The Crown Prince Who Raises Alt Characters

#Chapter 358: The Rogue Priest Rufus (16) - Raphaela's Diagnosis She wanted to use alchemy to heal people. In itself, that statement wasn't particularly strange. To begin with, the field of alchemy itself covered an incredibly vast domain, and pharmacology, one of its branches, was inseparable from medicine. However, it was a different story if she meant to apply this within the Sacred State of Hasht. "Raphaela. Do you understand what you're saying right now? No, before that, I should ask this—do you remember why you ended up joining me?" "Because I got caught using alchemy." "Then you must also understand just how absurd what you're saying now is." If someone were to ask why she was suddenly worrying about whether something made sense, after overturning an entire city, inciting its people, and even physically 'educating' the vested interests themselves—well, of course she had to worry about it. Because Rufus was a priest. Everything he had done thus far had been, as a priest, condemning Kargal's corruption and incompetence. In other words, to put it bluntly, it was closer to "since you failed to serve your god properly, I'm here to correct that." Choosing physical violence over persuasion and compromise? That wasn't such a big problem. Who could complain about a little strife within the domain of the god of strife? Rufus running wild in Kargal's Faith-Based Territory despite not worshipping Kargal? That could be justified too, somehow—since Kargal himself had revealed his will by personally withdrawing his Divine Power. But alchemy was an entirely different matter. It wasn't a power based on Divine Power. It wasn't a power the gods could control. To put it in terms of secular authority: everything Rufus had done so far was, at most, a power struggle within noble society—but officially sanctioning alchemy was on the level of declaring, from now on, that each territory's Feudal Lord would be chosen by a vote of the commoners. No matter how exceptional Rufus's abilities were, this wasn't something he could grant. If she was only looking at what Rufus had accomplished so far and treating him like some all-purpose problem-solver, asking this of him—then that misconception needed correcting. But contrary to Rufus's expectations, Raphaela shook her head. "No. Gaining permission for alchemy is something I'll do myself. What I want to ask of you, Priest, is that you arrange a meeting for me to speak with the god you serve—or rather, the one you're 'dealing' with." "Hmm?" Rufus opened his narrowed eyes just a fraction. That was how unexpected Raphaela's request was. "Is that really all? No support with the negotiation itself?" "I don't need it." Raphaela stared straight at Rufus. And asked, as if to confirm. "You're planning to leave, aren't you, Priest?" "That's right." "And you won't be able to keep helping the way you have been, either." "I'll keep providing logistical support through the trading company, and I plan to make arrangements so that your authority won't be shaken after I leave, Raphaela." "That's only enough to maintain the status quo." There would no longer be a situation where Divine Power, a limited resource, was doled out and wasted only on the privileged few, as before. People who, until now, simply had to endure their illnesses in silence might finally receive treatment. That alone was an enormous reform, an achievement impossible to deny. "It's not enough." But it was lacking. Divine Power was a power close to a special talent. To begin with, the number of people who ever awakened it wasn't very large. Among them, those engaged in combat professions like paladins would have to be excluded too, and there would surely be some who'd insist they'd rather have their heads cut off than ever stoop to treating the lowborn. Forcing them wasn't the best solution either. It would almost be better if they acted out of malice or spite toward Raphaela herself—because there would also be those who took their frustration out on the patients instead. Once all the problematic ones were weeded out one by one like that, those who possessed Divine Power would inevitably dwindle down to a precious few. In other words, actual medical care would have to be carried out through pure pharmacology and medicine alone, without the cheat key that was Divine Power. And if alchemy, the core element of Raphaela's medical knowledge, were removed from the equation, what remained wouldn't just be halved—it would be quartered. Even with that, people could still be saved. But Raphaela didn't want to settle for that. "So I'm going to have the god officially sanction the use of alchemy. Myself." That way, she could save even more people. That way, she wouldn't just be relying on the legacy Rufus left behind—she could change even more through her own strength. "Ha." A hollow breath escaped Rufus's lips. "Getting a god's permission to use a power that could threaten the god's own authority. Now that is an idea of unparalleled foolishness." "So it can't be done?" "Let's do it right away." Perhaps it hadn't been a hollow breath at all, but laughter. *** It was a space filled with utter stillness. The grand, smoothly finished marble floor didn't have a speck of dust on it, and the air carried the faint scent of wood. Beneath the arched ceiling, at the very center of the circular corridor, stood a single massive hearth. 