Chapter 209
Chapter 209
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 209
Chapter Title: Shoot Towards the Emperor (1)
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“Hey, Silver Benefactor. Aren’t we supposed to be on a triumphant return?”
Bathed in the warm spring sunlight, Kirhas Hearttaker had been humming cheerfully along the way, but under the piercing gazes of the fierce foreign knights who had shadowed them fully armed the entire journey, her mood seemed to sour bit by bit.
“You’re all too much. Nobody acknowledges what Silver Benefactor went through or how he came back alive.”
“Would a cleric chase worldly fame?”
“It’s not about fame. Don’t they all owe him at least one life debt?”
At Kirhas Hearttaker’s words, Abel, riding alongside her, responded gently.
“Kirhas. There’s no way to prove it.”
“Aren’t you angry? To get this treatment from a world he saved by throwing himself into the fray!”
“Angry, Fernandez?”
Abel spoke with a smile, and Fernandez shrugged his shoulders. More than anger, his mind was a whirlwind of complexity.
He already knew what troubled the secular lords. After issuing mobilization orders and even declaring a crusade, only to have the Beitasser Church suddenly fall silent after draining their war chests—this was no ordinary matter.
Why would they do such a thing? Politicians were more sensitive to costs and benefits than anyone, and they trusted no one but themselves.
Thus, the moment doubt arose, they would start with the most threatening assumption. ‘Are they exhausting our national defenses to aid another country?’
Such discussions were surely underway in governments across nations. Debates on the Church’s intervention in politics. And following that, they would redirect all their intelligence resources outward.
That’s what Fernandez would do. And the same went for the monarchs of other royal houses. So rather than feeling wronged or outraged by this treatment...
‘I need to find a way to use it.’
Doubts like ‘Did they join hands with the Church to expand their influence?’ were spreading everywhere in the Eastern Kingdom Alliance. From the start, the alliance wasn’t forged from mutual trust but a loose pact to stop fighting each other.
Just as the Fairn and Dane royal houses had clashed, the kingdom alliance now bristled with tension, ready to point blades at one another at any moment. That meant every move the Church made henceforth could spark war.
With its secular prestige and influence on the brink of collapse, this was precisely the moment when the Church could wield its maximum sway over civilized society.
-Clop, clop, clop.
Lost in thought, his horse pressed on. Merlinport and the Inquisition Keep were just three days’ walk away, so the journey wasn’t long.
“Yawwwn.”
Freya stretched languidly. The ornate floral crown adorning her hair trembled with the motion. She glanced around brightly and declared.
“Well, still. Mortals! Isn’t it a fine day? The south is so warm. I like it here.”
“We’re headed to a place that’s not warm anymore.”
“Back to the north?”
“The vibe might be similar. Welcome to the Inquisition Keep.”
-Creeeak.
With those words, at the road’s end where it curved into the mountain path, the warning sign hanging at the alley’s edge tilted with a groan.
-Warning. You are entering the Papal Territory.
-Arrest may result in burning at the stake.
-St. Bartholomew Monastery.
Feeling like he’d come home, Fernandez shrugged and strode past the slightly frightened Freya.
* * *
-Bwoooo—!!
-Dong, dong, dong.
When Fernandez spotted the monastery’s outer walls, horns blared long from the direction of the monastery, and bells tolled. It finally looked like a proper triumphal ceremony.
The massive iron gates creaked open, revealing monks lined up in rows. As Fernandez passed between them, the monks stamped the ground with a resounding thud, saying nothing.
This was their way of welcoming him. Sincerely so. At least among the monks who knew to stay silent, unlike the Heretica or Enmagicka.
“Brother!! Oh, my God! The brother has returned!!”
“I believed in you! Beitasser watches over us! MacTo!”
Monks who didn’t know silence shouted noisily and charged forward. Each step shook the earth violently.
“Eek.”
Freya groaned unpleasantly from beside him. Not wanting to be crushed along with his horse, Fernandez leaped down. At the same moment, he was swept up by the monks.
“Brothers. I’m happy to see you too, but please calm down a bit...”
“Praise His holiness!!”
