The Lawless Threshold
The highland priest spoke while wearing a slightly loose shirt and pants. "Thank you for the clothes, Brother Makel. They fit quite well, fortunately." Makel felt both pleased and apologetic at those words. "I'm sorry. There weren't any clothes that suited the priest properly."
Contrary to Jenkinson's statement, Makel had been unable to find anything that fit him at all. Jenkinson shook his head at the apology. "No need to apologize. This is more than enough to wear." Honestly, simply receiving the clothes had already been a considerable kindness. Because of that, Jenkinson brought up one question that had been bothering him here.
"More importantly, there doesn't seem to be a church in this highland." Jenkinson voiced his doubt. The Order of Charity was the most powerful denomination on the continent. They had even taken root in Yoqheim, the land of outlaws, to the point of having churches there. Yet... he couldn't find a single church in Billington. That fact weighed heavily on Jenkinson's mind. Even small villages usually had at least a modest chapel.
"That's correct. It must be difficult to build one because of the highland terrain. I believe the group in the city destroyed it." Jenkinson nodded. If that was the reason, then it wasn't a major issue. "There will be a church here soon enough."
If those groups had been the problem, a church would soon return. He had eliminated them all and sent his report, so the main church would dispatch people before long. When that happened, priests would once again walk this highland. Thinking so, Jenkinson smiled—until a voice suddenly spoke.
[True enough, but... you'd do well not to forget your duties.]
"Whoa!" Makel jumped in surprise at the talking eagle that had appeared out of nowhere, but Jenkinson remained calm. He already knew someone capable of such feats. "Were you listening in?"
At Jenkinson's question, Silvestina answered with a grumble. [More like scouting locations for the church. This wasn't supposed to be my job, but some overly diligent subordinate turned it into one.]
Jenkinson reassured the still-startled Makel. "She's a high-ranking figure in the church. Nothing to worry about." [Brother Makel, this is Bishop Silvestina. She's not a bad person, so there's no need to be on guard...]
Even so, watching Bishop Silvestina attempt to speak like a proper priest in front of others made Jenkinson think it was already too late. But now he had something else to worry about.
"B-Bishop..." Makel collapsed on the spot at the mention of such an exalted title. Jenkinson caught him carefully and smiled. "That had the opposite effect, didn't it?" Perhaps a bishop was simply too overwhelming for a farmer in this remote place. Jenkinson asked slyly, and Silvestina muttered in a flustered voice, clearly not having expected this reaction.
[...What's the big deal about a bishop. Anyway, head to Yoqheim tomorrow without fail. Those friends are waiting.]
After one last scolding, Silvestina tapped Jenkinson's head with the eagle's beak. [You're not traveling alone anymore, are you?]
With those words, the eagle flew off into the distance. Jenkinson rubbed his head and muttered, "...You're right. I do have two burdens now." He let out a small sigh. If he tried to be clever about this any further, things would likely get complicated.
--
Fwoosh! The blade traced a clean arc before returning, blood spraying in its wake. The man sheathed his sword with casual indifference after cutting down his opponents. "Asa. Your side?"
Standing calmly amid the corpses he had created, he called out to Asa, who had been handling the opposite flank. "No problems here, but... they're still nothing special." She wiped the blood from her face, her complexion slightly pale as she surveyed the scattered bodies. Five on her side, six on Yusuba's. She counted them and trembled pitifully, unable to believe they had killed eleven people in a single day.
"Yoqheim... I'd only heard stories, but to this extent..." Asa muttered, completely disheartened. It was supposedly the city of outlaws, yet she hadn't expected them to charge even after learning they were holy knights. What surprised her more was the locals' attitude. 'They don't even care about the corpses.' Despite two people creating eleven bodies, the residents paid no attention. Instead, they rummaged through the dead, stealing belongings while snickering. It was abnormal. Asa felt nauseous at the sight, and even Yusuba was too shaken to crack a joke.
'When is the priest arriving?' Asa and Yusuba could only wait anxiously for the priest to reach them. They instinctively sensed the danger of this place. In this horrific city, the only things they could rely on were their own magic, their swords, and each other. They leaned on one another while waiting for the priest, since the inquisitor assigned to them had merely ordered them to wait in Yoqheim. This city, where they couldn't even sleep peacefully in an inn, was pure torment. They couldn't rest comfortably or eat without fear—people trying to stab them in their sleep, poison in their food, knives flying from nowhere, organs being pulled out in alleyways. All of it was commonplace in the city of outlaws. In a place where murder, rape, and robbery were everyday occurrences, how long could they endure? They were already searching for someone to depend on. But... 'Even if the priest comes, how much will really change...'
Hope had already faded from Yusuba's face. This place overflowed with heretics to begin with. Could a single inquisitor truly change it? He remained deeply skeptical.
--
Early morning. Makel, who had fainted the previous day, opened his eyes. 'What kind of rudeness did I show yesterday...' He hurriedly rose from the bed and headed downstairs. Fainting at the mere mention of the bishop's name—he needed to apologize immediately. Thinking that, Makel wondered how to soothe the priest's anger. He must be furious. Unable to imagine how terrifying that kind priest would be when angered, Makel resolved to prepare an especially lavish breakfast. Since his wife had left for the city to sell wheat, entertaining the guest fell to him.
However... 'It's strangely quiet.' The house was unusually silent. Come to think of it, who had moved him after he fainted? Surely it had been the priest. A grateful act, so he would make breakfast even more abundant. While Makel considered whether to slaughter a cow, he suddenly stopped.
"...Ah." At that moment, seeing the neatly folded clothes he had lent, the letter resting atop them, and four gold coins, Makel understood why the house was so quiet and felt a pang of regret. It was obvious. The priest had already departed long ago.
The letter's contents were short and simple.
May the Goddess's blessing be with your life.
Reading the brief message over and over, Makel knelt on the spot and prayed, overwhelmed by the thought that he had received an extraordinary blessing. He had met someone. Here in this highland... a priest more excellent and outstanding than anyone else.
--
Jenkinson's steps along the rough highland path felt remarkably light. Fortunately the swamps had dried, and the weather was clear. Cool chill wrapped around him, but it posed no obstacle. He walked steadily for hours. Before long the wheat fields vanished, replaced by nothing but cold, frozen earth. Crunch. Crunch. Listening to the sound of ice breaking beneath his feet, he finally saw it appear. The criminals' country. Yoqheim.
The border gate was so simple one might doubt it was a gate at all—no one stood guard. It was merely a fence, as if declaring that everything beyond belonged to Yoqheim. Jenkinson crossed it lightly. At that moment, he set foot in the land of outlaws. Of course, calling it a country was generous; it was really just one city. Still, the stench of blood already hung thick in the air.
'Eleven corpses. Clean cuts, too.' After walking a short distance, he regarded the eleven bodies scattered across the ground. That level of swordsmanship suggested it was the work of his acquaintances—far too precise for common thugs. While examining the corpses, he heard movement surrounding him.
"Hey! If you've come here, you owe a toll." The men began threatening him while casually spinning their guns, though their intent to kill was unmistakable. Jenkinson smiled. "Well, this is..."
Bang! Without another word, one of them fired directly at him. Chiiiiiik...!
"!!!" Jenkinson caught the bullet between his teeth, then spat it onto the ground. He flexed his hands lightly. Crack. Crack crack. "It feels real now." Seeing the crowd greeting him with bullets, the reality finally sank in. He had arrived in Yoqheim.