Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Heretic Inquisitor Recommendation
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It was called a recommendation on the surface, but its true intent was obvious.
‘They’re still suspicious.’
He didn’t know exactly why, but they clearly suspected Kallias.
However, since his status and position had changed, they were pretending to recommend him for Heretic Inquisitor while actually planning to interrogate him.
Once they interrogated him, it would be over.
They’d fabricate crimes out of thin air.
It was laughable.
No matter the reason, he wasn’t fool enough to fall for such a shallow trick.
“I appreciate the offer, but…”
Just as Kallias opened his mouth to speak.
Elbeton, who had been silently listening until then, spoke up.
“We’re grateful, but unfortunately, it won’t work.”
Elbeton’s voice was heavy.
It carried a hint of anger.
“May I ask the reason?”
Raiben asked, a touch of tension in his voice.
He had been wounded, but he was still the lord of the North.
The pillar of Karpe.
A knight one step from Master, deserving of respect.
Raiben wondered if Elbeton had seen through their intentions, but Elbeton gazed warmly at Kallias and continued.
“Kallias is Jerban House’s one and only eldest son. It’s time for him to begin his heir training.”
Kallias frowned at the inexplicable fondness in his eyes.
“What you mean is…”
“He’s the man who must bear the burden of Jerban House and the North. The succession ceremony isn’t far off, so becoming a Heretic Inquisitor will be difficult.”
Everyone present— the Heretic Inquisitor captains included—was stunned by Elbeton’s words.
Kallias was no exception.
‘This is a bit much.’
Becoming the heir? He’d somewhat expected that.
He had shown what he was capable of, after all.
Besides, with Killaban vanished into the earth or ascended to the heavens—who knew?—there was no reason to bring in another candidate. Naming him heir was the natural course.
‘But bringing up the succession ceremony?’
If that happened, he’d have no choice but to become Jerban House’s head.
As its master and inheriting the viscounty, it would be nothing but a hassle.
He couldn’t roam freely anymore; his every action would face restrictions.
Even his words and deeds would carry political undertones.
Of course, that was a concern for later, after some time passed. It was too early now.
For the moment, the wandering life of a pilgrim suited him better.
‘My traits are still a pain, and now they want me to lead the North?’
Ridiculous.
Kallias wasn’t the only one caught off guard; the Heretic Inquisitor captains were too.
They’d thought they had a clever plan, but Elbeton’s move left them speechless.
“Has the head not reconsidered yet…?”
“I took quite a deep wound in the last war. After brushing death, I find myself wanting to step back from the front lines and live quietly. Spending time with my grandchildren wouldn’t be bad either.”
Elbeton meant it.
The way he glanced subtly at Emily suggested nearly dying had changed his outlook.
So it was Kallias who grew urgent.
‘Maybe becoming a Heretic Inquisitor wouldn’t be so bad.’
But submitting to their will and facing interrogation came with its own headaches.
Even if he somehow got through it, they’d keep nitpicking.
Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
Kallias pondered briefly.
‘Fine. I’ll be coming to the North often anyway.’
There was Patalite’s holy site, where he’d planted Valterus’s Tears.
Even without that, trolls might still lurk in the valley beneath the Sinking Forest.
‘Besides, the North needs to grow stronger.’
Far stronger than now.
To resist the Empire’s coming invasion, they needed to bolster their military.
But staying holed up in the North wouldn’t save Karpe from ruin.
So.
“How about this?”
Kallias looked back and forth between Elbeton and Raiben.
“After the succession ceremony, I take on the Heretic Inquisitor role as well.”
“You mean…”
Heretic Inquisitor and master of Jerban House.
He could do both.
Each had pros and cons, but combining them left only advantages.
He wouldn’t be tied to the North, and as a Heretic Inquisitor, he’d face less baseless accusations of heresy born from envy.
Plus.
‘Cutting out Karpe’s rotten roots would save the kingdom.’
Wasn’t Heretic Inquisitor the perfect position for that?
And if he inherited the viscounty and became the North’s lord…
‘They wouldn’t dare mess with me lightly.’
Elbeton wouldn’t hand everything over right away anyway.
“No issues now, right?”
“…Yes. Of course.”
Raiben’s trembling cheek spoke volumes of his feelings.
* * *
Creak—clank.
In the castle’s office.
An awkward tension hung between Elbeton and Kallias.
They were as close as could be, yet felt infinitely distant because of it.
‘This reminds me of the old days.’
As a child.
He’d once played with fire at their rural home and burned the thatched roof to the ground.
‘Father looked just like this then.’
Like the calm before a storm.
Elbeton seemed to choose his words carefully, silent.
Yet his back betrayed a quiet fury he couldn’t hide.
As boredom set in from the wait.
“What are you thinking?”
Elbeton finally spoke.
“About what?”
“Holding a succession ceremony and becoming a Heretic Inquisitor! Inherit the viscounty, and you could receive a far weightier post.”
But a mere Heretic Inquisitor?
