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Sword Art Online - Volume 20 - Chapter 2




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“Oh, geez…That was a really…bad…reaction……” 
Ronie, Tiese, and Asuna stifled chuckles as they watched Kirito exhale, his head in his hands. 
The long meeting was over at last, and baby Berche had been returned to his mother, Fanatio. The two girls headed for the cafeteria on the tenth floor, but Asuna stopped them before they could rush down the stairs. They couldn’t turn down her invitation to share lunch, of course, so they accepted the request and followed her to the Morning Star Lookout on the ninety-fifth floor of Central Cathedral. 
The lookout floor was open to the outside air, supported only by pillars. The majority of the floor held a beautiful garden with plants and flowers and a babbling brook. In practical terms, it was the top floor of the cathedral. Asuna had generated an indestructible door that blocked the stairs up to the ninety-sixth floor. Even the Integrity Knights and Kirito, the swordsman delegate, couldn’t pass through it. 
A white table was arranged in a corner of the garden, where the three girls sat. A few minutes later, Kirito showed up and groaned as soon as he sat down. The “reaction” he complained about, of course, was the way he had shouted when he heard Selka’s name. 
Ronie and Tiese shouted together when they’d heard Frenica’s name listed, but she had shared a room with them in the primary trainee dorm at the academy, so that was only to be expected. 
In Kirito’s case, the situation was a bit more…no, a lot more complicated. 
Kirito and Eugeo had left on their journey to Centoria from the northern village of Rulid, surpassing many trials on the way to Swordcraft Academy, where they then told their pages, Ronie and Tiese, about them. But those stories had not been revealed to the entire cathedral. 
That was because Kirito’s reason for leaving Rulid was to take his friend, the now-legendary Golden Knight, Alice Synthesis Thirty, back from the Axiom Church. 
Given that several of the knights still believed in Administrator’s tall tale that the Integrity Knights were agents of the gods summoned from the heavens, any information about the birthplaces of Integrity Knights still had to be tightly controlled. On top of that, it was none other than the senior member of the Unification Council, Deusolbert Synthesis Seven, who had escorted young Alice from Rulid after her violation of the Taboo Index—and he did not have any memory of the event. Deusolbert seemed to be vaguely aware of the truth behind the Synthesis Ritual, but out of consideration for the younger knights, he did not speak about it. 
At the morning meeting, Kirito weakly explained his surprise about Selka Zuberg’s name by claiming that it “sounded like someone I once knew,” and Fanatio and the others did not seem convinced. 
Now Kirito sat at the lunch table, bemoaning his reaction. Asuna collected herself and comforted him. “Well, what’s done is done, Kirito. Everyone was going to find out that you knew each other when Selka came here.” 
“Yeah, I know…but I was hoping I could have prepared before everyone got suspicious about it…” 
“What could you have prepared? A cover story to share with Selka? I don’t think that’s the best idea, either…” 
“I suppose you’re right,” Kirito agreed without lifting his face. 
Tiese hesitated a bit before saying “Um…Kirito?” 
“Hmm? What is it, Tiese?” 
The swordsman delegate straightened up at last to look at her. The red-haired young woman still looked unsure of herself, and what she said next shocked even her friend Ronie. 
“I think it would be best if you just explained the truth…Just tell all the Integrity Knights that they were born here in the mortal realm, just like everyone else.” 
“H-hey, Tiese—,” Ronie said, trying to shush her friend. The Synthesis Ritual was the biggest secret this place had left, and it wasn’t right for mere apprentice knights to spill it. 
But Kirito simply waved her off, smiling, and turned to Tiese. “Yes, I’m largely in agreement with you. The whole idea about being summoned from the celestial realm is starting to fall apart. I think that among the elder knights, Fanatio and Deusolbert and probably Sheyta have a significant grasp of the truth, so I think that someday, preferably soon, we should explain the truth to all of them. But…it’s just…” 
He paused, looking at them reluctantly. “I’m sorry…I don’t want to remind you of painful memories…but do you recall the end of Raios Antinous?” 
Both Ronie and Tiese stiffened at that name. 
