The gloomy sky had once again opened its floodgates, and countless raindrops hammered against the sign above the bookstore. The shop had no proper name. According to Oscar, a bookstore ought to have an extraordinarily cool name if its owner was to properly display his talent. Unfortunately, he still had not thought of one.
Drip, drip, patter, patter—the pale mist outside began to surge once more.
"Looks like Nordro's plans have fallen through."
Lloyd's expression darkened. As though unable to endure the prolonged silence any longer, he turned to Oscar.
"Can't be helped. Business is like that—sometimes you make money, sometimes you lose it… Though, technically speaking, we didn't lose much."
Oscar could sense the complicated look in Lloyd's eyes, yet he had no idea where to begin.
"The Purification Bureau isn't trustworthy. At the very least, you can't place your complete trust in them," Oscar said. "That's why you made that request of me, isn't it?"
"The Purification Bureau… the secret organization of Inlwig that fights the demons. Though, in truth, they claim to be defending humanity's sanity. But we both know who they really serve—the mysterious Queen Victoria. Even Nordro is the same, isn't it?"
"It's not quite like that. I already told you: absolute monarchical rule wouldn't work in Nordro. Yes, Nordro was built upon the foundation of Inlwig, but Queen Victoria is little more than a rather large shareholder in our country. She can't control us completely, much less the organization behind Nordro."
"The Founders?"
Lloyd murmured the name of that mysterious organization.
Oscar was one of its members. Nordro itself was merely one of the identities the organization presented to the outside world. Come to think of it, this was by far the most mysterious organization Lloyd had ever come into contact with. He knew almost nothing about it.
"Would Queen Victoria really allow an organization like yours to exist?"
Lloyd couldn't understand it. Nordro's influence overseas was terrifyingly vast, its colonies scattered across every coast. Yet an organization of such immense power was somehow not under Queen Victoria's complete control.
"There are no absolute enemies. There are only absolute interests."
Oscar narrowed his eyes as he looked at Lloyd.
"You and the Purification Bureau aren't any different. You can join forces because you share the same goal, yet because of the smallest disagreements, you remain wary of one another."
Lloyd fell silent. The false Holy Grail he carried with him was precisely what made the Purification Bureau so wary of him.
"This world is complicated. Complicated enough to frighten me. Sometimes, I think it's even more terrifying than the demons themselves.
"The mysteries of demons, the mysteries of alchemy… and then there are enormous secret organizations like yours. The Founders? What kind of nation are you trying to build?"
Lloyd spoke calmly. He was simply tired of all of it.
"And besides, there are so many other countries in this world. The Viking nations, Laibai, Gaulnaro… More or less, they all know that demons exist, don't they? So how do they fight them? Those are all unknowns. At least, I don't know. And if we are all living beneath the same shadow, what other organizations are hiding within it?"
After a long silence, he continued.
"Although Shelmans is dead, I suppose I've completed Nordro's assignment, haven't I?"
Oscar nodded. Nordro was vast and powerful. There was no reason for them to make things difficult for Lloyd over something like this.
"Then what we discussed before…"
"It still stands. If you need help, and you believe the Purification Bureau poses a threat to you, we'll assist you."
"Wouldn't that mean you're opposing Queen Victoria? Wouldn't that be treason?"
"We're a rather special group of people. I mean the Founders, not Nordro," Oscar explained. "Just as it was written in The Republic, we long to build a beautiful nation. Do you really think the fact that we're Inlwigian can bind us?"
"The reason Nordro's influence within Inlwig is so low is, to a certain extent, also a concession to Queen Victoria."
"So, in Queen Victoria's eyes, you're more like a bunch of rebellious traitors?"
An uncontrollable behemoth of a group—far larger than anyone could imagine. It stretched across countless kingdoms and seas, its banners flying on every continent. Beneath their rule, the sun itself seemed never to set.
"Not quite. It's complicated. It has to do with power and interests, and those things are usually accompanied by endless calculations."
Oscar laughed.
"But when all is said and done, I'm just some damn writer. What does any of this have to do with me?"
"Some are warriors. Some are politicians. Some are just damn writers. Everyone has their own role to play. All for the sake of building an ideal nation."
