Pitch-Black Without an Answer (3)
The moment the Sacrificial Offering Festival began, divine envoys and distinguished guests lined up by the droves to visit Hella.
Vassal states, naturally, but even the neighboring kingdoms made the trip with diligence. The Empire itself, despite the considerable distance, was no exception.
Autumn, after all, was the season when guests came calling in the greatest numbers.
"This year's festival carries particularly high expectations."
"Indeed. This cohort, after all, is said to include the Saint."
The Saint! Another master of Hella — the one destined to become Pope!
Whoever takes the papal seat will decide the balance of power.
Those with old ties to the current Pope, those hoping for a new one — anyone with a stake in the outcome had come flocking. The Offering Festival was diplomacy and investment at their sharpest, a contest of blades never drawn. It was a priceless stage not only for Hella but for every great House seeking to make its name.
No wonder the priests were smiling from ear to ear as they attended to the guests.
"To have such interest shown in our Saint — it is an honor. We couldn't be more delighted that you've come to see Lord Kina, our Saint."
The ones commanding the room's atmosphere were, as ever, the Gold priests, who had long cultivated these very connections.
But then—
"Why would the young lord Kina be the Saint? Nothing has been decided yet."
"!"
The Red priests began to growl, elbowing their way into the Gold priests' business.
"Have you forgotten the prophecy? The Saint shall come from the Red Faith."
"I've never heard of any such prophecy."
"Hah. Do you have any idea how precious the Stigmata our young lord received is?"
Gold and Red snarled at each other, each insisting they were the greatest of all.
And right at that moment—
"The apprentices are coming out."
As the apprentices emerged into the Execution Grounds, gasps of admiration rippled through the crowd. The Lords of the Desert, honored guests of House Gold, were no exception.
"My lord father, I believe those are the ones."
"Oh. So those are the famed next-Pope generation."
Lord Lamik of the Desert studied the priests with a meticulous eye. They were still young, with a touch of boyishness lingering about them, yet not a single one was lacking.
It was his first visit to the Holy Empire, but their reputation was clearly well deserved. All of them devout and reverent, having cast worldly things aside to serve as servants of god—
"One moment. What... what is that child doing?"
The entire assembly turned toward a single point, murmuring.
Lamik craned his neck for a better look.
Yes... you see, there is precisely one... an odd one out. A small child riding a horse.
Platinum blonde — hair you could never forget once seen.
Utterly worldly for a priest, and for one claiming to be a servant of god, inexplicably regal—
"Wait. Who, exactly, is that child riding?!"
"The one underneath him — isn't that the heir of House Red?"
"Pardon? The heir of House Red is serving as a horse?!"
The VIP seats erupted into uproar.
Well — if it were only the heir of House Red playing the mount, perhaps the shock might have been survivable.
"And the one holding up his cape from behind is the Pope's own grandson!"
...Holding up his what?
Bewildered, Lamik examined the strange procession in detail.
So... in short: the platinum-haired boy was perched on the neck of the red-haired youth, while a white-haired boy of unmistakable nobility attended on him from behind.
Before long, the platinum-haired boy waved a hand lazily, and the white-haired boy stepped to his side. A hand then rose smoothly to rest atop the boy's head — the platinum-haired child using the white-haired boy's head as an armrest, looking thoroughly comfortable about it.
And a chestnut-haired boy trudged along behind them, heaving deep sighs as he carried the little king's luggage.
It was a spectacle strange enough to leave the guests marveling.
"You said they were competing for candidacy — but in truth, have you already finished selecting your Saint?"
Only then, as if understanding at last, Lamik and the guests turned their eyes to the Gold priests.
"Ah! Then the one on the horse must be the Saint himself? Remarkable. Truly blessed by god and sharp of mind — why, he's practically—"
"THAT WORTHLESS MONKEY-HEADED BASTARD!!!"
"Yes, precisely. The monkey-headed gentlema—"
...Excuse me?
The... what?
The guests were stunned by language one could never, ever hear in the lands of priests — a vulgarity of the basest kind.
But whether the guests were scandalized or not, the priests vanished in a stampede.
Wh-what was that?
What on earth is going on?