How could they ever forget? Raios Antinous was the first-seat Elite Disciple when the girls were pages to Kirito and Eugeo. He’d horribly mistreated Frenica, his own page, and when Ronie and Tiese went to accuse him of abuse, he used the system of “judicial authority” afforded to high nobles to shield himself—and attempted to defile them all. 
Kirito and Eugeo burst into the bedroom just in time to rescue the girls, and when Kirito sliced off both of Raios’s arms, his end was shocking in a way that chilled her to think about, even now. 
He did not perish from loss of blood. Before it came to that, he unleashed an unearthly scream no human should ever make and fell to the floor completely lifeless, as though his very soul had been obliterated. In the war after that, Ronie and Tiese saw many humans and demi-humans lose their lives, but none of them ever died quite like that. 
The girls shivered despite themselves. Kirito and Asuna leaned over from the other side of the table and took their hands, joining them all at the center. The hands of these people from the real world felt warmer than any hands they’d ever felt, and they kept the chill afflicting Ronie at bay. 
She nodded, unable to bring herself to say thanks. The two gave them smiles that were very similar in appearance, nodded back, and returned to their seats. Once she’d had a moment to breathe, Ronie asked, “What do Disciple Antinous’s death and the Synthesis Ritual have in common…?” 
Kirito immediately shook his head. “Not in common, not directly. But…when the people of the Underworld undergo extreme mental stress, there’s a possibility that anyone could end up the way Raios did.” 
“What…?” they gasped, eyes wide. 
He shook his head again, trying to set them at ease. “No, don’t be afraid. You’re all right. It only happens to those who are bound by extremely rigid conceptual views.” 
“Rigid…conceptual views?” 
“That’s right. At that moment, Raios’s life and the Taboo Index were on opposite sides of a scale. He was like a being of pure ego; he prioritized nothing over his own life. But at the same time, the Taboo Index is an absolute law that cannot be violated under any circumstances. So should he violate the Taboo Index to preserve his own life or uphold the Taboo Index and die…? Raios was unable to choose one over the other, and it destroyed his mind.” 
When he was done speaking, Asuna looked both shaken and indignant, despite the fact that he’d surely shared that story with her, too. Kirito brushed her hands atop the table and continued, “Plus, from what Fanatio told us, in the battle to defend the Eastern Gate, the old chieftain of the giants lost control of himself and screamed in a strange fashion, the way Raios did. See, the giants maintain their sense of self by their unshakable belief that they are the strongest of all the races…So I think he went out of control when that fixed concept in his mind was uprooted, which shattered his sense of self. The problem is, I suspect that a few of the Integrity Knights consider their belief that they were summoned from the heavens to be just as important to their being.” 
Ronie had an up-close view of the Integrity Knights’ strength and pride, and Kirito’s concern was certainly enough for her to be worried as well. Naturally, learning that everything surrounding the Synthesis Ritual was a lie told to them by Administrator would be the most shocking thing they could hear. 
But the knights, with their unshakable wills and refusal to leave any problems for others to solve, should be able to accept such a challenge. They wouldn’t lose their minds in the way that Raios Antinous did. 
Or was that just her own hope? Now that she traded words and took lessons in swordfighting and sacred arts from the Integrity Knights every day as an apprentice, was Ronie’s admiration making her wish they could be the perfect, flawless beings she imagined them to be? Were her own personal feelings causing her to simply believe that about them…? 
As Ronie lowered her head, deep in thought, Asuna said, “Um, Kirito. Something strikes me as strange. The Taboo Index is an absolute set of laws for the people of the human realm, right? So absolute that even trying to break those rules causes their minds to break down.” 
“Right…that’s true. Normally the Seal of the Right Eye will activate to snuff out rebellious thoughts before you ever reach the point of a mental breakdown…but the seal didn’t activate for Raios because he wasn’t violating any taboo out of firm principle. He just wound up stuck in a contradictory mental loop where he had to protect both the Taboo Index and his own life—and couldn’t choose just one.” 
“What does the word loop mean?” asked Tiese. Kirito gaped a little, looking guilty, and hastily explained himself. 
