The Approaching Blood Wind
Meanwhile.
"Mm…."
What do I do.
Back at the inn, Juhan had been turning the problem over in his mind without pause. Everyone he'd asked about the Pilgrimage Knights had given him roughly the same answer.
Basically, they're people we have nothing to do with.
Logan the innkeeper. Jennifer, the receptionist at the Adventurers' Guild. Both of them had simply drawn a line and called them "very important people." From an ordinary commoner's point of view, maybe there wasn't much difference between a regular Holy Knight and a Pilgrimage Knight — the gap was so vast that both felt equally remote.
He was still brooding when someone knocked on his door.
Knock, knock.
Logan?
Juhan, who had been concentrating, realized a moment later that he'd completely missed the presence approaching him. Living in a human body had taught him plenty, and one of those lessons was that it was a thoroughly defective vessel. Of course, convenience and frailty were two different things.
Creak.
"What is it…."
He opened the door without much thought — then took one look at the person standing outside and shut his mouth mid-sentence, swallowing whatever he'd been about to say.
"……."
"……."
The man at his door was none other than Velkras.
I didn't think he'd come back before the day was even over….
His first thought was, This guy is relentless. Velkras had told him to come find him on his own, and now he couldn't even wait that long before showing up at the inn?
"I have no excuse."
Perhaps sensing Juhan's mood, Velkras apologized with a genuinely sheepish look.
"…It's fine. What brings you here?"
Juhan simply shook his head as if it didn't matter, his expression inviting Velkras to get to the point of coming all this way.
What Velkras said next was the last thing Juhan had expected.
"I am about to return to the Holy Kingdom."
"…What? You're leaving now?"
Velkras let out a quiet sigh as he said it.
Hoo—
"Truthfully, I don't even have time to be standing here. And yet."
He looked at Juhan for a moment, then continued.
"The Saintess made a heartfelt request of me."
"A request? But the Saintess said she was…."
Juhan couldn't help but feel puzzled. As far as he remembered, the Saintess had told him she would be staying in Anton Village for another three or four days.
Velkras shook his head.
"The Saintess has already returned to the Holy Kingdom."
"What?"
"By now, she will have arrived."
"……."
The news that the Saintess was already back in the Holy Kingdom hit harder than expected.
Something that important came up?
Velkras was even claiming she would already have arrived. The distance from here to the Holy Kingdom took at least ten days of hard riding without rest — no matter how relentlessly you pushed the horses.
Did they develop some method of drastically shortening the travel distance?
It was something the novel had never mentioned. Juhan filed the conversation away carefully for later.
Still, the fact that Velkras couldn't go with her suggests the method isn't completely unrestricted.
While he was thinking, Velkras asked again.
"The Saintess's offer. What do you make of it?"
He meant her proposal that Juhan become a Pilgrimage Knight. And he wasn't finished yet.
"Under ordinary circumstances, it is a rank that cannot be conferred in this slapdash fashion."
"……."
"It is a position granted only after thorough examination by the Holy Kingdom and a vote among the High Priests. That is what a Pilgrimage Knight is."
"Then…."
"Save for a single exception."
Snap.
Velkras held up one finger.
"By the Saintess's personal authority — once, anytime, anywhere."
"……."
"The last time it was used… I believe was when the previous Saintess was still young. At the very least, seventy or eighty years ago."
He was explaining it for Juhan's benefit, clearly assuming a commoner wouldn't know the Holy Kingdom's deeper workings.
Then he went on.
"I was rather against bringing you in straight as a Pilgrimage Knight at first. But I've changed my mind."
"Changed your mind?"
"I would like you to accept the Saintess's offer."
Velkras's eyes had returned to the look he'd worn when they first met — the hungry gaze of a man who had spotted talent he wanted for himself.
And what he said next was far too grim to come from the mouth of a Holy Knight.
"A blood wind may be about to sweep across the continent."
"…What?"
"What I mean is that we desperately need the help of a young man like you."
There was no further explanation. Just the vague warning that a blood wind was coming, and nothing more — as though he couldn't say anything else to someone who was still an outsider.
"For a while, I expect the Saintess will be unable to leave the Holy Kingdom."
"…Which means."
"You will have to come to the Holy Kingdom yourself."
He was telling Juhan outright to make his own way there — if he wanted to become a Pilgrimage Knight, or whatever it was.
"I'd like nothing more than to set out for the Holy Kingdom with you this instant… but you still seem to be deliberating."
Rustle.
As he spoke, Velkras reached into his inner pocket.
Thump.
"Take this."
"Huh?"
Velkras pulled out a pouch of unknown contents and held it out, nodding for Juhan to check it himself.
Plop.
"This is…."
With a puzzled look, Juhan dug through the pouch and found a small, gleaming token and a substantial amount of coin.
Travel money? Is he telling me to get myself to the Holy Kingdom with this?
Reading the question in his eyes, Velkras spoke.
"That sum should be more than enough to get you to the Holy Kingdom."
"And this token?"
"It identifies you as a retainer of a Guardian. Anywhere the Order's influence reaches, it should resolve most ordinary problems."
Juhan looked down at the token resting in his palm. It looked like nothing more than a scrap of metal, but from the way Velkras spoke, its value was anything but light.
"Is it really all right for me to take something this precious?"
"Ordinarily, no."
Velkras's reply was matter-of-fact.
"But the Saintess herself asked me to."
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
"Guardian!"
He looked as though he meant to say more, but a subordinate Holy Knight came running up and cut him short.
"You must depart now. There is little time remaining."
"…Very well."
