Chapter 458: Cannibalistic Ritual

MacFie wrapped his napkin around his fingers and slowly wiped his hands.

"You can eat it, but there's no need to."

"Why?" Richard asked.

"Ultimately, it comes down to the stage of civilization."

The white-haired giant pushed his empty plate away to make room for his arms.

"The earliest people only ate their food raw because they didn't know any other way."

"They had no salt pans, distillers, or alchemical furnaces. They didn't even have a kiln that could reach seven hundred degrees."

"When you're holding something still warm in your hands, you either eat it right then, or you wait for it to cool and turn into a useless slab of meat."

Catherine took her notebook off her lap and spread it open on the table.

Richard pulled his out as well.

Seeing both notebooks flip open in unison, MacFie automatically shifted into lecture mode.

"Since you're taking notes, I'll start from the beginning."

"Let's talk about processing first."

"The Ashcore Grass, Multi-Eyed Black Moss, corpse wax, Dao remnant ash, and Ether Condensate you've handled—which of those went straight into your pockets from behind the veil?"

Richard thought for a moment.

"They all have to be processed first."

"Processed how?"

"Ashcore Grass has to be shade-dried and crushed. Corpse wax needs to be boiled in saltwater and sealed. And for condensates, you have to check the source—if they come from somewhere filthy, they must be purified first."

"Right." MacFie tapped the table.

"Salt, fire, distillation, sealing, incantations—our entire process is a form of cleansing."

He spread his hands.

"When materials from behind the veil first emerge, they might be a fingernail, a shed skin, or a breath that wasn't fully exhaled."

"What we do is wash all of that away. We only dare put them in the furnace once they're clean."

Catherine's pen paused, and she looked up.

MacFie read her gaze.

"You want to ask where the washed-away parts go."

The red-haired girl nodded.

MacFie gave a straightforward answer.

"That is the loss."

"When an alchemist delivers a batch, they'll tell you the yield is sixty-seven percent, with a loss of thirty-three percent."

"Of that thirty-three percent, a portion truly is washed away, and the rest..."

He threw his hands up.

"...might just be pocketed by them."

Richard looked up.

"So the advantage of eating it raw is that there is no loss."

MacFie glanced at him, thinking the kid's comprehension was indeed high. No wonder Old Mo treasured him so much.

"Correct. Some materials only hold their value when they are kept whole."

"If you butcher an evil creature into its heart, liver, bones, and skin, and process them one by one, every part can still be used afterward."

"But what bleeds away in the middle is actually irreplaceable."

"That's why the Moon Hunting Tradition still retains an old rule to this day."

He fished the flat hip flask out of his coat, unscrewed it, and then screwed it back on, ultimately not taking a drink.

"While the blood is still warm, the first mouthful belongs to the hunter."

Is this still practiced now? Catherine wrote.

"Not in formal settings," MacFie said.

"The Guild has regulations, and the authorities have it on record. Anyone who tries this on a field mission has to write a report when they get back."

"But in those few villages north of the Highlands, when Hunters take their apprentices on their first real hunt, they still do it."

"They just don't invite outsiders to watch."

He tucked the flask back into his coat.

The table was quiet for a moment.

Just then, the cook came over carrying a basket of bread. He set it on the table and looked at the three of them.

"Gentlemen, do you need anything else?"

"Not for now."

The cook left, but after taking three steps, he turned back to glance at the leg of lamb they had picked clean to the bone.

MacFie waited until he was far enough away, then leaned forward.

"Since we're on the subject, I'll give you a few examples."

Richard could tell.

The professor had shifted from simply answering a student's question to fully committing to finishing this lesson.

"Take the ancient barbarians who wore bear and wolf pelts."

"When they fought, they wore no armor and felt no pain. Even after they went down, it took several men to pin them."

"Their initiation rite was to eat a raw bear heart on a winter's night."

And after eating it? Catherine wrote.

"After eating it, they weren't allowed to speak for three days. If they opened their mouths, what they'd just eaten would escape along with their words."

"Their saying was that a name and a breath both leave through the same hole."

"When you swallow a bear's heart, it hasn't yet accepted you as its new master in your stomach."

"If you open your mouth and shout, it's the same as opening the door for it."

Richard jotted this down in his notebook.

MacFie tore off a piece of bread.

"Then there's the Celtic bull feast."

Catherine's pen stopped.

I know this one, she wrote.

"You might know the name, but you don't know the process."

The white-haired giant dipped his piece of bread into his soup.

"They slaughter a white bull—the kind without a single stray colored hair."

"After the kill, they choose one person to eat its meat and drink its broth."

One person eats the whole thing? Catherine wrote, quickly adding another line:

We have two people right here who have already accomplished that tonight.

Beside her, Richard almost laughed out loud.

MacFie glared at the girl and continued.

"After they finish eating, they strip off that raw, still-wet hide and wrap the person completely inside it to sleep."

"Four priests stand by, chanting the truth incantation all night without a single pause."

"They chant until dawn, then wake him up."

"Whoever he dreams of when he wakes up is the next king."

Richard gripped his pen, thinking silently.

One person eating a whole bull, then being wrapped in a still-wet raw hide, with four people guarding them all night.

From start to finish, the entire process seemed like mystical humbug.

Yet Richard saw the core of it. "Is this also about the right to define?"

MacFie turned his head to look at him.

"Yes. Primitive rituals and modern rituals are actually interconnected."

He put the bread down.

"However, the reason it hasn't survived to this day is that half the kings chosen by this ritual died in their coronation year."

