The Capital (2)
One could hardly fault a priest or holy knight for being zealous in their missionary work.
Common sense alone said no worshipper of an evil god would dare preach openly in the capital of all places.
Kathleen politely declined Yoanna’s offer and waved the carriage through.
Yoanna watched Kathleen’s retreating figure with a look of mild regret and tucked the scripture away.
“She would have suited us so well. What a shame.”
“Yoanna… even so, I don’t think it’s right to push a scripture on someone you’ve only just met.”
Emily, slumped like a melting slime, lifted a trembling finger in reproach.
Mission work required choosing one’s targets carefully. How many people would try to convert someone who answered refusal with a mace? Emily was certain the number would fit on one hand.
Yoanna turned to Thomas, who was driving the carriage.
“Do you think so too, Thomas?”
“Heh heh. I simply follow whatever the Saint decides… but I do think it was a touch hasty.”
They did not serve a being that could be called an evil god, yet it was also true they still lacked official recognition from the Empire.
Trying to convert a stickler for rules to a religion that had not yet been formally acknowledged? No matter how one looked at it, that was no easy task.
“Still, once we receive official recognition, inviting her again shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”
“You’re far too soft on Yoanna, Thomas.”
“Well, unlike you, Emily, she is the Saint.”
“That’s mean.”
Emily pouted at the justified favoritism and bit into the bread she had packed as a snack.
Naturally it was not something she had grabbed in the city; she had bought it from a merchant. The line of carriages was so long that vendors selling food to visitors were plentiful.
Following the road deeper into the capital, Thomas pulled a rough map from his pocket.
“Let’s see… the inn Gilbert recommended should be around here.”
Gilbert was the name of the believer they had sent ahead to secure lodgings until the entrance ceremony.
Guided by the map, Thomas spotted a sign painted with a wine glass full of bread and steered the carriage toward it.
A boy loitering in front of the inn spotted Thomas and ran over.
“Welcome to the Bread-Soaked-in-Wine Inn! Park the carriage in the lot behind the inn and leave the horses at the stable!”
He then casually tapped the wooden placard hanging around his neck.
It listed the prices for stabling, feed, and care. Thomas took a silver coin from his purse and handed it to the boy.
“We already have companions staying here, so we won’t need rooms. Keep the change and give the horses the best feed, a proper grooming, and new shoes.”
“Wow! Thank you!!”
Choosing the most expensive service left little change, but no one ever complained about free money.
After helping Yoanna and Emily down, Thomas followed the boy with the carriage.
Stepping into the inn, Yoanna looked around and smiled.
Sunlight through the windows, the faint scent of baking bread, and the easygoing air of the innkeeper—none of it was luxurious, yet a peaceful atmosphere filled the place. Yoanna found herself liking the inn at once.
“Ah, guests? Sorry, but every room is full.”
“Is there a gentleman named Gilbert among your guests? I was told he reserved rooms for us.”
“Oh… are you friends of his?”
Hearing a familiar guest’s name, the innkeeper stroked his beard.
A few days earlier the man had rented four rooms, so Gilbert’s name was firmly fixed in his memory.
But were these two really his acquaintances?
“Forgive me, but may I call Gilbert down? It’s hard to believe a young lady like yourself is a friend of his.”
“Is that so?”
“You don’t look like someone who would visit a place like this.”
From her accent to her appearance, Yoanna radiated the air of someone high-born.
It was only natural that the innkeeper found it hard to believe she was acquainted with a dusty traveling merchant.
He poured them tea and sent a maid to fetch Gilbert.
A short while later, when the cups were half empty, Gilbert came downstairs with the maid.
Smack!
He accepted a kiss from the maid, then approached with an embarrassed grin.
“Heh heh. Gilbert still has quite the way with the ladies.”
“You’re not dating a whole string of them like a centipede’s legs, are you? Do that and you’ll end up stabbed.”
“Haha. City girls can’t help being curious about a wandering merchant. None of them actually want to settle down with me, so don’t worry.”
Few things drew a woman’s interest quite like a wanderer, a merchant, stories, and money.
Gilbert himself was rather handsome; dressed properly he could pass for a noble household’s steward.
“A frivolous fellow like you, friends with young ladies like these… the world never ceases to surprise me.”
