The Knight Hates Rofan Events (6)
He had known for some time that someone was watching him, and that the gaze felt foul.
Even so, Lee Han had deliberately held off on catching them. Let on that he knew, and the one hiding out there would bolt.
Figures. Not half bad.
He looked the man over from where he had lain in wait among the trees—the one who had finally taken an axe through the gut—and gave a slow nod. Muscle and bone alone were enough to mark him as a considerable hand. Good thing he had played along. Otherwise the bastard would have run, no question.
"That man is—!"
"Someone you know?"
"…Sir Toner. A senior inquisitor who transferred into the Holy Knight Order. His skill isn't even in the same realm as mine. Why would a man like that be hiding? No—before that, how did you drop him in a single blow…?"
"So now we've got Holy Knights crawling out of the woodwork?"
Lee Han set his foot on the belly of the Holy Knight—Toner, or whatever his name was—and pressed down.
Crunch.
"AAAAAGH!"
A considerable fighter, all right. An axe had punched clean through his gut, and he still wasn't dead. Proof of a viciously stubborn life. Lee Han leaned in harder and ground the belly under his boot.
"Ghhh—s-stop, please, stop…!"
Toner had come back to himself and was begging, but Lee Han didn't even pretend to listen. Their script was obvious anyway. First the threat: the temple would not forgive this. If that failed, the bribe: they would make it worth his while, so he ought to cooperate. And when none of it worked…
"D-do you think the Light will forgive this!!"
"…God, I'm sick of this."
Out came the god's name, right on cue.
Lee Han was tired of dealing with lunatics of this sort. Why did they have to poke a man who only wanted to live quietly?
So.
"Timid."
"Yes?"
"Go get some people."
"Which people do you—?"
"The dark one, and the chick's dad."
"……."
"What?"
"…Nothing. I just realized the peace is over."
"The hell are you talking about?"
As if there had ever been any peace.
Not long after he sent word, people began gathering around Lee Han's house.
"Well met, Sir Lee Han."
The Galahad Shadows.
"A pleasure to meet you at last, Sir Turtle. I've heard a great deal. I regret that our first meeting should be under these circumstances."
A knight of Lionel.
The two strongest powers of the southern continent had assembled, and they set to the work in silence.
"Is that the worm who dared insult Galahad—and our young lady?"
"A mere temple, presuming—!"
"You will not die easy. No. I will teach you, and everyone tied to you, that there is a hell in this world as well…!"
From what he had heard, Galahad already nursed a deep grudge against the religious powers, and with Irene insulted the Shadows had gone completely feral. Anyone connected to that nameless priest was about to begin a life worse than death.
"We've had questions for the temple for some time. How convenient, that we may put them now."
"Don't handle them too roughly. The young master said to bring them back alive, no exceptions."
"True enough. Still, they might try to run, so we'll take the arms and legs before we go. Ah—Sir Turtle, don't concern yourself. We won't spill blood here."
Lionel didn't seem to bear the temple any particular grudge, only the air of men carrying out an order to the letter. Having no personal stake, they performed the task with a mechanical excellence that was almost admirable.
"Sir Lee Han, might we also take those inquisitors over there? They look like the sort who could turn on you at any moment. If possible, hand them to us."
"Wouldn't we be the better choice, rather than Galahad?"
"…Snowfield cats who don't know their place."
"Better than you scheming lot, you foal-spawn."
"……."
"Stop glaring and come at me. I'll take you whenever you like."
"…If you're going to fight, do it somewhere else."
Calling both factions at once had been a mistake after all. The staring contest was no joke, and Lee Han shrugged. Nobody was offering them a thing, and still they were at each other's throats. Unreal.
"S-sir, a-are you thinking of handing us over?"
"S-Sir Lee Han! P-please, we beg you! Don't give us to them!"
"We didn't know anything—!"
From the moment the knights of Galahad and Lionel arrived, the heresy inquisitors had gone pale and started shaking, as if they were sitting on a cushion of thorns. Now they were thrashing for their lives. If Lee Han truly handed them over, they might end up worse than dead, and so they clung to him—their one remaining lifeline.
"Anyone watching would think I was about to kill you. I spared you a minute ago, didn't I? I'm not particularly interested in killing you."
"Ah, Sir Lee Han!"
"…Well. That's assuming you're actually innocent."
"…Pardon?"
"Looks like he's here."
"??"
He jerked his chin straight ahead, but there was nothing where he pointed. What was supposed to have arrived?
"Ho ho. Impressive. You can read my presence now? Remarkable progress."
……Since when had he been standing there?
Eyes flew wide. It was as if a man had suddenly welled up out of ground that had held no presence at all—the feeling of being bewitched. And yet, even with every knight's gaze fixed on him, the old man in a butler's coat only smiled with endless kindness and strolled forward at his leisure.
"It's been a while, Butler."
"The pleasure is mine as well."
"…I didn't say I was pleased."
"Is pleasure not something one expresses with the eyes, rather than with words? I can feel it in yours, Sir Lee Han."
"Th-that isn't pleasure. It's fear and trembling, isn't it?"
"You've even learned to joke. Ho ho ho."
"…If you say so, Butler, then I suppose that's what it is."
