The Crown Prince Who Raises Alt Characters

Chapter 345: The Delinquent Priest Rufus (3) - The Faith-Based Territory of War and the Sea Raphaela looked at Rufus, who had swindled her right from the very start of their journey, with a face that seemed to have a great deal to say. But that only lasted a moment. Soon, with a deep sigh, she obediently came to stand beside Rufus. "Ugh, fine. Whether you're actually in charge of this place or not isn't really something I have any business questioning. Let's just get going." "You're giving up faster than I expected? I thought you might rage and rave about being swindled." "Because that's not what matters here." Raphaela said, her manner gloomy. "The point is that you know I possess knowledge of mana and alchemy, Father. If that were reported, I'd be finished either way, so no matter what your intentions are, I have no choice but to go along with whatever you say for now." "Oho." Rufus curled up the corner of his mouth as if he found it amusing. Raphaela's judgment was accurate. She grasped her own situation precisely, and understood how she needed to act within it. Then again, alchemy was to begin with a discipline that was difficult to learn properly without a considerably good head on one's shoulders. Her intellectual ability, then, had to be considered more than sufficiently excellent. The problem was that, even with such a good head, she committed irrational acts without hesitation. And that, too, not for her own sake, but for the sake of others. Curling the corner of his mouth up even deeper, Rufus struck the staff in his hand down onto the ground with a brisk motion. "Good. Let's be off, then." "May I ask where we're headed?" "We're headed to 'Boots.' After that, it'll continue in the order of Leggings, Belt, and Breastplate." To those without prior knowledge, this might have sounded like utter nonsense, but Raphaela, who knew the inner workings of Hasht, was different. "That's a pilgrimage in the most literal sense." Kargal, god of war and the sea, was one of the many gods who ruled over Hasht. Within the territory that worshipped him, every city above a certain size used the name of a piece of weaponry or equipment as its own name. Kargal's Boots, Kargal's Leggings, Kargal's Belt—something along those lines. However, calling out each full name was inconvenient in various ways, and the names weren't especially clever to begin with, so it was common for everyone to understand just fine when people simply shortened them to things like 'Boots' or 'Leggings.' "Raphaela. Have you ever been to a major city?" "...No, I haven't." "That answer came a touch too slowly for how obvious you're trying to be. Still, well, since it doesn't seem to be an outright lie, I'll let it slide for now." If he was going to let it slide anyway, she wished he wouldn't bother giving off that 'I know you're hiding something, but I'll overlook it' nuance. Sighing inwardly, Raphaela nonetheless made an effort to maintain her composure. After all, it was true that this was her first time visiting one of 'Kargal's major cities.' She hadn't lied. "In any case, if this is your first time visiting a city today, there will likely be quite a few surprises. Try not to be too shocked." "I'm not that much of a naive country girl who doesn't know the ways of the world, you know…." "Ha ha ha." *** Honestly speaking, Raphaela had a vague idea of what Rufus meant when he said there would be 'quite a few surprises.' Ever since settling in the village, she had rarely traveled outside it, but since she was within the same territory of Kargal, news from other cities still reached her from time to time. —A city of Kargal's was, in itself, one enormous arena and training ground. —Strife was encouraged, restrictions on violence were lax, and the strong gained much. —Those with special skills useful to war, such as blacksmiths or architects capable of fortification, were protected from this violence, but those without such skills were stripped of everything as the weak, in the harshest of circumstances. —And yet the population of the great cities never dwindled. Amid the stifling, controlled life repeated day after day, young people who wanted to be the ones in control rather than the ones controlled kept coming to the city, aiming for a soldier's position. Rumors were, by nature, exaggerated and distorted somewhere along the way, so blindly believing everything she heard wouldn't do, but even if only half of the rumors were true, she could still guess that it wasn't a very pleasant place to live. That must have been why Rufus had given her a warning in advance, she thought. To state the conclusion first, Raphaela was wrong. When she actually confirmed the reality of this so-called 'great city' with her own eyes, the rumors that had reached her home village turned out to be, far from exaggerated, actually watered down. "Mister Rufus." "I'm listening, so go ahead and speak, Raphaela." "Why is it that when this city's soldiers train new recruits, they beat whichever one lags furthest behind in the running?" "Because doing so lets them establish discipline over the recruits, and by weeding out the less capable talent, they can raise the average quality of the troops." "Then why, in mock battles, do they set aside the fine civilized invention that is the wooden sword, and insist on fighting each other with real blades honed razor-sharp?" "Because doing so strengthens the soldiers' mental fortitude, and keeps the unit's atmosphere perpetually on edge." "Depending on the person, there are foods that are hard to digest or simply don't agree with one's constitution—why do they mock someone as weak for failing to eat such food properly?" "Because from the military's standpoint, it's easier to simply cut out that individual than to deliberately prepare a separate reserve meal or system for such a 'finicky minority.'" "Why must the lowest-ranked soldiers in a unit be the ones saddled with cleaning, laundry, mowing, and all the other bothersome tasks that someone has to do?" "Because that's what will make the soldiers struggle to become even the slightest bit stronger. Handing out a plausible punishment is easier than handing out a plausible reward." Raphaela silently clutched her head, and toward her, Rufus spoke on, unfazed. "Raphaela. The answer to every one of your questions converges, in the end, on a single point. 