“Sorry, I’m trying to be careful, but sometimes I just can’t stop myself from using an Eng…I mean, a word in the sacred tongue. What I mean is a kind of circle of thoughts, something that repeats endlessly. Does that make sense?” 
He looked toward Asuna for guidance, and she favored him with a smile. “I think that’s a good explanation. It’s also a verb for folding things into a circle, among other things.” 
“I see. Thank you!” said Tiese, and from the little pouch of her uniform—in the sacred tongue, they called it a pocket—she pulled out a small booklet of white hemp paper tied with string and a bronze pen. She flipped through the sheets of paper, already cramped with writing, until she found some blank space and wrote down the definition of the word loop. 
“Oh…Tiese, what’s that?” 
“Heh-heh, I got some papers from the management agency. If I write them down here, I won’t forget all the sacred words before I can make use of them.” 
“Wh-when did you do all this…?” Ronie wondered, alarmed that her homework-hating friend was undertaking such a surprising bit of enterprising effort. She elbowed her friend in the side and whispered, “Show me how you put it together later.” 
“Hee-hee. Gosh, it sure would be nice to have some honey pies from the Jumping Deer…” 
“Fine, fine. Sheesh…” 
Kirito leaned back in his council chair, smiling to himself at the bickering, and said, “We’ll need to arrange for greater production of snow-white hemp at once. I’m hoping for three…no, five times as much as what we currently make.” 
“Even ten times wouldn’t be enough,” interjected Asuna. “Ideally, you’d want enough supplies for every child in the human…no, the entire Underworld to have their own notebook and pen.” 
“That would be wonderful…,” said Tiese, staring at her little sheaf of papers, apparently awakened to the joys of study. “Sheepskin parchment is very expensive, so lower noble children—like Ronie and me—had to write on it with water-soluble leafy lotus ink so we could wash and reuse it. Ordinary paper made from pounding white-thread grass is cheap, but its life runs out in just a week, when it crumbles away…If we could use as much of this white hemp paper as we want, I think every child would learn to love studying.” 
“You’re right. And from there, we could make a bunch of textbooks,” Asuna suggested. 
That caught Ronie’s attention. Kirito had briefly flown all over the human realm looking for materials that combined the durability of sheepskin and the practicality of normal paper. The snow-white hemp he eventually found grew only in the rocky mountains in the far reaches of the northern empire. The pure-white plant’s leaves and stem were chopped into fine pieces and boiled in a big pot until they formed a thick sludge that was spread out on a flat board, then dried instantly by heat and wind elements before the material’s life could run out. That changed it from low-durability “food” to high-durability “textile.” Lastly, a huge rolling pin was used on the sheet over and over until it became white hemp paper. 
One sheep could only provide sixty square cens of sheepskin paper, so this method was much cheaper, and the durability was nearly as high, but it was still a more involved process than simply smashing white-thread grass with wooden mallets, and snow-white hemp was impossible to acquire around the capital. At the moment, they’d tilled snow-white hemp fields near where it grew naturally and built four processing facilities in Centoria so they could sell the paper to the citizens of the capital, but it was still more expensive than ordinary paper. Even an amateur like Ronie could tell how difficult it would be to get the materials common enough that children in the dark lands could buy them cheaply. 
But mass production of durable paper wasn’t Kirito and Asuna’s only goal. They wanted to produce textbooks that contained sacred vocabulary words, math equations, and arts commands. 
“If there could be one textbook for every child, then they could study new things whenever they wanted. But…,” Ronie said. 
Tiese finished her thought. “Even a textbook of elementary sacred arts takes an experienced scribe an entire month to copy. And that’s very expensive, of course…My father bought a textbook he couldn’t really afford, because sacred arts are a necessary subject in the requirements to enter the academy. He had to buy one of the cheaper, quicker copies with smudged writing, and it was very frustrating for him. It’s still one of my prized possessions, though.” 
Ronie had a similar experience, in fact. A textbook written carefully and cleanly in the same Axiom script used by the finest book in all of the human world, the Taboo Index, cost at least ten thousand shia per copy. That put it completely out of reach of the common people—and even the lower-ranked nobles. The quick copies put out by younger scribes in more informal shorthand were much cheaper, but they were still hefty purchases. 
