Chapter 210
Chapter 210
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 210
Chapter Title: Shoot at the Emperor (2)
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After the Pope departed, Beorn simply left the stack of reports piled on his desk untouched and stared quietly at the map. The tactical map covering one entire wall of his office depicted the complex power dynamics of civilized society.
Blaming the Church's problems on the Emperor was not the work of an Inquisitor. No signs of heresy or corruption had been found in the imperial family, and it was improper for priests to meddle in secular politics.
So, was this his own failing? That was what Beorn thought. He had rashly requested a declaration of holy war. Because of that, the current situation had spiraled utterly out of control.
As Beorn sighed and picked up his teacup, there was a sound at the door.
*Knock knock.*
"Come in."
Beorn slowly turned his chair to face the door. It opened, and Fernandez walked in.
"Shall we begin already?"
"Yes, Abbot. It won't take long."
His tone was light, as if he were just popping over to inspect a neighboring village. Yet the man speaking had informally slain two great demons as an Inquisitor.
Beorn nodded and gestured to a seat. Fernandez took the teacup Beorn offered and sat across from him.
"Speaking personally, I have my concerns about this matter."
"About meddling in secular politics?"
Beorn took a sip of tea without responding to Fernandez's words. It was bitter.
"His Holiness said that since the imperial family used us first, we should do the same. But the Lord's teachings do not endorse an eye for an eye."
"If the Empire fractures, it will benefit civilized society in the long term."
"......What?"
Fernandez spoke without a trace of humor.
"The Emperor is autocratic, and the Empire is mighty. The eastern kingdoms have been sending vast war subsidies to the Empire every year, and now, with the Fifty Years' War concluded, the tax rates imposed on the eastern kingdom alliance are rising day by day just to sustain their own economy. The secular lords' unease stems precisely from this current peace, from the fact that the Emperor and Sultan are not at war."
"Peace is the problem?"
"Yes, Abbot. The Emperor is propping up the crumbling imperial authority—shaken by failed wars—with gold. That gold comes from the eastern kingdoms' breadbasket regions, and the Empire's legions, once focused on western expeditions, are now seen as ravenous monsters devouring maintenance costs."
Fernandez rose and walked to the map. He drew a long line from west to east as he spoke.
"The Emperor needs war. If he can't touch the west, his options are limited."
The southern jungles wouldn't yield profit. And the imperial family had separate reasons for avoiding the southern jungle regions.
To the north lay only vast seas. Beyond them was the northern continent, of course, but intelligence was woefully insufficient for an expedition, and assembling an overseas force would require exorbitant initial investments.
That left only the east for the imperial family to advance. The eastern kingdom alliance had willingly supported the imperial western expeditions precisely for that reason—a polite request to keep eyes off the east.
But now. At this point, where the east was the only region left for the imperial family to focus on, peace itself had become a dagger poised for war.
"The war with the Sultan ended too swiftly, with no gains. The Silk Road crossing the steppes is blocked, the wastelands have turned green, the beastfolk alliance is firmly united, and spectral legions lurk throughout the wastes."
Public opinion in the Empire was already weary of western expeditions. Fifty years was no short time, and the immense capital and manpower squandered had eroded imperial authority.
Thus, the Emperor needed a victory. A clear triumph that would grace the annals and satisfy the populace.
The eastern secular royals knew this as well. That was why all eyes were fixed on the newly declared crusade at this juncture. The secular lords' hypersensitivity stemmed from pure survival instinct.
"We must prevent war between the eastern alliance and the Empire at all costs. It won't be a drawn-out, lackadaisical affair like the western expeditions. The Empire will set the entire continent ablaze until it devours the east completely."
"So we must depose the Emperor......"
"Yes, the throne is an elective position. Dissatisfaction with the current imperial family and political instability will fade with the transfer of power."
"Very well. Then what is your plan? How do we dethrone a hale Emperor guarded by his palace, and how do we enthrone a new one?"
"The fall of great powers always begins from within, Abbot."
* * *
A spring breeze blew low beneath the spire. The Pope had departed abruptly, and Fernandez and his group had undergone no purification rites or heresy trials. Whether that was fortunate, Kirhas could not say.
She rested her chin on the windowsill and grumbled. Idiots. Brainless fools who couldn't recognize the great heroes living in their midst—the ones who had crossed world rifts to slay great demons in another dimension and thwarted gods and demons bent on annihilating the material world.
