Episode 6: Cultus Deorum
“Ahem! Ahem!”
Baron Plian Verite tidied his hair and clothes, disheveled from jumping around with Farmer Gillyan in celebration.
Seeing the fairies in such abundance for the first time in ages had nearly made him lose his wits. But he couldn’t keep staring in a daze forever.
After all, Gillyan had his own work as a farmer, and Plian—being both a wizard and the lord—had different duties to fulfill.
“Hear me!”
He spoke in a solemn, booming voice:
“Today, these noble fairy guests have graced us with their visit! Prepare a proper welcome!”
His voice rang throughout the far corners of the farm, prompting fairies, who had been dancing here and there, to prick up their ears and turn toward their lord.
Perseta also glanced over, curious.
A proper welcome? How is Father planning to greet them?
He’d never seen any wizard besides his master communicating with beings from the mystical realms. And even with his master, it had been ages ago.
Soon enough, the preparations were complete.
Baron Plian dressed himself in a ceremonial robe with five different colors on a white base: a black collar, a yellow sash across the chest, a blue right sleeve, a white trim on the left, and a red hem. It was neat yet vibrantly multicolored, long and flowing.
To be honest, it looked a bit comical.
— Look at his clothes! They’re so strange!
— He’s funny!
— Is there something interesting going on?
— Oh, that again? Boooooring.
Curious fairies flocked around him, though a few seemed unimpressed.
While many flitted closer, some wriggled uncomfortably—put off by the solemn atmosphere.
Amid that odd mix of silliness and seriousness, an altar was rapidly set up.
- In the east, they placed blue fruit and tiny blue beads no bigger than millet grains.
- In the west, white fruit, white grains, and snowy ice shavings.
- In the north, yellow fruit and honey cakes.
- In the south, red fruit and red beads piled high.
— What’s that?
— Is it food? Can we eat it?
— No idea. They might scold us if we try.
— Those beads are so pretty!
— I’ve seen them before, but somehow they look nice again…
While the fairies whispered among themselves, Baron Plian unrolled a parchment and recited a ritual text in a grave tone:
“This year! The year of the dancing golden angel! On the day in the violet moon when roosters lie down! In the hour of the white boar! From the western continent’s Dublanc Kingdom, lord of the Verite Barony, I—Verite—welcome our honored guests and hereby declare…”
He then took the chopped blue fruits and scattered them toward the fairies in the east, threw the white fruits to the west, and so on in all four directions, before reciting once more.
— What is he doing?
— No clue, but it’s funny.
— I don’t hate it… it’s just weird…
— Humans always do this sort of thing. They’re weird.
— Still, the fruit is tasty!
The fairies’ hushed chatter was heard only by Perseta; they whispered quietly among themselves, unwilling to laugh aloud during such a solemn scene, but Perseta—like a fairy himself—could understand every word.
Next, Baron Plian gathered mana and conjured a spectacular magical display.
— Woooow! What’s that?
— How amazing!
— I wonder if it’s tasty…
— All you ever think about is eating. But yeah, it might be delicious…
— Hmm… it’s always the same, though. Nothing new?
The fairies watched Plian intently—like spectators at a magic show, or as though they’d discovered a tasty new treat. But many remained indifferent.
After handing out these ephemeral constructs for the fairies to nibble on, Plian wiped the sweat from his brow, inhaled deeply, then resumed a solemn expression.
Perseta couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Excuse me… Father?”
“Hm? Perseta. Wait just a moment; the ceremony isn’t over.”
“That ceremony… what exactly is it for?”
Plian blinked in surprise.
“You didn’t learn of it? Isn’t this the Bountiful Harvest ceremony? It’s written in the thousand-year-old classic by the great archmage Konfukius, Cultus Deorum!”
Of course Perseta knew it, too.
What he hadn’t realized was that wizards were still using that ancient ritual from a thousand years ago.
Cultus Deorum—
meaning “Rites to Honor the Gods,” it was a magic text detailing ceremonies to connect with beings of various mystical realms, from fairies to gods.
At age ten, Perseta and his master had already formed their judgment on it:
Useful for certain specific situations, but otherwise pointless.
And right now, it fell into the latter category.
Perseta’s face went a bit pale. He blinked slowly and forced an awkward smile.
“Father, I’m very sorry, but… I think we should stop this ceremony.”
Plian gaped.
“What do you mean? It’s an age-old ritual that’s proved effective for a thousand years! My entire life, I’ve fed this barony with the Harvest Ceremony!”
Perseta blinked again and spoke gently but firmly:
“Yes… when the fairies weren’t visible, I’m sure it was quite helpful.”
“When they weren’t visible?”
“Right,” Perseta replied with conviction. “But right now, we can see them with our own eyes, can’t we? What ceremony in any world would perform a greeting without directly acknowledging the guests in front of you?”
Baron Plian had to admit that made sense, though he still felt uneasy.
Hadn’t that ritual worked fine for a thousand years?
“But still…”
Yet Perseta continued in a soft but certain tone:
“Father, think about it. Fairies are mischievous and free-spirited. Would they enjoy the same ceremony, done the same way for a thousand years, without ever changing? Rituals should evolve to suit the beings you’re addressing, shouldn’t they?”
That logic also seemed persuasive.
Knitting his brows, Plian asked:
“So… how should we do it?”
Perseta smiled.
“You see them right there, yes? We need to observe, interact, and discover what this group of fairies likes or dislikes—right now, in this moment. We must gather knowledge by watching carefully and experimenting. That’s the most fundamental principle.”
Uncertain, Plian stepped back.
“All right… Bardente taught you, so I can’t dismiss it outright. Complete this ceremony in your own way.”
