Dominus Vobiscum (4)
Her first thought, popping into her mind, was utterly absurd.
Should she cut down this man right here?
As a Heretic Inquisitor, it was a question that required no deliberation at all.
An unauthorized mass. Preaching without the Holy Kingdom's sanction. Spreading doctrine by one who hadn't even received baptism.
The clauses from the documents surfaced one by one, crystal clear in her mind.
Arrest or execute upon discovery.
Countless verdicts she'd issued before.
She had almost never hesitated to deliver the fitting punishment.
Dominica's hand drifted slowly toward the hilt of her sword. The cold leather pressed against her palm.
A familiar sensation.
Every time she gripped this hilt, she never wavered. Right and wrong, faith and heresy, light and darkness. Everything divided neatly into two, and all she had to do was cleave the evil.
Yet.
Her hand wouldn't move.
Just a little pressure, and the blade would slide free. One swift motion. The man showed no sign of resistance. She couldn't even be sure if he'd block it like before, but at least she had to try.
She had to.
She had to.
"…."
Dozens of eyes fixed on her.
…They were pleading.
She could tell, even without words.
…Why.
These were followers of a heretic. They had to be. That was how everything fit together so far.
But….
One nagging thought kept churning through her mind.
What do I base my sword on? No—what have I even been wielding it for…?
Doctrine?
Orders?
Or….
Reality, right in front of her?
Her gaze slowly shifted to Ellian.
A face with no thought of flight. No tension, no fear. No hostility that might drive him to charge her, either.
He was simply waiting.
For her judgment.
Dominica's lips began to tremble faintly.
"…You're not going to resist?"
Ellian shook his head lightly.
"There's no reason to."
"You could die."
"I suppose so."
Too calm a reply.
"Aren't you afraid?"
"…I am."
An unexpected answer.
"But."
He continued.
"If you can all end today a little less alone, then that's enough."
In that instant.
Something deep in Dominica's mind lurched badly off-kilter.
The sermons she'd heard at the Inquisition.
Authority, order, obedience, purification.
And now these words.
…A single phrase of comfort.
Her grip tightened on the hilt—then slackened.
She had to strike. This violated regulations. It was blatant heresy.
But.
Why.
In the past, the sword would already be drawn by now.
Dominica took a step forward. Her boot struck the stone floor, the sound echoing sharply through the church.
And then.
"…Ellian."
Her voice calling his name was ice-cold.
"I will now list the charges applicable to you."
"…."
"First. Conducting a mass without the Holy Kingdom's authorization."
Ellian replied quietly.
"…I merely spoke because people had gathered."
It didn't even sound like a defense.
She pressed on to the next charge.
"Second. Preaching doctrine without priestly ordination."
"…I merely shared what I knew."
"Third. Rallying the masses in the name of God."
Ellian lowered his eyes briefly, as if pondering, then spoke.
"…I merely sought to help those in need."
A sniffle echoed from somewhere in the church.
Dominica hesitated for a moment, but.
She didn't stop the interrogation.
She couldn't stop.
"Fourth. Unauthorized interpretation and dissemination of doctrine."
"…I merely read the scriptures as they are written."
The same phrase tacked onto every response.
—I merely… did that.
Those simple words grated on her strangely. Her voice grew quieter.
"…Fifth."
She started to speak, then paused.
Searching her mind for another charge to add.
There were plenty of regulations. She could fabricate charges endlessly.
But.
Oddly….
Her mouth wouldn't open easily.
Because she knew it herself.
These things she was reciting didn't feel like sins. No—could they even be called sins? Then what about all the cases she'd pursued before…?
"…."
Only silence hung in the air.
Ellian said nothing.
He simply watched her.
In that moment.
Something in Dominica's heart twisted violently.
…What is this.
Her breath caught a little.
She couldn't pinpoint why she was angry. Or why the unease gnawed at her.
"…."
Then it hit her.
Watching the man before her.
The suspicion crept in that her entire way of life might be wrong.
…Ah.
Her voice was trembling.
"…Then let me ask."
Her breathing quickened. Panic seeped into her tone.
"Without rules, ordination, or orders… why do something like this?"
Ellian paused, then answered.
"…Because it was needed."
A simple reply.
So simple that.
It felt cruel to her.
Dominica's eyes shook violently.
Needed.
That one word weighed less than every reason she'd clung to her whole life.
Not orders, not doctrine, not duty.
Just because it was needed.
"…."
She slowly lowered her hand from the scabbard.
Only then did she realize.
Why she'd been reciting the charges one by one.
It wasn't to pass judgment. It was to find proof that this man was wrong.
So her own life wouldn't be invalidated.