'He told me to light a fire there.' Rufus had said that doing so would let her speak with the god he'd made a deal with. The moment he so naturally used the word "dealt with" instead of "served," Raphaela privately thought that the man's priesthood really must be nothing more than a facade. From the perspective of a god and its believers, that was undoubtedly rogue behavior, irreverent, and blasphemous. But to Raphaela, who was about to commit blasphemy no less severe herself, it was practically an example and a guideline to be diligently followed. Taking a deep breath to steel her resolve, Raphaela then transferred the flame from the lantern she'd brought along into the hearth. Whoosh! Orange flames flickered to life. Even though there wasn't a single breath of wind indoors, the flames writhed, swelled, and then, before long, stretched as if waking. It wasn't a figure of speech. The flames, which truly blazed up as tall as Raphaela's own body, had already taken the shape of a beautiful woman, looking down at her. 《State your business.》 It was a far more curt remark than she'd expected. There was none of the antiquated grandeur one usually associated with gods, nor any of the warmth one might expect from a goddess of the hearth and protection. Without meaning to, Raphaela recalled a conversation she'd once had with Rufus. "The current gods of Hasht are, so to speak, like foxes who inherited a tiger's territory. Most of the gods who once presided over grand, sweeping concepts have died, and the lesser gods beneath them have claimed the vacated concepts left behind by their dead superiors. Not all of them, however." "Vestania, the Goddess of the Hearth. She neither inherited another god's concept nor claimed a vacancy. To be precise, she simply never needed to." "In ancient society, the hearth was the center of the household. It was a symbol protecting people from the unknown and danger that lay outside." "The inside, not the outside. This side, not that one. She is an old, great deity who presides over everything belonging within 'the boundary,' one who never had any need to feed on the corpses of the dead. If you deal with her, you'd best be careful." Raphaela looked up at the goddess. Since her body was made of flame, it was difficult to make out anything resembling a proper expression. All Raphaela could sense was a blazing gaze and an overwhelming sense of pressure. But without being cowed by it, Raphaela spoke. "Vestania. I address the great Goddess of the Hearth. My name is Raphaela. What I wish to convey to you is—" Raphaela began her explanation with fervor. What she intended to do. Why alchemy was necessary. How it would change the lives of the believers as a result—all of it, calmly and logically. Had this been a university lecture hall, or a speech before a great crowd, it was an explanation that surely would have earned nothing but praise. "And so, O Goddess, I humbly ask that you permit the use of alchemy." 《No.》 But this was neither a lecture hall nor a speech venue, and her counterpart was no human, but a god. 《You mean to teach humans the technique of handling mana? You're asking me, a god, to allow you to teach people how to live without depending on the gods—why would I ever agree to that?》 "What I intend to teach isn't some kind of combat technique." 《Whether it's used for cooking or for burning someone to death, a flame is a flame. The best way to handle something dangerous is to never let it be picked up in the first place.》 At a glance, it seemed like an argument with absolutely no room for compromise. And that made sense, since negotiation was an act of exchange. But if Vestania accepted Raphaela's request, the risk the gods would have to bear was great, while Raphaela had nothing to offer the gods in return. There was no way negotiation could work like this. "No. If things stay this way, this country will simply be destroyed by a second god-slayer." And so, Raphaela raised not a carrot, but a whip. 《A second one?》 Even though Raphaela had uttered a title that was practically the gods' forbidden scale, there was no particular anger or displeasure in Vestania's tone—whether that was due to the goddess's magnanimity, or simply because a mere human like herself couldn't fully read a god's emotions, Raphaela couldn't tell. Not knowing the answer, Raphaela nevertheless pressed on resolutely. Like an explorer who feared the dark but never stopped walking forward. "This country is a patient. It suffered a trauma from something that happened long, long ago, and even after all this time has passed, it still can't forget it—it's still suffering from the aftereffects, trembling in fear." Suppressing any power or technique besides Divine Power, restricting contact with the outside world, trying by any means to turn the continent back into a land overflowing with faith—all of it, Raphaela declared firmly, was a kind of aftereffect of that trauma. "Even if you restrict technology within Hasht, as long as the outside world remains untouched, that technology won't disappear. If anything, that restriction and oppression will only plant resentment in people's hearts, breeding more and more people who hate the gods and this country." Wasn't this very incident proof enough of that? No matter how much Rufus and Raphaela had served as the driving force, would so many people have responded and joined in if this country had actually been doing well all along? "Don't reject them—embrace them. Don't crush them down—take their hand. If you don't, then someday, a second god-slayer will destroy this country." Crackle, crackle. The sound of sparks popping from the firewood echoed through the stillness. 