Chapter 171
They weren't getting on the Holy Train just yet.
They had crossed several mountain ranges from dawn, ridden a baggage wagon, and taken teleportation twice, so the fatigue had piled up. They decided to rest for a day in this village where the train station was located.
"Just pick any house in the village."
Lete, walking beside him, brushed her snow-white hair back as she spoke.
"Welcoming a priest, an apostle of the Goddess, into one's home is a great blessing and honor."
Simon blinked at her words.
"Isn't that being a burden?"
"Well… maybe if we showed up out of nowhere? But that's just how it is around here. You saw the farmers earlier, didn't you? Feed us a little, give us a place to sleep, and receive the Goddess' grace, it's a win for them too."
Simon shook his head.
"Still feels like a burden. I think it'd be better to quietly stay at an inn."
"Well, if you insist that strongly, I guess we have no choice."
The two of them entered a reasonably large and clean-looking inn located in the center of the village. The lower floor was a tavern, and the upper floor served as the inn.
Crosses, sacred symbols, and holy artifacts decorated the walls. It felt more like a devout household chapel than an inn or tavern.
People seated at the tables were enjoying drinks and food, deeply engrossed in their own conversations.
Simon and Lete walked to the counter. The innkeeper, his fluffy beard bristling, was too busy setting up meals to notice them at first.
"Laus! May the Goddess' blessing be with you. Do you have any vacant rooms?"
Simon greeted. The innkeeper, moving large dishes in a flurry, glanced sideways at the two of them and said,
"A man and a woman? One room with a big bed okay?"
"Is he insane?"
Lete, arms crossed beside him, growled.
With a grunt, the innkeeper set the dish down and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.
"Hey now, if it's a no, just say no—no need for such a rough mou—"
His eyes belatedly focused properly on Lete. The moment he saw her white uniform made from sacred cloth, his jaw dropped in disbelief.
"La, la, la, Laus!"
The innkeeper stumbled out from behind the counter and immediately prostrated at Lete's feet, his forehead pressed to the floor.
"May the great Goddess' blessing be with you, Priest!"
The other patrons, curious about the commotion, all stood up at once and shouted "Laus!"
"See what I mean?"
Lete sighed deeply, brushing her hair back.
"Everyone, please lift your heads."
The innkeeper raised his head with a start. His face was full of fear.
"I-I failed to recognize a Priest of Efnelle! I have committed a mortal sin!"
"Enough, just give us the two best rooms you've got. And make sure they're as far apart as possible between me and this guy."
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
The innkeeper rushed upstairs to clean the rooms. His family, who had been in the kitchen, also burst out, shouting "Laus!" and ushered the two of them to a table, bringing out dishes.
Even though they hadn't ordered anything, food arrived. Clearly, dishes meant for other guests had been redirected to their table.
Lete spoke up.
"We already ate earlier. Please serve these to their rightful recipients."
"Y-Yes, ma'am!"
But now the other guests, who had been enjoying their drinks and chatting noisily, were glancing nervously at Lete. Some were even pretending to pray in front of the priest for no reason.
"You see that?"
Lete rested her chin in her hand, smiling smugly.
"If we'd just gone to a random house, only those people would've been inconvenienced. But now we've caused trouble for everyone here."
"..."
"When you're in the Federation, it's best to follow Federation customs. It's better for both sides. From now on, you should—"
Just then, Simon stood up from his seat.
"A good evening to you all, brothers and sisters."
All attention, which had been focused on Lete, shifted to Simon. Lete, flustered, made desperate hand gestures to get him to sit, but Simon simply smiled as if to say "Leave it to me", and opened his mouth.
"I am an apprentice priest, Ska Serafino. If it's alright with you, may I offer a prayer for everyone here?"
At those words, everyone stopped what they were doing and immediately brought their hands together.
Simon, having smoothly seized the atmosphere, clasped his hands and began to pray.
His prayer was centered on things anyone could relate to.
Health, good fortune, and happiness.
Every time Simon spoke, murmurs of "Laus" could be heard from various corners of the room.
With a gentle, soothing voice, he finished the prayer and lowered his hands.
