An Ill-Fated Encounter (3)
The Elf wondered what words Bishop Leviham standing before her would utter next.
'Hurry up and make your excuses. Just like your kind did in the old days.'
The Elf didn't like humans. It wouldn't even be wrong to say she despised them. No matter how armored they were in good intentions, peering inside revealed nothing but self-deception and hypocrisy. Every war to date had been sparked by humans, with murder, plunder, violence, abuse, desire, and greed plastered onto human society as if they were the most natural things in the world. That was why humans were an untrustworthy race. Give them affection, and they'd exploit it; fulfill their ideals, and they'd demand even loftier ones. They hated being ruled yet loved ruling others more than anyone—a species utterly devoured by selfishness and mired in contradiction.
And among them, the most repulsive were none other than the priests.
─Punish the witches who toy with human hearts and collude with demons, in the name of God!
The Elf remembered it well. Not so long ago, those who claimed to believe in God had unleashed a horrific massacre and madness in the name of God. Innocent witches had been hacked to pieces by the blades of inquisitors. Even those who weren't witches were branded as such the moment they fell afoul of the church and met their end. An era of screams and spurting blood. Yet no one raised objections in that mad world. Hell itself had unfolded right there in the empire.
Unable to bear witness any longer, the Elf had hidden her identity and appealed to the church's higher-ups, stirring their emotions. She had delivered a passionate speech laced with reason. Stop this inhumanity at once. Witches don't toy with human hearts or collude with demons. This is all a tragedy born of misunderstanding.
But the church's lofty humans turned a deaf ear. Instead, they flew into a rage and pressed her.
─Do you intend to deny this document too? It's clearly recorded here that Grand Duke Eligos of the Proud Hell has colluded with witches to attack the empire! And it's stamped with the seal of the great demon Baal—no room for doubt!
The "document beyond doubt" was a demonic missive of unclear origin. Its origin was murky, so the facts couldn't be verified; the facts couldn't be verified, so the true intent remained hidden. Yet the church refused to reconsider. Only then did the Elf realize: the church had never wanted the truth to begin with. They were fixated solely on the windfall benefits of uniting the masses and stoking fury against the demon realm.
It probably wasn't decided within the church alone. The imperial family, along with countless political figures spawned from it and wealthy merchants, must have been entangled like a spider's web in the "witch hunts."
─So don't interfere! Keep your lying tongue in check! The God of Light wills it! We shall carry out His will and exterminate the witches infesting our sacred empire!
As the high priests shouted in God's name, madness spread through the empire like a plague. Witches, guilty of no crime, confessed falsely just to survive—only to die for being witches. Even those who had lived aiding humans were slain by the very people they'd helped. As denunciations proliferated, bounty hunters specializing in witches gained power. Farmers who tilled fields by day roamed with pitchforks at night; knights earned medals for every witch they killed.
If this continued, witches would be wiped out across the empire. Driven to the brink, they had no choice but to flee to the seven hells of the demon realm. Just as all witches awaited death in gloom, a young witch rallied those who remained.
─You idiots! What the hell are you doing? You wanna die like this? I don't wanna die feeling empty! I didn't become a witch just to vanish like this! I wanna live!
The girl, who called herself Dremes, insisted they fight back with bold action. Countless witches agreed with Dremes and rose up. The Elf felt the same. She wanted to help these pitiful children struggling against injustice, fighting to survive.
─I wanna meet a hot guy and have him pop my cherry, not get my gut skewered by some church bastard's spear! Why should I die? Why should you? We didn't do shit wrong, fuck! Right!?
The longer Dremes ranted, the more witches resolved never to suffer the empire's pervasive hatred again. Thus, a massive civil war erupted in the empire. Witches terrorized church branches with unique spells they'd developed themselves and sacrificed humans hunting them to fuel black magic rituals. Dissatisfied folk harboring grudges against the church and mercenaries smelling profit joined their side, sparking localized battles across the land. The dying embers met fresh logs and roared to life.
Unable to maintain one-sided oppression, the church sought imperial aid—but the response from the palace ran directly counter to their wishes.
─Wasn't this mess you started in the first place? Don't shift blame to the crown.
For the centralizing imperial family, a weakened church was a dream come true. No need to side with them and bear the costs. Sensing crisis, the church ultimately compromised with the witches. In the famous Walpurgis Night, they recognized each other's freedoms and witches' rights on a national scale transcending religion.