"An ideal nation," Lloyd repeated. "A world that idealized… I don't think you can create such a thing."
"Of course we can't. But just because something can't be done doesn't mean we should stop trying, does it?"
"We were founded a very, very long time ago. At least far longer ago than anyone would imagine. And yet, even now, all we've managed to do is maintain Nordro and slowly lay the foundations of our nation."
A mysterious smile appeared on Oscar's face.
"Just like every story has a beginning, a source from which everything flows. For some reason, our story bears a strange resemblance to yours."
"What do you mean?"
"The story in your Gospel concerning the origins of the Evangelical Church. Honestly, when you think about it, that story is completely absurd. A group of people could no longer endure the darkness of the world, and then one night—or perhaps after one particularly drunken night—someone experienced some strange vision. Someone told him that the North possessed knowledge that offered hope.
"So those people went north in a half-mad frenzy, and several years later they returned with forbidden knowledge concerning Secret Blood."
Oscar couldn't help but marvel.
"Even a knightly romance wouldn't dare write something like that… Yet it actually happened. Though so much time has passed that no one can say whether any of it is true."
"And what does any of this have to do with the Founders?" Lloyd asked.
A few decades ago, if a priest had heard Oscar speak of the Gospel this way, it would have been outright blasphemy. The priest would probably have attacked the heretic on the spot. But times had changed, and Lloyd simply didn't care.
"Because our origins are also in the North…"
Oscar deliberately lowered his voice, putting on an air of mystery.
"We're rather special. There are certain things I can't tell you. But we're quite similar to you. A few homeless wanderers set sail from the North. They wanted to build an ideal nation…
"And that was where the story began."
Lloyd's expression changed. His gaze sharpened.
"Then what about The Republic?"
Books were strange things. Miracles, in their own right. And when countless different miracles were piled one upon another, they became the foundation upon which humanity built its magnificent civilization.
The appearance of books meant that knowledge was no longer bound by the passage of time. It could be passed from one generation to another. And because books existed, humanity could record everything it experienced, and from that, history itself was born.
Lloyd had assumed that a group of people had been inspired by The Republic and subsequently set out to build that ideal nation. But now, it seemed they had appeared even before the book itself.
"The Republic? Plato was one of our members as well. He's been dead for a very, very long time, but his work certainly strengthened our ideals."
Oscar's voice suddenly became somewhat despondent.
"Of course, that's also why a damn writer like me was fortunate enough to become a member of the Founders. They've always hoped I might write something of my own…"
Perhaps out of embarrassment, Oscar didn't continue.
"Your recruitment standards really are rather strange…"
"Interested in joining?"
Oscar suddenly asked.
Lloyd froze. He clearly hadn't expected the question. Oscar immediately pressed on.
"You've already turned your back on the Evangelical Church, and the Purification Bureau isn't exactly treating you kindly anymore. Why not switch sides and come work with me?"
Lloyd looked at Oscar's utterly serious expression. After a long while, he laughed.
"Forget it. I'm a foreigner. I belong nowhere. As for nations and all that… it's simply too grand for someone like me."
"Is killing demons not grand?"
Oscar countered, then reached over and patted Lloyd on the shoulder.
"Lloyd Holmes, you're actually a great man too. Even if no one knows your name, you've always stood on the front line against the demons. You have from the beginning, and you still do. You've prevented countless tragedies from happening."
Oscar's praise did not make Lloyd happy. Instead, it only made him feel small.
After reading Shelmans's notes, Lloyd had realized that he had changed.
The time had been so short, yet in Buskaro's house, aboard the Iron Serpent as it raced along its tracks, Lloyd had kept thinking.
What was it, exactly, that he wanted to do?
Lloyd knew perfectly well what he wanted.
Eradicate every demon.
But then… how?
Yes. How?
Until now, Lloyd had always carried a burning rage within him. He had never thought about the deeper, more complicated world beneath everything. He simply wanted to swing his sword in fury and cut down every demon in his path.
Selyu had been right. He was a madman walking the road to destruction.
But endless slaughter could solve nothing. The demons would continue to appear, again and again.