“You’ve got to take good care of it, then,” said Kirito with a grin. “And one day—” He suddenly paused and sighed. “Well, mass production of white hemp paper for textbooks might be difficult, but we’ll work on it. We’ve got plenty of time…” 
“Yes…that’s right,” Asuna agreed. She put on a mischievous grin. “You know, Kirito, if there was a test for sacred arts on top of swordsmanship, I’m surprised you passed and got into the academy.” 
“Uh, just so you know, I was within the top-twelve students…I assume. Of course, if I didn’t have Eugeo there to help me with the sacred arts stuff, I would’ve had trouble.” 
That made Tiese giggle. But Ronie could sense there was more than just innocent delight in her reaction. All she could do was smile for her friend, however. 
Asuna wore a sympathetic smile of her own. She looked out at the blue sky peeking through the pillars and suddenly became alarmed. “Oh no, you both must be hungry. Let’s eat lunch now. Can you help me bring it out?” 
Ronie and Tiese agreed and rose from their seats together, with Kirito not a moment behind them. When she was his page, Ronie always said, “I’ll do it,” but even to this day, Kirito refused to sit and wait. He really never changes, she thought, walking behind Asuna. 
Meanwhile, Tiese had removed her pad and pen again. “Excuse me, Lady Asuna, you mentioned the word notebook earlier. I assume that refers to this sheaf of papers?” 
Ronie couldn’t help but clench her fists. 
The ninety-fourth floor of the cathedral, one below the Morning Star Lookout, featured a fairly large cooking area, if not nearly as grand as the Great Kitchen on the tenth floor. The moment Asuna pushed open the double doors, the fragrant smells of honey and melting cheese wafted forth, causing Ronie’s stomach to clench with hunger. 
The kitchen’s floor and ceiling were white marble, but three walls were covered with tall shelves stuffed with ingredients and containers of every possible variety, creating a very busy appearance. The fourth wall featured shelves of cooking tools and a huge stove. There was a large wooden work counter in the middle of the spacious room. 
As the four of them entered the kitchen, a willowy figure on the other side of the counter looked up. A woman with a youthful face, she wore a conical hat atop her short hair and a spotless white apron. 
The woman was sitting in a chair and polishing a large kitchen knife. When she saw them, she stood up smoothly, gave a little bow to Asuna, and said, “My lady, I have the dish already baked and waiting in the oven. The salad and bread are in the basket there.” 
“Thank you, Hana. I’m sorry we took so long,” Asuna replied. She strode over to the large heat-element oven placed against the back wall of the kitchen. It had a sealable box built of stone and brick placed over a fire that heated up the entire enclosure. There was an Underworldian word for oven, but because it was a homophone with the word for the sunlight from Solus, it was often called oven in the common sacred tongue to differentiate the two. Salad and bread also fit into this category, so Tiese didn’t need to bother with getting out her vocabulary list. 


 

Asuna put on some thick leather gloves before opening the oven door so she could pull out the large covered container inside. The smell of cheese wafted from the pot. 
The baked dish consisted of a thin, kneaded crust spread into a flat pan and filled with all sorts of ingredients, but who ever heard of baking something by placing the dish into the oven itself? An oven was supposed to be for baking bread. As Ronie watched with excitement, Asuna moved the elliptical container to the countertop and carefully opened the lid. 
“Wow…Wh-what is this…?” Tiese asked in suspicious awe. Ronie was equally confused. 
What emerged from the container was slightly singed around the edges, white and thin, almost like… 
“Hee-hee…It’s baked in paper,” Asuna proclaimed proudly, much to the shock of the two other girls. 
“P-paper? Like…real paper? White hemp paper…?” 
It seemed too far-fetched to be true, but the subdelegate just smiled and nodded. “I got some hemp paper from the cathedral’s processing center that had gotten burned in the drying stage, just so I could test this dish out.” 

“B-but wouldn’t baking it in the oven cause the paper to burn up in moments?” 
