Even amidst his busy schedule, he had consistently examined the situation in the West, all based on a tiny suspicion embedded within the rude letter. It was a skill beyond admiration, enough to send chills down his spine. Yuder blinked blankly for a moment before he managed to open his mouth.
"That's... really impressive."
"Impressive, what nonsense. I merely gave the orders. The loyal knights carried out the task."
"Are you saying that Sir Aile wouldn't believe it was real? Please clarify the whole process."
Suddenly, Nathan Zuckerman, who had been standing near Kishiar, interjected. Kishiar's previously laughing face subtly changed. Yuder, puzzled, turned to look at Nathan.
"What do you mean?"
"It's true that you dispatched our Peletta Knights to verify the truth of the contents of the request letter. But after you grasped the dark intentions of the local lord there, you didn't order an immediate return. Instead, you sent more people, not just because of the monsters that had appeared out of season…"
"Oh, Nathan, that's enough."
Kishiar interrupted Nathan's words. However, Yuder seemed to understand the rest of the cut-off sentence.
"Did you order them to sit there helplessly as a form of protest?"
"Something like that."
"It wasn't that direct, though."
Kishiar sighed, resignedly answering.
"Monsters are often referred to as a curse of the god, aren't they? If they really appeared at this time, it looked certain that it was the lord's fault, so I just asked them to stay and observe. It turned out that he was indeed extremely immoral."
"Thanks to that, the lord there is about to be anonymously reported with the evidence we collected and is scheduled to be tried in the capital. The unusual movement of the monsters compared to previous years was an incidental discovery, so we could say it was a secondary harvest."
Nathan spoke curtly. Kishiar narrowed his eyes and smiled contentedly.
"It's like we did some advance research."
"Do you know how hard it was for the rest of us knights, including myself, to deal with the absence of several people chasing after that swine during this busy time?"
It was only then that Yuder understood why the usually stoic knight had responded to his lord's words.
'So that's what it was.'
If they had to deal with reduced staff during the busy festival period due to an inconceivable reason, anyone would have been upset.
"You've ruined my chance to show off my skills in front of my respectful assistant because of you, Nathan. The momentum's gone."
"Sir Aile should also know the truth, shouldn't he?"
"If this issue causes my assistant to lose respect for me, you'll be responsible."
"… I believe you made a reasonable choice, sir."
At Yuder's response, Nathan and Kishiar simultaneously turned to look at him.
"Do you mean that sincerely, Sir Aile?"
"Yes."
"Do you mean you would have done the same?"
"Well, I'm not sure. If I had the authority to punish the fake request, I might have personally overturned their entire living area into a field."
Compared to that, how humane and rational was it to find evidence of immorality and hand it over for trial?
Nathan Zuckerman held his silence for a moment. Kishiar, who had opened his eyes slightly wider, burst into laughter. A knight's gaze, seeming to scrutinize Yuder's mind, swept over his face.
"...When Sir Aile speaks like that, it doesn't feel like a joke at all. It's as if you've done it before."
'He's quick-witted.'
In fact, Yuder had experienced similar events several times in his previous life. However, he could not reveal that fact and hence maintained his silence.
"Well, look. Even the assistant admitted I did well."
Fortunately, Kishiar, with a brazen face, intervened and changed the atmosphere. Yuder stepped back and watched as Kishiar and Nathan resumed their conversation.
The admiration he felt for Kishiar, who he thought had a more impressive predictive power than he did, having seen the future, had now faded. But in its place, his thoughts lingered on the casual remark that had just been made.
'A chance to show off my abilities in front of an assistant who admires me...'
A peculiar part of his heart felt agitated. Anyone might feel this way, but he hadn't expected Kishiar to say such a thing. He was equally surprised by the considerably harsher than usual response to the impudent request, something he hadn't anticipated.
To be able to see the genuine emotions of a man, who was normally difficult to comprehend, felt strangely new.
His serious mood due to letters from the Tain Ducal House and Ejain had significantly improved. Feeling lighter, Yuder waited for Kishiar's conversation to subside before asking a question.
"So, Commander, do you intend to accept all the requests written in these letters?"
"I'll have to talk to both, but probably so."
Kishiar answered without hesitation.
"I've felt the need to send the Cavalry and tidy up the western border even without collaborating with the Tain Duchy. It'd be better if we could discreetly deal with Second Prince Nelarn along the way."