'Because the god in charge of this land wants it that way.'" The Sacred State of Hasht. Its other name was the Pantheon of Hasht and the Divine Kingdom. That's right. The Pantheon—the Hall of Ten Thousand Gods. Hasht was a nation that served not a single god but many, and its political system and social structure likewise reflected this fact. Chief among these was the concept known as the 'Faith-Based Territory.' Hasht's territory was carved up into numerous zones as if in some game of land-grabbing, and each zone had its own designated god assigned to it. Residents of a given zone were required to worship only the god assigned to it, and this was an unconditional obligation with no room for choice. One could not simply turn away from a god just because it governed something different from the values one personally pursued, and even the act of moving into another god's Faith-Based Territory required troublesome procedures and permission from above. One might then ask whether diligently praying was all that was required, but that wasn't quite the case either. For there were times when engaging in actions related to the concept that god governed made for a far more powerful prayer than simply performing one's obligatory prayers at a set time. In a Faith-Based Territory ruled by a god of agriculture, the very act of farming became a prayer directed at that god. In a Faith-Based Territory ruled by a god of the hearth, the very act of kindling a fire became a prayer directed at that god. Then what, one might ask, should be done in a Faith-Based Territory ruled by a god of war and the sea? Engage in sea-related work like fishing or salt-making, or simply go into the water and swim? That, too, had some effect in its own right. But it was a method hard to use anywhere that wasn't along the coast, and to begin with, Hasht had almost no territory bordering the sea. So then, what was one to do? The answer was the very shape of these countless great cities, starting with this place, 'Kargal's Boots.' "Whether these policies actually strengthen the military, or actually improve the soldiers' skill, isn't really the point. The key is that the process itself has hardened into a kind of ritual." The act by which a god of war could best grow their divine power was war itself. But war was not something that could be started easily, again and again. In the distant past, back when the gods alone were the masters of this land, they might have pitted suitable nations against one another to scrape together faith, but pulling a stunt like that in the world today would not go unanswered by the other great powers. And so, in place of giving up on large-scale war, Kargal instead demanded pettier, smaller-scale conflict. He set the soldiers against one another in competition, made them draw each other's blood, oppressed the weak, and favored the strong. The weak, praying to climb higher, offered their faith to Kargal begging for strength, while the strong offered their faith to Kargal in order to keep hold of their position. "In simple terms, that means every system here was built not for humanity's convenience, but for the god's." Having said that much, Raphaela let out a small gasp and shut her mouth. That was because what she'd just said could very well have come across as criticism aimed at the gods of the Pantheon. Raphaela regretted her own carelessness, thinking that was no thing to say with a priest standing right beside her, but for some reason, Rufus did not get angry at her. No, far from getting angry, he instead gave a big nod and voiced his agreement. "Yes, there truly are a great many problems. Watching this magnificent feast of inefficiency and irrationality, my whole body itches with the urge to overturn every last bit of it. Hm? Why are you backing away from me, Raphaela?" (E/N: You spawn of the Great Demon King! Sinner!) Well, that was because even at a passing listen, he was spouting off things that sounded tremendously dangerous. "Um, Father, I get the feeling you don't hold the gods in all that much reverence." "No? I believe a god worthy of respect should be respected. It's only that, just as subjects correct a sovereign with loyal counsel when the sovereign is doing something foolish, I merely believe that a god, too, needs to be corrected when walking down the wrong path." Would it be rude of her to say that the very idea itself already seemed a million light-years removed from an ordinary priest? After mulling it over for a moment, Raphaela soon asked a question. "Then, how would one go about offering Lord Kargal this 'loyal counsel'?" "Is there something you want to say?" "I'd like to say that he should stop grinding down people's physical and mental health like this." "Even though no one asked you to do such a thing?" "I'm doing it because I want to." At Raphaela's words, Rufus gave a brief smile. "Well then, first you'll need to become a Saintess."