"It's a joyful evening. We spend each day with the wine and food the Goddess has granted us. I don't think faith needs to be anything grand. It's a part of our everyday lives, a habit. Isn't sincerely cherishing this grace from the Goddess a form of faith in itself?"
Simon subtly shifted his gaze.
"So that the believers can focus wholeheartedly on the grace the Goddess has bestowed tonight, wouldn't it be kind of the priest to grant her permission?"
Lete smirked to herself.
He was basically asking her to let them enjoy themselves without feeling pressured. In that short time, he had absorbed the Holy Federation's language and blended it with his own, swaying the locals with ease.
With just a silver tongue, he could manipulate the crowd. He really did seem like an apprentice priest.
'...I hate to admit it, but he's good. Doesn't seem like we'll have to worry about him being discovered by the Inquisitors on the train.'
Lete nodded.
"Very well, I grant you permission."
She raised her wine glass as she spoke.
"In gratitude for the Goddess' grace."
"In gratitude for the grace!!"
Everyone echoed her words, then took a sip of wine or water. The atmosphere eased like magic, and the tavern came alive again with laughter and chatter. Finally, people stopped glancing nervously at Lete and returned to enjoying themselves freely.
Simon took a seat and asked,
"How was that?"
"...Tch, I'll admit, you were good."
Having seen Simon's efforts for the past two weeks, Lete didn't criticize him further.
"But seriously, how do you pray so well when you don't even believe in the Goddess?"
"Health, luck, happiness. Even if it's not faith, sincerity in universal human values gets through."
Simon also felt that he had made a good first move in his role as a priest. Just then, the innkeeper came down to say the cleaning was done.
The two of them went upstairs and unpacked. Lete, exhausted, collapsed onto her bed, and Simon asked for permission to go out and buy a few things.
She gave him a suspicious look, then buried her face in a pillow and muttered,
"Don't do anything unnecessary. Just buy what you need and come right back."
"Got it."
It seemed scoring some points with her earlier was working in his favor. Simon stepped outside into the cool evening air.
'First, I need to secure some funds.'
Asking around, Simon found the village's antique dealer. There, he exchanged an ancient coin—similar to the one he had once given a broker—for cash.
Although the value wasn't as high as with the broker, he still managed to get enough money to last through the vacation in the Holy Federation.
The Holy Federation used a single unified currency: the "Blanc". The approximate exchange rate was as follows:
1 Gold = 100,000 Blanc.
1 Silver = 100 Blanc.
He had just exchanged his coin for 20 million Blanc, roughly 200 Gold in the Dark Alliance. A very generous travel budget.
"Where's the market in this village?"
"Ah! At this hour, the night market should be open. Try heading that way down the road."
"Thank you!"
Simon blended in naturally with the townsfolk. Every time he was reminded that he was a necromancer here in the Holy Federation, he felt a strange thrill. Of course, just like at the inn earlier, he was confident he wouldn't be found out.
'Well, people are people no matter where you go.'
Simon thought the problem between the Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation was just that the mutual hostility was too extreme.
In the Holy Federation, they taught that the Dark Alliance was a land cursed and ruled by evil demons.
They claimed that 90% of its territory was rotting due to the lack of the Goddess' grace, that not even weeds or crops could grow, that most of its people had turned into zombies, and that it was a den of sin and depravity.
The Dark Alliance wasn't much better.
They described the Holy Federation as a place where corrupt clergymen exploited ordinary citizens to death in the name of the Goddess. That corpses of the starved piled up like mountains in the streets, but reality seemed far removed from those claims.
In truth, if either side just visited the other, they'd quickly realize how wrong those stories were.
'Wow…'
He had arrived at the night market. Despite it being night, exotic and dazzling lights lit up the area, and countless street stalls were tightly packed together.
A stranger and traveler, Simon wandered through the glowing market, fully soaking in the feeling of a real journey.
'First thing I need to buy…'
Simon stopped in front of a street stall.
"Laus! May the Goddess' grace be with you, adventurer. Is there something you're looking for?"
