Dominus Vobiscum (3)
The sun had set, and evening fallen. The carpenters, who had filled the day with the clang of hammers, were the first to stop. Those finishing up in the fields and hauling loads wrapped up their work as if by some unspoken agreement. No one called out or announced it, yet everyone began converging on the same place.
The Holy Light Church.
Dominica Alba watched the scene in silence.
“...”
No one had summoned them. No bell had tolled. And yet, people started filing naturally into the church.
Villagers arriving late from elsewhere joined the flow.
Mothers clasping children's hands, stooped elders, young men in dirt-streaked clothes from a day's labor.
A few froze at the sight of her.
Black coat. Silver emblem. Sword at her waist.
Heretic Inquisitor….
She heard throats gulping. Some bowed their heads and stepped aside. They cowered in fear.
But strangely, their feet didn't stop. They didn't flee elsewhere. They simply… entered the church.
By the time she reached the door behind them, her own steps hesitated.
A weathered wooden door.
Just like the one in her memory.
Lined with fruits… cheap tents strung up there. She swallowed the bitter taste rising in her throat.
Pushing the handle, the door creaked open slowly.
Kiiik.
And…
“...”
Dominica's gaze halted.
The church interior.
Nothing like her memory. The market stalls were gone.
Neat rows of wooden chairs… The floor wasn't flawless, but it had been scrubbed with care. Even the stubborn stains between the old stone tiles had faded.
The altar.
Her eyes drifted slowly forward.
The statue, once buried in dust and shoved against the wall, had been restored to its rightful place.
The cracks remained, but it gleamed clean now, with visible traces of clumsy, handmade repairs. Crude, yet earnest.
A few candles flickered. Not expensive sacred incense candles. Irregular shapes, likely gathered from the villagers themselves.
Yet strangely… the light felt warm. Red and blue hues settled softly on the floor.
…Impossible.
Without question.
The last time she'd seen this place, it had been a marketplace.
A site where faith lay trampled. A place that had nearly drawn her sword in rage. A barren wasteland she'd assumed beyond saving.
But now…
It was a church.
Not perfect. Not grand.
But oddly.
Peaceful.
Without thinking, she took a step inside.
What exactly are you trying to do?
The answer came swiftly.
The moment she entered, realization dawned.
“An unauthorized mass.”
Exactly as the reports described.
At the altar stood the man, Ellian.
No formal priestly robes. Not even garments emblazoned with the Holy Light Church's emblem. Just a single volume of scripture in his hands.
No baptism records. No priestly ordination. No sanction from the Holy Kingdom.
By the letter of the law, it was textbook heresy. Ironclad evidence.
Dominica's hand brushed her sword hilt unconsciously. She could arrest him on the spot right now, no issue.
…But.
She didn't move. Because Ellian had begun to speak.
“May the peace of Goddess Yustia be with you all, who have endured another day.”
A quiet, steady voice. His gestures were unexaggerated, devoid of any demagogue's flair.
The people bowed their heads. Some closed their eyes.
Dominica began observing it all, arms crossed.
Looking for any slip-up, in plain terms.
Heresy always reveals itself.
By twisting doctrine, exalting themselves, or invoking the divine name to claim authority.
It had to.
It had to, but…
“Do not turn from the hungry. The goddess hears not the prayers of those who ignore them.”
Dominica's brow twitched.
A familiar passage. Straight from scripture. No alterations, no distortions.
The man continued. She listened intently to every word.
He didn't call for followers. Didn't demand tithes. Didn't promise miracles.
Simply…
“Hate not one another. If you do not abandon each other, the goddess will not abandon you.”
…Love thy neighbor.
That was all he emphasized.
Dominica's gaze slowly swept the surroundings.
She saw their faces.
Not the eyes of fanatics. Not entranced stares.
Peaceful. Faces bearing… a sense of relief.
…A mass?
No.
The image in her mind was different.
Like a schoolteacher.
Not a sermon breeding worship.
Words teaching how to live.
That realization began to upend her thoughts.
If it were truly vile heresy, it'd be simple to handle. Just cut him down as always.
