Hyde, Obstructed by the Black Knights #2
It was an ordinary house, the kind you could find anywhere in the city.
But soldiers in black cloaks stood guard with iron vigilance.
Whoever was locked inside must have been someone of considerable importance.
"Master!"
Psyche.
She cried out at the sight of her master Midnar confined within the house, her voice thick with both joy and worry.
Midnar, who had been sitting near a worn table, brightened at the sight of Psyche.
"Psyche!"
"What happened? Why are you locked up in a place like this, Master? Lady Lucy has been thrown in prison too! They say she's going to face a witch trial and be burned at the stake!"
"What? Burned at the stake? These bastards— Has Gregory finally decided to erase every last trace of himself? That Roland, what the hell is he thinking…!"
Abbess Midnar slammed her fist down on the table with a thunderous bang, her face twisted with fury.
Watching this, Milione frowned.
"Then why don't you just overpower the soldiers and make a run for it? Someone of your caliber should have no trouble taking down the guards at the entrance, right?"
A thought so very like Milione.
How delightful life would be if everything could be solved by the logic of force alone.
Fortunately, Psyche explained in my place before I had to wear out my tongue.
"The Black Knights and Sir Roland have been granted full authority over this entire province of Palchea. To oppose them would be no different from making an enemy of His Holiness the Pope and raising a banner of rebellion against God Himself."
Their power is simply too vast.
Even if we escaped from here and reclaimed Lucy—
What then?
We'd spend the rest of our lives on the run, forever fleeing the endless tide of Black Knights.
Of course, even Milione seemed to understand that much.
"So we just die like this? Wouldn't it be better to spend our lives fighting on the run? Religious types and their thinking—always so stuffy and inefficient."
That was a fair point too.
Once you put on a social mask, there are far too many laws and regulations you have to obey.
Even I, when called by the name Hyde, often found myself feeling stifled in all sorts of ways.
It was only natural, of course—
"I don't care for their methods. Abbess Midnar. Would you entrust this matter to me?"
"Priest Hyde, what do you intend to do? Raise a banner against the Black Knights and the Pope?"
"Who knows."
"Hyde!"
Psyche was greatly startled by my casual words.
She grabbed my arm and pulled.
"To raise a banner against His Holiness the Pope—Hyde, isn't that far too reckless? This might not end with a simple reprimand or imprisonment!"
"Do not worry, Psyche. I shall carefully manage things so that neither you nor my family, the Agarpe estate, suffers any harm. Now then, I shall go offer a prayer for a moment."
Heretics.
And cultists.
They loved being bound within a great enclosure.
Their sense of belonging was strong, their bonds tight.
So they often established signs by which they could recognize one another.
Creak, creak—.
A dilapidated, ancient chapel in a secluded slum.
The horizontal beam of a swaying cross.
"So this is the sanctuary of the heretics."
A crossroads where every manner of heretic, cultist, and villain gathered, one might say?
Entering the chapel, I found a gloomy atmosphere and many people seated in chairs, drinking.
A tavern converted from a chapel.
Truly a symbol of blasphemous corruption.
"Sex."
At that single word spoken indoors, the gazes of the rough-looking men snapped toward me at once.
"Look at that guy."
"He's wearing a red cross mask."
"Rust?"
Even here in Palchea, the name of the red cross mask seemed famous. Well, the man who burned down the Grand Cathedral, murdered Archbishop Coramdeo, and raped Archibold's daughter—
Was there anyone else in this Allied Kingdom lately who stirred up as much trouble as I did?
"Isn't he another fake like those guys last time?"
"I heard the real Rust is a three-meter giant."
"They said he has two dicks."
I'm so famous that every kind of rumor is circulating.
Right then—
"I-It's the real one! I, Hans, who took part in the Grand Cathedral arson, can tell! I was there for everything—from the Voltaire baronial house to the Grand Cathedral fire to the assassination of Archbishop Coramdeo! That man is the real deal!"
"Hans, is that true?"
A soldier who was at the wedding of Voltaire and Orleans?
To find him in this sanctuary of heretics—he'd completely fallen into corruption.
I sat down casually in a chair.
Swoosh—.
Someone approached me.
She wore leather clothes, her blonde hair cut short like a man's, her face covered in tattoos and piercings.
"So you're the real Rust? Is that erect dick of yours real too? Or are you just stuffing a wooden club in there and pretending, like that guy last time?"