“It happened when I used ordinary paper, yes. I haven’t tried sheepskin paper, but I couldn’t use something that valuable for cooking anyway. But the hemp paper has just the right sturdiness, and it did exactly the job I wanted it to do.” 
Asuna prodded the folded shell of paper with a finger. It made a dry crackling sound but did not fall apart. Despite being exposed to the withering heat of the heat-element oven, the paper’s life had been somehow preserved. 
As she removed her leather gloves, Asuna said, “The methods of cooking in the Underworld are simple but follow some very strict principles. Whether you’re baking, grilling, or boiling, if you don’t heat it up enough for a certain amount of time, the ingredients don’t become ‘food.’ If the heat isn’t high enough, the status will reflect it—it’ll be in a half-cooked or a half-boiled state, and eating it might make your stomach hurt. If you heat it up too much, it goes into a burned state that makes it hard and bitter.” 
“R-right…” 
That was the very first thing any girl learned when her mother first started teaching her to cook: A little bit burned is better than not cooked enough, and everything needs to receive the proper amount of heat. The lessons brought the familiar warmth of nostalgia to Ronie’s heart. 
“The problem is,” Asuna continued, “the best flavor a dish can have is the instant it goes from half-cooked to freshly made. The more you heat it after that, the more the heat dries out the moisture and hardens the food—and the less you can taste the ingredients in a boiled dish. When you’re stewing something, you can keep adding ingredients and heating it at a low temperature to produce a rich, saturated soup, but that takes too long.” 
“R-right…” Ronie nodded. She could feel the strange taste of that mysterious Obsidia soup coming back to her tongue, so she quickly spoke up to distract herself from the sensation. “B-but what does that have to do with wrapping it in paper?” 
“Well, first I tried to discern the exact moment that the filling was freshly cooked, but Hana here put a stop to that…” 
Asuna looked over at the woman in the white hat, who barely batted an eye. 
“That is the first and last trap that those whose calling is to be a cook tend to fall into,” the woman agreed. “Even the most experienced cook cannot perfectly predict the moment of completion every single time. Long in the past, a cook who was said to be a once-in-a-century master of this insight was invited to the Imperial Palace to cook for the emperor of Norlangarth. The appetizer and soup were absolutely picturesque, but the main dish of great red-horned cattle steak was just an instant away from being finished when he pulled it out. As a result, the emperor became sick from eating it, and through the process of judicial authority, the cook’s arms were lopped clean off.” 
Ronie and Tiese were stunned into silence. Asuna just shook her head and said, “And that’s why I gave up on anticipating the perfect moment and made sure to cook it all the way through. Instead, I asked Hana if there was a way to cook it thoroughly over time that doesn’t lose the moisture, and she told me that baking something in the oven inside a covered dish makes it taste different.” 
“Ohhhh…I’ve learned a lot about cooking, but I never even considered such an idea. I can see why she’s the personal chef to the pontifex,” Tiese marveled. 
The woman named Hana just shrugged. “That was all in the past. Only Central Cathedral has a container of high enough priority that it can be heated up in the oven without cracking. And the cooking process is still imperfect…Because the moisture can’t escape, it builds up inside the container, half boiling the contents, and their flavor ends up weaker.” 
“So my first idea was to try the traditional baked-in method and wrap the ingredients inside a flour crust before putting it into the container. But that just meant that the flavor and moisture were escaping into the crust…If you’re eating the food with the crust, that’s all right, but it still means the filling itself is less tasty. So I was trying to think of things that could wrap the insides, wouldn’t absorb water, and still resist the heat, and I ended up testing this paper.” 
“Oh…so that’s why it’s wrapped in paper…,” Ronie murmured, staring into the container. 
“Um, can we go ahead and open it up now?” whined the swordsman delegate, who’d been waiting patiently this whole time. He’d been trying to resist his hunger throughout the explanation, but that was as far as he could get. 
Asuna chuckled and reached out to pinch the end of the lightly charred paper. “Today was actually our very first test with it. If the insides aren’t right, we’ll only be having a lunch of salad and bread. Apologies in advance.” 
