The Weight of Sin
The Saint Arthur Church stood as the headquarters of the Highland Clerics' Inquisitors. Located in Hamong—the quietest city in the entire Holy Kingdom—the place was already in an uproar this morning over its early visitor.
“Hwaaam… What brings you here?”
Silvestina let out a long, lazy yawn as she eyed the guest who had come to see her.
“I delivered the message properly.”
Seeing him arrive in plain priestly robes, it looked like he was traveling under the identity of an ordinary cleric. In that case, treating him accordingly was only right. With that thought, she addressed the man before her with casual ease. Henri accepted the familiar treatment without batting an eye.
“I know. You wouldn’t slip up.”
Henri stroked the pigeon that had just returned and asked, “So, how are those two?”
He was that wary—of Jenkinson returning to his family.
“Huh? Oh, you mean that giant from Yura? Couldn’t check. Spying on a fancy inn is a bit much for our Gugu here.”
Silvestina answered as if it were nothing important. Their attempt to investigate the pair’s relationship had failed. High-class inns had tight security; they weren’t exactly pigeon-friendly.
“Are you worried they’ll hook up? Young people having a casual fling for one night is pretty common, isn’t it? Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
Silvestina wasn’t particularly concerned. They were still young. Better to rack up some experiences than end up like her—dying an old virgin after a lifetime of celibacy. That was how she saw it. Sadly, she had already given up on shedding her single status once the first digit of her age rolled past three.
“To be precise, our church fears losing a capable servant of God named Jenkinson… though the other side might find that prospect even more terrifying.”
Henri sat down as he spoke. In truth, what he feared most was losing the talented priest Jenkinson… but he readily admitted that, from another perspective, the union of those two families could pose a greater threat.
Silvestina scattered feed for the birds that had flocked around her and asked, “So why Yoqheim of all places?”
It was nothing but cold and sparsely populated. Honestly, it didn’t seem like a suitable place to spread the faith. That was her take, but—
“Because people live there too.”
Yet Henri believed that even those in such remote lands were entitled to God’s love. Because God was fair, everyone—wherever they were—should equally receive divine love and mercy. That was what he believed.
In that sense…
“I simply chose the most trustworthy Inquisitor.”
Henri had merely selected the strongest and most outstanding Inquisitor he could rely on. Silvestina nodded at his words. True enough, it would be unwise to send any other Inquisitor to a place that dangerous. Yoqheim was literally a lawless country where might made right—a nation born from criminals, the dregs pushed out by society, and the defeated who had been cast aside.
“…Since you said the most trustworthy Inquisitor, let me ask. Does that include me?”
Silvestina asked half in hope. Henri didn’t answer. He simply looked at her with a gentle, amiable smile.
“Well? The answer?”
That smile only made her more anxious, so she pressed him. Henri finally spoke.
“Now that you mention it, I hear Archbishop Hermann is heading to Rucella this time. Seems information about devils has come in from there.”
At the blatant subject change, Silvestina pouted, feeling she had already received her answer. No matter how old she got… in that regard she was still like a child. Thinking so, Henri kept stroking Gugu without the slightest intention of soothing her temper. After all, there wasn’t much she could do even if she got angry.
—
I rode the train for a long time. How long had the journey been? By the time I was thoroughly sick of the inside of the carriage, I arrived at Billington—the city situated right before entering Yoqheim.
Unfortunately, no train ran all the way to Yoqheim, but that was only natural. Yoqheim was a lawless country. It was such a hazardous zone that even Rumel had found it impossible to lay tracks there. A place so horrific that people said if you closed your eyes your organs would be ripped out, and pickpockets would chop off your hand to steal your money.
Murder, theft, rape, and arson were everyday occurrences there.
Even the public order in this Billington was abysmal. I could tell that much just by looking at the thugs sprawled in front of me right now.
Flick. Flick.
With that thought, I shook the thugs’ blood from my hands.
To get into a fight the moment I arrived… I had expected trouble, but not this violently.
“S-sorry…”
Crack!
“…You’re noisy.”
Well, I hadn’t killed them. Even if I left them alive they were trash who only knew how to hurt others… but that alone wasn’t reason enough to execute them. In that sense, black priestly robes were convenient. Blood splatter barely showed.
Thinking that, I left the back alley where they had dragged me.
The weather in Billington was freezing. So cold that my outfit looked like the coldest thing on the street. People’s eyes naturally turned my way. I accepted their stares with indifference.
Heading straight to the highlands like this would be impossible.
To reach Yoqheim from here, I had to cross the highlands that Billington boasted of. Only after passing through this region—one of the continent’s foremost wheat-producing areas—could I finally arrive in Yoqheim.
For today I would stay here and cross the highlands tomorrow.
Jingle.
“…”
The innkeeper glanced at me as I opened the door and stepped inside, then lightly pointed at the menu board. It was a rundown inn. The floor was damp and a musty stench filled the air. As I approached the owner I caught the faint metallic tang of blood.
“I’d like to stay one night.”
At my words the taciturn-looking man pulled out a piece of paper and began scribbling.
One night is 1 gold coin.
Honestly… an absurdly high price. But given the special nature of this place, it was an understandable rate. The area was that rough and dangerous.
Thud.
When I took out one gold coin and set it down, he examined it carefully before writing on the paper again.
Room is upstairs. 201.
I nodded at him as he handed over the key and headed upstairs to unpack. Dried blood clung to the key, and the stairs creaked with an unpleasant groan. Even the door to my room had ugly black blood caked on it.
Creak.
The room contained nothing but a single bed. The sheets were filthy and a strange odor hung thick in the air. But… honestly, I didn’t need anything more than this anyway.
I looked outside through the lone window set in the wall and checked the sky.
Snow will fall soon.
The heavens looked ready to unleash a brutal blizzard. Still, I went back downstairs to eat.
“I’d like to order a meal—”
“Hey, priest. Looks like you were real gentle with our boys, huh?”
I stopped on the stairs. A group of hulking men who looked like they had been waiting for me stood there, while the innkeeper sat indifferently despite seeing them. I immediately understood the situation. This inn had belonged to them from the start. The faint but terrible scent of blood I had noticed on the owner now made sense. They must have been ambushing guests, killing them, and stealing their belongings.
“I thought you should be grateful I ended it that lightly.”
I really had intended to let it end there, but—
“Nice face. Wonder what the insides look like. Organs from the pretty ones sell well, you know.”
The moment I heard those words I could no longer let it slide. They were revealing the full weight of their sins through their own mouths and actions.
“…Looks like dinner will have to be rough.”
Would any decent ingredients even remain in a trash heap of an inn like this? With that thought I slowly descended the stairs.
“What?”
Seeing his puzzled expression, I reached the bottom and scanned the room. Ten including the big one. No—eleven? As expected of a city right next to the lawless country; their crimes were particularly vile.
With that assessment I first grabbed the innkeeper’s head.
“!”
He seemed startled by the sudden grip, but he wasn’t a fool. He had to know he was their accomplice.
Crack! Crunch!
I drove my fingers into his skull and crushed it while he stared in shock, then lightly flicked the blood and brain matter from my hand. Turning to the thugs of this city who now wore expressions of pure horror, I spoke.
Why are you surprised? You pieces of society’s garbage who have seen human corpses and organs until you were sick of them.
Without hiding my contempt, I declared,
“You’re next.”
To the men trembling and pissing themselves, I spoke coldly. They had better abandon any thought of escape. They had already shown their sins before my eyes. They had placed the weight of those sins upon God’s scales. A servant of God had no intention of overlooking it.