Witch Hunter (2)
“Huh?”
Valon’s steps, leading the way ahead of us, came to an abrupt halt.
In that same instant, both Vivian and I understood what had stopped him cold.
A crowd had gathered up ahead.
At first glance it looked like nothing more than people clustered in front of a shop, busy with trade—but the truth revealed itself with every step we took.
The voices grew louder, more agitated, the closer we came.
“Valon, go see what’s happening.”
Vivian’s command cut through the air, cool and sharp. A rare tension threaded her voice.
Valon nodded and sprinted toward the throng.
His massive frame shoved through the press of bodies and vanished into the heart of the crowd.
Moments later, even louder shouts erupted from the center—shouts that made it clear, even from this distance, that Valon had thrown himself into a fight.
The scuffle did not last long.
Whether it was Valon’s arrival or something else, people began to notice us approaching from behind. The crowd parted, opening a path, and the scene ahead came into sharp focus.
At the center stood four knights clad in black cloth and black armor, each bearing the white triangle-and-circle emblem of their order. They had forced several townsfolk to their knees.
Fear and despair were carved plain across the commoners’ faces; one of them trembled, tears streaming down.
“…The Las Church.”
Vivian whispered the words.
It took no great insight to recognize the knights as holy knights of the Church.
Valon was still shouting at them, face to face; the holy knights answered him in low, measured tones.
Vivian drew a short breath. She reached for me as if to dismount. I took her hand without thinking and helped her down from the horse.
Her fingers were ice-cold.
Even after her boots touched the ground she did not let go of my hand. She seemed not even to notice she was still holding it.
The sight of her so openly tense was strangely unexpected.
Guided by that grip, she moved forward. I lifted our joined hands a little higher and walked with her.
The moment Valon saw Vivian arrive before the holy knights, his fury drained away and his mouth snapped shut.
The knights fell silent as well. The lord of Loktana needed no introduction—her red hair alone was enough.
Vivian cast one glance at the kneeling commoners, then fixed the knights with a voice of pure ice. Hostility filled every syllable.
“What is the meaning of this?”
The four knights snapped into the Church’s formal salute.
“We greet the Sun of Rondore.”
“I asked what you think you are doing.”
The oldest of them—a middle-aged knight—stepped forward. His voice held neither tremor nor guilt.
“We were rooting out witches who deserve execution.”
“Do you have grounds for holding these people?”
“There were suspicious circumstances.”
“What circumstances?”
“…They say that eating the meat sold in this shop makes the pain in one’s body disappear.”
A middle-aged woman still on her knees cried out in raw injustice.
“I-it’s just meat…! When people are starving and sick, of course the pain eases once they strengthen themselves with meat…!”
The holy knight snarled at her.
“Silence. I did not ask you.”
Vivian exhaled and looked around.
The shop had been smashed open; wooden planks lay scattered everywhere. Cuts of meat littered the dirt, filthy with mud. Red blood—whether from the meat or from the commoners—was spattered across the ground.
I felt Vivian’s grip tighten around my hand.
“If these people turn out not to be witches, how do you intend to make amends for what you’ve done?”
“We spent ample time reaching our judgment. They are unquestionably witch—”
“—Lie.”
Vivian cut him off, voice absolute.
The holy knight closed his mouth under the sudden weight of her presence.
“Do not lie to me.”
“…”
“The Las Church’s work of hunting witches is noble, I grant you. But I will not tolerate the harming of innocent citizens of my land in the process. Complaints have already been rising. People say you commit outrages while claiming to root out witches.”
The knight’s face twisted.
“Outrages? Do not dare belittle our actions so freely.”
—Thud.
He took a step closer, as if to intimidate her.
—Ssshk.
My hand settled on the hilt of the two-handed sword slung across my back.
The holy knights froze at the shift in my stance.
Their eyes locked onto the blue band around my neck, then flicked back and forth between the band and my face.
“…”
“…”
After a brief silence the knight who had advanced took one step back.
Only then did I release the sword.
Vivian spoke again.
“I belittle nothing lightly. Is there anyone left who does not know that the Las Church has been burning with zeal for witch hunts of late?”
The knight refused to yield.
“A witch’s curse subjects people to extreme suffering. Even excess is not too much.”
