They were not boarding the Divine Train today. Having crossed several mountain ranges since dawn, ridden in a cargo wagon, and teleported twice, they were bone-weary from the journey. They decided to rest for a day in this town, which had a train station. "We can just pick any house in this town," Lethe said, sweeping back her pure white hair as they walked side by side. "It is a great grace and honor for them to welcome a priest, an apostle of the Goddess, into their home."
Simon blinked. "Isn’t that a nuisance?"
"Well... I suppose showing up unannounced might be a bit much," she conceded. "But this is how things are here. You saw the farmers earlier, didn’t you? They get to feed and house us, and in return, they receive the Goddess’s blessing. It’s a win-win."
Simon shook his head firmly. "It’s still an imposition. I think it would be better to just quietly check into an inn."
"Fine. If you insist, I cannot force you."
The two entered a moderately large and clean-looking inn in the center of town. The ground floor served as a tavern, while the upper floor housed the inn itself. The walls were adorned with crosses and various holy symbols, making it feel less like a public house and more like a devout family chapel. The patrons at the tables were lost in their own conversations, enjoying their food and drinks. Simon and Lethe made their way to the counter. The innkeeper, a man with a fluffy beard, was frantically setting out dishes, clearly overwhelmed by the number of customers. "Laus! May the Goddess’s blessing be with you," Simon greeted him politely. "Do you have any vacant rooms?"
The innkeeper, still wrestling with a large platter of food, gave them a cursory glance. "A man and a woman? One room with a large bed be enough?"
"Has he lost his mind?" Lethe, who had been standing beside him with her arms crossed, growled under her breath. With a grunt, the innkeeper set the food down and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Hey, if the answer’s no, you can just say no, young lady. No need for such harsh language..."
His gaze finally settled properly on Lethe. The moment he saw her white uniform, woven from sacred cloth, his jaw dropped in disbelief. "La-La-La—Laus!"
The innkeeper scrambled out from behind the counter and immediately prostrated himself at Lethe’s feet, pressing his forehead to the floor. "May the great Goddess’s blessing be with you, Priestess!"
The other customers, drawn by the commotion, turned to see what was happening. Upon seeing Lethe, they too exclaimed "Laus!" in unison and rose from their seats. "See? This is what I mean," Lethe sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Everyone, raise your heads."
The innkeeper shot his head up, his face a mask of terror. "I-I failed to recognize a priest of Efnel! I have committed a mortal sin!"
"Enough of that," she cut in sharply.
"Two of your best rooms. And put as much distance between his room and mine as possible, please."
"Ye-Yes, of course!"
The innkeeper scrambled upstairs to prepare the rooms. His family rushed out from the kitchen, also shouting "Laus!" They guided the two to a table and began bringing out plates of food. They had not even ordered, which meant the dishes meant for other customers were being rerouted to them. "We have already eaten," Lethe stated flatly. "Please take these back to their rightful owners."
"Yes, yes!"
But now, the people who had been boisterously enjoying their drinks were glancing nervously at Lethe, unable to relax. Some even pretended to pray, as if her presence demanded it. "See?" Lethe propped her chin on her hand, a smug smile playing on her lips. "I told you we should have just gone to a random house. Then we would have only inconvenienced one family. Now, how many people are we bothering just by being here?"
Simon remained silent. "When in the Federation, it is better for everyone if we follow their customs. From now on, you should listen to my..."
Just then, Simon stood up from his seat. "Good evening, my brothers and sisters."
In an instant, everyone’s attention shifted from Lethe to him. A flustered Lethe gaped, gesturing wildly for him to sit down, but Simon simply smiled as if to say, ‘Leave this to me,’ and began to speak. "My name is Ska Seraphino, a novice priest. If you do not mind, may I offer a prayer for all of you?"
At his words, everyone stopped what they were doing and, as if they had been waiting, began to clasp their hands together. Having skillfully taken control of the atmosphere, Simon clasped his own hands and began to pray. He chose a theme everyone could relate to: health, luck, and happiness. Every time Simon spoke a line, people throughout the room murmured, "Laus."