“Wh-what?” stammered both Kirito and Tiese. Ronie was in the same boat, of course. She prayed to Terraria, the goddess of all blessings of the earth, including food, and watched Asuna perform the last step. 
She peeled the sheets of paper away one at a time, until the last of them spread apart left and right, unleashing an indescribably rich scent that made Ronie swoon. 
The main ingredient was sliced pale fish, with mushrooms, vegetables, and herbs aplenty, plus a solid layer of cheese melted on top. It was clear at a glance that it had been cooked enough, but unlike when baked in a pot, it wasn’t burned and hadn’t shrunk at all. It seemed like all the moisture had stayed inside. 
“That looks good,” said Hana. Asuna agreed. 
“Let’s divide it into servings while it’s still hot. Five plates, please, Kirito.” 
Despite repeated attempts to decline, Hana eventually gave in to Asuna’s insistence and took the fifth serving of paper-baked fish as the group carried their plates and foodstuffs back to the table on the ninety-fifth floor. 
Perhaps drawing on his experience as a page, Kirito deftly helped set the table, and within just a few minutes, everything was ready. They toasted with warm siral water and picked up their silverware. 
Each portion of fish was steaming heartily, rich and tempting on its plate, but Ronie took a cautious sniff first, just in case. Among the scent of vegetables, mushrooms, and melted cheese, there wasn’t even the slightest whiff of charred paper. 
The slices of fish were juicy and firm, yet a simple press of the knife easily split them apart. The first thing she noticed upon lifting it to her mouth was the soft texture. It was very moist—and hard to believe it was actually cooked all the way. 
“Wow…it’s completely different from the usual cooking over an open flame! This is incredibly good!” raved Tiese, prompting Ronie to nod vigorously in agreement. Asuna tasted hers very carefully, bobbing her head, but not to the same level of vehemence. 
“Yes, it’s kept all the moisture, like I was hoping…but it just doesn’t have that fragrance of a good open grilling…It feels like there might still be the slightest bit of rawness to it.” 
“What if we remove the lid and the paper right near the end and sear it with heat elements?” Hana suggested. 
Asuna’s face lit up. “That sounds good. Just a little crispness on the surface should really make the fragrance sing. Let’s try removing it from the heat twenty seconds earlier next time so we can give that an attempt.” 
While the two cooks discussed ideas, Kirito silently—rapturously—moved his fork from plate to mouth. Ronie was afraid he was going to finish his entire meal without a word, so she turned to her right to face him and whispered, “Um, what about the taste…?” 
“…Mmuh?” mumbled the swordsman delegate, his cheeks stuffed with fish, vegetables, and mushrooms. He chewed a few times, then exclaimed, “If’f good!” 
That earned him an eye roll from Asuna. “We weren’t looking for brilliant insights from a culinary critic…but you could stand to give me something more to work with.” 
“Uh…th-then…it’s so good, I could even eat the paper it’s wrapped in!” 
The three who knew him all too well sighed heavily, and Hana politely maintained an utterly straight face, but Ronie could see her shoulders briefly twitch. 
In thirty minutes, their delightful lunch was over, and since Hana firmly insisted this time, they allowed her to clean up before going back to her kitchen. The four of them left on the ninety-fifth floor sat in very contented silence for a while. 
It was hard to even count the number of revolutionary changes, big and small, that the real-worlders Kirito and Asuna had brought to the Underworld. The biggest of all was undoubtedly the reformation of the nobility system, but to Ronie, the most meaningful were practical, everyday ideas like the development of hemp paper and its applications, such as this one for baking. 
They were currently working on building clinics in smaller towns and villages, not just the larger cities where they could only be found today. People who got hurt or sick in rural villages had to go to the lone holy brother or sister at the local church. If multiple people were hurt at once, it wasn’t uncommon for the priests and priestesses not to be able to help them all in time. Using high-level light-element arts for healing was just as hard as working with dark elements, so an inexperienced user might not be able to help someone with a life-threatening condition. 
