The Saisalis Religious Nation

"At first read, it sounds like a perfectly ordinary descriptor — but tilting the angle slightly, it does, well, catch the eye."

"…Right. So this kind of case exists too. The title itself doesn't necessarily go viral; on the other hand, too tangential to deal with isn't right either."

"Awkward — but, what we are dealing with is, ultimately, a product of human thought and word. The art-city's love of florid phrasing, included — judgment, this time, is particularly hard to settle."

To Merea's puzzled-shaped line, Shaw shrugged as he answered.

Merea, for a moment, dropped his gaze to the empty plate in front of him and went silent.

After holding the thinking shape for a stretch, he raised his face.

"…For reference — anything attached to that information?"

To Merea's line, Shaw shifted his eyes side-to-side as if combing through the head's shelves.

"Right…. Big-picture, clear information — ah…"

"Have something?"

A drawn-out tone surfaced; Merea tilted his head.

"No — this is a step more speculative than the previous, so to speak it aloud feels slightly inadvisable."

"Fine — tell us. Strictly as one piece of intel. Sorting accuracy and validity is, naturally, what I and 〈Knowledge〉 will help with."

"— In that case."

Shaw's caution had been about narrowing the other Demon Lords' thinking by putting speculation on the table.

Speculation, with credulous listeners, can land like fact.

By trade, Shaw was deeply familiar with that speculative register, and his caution about that register was practically branded on him — but the same wasn't to be assumed of others.

The same caution sat in Merea's chest, too.

So, picking up Shaw's hesitancy and the intent behind it, Merea, deliberately up front, threaded whether to believe is post-scrutiny.

That line, for the rest of the Demon Lords, drew a clear line for how to file the information.

Shaw, noticing Merea's small care, internally —

— Surprisingly nimble even on this kind of point. — Or — possibly, second-nature.

— admiration up.

That he could not himself decide whether it was intentional or innate — also, slightly surprised him.

— That I cannot pin which it is — that, exactly, is what fits him as my superior.

For Shaw — the unseen capacity in Merea was, in fact, a quality he liked.

He's the head of a firm at a young age, so it gets misread — but Shaw doesn't dislike working under somebody.

Only — under somebody who cannot get out of his palm, he had no plan to serve.

"Well — this, too, is rumour, but —"

Shaw, having let himself enjoy the present situation for a moment, shifted gears.

What's being asked for now is the information.

"Among the nobles bound for Vergilia — there's a rumour, from merchant-grade sources, that fanatics from 〈Saisalis Religious Nation〉 are mixed in, on a journey out."

"Saisalis —"

Merea, on Shaw's line, immediately replayed the name in his head.

A name he had heard before.

"…Ah."

After a few beats, hazily, it came up.

That was — the time of the escape from the sacred mountain.

"I touched on it briefly during the talk on Lindholm — it's the country that had been pursuing me when I was making my way up the sacred mountain. A city-state with the Pope of Saisalis at the apex."

Shaw's tone made his aversion to Saisalis easy to read.

Merea read it cleanly and asked further.

"For reference — Saisalis, the religion?"

"A monotheism of the kind one finds anywhere. Old. — But lately, in unpleasant ways, slightly mutating."

"Meaning?"

"In one strand — the Pope and the god are starting to be treated as identical."

Shaw, on a faint laugh of disbelief, continued.

"Saisalis, in the older war-age, did real work in keeping people's ethics intact. Doctrine fairly tolerant — and on that, it almost never attacked other religions. Hence — it didn't fork into strange locality-bound variants either; if anything, it ran more like a generic homily — if you no longer have anything to believe in, lean on this. — A general, to-everyone register."

"Mn."

"Yes — compared with sharp-doctrine religions, in raw as-a-support strength, perhaps slightly weaker; but the age being what it was, not letting people forget that level of obvious ethics served real purpose. Truly — without Saisalis, history would, I think, have read differently."

On that point, Shaw's expression shifted to plainly serious.