Decades had passed since then, but the Elf—with her superior racial memory—still vividly recalled it all as if it were yesterday whenever she closed her eyes. That was why priestly robes filled her with instinctive revulsion. She'd been appalled when an inquisitor visited the mansion before; now a bishop had come and was up to all sorts of nonsense. She wanted to snap his neck but barely held back. This priest was, after all, Theorad's "guest."
'Killing a guest isn't proper for a slave.'
She didn't want to trouble Theorad. More precisely, she didn't want to break her toy. She hadn't even properly enjoyed her playtime yet, nor confirmed if the words of the old Theorad were sincere. For now, a simple threat would do. To keep the priest from entertaining dangerous thoughts.
"Did you perhaps mistake the study for the restroom and wander in by accident?"
Leviham snapped back to his senses at the Elf's softened tone, realizing she wouldn't harm him.
"Mistake...?"
But a mistake? It sounded like she'd overlook it this once if he lied. Unsettling, yet he had no other choice. If this Elf told Theorad the truth, his position would be precarious. Leviham looked up with a calm smile.
"You're right. It's been so long since I visited the mansion; I must have mixed up the restroom's location."
"Hmm. Then why didn't you say you'd figure it out when Master assigned a servant to guide you?"
"Haha, my apologies. I overtrusted my memory."
"Can't be helped, then. I'll guide you to the restroom, so follow me."
The Elf turned and walked out, her silver hair cascading to her waist rippling softly with each clicking heel step.
"Ah."
She suddenly halted as if something had just occurred to her, turning her head to fix Leviham with a cold glare.
"In the future, please refrain from rash actions inside the mansion. Master hates anyone discovering his hobbies."
Master's hobbies. Leviham pondered her words before replying as graciously as possible.
"Understood. I'll keep that in mind."
*
The black tea had gone completely cold. No warmth lingered even when he placed a hand over the cup. The chocolate was starting to melt too, which was a problem.
'When the hell is he coming back?'
Both had gone to the restroom and taken far too long. Constipated or something? As he idly toyed with the cup, the opposite door suddenly opened. Seeing Leviham enter with the Elf, Theorad brightened and rose from his seat.
"Bishop! Did you resolve your business well?"
"Hiiing. Why don't you ask meee, Masterrr..."
He easily ignored the Elf's lisping whine from the side. Leviham glanced at her before speaking in a troubled tone.
"I handled my business fine, but whatever I ate must've been off—I'm not feeling great."
"Ah. In that case, I'll fetch some medicine from the mansion's stores."
Leviham waved it off as if it were nothing.
"No need for medicine. Just need to rest my eyes a bit. Might I borrow a room?"
"Ehhh... Can't you just go home, Bishop?"
It was the Elf again. Her irritated scowl was so fearsome it made Theorad flinch involuntarily. No matter what, you don't say that to a bishop! Panicking, he strode over and clamped a hand over the Elf's mouth.
"O-Of course it's fine. Ignore my slave and head to a guest room to rest."
"My thanks for your kindness. I'll impose briefly, then."
Leviham bowed to him and exited as if there was nothing more to discuss. The decisiveness bordered on rudeness.
'...Is he really just gonna sleep and leave?'
He'd never heard of a bishop overnighting at another house. Stunned for a moment, Theorad jolted at the warm, moist sensation on his palm and pulled his hand away. Sure enough, it was slick with saliva. She'd licked his palm with her tongue while muffled.
Honestly, it creeped him out a little.
"Unbelievable. Are you in heat or something?"
Looking down with disgust, the Elf lightly pressed against him. Her soft breasts squished against his shoulder, testing his composure. He couldn't fathom why she was acting this way—fear crept in.
"Master."
Calling his name with more affection than usual, the Elf drew his arm snugly to her bosom.
"Hasn't the time come to punish this vulgar sow who only knows how to guzzle her Master's cock-juice?"
Ah... so that's what this was about. But he hadn't even checked what the adult toy from the witch was yet. Diving into sexual torment blindly and failing to deliver proper humiliation could endanger his life. Yeah. No matter how he thought about it, delaying by a day was best.
"Don't be annoying. Whether I punish you and when are my decisions, not yours..."
The Elf's face hardened instantly. Killing intent seeped through her blank expression, making his shoulder twitch. It screamed that she'd never forgive him if he brushed this off again. Sensing danger, Theorad forced a natural smirk.
"...We'll start right now. Follow me up to the study."