If they could build staffed clinics in every town and village, there would be a vast decline in the number of people dying from accidents and contagious diseases. Apparently, they wanted to expand not just high-level healing arts but common medical care with herbs, bandages, and salves as well. 
Ronie thought it was wonderful that their plans were helping the world move in a better direction. But at the same time, she found herself plagued by vague worries. 
In the three hundred years of Administrator’s rule, beginning at the formation of the four empires that split the land, there had been virtually no change in the realm. This was because the pontifex herself sought a kind of permanent stasis for it, and the result was that the cruelty of the high nobles, and the unequal quality of life between urban and rural areas, was left unsolved. The main value to the system was just that things weren’t getting worse than that, either. 
But Kirito and Asuna were tireless in their attempts to improve the quality of life for the whole of the Underworld. Even the single act of releasing the civilians being tormented by the high nobles on their private lands had been a clear change for the better. 
Yet it felt as though the more the world changed, the more people’s hopes for the Unification Council—and especially Kirito and Asuna—grew without boundaries. To Ronie, the apprentice knight, they seemed to have a near-godly source of power, but they weren’t all-knowing, all-capable beings. Kirito still regretted and mourned his inability to save Eugeo, and that was why Ronie worried about this situation. If some unavoidable danger that surpassed Kirito’s and Asuna’s strength and wisdom came about—something even more calamitous than the Otherworld War—the thought of what the people would say and do to Kirito and Asuna frightened Ronie to her core… 
“Um…Lady Asuna,” said Tiese, drawing Ronie’s mind out from its cycle of nervous thoughts. Asuna blinked and paused in sipping her post-lunch cofil tea. 
“What is it, Tiese?” 
“Weren’t you about to say something before we ate lunch…? Something about the Taboo Index.” 
“Oh…was I?” Asuna wondered. Ronie played back the memories in her mind. 
They’d been talking about the wisdom of whether to reveal the truth of the Synthesis Ritual to the senior Integrity Knights, when it seemed like Asuna was about to ask Kirito something about the Taboo Index. When Kirito had started talking about the loop of contradictory thoughts Raios Antinous fell into, Tiese had interrupted to ask what the meaning of the sacred word loop was, diverting the conversation to the topics of Tiese’s pad of words to remember and increasing the production of white hemp paper. In other words… 
“Hey…Tiese! It was your fault Lady Asuna couldn’t talk about her topic!” Ronie hissed. Tiese realized her mistake and stuck out her tongue. 
“Ah-ha-ha-ha, I think you’re right.” 
“Well, good going…I’m sorry about this, Lady Asuna,” Ronie said, apologizing for her friend. 
The swordswoman subdelegate just laughed and shook her head. “It’s fine. If you’re ever curious about anything, all you have to do is ask. Anyway…as for what I was trying to ask,” she said, turning to her left, “Kirito…your understanding is that the Taboo Index is an absolute rule, and those who break it either activate the Seal of the Right Eye, or in a worst-case scenario, their minds simply collapse…Is that correct?” 
Kirito nodded as he gave his cofil some milk squeezed from the cathedral stables just that morning. “Yes, I think that’s fundamentally how it goes.” 
“Then…whoever killed Yazen the cleaner at the inn in South Centoria either broke the seal in their eye, avoided the taboo somehow, or was never bound by the Taboo Index in the first place, correct?” 
“Yes, I assume it’s…one of those three. The problem is, if the third one is the case…then the culprit is from the Dark Territory, not the human realm. And that would require breaking the Law of Power from over there, which is just as powerful as the Taboo Index. Iskahn is the strongest man in the dark lands, and he put out an order to all that they’re not to commit any wrongs while in this realm…” 
Ronie decided to take up Asuna on her offer to explain any questions they had and raised her hand. “Um, may I ask something…?” 
“What is it, Ronie?” 
“On that topic…when the man in the robe kidnapped Iskahn and Sheyta’s baby, he was clearly ignoring the Law of Power. He took Lea hostage, then ordered Iskahn to kill you…” 
Asuna had read the detailed report about the incident, and Tiese had heard it directly from Ronie, but they both stiffened anyway. Kirito seemed unfazed, however. 