“That’s a bit harsh for a paying guest, isn’t it?”
“Then stop flirting with my maids. You’re not making eyes at my daughter, are you?”
“Even I have standards. I’m not trash enough to chase a married woman.”
He was the type who never turned away a willing woman, which could be troublesome, but he was not a bad man.
Proof enough that he had never once been stabbed. He knew where the lines were and kept them.
Once the innkeeper confirmed they were Gilbert’s party, he added the three names to the guest book.
After unpacking a little, the three of them and Gilbert sat down to a slightly late lunch…
“Saint, I’ve noticed something strange lately and need to speak with you urgently.”
Gilbert glanced around carefully before speaking in a low voice.
His unusually serious tone made Yoanna scan the room. Dantalion flicked a finger and raised an invisible barrier around them.
“I’ve made certain no sound will carry. Speak freely.”
Grateful for the timely support, Yoanna gave Gilbert a small nod.
Unaware of the divine assistance, Gilbert still checked their surroundings once more and continued quietly.
“Lately more and more inns nearby have had guests fail to arrive and cancel their reservations.”
“Is that so unusual?”
“Yes. Not one or two—more than ten people have simply never shown up.”
As the entrance ceremony drew nearer, capital inns charged whatever they pleased for lodging.
Even talented commoners with recommendation letters usually preferred to rent a cheap room rather than pay those prices.
That meant most of an inn’s guests were the children of noble houses.
Nobles with both money and power failing to arrive for reservations they had booked well in advance?
One or two might be chance. Gilbert had already confirmed more than ten. A wider search would likely turn up even more.
And such things rarely happened by accident. Most human misfortune began at human hands.
After a brief hesitation Gilbert pressed on.
“I believe someone is targeting Academy students.”
Years of wandering had honed Gilbert’s instincts to a fine edge, and those instincts were sounding a clear alarm.
It was the same unease he felt when stepping into a predator’s hunting ground, or when turning his back on a particularly cunning swindler.
The same sense that had kept him from ever being stabbed was reacting fiercely now.
“……”
Yoanna stabbed a piece of meat with her knife, frowning.
Come to think of it, she had already experienced something similar—or more precisely, she had been caught up in something similar.
Emily seemed to recall the same incident; she looked at Yoanna with trembling eyes.
It feels just like what happened with Emily.
Could there be more than one group targeting Academy students?
To what end? Why risk drawing the imperial hammer down on their heads?
Yoanna set down her knife and let out a short sigh.
“You’re right, Gilbert. It does seem someone is after Academy students.”
“Thank you for believing me. And… I hate to say this, but—”
“I still can’t delay my enrollment.”
“……”
Gilbert looked at her with eyes full of worry.
Despite her mature appearance, Yoanna was not yet twenty; she had more time than most.
“Saint, there’s no need to rush. You have plenty of—”
“No. Time is not plentiful. If anything, we have far less than before.”
“Why?”
“The moment the State Church formally declares a campaign against evil gods, we are very likely to become targets ourselves.”
This was an attack on talents the Empire itself was training.
That alone was enough to sour the imperial mood; add the assault on nobles and the bereaved houses would be out for blood.
Would a church that had secured the support of the powerful hesitate to draw its sword?
Could anyone be certain that a blade tempered by rage from above and below would not swing toward those who, while not worshipping evil gods, still served an unrecognized deity?
None of them could confidently say it would not.
“So please don’t try to stop me.”
“…If that is the Saint’s will, how could I possibly stand in your way?”
Gilbert lowered his head, expression dark.
He felt wretched that he could not help the one who had guided his wandering heart as she walked alone into a path of thorns.
Yoanna took his trembling hand and smiled.
“Don’t worry too much. God is always watching over me.”
“…I truly hope so.”
Realizing he had burdened a girl far younger than himself with worry, Gilbert heaved a long sigh.
He followed the doctrine and the scripture, yet imagining that a god was truly watching him at every moment was nearly impossible.
“A more earnest fellow than he looks.”
Meanwhile the god Gilbert served was watching him and assigning points.
He would almost certainly never learn that fact for the rest of his life.
On the day of the entrance ceremony, no one was busier than the instructors.
Once the long, glittering ceremony ended, the real work of assigning students to their departments began—and that duty could not be left to anyone else.
