The Queen Bee Among the Kingless Swarm
After finishing his words, Ulrich stepped inside the shrine. The other two followed him and offered prayers to Keme's statue, but he did not pray. He simply gazed up at the statue.
Standing outside the shrine, Ella pressed her lips together and watched Ulrich's back.
'A watcher of spiritists?'
And that person is you? His claim unsettled her.
It was something she had never heard before—something even her father had never mentioned. But that wasn't all. The many names carved on the statue's base all belonged to a single person, and there was even a reason for those numerous names.
He had said it himself—he had lived a very long time. He had claimed to have received a request from the four spirits directly created by the gods. Ella didn't know about such "watchers," but she did know about the four spirits.
'Father said there were four kings of spirits, and that they lived long ago… even into the Age of Fairies. If what he says is true—that he received a request directly from them—then it means he's been alive since that era.'
How could that be possible?
When did the Age of Fairies end? When did the minions of the evil god rise and bring that era to ruin? It was a distant past—far beyond even thousands of years ago.
'I've heard that fairies live a very long time, but…'
Ella glanced at Ulrich's ears, which were not pointed.
'No matter how I look at him, he's not a fairy.'
She had never seen a fairy before, but his appearance was far from what she imagined. His features were well-formed, but not so beautiful as to be mistaken for one.
What should she ask? Where should she even begin? Ella pondered deeply. She needed to question him to determine whether his claims were true or false—but for a girl who hadn't even come of age yet, it was far too difficult.
"As always, you certainly have quite a past."
Right then, Roberta spoke as she stepped out of the shrine.
"It couldn't be otherwise. If you lived as long as I have, you'd be the same."
"Is that so? I don't think I'd have as many as you, Ulrich."
"Roberta, how old do you think I am?"
"Well… I'd say well over ten thousand years."
Ten thousand?
Listening to their conversation, Ella blinked in shock.
Though her tone was light, Roberta's eyes as she looked at Ulrich were not smiling. Even Fritz, the boy, showed no reaction to such an absurd number.
"Ten thousand, huh. Since a human life lasts at most a hundred years, living ten thousand years would be like living a hundred lifetimes, wouldn't it? Then consider this—what would it be like if a person lived a hundred lives?"
Roberta licked her dry lips as she regarded him.
"If that person didn't stay in one place for their whole life, and instead wandered while changing names like someone I know… they would experience all kinds of things."
She went on to say that in such a life, someone might ask him to become a godfather to their child, he might save someone by chance from danger, or inherit a task someone else failed to complete.
"My answer is the same. I am one person, but the world is vast and time is plentiful. At one point I lived as a fisherman by the sea, and at another as a tailor in the city."
"It's almost like reincarnation," he added.
'If he really has lived that long… I suppose it would be.'
Ella frowned. The more she listened, the more tangled her thoughts became instead of clearing up.
She wanted someone to ask about the root of it all—Ulrich's lifespan—but no one did. Instead, they simply nodded as if they understood.
There was a shared understanding between them that Ella did not have. Unable to grasp it, her confusion showed plainly on her face, and Roberta smiled softly when she saw it.
"You remind me of my younger self."
"Me?"
The three followed Ulrich as he descended the steps along the hillside.
"I was like that too."
"So you're saying you're not anymore?"
"Now… I have no choice but to believe."
After a brief pause, Roberta spoke again.
"He told you why he came here, didn't he?"
"He said… it was because of a request."
Because the four spirits had asked him, he had returned here to confirm the duty, authority, and succession.
"Yes. Fulfilling that request is likely his purpose. And I think when that purpose is achieved, the questions you're holding will be answered as well. Though I can't say all of them."
Ella tilted her head slightly, looking at her.
"Because it won't end with just confirmation."
A moment later, Ella let out a soft "Ah."
She understood what Roberta meant. If it didn't end with mere confirmation, then he would have to demonstrate something—something that would support his claim.
"I suppose so."
Though she answered without certainty—more like she hoped it would be true—Ella looked down at Ulrich descending the steps. Roberta leaned in and whispered,
"So, I have a favor to ask of you, sister."
The three of them visited the estate of Ella and her brother, Valdemar.
Valdemar was startled when his younger sister suddenly brought three outsiders home, but he readily offered them rooms—because one of them was a priest.
A priest of the Holy Church held authority wherever they went. Even though Roberta said they had only stopped by the village to rest from their journey, Valdemar was the one who suggested they stay at the estate.
Roberta expressed her gratitude humbly. "Then we will impose on you for a few days, brother." Soon after, the villagers came to request various rites from her—sacraments, healing, and more—and while she attended to them, Ella took the other two out of the estate.
"Um… should I introduce you one by one?"
As they walked along the village road, Ulrich looked around.
"No. There's no need to rush. Today, I'll just observe from a distance."
Wherever his gaze fell, one or two spirits could be seen—on rooftops, in the sky, on windowsills, and scattered all throughout the village.
Of course, even though they were everywhere, they were far fewer in number than people. Still, their constant chatter made their presence just as noticeable.
"Wow, there are really a lot of spirits here." Fritz's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I hardly ever saw any in Osnover, but here they're everywhere. Is this place unusual?"
"Both places are extremes. In Osnover, the influence of the Ice Peninsula disrupts the flow of mana, making it difficult for spirits to appear. Here, the flow is pure—and there was also a spiritist."
Fritz tilted his head.
"Does a spiritist affect that too?"
"Just as someone once compared spirits to bees, a spiritist can be compared to a queen bee. Just as a queen bee lays eggs, a spiritist can create spirits when needed."
