Ties with the Pope's Knight
Making connections with the Pope's knight was definitely going to be helpful. The Holy Empire already wielded immense power through its Celestial Church priests. Friendship with one of the Pope's knights couldn't possibly be useless. Through Sir Rshah, he could fire off an excommunication beam—or block one coming his way. Sir Rshah had reached out first, trusting Ian, so there was no reason to kick that hand away.
Well, at least for the time being, he needed Sir Rshah as a shield against any potential black mages lurking around.
"This is bad, sir."
Ian had planned to investigate the village with Sir Rshah. But a soldier out on reconnaissance had spotted undead outside the village.
"Flesh giants."
"Damn it."
Flesh giants. Monstrosities stitched together from the bodies of the dead—undead so powerful they were practically living weapons.
Sir Rshah pulled Ian aside discreetly and said, "To be honest, I don't think the one who made these undead around here is Maria."
"Why not?"
"Just a hunch."
In other words, pure speculation. But Ian found himself subtly convinced by Sir Rshah's words. Why? Because even the same statement sounds plausible coming from an insider, but like total bullshit from a total outsider. Kids, the real loner's got something to say~ Yeah, right. But words from a handsome knight like Sir Rshah carried surprising weight.
...Okay, truth be told, it wasn't just his looks. Ian trusted the man's experience. Sir Rshah was both a knight and a cleric—a medieval super-elite with brawn and brains in equal measure. He'd faced plenty of black mages, so his instincts weren't something to dismiss lightly.
"But certainty is dangerous. We must thoroughly check even the slightest possibility."
True to his elite status, Sir Rshah was still preaching 'gather evidence first!'
"Sir Rshah, did you go to university by any chance?"
"Hm? I did attend Vautrice University."
Jackpot. As expected. His speech dripped with intellect. Sir Rshah was a university man, no less. A knight with a medieval college degree!
"I was taught by a certain monk there. He said all thoughts must have basis, backed by clear evidence anyone would accept."
"Was that monk by any chance Brother William?"
"...William? Never heard of him."
Ian shrugged. He'd half-hoped the guy was connected to the monastery serial killer case.
"Anyway, I think I need to investigate the surroundings more."
"Ah."
In short, Sir Rshah was handing Ian the easier job. 'Real' necromancer prowling the village outskirts vs. a frail girl locked in the village. Classic manly trait: charging headfirst into the tough stuff. Sir Rshah wanted to scout the perimeter for his main duty. But they couldn't just leave Maria unattended.
"The village chief has already requested a trial from the lord, apparently."
"A trial?"
Trial meant execution. Ian was a bit dumbfounded. These were the kind of scum who'd slap 'criminal' on Maria's forehead and call it a day—now they wanted a trial? They were just squeamish about executing a necromancer themselves, so they'd tossed it to the lord. Probability: over 10,000%.
"The investigation... we can wrap it up before the lord arrives."
Sir Rshah said it lightly. And honestly, it wasn't a deep dilemma. Maria was a murderer regardless of necromancy. Necromancer or not, she'd hang either way.
"I leave it to you."
"Consider it done."
Ian exchanged a leisurely handshake with Sir Rshah. The lord would probably show up in a few days. And Maria? The noose, obviously. But Ian stayed relaxed. It wasn't his head on the block. Just play it safe, rack up some points with Sir Rshah, and done.
After Sir Rshah and the soldiers vanished to search the village outskirts, Ian got down to serious investigating.
#
"First, let's assign tasks."
There were a few days' leeway, and it wasn't like he was super motivated. But since he'd started, might as well do it right. To gather info as fast as possible, Ian mobilized the Ian Company employees.
Belenca first.
"You and I will check the house where Maria worked."
"Got it."
Belenca's biggest asset? That monstrous longsword. Commoners had a hard time lying to a knight who could lop off heads like chopping veggies.
"Kira, go meet the village chief. Find out when and how Maria supposedly used necromancy."
"Leave it to me."
Kira had a knack for sweet-talking people. She'd scammed as a fake mage for years—grilling a chief for info was child's play. Kira would extract something useful.
"What about me?"
"..."
Juabil pointed at himself with a pot-lid-sized finger. A giant over two meters tilting his head was horrifyingly cute...
"Juabil, I've got a very important mission for you."
"Important mission!"
Juabil's eyes sparkled. Ian gave the command with the vibe of tossing a treat to a retriever...
"Go make friends with the local kids."
"Kids?"
Juabil wasn't dumb—he got it. Go play with the kids and ask about Maria... but not quite.
"Yeah. Once you're buddies, ask about Maria..."
"Who's Maria?"
"...Too fast. Just make friends first."
High-level intel from Juabil was a stretch. But kids' gossip? Doable. Don't underestimate him—he had the intellect of a child, but as an adult.
"Yep! Off to make friends!"
Juabil lumbered away with heavy thuds. Ian worried some hunter might mistake him for a monster and loose arrows.
"I'll head out too."
Kira flashed a wink and vanished. With that beauty and mage backstory, intel-gathering was a breeze for her.