Anyone capable of entering the Imperial Academy was, by talent or by birth, someone who could not be treated lightly.
Among the departments, the one reputed to be the strictest was none other than…
“Next! You call yourself a holy knight with that level of training?!”
“Just reinforce the body with holy power and you’re done?! You idiots! If that’s the nonsense you intend to spout, get out and join the priest department this instant!”
“A sound body and a sound mind are the foundation upon which sound faith takes root!”
…the Holy Knight Department.
In truth the department itself was rather unusual.
Only those who could wield holy power like a priest and possessed the fighting spirit of a knight could become holy knights.
They were, in a sense, a hybrid of priest and knight.
Because holy power was mandatory, most children of knightly houses failed the basic requirement and never even applied…
“A-a servant of the gods should practice cha—”
“You bastard!! Are you defending those traitors who worship evil gods?!”
“Wha—?! N-no, sir!”
“You half-baked brat, daring to knock on the Holy Knight Department’s door with such limp conviction!”
“Get out!”
Children born with holy power normally received their education from priests within the churches.
The holy knights of each order were busy every day crushing the vermin that gnawed at the Empire.
Naturally most priests, raised on scholarship and theology, could not endure the holy knights’ peculiar violence—or rather, sense of mission—and fled to the priest department.
After chasing out yet another fool, Sir Iskandar exhaled a long sigh and lit a cigarette.
“Hah… with a spirit like that, how do they expect to face worshippers of evil gods?”
Iskandar blew out a smoke-laced breath and shook his head.
Did they think he barked, cursed, and insulted them simply because he had a rotten personality?
How do they plan to carry out a holy knight’s duty with that kind of resolve?
The primary enemies of holy knights—evil-god cultists—were little better than monsters who had abandoned their humanity.
One could not entrust the task of facing such creatures to soft young men who could not even withstand shouting and insults.
Just as he finished the cigarette, a one-eyed holy knight addressed him in a gravelly voice.
“Sir Iskandar, perhaps we should ease up on the interviews a little?”
“Sir Hawkman, you know as well as I do. With that mindset they’ll be dead within days of graduation.”
“But if we continue like this, this year’s intake won’t even reach a hundred.”
“The cultists’ methods have grown more aggressive of late. For now—”
“Enough.”
Iskandar nodded as though he understood perfectly.
Imperial support was weakening while the cultists expanded their influence with unnatural speed.
As everyone feared, no matter how many holy knights they trained, there were never enough.
…Yet that could never become a reason to shove young people into certain death with open eyes.
“…Forgive me, Sir Iskandar.”
The other holy knights knew it too.
Ashamed of having complained to the man who already carried the heaviest burden, they bowed their heads.
Just then—
Knock knock knock!
As if to clear the air, a knock sounded at the interview-room door.
The holy knights composed their faces and hoped for a decent candidate…
“Yoanna of House Dark.”
“……”
A golden-haired beauty who looked nothing like a holy knight stepped inside.
Disappointment already rising, Iskandar let out a heavy sigh and spoke.
“Name of the god you serve?”
He asked, yet a ready list of answers already floated in his mind.
Compassion, love, abundance… the names of deities popular among female worshippers.
He expected one of those to leave her lips…
“I serve Dantalion, God of Law and Judgment.”
“Dantalion…?”
At the unfamiliar name Iskandar jerked his chin toward Hawkman.
After flipping through a thick volume for some time, Hawkman frowned and shook his head.
If a god’s name was absent from the record, only two possibilities remained.
Either a new god had been born…
Shing!
“You—are you a worshipper of an evil god?!”
…or the speaker was a cultist.
No new god had been recorded in the last two hundred years, so the latter was far more likely.
Killing intent flaring, the holy knights drew their weapons and leveled them at Yoanna. In answer she drove her greatsword into the floor.
Whoosh—!
“Are you calling Lord Dantalion an evil god?”
Her hair blazed scarlet, and above her head a halo shaped like a melting crown took form.
At the astonishing sight Iskandar muttered without thinking,
“The mark of a Saint…?”
A halo.
The token granted only to a Saint who had carved a god’s will into their very heart.
It now burned above the head of a girl not yet twenty, radiating heat fierce enough to scorch everything around it.
Faced with that impossible vision, the holy knights could only stare at her, dumbstruck.