Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Mage and Priest (3)
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Priestess from the Church, Inquisitor tasked with rooting out black mages.
Whenever they interrogated someone, they always extracted the answers they wanted.
Gerhen knew nothing of their methods or secrets, but at this moment, one thing was crystal clear.
That High Priestess had no real intention of grilling the wandering mage.
"Is that the truth?"
"It is not."
"So, it's not the truth."
How was that even an interrogation by an Inquisitor?
Even an immature parent scolding their child would be stricter than that.
'What the hell is with that special treatment?'
Gerhen was more than a little flustered.
The Inquisitors he knew were mad zealots who erased any notion of compromise from their minds at the faintest whiff of black magic.
That was why he'd tried to plant seeds of doubt about Rishir in the High Priestess's mind—to seize complete control of the momentum.
Once an Inquisitor took suspicion root, convincing them otherwise was harder than extinguishing a fire in oil.
In the current situation, nothing would be more reassuring than the Inquisitor putting pressure on Rishir.
But this? What the hell?
An Inquisitor showing unconditional trust to a black magic suspect. Disaster had struck.
Thanks to her, the exact opposite of his intentions had unfolded.
"That outfit... she's an Inquisitor, right?"
"The red cross insignia suggests she's not just any Inquisitor—she's a High Priestess or something..."
"What was that ridiculous Q&A session?"
"...You think she sensed something from him?"
The reason Gerhen—who had received the report of Rishir appearing at the Mage Tower—had been waiting right at the bustling main gate, where foot traffic was heaviest, was simple.
To draw as many eyes as possible.
The biggest point of this plan was to publicly accuse Rishir in front of the maximum number of witnesses.
To reverse the public opinion that was tilting against them by the minute.
The gathered crowd of onlookers began to murmur.
"We knew he had some special ability, but for the High Priestess to see it at a glance?"
"...But a black mage's accomplice?"
"What do you think?"
"You're asking me whose judgment to trust—the High Priestess or a black mage? Give me a break. I couldn't slip out of an Inquisitor's interrogation that smoothly myself."
"Heh heh heh. I said something stupid."
"No, the stupid one isn't—"
The unusual favoritism the Inquisitor showed Rishir piqued their interest.
Far from flipping public opinion, this would only accelerate its slide.
Sensing the crisis, Gerhen quickly racked his brain and took action.
"Quite perplexing. Is that everything?"
"Yes. From what I sensed, he is not speaking falsehoods."
It was just as the High Priestess was about to explain the basis and criteria for her judgment.
"That's blatant favoritism that makes one suspicious of your intentions."
Judging he'd baited her enough, Gerhen cut her off.
Having risen to represent the noble faction through innate political savvy, Gerhen wasn't green enough to let her status crush him.
Master and High Priestess.
Their public standings were roughly equal.
Things might differ if it involved heresy or cults—but
This was the Mage Tower.
One of the few places the Church couldn't act recklessly.
She had justification for intervention at Master Didoa's request, but she was still an outsider.
If Gerhen used his position to exclude her, she had few counters.
"Favoritism? Are you saying I have some ulterior motive in defending a heretic?"
Of course, a woman who could represent the Church's stance single-handedly was no pushover.
She fired back with words laced with thorns of her own.
-Are you saying I'm defending a black mage right now?
-I never said it that bluntly, but you're overreacting. Makes you even more suspicious, no?
As a mudslinging brawl loomed, Gerhen smirked slyly and stepped back.
"High Priestess. As Master Gerhen already mentioned, this incident has entered a new phase."
Others immediately stepped forward.
"I don't know what Master Didoa told you, but to us, this case isn't closed."
"As proud members of the Mage Tower, we intend to resolve it independently. We'd appreciate your respect for that."
Masters of high standing even within the noble faction.
Closer allies to Gerhen than most—they were in the same boat.
If Gerhen goes down, I'm screwed too!
With that mindset, they fully backed his words.
"..."
Their cunning rhetoric suddenly painted the High Priestess in a bad light.
As an outsider meddling excessively in Tower affairs for some agenda.
Some apprentices saw through Gerhen's gang's scheme and felt disgusted, but they couldn't show it.
This was a public gathering of many apprentices.
Siding with the High Priestess here would brand them as Tower traitors cozying up to the Church.
Gerhen's insidious intent was working, despite minor hitches.
On another note, Gerhen felt urgency.
'Damn it. How did this—'
He'd regained initiative somehow, but the situation had worsened beyond comparison.
This should have been a leisurely chance to corner Rishir.
But the High Priestess's intervention had turned it into a precarious tightrope walk—
"What's going on?"
"Master Gerhen has Rishir pinned—"
"You know that thing? Master Didoa brought in a High Priestess from the Church—"
Meanwhile, the crowd of onlookers kept growing.
Gerhen's mind raced faster than ever.
He made a swift judgment.
His sharp political instincts were screaming a warning.
To push further here, he'd need resolve to see it through to the end.
The resolve was already there.
Otherwise, why bribe a black mage to perjure himself?
The problem was the situation.
With the massive variable of a "suspect-friendly High Priestess," staking it all now was too risky.
'Take some losses and retreat for now.'
There would surely be another chance later.
