The Heretic's Legacy
Suetleug left no opening.
An unfamiliar face calling himself the son of Count Abner — which meant he was either a fraud or an illegitimate child. Either way, there was nothing to gain by letting him live.
It would only earn them a pointless grudge against Count Abner.
"You could have at least interrogated him before killing him..."
"What would a nobody like him even know? One look and you can tell he was some naive fool being used. We've stalled long enough — if word from above arrives while we're dithering, this becomes a headache."
The moment any of the higher-ups laid eyes on the man, neither Johan nor Suetleug could have killed him rashly. With Stefan still waiting outside, to boot.
Which meant he had to die now, while everything was still in chaos. On matters like this, Suetleug was utterly ruthless.
"Surely Count Abner isn't involved in this?"
"...I doubt it. If he were, wouldn't he have sent the punitive force himself?"
"That's a relief, then."
"Let's hope he didn't cherish the bastard. Then again, if he had, the man wouldn't be lying dead in a place like this."
While the slaves beat the bastard's face beyond recognition and crushed anything that might identify him, Suetleug searched the mage's body.
"As I thought — he was a practitioner of Blood Magic."
Magic that dealt with blood was called Blood Magic. Among all the countless branches of the art, the magic of blood was regarded as the most sinister and profane.
And there was shadow magic on top of that...
No matter how gifted a mage might be, one who wielded such arts would never receive proper respect.
"Do you have any idea what he intended to do with the monsters he was creating?"
"A mage is still a man. He was going to sell them off to some noble, no doubt."
"Even knowing he'd be excommunicated if caught?"
"That's only if he's caught... And the Church tends to be a touch more forgiving toward the nobility, doesn't it."
The life of an unacknowledged mage was a miserable one. Magic was a discipline that devoured fortunes, and without a patron, research was next to impossible — and Blood Magic, which demanded living sacrifices on top of everything else, all the more so.
A mage studying such arts would have craved a powerful patron. Right or wrong notwithstanding, plenty of nobles yearned to own a mighty monster steeped in magic.
"Search the surroundings. If there's anything worth taking, take it — no exceptions. The place must be thoroughly combed before anyone arrives."
The slaves bustled about. Once people started arriving, this temple would be burned to the ground and wiped from existence. Everything useful had to be gathered before then.
Suetleug's first priority was the mage's research journals. To a mage who could read the mysteries, such writings were worth more than gold.
Mad, yes — but not mad in any ordinary way.
Suetleug frowned. Even among mages who pursued the same mysteries, methods varied enormously, and this mage's method belonged firmly in the realm of the deranged.
Feeding goblins to each other to strengthen them. Harvesting their blood to work vile sorcery and enslave beasts...
And in the end, a plan to blend the strengthened goblins with the beasts and forge a hardy chimera.
The monster they'd met in the temple corridor had been the fruit of it. Poorly maintained, certainly — but its combat power had been genuinely threatening.
"This... isn't this an Imperial University bracelet?"
"Hardly surprising. There are precious few places one can learn magic to begin with."
There were not many places where one could study magic, the mystery of mysteries. Suetleug had been fortunate enough to inherit the secrets of the Ipael River passed down from master to master, but not everyone was granted such luck.
Those who still wished to learn magic had to seek out whatever doors remained open to them. One of those was the Imperial University.
A hall of many disciplines — law, astronomy, medicine, alchemy, theology, numerology — the Imperial University stood among the highest institutions of learning on the continent. So much so that young scholars crossed great distances just to reach its doors.
"Do they teach magic there?"
"Don't be absurd. Magic isn't so easily taught. If you're lucky, you might catch the barest fringe of it. This one was likely the same."
"What about universities in other cities?"
"Erance, Catalonia — it's the same everywhere. Magic is not something you can learn just anywhere. Don't tell me you're still clinging to that vain dream of becoming a mage?"
"Would this Imperial University bracelet fetch a good price?"
"Changing the subject, I see... It's a token, nothing more — hardly a treasure. This ring would serve you better. Look here. This ring. You should have it."
"Pardon? Why would you so suspiciously hand me something so—"
"It's not remotely as suspicious as all that."
Suetleug polished the ring with his robe and tossed it to Johan. A copper band, holding a deep, murky darkness at its center — a darkness that shimmered oddly the longer one stared at it.
"Nicely done — he's bottled shadow itself. Break it, and darkness spills out around you. Handy for a bit of deception."
"Then why didn't you ever use it?"
"You did cut its owner's head off, no?"
"Ah."
Johan accepted it gratefully. He didn't know how potent it was, but something like this would surely find its use.
"There's a fair sum of Erance gold coins here. Take these as well."
"Er — you really mean for me to take all of it?"
"You swore you'd repay me properly, didn't you? Compared to these journals, it's nothing."
To a mage, mysteries and secrets were worth more than gold. Handing such things over to Johan cost Suetleug nothing at all.
And yet I've given him precious little.
Suetleug grew anxious. Ransacking a heretic temple like this put Johan at no small risk as well; if a vow had been made, it deserved a fitting reward.
But nothing of worth presented itself. The mage had apparently poured himself wholly into the dark arts, leaving behind nothing but items that were ominous at best and cursed at worst.
The suppression, at least, was a complete success.
Succeeding at a punitive mission that had failed time and again was achievement enough. And soon, more gold would come flowing in.