After finishing the prayer in a soothing voice, Simon lowered his hands. "It is a joyous night. We spend each day like this with the wine and food bestowed upon us by the Goddess. I believe faith is not something grandiose. It is our daily life, our habits. Is not being faithful to this grace of the Goddess a form of faith in itself?"
Simon subtly shifted his gaze. "To allow the faithful to focus solely on the grace the Goddess has bestowed upon them tonight, what do you say to granting your permission, Priestess?"
Lethe let out a silent, incredulous laugh. ‘He’s asking me to let them have fun without worrying about my presence.’ In such a short time, he had absorbed the language of the Holy Federation, made it his own, and completely captivated the locals. The way he swayed the mood with just his silver tongue truly made him seem like a genuine novice priest. ‘I hate to admit it, but he’s good. I do not think I will have to worry about him getting caught by a Heretic Inquisitor on the train.’
Lethe nodded. "Very well. I grant my permission."
As she spoke, she raised her wine glass. "Let us give thanks for the Goddess’s grace."
"For her grace, we give thanks!" everyone roared in unison, taking a sip of their wine or water. The atmosphere relaxed as if by magic, and the room once again filled with boisterous chatter. They were finally laughing and enjoying themselves without nervously watching Lethe, the tavern returning to its lively state. Simon sat back down. "How was that?"
"...Tch. Not bad, I guess," Lethe conceded. She had watched his efforts for the past two weeks, so she could not really argue. "But seriously, how are you so good at praying when you do not even believe in the Goddess?"
"Health, luck, happiness," Simon replied with a small smile. "It may not be faith, but universal human sincerity can still connect with people."
He felt he had made a good start in his role as a priest. Just then, the owner came down and announced that the rooms were ready. The two went up to the second floor and unpacked. The exhausted Lethe collapsed onto her bed immediately, while Simon asked for her permission to go out and buy something. She scanned him with a suspicious gaze before burying her face in her pillow. "Do not do anything stupid. Just buy what you need and come straight back."
"Got it."
It seemed that earning some points with her downstairs had worked in his favor. Simon stepped out of the inn into the cool evening breeze. ‘First, I need to secure some funds.’
After asking the residents for directions, Simon found the town’s antique shop. There, he exchanged an ancient coin, similar to the one he had given the broker, for cash. The coin’s value was lower than the previous one, but he managed to get enough money to live on in the Holy Federation during his vacation. The Holy Federation’s currency system was unified under a single currency called the ‘Blanc’, with the approximate value as follows:
Gold = 100,000 Blanc. 1 Silver = 100 Blanc. He had just exchanged the coin for twenty million Blanc, about two hundred Gold in the Dark Alliance. It was more than enough for his travel funds. "Where is the market in this town?"
"Ah! At this hour, the night market should be open. Just head down that street over there."
"Thank you!"
Simon blended in naturally with the locals. Whenever he remembered he was a necromancer, he felt a strange thrill being in the heart of the Holy Federation. Of course, just like at the inn, he was confident he would not be caught. ‘They are people, too, after all.’
He felt that the hostility between the Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation was dangerously extreme. In the Federation, they taught that the Dark Alliance was a cursed land occupied by evil demons. They claimed that ninety percent of the land was rotting because it did not receive the Goddess’s grace, that not a single blade of grass or grain could grow, and that most of the population had turned into zombies—a pit of evil where lewd acts were commonplace. The Dark Alliance was not much different. They portrayed the Holy Federation as a place where corrupt clergy exploited the common people to death for the sake of their Goddess. They claimed the streets were piled high with the bodies of those who had starved to death, but the reality seemed far from such a scene. If only they could visit each other’s lands, he thought, they would quickly realize how false those stories were. ‘Wow.’
He had arrived at the night market. Even though it was late, exotic, bright lights illuminated the stalls, which were packed tightly together. As a stranger in a strange land, Simon truly felt like a traveler as he wandered through the bustling, brightly lit market. ‘First, what I need to buy is...’
Simon stopped in front of a stall. "Laus! May the Goddess’s protection be with you, adventurer. Is there anything you are looking for?"