"..."
It was perfect. Just the answer Yuder had imagined.
If Kishiar hadn't been so worried about the monsters appearing in the western territories, his hesitation about how to persuade him would have seemed foolish.
"Are you worried about facing a terrifying monster?"
"Why would I be?"
Yuder glanced down at his gloved hand and smiled coldly.
"...I'm looking forward to it immensely."
—---
Two men stood in front of the Regien Tower, faces deeply hidden under pilgrim hats, wearing the clothes of priests who serve the sun god. Several knights solemnly stood their ground in front of the tower, protected by magic to imprison nobles with exceptional abilities.
"Good day. I am here to see Mr. Bertrail..."
As one of the priests approached the knights and began to speak, all eyes turned toward them.
"Are you the priests who have come to offer the final prayers?"
"Yes."
"Show me proof that you have come from the temple."
At the knight's words, the shorter priest hastily took out a holy symbol and a scripture from his bag. His hands trembled slightly, but the knight didn't notice. With a solemn face, he merely nodded and gestured toward the interior.
"Please enter."
The tower gate opened. The two priests followed the knight's guidance, climbing the stairs to the topmost floor of the tower. The taller priest followed the knight well, but the shorter one's pace slowed considerably after climbing a few floors.
"My apologies. May I carry my company?"
"Ah... Please do."
The knight thought the taller of the priests had a surprisingly vigorous strength for a cleric. Only after they had walked to the point of exhaustion did they finally reach a door. It took seven turns of the magical key to unlock the rusted locks and push the door open.
Although the room was as worn as any typical noble's quarters, it was filled with the stench of death. The ragged breath of a man, teetering on the brink of death, echoed from the bed placed beside the window. The priests approached the bedside and looked down at the man lying there.
The only prisoner trapped in this place, Bertrail Shand Apeto, lay there with his eyes half-open, his body emaciated and shriveled to the point that his former appearance was barely recognizable. His clouded, milk-white eyes flickered restlessly, reaching into the empty air as if possessed by a demon. His lips, nearly devoid of teeth, mumbled something incoherent.
Thinking the priests were stunned into silence, the knight who had led them offered consolation.
"It was said that the poison is the cause of this transformation, not possession by a demon. His mind has merely gone."
"...I see."
The taller of the two priests muttered under his breath.
"If the priests are worried, I'll stay here."
"No, we appreciate your offer, but it is tradition that no one other than family should accompany during the final prayer. If anything happens during the prayer, we will call for you, knight."
"Very well. I'll be outside the door. Call me immediately if you need me."
Well, whether a man about to die would be able to hear the prayer, he can't say for sure. With a glance of disinterest at Bertrail, the knight turned and left.
The priests stood still until they heard the door close. A few moments later, the shorter man removed his pilgrim's hat, revealing his face before letting out a sigh.
Surprisingly, he was a young man from the South, with the distinctive deep red skin of his people.
"...Young Master. Is it really necessary to go this far? This man has already been punished. He'll die soon without us doing anything."
"Hosanna. If you were going to complain, you should have stayed behind."
"But..."
"The true punishment does not end with death, you should know that."
The taller man let out a cold laugh.
"I resolved to kill the culprit with my own hands, but I didn't succeed then. Now it's time to finish what I started. He must not die in peace, listening to prayers, not for the sake of our dying brothers."
"…Still, if those outside discover who we are."
"They didn't even notice you walking with prosthetics thanks to my abilities. Why worry now?"
The eyes of the young man called Hosanna darkened. His gaze turned to the prosthetic leg hidden beneath his priestly robes.
"…I apologize for the inconvenience of carrying me."
The taller man clicked his tongue at the crestfallen Hosanna.
"I'm tired of hearing that. If you can't watch, turn around. It will be over soon."
Leaving Hosanna behind, the taller man approached the front of the bed. He knelt down as if about to pray devoutly and removed his pilgrim's hat.
"Bertrail Shand Apeto. Look at me."
The moment the face, half-covered with a dreadful scar, was revealed, Bertrail's eyes, previously aimlessly fluttering, widened as if torn apart.
"Are you coming to your senses after all this time?"
"Hu, hu, help, you, you're......!"
"I am the Reaper, here to harvest your life."
"Sa, save... there, no, no one......!"
"For our brothers, you cannot die peacefully."