“That’s right,” he said. “Meaning, either the kidnapper believes he’s stronger than Iskahn, or he’s following the orders of someone whom he believes qualifies as stronger, I’m guessing.” 
“But that just feels…so vague to me. How do the people of the dark realm determine the strength of those they ought to follow? I mean, I assume they aren’t fighting each and every person individually.” 
“Iskahn used to be the leader of the pugilists guild. That’s more like sparring or dueling than fighting…but you’re right, the entire population as a whole isn’t challenging him together. It’s more like, each race and guild and group of people choose their strongest member to be the chief, and before the war, those leaders made up a group called the Council of Ten, who decided on laws and such. Now it’s changed to the Council of Five Peoples, but it still works the same way…and out of those leaders, Iskahn is considered to be the strongest in terms of individual battle power.” 
“In that case, if the kidnapper believed he was stronger than Iskahn, that alone wouldn’t violate the Law of Power, right?” Ronie wondered. “It would have to be proven by fighting Iskahn and beating him.” 
Kirito crossed his arms. “Mmm,” he hummed. “I guess it depends on the strength of his belief…During the Rebellion of the Four Empires, the emperors broke the very first rule of the Taboo Index and rebelled against the Axiom Church. Their belief that the Unification Council had taken over the Axiom Church, and their self-justification that they were taking the Church back for the sake of the pontifex, overrode the influence of the Taboo Index. If the kidnapper believed in something strong enough to cause that kind of state of mind, then maybe he could overcome the Law of Power without actually fighting Iskahn.” 
Ronie recalled the aura of pure self-belief that oozed from the being of Emperor Cruiga Norlangarth VI and felt a chill run down her back. Nearby, Tiese hunched her shoulders and murmured, “The emperor didn’t seem to care at all about what the Unification Council ordered…but that was because the imperial line had been in charge for hundreds of years. Is it really possible that someone without that kind of accumulated background could rebel against a higher power, just through the power of sheer belief?” 
It was Asuna, whose topic of conversation had once again been interrupted, who replied, “That’s a good point. Whether the Taboo Index or the Law of Power, it seems clear that the violator needs a very firm backbone of belief and justification to override the law. Oh, and when I say backbone, I mean spine, or backing, or mental support.” 
“O-oh.” 
“In fact…that’s what I was trying to ask you about, Kirito,” said Asuna, looking to her partner. He blinked in surprise. 
“What…?” 
“Regardless of whether the culprit is a resident of the human realm or dark realm, it means that either the killer, or the person who ordered the killer do it, has just as strong and twisted a mind as the four emperors’. What mystifies me is that if such people are out there, couldn’t they have done something more drastic…something as bold as kidnapping Leazetta in the Dark Territory, but over here? That’s not to demean the value of Yazen’s life…but frankly, if the culprit is trying to sow discord between the human realm and dark realm, wouldn’t there be a more effective target for the plot?” 
“Meaning, someone in a position of social power…like a noble, or a major merchant, or their family? Yeah…,” Kirito murmured. 
Ronie watched him think, then added, “Um, b-but if the Yazen incident was meant to get you to travel to the Dark Territory, then wouldn’t it not have mattered who they went after, as long as it got you to leave?” 
“Yes…that makes sense. But if I were the culprit, I’d be trying to pull off something that makes more of an impact. Because that would be more likely to lure me over to Obsidia…” 
As he grumbled and thought, Tiese surreptitiously asked Asuna what the sacred word impact meant. She was really getting her value out of that notebook today. 
You know, I wonder if Obsidia and Centoria were named after some sacred words as well. What would they correspond to? Ronie chewed on the thought. 
Then Asuna drained the last of her lightly sweetened cofil tea and said crisply, “Kirito, I think it’s worth a try.” 
“Er…try? Try what?” he replied, looking at her with more than a small amount of foreboding. Asuna’s answer shocked not just Ronie and Tiese, of course, but even the swordsman delegate, the very personification of attempting the impossible. 
“The past-scrying art Ayuha mentioned. If we really can see what happened in the past and attempt to use it in the room where the murder happened, we should be able to see who the killer really was.” 
 



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