A thoroughly vulgar and crude woman.
The people around her stirred at the sight of her.
"It's Ishtar, the witch of Walpurgis."
"I heard she's a big shot among big shots, with a bounty of thirty gold coins."
Ishtar, the witch of Walpurgis.
A terrifying woman.
I seemed to recall rumors of her eating the corpses of people she'd killed.
"You. You know you've been making too much noise lately, right? Think you're something special?"
Swoosh—.
The witch's finger touched my mask.
Daring to touch my mask with hands that looked like they hadn't been washed—
The crowd around us began to murmur.
"Rust, you scared or something?"
"It was all bluster after all. The real villains are the witches of Walpurgis."
"A guy like Rust wouldn't even be a match for the Black Knights."
What the fuck?
I'm a second-rate villain who couldn't even match the Black Knights?
I rose from my seat.
Scrape—.
As I stood, I naturally looked down at Ishtar, who was about a head shorter than me.
Ishtar looked slightly flustered.
"You're bigger than I expected. In more ways than one—"
"This cunt of a bitch dares to face me, Rust, the Living Devil, without stripping and prostrating herself! Every woman in this kingdom is my slave! You insolent creature are guilty!"
Grab—!
I reached out and seized Ishtar's breast.
A larger chest than expected clung to my hand beneath the leather clothes.
Squeeze—!
"Eeyaagh!"
Ishtar collapsed in shock.
Women, when their breasts are firmly seized, become unable to move.
Even those who call themselves witches are no exception.
"Hwahaha! Your mouth is running free! Taste it with that mouth of yours! Whether this is real or fake!"
I thrust my heated cock toward Ishtar's face.
At that sight, Soldier Hans cried out.
"Th-That is the second hellish punishment written on the second line of the third paragraph of The Non-Virgin—'Udder Milking' and 'Entrance Sealing'! When any woman has her breasts firmly fondled by Lord Rust, she becomes completely helpless! It was all true!"
"Kwahahaha! Behold, all of you! This is the proper use of a woman! A woman is a creature with no purpose other than bearing a man's child and meekly offering her breasts! If there are noisy women about, fondle their breasts and shove your cock in their mouths!!!"
I vigorously groped the breasts of Ishtar, who had collapsed on the floor.
My fingers, trained through years of piano accompaniment during every service.
Unable to endure that finger's teasing, the witch Ishtar trembled all over.
"Aahng, s-stop—!"
"Behold this bitch's moans! No matter how high and mighty a wench pretends to be, her essence lies in being pinned beneath a man! Now spread your legs. I shall thrust my one-meter Holy Spear Rust into you."
Swoosh—.
I seized the legs of the witch Ishtar collapsed on the floor and spread them.
Then I threw myself on top of her, crushing her body with my weight.
"Now, I'll drive it straight through your clothes. Relax your body! I shall impregnate you with the seed of my sin."
"Stop it! I-If something like that goes in, I-I'll die! I'll die!"
Ishtar was startled and, squeezing out every ounce of strength, rose from the floor, left only the words "J-Just you wait!" and fled. Fortunate for me as well. I had no intention of breaking the virginity I'd carefully preserved on a non-virgin like her!
Watching this, Hans cried out.
"Ama—amazing. Driving away a witch of Walpurgis in less than a minute. As expected, all the legends and stories about Lord Rust were true! My own dick actually grew a centimeter! And I've gotten more popular with women too!"
"What? Holy shit! Lord Rust! Please accept me as your disciple! I'll offer you every last coin I have!"
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaah!!!"
In an instant, the scene transformed into a cauldron of frenzy.
I pulled out a sheet of paper I'd kept in my sleeve.
Soldier Hans saw it.
Hans's face, painted with a red cross in dye, was colored with shock.
"Lord Rust, could that—is that a new holy scripture?"
"Indeed. The title of this work is—"
"It's noisy. What's going on?"
Night.
At an hour when everyone should have been asleep, the clatter of military boots and the clink of armor spread through every corridor and alley.
Psyche, who had been surveying the situation with me in the inn's first-floor tavern, trembled.
"Hyde, while you were off praying, Rust appeared in Palchea! We thought he'd gone quiet these past few days. The Black Knights are moving to find him, but they're clashing with the heretics who follow Rust."
No sooner had Psyche finished speaking than Milione cackled.
