6. To the Sacred Tree (3)
Not a single problem had actually been solved.
The demon witnessed on the third floor of the Catacombs remained unhandled, exactly as it had been.
Fortunately, three days had passed since the punitive expedition returned in failure without any sign of movement from it — but if a demon had truly appeared, this was not the sort of matter one could simply stand by and watch.
Viscount Cartein was racking his brain inside his manor.
Hadn't things been quiet all this time? Demon or no demon, hadn't life carried on without incident so long as they dealt with the ordinary monsters that cropped up now and then? So why, out of nowhere, was there talk of a demon appearing? And why, of all places, in Evian?
It had happened in his territory, so yes, it was technically his problem to solve — but a demon was, well, a demon. No matter how wealthy a noble might be, the resources he could pour into something had limits, so he couldn't just throw money at it blindly. And a demon meant priests were needed, which meant requesting support from the cathedral, which meant an enormous donation. And so the train of thought that had begun with why did it have to be Evian — passing through why did the punitive expedition fail — was just arriving at why does my territory have to contain Evian at all when a knock came at the door.
"My lord, Bishop Pobi is here to see you."
At those words, Viscount Cartein, who had been groaning over his desk, jerked his head up. The Bishop was here? He hadn't summoned him. He'd been in the middle of agonizing over how to handle the whole affair when this news dropped out of the blue.
"Show him in."
The door opened without a sound, and a dignified man in white vestments stepped inside, smiling.
"Bishop Pobi. It has been far too long."
"The pleasure is mine, Viscount. Far too long indeed."
"Please, have a seat here. I'll have tea brought out."
"Thank you."
The maid bowed at the waist and withdrew to prepare the tea, and the Bishop shot a sidelong glance at her retreating back before settling onto the sofa as Cartein gestured him to. His frame was so imposing that even perching on the edge of it made the furniture creak.
That cost a fortune, you know... you pig.
The moment Cartein sat down on the sofa across from him, harboring exactly such thoughts, Pobi flashed an oily smile.
"You seem to be carrying quite a burden, my lord."
"...Is it that obvious?"
What was there to hide? It would show on his face regardless.
Cartein dragged a hand down his face and let out a long sigh. Pobi, for his part, kept his smiling expression. Best to keep a smile on — you can't spit in a smiling face, after all, and a smile beat a blank mask any day.
"It has not yet been definitively confirmed, but... if it proves true, do you intend to mount a subjugation?"
"I would have little choice, would I? If a demon has truly appeared, then we must report to the capital and request support."
They had already sent some forty adventurers, twenty knights from the standing order, and five priests — and couldn't even confirm anything. The moment the adventurers had entered, the door had slammed shut for reasons unknown, and the goat-headed monster that appeared on the second floor had inflicted heavy losses on them. With no way to re-enter while dragging the wounded along, the damage was done, compensation had been paid to the Guild, wages dispensed...
By every measure, Cartein had taken nothing but losses.
"In that case, it has been no small blow to you as well, my lord."
Appearing like a shadow, the maid set teacups down before the two men and slid silently away. A quick-witted girl.
'No small blow.' Pobi spared the maid one more sidelong glance, then lifted his teacup.
"What can I do? It can't be helped."
It would earn him the ugly reputation of a man too incompetent to manage even an incident in his own territory — but so what? Better to wear a stain on his name than to recklessly attempt a cleanup beyond his means and suffer even greater losses in the attempt.
"What if the cathedral were to actively assist you?"
"Assist me?"
Cartein looked up at Pobi. The Bishop, unreadable as ever, maintained that same smiling face. No matter how Cartein studied him, he could not fathom what Pobi stood to gain from making such an offer.
"I will dispatch the five priests to you as they are. And two more besides. Priestess Vigrind, and..."
"Priestess Vigrind, you say?"
It was a name he had heard before. Hair blazing like fire, a petite frame, and a mouth that was apparently rather foul — but her holy power and its handling were said to be overwhelming, truly without equal.
"Yes. As you know, my lord, she is quite famous. They say that if the adventurers' guild has Yona, then the cathedral has Priestess Vigrind."
Priests were a versatile class, capable of everything from purification to healing. Their price reflected it, and their treatment was of the very highest order. It was a class that could hardly be compared to healers — who could do nothing but heal, and even then only through direct contact.
"And I will send Sister Aize, the instructing nun, along with them."
— Excellent. I shall assemble a subjugation force at once.
He had worn the expression of a soul crawling up from hell to come face to face with the Heavenly God herself.