"Why?"

"Because the name in the dream was forced out by the truth incantation."

"The truth incantation doesn't care about good or bad; it only tells you whose name is the loudest that year."

"And the person with the loudest name isn't necessarily fit to be king."

Catherine finished copying that line and looked up again.

Then what kind of person can eat it without anything going wrong?

MacFie looked at her.

"Either they already don't count as human, in which case they can eat anything without issue."

"And the other kind?" Richard asked.

"By relying on various rituals."

MacFie drew a line on the tablecloth with his finger.

"But think about it carefully. Is there a difference between that and processing?"

Richard considered it.

"...No."

"Right. One is processing outside the body, and the other is processing inside."

"The only difference is that if external processing goes wrong, at worst, you blow up a furnace."

"But if internal processing goes wrong, the person who ate it might just be gone."

He stuffed the last half piece of bread into his mouth and chewed twice.

"Speaking of which, I'll mention one more thing."

"The Abyss Tradition has a universal ritual that is still in use today."

"Different places have different names for it, but we call it a cannibalistic ritual."

...Cannibalism. Man eating man really was an eternal motif of human society, Richard thought.

"Professor, have you eaten it?" Catherine asked very directly.

Richard's thoughts were instantly interrupted. He stared at MacFie across the table.

MacFie sat there, his eyes lingering on his students' faces for a long time.

"I have, but I threw it up."

He didn't explain what he had eaten. After saying that, he pushed his chair back and stood up.

"I'm going to ask the cook if there's any more bread."

The white-haired giant rounded the corner of the table and walked toward the kitchen.

...

Early morning on the twenty-third, King's Cross Station.

MacFie arrived first.

The professor carried an old leather bag in his left hand. It was very flat, looking as though it only held a stack of papers.

"Professor, where's your luggage?"

MacFie held up the leather bag and shook it.

"Right here."

"That's it?"

"A book, an engraving knife, and a flat hip flask."

"That's enough for me."

The knife and flask were on his person, so the bag really did just contain a single book. Richard's guess had been right.

When Catherine arrived, she carried a handbag containing only rubbing paper, Silver Needles, and a change of clothes.

MacFie nodded.

Richard was a different story. Though he wasn't dragging a suitcase, he carried a canvas bag on his back stuffed to the brim.

"What do you have in there?"

"A camera, a Rubbing Machine, three Soul-Devouring Beast Tooth Needles, a Light Storage Device, two packs of condensates..."

"Stop."

"And rations."

"How much?"

"Three days' worth."

MacFie closed his eyes.

"Kid, we have an old saying where I'm from."

"The less a person carries on a long journey, the farther they walk."

"Catherine, lift his bag."

The red-haired girl reached out and hefted it, furrowing her brow.

"It's heavy."

"It should be heavy. Let him carry it himself. By the time he hauls it up north, he'll know what to throw away."

Since this trip was publicly funded, the three of them took a first-class carriage.

The five military carriages behind them were covered with tarps, and soldiers were packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the open freight cars.

Half an hour after the train set off, MacFie began explaining their mission.

"Although we only have one thing to do on this trip, the matter stems from two causes."

"The Tania sank on May seventh. Out of the more than nineteen hundred people on board, fewer than eight hundred made it ashore alive."

"Of the ones who died, more than half are still drifting out there to this day."

"Then there are the twelve standing stones at Covered Fire Village. The people guarding them all died last winter, and the routine reinforcement in April was not done."

"We are going to handle these two issues together."

Richard glanced at MacFie, who didn't look too happy.

"Professor, was this your idea?"

MacFie answered quickly.

"Yes. I argued with people for half a month, preparing for this the whole time."

"The Department of Classics said this is a maritime affair, the Admiralty said it's a sealing issue, and the Church said the victims of the Tania should fall under their jurisdiction for rites."

"The three sides passed the buck back and forth for half a month, and none of them were willing to pay up."

He flipped a page of his paperwork.

"In the end, this is what I told them."

"If that array at Covered Fire Village isn't reinforced this year, there will be a massive hole in the north by next year."

"Fixing the seal array costs money, but plugging that hole will cost lives."

"Money or lives—choose for yourselves."

Catherine wrote in her notebook: They chose money?

"They chose to drag it out."

MacFie sneered.

"They dragged it out until I agreed to take on the sleep-return for the maritime affair too. Only then did they sign."

"This way, the cost can be split evenly. The money comes from both sides.

The Admiralty logs it as the resettlement of the Tania victims, and the Academy logs it as the annual maintenance for the Northern Greater Region seals."

"Old Mo and two other professors at the Academy are backing us up remotely."

MacFie glanced at Richard.

"But don't expect them to actually lift a finger."

"All they can do is yank us back if things go south out there."

At that point, Richard heard someone next door discussing the news: the Apennine Kingdom had formally declared war on the other side yesterday.

A colonel on leave, sitting by the window, took his pipe out of his mouth and offered a remark.

"Another front opens up."

Outside the window, a construction site passed by.

Searchlights were mounted in midair, and rows of scaffolding stood tall. It was a factory building that hadn't yet been roofed.

They were working through the night here too. The sound of rivet guns pierced the train windows, as dense as falling rain.

Catherine jotted a line in her notebook and pushed it over to Richard.

At this time last year, this was a wheat field.

The train was halted shortly after two in the morning, and it stayed stopped for a full three hours.

Richard was woken by a bright light. Opening his eyes, he felt the air inside the carriage had grown somewhat stifling.