Just as Gerhen moved to defuse things—
"So, what do you want from me?"
The chaotic atmosphere tensed instantly.
The Church's High Priestess.
The Mage Tower's noble faction, wielding strong influence within.
Even they hesitated to speak freely under each other's scrutiny—yet an unexpected figure piped up boldly.
Rishir.
He stared at Gerhen and stated clearly.
"I don't know why I've offended you, but let's settle this once and for all."
Gerhen's face twisted in shock and rage.
The High Priestess and Masters were locked in a standoff around him.
He never imagined a mere wandering mage—a bastard at that—would so brazenly voice an opinion.
"Tulran. That man is a black mage who dared deceive the Mage Tower's wizards. And a loser who lost everything when his plans unraveled because of me. If he speaks of me, his intent is obvious: deception and hatred."
"Are you saying I am being toyed with by that black mage's lies?"
Gerhen glared at Rishir with subtle intimidation.
Rishir effortlessly ignored the gaze and continued.
"Master Gerhen is a respected Master of the Gray Mage Tower. Surely you wouldn't hound me based on one black mage's ravings."
Gerhen clenched his fist with all his might. His nails dug into flesh.
He felt contempt for the impudent bastard lashing out beyond his station. But he couldn't show it.
Crushing him with authority here would backfire spectacularly.
Not just him—others understood Gerhen's intent in choosing a crowded spot to escalate.
"There must be other evidence, other plans. Otherwise, you'd face reprimand for 'persecuting the innocent' in hunting a black mage. So, I exercise my rightful claim to question it."
Rishir had eaten cold stares in noble houses for over a decade.
He knew exactly how to act in a situation like this.
He spoke with proper decorum.
Vocabulary and tone as refined as any high noble.
Before long, everyone present hung on his words.
In this moment, he was neither an overreaching wanderer nor a bastard.
A rightful speaker.
All eyes followed his gaze.
To Gerhen.
The crowd's attention zeroed in on him.
His prepared escape routes crumbled one by one.
Cornered on a cliff's edge.
Now, wanted or not, he had to finish it.
"Quite bold."
Gerhen feigned calm as he pulled out his prepared item.
"Shall I take that to mean you're confident in proving your innocence?"
He didn't like using it under the High Priestess's watch, but now wasn't the time to care.
"That's—"
Meltas and Fienne immediately recognized what Gerhen had produced.
Inside the case: two feathers of a special form—
No, one split feather preserved.
It was a feather from the "Purity Bird," a spirit beast. Its exact mechanism was unknown, but it reacted to one's "karma" by staining black.
Purity Feathers came in three main types.
Tail feathers.
Wing feathers.
Body feathers.
The Purity Bird feathers' reactivity to karma grew stronger the closer to the heart—from tail to body.
The Church used this trait to select priests of talent.
Tail feathers were standard.
Even lifelong pious clerics saw tail feathers dim slightly upon touch.
Only high priests could maintain purity with wing feathers.
"This is a Purity Bird tail feather. If you're truly innocent, it will prove it."
Hearing Gerhen, Fienne and Meltas thought:
Sophistry.
Karma wasn't a gauge for black mages.
But his words held sly persuasive power.
Purity Feathers and black magic.
The combination piqued curiosity.
Eyes shifted back to Rishir.
'...'
Soon, the two nodded at Rishir.
Rishir himself.
He just might prove his innocence even with this flawed tail feather method.
Rishir nodded and reached for the case Gerhen offered.
"..."
Rishir's hand approached slowly.
Gerhen smirked inwardly in triumph.
He seemed confident, reaching without hesitation—but no chance.
After all, that "tail feather" was a body feather artfully shaped like one.
Even Gerhen admitted it was a cheap trick.
But it was fine.
He knew what decided these spectacles wasn't reason or logic, but raw impact.
Body feathers—far too sensitive—couldn't stay pure even for the Church's saints.
The feather would scorch black on Rishir's touch, searing an indelible impression.
'Got him.'
Gerhen exulted silently.
Rishir's hand touched the Purity Feather, lifting it.
And—
"..."
And—
...nothing happened.
Even after ample time for everyone to see.
The crowd began to murmur.
"...No!"
Gerhen blurted involuntarily.
It didn't need a dramatic flare.
Even a slight darkening, and he had countermeasures.
But the feather gave no such leeway, retaining its pristine white.
"Something's wrong! Definitely something!"
Panicking, desperate to act, Gerhen did what he never would normally.
Reflexively, he grabbed the remaining half-feather from the case.
Whoosh.
The half-feather didn't just discolor—it burned black and vanished without trace.
"..."
"..."
The murmurs ceased abruptly.
Eyes left Rishir's snowy feather, fixating on Gerhen's empty hand.
"..."
Even Gerhen stared blankly at his hand, speechless.
"...Ha."
High Priestess Bardros, who'd watched it all, let out a scoff.
She'd suspected Gerhen tampered with the tail feather.
Prepared to defend Rishir if needed—but
What kind of ridiculous turn was this?
Anyway.
At this point, she could step in without issue.
She approached Rishir, taking the Purity Feather from his hand.
About to speak to wrap things up—
She felt unease and checked her hand.
Was it her imagination, or had the "tail feather"—pure moments ago—dimmed slightly?