Elbeton frowned, unable to comprehend his son.
On the surface, Heretic Inquisitors rooted out and interrogated traitors for the kingdom.
In truth, they were just pawns entangled in church and royal politics.
It wasn’t a role for someone inheriting one of the kingdom’s rare viscountcies.
“Inheriting my seat makes you lord of the North and a viscount of the realm.”
“I know.”
“And knowing that, you declared before them you’d become a mere Heretic Inquisitor?”
“I chose it knowingly. And thanks to it, we made a fortune. You should be praising me, not scolding.”
“You know one thing but not two. There’s more to this world than money. Chase the honor our ancestors built, and money follows on its own…!”
Clenching his fist, Elbeton soon sighed deeply and slumped into his chair.
“Mind your words’ weight, Kallias. Your every word and deed builds or breaks Jerban House’s prestige.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“…Insolent brat. I thought you’d changed a little, but you’re the same.”
“Yes.”
His expression unchanging as he shot back—it was less infuriating than absurd.
‘True, it’s different from before.’
Not like the days when he’d waste away and peek at his reactions.
“I don’t know your thoughts. But… I won’t pry. Just don’t forget the North’s spirit burns in your chest, alongside our ancestors’ blood and sweat.”
With that, Elbeton pulled an ornate key from his bosom and tossed it.
Whoosh, catch.
A fairly large key.
It looked like stone, but clearly no ordinary item.
“What is it?”
“The key to the treasury holding our past heads’ treasures, handed down through generations.”
Jerban House’s heirloom.
He hadn’t handed over Kallias yet.
“You’re now Jerban House’s official heir. Pick what you want.”
Jerban House’s treasury.
‘To think he’d grant me this.’
A repository displaying artifacts used by past heads and the swords they wielded.
Only the most exceptional among past heads and direct heirs could enter.
“You’re the second of this generation.”
The first was probably.
“You wandered as a pilgrim, they say. Did you ever hear news of Violet?”
“No.”
“I see…”
Awkward silence fell.
Violet von Jervan.
Kallias’s younger sister.
‘By the setting, she left the house after I joined the church.’
Unlike her sword-talented eldest brother, she had no attachment to the blade. A wandering vagrant who abruptly left the kingdom.
Like a traveling merchant who gifted rare items if you built favor by chance encounter.
‘Probably in the Empire now.’
Given Violet’s nature.
Whether Karpe fell or the Empire did, she wouldn’t intervene. No need for Kallias to worry.
“Is that all?”
“Mm.”
Having received the treasury key, he wanted to escape this awkward air and see the heads’ swords as soon as possible.
As he grasped the door handle.
“Kallias.”
“…”
Turning back, Elbeton stood gazing out the window.
“Still, I want to say one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you sincerely for saving Jerban House and the North.”
“…Yes.”
Clank.
Kallias shut the door hastily, fleeing the uncomfortable mood.
Elbeton muttered alone.
“What do you think?”
An elderly man who’d been hidden revealed himself.
Jerban House’s head butler.
Nohtel.
“If we use the Heretic Inquisitors to turn all the orc corpses into Carcass Swords, the profits for us would be immense. Claiming seven parts as Carcass Swords and three as famed blades would net at least sixty thousand gold coins.”
“We can’t sell them all.”
“If we sell half the Carcass Swords excluding the famed blades, that’s over twenty thousand gold.”
“Twenty thousand gold. A fitting sum to bolster our lacking military.”
That amount could repair the broken walls and restore the North’s domains to some extent.
The famed blades could reward the knights who shone in the war—perfect.
War had emptied their coffers, but Kallias’s few words resolved it all. Elbeton’s lips twitched.
“And we still have the warlord’s corpse well-preserved, don’t we?”
“Indeed.”
Turning the warlord’s flesh into a Carcass Sword…
Wouldn’t it birth at least a Spirit-grade one?
Of course, it would be Kallias’s, but as the soon-to-be lord of the North, it made no difference.
“House head, you needn’t worry about the young master anymore.”
Elbeton’s perpetually stern face relaxed in an instant during their private talks.
“That boy takes after me after all. His silver tongue is infuriatingly sharp.”
“The power to face the orc warlord and turn crisis into maximum gain—it was like seeing you in your prime, house head.”
“Blood will tell, I suppose.”
His gruff face softened at the corners, which Nohtel didn’t miss.
“A bit late, but he’s finally taken on the bearing fit for Jerban House.”
“Nohtel.”
“Yes, house head.”
“Guide Kallias through the treasury’s treasures. Some are dangerous depending on use.”
Nohtel started.
The treasury held past heads’ treasures, each with history and power.
Choose beyond your station, and the regrets within could emerge, inflicting trauma—that was Jerban House’s treasury.
“Wasn’t the tradition no hints about the treasury?”
“They’ll all be his eventually. Why quibble?”
Nohtel’s lips twitched.
Pretending otherwise, but blood bent inward after all.
“Then.”
Butler Nohtel schooled his expression and left the office.