Curse.
The word made my heart lurch for a moment.
Even I, standing shoulder to shoulder with Vivian against this holy knight, felt myself sway at the sound of it.
You will come to love one you must never love.
I glanced at Vivian, then closed my eyes and forced the thought away.
No. Whatever I felt for her was not love.
Guilt, or some form of debt—that was all.
Yet the fact that this relentless emotion toward her clung to me like a curse was beyond doubt.
“Whatever you claim, I no longer wish to watch the Las Church torment my people.”
The townsfolk packed around us answered her declaration with muffled cheers from within the crowd.
The holy knight’s expression never wavered; he simply repeated the same words.
“This is the will of the Church. Even a lord cannot defy the Church’s will.”
“There are still lines. You cannot enter our land and ignore our rules entirely.”
The circular, stifling exchange made me look at Vivian.
I could see her anger mounting, layer by layer.
I drew a deep breath, steeled myself, and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Vivian, why don’t we just kill them all?”
I had no intention of actually doing it, nor of letting the situation explode that far.
But I knew a threat alone could sometimes be enough.
The holy knights exchanged uneasy glances, rattled.
“They’re standing on your land acting however they please. If they won’t listen, exile them or kill them. That makes them enemies.”
I pressed on.
“There’s four of them. We’ve got fifty. Just kill them. The crowd around us is on our side too. They’ll keep quiet if we clear these guys out.”
Whispers of “Kailo Allen…,” “the northerner,” “barbarian” rippled through the throng, yet even as they insulted me I could tell every one of them was climbing aboard my suggestion.
The oppressive atmosphere that bloomed said as much.
People who had only watched from a distance now edged closer, tightening the pressure on the holy knights.
“…Auntie, get up for now.”
“…Valon… you’ve grown so much.”
Valon, as if determined to pour more oil on the fire, helped the kneeling people to their feet.
Looking closer, he seemed to know the middle-aged woman from before.
“…”
The holy knights could not even order them back to their knees; they only flinched.
The lead knight, trying to seize control again, barked at me.
“…Who are you? Do you think a mere knight can lay hands on us and walk away unscathed?”
I laughed in his face.
“You don’t know me?”
Vivian looked up at me.
“…What?”
“I’m not from this land. I’m not under your influence. Even your Church can’t just kill me. My life is worth more than the lives of flies like you.”
“…And who exactly are you?”
“If I die, war breaks out on this land. You think the Las Church gets to decide that?”
Somewhere behind us Willas and Martin snickered.
I thought I heard someone mutter that I was insane.
I stole a quick look at Vivian.
Her eyes, so different from the earlier tension, seemed to offer me quiet thanks.
That expression alone made the threat worthwhile.
Yet Vivian did not press the holy knights any further.
She and I had divided the roles cleanly—good cop and bad cop.
“My apologies. You may already know… this is Kailo Allen. The eldest son of the Allen family, whom we keep in our land as a hostage—no, as a guest.”
The holy knight’s face twisted with belated recognition.
“…I’ve heard the name. If he’d taken off the helmet I would have known him by that black hair.”
“I will apologize on his behalf for his rough speech. Please consider the earlier threat as never having happened.”
The knight rolled his neck and gave a reluctant nod, as if he had no choice.
Vivian used the shifted mood to lock in her advantage and continued.
“That said, I truly cannot keep watching scenes like this. The reason I came down to the city today was precisely to discuss this matter. Is the bishop present at the Las Church temple?”
“…He is.”
“Guide us. I wish to speak with him.”
The holy knight glanced around.
Vivian had smoothed over my threat, yet the townsfolk still regarded the knights with open hostility.
I had not realized how deep the grudges ran against the Church.
Even those who had been terrified now used Vivian’s presence as a shield and let their anger show.
Sensing the atmosphere, the holy knights finally lowered their tails.
“…Very well. Follow us.”
While Vivian met alone with the bishop inside the Church temple, I, a few of my comrades, and the same holy knights stood guard at the door.
An invisible contest of wills crackled between us.
Willas kept raking them up and down with his eyes; Martin kept tossing quiet jokes. Valon and I simply stared straight ahead with hard faces.
How long we stood like that, I could not say.
