Chapter 333 – Lingering Intent (1)
One of the seven city-states, Surdmil.
Like Riverungr, it borders the Hefin River, and being located at the southernmost tip of the Kailiens, it is also the city closest to the Republic of Beldirn.
The mayor who ruled over Surdmil had once held a high reputation as a former merchant.
He had leveraged his experience to prosper the city through diplomacy and trade with the Republic of Beldirn, and succeeded in improving the quality of life for its citizens.
Moreover, he carried a sense of pride in his own accomplishments, and was also skilled at managing himself.
Because of this, there had been no small number of people who respected him.
But now, that was all a story of the past.
Munch, chomp.
Crunch, crack, slurp.
A man, bloated with layers of fat, stuffed food into his mouth in a frenzy.
He was not using utensils at all, so his bare hands were smeared with sauce.
His lips were drenched with drool.
The wine glasses lined beside him were so slick with grease that they glistened.
"Mmm... mmgh...!"
The speed at which he emptied plates was faster than the speed at which dishes could be cooked.
The waiters hurried about in panic, but it was far beyond their ability to keep up.
In the end, when the rotation of dishes broke, the fat man grew enraged and slammed the table.
"The plates are empty! Hurry! Bring me more food, pasta, soup, steak! I'm still hungry!!"
"R-right away, Mayor!"
"Faster!!"
Once again, food was served.
Among them were dishes that weren't even fully cooked, but he shoved them into his mouth without caring.
It was gluttony.
Who could possibly believe that this greedy man, only a few months ago still healthy and dignified, was once the mayor of Surdmil?
Neither the cooks, nor the waiters, nor the secretary, nor the guard knights, nor anyone in the city could bring themselves to believe their own eyes.
"...!"
At that moment, the mayor flinched.
His movements stopped, his pupils quivered violently.
Just as someone was about to rush over, thinking perhaps the food had lodged in his throat, the mayor spat out the meat he had been chewing.
"I will return."
"Y-yes, sir!"
Creeeak.
The mayor staggered as he rose from his seat.
Supported by the guard knights, he barely managed to prop his weight up with his cane.
"Huff, huff...."
Breathless, his swollen flesh pressed down heavily on his lungs.
His stamina had run completely dry, and it was no longer easy for him to move.
His secretary rushed forward, wiping the thick beads of sweat with a handkerchief.
After catching his breath for a while, the mayor suddenly spoke.
"In a few days, distinguished guests will arrive, so prepare accordingly."
"Guests... sir? From where, exactly, are these guests supposed to be...?"
As far as the secretary knew, there had been no such schedule.
He briefly thought they might be private guests, but the chance was slim.
Recently, the mayor had adamantly refused meetings with any outsiders.
To the questioning secretary, the mayor replied as he slowly took a step forward.
"From the Church of Luas."
It was a voice steeped in resignation.
***
From a small village in the northeast to Surdmil.
At the usual speed of a carriage, that distance would take more than two weeks.
But of course, that was only in ordinary cases.
If Archbishop Joseph led a group of priests and paladins on a forced march, they could arrive at their destination in just a few days.
If Verden were moving alone, he could shorten it even further, but it couldn't be helped.
This was not about an individual, but a group.
He intended to build a force capable of opposing the Bohemirn Magic Tower in the future, and thus he had to grow accustomed to moving together.
For with only solitary action, it would be impossible to achieve perfect revenge.
...
Night had fallen before they realized it.
Sturdy carriages, large enough to carry more than a dozen people with ease, pulled off the main road and stopped near a forest.
The paladins moved in perfect order, making preparations for the camp.
This time, however, they were spared much effort, for there was a capable magus among them.
Snap!
Verden snapped his fingers.
Flames burst forth and caught on the firewood, blooming into several campfires.
A magic circle spread over the entire campsite, infused with concealment and protection.
"Ah... ahem. Thank you."
After receiving thanks from a paladin, Verden returned to his seat, where Adrian was preparing ingredients.
"What are you doing?"
"I am making a meal for my lord, with my own hands."
"...I don't recall hearing that you could cook."
"It seems I never had the chance to show you...."
On their journey from the autonomous territory of Midros to Kailiens, Adrian had been injured.
And to shorten travel time as much as possible, most meals had been replaced with jerky and other dry rations.
"I cannot promise full satisfaction, but I can assure you, my lord will not be disappointed."
Living with his master, Adrian had often foraged near their hideout and prepared meals from what he gathered.
He could not create luxurious dishes, but he had some depth of skill in simple cooking.
Especially in his specialty, beef stew.
"At the very least, it will be far better than anything cooked by a priest."
Adrian whispered confidently.
For him to speak so firmly meant he had the ability to back it up.
