Fanatics Blinded by Heresy – 1
Relations between the Empire and the Holy Kingdom were close to friendly. More precisely, the Dawn Church looked kindly on the Livnoman imperial house—but since the imperial family and the Church each ruled their own nations, it amounted to the same thing.
How that friendship began was simple enough. Aemanka the Great, founder of the Empire, had discarded the Imperial Calendar—reckoned from the year of the Empire’s founding—and adopted the Sacred Calendar, reckoned from the founding of the Dawn Church. From the Church’s point of view, the Livnoman imperial house must have looked absolutely adorable.
To be fair, the Imperial Calendar had been a thoroughly miserable system. Every time an empire fell and rose again, Year One of the Imperial Calendar reset with it, so a date that had been Imperial Year 150 the day before could suddenly become 400 B.C. The continent had endured that particular absurdity twice.
“All the continent are Enen’s children, and follow Enen’s light. How, then, could the affairs of men be made the measure of the continent?”
Instead of introducing a fourth Imperial Calendar, Aemanka the Great declared the adoption of the Sacred Calendar. On the strength of that single decision, the Dawn Church—already riding high—saw its prestige soar to insane heights.
How high? High enough that a cardinal still attended the coronations of ordinary kings, while the emperor’s own coronation was attended, to this day, by the Pope in person, who delivered the congratulatory address. Then again, if you thought of it as a reaction proportional to the donations received, it was not especially strange.
In any case, the Livnoman imperial house—and by extension the Empire—stood on friendly terms with the Dawn Church. And when you are on good terms with someone, you are usually on bad terms with someone else.
“They bared their teeth at the Empire three years ago as well.”
I found myself nodding at the Minister of Special Affairs, who was making no effort to hide his raw fury and contempt for the Twilight Cult. Yes—those bastards had screwed the Empire over three years ago, too.
Friendship with the Dawn Church necessarily meant hostility toward the Twilight Cult. From the Cult’s perspective—determined to drive out the Dawn Church and become the mainstream faith themselves—the Empire was as good as an enemy.
So three years ago, while the Empire’s attention was fixed on the north, the Twilight Cult slipped into the Imperial Capital and assassinated the cardinal assigned to the Empire. A single killing that had spat in the faces of both the Empire and the Holy Kingdom at once.
“Having succeeded once, they seem to think they can succeed twice.”
“A thoroughly unpleasant business.”
At my words, the Minister of Special Affairs’s face twisted even further.
I was every bit as displeased. If they had tried to assassinate Tanian while he was still at the Academy, I might at least have understood it. But here? In the Imperial Capital—the very heart of the Empire?
That was only possible if they truly took the Empire lightly. One lucky success, and a pack of wandering heretics had decided the Empire was a soft mark. Unforgivable.
That would make me the lackey of a soft mark.
For the sake of my own honor and standing, every fool who looked down on the Empire had to be sent straight to hell. I would purify them with fire—filthy heretics.
“We’ll be informing the War Ministry shortly as well. If it’s the Twilight Cult, they’ll be grinding their teeth over there too, won’t they?”
Leaving the Minister of Special Affairs behind—still apparently compiling Twenty-Nine Ways to Tear the Twilight Cult Apart—the Minister of Foreign Affairs spoke up. Right. The War Ministry had no shortage of grudges against the Twilight Cult either.
Three years ago, that incident had gotten the War Ministry raked over the coals by the Emperor until the dust flew in the rain. They were already making a mess of things in the north, and now the Capital itself had been breached—at this rate the Imperial Palace would be next, he had said.
The First Imperial Guard Corps, charged with the Capital’s defense, had taken that fury head-on. Its commander at the time, who had been on the verge of promotion from corps commander to theater army commander, was demoted—and not long after, forced into retirement.
How deep had that retired commander’s hatred of the Twilight Cult run? He had started a second life as a holy knight of the Dawn Church, the better to personally hunt them down and kill them. A truly tragic affair.
Mention the Twilight Cult to the War Ministry, then, and the old trauma would flare; they would come running, ready to drag the heretics out and slaughter them on the spot. At least we would not be short of manpower.
“If we’re to prepare an interception, we’ll have to move quickly.”
“We will. We cannot allow combat to break out inside the Capital.”
That much was true. If fighting erupted in the Capital—not a mere assassination attempt, but an actual engagement—it would not end with a few people demoted. At minimum, the three of us sitting here would have to hand in our heads.
And these days the Emperor’s mood was never good to begin with—never better than bad. He was already on edge from reports that a border margrave in the north was showing ominous signs. Drop something like “Those people who came to the Capital three years ago are back” on him, and it would be summary execution without trial.
Goddamn bastards.
The more I turned it over, the hotter my blood ran. They had been quiet the whole time Tanian was in the Holy Kingdom—and now they decided to make their move? They had not even stirred while he was at the Academy?