But.
In the end, she found none.
"…What have I even believed in."
A hollow murmur.
The church was silent. No one dared breathe, let alone speak.
In that hush.
Dominica's memories slowly rewound.
The day she first arrived here.
The church turned marketplace.
Fruit crates, wine barrels, tents, haggling voices. Goods piled even on the altar. A desecration of the sacred.
She had been furious then.
Ready to draw her sword.
…Why was that?
Closing her eyes, the emotions resurfaced.
Outrage and disgust.
And conviction.
Because it violated doctrine.
"…Yes."
That must have been it. Because it went against doctrine. That's why she'd been angry.
That was right. It had to be.
Her gaze returned to Ellian.
Then.
What had this man done?
He'd shared bread with the poor. Given seats to those with nowhere to go.
Brought together people who'd turned their backs on each other, then preached the teachings of Goddess Yustia.
And.
Restored the abandoned church to its true form.
Not perfect, not ornate.
…But filled with faith.
Only one thing remained.
He wasn't an ordained priest.
No authorization.
No qualifications.
That was it.
"…."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Something in her mind quietly crumbled.
The standards she'd upheld until now… the clear line dividing good and evil.
The realization that it was thinner than she'd thought.
Soon.
She walked slowly toward Ellian.
"…The documents."
Ellian blinked.
"There should be records. Meeting rosters, sermon contents, scriptures used… hand them all over."
Ellian gazed at her for a moment, then nodded.
"Understood."
He went to a small wooden box beside the altar.
Lifted the lid and carefully withdrew a bundle of tied papers.
Dominica took the stack from him and quickly scanned through it.
Crooked handwriting on worn parchment caught her eye.
Children's names, records of the sick and elderly, amounts of food distributed, sermon contents—packed densely onto the pages.
It reeked of the diligence of this man named Ellian.
She flipped a page.
And.
Her hand stopped.
The paper's texture was different.
The recording style, too.
Ink smudged. Traces of hasty writing.
Dominica's eyes narrowed as her gaze dropped lower.
"…."
"The interrogation ends here. But it's not over. Come find me later."
She rubbed her chin briefly, then turned and headed somewhere with those words.
Deep in the forest, inside a hidden building.
Rate drummed his fingers irritably.
"Isn't this weird?"
Village chief Matias, seated across from him, looked up.
"What is?"
"The letter clearly said a Heretic Inquisitor had been dispatched."
Anxiety laced Rate's voice.
"So why's the church still quiet? It should be wrapped up by now, right?"
Matias pondered briefly, then snorted.
"Takes time, that's all. Heretic inquisitions always do."
But his own hand trembled slightly around his glass.
Then, one of the priests standing nearby interjected.
"No need to worry."
A calm voice.
"I hear this inquisitor is highly skilled. One of the best in the Holy Kingdom."
Another priest nodded.
"Once she takes a case, she always sees it through."
Rate smirked.
"Then even better. That bastard's probably on his knees confessing by now."
A shallow chuckle rippled through the room.
And in that moment.
BAM—!
The building's door exploded inward. Wood shards flew everywhere.
Everyone leaped to their feet.
"…?"
A single figure stood in the entryway.
Black coat, sword at her hip, emerging through the dust.
Dominica Alba.
"…Why have you come here…"
Matias blurted reflexively.
"I-Inquisitor. To such a humble place…."
Polite speech he'd never use normally. A forced smile to curry favor.
Dominica didn't reply. She strode slowly inside.
She drew a bundle of documents from her coat.
Thud.
She tossed it onto the table.
Papers scattered.
Rate's eyes flicked to them, and his face hardened.
Familiar handwriting.
Familiar names.
Their own signatures.
Embezzlement records, falsified reports, tithe misappropriation, lists of forced labor on the poor.
No one could speak, breath caught in their throats.
Dominica stated flatly.
"…Now do you get it?"
A cold voice.
In that instant.
Rate moved first.
"Run!"
A chair toppled.
The priest lunging for the window grabbed the handle—
Whoosh.
Something flashed. The next moment, he was slammed to the floor.
Dominica's boot pinned his back.
Matias staggered back.
But Dominica's scabbard struck his gut precisely.
All the air whooshed out of him.
Rate reached for his knife—but.
Crack.
His wrist twisted. The blade clattered to the floor.
And he was on his knees.
A few seconds.
That was all it took. The room filled with only groans.
Dominica looked down at them, sword still sheathed.
"Fleeing…."
Her gaze held no mercy.
"The first choice sinners always make."
Her eyes swept over each one.
Then she gripped the mace at her waist with one hand.
"The interrogation begins."