Velkras gave a small nod, then turned back to Juhan.
"I hope you will come to the Holy Kingdom."
"……."
"I am not saying you must become a Pilgrimage Knight. Merely…."
He hesitated, as if weighing whether he should say what came next.
"I would like you to meet the Saintess one more time. Of course, I will not resent you if you choose not to come."
"…All right."
"Though the Saintess would be deeply saddened."
Hmph.
There was a trace of bitterness in that small laugh.
"In any case. Even if you have no intention of coming to the Holy Kingdom, feel free to spend the money as you like."
"I can just spend it however I want?"
"But if that is your decision, I would prefer you refrain from using the token. It carries a certain weight of its own, you understand."
If an outsider starts waving it around, I'll be the one in trouble, Velkras seemed to say, laughing heartily.
Whoosh.
With those final words, he turned on his heel.
"I will take my leave. I do hope we meet again."
"Safe travels."
"Yes. Farewell."
He left without waiting for Juhan's answer. He must have been truly pressed for time — a moment later, he was gone without a trace.
"……."
In the end, only Juhan remained, quietly staring down at the pouch Velkras had pressed into his hands.
Bang!
"Does that even make sense?!"
In the Holy Kingdom, deep within the Grand Cathedral's council chamber, countless priests were already locked in heated debate.
"To claim the Great Catastrophe may have returned — how can you make such an irresponsible statement?!"
"Priest Johan, calm yourself. He is merely saying there is a possibility."
"Such a dreadful thing should never be spoken of lightly, nor even entertained!"
The chamber was already in chaos.
The Bell of Catastrophe.
From the Saintess who had gone to inspect it had come a truth almost impossible to believe.
That single sentence — that the Great Catastrophe may have returned — was why they were now baring their teeth at one another.
"We need further investigation! Holding a meeting with the conclusion already decided is completely useless!"
"Are you questioning the Saintess's word?"
"That is not what I mean! I am saying we must proceed with the utmost caution — that is all!"
"Then what, shall we make a public announcement? That the Great Catastrophe appears to have returned?"
The voices across the table only grew louder.
Fists slamming on desks. Shouts and accusations flying back and forth.
And High Priest Roberon, watching it all from the highest seat….
…This is driving me mad.
Hoo——
He pressed his fingers to one temple and shook his head as if the room itself were spinning. He couldn't even tell where to begin mediating. In the end, there was only one person who could resolve this situation.
Creeeak.
Just then, the doors of the council chamber opened quietly. And through that gap appeared the figure Roberon had been waiting for so desperately.
Click. Click.
"S-Saintess."
"She wasn't supposed to arrive until midday…."
The moment she appeared, the priests who had been shouting only seconds before fell silent as if by magic. The figure, of course, was Arcelia. Without a word of reply, she simply made her way to her seat.
"We greet the Saintess."
Rustle.
High Priest Roberon rose at once and offered her his respects.
"We greet the Saintess."
"We greet the Saintess."
Only then did the other priests come to their senses, standing and bowing in turn.
But there was no expression on Arcelia's face. She simply took her place at the center of the chamber without a word. The gentle smile she usually wore was long gone.
"……."
The Arcelia sitting here now was not the young woman who had once clung to Juhan's hand. Only the Saintess of the Holy Kingdom remained — the figure who represented the faithful. There was no time to hesitate. The moment she sat, she spoke.
"High Priest Roberon."
"Your command."
"As you have all heard, the Bell of Catastrophe did not malfunction."
"Hah…."
"It did not."
They had already been informed, but hearing it from the Saintess's own lips carried an entirely different weight.
"Therefore… it is only right that we prepare for the worst."
"Yes."
"What would you recommend, High Priest?"
"……."
Answering her was not difficult. The first measure had already come to mind.
"I believe it would be proper to dispatch Executors to the Anton Baronry."
"H-High Priest!"
"Saintess! That may be going too far…."
At those words, the subordinate priests fell into a panic.
The Holy Kingdom's Executors.
Who were they?
If the Stigma Knights and Guardians were the Holy Kingdom's sturdiest shield…
…then the Executors were its blade. The sharpest blade the Holy Kingdom possessed — men who carried out any order in the name of the divine will.
Their mere appearance was enough to make local power holders break out in a cold sweat, terrified that the axe might fall on them next.
But for all the priests' anxious voices, Roberon did not waver. It was as if this was precisely what had to be done — as if he had been waiting to say these very words to the Saintess.
And Arcelia went even further.
"In addition to dispatching the Executors, send requests for cooperation to every royal court across the continent."
"……!"
An order to issue formal requests for cooperation to every royal house that maintained relations with the Holy Kingdom.
"However, we will not make an official public announcement just yet. Even if the truth is only a matter of time in spreading."
In effect, what she had just said was no different from declaring that the Holy Kingdom would begin to move officially. She was willing to risk throwing the continent into turmoil if it meant snuffing out the spark of catastrophe as quickly as possible.
"Also — any unidentified group activity, every heretic under pursuit, every anomaly at sealed ruins, and so on."
"Yes."
"Report them all to me without omission."
"As the Saintess wills…."
High Priest Roberon simply bowed his head deeply. Watching him in silence, Arcelia continued.
"No one can yet say with certainty whether the Great Catastrophe has truly returned."
"……."
"But it is more than possible that those who serve it have begun to stir. The Bell may have rung in the course of that stirring."
Her voice was calm and even.
"We may be standing, even now… at a turning point from which there is no return."
It was a quiet voice. But not a single person in the room took those words lightly.
All they could do was think the same silent prayer.
Please. May the Lord God watch over us.