With his icy retort, the man extended a hand to grasp Bertrail's face. Despite Bertrail's desperate thrashing and screams, the noises from his throat, now on the cusp of death, were pathetically weak.
"Ahh, no...!"
Moments later, a dim light flowed from the man's hand. A terrible convulsion, its sound unable to manifest, continued. Avoiding the sight, Hosanna, with a voice stricken with fear, cautiously asked.
"...What happens to him now?"
"He will perceive the last few minutes before his death as hundreds of years. And during those hundreds of years, he will burn alone in the fires of hell, screaming in agony as his body is torn apart."
As he said, a few minutes later Bertrail's spasms ceased. As the man removed his hand from the head he was holding, the hair, which had gone stark white within minutes as if aged by hundreds of years, began to fall out onto the sheets. His shriveled face was frozen in a grotesque mask of pain, mouth agape in a terrible expression.
"Is he dead?"
"Yes."
The man stood up from his place, casting a scornful look at Bertrail's corpse as he muttered.
"Even this was too peaceful an end for him."
"..."
"Let's go, Hosanna. We have to finish what the sage asked us to do."
"Just that? What about Gayle and Doyle..."
"Yes. We'll look for those two you're so concerned about."
In the middle of speaking, the man furrowed his brow, turning his head to look out of the heavy window.
"...It seems like someone is coming."
"Eh?"
No sooner had Hosanna questioned, a rough shout accompanied by the sound of horse hooves could be heard from outside. The man, listening to the noise, lifted a corner of his mouth, muttering.
"Seems we found the real priests who were supposed to be here sooner than expected. It won't be easy to leave without a trace. We'll have to escape using your power."
Hosanna's surprised expression quickly froze over.
"Understood. Give me your hand......"
Moments later, the knights who had rushed to the top of the tower unlocked the seven padlocks and kicked the door open to enter.
"Stay still, you charlatans! State your identities now...! Huh?"
"There's no one inside!"
"Magic and magic tools are unusable here, how could they possibly...!"
"Search the area thoroughly!"
As the confused knights scoured the narrow interior of the tower, the corpse on the bed continued to lie coldly like garbage, growing colder still.
Even amidst his busy schedule, he had consistently examined the situation in the West, all based on a tiny suspicion embedded within the rude letter. It was a skill beyond admiration, enough to send chills down his spine. Yuder blinked blankly for a moment before he managed to open his mouth.
"That's... really impressive."
"Impressive, what nonsense. I merely gave the orders. The loyal knights carried out the task."
"Are you saying that Sir Aile wouldn't believe it was real? Please clarify the whole process."
Suddenly, Nathan Zuckerman, who had been standing near Kishiar, interjected. Kishiar's previously laughing face subtly changed. Yuder, puzzled, turned to look at Nathan.
"What do you mean?"
"It's true that you dispatched our Peletta Knights to verify the truth of the contents of the request letter. But after you grasped the dark intentions of the local lord there, you didn't order an immediate return. Instead, you sent more people, not just because of the monsters that had appeared out of season…"
"Oh, Nathan, that's enough."
Kishiar interrupted Nathan's words. However, Yuder seemed to understand the rest of the cut-off sentence.
"Did you order them to sit there helplessly as a form of protest?"
"Something like that."
"It wasn't that direct, though."
Kishiar sighed, resignedly answering.
"Monsters are often referred to as a curse of the god, aren't they? If they really appeared at this time, it looked certain that it was the lord's fault, so I just asked them to stay and observe. It turned out that he was indeed extremely immoral."
"Thanks to that, the lord there is about to be anonymously reported with the evidence we collected and is scheduled to be tried in the capital. The unusual movement of the monsters compared to previous years was an incidental discovery, so we could say it was a secondary harvest."
Nathan spoke curtly. Kishiar narrowed his eyes and smiled contentedly.
"It's like we did some advance research."
"Do you know how hard it was for the rest of us knights, including myself, to deal with the absence of several people chasing after that swine during this busy time?"
It was only then that Yuder understood why the usually stoic knight had responded to his lord's words.
'So that's what it was.'
If they had to deal with reduced staff during the busy festival period due to an inconceivable reason, anyone would have been upset.
"You've ruined my chance to show off my skills in front of my respectful assistant because of you, Nathan. The momentum's gone."