《...I wonder if you're saying that knowingly, or without knowing at all.》 "What?" The instant Raphaela tilted her head at Vestania's cryptic murmur, the hearth's flames surged and engulfed her. Whoosh!! For a moment, Raphaela squeezed her eyes shut, thinking that bringing up the god-slayer in front of an actual god had perhaps been too reckless a provocation after all—but the searing pain and heat she'd braced for never came. Instead, only a gentle warmth wrapped around her body, like sitting by a bonfire on a cold day. When Raphaela checked her own body, she found a mild orange flame billowing around her like a veil, enveloping her form. 《From now on, you are my Apostle.》 And that was that. With no word on what to do from here, no concrete plan for how alchemy was to be spread, not even any long-winded talk about jurisdictional disputes with other gods, the Goddess of the Hearth simply vanished from sight. Now that even the hearth's flame had gone out, all that remained with Raphaela was a heatless flame wrapped around her body like a garment—in other words, undeniable proof that "this one is someone I vouch for." How she used and made the most of it was left entirely up to Raphaela. Because that was a matter for the Earthly Realm. "...Should I call that indifference, or open-handedness?" With a small sigh, Raphaela stepped out of the temple. Up in the sky above, she thought she caught a fleeting glimpse of a giant sword swinging menacingly at the hearth, only to immediately regain its manners the instant the flame swelled to dozens of times its size—but Raphaela made a point of pretending not to notice. If the gods had entrusted the Earthly Realm to humans, then it was only right that humans leave the Heavenly Realm to the gods. On this day, Kargal's Faith-Based Territory became a colony of Vestania's faith. *** There truly were countless forms a farewell could take. After all, given how endlessly the variables multiplied depending on how the countless people of the world met and parted, there was no way farewells could ever be uniform. They came in every shape imaginable. Rufus knew that well enough, too. "Here, take your medical certificate." "...Excuse me?" Even so, wasn't wrapping up a farewell with a medical certificate a bit too novel? Feeling somewhat dazed, Rufus checked the contents of the certificate in his hand. [Excessive obsession with results. An underlying compulsion to produce some kind of achievement in every single action, in everything he does.] [Disregard for life. Disregard for the future. Does not place much value on his own life or future, and displays behavioral patterns suggesting he treats them as disposable.] [Suspicious face. Suspicious speech and conduct. Suspicious existence.] "...Isn't that last one just an insult?" "How is stating a fact an insult?" At Raphaela's sincerely puzzled tilt of the head, as if she genuinely couldn't understand what he meant, Rufus fell silent. When it came down to it, the real problem was Rufus expecting modern sentimentality from someone with medieval sensibilities. "Until now, I only thought of physical ailments as illnesses, but after treating so many people, it seems like sicknesses of the heart matter just as much." And viewed in that light, Raphaela declared without hesitation, he was a patient. From Rufus's perspective, it was a slightly unfair judgment. His suspicious face and suspicious conduct couldn't be helped—that was simply the concept of the role from the start. His disregard for life and the future was only because this wasn't his True Body to begin with. If anything, wouldn't it be the more inhumane way of thinking to value a life that revived even after death more than one that truly ended with death? But there was one thing worth seriously considering: the compulsion to always produce some kind of "result." Because it was true that, at some point, the line between work and leisure had gradually begun to blur. "I'll keep that in mind. It's not something I can simply ignore, coming from the greatest healer in all of Hasht, is it?" "If you're not going to ignore it, it'd be nice if you just stayed here and kept receiving treatment." "That's a bit difficult." "I see. Well, that can't be helped, then." "Hm?" Just as Rufus was puzzling over her unexpectedly easy agreement— "What else can I do? If the patient can't come to me, then I'll just have to make a house call myself." If you don't come to me, then someday, I'll come find you and treat you myself. At those words, delivered as though they were the most obvious thing in the world, Rufus doubled over, clutching his stomach as he burst into low chuckles. "Yes. I'll look forward to it." (E/N: End of current arc. It definitely took more time than I initially wanted to get it done. I will have a bit of free time over the next few days so I'll try to start working on the next one.)