"Well then... shall we?"
Ian and Belenca headed to Maria's former workplace.
#
Maria was an orphan. An orphan! To a modern person, that screamed societal collapse, the dark ages where justice and humanity had vanished.
And... yeah, that's exactly what happened here...!
This was the real dark ages, where society had actually crumbled. Or rather, it collapsed centuries ago and still hadn't recovered. So, call it the Dark Ages (ongoing).
In this dark age (or medieval era), orphans were as common as roadside pebbles. And most got no protection. No matter the hardships or injustices, they had to rise like wild roses or dandelions—on their own.
"Come on in~"
Ian knocked on the door of a spacious home, pondering. If Maria was a necromancer, she had dozens of reasons to turn to it. Starting with orphan—game over. How much suffering, how much bullying? Ian, with his own pitch-black hair, oddly empathized with her pain...
Maria wasn't the monster. This society made her one...!
"??? What crazy bastard's yelling 'come in' like—"
The door flew open, and a grubby man burst out. He froze at the sight of Ian. Plain traveler clothes... but black hair, black eyes. Plus staff and raven...!
Unless his eyes were wrong, this wasn't your average traveler.
"Uh... uh?"
"Nice to meet you. I'm Ian Eredis Raven, a passing mage."
"M-Mage... sir?!"
Ian shamelessly extended a hand. The man shook it in confusion.
"Yeah. I'm here to ask about a girl named Maria."
"W-Wait a sec!"
Clatter and crash from inside, then the door cracked open.
"Aigoo! Such an esteemed guest in our humble home!"
"...?"
Reverse world? Ian snapped back to reality. Ugh, past-life memories still haunted him!
"Sit here, sir!"
The man's house was impressive for a commoner. Table and chairs? A bed?! Wow, was this 'Medieval Hilton'? Ian recalled staying in Damon 'self-proclaimed' Baron's domain. Compared to those pigsty shacks, this place looked worth billions!
"..."
Suddenly, sage mode hit Ian... This was a 'nice house' in this era...?
"Nice place."
"Ah, yes. I'm a carpenter..."
DIY heaven.
"You lazy hag! We have a guest! Whip something up quick!"
Manly... or not? Even in barbaric medieval times, yelling at your wife looked bad. But Ian soon noticed the woman's dire state.
"Sob... hic..."
Her face was streaked with tears. She'd been crying for a while.
"It's fine, Mom. I'll do it."
Her daughter took over the kitchen. Soon, honey cakes appeared before Ian. Father and daughter sat in the chairs.
"You wanted to ask about Maria?"
"Yes. Tell me everything you know."
He knew it was bias, but worst case, Maria could be an infiltrator mage. Even a chronomancer like Larabel nearly wrecked a domain solo. Like Sir Rshah said, thorough was better.
"Haa... Fine. Thinking of that wench still turns my stomach, but I'll tell you."
"...I heard the story. Sorry about your son."
The man nodded gloomily.
"Yes... Maria. That witch..."
Maria had confessed cleanly before. She'd killed her employer's son.
"What exactly happened?"
The man spoke slowly.
"About a year ago, I took her in as a maid. Didn't want to, but the chief threatened me..."
He was Robert the carpenter. A year ago, he'd hired Maria as a housemaid. He'd disliked her from the start.
"That kid had this weird look in her eyes, you know? Kinda slutty. And that jet-black hair—how ominous!"
Ian blankly pointed at his own hair. Is he talking about me?
Belenca sighed. "Think before you speak."
"No, I mean...!"
"Just continue the story."
Gulp. Robert swallowed dryly.
"She was off."
"Off how?"
"Yeah! She'd visit graves alone! Mutter to herself! And sometimes... she'd devour food like a possessed beast!"
The first two made sense. Classic loner traits...
Unlike Easterners, Westerners weren't as spooked by graves. They even built memorial parks in city centers. Grave visits didn't prove necromancy. Muttering? Forget it.
The problem was the last one.
"Devoured food?"
"Yes! No idea why. She'd shovel it like a ghost had her... Beat her all I wanted, she wouldn't stop."
"..."
How much did she eat to deserve beatings?
"So... you knew Maria was weird."
"Yes. When she killed my son with necromancy, I thought, 'Knew it was coming.'"
"Details. How'd she kill him?"
Robert paused, as if afraid to speak it.
"That wench lured my son to the forest... then possessed a ghoul and slashed him with claws."
"...Possessed?"
Bam! Robert slammed the table in agitation.
"If not necromancy, how does a scrawny girl tear my son to shreds?!"
Fair point. Possessing undead to fight was a necromancer's style.
The story: Maria lured Robert's son, then used a prepped ghoul to kill him.
'But...'
Ian sensed something off.
'Maria said she blacked out. Woke up to a dead body...'
Maybe she wasn't a skilled necromancer... but a victim of a 'necromancy accident,' accidentally tangled in the mystery and possessed?
'Then it's not her fault.'
Ian shook his head. Too little info for conclusions.