"Sir Aile should also know the truth, shouldn't he?"
"If this issue causes my assistant to lose respect for me, you'll be responsible."
"… I believe you made a reasonable choice, sir."
At Yuder's response, Nathan and Kishiar simultaneously turned to look at him.
"Do you mean that sincerely, Sir Aile?"
"Yes."
"Do you mean you would have done the same?"
"Well, I'm not sure. If I had the authority to punish the fake request, I might have personally overturned their entire living area into a field."
Compared to that, how humane and rational was it to find evidence of immorality and hand it over for trial?
Nathan Zuckerman held his silence for a moment. Kishiar, who had opened his eyes slightly wider, burst into laughter. A knight's gaze, seeming to scrutinize Yuder's mind, swept over his face.
"...When Sir Aile speaks like that, it doesn't feel like a joke at all. It's as if you've done it before."
'He's quick-witted.'
In fact, Yuder had experienced similar events several times in his previous life. However, he could not reveal that fact and hence maintained his silence.
"Well, look. Even the assistant admitted I did well."
Fortunately, Kishiar, with a brazen face, intervened and changed the atmosphere. Yuder stepped back and watched as Kishiar and Nathan resumed their conversation.
The admiration he felt for Kishiar, who he thought had a more impressive predictive power than he did, having seen the future, had now faded. But in its place, his thoughts lingered on the casual remark that had just been made.
'A chance to show off my abilities in front of an assistant who admires me...'
A peculiar part of his heart felt agitated. Anyone might feel this way, but he hadn't expected Kishiar to say such a thing. He was equally surprised by the considerably harsher than usual response to the impudent request, something he hadn't anticipated.
To be able to see the genuine emotions of a man, who was normally difficult to comprehend, felt strangely new.
His serious mood due to letters from the Tain Ducal House and Ejain had significantly improved. Feeling lighter, Yuder waited for Kishiar's conversation to subside before asking a question.
"So, Commander, do you intend to accept all the requests written in these letters?"
"I'll have to talk to both, but probably so."
Kishiar answered without hesitation.
"I've felt the need to send the Cavalry and tidy up the western border even without collaborating with the Tain Duchy. It'd be better if we could discreetly deal with Second Prince Nelarn along the way."
"..."
It was perfect. Just the answer Yuder had imagined.
If Kishiar hadn't been so worried about the monsters appearing in the western territories, his hesitation about how to persuade him would have seemed foolish.
"Are you worried about facing a terrifying monster?"
"Why would I be?"
Yuder glanced down at his gloved hand and smiled coldly.
"...I'm looking forward to it immensely."
—---
Two men stood in front of the Regien Tower, faces deeply hidden under pilgrim hats, wearing the clothes of priests who serve the sun god. Several knights solemnly stood their ground in front of the tower, protected by magic to imprison nobles with exceptional abilities.
"Good day. I am here to see Mr. Bertrail..."
As one of the priests approached the knights and began to speak, all eyes turned toward them.
"Are you the priests who have come to offer the final prayers?"
"Yes."
"Show me proof that you have come from the temple."
At the knight's words, the shorter priest hastily took out a holy symbol and a scripture from his bag. His hands trembled slightly, but the knight didn't notice. With a solemn face, he merely nodded and gestured toward the interior.
"Please enter."
The tower gate opened. The two priests followed the knight's guidance, climbing the stairs to the topmost floor of the tower. The taller priest followed the knight well, but the shorter one's pace slowed considerably after climbing a few floors.
"My apologies. May I carry my company?"
"Ah... Please do."
The knight thought the taller of the priests had a surprisingly vigorous strength for a cleric. Only after they had walked to the point of exhaustion did they finally reach a door. It took seven turns of the magical key to unlock the rusted locks and push the door open.
Although the room was as worn as any typical noble's quarters, it was filled with the stench of death. The ragged breath of a man, teetering on the brink of death, echoed from the bed placed beside the window. The priests approached the bedside and looked down at the man lying there.
The only prisoner trapped in this place, Bertrail Shand Apeto, lay there with his eyes half-open, his body emaciated and shriveled to the point that his former appearance was barely recognizable. His clouded, milk-white eyes flickered restlessly, reaching into the empty air as if possessed by a demon. His lips, nearly devoid of teeth, mumbled something incoherent.
Thinking the priests were stunned into silence, the knight who had led them offered consolation.
