Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Cathedral's Verdict
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The capital of the Kingdom of Carpe, Caladi.
In the grand Valterus Cathedral towering over the kingdom, bishops from each branch had gathered.
Bang!
"No, those skewer-wielding fools are stirring up the north right now! And you're talking about dispatching Heretic Inquisitors to the west? What nonsense is this!"
It was Albatou, bishop of the moderate faction.
His shiny bald head flushed red as he spat out his tirade.
The reason was the radical faction's Bishop Milliman sitting across from him.
"That's why you keep losing your temper—your head's completely empty."
Veins bulged on Albatou's forehead.
"Those scraggly roots you call hair are just a nuisance anyway."
"Better to complain about having them than missing them altogether. Heh heh."
"If you don't want every last hair yanked out today, answer my question, Bishop Milliman!"
Bang!
At Albatou's gravity as he slammed the table, Milliman cleared his throat awkwardly.
"If we don't defend Carpe's north, the Church itself will crumble—it's obvious! So what's your reason for concentrating our limited manpower in the west?"
Bishop Milliman, unlike Albatou, smoothed back his thick mane of hair and long beard, replying as if it were the most natural thing.
"The north's always like that. It's monster breeding season, and the White Forest is kicking up a fuss as usual. Plus, unlike the west, there's no solid evidence of heathens showing up there."
Bishop Milliman and the radical faction bishops beside him all nodded in agreement.
"Hmm..."
Regrettably, his words rang true.
The north was barren land, crawling with snow and monsters year-round.
Even the Valterus pilgrims mad for the sword rarely made the pilgrimage there devoutly.
So gathering precise information was always a distant dream, and the "evidence" the radicals cited was never clear-cut.
"But the west is different. Reports have already come in of heathen traces there."
And moreover.
"The unclear fate of Arsando, whom we sent to Torett—look at the sacred relic of Valterus's divinity, Acushium, and you'll see."
One of the Valterus Church's sacred relics.
Acushium.
Bishop Albatou gazed at the Acushium placed in the center of the massive round table.
‘The sacred light bearing the miracle of Sword God Valterus, Acushium.’
In the center of the round table's concave circle, water filled the basin.
Countless multicolored lights floated over the map of the kingdom marked by ripples. Lights of various colors denoting holy power grades indicated pilgrims' positions.
Bishop Milliman pointed to the west, the Torett region.
"Arsando is undoubtedly a 5th-grade pilgrim in holy power. But we all know his swordsmanship and holy power are far beyond what that grade suggests."
Yet.
"Arsando is dead."
Arsando's light had vanished last night.
"Whether he went to the god's side or became a carcass sword, it's unclear."
"But Bishop Milliman, there were two lights in Torett. If one vanished, it could have been a duel of swords."
Duel of swords.
When pilgrims crossed blades to test each other's skills and determine a victor.
In name only—it was just a polite term for the maimings caused by obsession with forging superior blades.
But even at Albatou's rebuttal, Bishop Milliman pointed once more to the single remaining light in Torett.
"This light is Kallias's."
"Kallias!?"
"That wastrel from House Jerban?"
Milliman nodded slowly.
"You've all heard the stories, at least."
Kallias von Jerban.
Heir to Jervan Count, tyrant of the north.
Eldest son of the swordsmanship noble house Jerban.
And.
"That House Jerban wastrel."
"Indeed. Pilgrim Kallias was quite infamous within the Church."
Kallias von Jerban.
His father, Jervan Count—the sharp sword of the north—had entrusted his eldest son to the Valterus Church, hoping for their care.
The Church rejoiced at the massive donations but soon wore grim faces.
Kallias's wastrel antics exceeded all imagination.
"A wastrel among wastrels, a filial ingrate—Kallias was a massive headache in the Church."
Moderate faction Bishop Albatou recalled five years ago.
‘The discarded eldest son of House Jerban.’
Despite being the heir of the famed swordsmanship house Jerban, he had no talent for the blade, only the arrogance and bravado typical of nobles—utterly hopeless.
No ability whatsoever, yet he lorded over the Church's commoner ascetics using his family name.
And that was just the start.
He relentlessly tormented ascetics who fell out of his favor, using every vile method to humiliate them, driving countless to leave the Church.
Not content with that, Kallias gathered the noble youths who had joined the Church and roamed as a pack, committing every evil under the sun.
When he became a pilgrim and set off on his journey, the entire Church had joyfully celebrated his departure, rolling out the red carpet.
"To think he's still alive..."
"Pardon?"
"N-no, nothing."
Albatou covered for his slip of the tongue.
"But what does that have to do with anything? Arsando's death, Kallias's presence—why does that lead to sending Heretic Inquisitors?"
At Albatou's words, Bishop Milliman nodded and replied.
"Bishop Albatou."
"What?"
"Do you think Kallias could have crossed swords with Arsando and won?"
"That..."