It was only after reading Shelmans's notes—after seeing his attempt to trace the mystery of the demons back to its origin, to find the root of everything—that Lloyd began to think more deeply.
Only then did he realize that the world was not limited to what lay before his eyes.
There were things he could not see.
The "plague" known as the Demons.
The "Patient Zero" known as the Primordial Demon.
This world was shrouded in mysteries and falsehoods. No matter how sharp the nail-sword might be, it could never sever all of them.
Lloyd said nothing. He merely lowered his head and remained silent.
"The North…"
Lloyd finally spoke.
"I don't know why, but it seems that your origins and the origins of the Evangelical Church both lie in the same place."
Tracing everything back to its source.
"I don't know. I've only heard other members say so…"
Oscar looked at the troubled Lloyd and grinned.
"But you've been holed up in Old Dunling for far too long, Lloyd. How many years has it been? Seven?"
"Actually, the stories I write are all true…"
Oscar said it with complete seriousness.
"At least, most of them are."
Under Lloyd's deeply skeptical gaze, Oscar finally changed his wording.
"All right. Forget the artistic embellishments. I really did travel to many places with Nordro's fleets. None of them were as advanced as Old Dunling, and none were as powerful as Inlwig, but they were different places. Wonderful places.
"I've seen whales breaching across the open sea. I've watched enormous glaciers collapse into the ocean. I've fought cannibals in the rainforests of the Fertile Lands. I've passed through more countries than I can count. There was even a moment when I wanted to raise the sails and head east.
"Even if it was impossibly far away. Even if I might never return.
"Lloyd, this world is vast. Truly vast. So vast that even now, there are countless things we have never understood. Old Dunling may be advanced, bathing in the radiance of technology, but when all is said and done, it is still only a city."
At that moment, Oscar truly looked like an adventurer.
The landscapes that existed only in books were places he had witnessed with his own eyes.
"Old Dunling is a miniature of the world. But only a miniature. It isn't the real world.
"You won't find every truth within this city. Just like the stories people sing about… and my own writing. All of those things have passed through other people's hands. They've been altered by a little artistic embellishment here and there, and in the process, they've lost something of their original shape.
"Sometimes, you have to see it all with your own eyes."
Oscar stared intently into Lloyd's gray-blue eyes.
Lloyd had never said anything, but Oscar could sense that Shelmans's death was not so simple. There were secrets buried beneath it. Yet for some reason, Lloyd did not want to tell him.
"If the Purification Bureau eventually decides to join forces with the New Order and forcibly confiscate the false Holy Grail inside you, Nordro and the Founders will provide you with assistance. I've already planned an escape route. Once you leave Inlwig's territory, the rest can be left to us."
Oscar was unexpectedly confident about this.
"An escape route? What route?"
Lloyd was curious. Old Dunling was tightly controlled by the Purification Bureau through countless systems and facilities. If they decided to hunt him down, Lloyd wasn't even sure he could escape the city alive.
"The railways were the main connection between Old Dunling and the outside world. But the Iron Serpent system has long since fallen firmly into the hands of the Purification Bureau. Once the Bureau sets its sights on Lloyd, escaping Old Dunling by rail is practically impossible.
"That leaves only the civilian airships, which have only recently begun to emerge. As a new form of civilian transportation, the Purification Bureau needs time to establish control over them.
"That is the only loophole."
Lloyd didn't wait for Oscar to confirm his guess. He simply stood up, preparing to leave.
"What are you going to do?"
"What do you think I'm going to do?" Lloyd replied with a terrible joke. "The great Lloyd Holmes is, of course, going to kill demons. And if I'm not killing demons, then I'm probably on my way to kill demons."
Oscar looked at him and responded with a terrible joke of his own.
"Then can I write a knightly novel based on you?"
"The Adventures of Lloyd Holmes?"
"Actually, I was thinking… how about The Legend of the Demon-Slaying Hunter?"
Lloyd laughed.
He wasn't sure whether it was the ridiculous title that amused him, or something else entirely.
He stopped paying attention to the eccentric writer whose mind seemed capable of leaping across entire worlds in a single breath. Then he pushed open the door and disappeared into the curtain of rain.