Antoine.
It was one of the few cities nestled in the Western Ferry of the Southern Continent. Travelers called it the oasis of the Western Ferry desert, the only true sanctuary for wayfarers.
Of course, it was far more famous by another name.
The City of Stars.
While most of the Southern Continent bowed to the Order of the Sun or the Order of the Cross, Antoine was a rare haven where the followers of the Goddess of Stars resided. True to their devotion to a goddess who cherished forgiveness and harmony, the residents were renowned for their benevolence. The Primeval Observatory, built by the priests of the Star Order, remained the city’s greatest landmark.
Once, beautiful priestesses with hair as pitch-black as the night sky danced and sang at the Primeval Observatory. It was said that the Song of Stars , performed beneath the shimmering Milky Way, was a sight so ethereal that no one who witnessed it could ever forget it.
“Until not long ago, the priestesses sang there. Countless girls watched them and dreamed of shining just as brightly, and countless men harbored secret loves for them. The Primeval Observatory and the priestesses were the very symbols of this city. I, too, spent my youth looking at that observatory and the stars, nurturing my own dreams.”
An old woman spoke.
The moment I entered Antoine, she had approached me, asking if I was a traveler, and kindly began to guide me through the streets. She smiled wistfully as she looked toward the Primeval Observatory, tears welling in her wrinkled eyes.
“But we will never see that sight again. No one can dream while looking at the stars anymore, and no one can smile at them. Stars and dreams now exist only in the memories of the elderly. The young and the weak no longer look at the sky to wonder; they look at the stars and feel only fear.”
The Primeval Observatory.
The structure, built atop high-piled sands, was now defiled with filth. Contrary to the old woman’s nostalgic description, the observatory had been horribly desecrated. From the top of the tower, the corpses of numerous women swayed, hanging by their necks. Their bodies, rotted black, were still clad in priestess robes adorned with pentagrams. Over those sacred symbols, crude crosses had been painted in red blood. Those hanging from the observatory were the priestesses of the stars.
And the beautiful black hair that had been the envy of so many was gone. Every one of the dead priestesses had been shorn bald. It didn’t look like their hair had been cut with shears; it looked as though it had been violently torn out by the roots. Their hideously exposed scalps were slick with rot. Amidst the incessant cawing of crows, a red cross glowed ominously atop the summit of the Primeval Observatory.
“Traveler, quench your thirst, catch your breath, and then leave this city in haste. The oasis has dried up, the sanctuary has been trampled, and the City of Stars has faded because of those who follow a twisted faith. There is no reason for you to remain in this cursed place.”
The old woman gave me a pitying smile.
She patted my shoulder once, then pulled a small pouch from her robes and handed it to me. It was a waterskin. The water inside was slightly lukewarm.
“……Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Why are you being so kind to me?”
“The City of Stars survived in this barren desert thanks to travelers. The weak lived on the water and food travelers brought; they endured sandstorms with the help of outsiders; and every child here grew up dreaming while listening to the stories travelers told.”
“…….”
“Antoine shows kindness to every guest. That is the will of the stars.”
The old woman slowly turned around.
“Come. I will show you a decent inn and shops where you can buy what you need.”
“Ah, yes.”
“We must move quickly. Before those carrying the cross return.”
Those carrying the cross.
It wasn’t hard to guess who she meant.
‘The Order of the Cross.’
Those bastards really did have their hands in everything.
“Some people might seem sensitive or cold. But do not think poorly of them. They are good people at heart; they have simply endured too much sorrow.”
“I understand.”
“Originally, they were people who welcomed every traveler with open arms. Now they have grown to fear outsiders, but…….”
Just as the old woman said, the people of Antoine cast wary glances at me. Some would be chatting only to fall dead silent the moment I appeared. However, this was nowhere near my definition of ‘sensitive.’
‘This is actually quite friendly.’
They would need to experience the ‘sensitivity’ of the Iron Kingdom to truly understand the difference.
In the Iron Kingdom of Chervil, if you walk alone, “kind” robbers appear out of concern for your loneliness and take everything you own. They might even take your life, lest the weight of living be too heavy for you. Truly “kind” souls. If you look like an easy mark, they gift you with mockery and violence. The guards? The citizens there have been tempered by violence since childhood, so they can exercise perfect brutality while evading the law. Some guards even place bets on who will win the fight.
“E-Excuse me. Sir.”
Just as I was lost in thought, someone suddenly grabbed my ankle. I turned my head, but no one was at eye level. It was only when I looked down that I saw her. A middle-aged woman stood there. Her hair was a matted mess, her face was caked in filth, and her eyes were hollow and dead. Her clothes were little more than rags. She looked like a beggar from the deepest slums.
“I have a… a favor—”
“Hey, get away from him!”
The woman began to speak with trembling hands, but before she could finish, the old woman pulled her away. The woman was pushed back helplessly by the frail old woman’s gesture.
“……Were you startled? Pay her no mind.”
“Ah, it’s fine. But who is she……?”
“……There is no need to take an interest. She is a pitiful child.”
No need to take an interest.