Granted, the Twilight Cult had achieved little in the Holy Kingdom, while they had managed an assassination in the Capital. But that had been thanks to the absence of the Demon Duke—one pillar of the Capital’s defense—and the variable of the Great Subjugation War. Under normal circumstances, those scum would never have gotten anywhere near the Capital.
Fine. If they found us easy, we would adjust things until we no longer were. That was a civil servant’s duty to the Empire.
“I have a request for the Audit Department Chief.”
While I was burning with that sense of obligation, the Minister of Foreign Affairs finally stated the reason he had summoned me.
“When we intercept the Twilight Cult, I would like the Audit Department Chief and Mukgwangdae to take part as well.”
It was the request I had expected, so I nodded lightly. With Tanian belonging to the Baking Club, I already had reason enough to step in for his protection.
“And I would also like the Audit Department Chief to request support from Her Grace the Demon Duke.”
“Pardon?”
That one I had not seen coming.
The two ministers saw me off toward the Magic Tower with a promise that they would work out the details with the War Ministry and let me know. “Seeing me off” was a generous way of putting it; they had essentially thrown me out.
I could forgive the Foreign Minister for dumping the work on me with a smile. But even the Special Affairs Minister, who had been scowling the whole time, had hustled me toward the Magic Tower the moment the Demon Duke’s name came up. Damn it—so his ears had been open after all.
I’m going to lose my mind.
Going to the Demon Duke first was a little awkward, but not impossible. What was far more awkward was the subject I would have to raise in front of her: the Twilight Cult.
“My child, did I mishear you?”
See? An enthusiastic reaction already.
When I first entered the Magic Tower master’s chambers, the Demon Duke had welcomed me warmly, saying she was glad I had come to greet her first. Thanks to that, our conversation had been reasonably amicable—right up until I mentioned the Twilight Cult.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but you heard correctly.”
Under the Demon Duke’s fervent gaze I bowed my head, keeping my eyes as low as I could. The look in her eyes when she was angry was rather piercing. I was innocent. I was merely the messenger.
Fortunately she seemed to recognize my blamelessness; a small sigh escaped her, and the stinging weight of her gaze eased.
“It’s all right. Raise your head.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
I lifted my head carefully and found the Demon Duke with her eyes closed, deep in thought. She tapped the desk with one finger and said nothing, the silence like the stillness before a storm. I almost wished she would say anything at all.
“It’s been three years.”
At the end of that silence she opened her eyes and spoke quietly. The small, cold voice sent an involuntary shiver through me.
Those sons of bitches.
It was almost impressive. A single act, and this many people nursing a grudge. If agro efficiency were a virtue, these bastards would be extraordinary.
“They don’t even know how lucky they were. The gall of them.”
“They are foolish fanatics blinded by heresy, are they not, Your Grace? It is only natural that they thrash about without knowing their place.”
At that, the Demon Duke nodded as well. If anyone understood better than most how utterly mad the Twilight Cult was, it was her.
The Cult had been at the height of its power some ninety years ago—which would have been when the Demon Duke was still in her prime—
“My child.”
“Ah—yes.”
The chill in her voice made me start, for a second convinced she had read my thoughts.
“Back then I was away, and could not deal with them myself.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I am aware.”
On the day the Empire’s cardinal had gone to Enen’s side far sooner than Enen had appointed, the Demon Duke had been at her own domain, assembling support troops to send north.
A catastrophe that had erupted while one of the pillars of the Capital’s defense was away. In a sense one could say she bore some responsibility—but since her absence had been for wartime support, not private business, she had received the Emperor’s consolation instead of blame.
“And now they dare aim at the Capital even while I stand guard.”
The Emperor had officially cleared the Demon Duke of fault, so she had escaped formal responsibility—but not the humiliation and shame. And as a noble of the Empire, she could not simply leave it. So she had endured, day after grinding day.
“They’re running straight into the mire of their own free will.”
At the end of that long endurance, the ones she had been waiting to catch and kill were voluntarily charging toward her. A miracle.
The Demon Duke willingly agreed to lend her strength to the interception of the Twilight Cult. Judging by her reaction, if we had crushed the Cult without saying a word to her, she would have shaken us down for every last detail later.
Well—if I had been waiting for years to kill someone, and then heard they had been wiped out without my knowledge, I would have felt rage and emptiness both.
Anyway, it was a relief. With Special Affairs, the War Ministry, and the Demon Duke all involved, the situation was as good as settled. What kind of courage did those bastards even have, throwing themselves at the Capital?
I don’t understand it.
Fanatics were incomprehensible to begin with—but today they felt even more grotesque than usual.
Or was it not only fanatics? Were the devout as a whole simply difficult to understand?
“Is there a decent forest near the Capital, by any chance?”
“A forest?”
Watching Tanian come toward me the moment I returned to the manor, I was inclined to think so.
Why was this boy suddenly looking for a forest? Planning a little forest bathing, was he?