Just My Greed

Just my greed.

Once she had finished taking his measurements, Katrina dove straight into making the robes. Bella and the children stayed at the lodging in the meantime, while I watched the work unfold. Crafting the garments required not only the blood of a descendant, but the blood of the wearer as well.

"It's finished!"

A week later, Katrina brought out the priestly robes. The dark circles under her eyes were deep from how little she had slept.

"Though to be honest, this is the first completed set I've ever seen myself, so I'm not sure if it turned out right…"

I looked at the robes laid out on the table, then immediately drew my sword. Using only the edge, I dragged the blade back and forth across the forearm of the garment.

"Aaaagh! Inquisitor!"

"Definitely different."

The robes remained flawless, without a single scratch. In my previous life, Marcken's clothes had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cut easily enough — they simply regenerated if left alone. But this fabric would not be cut by ordinary means at all. My blade might have been blunter than most swords, but it was still plenty sharp.

As expected…

As the holy relic of Lumen, the Temperance of the Seven Great Goods, claiming it meant abandoning greed. That contradiction was a thought worthy of our oh-so-lofty Goddess.

"I'll try them on."

I changed into the priestly robes made from Lumen's fabric and stepped out. Bella and Katrina both reacted at once.

"Inquisitor, they look wonderful on you!"

"Whew, thank goodness they seem to fit."

No discomfort when I moved, and the sizing was perfect. With these, I wouldn't take a wound from any ordinary attack.

Then, without warning, holy power surged into me. I hadn't offered a prayer or sacrificed a demon. But the sensation was familiar — I had felt it once before.

When I gave alms to Lark in the slums.

A Holy Knight grew stronger by practicing the seven virtues. So was this because I had restrained my desires?

Though I don't particularly feel like I restrained anything.

No — thinking about it again, for someone like me, I really had suppressed my greed. When I nearly burned Lumen's fabric, I had come close enough to reaching the stage of Sorrow.

Does it differ from person to person?

If Bella ate only one bowl per meal, that would be temperance. If an ant ate a whole apple, that would be greed. Neither of them was human — one a turtle, one an ant — but the principle that it varied by the individual seemed roughly correct.

Not that fretting over it would change anything. I decided to just keep doing things my way.

"Inquisitor, you somehow look even more noble than usual?"

"The fabric is different, of course, but the original canvas was already excellent."

"So cool!"

"Sparkly!"

That was enough of that…

Before returning to the Luminara territory, we first stopped by Bella's orphanage. Once I explained the situation to Director Dominica, she readily agreed to take the children in.

The facilities have changed a lot since last time.

Before, the place had felt like it was barely scraping by to keep the children fed. Now there was a sense of ease in both her expression and the grounds themselves.

She hasn't wasted the money Bella's been sending.

That was part of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why I had come, honestly. Dominica was a woman who would give her life for these children — but greed had a way of shaking even the best of hearts. I had seen plenty of that in my previous life.

But I don't need to worry about this place.

I lowered the hand that had been absently resting on my sword. Children who had been destined to be soiled by another's touch would live as human beings under her warmth.

"Listen well to the Director. Or else I'll come straighten you out myself."

"Yes, sir!"

"See you again, Inquisitor!"

It had been half a threat, but they took it so purely that I had nothing left to add. I turned away before the dust in my heart could settle on their pure white canvas.

"We'll be on our way, then. I leave them in your care."

"Yes. Travel safely. We are always grateful."

After that, we returned to the Luminara territory and looked into setting up a clothing shop for Katrina. She had made robes from Lumen's fabric for me, and I still had Marcken's fortune that I had brought back from that place. If my clothes ever got damaged, I could leave the repairs to her as well.

"We've returned, Father."

Once all our business was settled, we came back to the manor. Father nodded.

"Yes. It seems you've brought another new person with you this time as well."

"Yes. She's a talented seamstress. If you have need of her, it would be worth paying a visit later."

"I'll do that."

Father smiled faintly.

"There was a time when every return of yours brought bad news, and I could only feel anxious. Now you bring good news every time, and I find myself looking forward to it. Even your mother, who used to do nothing but worry, has been falling asleep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠early these days."

"Dear."

Mother scolded him. That she hadn't been sleeping well was news to me. She had always greeted me with a smile.

"I see."

"Cael."

"Yes, Father."

"Come by often, when you have the time."

"I will."

I nodded and looked around. Lark, Lami, even Alturo were all nearby as if it were the most natural thing in the world — but one person was missing.

"Is Scriben in Haven City?"

Haven City was the new name for the former Skallen territory. Roughly, it meant "sanctuary."

"Yes. He went with me on an inspection, and now he's handling the parts that still need sorting out in my place. Though it doesn't seem to be going smoothly."

"I see."

"I wanted to stay longer myself, but he was so insistent about sending me back."

A sound judgment. With Scriben gone and no one else fit to run this place, it did the family no good for the head of the house to be away too long.

"Brother. This is the letter Scriben asked me to give you when you arrived."

Aren stepped up beside me and held out a letter.

"When did this come?"

"Just last night."

"I see."

I opened the letter and checked its contents.

I read through the letter, then turned to Father.

"We'll need to go straight to where Scriben is. Judging by the handwriting, the stress might turn him bald at any moment."

"What on earth is going on? He asked that only you read the contents, so even I haven't looked."

Looking at the opening of the letter, that request made sense. Most heads of house would have ignored it and checked anyway — Father was truly honest and upright.