Lee Han bowed with scrupulous courtesy and surrendered. He was the sort who minded his manners with his elders—monsters who barely counted as people excepted—but he was being even more polite than usual, and at some point a bead of sweat slid from between his brows. It kept coming, as if he were standing in the rain, and he didn't dare wipe it away. He only kept his head down.
……He hadn't understood before. Now that he had grown, even a little, he thought he did.
This man was truly—
He had already known it. Feeling the weight of that power for himself was another matter: a truth the whole body understood at once. Facing a creature that wore a human shape and was something else entirely, Lee Han panted. He hadn't even fought, and still he wondered how a man could be this exhausted. Keeping any stamina in reserve in front of this person was not easy. A few lines of conversation had left him as wrung out as five full marathons run back to back.
And to that Lee Han:
"You've grown too fast. That's why your senses and your stamina still divide the work so clumsily. Fix that one thing, and you'll breathe much easier."
The butler did not withhold the advice, and patted his shoulder as if to encourage him. Then he turned his gaze on the heresy inquisitors.
It was nothing like the gentle look he gave Lee Han. This one was cold, as if glass beads had been set into his eyes. The moment they met it, every inquisitor lost the power of speech. Not one of them moved his mouth.
…It was instinct. A living thing's instinct, warning that one must not defy the man in front of them.
And so—
"Come along. I'll show you the way."
He quietly told them to follow, and the heresy inquisitors—
Shuffle. Shuffle…
—did exactly as he said, together with the certainty that they must not disobey.
"If you're upright, and you speak only the truth, you probably won't die."
Lee Han nodded. Sending the letter had been the right call.
Except—
I didn't think the butler himself would come.
He had expected them to send someone. He had not expected that someone to be the butler, of all people.
"Albert. John Ray Albert…."
"S-Sir Lee Han, you're acquainted with him!?"
The knights recognized the butler—no, Albert—at once. Well, they weren't incompetent. They would have known he was a power they couldn't begin to measure. A Superhuman who went about in a butler's coat was famous in ways both open and quiet, and guessing his identity would not have been hard.
"We just happen to know each other's faces. That's all."
"From the way you spoke, you seemed close."
"That's not closeness. That's me flattening myself. Let me turn it around. Could you be rude to that old man?"
"…Of course not."
"Right? The man's a machine for injecting forced courtesy."
"C-calling him 'that old man'… you must be close after all."
"…It's a misunderstanding."
A useless misunderstanding seemed to have taken root, but he didn't bother denying it too hard.
More importantly—
Thanks to the butler, that pointless quarrel seems to have vanished. A blessing, maybe?
He had considered handing the Interns to Galahad or to Lionel, but dumping them all on one side risked a serious incident. Taking a particular house's part might have landed even him under suspicion. So he had pulled in the royal house—more precisely, his sister.
Sure enough, the moment word reached her she sent people at once, and because of it the two houses had dropped their useless staring contest.
Except—
I've got a bad feeling I'm picking up a different misunderstanding.
He could see them looking back and forth between him and Albert, faces that said surely not. Misunderstandings were spawning in real time, and Lee Han swallowed a groan.
Maybe—
That woman. Did she set this whole thing up?
He had wondered why she sent the butler of all people. Perhaps the princess meant it as a warning to the other powers.
He could almost hear the words, and a bitter smile was all he managed. So this was what a needless misunderstanding felt like.
"Haa…."
"A sigh. Excellent. They say breathing out like that is good for the mind. I recommend you do it often."
"…Don't they say it chases your luck away, so you shouldn't?"
"And why would luck run?"
"……It was nonsense."
"Hmm?"
Albert still wore that smiling face no one could read. Ask him anything and he would probably answer, Lee Han felt, but the answer would only ever come back vague.
So.
"I'll see you later. I'll buy a decent wine and stop by. We'll have a glass then."
"Oh? A drink with Sir Lee Han. I'm looking forward to it already."
Albert showed a plain anticipation at the offer, and something almost cheerful seemed to come off him. For the first time he looked as if he were showing a true feeling, and for a moment he simply regarded Lee Han.
Then, abruptly—
"…I had meant only to see your face and go. But I'll leave you with one amusing story."
"A-amusing?"
"Yes. Nothing less than the reason the temple has suddenly gone mad, and why it has laid hands on Lady Irene."
"……?"
…They weren't just rampaging to grab power?
Lee Han blinked at the unexpected turn, and Albert went on.
"Lady Irene Windler appears to be the most likely Saint candidate. And so the temple seems quite determined to abduct the girl, or to win her over. Ho ho."
"?"
"An amusing business. Of course, if they can get a Saint in hand, a Pope-King is hardly the issue. With a Saint, the temple could once again use the name of Pope—the one the Martial God took from them. I imagine quite a few people will be aiming for the young lady for a while. Truly interesting."
"??"
"Still, don't worry. If anyone truly tries to cross the line, I will pay the temple a visit. Ho ho."
"……."
…Lee Han knew it was rude, but he couldn't manage a response of any kind. He had simply lost every word he might have said.
And no wonder.
Wh-who did he say?
…A Saint?
That hopeless washout—?
"……."
His gaze slid aside.
Lee Han's eyes, keen enough to rival a man of the grasslands, turned toward the house next door.
"That thing is… a Saint? A candidate?"
Out in the yard, spying on his house through a telescope and grinning a vacant, foolish grin, stood a yellow chick. And Lee Han's distrust of the temple only deepened.