Reunion with the Inquisitor (2)
During Friday's lab class, Arienael was deep in confusion. She was helping the alchemy undergrads beside her, subtly probing them bit by bit. About Professor Roger Atwill.
"Ah! Thank you so much for the help earlier, TA. We would've burned everything without you."
"No problem. Helping students during experiments is my job. We've got some time while this boils—mind if I ask you something?"
"Sure! Anything!"
Arienael asked about the thing that had been nagging at her. Professor Atwill's research in alchemy. So far, everything she'd learned about his achievements was heavily focused on spellcraft.
"Professor Atwill?"
"Yes."
"Has he done any alchemy research?"
It was an answer Arienael hadn't expected at all. She'd felt a growing unease as she dug deeper, but to hear it was completely unheard of?
"Have you heard anything?"
"Nope, no idea."
The two female alchemy undergrads clearly knew nothing about Atwill's research. Asking the male alchemy student nearby yielded no better results.
"The professor? I've heard he's an authority in spellcraft."
"What about alchemy?"
"You're talking about Professor Atwill, right? He's not an alchemy researcher, is he?"
The students' gazes toward Arienael started to turn a bit strange. It made sense—they were undergrads looking puzzled while she, his own grad student, was asking about her advisor's work. Pushing further would just draw Atwill's attention.
But... what the hell is going on?
Arienael had joined Atwill's lab to learn potion-making formulas, not for spell research. She hadn't even known he held such a high position in spellcraft. She'd chosen him solely for his potion alchemy skills. So she'd assumed he was renowned in alchemy too—but apparently, no one else knew.
Arienael had no choice but to be flustered.
Not trusting the students' words, she scoured every one of Atwill's published papers. Nothing. Even delaying yesterday's experiment to check his full publication list—no alchemy at all. Not a single one.
This can't be right.
It definitely wasn't a case of mistaken identity. Had she been too naive assuming his exceptional alchemy skills meant he'd researched the field? But what she'd seen before—that wasn't the level achievable as a mere hobby or side pursuit.
It has to be him.
No matter how many times she double-checked, suspecting she'd misidentified him, the results were the same.
Arienael had figured she'd have plenty of time to look into his past papers once she was in his lab anyway. A leisurely mindset afforded by her long-lived elven nature.
She tried to calm her mounting anxiety.
I never thought it'd be something achievable in a short time anyway.
And even if it wasn't published research, she was certain Atwill himself had done it. Nothing changed. She'd have found a way to connect with him regardless.
Arienael resolved to verify it later and dig deeper. About Professor Atwill's research—and about Roger Atwill the man himself.
I should've given her a heads-up beforehand. Who'd have thought she'd blurt that out right in front of Arienael.
"Yes! Professor Atwill last time..."
"Prudence!"
I cut her off quickly before the pointless chatter could continue. My voice came out louder than intended, but Prudence didn't even flinch—just smiled at me.
"Yes, Professor Atwill?"
Arienael's face showed no change. I couldn't read her thoughts.
"Oh, I was just wondering what brings you here today. Church business?"
"Nope. It's Sunday, after all. Believers only work six days a week—or you get punished."
Obviously a joke. I wouldn't call working five days a week blasphemy. But Arienael's expression soured for a split second before going blank again.
"Then why are you in priestess robes? Do you have to wear them even on days off?"
"I've got somewhere to be today. Heading to the Hardhill monastery to watch the kids."
"You work even on holidays. Must be tough."
"I enjoy it. Sure, it's tiring sometimes, but I do it because I love it."
Impressive. Looking after kids without a break and actually enjoying it. Monastery work must really suit her. Then again, Prudence probably didn't start as an inquisitor. Likely got drafted from regular priest duties. Probably worked at a church or monastery before.
"Do you go to Hardhill every week?"
"No. I've got other places to help too. I rotate around."
"How many?"
"Last week it was Honlake's monastery. Next week, another church in Hardhill. Occasionally I even head out of Rainplan."
Requests for support from churches everywhere? I voiced the question in my head, but she denied it simply.
"Just a hobby. The abbots try to dissuade me. And if I warn them ahead, they prepare a whole welcome—it's so burdensome. So I just show up unannounced."