Merchants in the Holy Federation weren't the type to shout loudly to attract customers. Instead, they would quickly approach anyone who stopped to browse, greet them politely, and then become much more proactive once the greeting was returned.
"How much is this?"
What Simon picked up was a mask that covered the entire face. It had a white base, with deep black geometric patterns accentuating the eye wrinkles and cheeks.
Looking around the market, he saw quite a few similar masks. Even if someone tried to investigate who bought one, it would be impossible to track.
"5,000 Blanc!"
Roughly 50 Silver. Not bad.
'Now, which one should I choose?'
With so many similar designs, Simon deliberated over which color to go with.
* * *
There it was.
A scent.
The man had caught the scent thirty minutes ago. He turned on his heel as if possessed and entered the night market.
'...'
There were many people in the market. And where there are many people, there are many smells.
But this particular stench—burnt and rotting—stood out vividly even among the hundreds of other smells.
'The smell of Darkness.'
The man walked. Not guided by sight, but only by scent.
He bumped into several people along the way. Some cursed, others shouted, but he ignored them all. He was like a lunatic, wholly consumed by the scent.
Sniff sniff.
The man's nostrils flared as he wandered the market.
The acrid smell of burning, unique to Darkness. And the smell of corpses.
He was certain.
'A necromancer is here.'
He spun around, darting this way and that.
'The scent is strong.'
The burnt stench stung his nose.
This was it. This was the spot.
He abruptly halted and scanned the surroundings.
Where? Where was the bastard hiding?
And right next to the man, frantically searching his surroundings, Simon stood among the crowd, calmly picking out a mask from the stall.
Simon chose a mask he liked, paid the seller, and began walking away.
"You."
Grab!
The man suddenly lunged forward and grabbed someone by the collar.
But the one he caught wasn't Simon, who had just walked past, but a large man standing next to him. The startled big man scowled.
"What the hell, you bastard?"
The man ignored the words, yanked the man's clothes, and tore them open. Then he buried his nose into the man's bare chest.
Sniff sniff sniff.
He deeply inhaled the scent around the left side of the man's chest.
Not burnt. Just soaked in foul, rancid sweat. The stench was enough to trigger nausea—
Smack!
The man went flying, punched square in the face. He hit the ground hard. The big man shouted, his face twisted in disgust.
"You insane freak! What's wrong with you, you crazy bastard?!"
Murmur murmur murmur.
The market crowd began backing away, forming a circle around the two.
"What's going on, a fight?"
"Whoa, look at that guy's build."
Cracking his knuckles, the big man approached menacingly. The man on the ground staggered and rose to his feet.
'Damn it.'
He could taste blood in his mouth, and he'd lost the scent.
Just when he'd almost caught the necromancer, the opportunity slipped away. A wave of frustration surged.
"Oh Goddess."
The man stood shakily, drew a holy sign in the air, and began to mutter in a cold, low voice.
"We have awaited the hour of judgment. Today, I send thy creation back into thy embrace. If his sin be light, accept him into thy arms. If it be heavy, cast him into the eternal abyss."
"What the hell are you saying, freak?! You want another beating?!"
As the big man stormed forward, the crowd quickly split to the sides. With a roar, the big man threw a punch.
Thump.
The punch—delivered with full force—was lightly caught by the man's raised hand.
No matter how much strength the big man used, the man didn't budge. He couldn't even pull his fist back.
Crunch!
"Arghhhhhh!"
The man's grip twisted the big man's hand and wrist together. Letting go, he left the big man cradling his dislocated wrist, collapsing to one knee.
"You."
The man crouched down.
"Are you a heretic?"
That one question drained the color from the big man's face.
The crowd reacted similarly—covering mouths, gasping in horror. Some in the distance even turned and fled outright.
"You made me lose the scent. You did it on purpose, didn't you? What's your connection to that necromancer?"
Behind the man, a subspace opened.
Clang! Clatter! Boom!
Torture wheels, guillotines, racks, giant saws, iron maces, spiked clubs, pillories, all sorts of brutal instruments spilled out and rolled across the ground.
"Inquisitor Metin."
He picked up a mace covered in protruding spikes and raised it above his head.
"The inquisition shall now begin."