Pobi turned the viscount's expression over in his mind as the carriage carried him back toward the cathedral. Hadn't it been a smile so pathetic it drew a scoff straight out of him?
When the rumors of a demon's appearance first began to circulate, and when the punitive expedition was assembled, Pobi had been away on a brief retreat. And when he returned and heard the news, how he had beaten the ground in regret. Then came word that the subjugation had ended in failure — that they hadn't even determined whether the thing was truly a demon.
Pobi had rejoiced, declaring that the Heavenly God had not yet abandoned the Church.
The Heavenly God Religion. A faith that worshipped the Heavenly God. It had a Pope and a Saintess — a religion serving a god who truly existed. And yet while there was a Pope, there was no Saintess.
According to the oldest records, a Saintess named Sonia had married a black-haired hero and stepped down from her seat — and since then, the Heavenly God had never bestowed a revelation naming anyone as Saintess. Even so, the Church had carried on without issue. No Demon King had appeared, and though the continent had known its wars between men, no calamity threatening all of humanity had ever arisen.
And then, of all times, came the news that a demon had appeared.
If that demon is struck down—
It would be no dream at all for a Saintess to emerge from the Evian diocese.
Attach Aize — far too old for any talk of sainthood, and thoroughly washed up besides — and send Vigrind, the finest priestess in the Evian diocese at present, to purify the demon. Unless the Heavenly God's eyes had been screwed on crooked, She would hardly ignore the priestess who purified the first demon to appear on this long-peaceful continent. Vigrind would become Saintess. Without a doubt.
If the Evian diocese produced the Saintess — a seat left vacant ever since Sonia herself — then after the death of the current, aging Pope, what was to stop Pobi from ascending to that appointed throne?
It would happen. Most assuredly it would.
Pobi already felt as though he had become Pope.
"This is a person, right?"
"Looks like it. Definitely doesn't seem to be a demi-human, anyway."
Carlson and Yona peered down at the man sprawled on the ground. The dark brown-haired man lay with his eyes closed as though dead, but oddly enough, he didn't appear to be wounded anywhere. Still, just in case, Yona placed a hand on the man's chest and channeled her holy power.
The instant she did, his eyes snapped open.
The moment they did, his hand clamped around Yona's wrist — the very hand pressed against his chest — like a vice.
"GYAAAAH?!"
The grip was so powerful that for a moment she was certain her wrist had shattered. Yona shrieked and collapsed backward, and Carlson, seeing her go down, took a step back and drew his sword.
"Wh-what the hell is this guy?!"
But the man didn't spare Carlson so much as a glance. His gaze burned down at Yona, still slumped on the ground with her wrist caught in his grip, blazing hot as if a fire had been lit behind his eyes.
"Are you... a priestess?"
"L-let go...!"
It hurt. Her wrist felt like it was about to snap. Not that a broken bone would take long to heal — but for now, the pain alone was enough to twist Yona's face into a grimace.
"I said let go! Let go! Let GO, you bastard! Let go!"
Reduced to pounding her heel against the man's chest again and again, Yona might as well have been kicking a statue for all the reaction she got.
Then a sword blade came to rest against the man's throat.
"Hey. What do you think you're doing? Let go of Yona's hand."
Carlson threatened with his drawn blade, its edge flaring with such menace it looked ready to carve through the man's neck then and there. The man regarded the sword for a moment — then turned his eyes back to Yona, still thrashing and squirming.
"Let go! Let GO! I said it hurts!"
No matter how she thrashed, the man did not so much as twitch. He was carved from stone.
"Are you... the woman who wielded this holy power?"
"I'm not a woman—! L-let go first...!"
The man stared at Yona a while longer, then released his grip. She had been in the full swing of wrenching her hand free, so the sudden release sent her tumbling backward across the ground.
"There. Now put that toy away."
With his bare hand, the man smoothly pushed the sword aside. Absurdly enough, the blade Carlson had so carefully honed before setting out didn't so much as break the skin on the man's finger as it slid away.
"Who — who the hell are you?"
Carlson tightened his grip on his shield. Depending on the answer, combat could begin that very instant. At Carlson's glance, Yona scrambled behind him, while Irene and Viola — Miscot included — cautiously took up positions on Carlson's opposite flank.
"I am the Hero."
"...Wh-what?"
At an answer no one could possibly have anticipated, Carlson echoed it back in a dumbstruck voice. The man swept the hair that had fallen over his face up off his brow and answered, utterly matter-of-fact.
"The Hero. Hero. My name is Ludvik — call me Lud."
Another lunatic joins the pile.
So Yona thought.