Ah. I knew it. I knew this would happen.
Sweat poured down Shuri in sheets. Through eyes straining under the weight of Isaac's luggage, he could see them — the barbarians flushed scarlet with rage... no, the priests.
Priests had come swarming to the outskirts of the Execution Grounds in numbers far beyond a handful. It was enough to make the apprentice executioners restless.
"What's going on? Why are the senior priests like that?"
"Why are they all rushing over in such a frenzy?"
Seeing their seniors in such a state, the execution detail grew anxious that something had gone terribly wrong.
"Did something happen? They're gesturing like crazy over there!"
"Is it some kind of important signal?"
"They're... grabbing the pillars and shaking them...?"
Shuri stared fixedly at the sky.
Ahh. With the guests here, they can't bring themselves to charge into the Execution Grounds — but one thing is crystal clear: they want Isaac's neck.
And in fact, every word reached Isaac's ears with perfect clarity.
"Hey! Aren't you going to drag that thing out?! What are you doing?!"
"You lunatic! You're going to try?! You're really going to go through with it!!"
My, my, you priests look awfully healthy. All that blood rushing to your faces — no need to worry about dying of clogged arteries, I see. And here I was thinking you might need a health checkup. What a relief.
At the same time, the executioners selected by the Imperial household were rolling their eyes in sheer disbelief at the bizarre quartet.
"That... that's Kina Berith, right...?"
"And that's Naizer over there."
"Are they being held hostage? What is this? What is he?"
What else could it be? Isaac had abandoned them all and walked off, so they'd had no choice.
Naizer gritted his teeth.
Those struck by the rattle had chased after Isaac, only for him to declare that he had no need for servants of any kind.
—But I do require a horse to carry me, an armrest, and a coat rack.
—...
And so, one by one, they had become horse, armrest, and coat rack respectively.
Of course, Isaac had done it entirely on purpose.
Why, you ask?
'Being a Saint isn't just about ability. Politics is half the job.'
Overwhelming power? Great. Love it.
But just as important was your environment. If your surroundings didn't keep up, life got exhausting. Without backing, sooner or later you'd be swept out the door on some unfair pretext.
That was a lesson from his days as the Skeleton Demon King.
And besides — staged like this, wouldn't the sight spread far and wide through the mouths of every guest present?
Then everyone would say it!
Isaac has both Gold and Red under his command!
True to form, Isaac leaned down and whispered to Shuri, who was wearing the expression of a man chewing on dung.
"You getting this? Out there in the world, whoever calls themselves Saint first owns the title. Doesn't matter what tricks you use — getting your face branded into their heads is half the battle."
"...People don't forget your face after one look anyway, you absolute brat."
"Ah, so my face really is too handsome?"
...Does this bastard have a conscience at all?
'I honestly can't even begin to guess which god is going to get picked by this lunatic.'
Well — still, there was one small mercy.
This was only the first part of the festival, so the Cardinals and the Pope had not yet arrived. Their part came after the executions, at the presentation of offerings. That was the only reason Shuri and the others had gone along with Isaac's nonsense in the first place.
'Ugh. If even one Cardinal had witnessed this... God, it would have been the absolute end.'
Yes. The end. The absolute end—
"......"
"......"
"......"
Every last one of the Cardinals was watching.
As proof: the Blue, Gold, and Red Cardinals, newly arrived at the Execution Grounds, stood frozen solid. And the White Cardinal gripped the wall, her slender shoulders trembling.
She was trembling so violently she looked to be in physical distress, prompting the head of House Blue to offer a remark.
"...Could you stop laughing?"
"Pff— hkk. My apologies. It's simply that I have never, in all my years, seen the three of you making the identical face."
"......"
The White Cardinal regarded them with undisguised mockery.
"Is this by mutual agreement? And here I thought I knew the young lord of Red and Kina. Who would have imagined them like that."
"Like hell it's by agreement."
The Blue Cardinal squeezed his eyes shut.
I begged him not to cause a single incident, and he's gone and stabbed both Red and Gold in the back. Spectacularly.
The Gold Cardinal strode off first, wearing an expression of profound contempt. Watching him go, the White Cardinal produced a smile so beautiful it bordered on terrifying.
