Episode 78 — A Declaration of War to an Old Friend

The central plaza of the elven village, Ern.

In a space once defined by beauty, now stagnant with the stench of decay and despair, a man’s harsh voice rang out.

"I will not allow it. Absolutely not, Elishua!"

The speaker was Duran—Village Chief and Guardian of Ern. He possessed silver hair tied back, the sharp ears characteristic of elves, and the well-trained physique of a warrior. At his feet, the "ant survey data" and the "Ant Highway" blueprints Elishua had spread out lay coldly discarded.

"You want to let vulgar insects like ants crawl over the spirit trees? Is this the 'wisdom' you learned in the human city? You intend to defile the proud Ern Forest with filthy local superstitions!"

"Father! This is not superstition! It is a concrete solution derived by Zect!"

"Silence! I care not who this 'Zect' is. Only the prayers of the spirits and the pride of us elves can save the forest. Is your magic now reduced to crawling in the mud and counting bugs? Have you no shame!"

Duran’s words rippled through the hearts of the elven elders who were sunk in despair, manifesting as cold rejection. Elishua bit her lip, her shoulders trembling with frustration. The sheer irrationality of having her days of crawling through mud and observing insects dismissed with a single word like "impurity" stung her.

It was then.

*Clack. Clack.*

A steady, heavy sound of footsteps struck the cobblestones. A man stepped forward from behind Elishua.

"...You haven't changed a bit, Duran. Twenty years later, it seems that blindness you call 'nobility' hasn't healed in the slightest."

Duran’s brow twitched. He pierced the Knight Captain of Felsen standing before him with an icy gaze.

"Bartos... What business does a hound of Felsen have here? This is no place for the likes of you."

"A sanctuary? Don't make me laugh."

Bartos walked right up to Duran’s face.

"Is the 'sanctuary' you speak of a place where fruit rots, trees scream, and the people shiver with hunger? You would simply watch the forest die just to protect your pride. Is that the definition of 'guardianship' you learned!"

"What could you possibly know of my forest! If the prayers do not reach, it is because our faith is lacking—"

"If prayers could fix bugs, I’d be praying right alongside you!"

Bartos’s roar shook the plaza. Those were the words of dry rationalism that Zect had once spat out.

"Duran! While you’ve been hiding in that old shell you call 'pride,' your daughter has been crawling through mud, getting stung by insects, and enduring the humiliation of having her magic denied, all to gather the truth! Open your eyes, you coward!"

Bartos thrust a plastic cup—stained with mud and wriggling with ants and caterpillars—right in front of Duran’s eyes.

"Look! These tiny living beings are eliminating the 'enemies' devouring the forest far faster and more ruthlessly than your prayers! This is reality! This is the most direct solution derived by the Master of Felsen!"

"---!"

"Duran. Do you remember Alisted? He refused to retreat just to protect his pride on the battlefield, and he got every single one of his subordinates killed. How are you any different from the fool we spat on back then!"

Color rapidly drained from Duran’s face. Bartos softened his expression for just a moment and placed a hand on Elishua’s shoulder.

"...As a father, accept and inspect the results of this girl's battle properly."

A long, long silence stretched across the plaza. Eventually, Duran slowly reached out with a trembling hand and took the cup Elishua had brought back.

"...Elishua. You have done well."

With those few words, the curse known as "impurity" that had bound the village crumbled away.

***

"Wait... so Elishua’s dad and Bartos were in the same class?"

I stared at the copy of the old register Gustav had handed me.

"Yes. Lord Duran, Elishua’s father, once studied abroad from the elven village at the Royal Capital’s Knight Academy. There, he sat side-by-side with Bartos in their younger days."

Gustav began to speak calmly about the academy of the past.

"I’ve heard they were rivals who competed over grades back then. Bartos was the gritty practical type, while Lord Duran was the elegant idealist. ...However, they were close friends who recognized each other's worth."

"I see. No wonder Bartos was so fired up when I assigned him this mission."

I took a sip of my cola and leaned my weight deep into the backrest. Old friends. Rivals. Facing a proud elf, his old classmate—the person who knew him best—went to shove reality down his throat.

(That’s way too dramatic. That kind of backstory gives me heartburn in my lazy life. ...But hey, whatever. If Bartos knows Duran’s vulnerabilities best, it means the implementation cost is kept to a minimum.)

"So, Gustav. How are things looking at the village? Do you think the ant operation will work?"

"With those two moving together, failure is impossible. Lord Duran is stubborn, but once convinced, he is a man who serves with more devotion than anyone. Since Bartos has drawn that out of him, the rest is just a matter of stringing twine."

Gustav nodded with conviction.

"Is that so. Then there's nothing left for me to do."

The truth of the field can only be moved by the people on the field. All I can do is hand over the "source code" known as the optimal solution and assign the appropriate "authorized users" to execute it.

"Meow. (You didn't move a single step, yet you let others handle all the emotional heavy lifting.)"

The 'Exclusive Control Access Patch via Old Friend.' Installation: Started. Deep in the distant forest, I decided to wish in my dreams for the countless apostles of the spirits to begin running along their new highways.

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