This girl's surprisingly oblivious. No idea about clerical corruption around Traperon University... I felt a twinge of sympathy for Rainplan's priests and abbots. Random inquisitor drop-ins whenever she feels like it.
"Professor, want to join sometime when you're free? Arienael too! It'll be rewarding, I promise!"
"...That'd be tough. I'm allergic to bees."
"Kids' places keep the hives well-isolated. No worries for you, Professor."
"Er... um... Anyway, I'm swamped right now. I'll let you know if I find time."
Invited to church even as a professor. I'd rather read another paper. Prepping classes and overseeing Arienael's research left my own work in the dust. That's why I came to this university—my life's... well, saying "lifelong goal" sounds dramatic, but my top priority.
"Too bad. Definitely later?"
"Sure. Though it'll be tough for the foreseeable future."
Now or later—never happening. As I said goodbyes and tried to bolt, Prudence called me back.
"Oh, Professor! Forgot to mention—the talk with the dean last time? Report's already gone up."
"Any word?"
"No reply from the Papal Court yet."
Makes sense. No way it'd come that fast. Who knows how many approvals to reach that level.
"But good news: Up till now, the church's been filing warning indictments against you, right?"
"...Yes. Of course."
What the hell? Warnings? I pondered how to ask, but Arienael beat me to it.
"Warnings?"
"The church was quite wary of you, Professor Atwill. 'He's a valuable talent—warn him early before he crosses the line, get him to self-regulate.' That kind of consensus. That's why you've faced ten trials."
"Ten religious trials?"
Arienael sounded incredulous. More than that—did they mean well? Like, "this beating's for your own good"? I never asked for that consideration!
"My report this time should fix it. Now the church knows your true intentions. They won't bother sanctioning you over things others could slide on. Rest easy."
Damn zealots! Handling things like this? ....... Sigh... Fine. Let it go. Past injustices aside, things are different now. Means I can push boundaries a bit more without worry.
Once I composed myself, Prudence rushed off, muttering about being late. The abbot would prefer she never came.
"Professor?"
Once she was far enough her voice faded, Arienael called me. I could guess what was coming.
"Professor, ten trials?"
"No!"
Eleven, technically. But counting only times I stood as defendant? Under ten. Still, Arienael looked unconvinced. She was already seeing me as a pushover—disaster. No convictions, sure, but constant courtroom traffic doesn't look good. Time to correct the misunderstanding and salvage my dignity.
"Once, my youthful hot blood got the best of me. But that's all in the past."
"You're still young, Professor."
"In the Lord's embrace, I live a new life! I am now His faithful servant."
I put on my most pious, saintly face and spoke softly. The reaction was immediate. Utter revulsion.
"Ugh..."
"Don't you believe? Church brings peace of mind."
"Please, Professor—no one would buy that lie."
"What do you mean? What's wrong?"
"Whether you believe or not, I don't go. Not interested in the God of Light."
She hated it too—perfect chance to drive it home. I said what irks apostates most. What I'd hate hearing if positions reversed.
"Unbelievable! Yet the Lord still loves you."
"No, Professor! Haa... Can you just stop, please?"
"I'll pray for you."
A sight I'd seen often since taking her in the lab: an elf turning away, retching. Frequency rising—practically daily now. Not even a month together, and this?
"Professor, I was in your first lecture, remember?"
"Yeah?"
I knew. Why bring it up now?
"You said even pre-meal prayers ruin your appetite."
"......"
"You said it straight-faced to a full hall."
"That was..."
"Keep spouting nonsense, and I'll tell that nun everything. Word for word from that day."
Elves and their freakish memories for weird stuff. And grad students blackmailing professors with it. End times.
"Spare me that."
"We'll see."
"Prudence isn't just a nun—she's an Inquisitor! Tell her that, and it won't end in mere embarrassment."
"An Inquisitor?"
Arienael's face changed. Smile gone, eyes sharpening. I broke into cold sweat, brain racing for an out.
Did I just hand her another weapon? Damn it—shouldn't have spilled she's an inquisitor!
But weird—she wasn't reacting. Not moving, not even shifting her gaze. And it wasn't on me.
It was Prudence. The inquisitor's retreating back, already distant.
Staring at her, Arienael muttered to herself.
"Inquisitor..."
Colder than I'd ever heard her.