Chapter 49 - Aedrin - 3

The next day, before Aedrin’s roots.

Watching Mari manifest her divine powers, Bera described what was happening before his eyes to Renée.

“Lady Mari’s divine energy is the green of summer foliage. As the energy flowing from her fingertips seeps into Aedrin, the leaves are regaining their vitality. I can also see new bark growing over the places where it was stripped away.”

The divine powers of vitality.

This was Bera’s first time seeing them in person, but he knew well how useful those powers could be in war.

At their simplest, they could increase the fighting ability of an entire legion. Beyond that, they could replenish rapidly dwindling food supplies on the spot, whether an army was on the march or a legion had been cut off.

With nothing more than seeds, the divine powers of abundance could produce an endless supply of food.

Bera remembered it clearly. At the height of the war against the Demon King, Mari had gone to an isolated fortress on the front line and produced food for three months, ultimately ensuring that its defenders held out.

‘That cost me a fair bit, too.’

At the time, he had judged that the front would retreat and pulled out every black-market network he had established near the battlefield. He had made that decision to avoid needless losses among his people, but Mari’s defense of the fortress had kept the front intact, turning his decision into a loss.

As memories of his previous life left Bera staring absently at Aedrin, Renée, who was holding his hand, spoke.

“... Is even this not enough?”

She meant Aedrin’s growth. Though she could not see it, Renée could clearly sense the divine energy flowing from Mari.

In sheer quantity, Mari’s divine energy far surpassed her own.

Could even so much divine energy, even powers that governed growth, not heal Aedrin?

“Indeed. Mother’s body grows in accordance with her essence.”

It was Friede who answered.

“No matter how much divine energy is poured into her body, only a tiny fraction reaches Mother’s essence. Naturally, this method has its limits.”

The words were spoken in a casual tone, with a faint suggestion of amusement laid over them.

Hearing them, Renée felt her curiosity about Friede rising once more.

“... Are you all right with this?”

“With what?”

“At this rate, everything will end. But...”

You seem so unconcerned.

She swallowed the rest. It was, after all, only her own interpretation.

Yet Friede understood what Renée wanted to say. The long years granted to the elf had provided enough intuition to recognize that much.

“... I consider it inevitable. Hmm, does not everything in this world have an end? Mother’s long, long life, and the lives of the elves who protect her, too. We have merely reached the end we were always meant to meet.”

Friede genuinely believed that. What was destined to come had arrived, and all that remained was to welcome it. Why would she question that?

“Are we not all mortals within the order of providence?”

For some reason, Renée found Friede’s words, and the barrenness within them, sad. She continued.

“Even so, you can still want to live.”

“Hmm?”

“I think it’s only natural to hope that, even if the end must come someday, it won’t be today.”

She turned her head toward Friede.

As she spoke, Renée remembered her past—the years she had spent curled beneath her blankets, crying.

“I think you can want to live even when everything is hopeless, even when you can’t see any hope at all. And even if you wish for the end, I think it’s natural to want that end to be a happy one.”

That was why she had clung to prayer. She could see no hope, yet she still wished for it. She believed that if she kept living, someday she might regain the light. She wished for her end to come beneath a radiant light.

To Renée, then, this was only natural.

No one would want to despair. Everyone would hope for light to grace their end.

They would not wish for an end forced upon them like this, an end akin to a calamity.

“Friede, is there nothing you would regret leaving behind?”

Friede fell silent for a moment, seemingly considering Renée’s words, then looked at Aedrin and answered.

“Nothing.”

The answer was firm.

“I do not know how this will sound, but... I have nothing to regret leaving behind. Does regret not arise from things left unfinished? Yet I have nothing unfinished. I possessed the talent to accomplish anything I wanted, and all the time I could wish for to accomplish it at my leisure.”

Friede continued, recalling the distant past, the days of childhood.

“Now that I think of it, I have never yearned for anything. Hmm, I am sorry I cannot sympathize.”

“N-no, that isn’t...”

Startled by Friede’s words, Renée hastened to reply.

Friede smiled faintly at her reaction, then added,

“Well, perhaps you are not entirely wrong, Saintess. The siblings who ran away do wish to keep living, just as you said.”

The elf was referring to the Noir.

“I cannot understand it myself, but... surely those siblings harbor what you call longing. Ah, is this what one calls romanticism?”

The playful ending to Friede’s words stirred a small question in Renée.

“... Do you not resent them?”

“Why should I?”

“They betrayed you. I heard they’re after Aedrin, and that you’re fighting them even now.”

“One could see it that way. But I love my siblings. I respect them. It is only because we walk different paths that I have no choice but to turn my back on them.”

A lie.

These words, too, held no emotion.

Listening to words that betrayed not the slightest feeling, Renée felt as though she had come to understand something about Friede.

‘Oh.’

This elf did not know emotion.

She did not know why, but she could at least tell that the elf called Friede felt no longing at all.

To Friede, all of this—life, death, and every conflict in between—was merely a single current.

Friede was an utter bystander, simply observing its flow.

Renée offered no further opinion. She merely felt sorrow.

Sorrow for the life of this elf, who had simply lived through long, long years without any yearning—a life Renée could not even begin to imagine.

“... I see.”

Her voice sank of its own accord.

Seeing Renée’s expression darken, Friede felt a small flicker of puzzlement.

“What is it? Is something troubling you?”

“No. It’s just...”

