Chapter 537: House of Schwarzenberg
After the deal was done, Ivyrine came in with what looked like a Cheval Spiritual Screener, but was more intricate and portable than the heavier instrument the receptionists pulled around.
Either that, or Ivyrine had a gorilla’s strength. I want to think it’s the latter.
“Naturally, as a thousand-years-old or so god-touched, normal Screeners will never be able to withstand your power.” Her voice was calm and quite serious. “This one is specially calibrated for entities of your nature. It should be able to read you without breaking, as long as you don’t actively resist the reading.”
A Thousand what?!
Eric told him my fake age?
My head snapped toward Eric, who was standing near the door like a nervous sentinel, his face flushing a deep crimson as he suddenly found the grain of the wood paneling absolutely fascinating.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I waved my hands in the air to get their attention, my voice rising with indignation. “I am (more or less) thirty-six years old, not a thousand. Thirty-six. Three decades and six years. I’m still growing!”
“…Pfft! Hahaha!”
Another general reaction from the lot of them, even Ivyrine, and Yuki this time around.
The laughter erupted like a geyser, filling the office with its booming, unrestrained volume.
The stoic and composed Yuki had a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, her eyes crinkling with amusement.
I don’t understand.
Why do they think I’m lying?
[And stop laughing with them, Heka, or we’re spending 10 years in Thaad!] I projected the thought with as much force as I could muster, letting the threat hang in the air between us.
[Eh?! Apologies! I’ll desist at once!] Her laughter cut off so abruptly that she almost choked, her face going pale.
She straightened up immediately, her posture shifting from relaxed to rigid, her hands dropping the treasure chest items she’d been examining.
“Haha, you sure have a good sense of humor, Benjamin!” Armstrong wiped a tear and slipped back into the hardened Guild Master persona, his face smoothing into its previous serious expression. “Now, this Screener will not fail like the others. It is not run by tiny spirits, but THE Spirit of nature, Titania.”
He said the name with reverence, his voice dropping to a near whisper, and his eyes glazing with something that looked like worship.
“Pfft! Cough, cough, cough!!” I choked on spit and nearly died.
The name hit me like a physical blow, sending a shockwave through my system that made my lungs seize and my throat constrict.
“Benjamin?! Are you alright?” The others seemed concerned about my outburst, as Armstrong calmly wiped my saliva that hit his face.
He didn’t seem to be disturbed by it, and that disturbed me. His expression remained neutral and serene, as if getting spat on by a god-touched was a blessing.
But what the hell?! Mentioning Titania all of a sudden!
She’s the current fairy queen, but I usually forget she used to be the original Superior Spirit of Nature.
The connection had always been there in the back of my mind, a piece of trivia I’d filed away and never really thought about.
But hearing her name in this context, in this formal setting, brought it all crashing back with uncomfortable clarity.
And wait!
“The Adventurer Guild is recognized by such a renowned figure?! Not just the fairy queen?!” I asked them, my voice raised and eyes wide.
The distinction was important. Titania the fairy queen was one thing—a political figure, a ruler of a realm, and someone you might have diplomatic dealings with.
But Titania the Superior Spirit of Nature was something else entirely. She was a force of creation, a fundamental aspect of the world itself, the kind of being that mortals wrote hymns about and built temples for.
Having the blessing of that short stack fairy queen was one thing, but having the blessing of THE Spirit was another.
I’d spent time with Titania, I’d seen her in her fairy form, I’d watched her drink tea, complain about not given enough time to play around, and bicker with Tesa and Tera.
It was… hard to reconcile that image with the cosmic entity in Armstrong’s mind.
“Hahaha! I would like to thank you for the treat just now, but my wife will kill me later,” Armstrong said, seriously looking at the handkerchief he used to wipe the saliva, as Ivyrine calmly dragged it away from him with a barely concealed grimace. “It is great to see you’re well learned. Well, what should I expect from a thousand-years-old hero? Nevertheless, you are correct. Titania the fairy is one and the same as the Superior Spirit of Nature. She simply lost a lot of her divine grace with her fall to fairy.”
He said the last part with a note of tragedy, as if he was recounting the fall of a great empire.
The information seemed to be new to everyone there, including Heka who knew her personally as a fairy.
Titania, the queen of Fairylynch is popular, because yeah, she’s a literal queen.
But it appears folks think she was sort of “named” Titania by her parents, rather than being the actual person.
“By the way,” Armstrong continued, now somehow being smug, his chest puffing out slightly as he spoke, “the House of Schwarzenberg, of which I descend, receives direct blessings from the elegant and beautiful Superior Spirit of Darkness who serves Queen Titania till this day.”
His voice was filled with pride, his chin lifted, his eyes gleaming with a sense of personal accomplishment.
I get it. That’s awesome. Tera is awesome.
But… something tells me people have an exaggerated view of those fairies: absolutely gorgeous, yes. But Tera is a bundle of trouble and mischief who won’t mind defiling the dead or doing genocide.
The mortals in this room had no idea what they were actually dealing with.
But ignorance truly is bliss.
I kept my mouth shut, letting Armstrong bask in his moment of pride, letting the others marvel at the connection his family had to such powerful beings.
According to Armstrong, this Cheval Spiritual Screener ran on Titania’s rules and magic, and I’ll have to be several levels more powerful than a literal goddess-level entity to break this one.
He tapped the portable Screener with a finger. It was sturdy, solid, built to withstand forces that would have shattered the previous artifacts into dust.
It turns out that even Heka’s tree-class verdict almost broke the one down stairs, as I initially feared. It could handle it barely, but normally the artifact screened novice, not monsters.
You learn if you’ve entered a new class from your adventure’s ID, not the Screener.
The receptionists’ artifacts were designed for ordinary applicants—people with ordinary levels of spiritual energy. They weren’t built for people like Heka.