"That much. I'm not particularly familiar with it, but the kind of effect on people's hearts you describe — I think I get."

"Hah. Mind, some great person of the past said this — so let us try believing those words — not particularly far from that. To that point, individual freedom. — But —"

Shaw, returning to the topic.

"As I said — present-day Saisalis is shifting into something uncomfortable. That a thing like 〈Saisalis Religious Nation〉 was even born is, from the original Saisalis's standpoint, unthinkable. That homily was not native to a place. Setting both feet down, building a holy-land-style settled state — wrong."

In Shaw's line, Merea felt — uncharacteristically — a heat.

A connection, possibly, to the source of Shaw's aversion to present-day Saisalis. He thought so.

"When the religious nation was being founded — believers didn't oppose it?"

"A handful did, surely. But the founding moment was exquisitely chosen. — The transition period. That brief peaceful interval after the wicked-era Demon Lords' and Heroes' upheaval was just ending. In that period — someone did it."

Merea felt as if he hadn't heard the transition-period topic in a while.

It used to come from Flander's mouth, often.

But, lately — this side had been so packed with thinking about the current age that he hadn't spent much time on the period.

"In a peaceful time, fewer people lean on Saisalis relatively, so those who thought peace would simply continue read it as somebody is doing something strange — at most. — On top, the light-doctrine aspect: light doctrine means light lateral linkage between believers."

"In short — do as you like, basically."

Merea, arms folded, sighed through his nose.

"Just so. The very existence of Saisalis has, fundamentally, been read as a negative-route, fallback option. If the era had stayed war-shaped, plenty would have hated to see the cleanly-poor Saisalis sullied by state-power's mud-sloshing. — As, in fact, in the present age."

"But — that the Saisalis Religious Nation is still in operation —"

"Yes — somebody used that base well, and built a reborn Saisalis on top of it. The original founder being the current Pope is, by the calendar, impossible — but a descendant of the founder, or someone near-equivalent, holding the present-day reins is plausible enough."

Shaw, on a wry smile, added — common enough — a hereditary story.

Merea took the line in, mentally arranged the information for a beat.

After a stretch, with a slightly bitter face, he said —

"Tangled. The fact that the name is identical alone makes it impossible to tell. Just like the way the word Demon Lord gets passed down through convenient meaning-shifts."

"Yes."

"All the various things that happened — were, after all, in that transition period. … And whoever did this did it well. The Pope is, as you said, trying to ascend to the same status as the Saisalis god, no?"

"Yes. Tightly guarded, almost certainly. The Pope rarely appears outside, so the protection is hard. If they really did build the Saisalis Religious Nation as a body-protection vehicle, the family had frighteningly good foresight —"

A beat.

Merea, who had been listening, froze with his mouth half open.

He looked to have caught something, and was rapidly reorganising the information in his head.

"— Wait. Foresight?"

It had snagged.

Trusting Shaw's account, Merea ruminated on that information again.

Across the table, Shaw, equally, had stopped.

The two of them, simultaneously, had caught something.

"If they really did have frightening foresight, and — as Shaw said — built the religious nation to protect themselves —"

The two of them were both conscious that that thought was no further than speculation.

Even so — looking at the whole again, a thing was caught.

Speculation. Speculation — but —

"With that foresight, sensing the coming of an age that hunts Demon Lords (heroes), a Hero or Demon Lord of that period founded the Saisalis Religious Nation to protect themselves — that read isn't impossible. — Mind, possibly I'm over-reading."

"No — by chance — I, just now, thought the same —"

Shaw, hand to chin in a serious face, deep in thought.

"— Mind — it would be wise to add the caveat, taking the most convenient interpretation."

Shaw, finally, added.

"Right. Because the present age is the age of Demon-Lord-hunting, the read may simply look clean. Could just be — line-the-pockets, simple as that."

Merea nodded.

"Yes. Mind — the rumour about seeing them on the art-city road is here on the table; it'll, eventually, need a proper investigation."

"How exactly did that merchant know the man was a Saisalis-Religious-Nation believer, though?"