Renée chose her next words, feeling it would be rude to voice what she had been thinking.

“... I think it’s a little sad for siblings to fight.”

That was what she finally managed to say: a remark about the conflict with the Noir.

“Indeed. It is a great pity. We can no longer discern those siblings’ intentions.”

“No longer?”

“Precisely. No longer. Before our siblings cut off their ears, we, too, could vaguely sense their intentions.”

Renée tilted her head.

“What do their ears have to do with that?”

“Hmm, yes. It is only natural that you would not know. Elven ears contain a highly concentrated network of nerves. At the tips of these ears are nerves connected to Mother, and through them, elves share the emotions of Mother and their other siblings.”

“Oh...”

So that was how it worked. Though she understood, Renée’s expression began to turn rather strange.

‘That’s a little...’

For some reason, she felt as though the romance surrounding elves had vanished. It was not particularly pleasant to have something rooted in childhood wonder explained in scholarly terms.

Friede smiled at Renée’s oddly contorted expression and continued.

“Disappointed? I suppose you might be. Every visitor from outside who heard this reacted much the same way.”

“Ha ha...”

“Elves possess greater scholarly depth than you might imagine. There is no better pastime for easing the boredom of our long years.”

Renée nodded, then asked,

“Then are you still sharing emotions with those who haven’t cut off their ears?”

“Indeed. Our siblings scouting at the entrance to the Great Forest feel tense. Those who went to harvest fruit feel a sense of accomplishment. And...”

Friede’s tone shifted, embellished with artificial emotion.

Renée thought the words sounded like an observer’s report.

* * *

A few more days passed.

During that time, Renée and her companions had done... nothing.

Partly because there was nothing they could do for the elves right away, and partly because the elves had asked nothing of them.

So Renée killed time with trivial activities, walking the forest paths with Bera or listening to Mari talk about life in the forest.

Naturally, frustration welled within her.

She was ashamed to be merely a guest eating their food while things were so dire. She wanted to help, yet her inability to do anything left her feeling powerless.

Today, as she sat on Aedrin’s root bearing that same frustration, Renée sensed something different in the atmosphere around her.

“Bera.”

“... Yes.”

“There’s a lot of commotion.”

More sounds than usual mingled together. The footsteps she heard carried a sense of urgency.

The elves spoke too softly for her to make out their conversations clearly, but even so, Renée could identify the cause of this atmosphere.

The smell of blood.

A heavy scent of blood drifted toward her on the wind from afar.

“What’s happening?”

Bera hesitated at Renée’s question.

He was wondering whether he should describe the scene before him.

Members of the scouting party that had left early at dawn were returning with grave injuries.

One had lost an arm. Another was missing a leg below the knee.

Among them were some who had already died, their bodies brought back as corpses.

His hesitation lingered.

Renée gripped his hand more tightly and pressed him.

“Bera. No lying.”

Her expression was set. Faced with her resolute manner, Bera lowered his head slightly and answered, still hesitant.

“... Some of those returning from scouting have suffered serious injuries.”

“Are they badly hurt?”

“Yes.”

After answering, Bera opened and closed his mouth a few times before adding,

“... There are dead as well.”

Renée’s body abruptly went still.

“It seems there was a clash.”

He must have meant a clash with the Noir.

Renée bit her lip at his words, then rose.

“Saintess?”

“Take me to them.”

She could not remain like this. Surely some of the elves had placed their hopes in her. She could not simply keep eating their food and doing nothing. Even if she could not save Aedrin, she had to offer whatever help she could.

That was what she believed.

Bera knew that when Renée wore such a resolute expression, she would never listen to his objections.

“... Yes.”

* * *

In a broad clearing, Friede tilted their head at the sight of Renée and Bera approaching from a distance.

“What brings you here?”

“I came because I want to help.”

“Hmm?”

“I heard there were injured people.”

Renée focused her senses on what reached her.

Stifled groans. Hollow breaths escaping now and then. The thick, metallic smell of blood.

All of it was steeped in intense pain.

“I’ll heal them.”

Renée’s divine powers, the sacred arts she had learned, could heal these people.

Looking at Renée’s set expression, Friede replied,

“Why go to the trouble?”

Renée abruptly froze. Bera narrowed his eyes at Friede.

Under their attention, Friede let out an “Ah,” then added,

“Hmm, I mean nothing else by it. We cannot impose such a burden on a guest, can we? And our siblings would have anticipated injuries like these.”

Friede had reasons of their own for saying so.

“Our siblings are willingly accepting death now. They are dying to protect Mother, so they consider it inevitable.”

Friede believed this reasoning was sound. The emotions reaching the elf took the form of resolve and acceptance. The siblings sensed their own impending deaths.

Yet those words did not persuade Renée.

“That’s different.”

“Hmm?”

Renée understood why Friede spoke that way.

She also knew it was wrong.

“No one wishes to die in pain. Accepting it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Dying with resolve did not mean that death was not frightening.

Renée knew how frail a person could become before the despair that finally confronted them, and what longing lay within.

She knew that, at least here and now, Friede’s judgment founded on reason was useless.

“Let me try to heal them.”

Renée wanted this barren elf to understand.

Without knowing emotion, Friede might not be able to feel it. Even so, she hoped the elf could at least understand intellectually that an end like this was not happiness.

Unbeknownst to Renée, her divine powers were already responding to that wish.