"My, how surprisingly unbothered you are. And here I'd heard you were so strict with your son."
The Gold Cardinal did not dignify her with an answer. The truth was, he had anticipated this situation from the start. Well... yes. He simply hadn't expected it to take quite that form.
He had good reason. The moment word spread that Kina had registered himself as Isaac's servant, the entire estate had been turned upside down.
And when confronted, what had Kina said?
—It is necessary if I am to become Pope. And I have no intention of surrendering the papal seat to anyone.
'Fine. That was answer enough for me.'
It beat having him wander off the path in the storm-and-stress of youth. And above all, there was no harm in the two of them being close.
'Isaac is the kind of creature who could summon the Supreme God. Even for the sake of that plan, staying close to him is the right move.'
Of course, he must not actually be allowed to summon the Supreme God. He'd already taken precautions, but one could never be too careful.
At his silence, the White Cardinal beamed at him all the brighter.
"Why so quiet, Lord Gold? I wonder what the reason could be."
At that, the Gold Cardinal stopped mid-stride and turned his head with unmistakable disdain.
Priestly society was, after all, ferociously exclusive. Whatever tolerance existed for other faiths, neither the Pope nor Gold would ever welcome a woman seated among the Cardinals.
"Kina will be Pope. Nothing has changed."
The summoning of a god?
'Isaac won't manage it today anyway—'
"Oh! It seems House Gold has forgotten something. Since Isaac's name wasn't on the summoning roster, I took the liberty of adding it back."
At the Red Cardinal's cheerful words, it was as if a blizzard swept down upon the backs of the Gold and Blue Cardinals alike.
You— you son of a—
You put WHAT back on the list?
The two mortal enemies turned as one to glare at the same man.
You meddlesome little— doing something THAT useless—
But heedless of their murderous stares, the Red Cardinal smiled like a fox basking in the sun.
"We look forward to it. To seeing which evil god answers."
The two Cardinals looked ready to wring his neck with their bare hands.
'Damn it! Should I snap this bastard's neck first?! If an evil god comes out, it's ALL OVER!'
'Damn it all — no evil god is coming. The SUPREME GOD is coming, you idiot.'
The sight drew another burst of laughter from the White Cardinal. Her subordinates had cursed Isaac so relentlessly that she'd grown genuinely curious what sort of child he was.
In the end, the Gold Cardinal signaled to a subordinate with a flick of his eyes.
And just then, a roar went up from the Execution Grounds. The Fourteen Six Demons had appeared upon the execution platform.
The instant the Fourteen Six Demons emerged, the entire atmosphere of the Execution Grounds changed.
"The execution will now begin."
Isaac's eyes changed as well.
A black flag rose above the central execution platform.
The crest of the Black Faith — a crow emblazoned on black. At a gesture from the masked Black executioner, the Red priests formed a circle and drove their spears into the earth.
FLASH!
A crimson divine circle blazed into being across the ground, and above it a dark shape materialized: a demon, crowned with a torture helm, draped in clanking restraints from head to toe.
The moment the demon revealed itself, the priests could not hold its gaze.
"Th-that's one of the Fourteen Six Demons...!"
"And that's only the sealed state?!"
Before the sight of a 9th-Tier demon none of them had ever laid eyes on, apprentices and priests alike went rigid with tension.
"And the Skeleton Demon King ruled creatures like that... just what in the world—"
Shuri flinched. So did Naizer. The restraints would have been reinforced far beyond what they'd worn in prison — and even so, that was its power?
Isaac, on the other hand, radiated pure killing intent at the sight.
Well, well. What's with wrapping my subordinates up in chains like that, you bastards?
Trying to die?
And torture equipment, on top of it all?
You dragged him out in front of the guests looking like THAT? In that humiliating getup?
But the apprentices and priests, who had been trembling before the demon, looked positively astonished at him instead.
"That's Blue for you... his eyes change the moment he sees a demon!"
"Not trembling before such power — burning with a sense of holy duty instead!"
"So that's what it takes to be a Saint."
It is NOT?!
I'm just royally pissed off, that's all?!