There was no need to hesitate.
Verden nodded readily.
"Then I leave it to you."
"Please, entrust it to me, my lord."
And so, under Verden's watchful eyes, Adrian began cooking.
The result, in the end, was a stew that tasted far better than expected.
***
At the same time, elsewhere in the camp, Joseph was focused on removing the ancient curse that had befallen Bishop Lena.
From day until night, he continued the cleansing.
By the time late evening had arrived, the work was finally complete.
The archbishop's holy light, which had shone gently, faded away.
"It has been erased completely, you need not worry anymore. You have done well, Bishop Lena."
"Th-thank you, Archbishop!"
Bishop Lena stroked her right hand.
Her skin, fair and flawless without a blemish... though only a few days had passed since she was cursed, seeing it whole again brought great relief.
"My hand..."
"Congratulations, Bishop."
"Ah, thank you, Lady Leira! Thanks to you, I was able to meet the Archbishop. Otherwise, I might have lived with a cursed hand for quite some time...!"
"Well, I didn't exactly do anything... but in any case, let us go and eat."
"Yes!"
Leira and Bishop Lena each carried bowls of supper and sat down together in a quiet spot.
Joseph smiled warmly as he looked at the two of them.
Just then, two paladins approached, each holding three bowls.
Inside was a delicious-looking vegetable soup.
"Here it is, Archbishop."
"Oh, thank you. I was feeling hungry, and just the smell alone makes my mouth water."
Clink, clink.
Only the sound of spoons stirring filled the air.
Joseph ate quietly and happily, but soon cast a glance at the two paladins.
"..."
Their appearances were no different than usual, yet he could sense hesitation within.
Sensing this, Joseph spread a faint divine power, muffling any sound that might escape.
"Paladin Shane, Paladin Railver. It seems the two of you wish to ask me something."
"It is about the commission."
Shane replied immediately.
"Our current strength is by no means lacking. So why, then, did you request a commission to the point of sharing information about the Glory of the Dead with them? I wish to ask the reason."
During the carriage ride, Joseph had revealed to three of them the existence of the Glory of the Dead.
A name that the current Church of Luas regarded as highly confidential.
Railver agreed.
"Setting aside Asher, since he already knew, I wonder if it was necessary to tell the swordsman with the blood-red blade and the iron mask... that is my question as well."
"I see."
Joseph nodded as though in understanding.
"To be honest, the other two are merely branches. The one I am truly focused on, is that man called Asher."
Mage, Asher.
The two paladins also knew of him.
The one who slew bishops and ruined dioceses across the kingdom, who executed the two dark magi belonging to the Glory of the Dead.
The one who subjugated the high-ranked undead known as the Grim Reaper, summoned through the Orb of the Undead and the ritual ground.
The one who conquered Roafra, the largest underworld syndicate of the Eastern Continent.
Joseph continued.
"As you both know, our Church of Luas, serves the will of the Goddess, and upholds the light of the world."
Therefore.
"As Archbishop, is it not my duty to once, at least once, observe closely what kind of man it is who will one day influence the world so greatly?"
"...!"
The paladins were aghast.
To think that as one of the Seven Archbishops, he would evaluate someone so highly, that the other was such an existence, they had never imagined it.
Joseph smiled faintly and lifted his head.
His eyes, where holy light flickered, turned toward the distance, to Verden.
***
Morning began to break on a winter day.
Though the magic circle protected the camp, several paladins still kept watch without sleep, in case of any chance occurrence.
Before long, when the time came, they boarded the carriages again and moved onward.
Another similar day repeated.
During that time, whenever no eyes were upon him save Adrian's, Verden devoted himself to reading.
The Tome of Spatial Magic, given to him by the Elder of the Ark, the Transcendent of Space.
Whenever time permitted, he had been reading through it bit by bit...
'The progress is slower than I thought.'
Being a top-tier spatial attribute, it was extraordinarily difficult.
Moreover, each page was filled to the brim with complex diagrams and letters, leaving hardly any empty space, which made it even more so.
And since he advanced by testing the theories and spells he understood through the tome immediately with his own body, the pace could not help but be slow.
Still, he was not impatient.
For to learn a long-awaited attribute, to acquire new and powerful magic, in itself was fortune and blessing.
Verden was a pure mage, and a magus.
Rustle... rustle...
The pages turned slowly.
Time passed with them, and the sun sank and rose again over the horizon.
The inside of the carriage was steeped in stillness.
That silence was broken just then.
"We have arrived."
At last, they had reached their destination.
***
The city written in the invitation sent by the Glory of the Dead, Surdmil.
What lay hidden behind those gates?
What vile traps lay in wait... no one could predict with certainty.