The mage grew restless; the knight grew idle. It was, predictably, the knight who spotted something unusual. Johan's eye fell on a red leather belt hanging on the wall.
"What's this?"
"...Don't touch that just yet."
Suetleug lifted it carefully, gave it a few practice swings, and clicked his tongue.
"He truly did nothing but depraved research."
"What is it, then?"
"An assassin's weapon. Desperate as he must have been, to craft something like this and try selling it to nobles..."
When tensed and whipped, the red leather belt turned into a lash that drank the blood of whatever it touched. A weapon made for murder.
Suetleug sighed. Reading the intent behind a cornered mage's desperation left a bitter taste.
"This, at least, isn't worth giving to you."
"On the contrary. I'll put it to good use."
"?!"
Word that Johan had brought the suppression to a successful end reached the Count almost at once.
That the repeatedly failed punitive mission had finally succeeded was startling enough, but what lay behind it was more startling still.
Even Count Abner's composure wavered at the report that a secret society had been rooted out. It was a patron he had never once imagined.
His vassals, equally dumbfounded, soon collected themselves and burst out.
"Congratulations, my lord!"
"What else could explain why the failed suppressions finally succeeded? The Lord has chosen you, Count!"
"I always said Sir Stefan was a brave and exceptional knight. To see him prove it at last — what joy this brings me!"
"Spare me the drivel."
At the Count's icy rejoinder, the noble who had spoken flushed red and lowered his head.
"If Sir Stefan had the ability to demonstrate, he'd have demonstrated it long ago. Don't waste breath on flattery. That is not what matters now."
Frankly, Stefan's triumph was welcome news — but Count Abner was not so foolish as to be taken in at this stage.
The success of this suppression belonged entirely to Johan.
Had he known, he thought, he would have attached Stefan to properly impressive knights far earlier — but such hindsight was meaningless now.
"I hear the priests sent by Bishop-Count Mohsho have been loitering around our lands. Normally I'd have expelled them on the spot and lodged a protest, but this time the circumstances differ. Send an envoy to convey our gratitude — and a donation."
"......"
The vassals' faces soured.
Ordinarily, outsiders meddling in another lord's territory was not something to overlook, bishop or no.
But these circumstances changed everything.
The priests had slain the cultists — if the Count failed to express thanks, it would shame him. Generosity and piety were a noble's virtues, after all.
"My lord. A man has come from the Church."
"Show him in."
The priest entered with a respectful bearing. The barbed stares of the nobles did not faze him in the slightest. Had he been the sort to shrink before landless minor lords, he'd never have survived the priesthood.
"We give thanks for this suppression. Bishop-Count Mohsho sends his gratitude as well — without the Count's resolve, it would have been impossible. We intend to send a priest back to Heincut village to tend to its people, and beg the Count's indulgence in this. Your mercy, we pray."
"...?"
Count Abner, bewildered, grasped the situation at last — and cursed Stefan inwardly.
That blithering idiot...
Stefan had reported far too little.
Having been told only that the goblin dens had all been found and that the priests had come and destroyed the cultists, the Count could only conclude that the priests had done the suppressing.
But now it was clear the punitive force had swept the cultists away itself, and the priest's words only confirmed it.
"...It was the least that could be done. I'll look favorably on sending the priest."
"Thank you, my lord."
The priest withdrew with the same deference he'd entered with. As the source of their worry turned instead into a windfall, the faces of the assembled vassals brightened.
What had threatened to leave them indebted to the Church had become an occasion to burnish their own generosity instead.
"When Sir Stefan returns, he'll receive a reward. Treasurer — prepare it according to custom."
"Yes, my lord!"
Watching this, the nobles thought among themselves.
So he still holds Sir Stefan dear after all?
Don't tell me he means to pour further support into Sir Stefan on the back of this exploit...
But contrary to their fears, Count Abner remained cool-headed.
He rated Johan highly — he did not rate Stefan highly at all.
"Will you be all right?"
Once the vassals had withdrawn, the head steward asked cautiously. Even among the vassals, the stewardship was a post of great authority — overseeing the administration of the territory and standing as the lord's proxy in his absence.
Naturally, he also knew exactly what the Count had given Stefan.
With the suppression complete, Stefan would now do everything in his power to make use of the Tax Rights. It was, after all, the very reason he had launched the expedition.
And if Lady Ulrike found out...
"I have decided. The rest is Stefan's affair. Even if Lady Ulrike kills him, it is no concern of mine."
"Understood, my lord."
"...Though delivering this letter wouldn't hurt, I suppose. Take this letter to Sir Johan."
"It will be done."
People called the Count a man without blood or tears — but Stefan, apparently, was the exception. The Count's love for him was, in its way, undeniable.
Johan and the punitive force prepared for their return in soaring spirits.
They flushed out the villagers who had been in hiding, restored the village, and burned the temple to the ground before the eyes of the priests...
With all of that done, it was finally time to head home.
Repairing the village wasn't strictly a mercenary's duty, but the mercenaries moved at Johan's command without a word of complaint. Sometimes, it seemed, there were things besides gold that could compel obedience.
"So you really mean to go see Ulrike?"
"Like I said — the negotiation with Ulrike comes first. Everything else can wait."
Ulrike was the ideal buyer for the Tax Rights.
She was also, admittedly, the person who would be livid once she learned the truth — but Johan trusted that once Ulrike properly understood the situation, she would come to the table.
Unlike Stefan, she had at least that much sense.