“Oh, brother. Let me see. No injuries? Two arms, two legs, head’s there! Intact!”
“That doesn’t exactly mean intact.”
“Hahaha! Tongue’s intact too! Who’d have thought! Slicing a great demon without a scratch—true after all?”
“I’m still worried! Need to check if the inside’s intact too! Take him to the outdoor hymn hall!”
“Twenty sets should be easy! This is purity verification!”
Inquisitor-style brutality. Fernandez grumbled as he peeled off the swarming Demonica. He clapped at the rowdy Demonica laughing uproariously.
“Come on, brothers. On the way here, I saw His Holiness the Pope’s seal. Is this okay?”
“Uh, hmm.”
“Hmm.”
Even Demonica—no, especially Demonica, who had reconstituted their flesh with divinity—were bound more strongly to the authority of the Pope, Beitasser’s vicar.
The Demonica instantly regained composure and stepped back a couple paces.
“His Holiness awaits in the grand cathedral.”
“The abbot is with him too. Ah, Brother Zephys. The abbot commands your presence as well.”
“That was the plan.”
Zephys patted Fernandez’s shoulder a couple times and strode ahead. Fernandez gave a quick nod to Abel, who watched Zephys with some concern, then followed him into the grand cathedral.
* * *
“Disarm.”
At the end of the grand cathedral’s corridor, before the doors to the chapel, a cathedral knight looked down at him imperiously. Blue eyes flashed beneath the gleaming visor of his helmet.
“Personal arms are recommended in the Inquisition Keep, aren’t they?”
“Not under His Holiness’s personal audience. Bishop Cerned.”
“You know I’m Fernandez Cerned, Grade 2 Inquisitor, bishop-level personnel, and you still say that?”
Fernandez glared coldly at the knight. The knight hesitated, looking uneasy. Fernandez smirked, unbuckled his sword belt, and tossed it to him.
“Catch.”
As the knight reached to grab it, Fernandez’s fist slammed down like lightning onto the knight’s helmet. A clang of steel rang out, and the knight staggered back.
“Don’t look at an Inquisitor like that in the Inquisition Keep, cathedral knight. Unless you want to burn.”
“How dare you...!”
The knight clutched his ringing head and roughly gripped his sword hilt. Watching, Zephys chuckled and seized the knight’s arm.
“Draw that, and you’re dead, brother. And if a Demonica really meant to attack, you think your head would be intact? Brother Fernandez, calm down too. It’s His Holiness’s personal audience.”
“Yes, brother.”
Fernandez snatched the sword belt from the knight’s hand, slung it over his shoulder, and grasped the door handle. The heavy chapel doors slid open, revealing a sanctuary carpeted in deep purple.
Near the altar sat the cardinals, the Pope, and the abbot, watching them. Zephys stepped back slightly, and Fernandez crossed to the Pope directly.
“Grade 2 Inquisitor, Demonica Fernandez Cerned, greets His Holiness the Pope.”
“Oh, no need for formalities! Young brother. This old man read your report and rushed here himself, only for you to commit a faux pas before shaking off the journey’s fatigue!”
As Fernandez knelt on one knee, the Pope laughed and pulled him up. Beorn Shieldbane took Fernandez’s arms, inspected them briefly, and smiled quietly.
“The holy sword is intact. Brother Fernandez.”
“Fortunately, it didn’t break.”
“Haha, care to draw it?”
“Of course.”
Fernandez nodded briefly to the Pope and cardinals, stepped back, and drew the sword. The key sword’s light blazed brightly for a moment, illuminating the dim chapel.
While the Pope and cardinals exclaimed in admiration, Fernandez spun the blade and thrust it into the floor, then stepped back.
“Indeed, no room to doubt its purity!”
“MacTo.”
The cardinals crossed themselves and bowed their heads. The Pope beamed and offered Fernandez a seat.
“Last time, I told you why I trust you. Remember?”
“You said reports are approved only after cross-verifying various local materials?”
“Correct. Here’s the issue. We had many eyes in the Great Wilderness. Such a massive event made evidence easy to find everywhere... But this time, in the north... it’s a bit... tricky.”
