one knew Tia's bare face—and that was something he could bear.
"Hey, hey! Bark! Bark!"
Woof! Woof!
While they played tag, a noise from the opposite tent made them stop.
"What's that?"
They went around the tent to check and found three city boys throwing stones at the dog guarding the Leaf Circus tent.
"Die! Take that! Take that!"
Shagal barked.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Stop that right now!"
"Hmph! Who do you think you are, trying to boss us around? Did you forget my dad's the one who gave you your performance permit?"
"Whoever your dad is, why are you hitting a calm dog? You want to get scolded for real?"
The boys flinched when Shagal, a head taller than his peers, tried to intimidate them, but they weren't truly afraid.
"Do you think you can scold us? Hey, clown! We'll peek at your panties later!"
Shagal's eyes rolled white.
"You little—!"
But before he could spring forward, Raiden approached the boys and fixed them with a chilling stare.
"Ugh!"
Even those who feared no beast were cowed by that cold, tamed look.
"Go home. The show hasn't started yet."
When the boys slipped away, still sulking, Shagal complained.
"Boss! Why did you let them go? Those guys need to be taught a lesson."
"They're still young. It's okay to forgive them once."
"Young? They're rotten to the core."
"Ha! They might be, and they might not. How would you feel if someone said something like that because of one of your mistakes?"
"It wouldn't matter. I don't make mistakes."
Raiden ruffled Shagal's hair.
"Shagal, everyone makes mistakes. Many mistakes we don't even realize we've made. Yet you can think that way because—"
Raiden half-kneeling to meet his eye, spoke at his level.
"Someone has already forgiven you."
A smile touched Tia's painted clown face as she watched the vacant boy deep in thought.
- Because someone had already forgiven you.
Those words Raiden gave would have remained forever as a conviction in Shagal's chest.
Until he met Ra Enemi.