Impossible.
Kallias, utterly talentless in swordsmanship, couldn't beat Arsando even in death.
Arsando was a promising talent among the Church's pilgrims.
How could Kallias defeat him?
He even had losses against ascetics half his age in spars.
His skill was on par with those young ascetics.
For him to beat Arsando?
"I see it as impossible."
It was absurd.
"But..."
"Of course, it could have been an accident. But over that slim chance, I trust the prior reports and affirm the existence of heathens."
"The implication being..."
Kallias and heathens.
A sinister suspicion that something linked them.
"Do you remember Luteon, the marquis's heir who ran with Kallias?"
"I do."
A wastrel matching Kallias, so of course.
"Luteon's light vanished recently."
"Such a thing..."
"But recent reports say Luteon lives. And in his hands, a spear instead of a sword."
"No way!!"
Sword God, Valterus.
Spear God, Lactus.
"Luteon apostatized."
Crash!!
Albatou's chair scraped loudly in shock.
Luteon matched Kallias as a wastrel, but his swordsmanship was genius-level.
For him to apostatize!
"He became a heathen of Spear God Lactus."
To pledge to an arch-enemy god and become a heretic! Regret turned to seething rage.
"So what of Kallias?"
"You're saying Kallias likely apostatized too?"
"Yes. And the west is rife with heathen traces. The last place apostate Luteon appeared was also the west."
Radical faction Bishop Milliman claimed Kallias had contacted heathens and killed Arsando.
"Arsando was on a mission regarding a possible sacred relic buried in Torett. We can't take his death lightly."
A man who shouldn't die in a heathen-infested place had died.
Suspicion was inevitable.
The logical conclusion.
"I, Milliman, judge Kallias's apostasy likely! I propose dispatching Iron Heretic Inquisitor Ryban to Torett!"
"Hmm..."
Round table.
Among the bishops seated around Acushium.
None could refute Milliman's view.
‘Iron Heretic Inquisitor Ryban...’
Albatou shook his head.
Their faith was unquestionable, but Heretic Inquisitors were infamous for their excess.
Albatou thought the moment an inquisitor met Kallias, apostate or not, the outcome would be the same.
* * *
At the same time.
Torett lord's castle.
"Urghhh."
Kallias shook his head and downed a shot of grape wine, letting out a hearty exclamation as he savored the clinging alcohol burn.
"What're you staring at? I'm just drinking my parents' blood."
"......"
Leonie sat across from him, smirking as if to say, "Just call it wine."
Dozens of empty plates piled beside him, and the massive oak barrel once full of wine now lay empty.
Leonie gazed at Kallias with eyes full of admiration.
"No dessert? My mouth's parched."
Finances were already tight.
But he was her benefactor, so she'd emptied her pockets to treat him...
"Dessert..."
She glanced around; the servants frantically shook their heads.
Nothing left to serve Kallias, and more food meant bankruptcy.
"None? Leoneri fooled me. She said if I made her a carcass sword and returned her to her family, they'd feast me royally..."
"My mother's name is Leonie, Pilgrim."
"Ah, right. The booze's already twisting my tongue."
Ahem. Kallias cleared his throat and rose from the plate-strewn table.
"Where to?"
"Not hungry anymore. Thinking of strolling the nearby forest."
"Pardon? Not hungry after..."
What were all those plates then?
Leonie couldn't fathom Kallias's stomach.
"You found a mine? I want to see it."
"How did you...? It's top secret—even the outside mercenaries barely know."
Arsando Mirinae wiped out the bandits and found their cave hideout.
Realizing it wasn't just any cave but a mine with ore, Leonie developed it, turning Torett into a prosperous western city.
‘That's the setting I gave it.’
What came after was unknown.
Rejected by the company, revised on feedback, hundreds of times.
Whose story was it anymore? Ten years in, who knows. Plus, Pilgrim of the Sword was a game.
His writings got tweaked and reflected bit by bit, so minute details were glossed over.
‘Time to check.’
How those glossed parts played out.
"Leonie."
"Yes, Pilgrim Kallias."
"Kallias is fine."
"Yes! Kallias."
"I've received a divine revelation."
"D-divine revelation!!"
Leonie's eyes widened round.
"To watch over Torett. As a son of the god, I must inspect the mine here."
"I knew it!"
"......Huh?"
"From the perfect timing saving me, I've thought so all along! Kallias, you're Valterus's messenger! The god's saint!"
"Uh... something like that."
Convenient misunderstanding, but her gaze was intense.
"...Guide me to the mine. Might be monsters, so I'll check it out."
"Ah! Yes!"
At Kallias's feigned generosity, Leonie believed him utterly and led him to Torett's mine.
Moments later.
Staring at something in the mine, Kallias's face twisted.
"Why is this here...?"
Before him bloomed a medicinal herb the Church had lost.
Valterus's Tears—the ingredient for holy water.