Ella recalled the sight of her father creating spirits.
In the shrine, he would offer a prayer to the heavens, bringing his hands together with reverence—and light would glow between them as a spirit took form.
The spirits born that way tended to rank higher than those formed naturally. It was only natural, since they contained more mana, and they were a great help when following her father's commands.
"And in a place like this—where there are many spirits but no spiritist—you could call it a kingless swarm. Those aiming to claim that position could be likened to royal candidates."
"That's a good comparison. In a hive without a queen, they raise one from the larvae. What the people here are trying to do—control spirits—that's exactly it. They're trying to become a spiritist… a queen bee."
"But you can't become a royal candidate with just the spirits' goodwill, can you?" Fritz asked.
"Unless you bring in another queen, there's no real solution. Still, unlike a beehive, spirits don't disappear just because there's no spiritist. So the only option is to make use of the remaining spirits' goodwill for convenience."
The three continued talking as they walked—then suddenly stopped.
"Lift it just like that!"
Curious, they turned to look. A bucket suddenly rose from the well. It was full of water—and not attached to any pulley.
"Got it!" the man clapped his hands.
At that moment, the bucket flipped over, pouring water all over his head.
A spirit larger than a palm, hidden behind the bucket, burst into laughter as it watched the drenched man. It seemed he had asked the spirit to draw water and gotten pranked instead.
"That's the problem—it's not easy."
Ella let out a sigh.
"It's in their nature. There's no helping it. Aside from a spiritist, it's best to assume no one can truly control spirits."
Ulrich was right. That was simply how spirits were.
They were easily swayed by impulse and emotion. Without something forcing them to act, they would follow instructions one moment and change their minds the next.
If they caught a sweet scent, heard a cheerful sound, or felt playful, they would forget what they had been doing and give in to their impulses.
"So it's not impossible?"
"It is possible. Just extremely rare. Those called spiritists today are such people. Whether through bonds or contracts, they each have their own way of suppressing the spirits' impulses."
When they left the village, they saw several villagers trying to coax spirits.
A recent storm had damaged the nearby fields, and they were asking the spirits to help clean things up.
But it didn't seem to be going well. As far as Ella remembered, they had been there since early morning—yet the place looked even messier than before.
"What's going on?" Ella asked as she approached.
She didn't really need an answer. It was obvious—some whim had struck the spirits, and they had stopped working. The villagers complained as expected when they saw her.
"Ella, can't you do something about this?" one of them said, pointing at the scattered debris. "We just finished cleaning it, and they made a mess of it again."
"Again?"
The villagers glared at the spirits floating in the air, but the spirits ignored them, chattering among themselves.
Ella slipped her hand into the small pouch at her waist. Inside was an even smaller bottle. As soon as she took it out, the spirits turned their heads sharply and began sniffing the air.
Inside the bottle were fruits soaked in honey—something spirits, with their weakness for sweets, couldn't resist. She had brought it along knowing this would happen.
"What is it? What is it?" the spirits cried as they flocked over noisily.
Gently pushing them back as they tried to cling to the bottle, Ella said,
"You want this, don't you?"
"We do!" the spirits shouted in unison.
"Then what should you be doing?"
"Cleaning!" "Tidying!" various answers came back. Smiling, Ella opened the bottle and handed out pieces of the candied fruit one by one.
Since spirits were so small, a single bottle was enough to feed them all. With honey smeared all over their faces, they scattered and began cleaning the field.
But the effect didn't last long.
As she had said, spirits were pure impulse. Before long, their movements slowed—and soon they stopped working again and started playing.
'Of course you would.'
Ella shook her head as she watched. One of the spirits flopped onto her head as well.
"People who become spiritists… I mean, those who control spirits through bonds—I don't understand how they do it."
Ella spoke while looking at Ulrich. She wasn't really expecting an answer—it was more like muttering to herself. But Ulrich smiled faintly, so subtly it was easy to miss.
"They each have their own methods. Secrets they don't easily share with others. And even if you knew them, most couldn't replicate them."
As he said that, Ulrich reached out toward a spirit hovering in front of him. The spirit lightly perched on his index finger, and he whispered something.
His words were drowned out by the chatter of the surrounding spirits. But the one on his finger seemed to hear clearly—it nodded once or twice, then flew off.
"What did you say?"
"I told it the surroundings looked a bit messy."
"…What?"
Ella blinked in disbelief. Would words like that mean anything to creatures even more childlike than children?
Surprisingly, they did.
The spirit that heard Ulrich whispered something to another, and those two whispered to two more, and so on—the number spreading.
Soon, spirits all around the field began clearing the scattered debris.
Ella stared at the scene, her mouth slightly open.
"…Is that the method?"
"In this case, it's something more fundamental than a method."
"Fundamental…?"
She looked at him, expecting an explanation—but he didn't answer.
'Father used to do this too whenever he avoided a question.'
Pouting slightly, Ella watched the spirits. They weren't particularly fast, but they were steadily cleaning the field without slacking off.
'Maybe it has something to do with that "watcher" thing.'
He had nothing in his hands, no sweets, and he was a complete stranger—so why were they obeying him?
"Impressive skill."
Ella broke from her thoughts and turned her head.
"You're not a spiritist, are you?"
The question, spoken with a hint of humor, came from a man standing behind them, smiling with his eyes. His most striking feature was his red beard.
Ella forced herself not to frown and whispered to Ulrich.
His name was Anders—the most skilled spiritist in the village, even surpassing her brother.
Ulrich met Anders' smile with a calm, composed expression.
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