My Name Is?
“……Honestly, this bastard should have become a con artist instead of a knight.”
That was the one sentence Arthur managed to squeeze out through the communication orb, after listening to the whole situation unfold.
Frankly, he'd been half in disbelief at first.
The lunatic had planned this from the very beginning — he'd asked the imperial mages to inscribe an illusion spell onto the magic crystal he always carried, one that could alter his appearance.
Of course, "altering his appearance" only amounted to changing his hair color. They'd assumed that alone couldn't possibly conceal his identity completely.
No — in truth, it couldn't.
Unless the mastermind behind this insane stunt happened to be Arendt von Eckhart.
Hearing that guileless, gentle voice drift through the crystal orb gave them goosebumps. How could a mouth that usually spewed nothing but venomous insults and teeth-grating remarks produce a tone that meek?
Richt answered with a complicated expression.
“No. If anything, it's a blessing he became a knight.”
Because that uncanny talent of his could now be put to public use.
If they'd turned that creature loose on society, he would have inevitably matured into a world-class swindler, churning out hundreds of fresh victims every single year.
That gift of his — swapping his face and becoming an entirely different person — was astonishing every time he witnessed it.
The knights let out a long, collective sigh.
It proved useful every time, sure. But the same question always drifted through their heads.
Really…… is this okay?
At this point, they almost felt sorry for the guard captain who was being treated to such warm hospitality.
Laios, pressing his brow hard to quell an oncoming migraine, finally spoke.
“We should head to our own position as well.”
While Arendt ran wild, the rest of them had work of their own to do.
This time, the concept was "a faithful, harmless young man." The model was the innocent, wide-eyed trainee priests he'd observed on his few visits to the temple.
For lines, the scripture of God Luce he'd been devouring lately would more than suffice.
He'd played devoutly praying characters plenty of times in his past life, so none of this would be difficult.
As he was escorted in by the guard captain, he casually swept the cityscape with his eyes. The shattered statue — his own handiwork — was now shrouded under an enormous cloth.
Outsiders rarely set foot in this city, so they'd apparently left the damage as it was. But after Declan's sudden visit, it seemed they'd belatedly cleaned up the mess.
‘So they do have some sense left in them after all.’
As he moved along, he quietly activated the video recording stone he'd tucked into his coat alongside the communication orb.
He played the part, glancing around with artless curiosity, and before long the guard captain — who had introduced himself as Scott — brought him a warm cup of tea.
“How is it?”
“It's lovely. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
Arendt nodded with a gentle smile that would have made his comrades recoil in horror.
The captain settled into the seat across from him and began gravely.
“So, about the current situation. Ah — come to think of it, I never even asked your name.”
“Just call me Len, please. Within the order, we keep our true names hidden — it's the rule.”
“I see. No wonder. That priest you mentioned — the one who visited — never told me her name directly either.”
Scott nodded solemnly.
“Did you not manage to meet anyone besides that priest?”
“Someone else?”
“Yes. A person who came separately.”
“Ah, right, there was one. I didn't hear the details, but I was told they held a very high position within the order.”
Scott rummaged through his memory for a moment before letting out a gasp of admiration.
“They only stayed a few hours, but they prayed for us all the same. Their face was covered, so I couldn't behold them directly, but what a beautiful voice they had.”
The mercenaries under Rebecca had told a similar story — a figure in black robes, face and body fully concealed, bestowing a blessing and praying on their behalf.
“To hear their prayer in person…… I confess I'm envious.”
“You should be! It was a magnificent experience. The moment they laid their hand on my shoulder, just for an instant, I felt a warm energy wrapping around me.”
From the way he rambled on excitedly, it seemed the captain had stopped entertaining any suspicions whatsoever.
Arendt nodded along at appropriate intervals while his mind spun beneath the gentle face.
‘A warm energy, hm.’
It was almost certainly the effect of an artifact.
A mysterious priest wielding the Breath of Mnemosyne — he'd confirmed the being's existence quite a while ago, but the trail remained faint.
On the chance he might dig up something useful, he decided to press a little further.
“Did you receive your blessing alone?”
“No, a few of my subordinates who help with my work received it with me. They said it was a mark of serving Lord Cernion. Didn't you receive one as well?”
“Embarrassingly, I'm still young. I was told it would be granted when the time came.”
The captain and a handful of subordinates — so at least the entire city hadn't been touched. Then again, with only a few hours to spare, there'd hardly been time for more.
Arendt scratched his cheek shyly and steered the conversation elsewhere with practiced ease.
“By the way…… how are the preparations for the great work proceeding? With things turning out this way, I find myself a little worried.”
“The preparations are going splendidly. We followed exactly what the priest instructed, and we've gathered the supplies without a hitch.”
The trick of scattering purchases across multiple merchant guilds so no one grew suspicious while stockpiling weapons and grain — he seemed to have learned that from the ghoul.
‘That figures.’
The cover-up afterward had been remarkably clumsy, though.
“Wow, that's incredible. You truly are capable, Captain Scott.”
“Oh, it's nothing. It's simply my duty.”
Arendt even clapped twice, and the captain practically floated off his chair, shoulders swelling skyward.
But the elation was short-lived. Scott abruptly came back to himself, his face hardening into gravity once more.
“Speaking of which — did you say things have turned urgent?”
“Yes. You're aware an alert has been declared across the entire empire, Captain?”
“I know it. We've received any number of official dispatches.”
And yet he'd fallen head over heels into the lunatic's trap regardless.
‘That's exactly the problem.’