And what irked her more was that Fernandez said nothing about it. That alone made her seethe. Why? Why wouldn't he claim his due?
Only a handful of Inquisitors within the Inquisition and high Church officials knew of his feats. The other pantheon churches and secular lords dismissed the northern crusade uproar as mere conspiracy-laden fuss.
How unjust. By what she had witnessed alone, Fernandez had pressed on through countless near-deaths, enduring frostbite, abrasions, contusions, lacerations, and punctures. Burst eyeballs and festering flesh were routine.
Without sainthood, without the power of the Religiosa Demonica, and without her own abilities, no one could have survived that brutality and risen again.
And yet. No one acknowledged it.
"Idiots......"
Kirhas's turquoise eyes gleamed coldly. She gazed down at the Pope's entourage receding with flapping banners.
"Feeling wronged?"
"......Benefactor."
When Fernandez's voice came from behind, Kirhas felt resignation more than surprise. With a Demonica's keen hearing, he couldn't have missed her muttering. She let her ears droop.
"Yes, Benefactor. I feel wronged."
"What wrongs you so?"
Fernandez approached with a gentle smile. The castle's wide corridor held only the two of them. Kirhas thumped the floor with her tail in a petulant display and pouted.
"It's unjust that your feats and accomplishments are buried in the dust. Who before you has slain great demons? Only you! Every lord in civilized society should come forth on their knees in gratitude, and it still wouldn't suffice!"
"Had I sought fame, would I have become a priest? But your heart is kind. Thank you."
Fernandez smiled softly and drew near Kirhas. His callused hand rested atop her hair. Kirhas lowered her sharp gaze and let out a low growl of contentment.
"Fine weather today. Shall we walk?"
"Yes, Benefactor."
Kirhas trudged after Fernandez's leading back, her ears still drooped. Spring winds blew through the corridor's open windows, brushing the fur beneath her ears. Somewhere, warm floral scents wafted.
"Do you remember when I said purpose matters more than reason?"
"Yes."
"Indeed. Back then, you were driven only by vengeance, and I merely sought to use that to fight more demons, more battles."
Fernandez spoke as if it were nothing. Use. She knew it then, and knew it now. Just as she had felt in the great wasteland. Fernandez had kept her only as a tool.
Yet that didn't sadden her. What if she was a tool? That she still held value to him was blessing enough. Moments like this—walking together, sharing the same path—would continue onward.
"I'm not as good, right, or just as you think."
"......Benefactor?"
"Now, reason and purpose weigh equally for me. Kirhas. What to do, how to do it. What to sacrifice and to what end. Such calculations grow harder by the day."
Suddenly, Fernandez halted by a window. A white seed, carried on the wind, fluttered atop his hand. He waved it away and gazed outside.
The Dragonspine Mountains could never be called flat, not even in jest, but amid their rugged peaks, flowers bloomed and beasts thrived. Birdsong and chirping insects filled the air.
New spring leaves rustled like a landscape symphony. Fernandez watched the scene a moment, choosing his words.
Purpose over reason. That had been absolute for Fernandez—and for Feizashi. The axiom that let him turn back this life, that demanded he turn it back.
For his son's peaceful life alone. That had been it at first. But now Fernandez saw other things, felt other things.
Was that bad? Or was it merely Beitasser's forcible shaping of the 'soul's wicked part,' excised and reformed into illusion?
Whatever the reason, it was no welcome change. Personal sentiments had no place in achieving goals. He wasn't in a position for such leisure, nor was it his taste.
Yet somehow. Even now, as he meant to say, 'I'll use you again,' the words wouldn't come. So he simply looked down at Kirhas.
After a pause, Kirhas spoke.
"Speak."
"......Hm?"
"I can sense your hesitation, Benefactor. If you want something from me, say it. I'll gladly obey."
In that brief span—near instinct—she had realized Fernandez desired something from her.
"Will you help? It won't be pleasant."
"Don't ask me to help, Benefactor. It's better if you just order me, as always."
Kirhas slowly raised her head. Her resolute turquoise eyes sparkled, hard to meet directly.
"I need the great chieftain of the beastfolk clans."
"Will you come with me, Benefactor?"
"Of course."
"Just the two of us?"
"For now."
"Perfect."
With that, Kirhas smiled purely.