"It's not that serious. Just the kind of festering problem that oozes out when a territory changes hands. Scriben is suffering because of that pus."

"I see."

"In any case, we'll be back soon. I'll bring good news."

As I turned to leave, Mother spoke as if to hold me back.

"Cael, just coming home safe is enough."

I looked back at her and let out a short laugh.

"It's just my greed."

I was never a man suited for temperance to begin with.

Haven City, formerly the Skallen territory.

Scriben stood on a makeshift outdoor platform. In front of him, a crowd of people was shouting him down.

"Ease the shop inspection standards!"

"Stop tightening the checkpoints!"

"Restore our monopoly rights!"

Their demands all boiled down to one thing: reverse the policies Scriben had implemented in Haven City. Strengthening shop inspections and checkpoints had been a temporary measure for the territory's security ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and stability.

The monopoly rights, though — those I know nothing about.

They had either cut a deal with Baron Skallen, or they were lying to take advantage of the change in lordship. The problem was that no matter how hard he searched, no contracts turned up, so Scriben had no way of knowing which was true.

Did that bastard Skallen hide them somewhere, or are a few of these people trying to deceive me…?

Scriben let out a heavy sigh.

And that's not even the only problem. More and more residents are gathering around the protesters.

At first, only about forty merchants had assembled in front of him. Now ordinary residents who weren't directly participating were watching from the sidelines with growing interest.

The sharp spike in food prices during the lean season is probably the main reason. That hits people where they live.

But that problem wasn't caused by Scriben's policies. Not entirely absent as a factor, perhaps, but he hadn't imposed any sanctions strong enough to shock the market.

Someone deliberately drove up the price of circulating food. To provoke a backlash from the residents.

He still wasn't sure who, but anyone capable of this much influence was no small faction.

They're probably planning to ride the residents' momentum and pressure the new lord. If he gives in to their demands, they'll magically lower food prices and claim they were right all along.

That was why he hadn't summoned Viscount Benedict. A man that kind and merciful would have caved under their pressure and granted most of their demands.

The Viscount is sharp, but he's truly weak in situations like this.

Scriben sighed, pushed up his glasses, and looked out at the protesters.

"Now, now, everyone, please calm down. There are reasons we strengthened the shop inspection standards and the checkpoints."

They paused their shouting and listened.

"The previous lord, Baron Skallen, was an apostle of the Evil Book Society. Of course, he has since ascended to face the Goddess's judgment — but his remnants may still be hiding here."

"……"

"So until the territory stabilizes, we put those measures in place for security. In short, the regulations will gradually ease with time. Please, just hold on until then."

Scriben bowed his head to them. For a moment, things quieted — then a man at the front spoke up.

"Food prices are skyrocketing, and you want us to hold on how long? Are you trying to starve the residents to death?"

"He's right!"

The uproar spread like ripples once more.

"Bring the lord, not you!"

"Are you trying to ruin this city?!"

The chants rose again, and the watching residents began to murmur. Always the same pattern. No matter how he explained, all he got back was condemnation. That had been their goal from the start.

Under the grinding, repetitive stress, Scriben's mind went blank, and he muttered without thinking.

"Ah… maybe I should just run."

"Go ahead and run. I'd be curious to see what happens myself."

A cool voice cut in as someone stepped up onto the platform. Scriben whipped his head around in shock.

"Y-Young Master! You've arrived!"

"I have."

"Haha, that was just a joke just now."

"I'm sure it was. If it had been serious, you wouldn't still be alive."

"……"

Scriben swallowed hard. Cael smirked, clapped him on the shoulder a couple of times, and planted himself in front of the merchants. They began to murmur among themselves.

"Who's that?"

"A priest?"

"He looks… noble somehow."

"Tsk, get a grip, woman."

Cael looked down at them and spoke.

"I am Cael Luminara, eldest son of the Luminara family. Word reached me that there was a disturbance in the new territory, so I've come in place of my busy father."

"Ah, perfect timing. Young Master, the current situation—"

"Don't interrupt. I still have more to say."

Cael's flat gaze settled on the man.

"I came here to talk, not to fight with you. But is it different for you lot?"

"……"

"And I would appreciate it if you watched your manners. As I just said, I am here as the proxy of this territory's lord — my father."

Cael rested a hand on his sword sheath.

"Or would you rather I deal with you not as a noble, but as a Heresy Inquisitor? If that's what you all want, I can oblige."

The flustered merchant stammered a reply.

"N-No, sir."

"Good."

The crowd fell silent in an instant. No one here wanted to face a Heresy Inquisitor. Still, the merchants could count themselves lucky — Cael seemed to have genuinely come as the young master of House Luminara.

But even he has his limits. If he tries to suppress us by leaning on an Inquisitor's authority, it'll spark a backlash among the residents.

That was part of why they had staged such a public protest. But if the demonstration grew too heated, he might switch back to being an Inquisitor — so for now, they quietly paid attention.

"Now we have an atmosphere fit for conversation."

Cael nodded with satisfaction and looked over the merchants.

"From this point on, as the eldest son of House Luminara, I will hear each of your grievances one by one."

"……?"

"We will have a thorough discussion and find the best solution. Conflict is resolved through dialogue, after all."

Cael's lips curved into a faint smile. It was not the smile of a noble's son — it was the smile of a Heresy Inquisitor.

"So then. Whoever wishes to speak with me first, step forward."

"……"

Moments ago they had looked ready to charge the platform. Now not one of them dared take a step.