Strictly speaking, the north wasn’t under the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods’ domain. Crossing the distant seas led to societies of warriors who took to sea raids and war as hobbies, outside civilization.
Thus, the only means to verify Fernandez’s report were Zephys and a few Demonica dispatched there. At the crucial moment, Fernandez had thrown himself into the hell gate.
If that was true, and he returned without signs of corruption... The Pope smiled warmly.
“Did you truly slay the great demon?”
“Yes, Your Holiness. I swear it in the Lord’s name—true.”
“The Lord has blessed us...!!”
Pope Paul IV crossed himself and cried out in rapture. In his not-short life, he’d faced countless events and horrors, but none as glorious as this day.
“The world owes you a debt.”
“You overpraise me.”
“And this old man owes you one too.”
“...Pardon?”
Paul paused, then beckoned a cardinal. The one beside him brought over a document and handed it over.
“What is this?”
“How much do you know of the imperial throne?”
Fernandez flipped open the report. It detailed the empire’s high nobles, electors, and imperial organization charts—information so precise that mere leakage could warrant treason charges.
-Interesting how it’s turning.
‘Pope... you sly old fox.’
Fernandez remembered his past life. Pope Paul of the Beitasser Church. The man who became immortal through divine blessings. Strategist of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods, rivaling him in tactics to the final war. The politician who unified its fractured forces...
His intentions were surely pure. He’d thwarted Feizashi Wildcast at every turn, who’d allied with demons to destroy the world. But he was also the one who’d dispatched sky knights to assassinate Aria.
Feizashi and Paul shared many traits. Especially their mastery in spotting and exploiting enemies’ weaknesses to topple them.
And now, he hands over imperial state secrets. Amid the storm raging in the Eastern Kingdom Alliance...
‘Aiming for the imperial election rights...’
The empire’s throne wasn’t hereditary. That was why it spanned from the east to the north and central continent.
No one could guarantee all heirs from one bloodline would be great emperors. Even under mediocre fathers, exceptional sons could emerge.
Thus, the ‘imperial election rights.’ The wise emperor had granted them to the seven great electors, tired of his incompetent heirs. Eight houses total—the emperor’s kin included—could nominate the next.
The elected emperor served for life... but regardless. Throne succession was a powder keg in imperial politics...
‘With the war against Kirzart failed, imperial authority is at rock bottom.’
Assuming unanimous agreement from the seven electors excluding the imperial house, the emperor could be ousted, and a succession council convened.
Fernandez looked up at the Pope. The Pope gazed down with an enigmatic smile.
“Speak. Who do you wish the next emperor to be?”
“...Haha. Hahaha!”
The Pope burst into laughter and gripped Fernandez’s shoulder. In a voice thick with joy, he cried.
“When this is done, come to the Papal Palace.”
“...Pardon?”
“This must be unofficial and succeed without fail. And if it does...”
With unwavering certainty, he whispered to Fernandez.
“After I’m gone, my seat will be yours.”
“...Your Holiness!!”
Cardinals behind him shrieked. A sharp-featured one stepped forward and shouted at the Pope.
“This is unlawful!”
“Clerics aren’t versed in politics. Diplomacy is battle, politics is war. The eye to read the situation can’t be taught; one with such vision is the Lord’s chosen saint—and he slew a great demon himself. Who could be more fitting?”
“Brother Fernandez is... undoubtedly exceptional. But Your Holiness, his talents shine when wielded as the Lord’s sword, we believe.”
“We’ll see.”
The Pope eyed the key sword embedded in the chapel floor, emanating a pure glow. The order’s relic was pristine, without a speck of impurity.
“Have you forgotten who first wielded the key sword?”
“...”
Saint Gregory. The saint who slew the evil dragon nesting where the Papal Palace now stood and laid the Church’s foundation upon it. The guardian who defended the faith with a single blade when great evil roamed the earth... The cardinals closed their eyes and bowed.
“I believe you’ll succeed. Inquisitor Fernandez Cerned.”
“I shall obey.”
Fernandez smiled in response to the Pope’s words. The Pope and the saint wore the same smile. They shared many similarities.