At last the middle-aged knight let out a long sigh.
He turned his head toward me.
“Acting like this with a bunch of kids at my age is undignified. Shall we drop the staring contest?”
Valon and I looked at him.
He held out a hand.
“Name’s Leopold.”
“…”
I shrugged and ignored the offered hand.
Leopold’s brow furrowed at the snub.
“Is there a reason you have to go this far?”
Valon answered for me.
“Outsiders come onto our land, beat our neighbors, and you think we want to be friends? That shopkeeper auntie you were harassing earlier—she used to share food with my brothers. She’s a good woman.”
Martin added,
“Besides, Lady Vivian treats you as enemies. We can’t just cozy up to you on our own.”
Leopold clicked his tongue as if fed up and shook his head.
He gazed off toward the distant hills.
“Your lord still doesn’t understand. If she knew how vicious a creature a witch truly is, she wouldn’t act this way.”
Willas shot back,
“Who’s complaining about catching witches? Like Lady Vivian said, it’s because innocent people keep getting caught in the net.”
The holy knight did not waver. The conviction shining in his eyes kept him rock-solid.
“Even if innocents appear, it still has to be done.”
Valon stared blankly.
“…What?”
Leopold kept speaking to me, the one who had never answered.
“A witch is… that kind of being. That alien existence must not be allowed to live.”
“…”
His words kept shaking something inside me.
For the first time in a long while I remembered the old woman—the one who had called herself a witch and sworn she would curse me.
The old woman I had executed with my own hands.
Leopold continued,
“Kailo Allen. Our first meeting was poor, but I hold no grudge against you. If anything, I’m grateful.”
“…?”
“You’ve surely cut off the heads of witches our Church sent your way. Weren’t you the executioner of Rondore?”
“…You know a lot about us.”
“We have more places to gather information than you think. Necessary, if you want to root out witches.”
“…”
“Anyway—among the people you executed there may have been innocents, but there were certainly witches as well. I’m grateful for that alone.”
Leopold spoke with grave sincerity.
The emotion in his eyes left me unable to argue.
Perhaps it was because my own feelings were already tangled enough.
The old woman’s voice kept echoing in my head.
So did the impulsive emotions I had felt toward Vivian.
So instead I said quietly,
“…You really hate witches.”
“Do you like them?”
I thought of the old woman and answered,
“…Who likes witches? Those creepy bastards. But I don’t light fires in my eyes over them the way you do.”
“Once you’ve been cursed, you’ll be the same.”
“…You’ve been cursed?”
“Of course. That’s why I’m standing here.”
A strange tension rose in me as I asked,
“…What kind of curse?”
The holy knight who seemed to have lived through much regarded me for a long moment, then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
“…I don’t wish to speak of it.”
Vivian spoke with the bishop of the Las Church for a long time.
The bald man in his forties, carrying a little extra weight, listened intently to every word she said.
Yet through the narrow slits of his eyes Vivian could sense a faint madness.
That madness, which flared whenever the word “witch” was spoken, filled her with quiet dread.
The thought of that same madness turning on her the moment her own nature was discovered was enough to make anyone afraid.
It felt as though she had walked straight into the jaws of a predator that could tear her apart.
She hid her trembling as best she could and pressed on with the conversation.
It was something she could never have managed two years earlier, before she had grown.
At first the bishop held his ground, but the longer Vivian spoke the more he began, slowly, to show consideration for her proposal.
“…I understand. We may indeed have raised the level of anxiety too high.”
“People say they fear being seized by you more than they fear a witch living among them.”
“Hmm. Why would that be? We only take witches. If one is not a witch, there is no reason to fear.”
“Unless someone is casting witchcraft right before your eyes, even you cannot be certain the person is truly a witch, can you?”
“Lady Vivian, you must choose your words carefully. They could be taken as statements that protect those blasphemous witches.”
“I have no intention of standing by while my people suffer simply because I fear such absurd suspicion.”
“…Mm.”
Whenever a pause opened, Vivian quietly drew long, careful breaths. Each time, the bishop’s sharp gaze swung toward her.
He hasn’t noticed.
She repeated the thought to herself again and again.
She must not, out of guilty conscience, let any sign of being a witch show.
“…In any case, I understand.”