"It was said that the poison is the cause of this transformation, not possession by a demon. His mind has merely gone."
"...I see."
The taller of the two priests muttered under his breath.
"If the priests are worried, I'll stay here."
"No, we appreciate your offer, but it is tradition that no one other than family should accompany during the final prayer. If anything happens during the prayer, we will call for you, knight."
"Very well. I'll be outside the door. Call me immediately if you need me."
Well, whether a man about to die would be able to hear the prayer, he can't say for sure. With a glance of disinterest at Bertrail, the knight turned and left.
The priests stood still until they heard the door close. A few moments later, the shorter man removed his pilgrim's hat, revealing his face before letting out a sigh.
Surprisingly, he was a young man from the South, with the distinctive deep red skin of his people.
"...Young Master. Is it really necessary to go this far? This man has already been punished. He'll die soon without us doing anything."
"Hosanna. If you were going to complain, you should have stayed behind."
"But..."
"The true punishment does not end with death, you should know that."
The taller man let out a cold laugh.
"I resolved to kill the culprit with my own hands, but I didn't succeed then. Now it's time to finish what I started. He must not die in peace, listening to prayers, not for the sake of our dying brothers."
"…Still, if those outside discover who we are."
"They didn't even notice you walking with prosthetics thanks to my abilities. Why worry now?"
The eyes of the young man called Hosanna darkened. His gaze turned to the prosthetic leg hidden beneath his priestly robes.
"…I apologize for the inconvenience of carrying me."
The taller man clicked his tongue at the crestfallen Hosanna.
"I'm tired of hearing that. If you can't watch, turn around. It will be over soon."
Leaving Hosanna behind, the taller man approached the front of the bed. He knelt down as if about to pray devoutly and removed his pilgrim's hat.
"Bertrail Shand Apeto. Look at me."
The moment the face, half-covered with a dreadful scar, was revealed, Bertrail's eyes, previously aimlessly fluttering, widened as if torn apart.
"Are you coming to your senses after all this time?"
"Hu, hu, help, you, you're......!"
"I am the Reaper, here to harvest your life."
"Sa, save... there, no, no one......!"
"For our brothers, you cannot die peacefully."
With his icy retort, the man extended a hand to grasp Bertrail's face. Despite Bertrail's desperate thrashing and screams, the noises from his throat, now on the cusp of death, were pathetically weak.
"Ahh, no...!"
Moments later, a dim light flowed from the man's hand. A terrible convulsion, its sound unable to manifest, continued. Avoiding the sight, Hosanna, with a voice stricken with fear, cautiously asked.
"...What happens to him now?"
"He will perceive the last few minutes before his death as hundreds of years. And during those hundreds of years, he will burn alone in the fires of hell, screaming in agony as his body is torn apart."
As he said, a few minutes later Bertrail's spasms ceased. As the man removed his hand from the head he was holding, the hair, which had gone stark white within minutes as if aged by hundreds of years, began to fall out onto the sheets. His shriveled face was frozen in a grotesque mask of pain, mouth agape in a terrible expression.
"Is he dead?"
"Yes."
The man stood up from his place, casting a scornful look at Bertrail's corpse as he muttered.
"Even this was too peaceful an end for him."
"..."
"Let's go, Hosanna. We have to finish what the sage asked us to do."
"Just that? What about Gayle and Doyle..."
"Yes. We'll look for those two you're so concerned about."
In the middle of speaking, the man furrowed his brow, turning his head to look out of the heavy window.
"...It seems like someone is coming."
"Eh?"
No sooner had Hosanna questioned, a rough shout accompanied by the sound of horse hooves could be heard from outside. The man, listening to the noise, lifted a corner of his mouth, muttering.
"Seems we found the real priests who were supposed to be here sooner than expected. It won't be easy to leave without a trace. We'll have to escape using your power."
Hosanna's surprised expression quickly froze over.
"Understood. Give me your hand......"
Moments later, the knights who had rushed to the top of the tower unlocked the seven padlocks and kicked the door open to enter.
"Stay still, you charlatans! State your identities now...! Huh?"
"There's no one inside!"
"Magic and magic tools are unusable here, how could they possibly...!"
"Search the area thoroughly!"
As the confused knights scoured the narrow interior of the tower, the corpse on the bed continued to lie coldly like garbage, growing colder still.