The merchants in the Holy Federation rarely engaged in loud hawking. Instead, if you stopped to look at their goods, they would immediately approach, greet you, and only then become more proactive. "How much is this?"
Simon had picked up a mask that covered his entire face. It was white, with the wrinkles around the eyes and cheeks covered in a black geometric pattern. He had seen quite a few masks like this around the market. It would be impossible to investigate everyone who bought one. "Five thousand Blanc!"
About fifty Silver. Not bad, he thought. ‘Alright, which one should I get?’
There were many similar designs, so Simon pondered which color to choose.
A scent. He could smell it. The man had caught the scent thirty minutes ago. As if possessed, he had turned his steps and entered the night market. He paused, focusing. The market was crowded. When there are many people, scents mix. But this foul stench, slightly burnt yet putrid, was distinct even among the countless other smells. ‘The smell of Jet-Black.’
The man walked, relying not on his sight, but solely on his sense of smell. He bumped into a few people, who reacted with annoyance or shouts, but he ignored them. Like a madman, he focused only on the scent. Walking frantically through the night market, the man sniffed, his nostrils flaring. The distinct burnt smell of Jet-Black. And the smell of corpses. The man was certain. ‘A necromancer is on the loose.’
He spun around, frantically scanning his surroundings. ‘The smell is getting stronger.’
The burnt odor stung his nose. This was the place. He stopped abruptly and looked around. ‘Where? Where is he?’
And right next to the man who was frantically searching, Simon was mixed in with the crowd, choosing a mask at a stall. After selecting a mask he liked, Simon paid for it and walked away. "You."
The man lunged forward and seized someone by the collar. However, the person he grabbed was not Simon, who had just passed by, but a large man next to him. The big man, suddenly accosted, scowled. "What the? Who is this bastard?"
The man ignored his words, yanked the big man’s clothes, and ripped them open. Then, he buried his nose in the man’s bare skin and sniffed. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent from the left side of his chest. It was not the burnt smell. Just the stale, foul stench of sweat. Nausea rose in his throat just when... ‘Bam!’
Struck by the big man’s fist, the smaller man collapsed to the ground. The big man shouted with a disgusted expression, "You’re insane! What the hell? Who is this psycho bastard?!"
Murmuring, the market crowd backed away, forming a circle around the two. "What’s going on, a fight?"
"Wow, look at the size of that guy."
The big man cracked his knuckles and approached with a menacing expression. The smaller man staggered to his feet. ‘Damn it.’
The metallic taste of blood rose to his nose, and he lost the scent. Having lost the necromancer he had almost caught, a surge of irritation washed over him. "Oh, Goddess."
The man staggered to his feet and made a holy sign. Then, in a small, cold voice, he began to mutter, "I have awaited the time of judgment. Today, I send another of your creations to the Goddess’s embrace. If his punishment is light, embrace him in your bosom; if his punishment is heavy, cast him into eternal hell."
"What’s this bastard rambling about! Haven’t you been hit enough?"
As the big man strode forward, the surrounding crowd quickly parted. Soon, the big man let out a roar and threw a punch. The punch, thrown with all his might, was easily blocked by the smaller man’s raised hand. The big man, sweating profusely, could not make him budge, no matter how much strength he used. He could not even pull his fist back. "Aaaaaaaargh!"
The back of the big man’s hand bent back to touch his wrist. When the man let go, the big man clutched his dislocated wrist and dropped to one knee. "You."
The man crouched down. "Are you a heretic?"
At that single word, the big man’s face turned white. The reaction of the people around them was the same. They covered their mouths or screamed. Some who were farther away even turned and fled. "I lost him because of you. You did it on purpose, did you not? What is your relationship with him?"
A Subspace opened behind the man. A breaking wheel, a cutting machine, a rack, a large saw, a mace, a spiked mace, stocks—countless instruments of torture fell and scattered on the ground. "Heretic Inquisitor Metin."
He gripped a mace bristling with spikes and raised it above his head. "The heretic inquisition will now begin."

Comments

Loading...