The bishop spoke.
“From now on we will take witches into custody only when clearer evidence appears. We will reduce the actions that have made the citizens of Loktana so afraid.”
Relief loosened Vivian’s shoulders.
“Thank you for understanding.”
“However, the patrols will continue. The work of watching suspicious persons and rooting out witches cannot stop.”
“I understand.”
Elena would be satisfied with this much.
Vivian herself had no desire to play with fire any further.
She had wrapped her actions in various excuses, yet she knew exactly what they meant.
She was protecting the witches who had gone into hiding—just as Elena had asked.
For a moment she wondered how many more witches might still be living in this city.
She wondered how many lives her actions had saved.
Thinking the negotiation finished, she began to rise from her seat—
“Lady Vivian?”
“…Yes?”
The bishop called her back.
Her heart gave a hard lurch.
He held a silence long enough to make her uncomfortable, then smiled.
“…Just as we have granted Lady Vivian’s request, we would like Lady Vivian to grant one request of ours.”
The atmosphere made refusal feel impossible.
If only to keep her promise to Elena, Vivian nodded.
“…Speak.”
“In the past, believers of our Church lived even inside Rondore Castle. You would know the names—Sir Roderick, Sir Rosmael, Grindel, Maesna… and others. All of them met their ends in the war.”
“…”
“Perhaps for that reason, almost no one inside Rondore Castle now follows our doctrine. I find that truly…”
The bishop worked his sluggish lips as if searching for the right word, then forced it out.
“…lamentable.”
It was true enough.
War had taken countless lives.
Just as it had swept away the old executioner family of Rondore, it had also claimed the few knights who once believed in the Las Church.
“I am afraid, Lady Vivian. Afraid that a witch may already be living inside the castle without your knowledge. Afraid that you yourself may already be under its influence. You may not know this, but when a witch hides among commoners, only a few hundred suffer. When one hides among the ruling class… tens of thousands may suffer.”
“…”
Vivian fought down the urge to swallow. She poured every ounce of strength into hiding any sign of tension.
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“Spreading our doctrine would be difficult. We have no desire to force our teachings on unbelievers. Yet it should not be hard to find someone who already hates witches. Therefore we wish to appoint one key figure inside the castle as a watcher.”
“…A watcher?”
The bishop nodded. He leaned forward.
“A watcher to root out the presence of witches. A Witch Hunter, if you will. Think of it as a measure for safety. That is our duty, after all.”
Witch Hunter.
It would have been a lie to say the title did not rekindle her fear.
A witch discovered was a witch executed.
The weight of those words pressed down on her with crushing force.
The bishop continued without the slightest concern for her feelings.
“That much should be acceptable, yes? Lady Vivian herself would surely find a witch roaming the castle unpleasant.”
The opposite was true.
As a witch herself, the presence of a Witch Hunter was far more galling.
Vivian wrestled with the thought for a moment, then forced out an excuse.
“I would like to accept the proposal. However…”
“…However?”
The bishop’s expression darkened.
Vivian finally swallowed and spoke.
“…However, as you know, my position inside Rondore Castle is still unstable. I have many political enemies. I fear that one of them might brand me—or my people—as witches. The Church must not be used for political ends, must it?”
The bishop nodded vigorously, as if the point were obvious.
“Indeed, indeed. I had not considered that. Of course we only root out witches… yet what we truly want is the role of watcher. To hope that someone appointed as watcher—someone who may not even believe our doctrine—will act with pure conscience is perhaps greedy.”
“Yes, so—”
But the bishop showed no intention of abandoning his proposal.
“—Then what if we entrust it to someone who stands one step removed from all these political situations?”
“…Pardon?”
“There is a man known as your enemy, yet famous for having saved your life several times. He seems to have become one of your close aides as well. And, as I said, a man who need not involve himself in political affairs. Now that I think of it, he is perfect.”
Vivian knew whom he meant long before the name left his lips.
Her face hardened into something frightening. Fear gave way to a spark of anger.
Her heart began to race.
Yet once again the bishop did not close his mouth. A man who believed in a god seemed to fear nothing.
“Kailo Allen.”
The bishop smiled.
“If we appoint him as Witch Hunter, does that not solve everything?”