Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 077. Proof (2)

The world was broadly divided into three parts.

‘Barbarland’, where barbarians and pagans ran rampant.

‘Anapik’, where order had yet to take shape.

And the land of civilization, ‘Hellas’.

Without need for explanation, the greatest and most beautiful land among the three was, of course, Hellas.

In a pitch-black world stained with madness and barbarity, only Hellas had built civilization by taking faith and reason as its lamps.

So how could one not take pride in it?

And one of the things that represented that civilization was the Talaria Weekly.

The Talaria Weekly was an institution founded by Hermes, the god of travelers, messengers, thieves, merchants, shepherds, and orators, and it bore the role of delivering all events and information across Hellas to the Hellenes.

Barbarians could not understand why the Talaria Weekly was so great, but that was simply because barbarians were foolish and ignorant.

The very act of being able to read a newspaper meant one was a civilized person who understood letters, and seeking out and reading information oneself meant being a cultured individual who took interest in worldly affairs.

In other words, the newspaper was both the boundary that divided barbarians from civilized people, and a means by which the Hellenes shared their unique identity.

‘We are civilized!’, ‘We are a people chosen by the gods!’

Of course, it did not serve only such spiritual and symbolic roles.

From a practical standpoint as well, the Talaria Weekly played an immensely important role in Hellas.

It informed people of the world’s political climate and disasters, giving them a chance to prepare for crises; it warned of the rise of tyrants and villains, alerting people to the advance of evil; and it announced the emergence of heroes, spreading hope.

However, where there is light, there is also shadow.

The Talaria Weekly, too, carried certain problems.

Some unscrupulous reporters accepted ‘bribes’ and concealed or manipulated the truth, while others, blinded by ‘achievements’, exaggerated or distorted facts.

They committed the heinous sin of violating Hermes’s divine command to reveal the truth.

Sadly, such people appeared from time to time, whenever they were forgotten.

“This is one of those cases, too!”

In the lounge beside the training grounds of Chiron Tower.

Someone shouted while clutching a crumpled newspaper in one hand.

A practitioner training at Chiron Tower, and on the newspaper he held, the same headline was stamped in enormous letters.

「The Practitioner Killer Who Protected Practitioners from Erysichthon! Turns Out He’s a Practitioner Protector?!」

An utterly unpleasant headline at first glance.

The content was even more absurd.

It claimed that while the New Argonaut Expedition Team and the Western Alliance, who had fought against the Forest Brotherhood, were too terrified to do anything against Erysichthon the Devourer, it was Anagin, infamous as the Practitioner Killer, who had saved them.

There was even an illustration to go with it.

Needless to say, the article sent Chiron Tower into an uproar—especially among the practitioners of the same cohort who were close to the New Argonaut Expedition Team.

What was the New Argonaut Expedition Team?

It was a group composed solely of the most elite practitioners of Chiron Tower. And under the direct leadership of Great Master Chiron, no less.

In short, the New Argonaut Expedition Team could be said to represent the young practitioners currently at Chiron Tower.

And yet an article had been published claiming that those representatives had panicked and been rescued by some nobody who had rolled in from the countryside.

“Everyone knows those Talaria reporter bastards will do anything to sell papers, right?!”

A practitioner who could not accept the article’s content shouted again in agitation.

Well, it wasn’t entirely wrong.

The job of Talaria’s reporters was to sell newspapers by publishing shocking news, and to do that, they often made up all sorts of stories.

A noble who supposedly provided supplies to a disaster zone was actually skimming goods, healing mages turned out to be secretly conducting human experiments, secret romances between famous musicians and actors, or royal affairs.

Even when it later turned out that everything had been a misunderstanding, there were countless cases where Talaria’s reporters did not even issue an apology.

An attitude of, things like that happen when you’re working.

This case would surely be the same.

A strategy to boost newspaper sales by not only turning Chiron Tower’s rising stars into cowards, but also slapping hollow fame onto some country bumpkin.

And the clearest piece of evidence was....

“Look. The reporter at the end. He’s a trainee reporter, right?”

“Huh? You’re right. A trainee.”

The Talaria Weekly was ranked into trainee reporters, junior reporters, mid-level reporters, senior reporters, and the editor-in-chief. Naturally, the higher the rank, the greater the reporter’s ability and credibility.

Conversely, that meant that trainees—the very bottom of the bottom—had neither ability nor credibility. Proof that the article’s content was nonsense.

“...But isn’t it strange? How could a trainee reporter fill an entire page?”

A fellow practitioner listening nearby voiced a doubt, and everyone reacted with, ‘Ah, that’s true.’

Newspapers had physical size limitations, and the amount of content that could be printed was restricted.

Naturally, it was customary for senior reporters to occupy the most space. For a junior reporter’s article to be printed prominently was only possible in the case of a true scoop.

While the Erysichthon incident was certainly scoop-worthy, it wasn’t the kind of story a mere trainee reporter should be handling.

And yet, that trainee’s article filled an entire page.

What was going on?

The practitioners gathered in the lounge were not all experts on newspapers, but they could at least tell that something was unnatural.

After all, it made no sense for a mere trainee reporter to write an article that smeared the face of Chiron Tower.

Following Great Master Chiron’s teachings, the practitioners of Chiron Tower inferred the chain of cause and effect.......

“Hm?!”

At length, they realized something.

“I’ve got it! That guy Anagin must have used some kind of trick!”

Of course, that could not be said to be the correct answer.

* * *

“Now then, explain yourself. Or did you really take money under the table?”

Nurius, one of the mere four senior reporters at the Talaria Weekly, asked in an irritated voice.