Perhaps even now, a hellscape wrought by dark magic unfolded within the city.
If so, how should they enter?
The Archbishop's answer was all too simple.
"We will be discovered soon enough regardless, so there is no need for pointless stealth. Let us enter directly through the city gates."
Followers of light, unyielding to darkness.
It was the judgment of a world religion's authority, confident they could overcome whatever awaited.
No one raised objection.
Even those not of the Church of Luas felt the same.
Had the choice been Verden's, he would have chosen as the Archbishop did.
Rumble...
The carriages, lined one after another, approached Surdmil.
Within them, all who hid their presence were already prepared for battle.
Soon, inspection began.
But matters unfolded differently from any of the expected scenarios.
The guard captain, upon glimpsing Joseph's appearance, was shocked and bowed deeply.
"Ah! Revered priest, we sincerely welcome you to Surdmil."
The first to greet them was not a trap, but a welcome.
Verden, peering from within the carriage's gap, studied the guard captain's reaction.
'They know he comes from the Church of Luas... but not that he is an Archbishop.'
It was simply the expression one makes upon seeing an honored guest.
And yet, within the gaze fixed on Joseph lingered curiosity.
As though wondering what sort of man Joseph was, that the mayor would extend such treatment...
Soon, the guard captain bowed lower still and respectfully pointed toward the city.
"The mayor is waiting. Allow me to guide you there at once."
That was the end of the inspection.
No one searched the carriages, no identities were checked.
Mounted atop his horse, the guard captain himself assumed the role of guide, leading the procession of carriages.
In Verden's blue-gray eyes, the streets of Surdmil spread out.
'Ordinary.'
Lively enough, peaceful enough.
The scenery was little different from what he had seen in Riverungr.
It did not look like the stage for the dark sorcery of the sinister order called the Glory of the Dead.
"Hm, I feel nothing amiss happening within the city. What say you, my lord?"
"I feel the same."
Verden narrowed his eyes.
"We will know the details once we meet the mayor."
───Creeeeak.
At last, the carriages halted.
The place was within the inner walls of the city center.
Within that fortress lay the city hall, where the mayor awaited.
Most likely, just like the mayor of Riverungr, a man manipulated by the Glory of the Dead.
Naturally, this did not mean every person in the carriages would accompany them inside.
There had to be forces prepared to respond from without, as well as within.
Joseph gave his orders.
"Paladin Railver will guard me, Paladin Shane will command our people here and prepare against unforeseen events."
"Yes, Archbishop."
"And Asher, I ask you to accompany me."
"Understood."
Verden accepted.
As for the other two who had been commissioned as well...
"I will remain here."
"I will accompany my lord."
Thus the number who would face the mayor was narrowed to four.
"Ah, I was not told it would be four of you... no, never mind. Please, follow me."
The mayor's secretary, waiting at the entrance, nervously guided them into the fortress.
There was scarcely a trace of presence. The halls were nearly empty, deserted corridors.
Climbing several flights of stairs, they finally reached the upper floor.
"I, I was instructed only to guide you this far... so I shall take my leave."
With lips trembling, the secretary hurriedly excused himself and disappeared.
Silence pressed heavy before the door.
Joseph, hands clasped behind his back, let holy light faintly rise in his eyes.
"Though events have diverged from what we expected, it seems we have arrived at the right place. I sense the heavy taint of black magic within."
That was the signal.
Boom!
With a single kick, Railver shattered the latch and flung the door wide.
At once, they entered, qi, mana, and holy power all fully active.
Opposite them, two beings awaited.
Munch, munch.
Chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp.
One was a middle-aged man of massive bulk.
Even as he devoured food and drink in madness, his eyes bored straight into Joseph... most likely, the mayor of Surdmil.
For the other, was not human.
Seated beside the mayor, sharing the same table, was a certain man.
His skin, drained of all blood, was pale to the point of near-colorlessness.
He neither inhaled nor exhaled.
His white eyes bore not a trace of life.
A corpse, in truth.
Yet its fingers twitched, and at last, its mouth opened.
"Welcome to Surdmil, Archbishop Joseph."
A voice cracked and splintered like dry bark.
At the same time, the black magic entwined within the corpse surged forth, its power perceptible.
'At least sixth-tier or higher.'
Its exact level was impossible to judge.
But it was certainly stronger than Viola and Nosa, whom they had faced in the kingdom.
From that alone, Verden was certain.
The dark mage hiding behind the corpse was one of the executives of the Glory of the Dead.
Then, the corpse's eyes rolled, and its gaze shifted aside.
"I wondered what variable had arisen in Riverungr, and it seems that was you."
The corpse fixed its gaze.
"Asher."
The Glory of the Dead knew of Verden.
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