A mere alert order could never instill true vigilance.
Even threatening punishments on par with treason would fall on deaf ears for people consumed by greed or desperation.
‘Which is why an example is necessary.’
In the original flow of the story, a man like this would meet his end on the execution platform along the capital's main boulevard, fulfilling his role as a cautionary tale.
After all, this was supposed to be a novel with neither dreams nor hope in it.
But Arendt didn't care for that ending.
Tragedy had its own charm, sure — but not when it was real life. A world reeking of blood was far less appealing than an absurd, farcical turn of events.
“Then are you aware of the situation in the capital right now?”
“The capital? No, but I did hear — through her, the one who granted the blessing — that the imperial knights have been persecuting the Church of Cernion lately.”
“Yes, exactly. And I imagine she also told you there's a traitor among us.”
That part was an adaptation of what Vincent and Blake had said — though the "traitor" those bastards had meant was none other than Arendt himself.
At those words, Scott's face grew graver still.
“You don't mean that apprentice knight of the imperial knights? The one who stole three holy relics?”
“You're well informed, Captain.”
Arendt smiled brightly and nodded.
Holy relics. What a curious turn of phrase.
So that's what they called artifacts. If so, the theft probably stung the cult far worse than he'd imagined. To them, it must have felt like having something on the level of the Sacred Sword wrested away from the Luce Religion.
‘The circumstances differ a bit, but still.’
According to the novel, the Sacred Sword was the crystallization of divine power, a direct link to God Luce himself.
The artifacts Scott called holy relics, by contrast, were geared more toward function than divinity.
“Because of the information that traitor leaked, the Church's core strength has been exposed. As you well know, Captain, this is no time to be clashing with them head-on.”
His mind was churning furiously even as Arendt delivered the lines he'd rehearsed with perfect earnestness.
“Several pillars of the Church have already fallen to him. Which means this city — and the priest who visited here — are now marked as targets.”
“Damn it all! I knew I should have drilled discretion into them……!”
“You did everything you could, Captain. And you've told me the preparations are already complete.”
Soothing the captain as he clenched his fist, Arendt lowered his gaze and put on the picture of innocence once more.
“If we act before the pursuit squad arrives, nothing terrible needs to happen.”
“Th-that's right. When does that pursuit squad get here? You came ahead of them, didn't you?”
“Yes. At the earliest, late tomorrow afternoon — or the morning after, at the latest. It falls to you to handle things well, Captain.”
Dropping his voice as though anyone might be eavesdropping, Arendt beckoned with a crook of his finger. Come closer.
“The truth is, we can't trust every resident of this city, either. There's no telling who might be playing spy.”
“Th-that's true.”
Gulp.
The captain swallowed dryly, tension climbing his throat.
A shadow of gloom settled over that guileless face as Arendt continued quietly.
“If someone informs the imperial knights, this city is finished. And so are you, Captain. You'd face the harshest of punishments.”
“Th-then what are we to do?”
“You were preparing an uprising, weren't you? What was the objective? The capital is far too distant from here.”
“We meant to march straight for the Lord's Castle.”
“You intended to take the Lord hostage, then.”
“That's right. The imperial court would never listen to little people like us. Hold the Lord hostage, and use him to deliver our demands to the palace.”
“I see.”
What a grandiose — and staggeringly complacent — little operation.
Arendt nodded with great solemnity.
“I'd advise you to postpone the march for now.”
“Why? Wouldn't it be better to depart at once?”
“If you run straight into the pursuit squad on the way, it becomes a disaster. The elite of the imperial knights are closing in as we speak. Do you truly believe you could fight them and win?”
Absolutely not.
The moment the captain pictured it — heavily armed knights swarming toward him, radiating murderous intent — the blood drained from his face.
“For now, the best move is to carry on as though nothing happened. The evidence must disappear. Let's start with the statue of God Luce.”
“Y-yes. Destroy the evidence. But how?”
If the imperial knights caught sight of it, the entire citizenry would inevitably be punished for sacrilege.
Scott nodded hurriedly, and Arendt tilted his head with a show of careful deliberation.
“It can hardly be disposed of right this moment…… so perhaps I should lend my strength.”
“Your strength?”
“Yes. Humble as it is, I too have received Lord Cernion's blessing. I can manage at least that much of a trick. Might I ask where the supplies are being kept?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Once the pursuit squad begins searching, they may grow suspicious at the sight of weapons piled to the rafters. We need to conceal it all before they arrive.”
“Then what you mean is……”
The captain murmured blankly, then asked as if to confirm.
“You're telling me you have the power to hide all of it?”
“Yes. It's nothing to brag about, but it will certainly be of use to you, Captain.”
The young man smiled sweetly and gave his firm assurance.
The suspicion he'd buried stirred, just for an instant — but the moment he looked into the youth's blinking, fawn-gentle eyes, it died on the spot.
Right. I've met every kind of scoundrel doing this job. I pride myself on reading people.
He was just a boy, after all, and a seasoned veteran like himself would be watching him like a hawk. What harm could one green whelp's tricks possibly do?
Besides, he had seen with his own two eyes the strange powers wielded by those who served Cernion.
And if a boy with eyes as innocent as a deer's could lie through his teeth without blinking — well, then the world had already gone to ruin, and that was that.
After a brief struggle, the guard captain let his guard down entirely.
Never noticing that he had just stepped, with his own two feet, onto the express road to the bottomless pit of hell.
And then, the following morning.
As the price of his carelessness, the captain found himself staring at an utterly emptied warehouse — and a statue blown to absolute pieces.