It wasn’t just his voice that carried irritation.

His foot was tapping while one leg was crossed over his knee, his chin was resting crookedly on his hand, veins were bulging on his forehead, and he wore a stiff smile

Nurius was broadcasting with his entire body: I am extremely irritated right now.

There were many reasons for that irritation.

The fact that he had a subordinate who wasted the blessing of a god on thievery, fraud, and womanizing, yet never got fired.

That same guy suddenly showing up and talking nonsense about wanting to work again.

That he couldn't just kick him out because he brought in a fairly good scoop.

Just when he thought the guy might start acting like a decent human being, he insisted on writing a dangerously reckless article, and that even though Nurius, as his superior, clearly said no, he contacted the editor-in-chief separately to force the article into print…

There were so many that he could talk all night if he listed them one by one!

But the biggest problem of all was that all of those reasons stemmed from a single person.

The bastard yapping right in front of him!

“My beloved and respected Sir Nurius! Do I really look like the kind of man who writes false articles for money? If I needed money, I could always make a killing through fraud, gambling, or pickpocketing!”

“Oh, fucking hell....”

One of the mid-level reporters nearby spat out the curse Nurius had been holding back.

Hermes, who had founded the Talaria Weekly, was indeed the god of swindlers and thieves—but this was still a newspaper office. There should not be someone who was a hybrid of con artist and pickpocket working here.

And yet, there was.

And he was brazen about it.

Nurius, who could interview even formidable heroes without losing his nerve, felt a headache coming on for the first time in a long while and seriously pondered the question.

Just what in the world was this damned Klephthys’s true identity, that he hadn’t been fired long ago?

What kind of backing did he have that he could shove an article guaranteed to clash with Chiron Tower straight into the editor-in-chief’s hands and get it splashed across the front page?

It wasn’t as though he had no guesses at all.......

But Nurius soon stopped thinking.

He knew this wasn’t a problem that could be solved by brooding alone, and worrying over unsolvable problems was the height of waste.

If you couldn’t avoid it, it was better to enjoy it—or at least exploit the situation to the fullest.

“Hoo, fine....”

Senior reporter Nurius finally spoke.

At that, the mid-level reporters stationed around them all fell silent and straightened up.

“Then explain it. Why did you wrote 「The Practitioner Killer Who Protected Practitioners from Erysichthon! Turns Out He’s a Practitioner Protector?!」, and why, despite my opposition, you went behind my back to the editor-in-chief and forced it into print. What were you thinking?”

As the conversation shifted from pointless blame to something productive, even the playful Klephthys dropped one layer of his mischievous grin.

“......Before I explain the insane thing I did, allow me to ask one question. Why does our Talaria Weekly exist?”

“To uncover the truths hidden in Hellas, eradicate evil, and bring good to light.”

“Ding-dong-ding~! Correct. If I were looking for a nice-sounding, textbook answer, I’d give you 120 out of 100 points. But what I want isn’t that dressed-up reason. I want the real reason.”

Snap.

A sound like something snapping echoed, and everyone glared at Klephthys.

Depending on how one took it, it could be seen as an insult to Lord Hermes, who founded the Talaria Weekly.

Blasphemy!

“Ah, why is everyone like this? We all know the truth isn’t always beautiful! And some of that truth passed through our own hands as articles, didn’t it?”

Whether he truly had powerful backing, or whether a brain soaked in gambling and thievery had finally lost all sense of fear, Klephthys prattled on arrogantly.

“The truth is sausage meat, and reporters are sausage makers.”

Amid the air thick with discontent, senior reporter Nurius spoke.

“The truth is guts and rotten meat, fat, spices, and a little bit of shit. And reporters tie it all together and make it look presentable.”

“As expected of the Lord Nurius I admire. Exactly—”

“—But I’m the only one here who’s allowed to say that out loud. Not some perpetual trainee trash. So cut the bullshit and get straight to the point. We’re not idiots you can sell newspapers to.”

“......What I want to say is that the Talaria Weekly has to sell—a lot. Not just sell, but sell with articles that shake the world. That is what Lord Hermes truly desires.”

The senior reporter did not deny it. Hermes had founded the Talaria Weekly to expand his domain and authority.

And reporters staked their lives on scoops to receive Hermes’s blessing.

“So this Anagin guy is worth that much?”

“Yes. Based on my gut feeling from meeting him at the Ruin Village.”

“And that justifies writing this kind of shit about Chiron Tower?”

A mid-level reporter who had been listening quietly interjected.

If complaints came in from Chiron Tower, which had raised countless heroes, things could get very troublesome.

“Hah! That won’t happen. At worst, it’ll just scratch an old scab. Why would they make a fuss?”

To his own frustration, senior reporter Nurius found himself agreeing.

If the article were true, protesting would be nothing but spitting on their own face. Retaliation behind the scenes would be a different matter, but that too seemed unlikely.

Great Master Chiron was, surprisingly, not very interested in articles.

“Even if some problems do arise, if we end up covering Anagin, who’ll generate countless stories for us going forward, isn’t that a net gain?”

Klephthys spoke purely from a commercial standpoint. Whether he was ignorant or fearless was unclear.

Senior reporter Nurius nodded.

“You’re not wrong.”

“You think so too?”

“Yes. As long as he keeps giving us material.”

“He will.”

“And how are you so sure?”

“That bastard’s personality is truly fucked up. I know because I took a beating from him in the Ruin Village.”

* * *

“What did you just say?”

The communal dining hall is on the fifth floor of Chiron Tower. Several practitioners surrounded Anagin and questioned him.

“That you lot are nothing special. You deaf or something?”