“Yes, Father. Don’t be alarmed. Just watch closely and follow your heart.”
“Hm… very well, then.”
Perseta stepped forward.
— What’s he doing?
— Who is that?
— Something feels different now…
Perseta swept his gaze across the murmuring fairies with a smile.
“All right! Here’s a present!”
He cheerfully shouted, then reached under the altar and flipped it over.
— Waaah!!!
— Kyaaaah!
— Kyahahaha!
— What are you doing! You’re hilarious!
— It’s all falling everywhere!
The fairies erupted in excitement, soaring en masse like a burst of stars. They danced among the floating offerings, which drifted down slowly on currents of Perseta’s magic.
“Huh…!”
“Brother! What are you…?!”
“M-my lord’s son!”
“W-what are you doing, my boy?!”
Naturally, the humans panicked.
The altar! He’d overturned the altar! That was the most important part of the ceremony!
In particular, those who knew the Bountiful Harvest rite well—Illianne, Plian, Gillyan, and some of the elders—were horrified.
Yet Perseta strolled calmly among the fairies, smiling.
He extended an inviting hand:
“Come on, let’s play together! Keep your eyes open and see for yourselves what the fairies like, what they don’t like. Observe and decide.”
See for themselves?
Though still in shock, the other humans shifted their gaze back to the fairies.
“Huh? They… actually look happy, right?”
“He overturned the altar, but… they don’t mind?”
“This is… this is…”
They could see how delighted the fairies were, their enthusiasm more intense than ever.
— You’re the best!
— I’ve lived over a thousand years, and I’ve never seen a human like you!
— Let’s be friends! What’s your name?!
The swarm of fairies rushed to Perseta, chattering away, so numerous that he was nearly hidden by their shining wings.
From within their glow, Perseta beamed and spread his hands.
“Hurry—join in! We have to have fun together.”
At that cue, as if entranced, the humans stepped forward into the whirling crowd of fairies.
Man and fairy mingled in a grand revelry that had just begun.
Once they started reveling,
Fairies and humans, old and young alike, all lost their inhibitions.
“Hahaha! You like my buttons? Take ‘em! Take them all!”
Gillyan tore off the buttons on his own shirt and threw them to the fairies.
— Wow!
— He’s such a nice human!
— This is so fun!
— They’re mine, mine!
Seeing how much the fairies loved Gillyan’s buttons, a guard named Hans ripped off his armor and started yanking buttons from his undershirt.
— Wooooow! He’s giving us buttons too!
— Get in line! Hurry!
— I was here first!
A button craze swept through the fairies. People started tearing off every button on their clothes in a competitive rush to gain fairy favor.
They ended up dancing around half-undone clothes, exposing pale skin, looking utterly ridiculous.
Still, Zwart—Baron Plian’s second son—could only watch and swallow his envy.
I want to rip off my buttons too…
But he was a noble, after all—and a near-top graduate of the Imperial Academy. He couldn’t ruin the reputation of his house or school with such undignified behavior.
Seeing Illianne, who was being showered with the fairies’ affection almost as much as Perseta, only made him more envious.
“That’s… magic, huh.”
Illianne was the second-most beloved of the fairies, the first being Perseta.
Her magical constructs drew waves of delighted squeals from them, scattering in mesmerizing streams of radiant wings.
Amid that rush of shining light, she looked happier than she ever had—happier even than usual. Zwart found himself marveling:
So this is the face she makes when she’s truly happy.
He drifted toward her side.
— Who’s that? Who’s that?
— He’s huge! A treant?
The hovering fairies eyed him curiously.
“He’s my brother,” Illianne said simply.
That was all it took for them to warm up to Zwart.
— He’s your brother?
— Your other brother is hilarious!
— So pretty! Your magic is so pretty!
— Amazing! Even I’ve never seen anything like it!
They tugged at his hair, snuck under his clothes, perched on his sword hilt.
Amid all that shining splendor, Zwart couldn’t help smiling. He turned to Illianne and spoke:
“Now I understand, Illianne.”
“Understand what?”
“Why you were so set on becoming a wizard.”
“Heh. You finally get it?”
“Yes… it’s wonderful. Being a wizard…”
He locked eyes with a fairy fluttering by his nose, and for the first time, he felt envious of those who could wield magic.
Time flew by in a whirl of excitement.
Eventually, Mana’s Day ended.
Hssss…
Like night creeping up from the base of the mountain, the brilliant world of the Fairy Realm receded like a dream.
“Ah…”
“Oh…”
The people, who’d been dancing in half-unbuttoned clothes, slowly returned to their senses.
Though the sun was still in the sky, the Mana Sun had already set, bringing the Mana Night.
The festival that had happened moments ago faded like an afternoon daydream, leaving everyone feeling wistful, a bit embarrassed, and hastily buttoning up what was left of their clothes.
That was when Gillyan’s voice—no, his scream—rang out:
“My lord!!!”
“It’s a bumper crop! A bumper crop, my lord!”
Then everyone noticed.
“Wh-what is this…?”
Where once tiny fruits had barely clung to thin, scraggly vines, the fairy crops had grown large and lush, forming thick groves.
Fist-sized fruits hung in clusters from every branch.
“W-wow… Th-this… is it… the Harvest Ceremony’s effect…? H-how…”
Baron Plian gaped, mouth hanging open.
Perseta watched, rubbing his nose.
Hmm. This is going to attract some attention…
Though he’d summoned fairies many times before, it was his first time doing so in such a large area with so many participants. He’d gotten carried away in the excitement.
“Even so…”
He looked briefly conflicted, then let out a hearty laugh.
“That was fun.”
He stretched and gave a bright smile.
A small, ordinary miracle in a mere barony.
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