"For zealots fully steeped in the new-Saisalis Religious Nation specifically — there is a clear marker."

"Oh? What?"

Shaw, in slow gesture, touched his own neck.

"On the side of the neck — a mark. A mark stylised on the human eye. Heavily decorated, mind."

"Right. So when heading toward the art-city, that goes into the head as well."

"…Mind — somewhere along the way it's been decided we're going to the art-city, but — Merea, aren't you fidgeting and quietly deciding on your own?"

"Eh?!"

Merea's shoulder jumped; his body went rigid.

To his left, Marisa was throwing a flat-eyed look at him.

"Merea-sama. — Internally — if I just go to the art-city I escape that paper-mountain even temporarily — were you, by any chance, considering?"

"N-not at all~"

"Truly?"

"R-real-really. — But — but, look? — Everyone's busy, we finally have intel coming in, we have nothing else of comparable shape, the distance isn't too far, and — as 〈Sword (Emelie)〉's, plus head of the Demon Lord Alliance, time I started moving in real terms — say?"

Throwing a frightened side-glance at Marisa, Merea was, for a stretch, exposed to her appraising gaze.

Then Marisa, taking her eye off Merea once, swept the dining hall.

The eye carried an anyone with anything else, speak prompt.

But — no voice came back.

Which is to say — currently, that really is the only solid lead.

Confirming that, Marisa, finally, dropped the fully composed posture, let out a small sigh, and turned her gaze back to Merea.

"Hah. — Understood. Let's go scout. However — there's destabilising intel in the picture, so for safety, multiple. I, obviously, accompany. That way the study sessions run on the road as well."

"Ah, yes…"

"As for the rest — well, you are the head, Merea-sama, so you choose. — On a first pass of your read, where corrections are needed I'll point them out."

"Eh? I am the head, right? — Why does the work-pattern look junior-level?"

"Merea-sama — do you seek attendants who only nod at every decision you make?"

"I'm sorry, please advise me, deciding things solo is still slightly frightening."

"Yes, with pleasure."

Marisa returned an enchanting smile.

In the next motion she took Merea's left hand —

"Mind — at the moment of moments, your will I'll simply follow. I, if you order me to die, am ready to. On top of that — if you're about to lose your life, even without an order, I will move on my own."

"That moment will not come, and that order I will not give. — On top of that — dying to shield me — I do not allow."

To Merea's, suddenly firm, line, Marisa fixed a look.

Merea's eyes, holding a brilliant light of will, were running clean and straight into Marisa's.

Force that brooked no argument was on him.

"Hehe — a joke."

So saying, after a moment, Marisa lowered her eyes.

She let her hand off Merea's and slowly rose.

"Right then — today's banquet, with that, we'll close — yes?"

"Yes. — On the art-city matter, I'll think after this and notify everyone soon."

"As you wish. — Right — everyone, plates away and back to your stations. Those attached to 〈Sword (Emelie)〉 may be on the art-city expedition, so prepare accordingly."

Marisa clapped twice; a light sound rang in the dining hall.

On that signal, the Demon Lords rose with their dishes.

"Hah — I always think this — but, looking at this, we really do read like an ordinary big family. In a place like this, you'd expect servants out, doing the cleanup in a flash; but in the end — self-clean."

"Merea-sama's plates I could handle, but you are so far past unable-at-housework that this also serves as your training."

"…For reference — how many plates have I broken so far…"

"Ten plates in seven days. The pace is easing — but day one was something. That you've stopped punching plates clean through with your thumb alone is significant improvement."

"Each plate trims my pocket-money…"

"Complaints — to 〈Wallet (Listale)〉, please."

"It's entirely my fault, so I cannot, in fact, file a complaint!"

Merea, struck-down, slumped back into the chair and looked up at the ceiling.

Marisa, watching, let a small breath out —

"I'll watch you today again, so — let's practise once more."

"Please, do…"

— and in the end, the gaze she sent Merea was like an older sister watching over a younger brother — gentle. </parameter> </invoke>