"That's not all. Look at this! Rust's book, NTR! This thing is being scattered all over the alleys of Veneto! It'll probably spread across the entire kingdom within a week! The impact is going to be huge!"
Rust's third novel, NTR.
Its impact seemed considerable.
Soon Psyche frowned and clicked her tongue as well.
"It's truly horrific content. Knights in black armor pretending to be righteous while latching onto women and snatching other men's women left and right. Especially the protagonists, Nicalas and Relang—they're the absolute worst! 'Bad boys'? They're just trash!"
Psyche was right.
The protagonists of the new work NTR were the knight Nicalas and his superior, Sir Relang.
They were so-called 'bad boys'—men so popular that women went mad for them—but in reality, they were freaks who treated women like tools, using them as they pleased and discarding them.
"The most vile part is that Relang and Nicalas specifically target married women and women who already have lovers! Especially the scene where they hand flowers to women while thinking of them as, well, human genitalia—that's truly the worst…"
Psyche covered her mouth with her hand.
She seemed to feel nauseous.
But Psyche.
Don't you know the content of a story published less than a day ago a little too well?
"How do you know it in such detail?"
"To face Rust, that man, one must know about him! But I regret it! I want to gouge out my own eyes and wash them clean!"
So that was it.
Truly, Psyche was the material of a saintess who knew how to sacrifice herself to confront evil.
Clack—.
Then the door of the inn's tavern opened.
Soldiers draped in black cloaks entered the tavern.
"I am Bordeaux, a decurion of the Black Knights! We are collecting the papers that man Rust has been scattering! Anyone who possesses these papers or copies and distributes them without authorization will be punished by the Black Knights. Hey, you! Hand over that paper!"
"Get lost! You bastards! Not content with stealing women, now you want to steal paper too?"
"You criminal bastards! I've hated how you criminal scum swagger around since way back! You sons of bitches! Give me back my horse that you stole! Who's going to compensate me for my horse?!"
"Fuck, last year that Philip in the black cloak ran off with my wife!"
The patrons in the tavern began to grow very angry.
The Black Knights.
Perhaps they resented how former criminals were doing better than honest commoners who had lived upright lives?
There were surely soldiers who had committed crimes while wearing black cloaks.
People must have had grievances against them.
Rust's NTR had merely sparked a tiny flame against their discontent and rage.
"Hey, you! Woman! Hand over that paper! Now! If you refuse, we'll consider it blasphemy against Sir Nicholas and Sir Roland and arrest you!"
A soldier draped in a black cloak.
One of them approached Milione.
"I am Decurion Bordeaux! Hand over that paper!"
"What's this? This is mine, you know? Do you even know who I am?"
Milione, who had been reading the paper with interest, scowled fiercely—and as the soldier reached out, I called out softly.
"Brother, are you laying hands on a woman right now? A man who claims to have repented of his criminal past and begun a new life—are you intimidating a defenseless woman and trying to overpower her?"
"Huh? What kind of idiotic nonsense is that! We're just trying to confiscate literature that slanders Sir Roland and Sir Nicholas!"
"Why? Does this story somehow become the story of Sir Roland and Sir Nicholas? The protagonists of the story are not Roland but Relang, and not Nicholas but Nicalas, are they not?"
"Wh-What—"
"Indeed, it seems the contents written in the story were realistic and specific enough to call yourselves to mind? If you confiscate the books like this, rumors will spread: that Nicholas and Roland had something to feel guilty about, and so they ordered the books confiscated—"
The man who had called himself Decurion Bordeaux was greatly flustered.
Whether he was a former bandit or mountain bandit, did a nobody like him think he could handle me?
Then a soldier behind him shouted.
"Captain Bordeaux! We don't have time to listen to this nonsense! We must follow orders! Young lady, hand over that paper! Regrettably, we may have to use force!"
"Kyaaah! This guy, wh-where do you think you're touching!"
"What are you touching!"
"I already have a husband! I'm Hyde's second wife right here! This guy is trying to NTR me!"
Milione seemed to have just said something rather insane, but a woman's scream was highly effective. Everyone who had been drinking rose from their seats, gripping cups or picking up clubs.
Bordeaux finally squeezed his eyes shut and shouted.
"Re-Retreat. Retreat for now."
At last the soldiers withdrew.
Right now, incidents like this must be erupting simultaneously all over the place.
Not quite checkmate—but it could be considered a rather sharp move.
The real highlight would come at tomorrow's trial, though.