The old woman’s face looked profoundly sorrowful as she spoke. The expressions of the other passersby were similar—sympathetic glances cast at the middle-aged woman crawling on the ground. The woman didn’t seem to notice, merely staring blankly at the dirt.
‘A pitiful person, not worth the interest.’
The old woman continued her kind explanations, pointing out the inn and the various shops. But her words didn’t register. I was still staring at the middle-aged woman who sat in the dust, stammering to herself.
No need to take an interest.
Normally, that would be true. Everyone in the world has their own tragedy, and no matter what hers was, there was no reason for me, a mere traveler, to care.
However.
‘Found it.’
It was a different story if it concerned my sword.
‘The needle has stopped on that woman and won’t budge.’
The Golden Star. The brilliant needle resembling a compass engraved on my wrist. That needle was emitting a faint light, pointing directly at the middle-aged woman crawling on the ground. There was no mistake.
‘……But why is the needle that points to a sword pointing at a person?’
What I had seen after being placed on the scales of the Golden Star was definitely a blade. Even when the location of the sword was first imprinted in my mind, the Golden Star pointed to a weapon, not a human. So why was the needle pointing so clearly at her?
The reason was unknown. I suppose I would have to find out.
As I watched her intently, the woman grabbed the ankle of another passerby and murmured the same thing she had said to me. With my strength restricted and my senses dulled, I had to step closer to hear her. The words I finally caught were cryptic.
“I have a favor to ask. Please… draw me a sheep.”
What on earth did that mean?
*
The old woman left after guiding me through the city. Antoine was smaller than I expected. Then again, it would be stranger for a city built in the heart of a desert to be vast. It was closer to a large village than a city; in terms of size, it was even smaller than the Caravan estate. Regardless, its small scale offered certain advantages.
“A middle-aged woman crawling on the ground……? Ah, you mean Priestess Frey.”
The smaller the community, the more the residents knew about each other’s business. In a place like this, people knew how many calves the neighbor’s cow had birthed and which houses were having domestic spats. The story of the ‘middle-aged woman’ clearly wasn’t ordinary. Even the people passing on the street knew of her. I chose a drunkard in a local tavern as my source. Once I showed him some kindness and bought him a few rounds, the story came pouring out.
“A priestess? Was she originally a priestess?”
“Yes, she was. She’s broken now, but in her prime, she was the most beautiful among the priestesses of the stars. She was the Star of Antoine, our brightest light! Not just the men, but all the women loved Priestess Frey. She was so beautiful it didn’t even spark jealousy.”
“Then, why did she……?”
“Hmm, I wonder if I should tell you this.”
The man stroked his chin, hesitating.
Soon, another companion at the table spoke up.
“Just tell him! How many beers has this young man bought us already?”
“No matter how hard times are, we can’t deny a traveler a story he’s curious about. Especially one as generous as him.”
“This young man doesn’t look dangerous, either. It must have been a nightmare crossing the desert with a body like that; if we can’t even satisfy a bit of youthful curiosity, we aren’t people of Antoine.”
“…….”
It was true that crossing the desert had been a struggle, so I didn’t refute them.
“Something strange happened a long time ago,” the man began.
“Something strange?”
“Priestess Frey was a stunning woman, so she received countless proposals, but she rejected them all, saying she belonged to God. Everyone withdrew with heavy hearts, but there was one person who never gave up. Uniquely, compared to the other men, he was very young—a boy far too young to be confessing his love to Priestess Frey.”
“A boy……?”
“Yes, that boy. He never revealed his name, but he had a nickname. A very peculiar one. What was it again? Do you remember?”
The men at the table clutched their heads, searching their memories.
Finally, someone spoke up as if the memory had just clicked into place.
“The Little Prince.”
*
The sun set, and the moon rose bright.
The dim night sky was embroidered with stars as beautiful as a flowing river. The middle-aged woman, Frey, counted the twinkling stars one by one with a faint, vacant smile. Then, she found one star that sparkled exceptionally bright. Frey stopped counting and stared at it as if her gaze could pierce the heavens. She didn’t want to miss its light for even a single moment.
As Frey gazed at the star, a girl wearing oversized priestess robes came running over.
“Priestess! Priestess Frey! What are you doing here?”
“Ah…….”
“Let’s go. Why do you sit here every single day? It’s cold and lonely being by yourself.”
“It’s the same kind of lonely even among people,” Frey whispered.
She continued to gaze at the star, speaking words the girl couldn’t understand.
“The stars are beautiful.”
“Priestess!”
“Because of a single flower that cannot be seen.”
As the girl tried to pull her away, Frey looked at the stars and then turned her head, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile. Beside her sat a small, precious boy, invisible to all but her. He was crouching down, looking at Frey with an innocent face, smiling back.
『Go back for today, my flower.』
Frey still didn’t know the boy’s name. What she knew was not his name, but the nickname the world had given him.
『See you again tomorrow.』
So Frey still called the boy by that title.
『Don’t worry about me being left alone. Even waiting is a form of happiness.』
The Little Prince.
『If you come at four in the afternoon, I’ll begin to be happy by three.』