But what she was hearing now…
Was the Holy Light Church's doctrine itself.
Purer even than the sermons she'd heard in the inquisition halls…
“...”
Who is the heretic? The thought flickered through her mind.
“…Ugh.”
The church had filled completely. People sat in silence.
A child rubbed sleepy eyes against her mother's shoulder. A man with callused hands from work kept his hat on his knee, head bowed.
No one chattered. Only the man's voice filled the space.
Then he paused. Silence deepened.
He slowly looked around at them, shifting his gaze from face to face as if confirming each one.
“…I have something to tell you all.”
Postures straightened slightly. His own expression had hardened.
“To you all… I'm sorry, but… this gathering…”
A short sigh.
“…will be the last.”
In that instant.
Murmurs rippled through the once-quiet church.
“…What did you say?”
People exchanged bewildered glances, faces full of incomprehension.
“The last…?”
“What do you mean?”
Chairs scraped. Several bolted to their feet.
“What kind of talk is that!”
Voices rose.
A middle-aged woman stood and spoke.
“Coming here… it was the joy of my day.”
Her voice trembled.
“After work… hearing your words here… that was what got me through the day.”
Someone from the back chimed in.
“That's right!”
“Are you abandoning us?”
“What did we do wrong!”
Anxiety spread. Less anger than… fear.
Dominica couldn't make sense of the scene.
Wasn't this strange?
When a heretic gathering disbands, people rage or cling fanatically.
But these folks…
Feared loss.
Then.
Gazes turned toward the back.
Conversations cut off.
One person.
Another.
Heads swiveled in the same direction.
…The back.
Near the entrance.
Black coat.
Silver emblem.
Heretic Inquisitor.
Dominica. All eyes converged on her.
The murmurs gradually died.
“…Ah.”
Someone gulped.
“No way…”
No need for words. Everyone understood.
The reason for "last."
Dozens of eyes filled her vision. Eyes mixed with fear, resentment, anxiety, and desperate plea.
“...”
She'd never received such looks. Terror was familiar. Hatred, even more so.
But…
This was new.
…Why.
For a moment, she was speechless.
She hadn't done a thing yet. And yet they looked at her like she'd already stolen everything.
Her heart pounded.
A child in the front row clutched her mother's hem.
“Mom… who's that…?”
A small whisper, but clear in the hushed church.
The mother pulled her closer instead of answering. The image burned into Dominica's sight.
Am I the villain here…?
Her fingers on the sword hilt stiffened, unresponsive.
…This is wrong.
Plain fact, isn't it? Heretic gathering. Unauthorized preacher. She was the Heretic Inquisitor.
End of story.
Normally, no need to even think.
Yet.
“…Dominica.”
It was Ellian.
He raised a hand lightly, as if calming them.
“It's all right.”
A steady voice, as if he'd known all along.
The murmurs ebbed.
Ellian descended the altar slowly. He stopped a few paces from her.
“Everyone.”
He turned to face them.
“This person isn't what you think.”
A few faces showed confusion.
Defending me…? A heretic, in this situation…?
It defied logic.
“She came to do her duty.”
Ellian neither smiled nor made excuses. He simply stated the fact.
“And… I knew that.”
The church fell silent again. Heads turned slowly toward him.
“From the very start.”
A few swallowed hard.
“…You knew?”
Ellian nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then you had time to run.”
“No reason to.”
His reply came too plainly.
Dominica's brows furrowed.
Heresies fell into three types.
Those who fled. Those who resisted fanatically… or those who claimed divinity.
The man before her was none of those.
“You…”
She continued slowly.
“Do you understand you're about to be arrested?”
Ellian lowered his eyes thoughtfully, then raised them.
“…Yes.”
And added,
“That's why I said today would be the last.”
As the words landed, a sob rose from the back.
Dominica's gaze wavered.
This is wrong.
…What is this?
The first question to pierce her mind.
Should she strike him down now? No sign of resistance. If she willed it, this time…
Her hand froze on the hilt.
Everyone in the church held their breath, eyes on her.
And in that moment.
Dominica realized.
It wasn't Ellian who needed judging here.
She was the one on trial.