Jeanne looked at the crowd of villagers—filled with helpless resentment yet completely paralyzed by fear—and felt a heavy wave of exhaustion. How could people like this ever dream of returning to their abandoned homes alone, especially without anyone to protect them?
They knew all too well that going back meant nothing more than ending up as food for coastal beasts. The silent plea written across their desperate faces was undeniable; they didn't want her to leave.
"If you just walk away, what are we supposed to do? You already saved us, so why can't you just..."
Before the villager could even finish his sentence, Jeanne scooped Fafnir into her arms and vanished down the path. Her speed was so incredible that the group didn't even have a chance to chase after her, leaving them staring at the empty road where she had stood moments before.
What they did next, or how they chose to survive, was no longer Jeanne's concern. She had done everything in her power to help them; the rest was in the hands of fate.
Left behind in the dust, the villagers exchanged bewildered glances. None of them knew where to turn. They lacked the courage to venture into the wilderness alone, yet they refused to live under the watchful, suffocating eyes of the Inquisition.
Just as despair began to settle over the group, a man dressed in faded, suspicious robes stepped out from the brush. He looked over the stranded villagers, a deeply satisfied grin spreading across his face.
"Good gentlemen, if you find yourselves without a roof over your heads, would you care to come live in my sanctuary?" the man asked, putting on an air of gentle benevolence. "By the grace of the divine, I am always willing to take in the homeless. All I ask in return is that you assist me with a bit of honest labor!"
He carried himself like a holy man, drawing the villagers' attention immediately. For reasons they couldn't quite explain, he felt strangely comforting and trustworthy. Desperate for a lifeline, the group eagerly agreed to follow him.
The man's smile widened, becoming so broad that his sleeves visibly twitched, as though something was writhing beneath the fabric. He looked at the group before him as if they were a flock of helpless lambs waiting for the slaughter.
May the divine be praised; what a faithful servant I am! To find a whole new herd of sacrifices in such a short time... the Deep Sea God would surely be pleased with his devotion.
"These are his belongings. I'm handing them over to you," Jeanne said quietly, her mood heavy as she passed the brass lantern and dagger to the judge standing guard at the outpost.
The judge accepted the items in silence, offering no commentary. He harbored no suspicion toward Jeanne—she had been in the area for several days, and the judges had already formed a clear picture of her character.
"You should avoid wandering too far outside the perimeter for the next few days," the judge advised softly, stowing his fallen comrade's gear. "Things around here are getting unstable again. A pack of lunatics has cropped up nearby, abducting villagers to use as sacrifices. We've already dragged several of them into custody."
"The Deep Sea Church?" Jeanne asked instantly. Given what she knew about the cultists, such atrocities fit their usual pattern.
"No, just local madmen," the judge corrected with a bitter grimace. "Those zealots aren't even worthy of being called the Deep Sea Church. They're just deluded fools who saw coastal beasts and decided to worship them as gods. They aren't as organized or dangerous as the true cultists, but they're an absolute pain to clear out."
With that, the judge excused himself, holding his fallen brother's gear close as he headed back to arrange a quiet burial.
Jeanne didn't disturb him further. Turning away, she walked down the gloomy, muted streets of the settlement, taking in the somber atmosphere around her.
Townspeople scattered the moment she drew near, treating her as if she were carrying a plague. Word had already spread that her relationship with the Inquisition was unusually close; a single wrong move or glance from her might draw the judges' ruthless scrutiny upon them.
Although the Inquisition was the only force protecting these people from external horrors, that didn't mean the locals felt an ounce of gratitude. Their deep-seated resentment toward the judges was plain as day.
To the average citizen, the judges were nothing more than unhinged fanatics. No one knew when they might burst into a home, drag someone away under the accusation of belonging to the Deep Sea Church, and make them vanish forever.
Even if those arrested truly were cultists, it made no difference to the fearful public. They simply couldn't accept that the neighbors they lived alongside every day were secretly dangerous monsters. Over time, this growing paranoia had pushed the entire nation into a volatile, fractured state.
Jeanne realized that if it weren't for the terrifying sea threat constantly looming over their heads, these people would never willingly cluster around an Inquisition outpost, even if the only alternative was scraping by in the dangerous wilderness.
Human nature under crisis is truly complex...
"Hello there! I am a novice judge of the Inquisition!"
Just as Jeanne reached her quarters, a young girl wearing a neatly tailored coat stepped forward and offered a crisp greeting.
She wore the official uniform of the Inquisition, but unlike the blood-soaked, slime-stained garments of the veteran judges in the outpost, her robes were remarkably clean and well-kept.
"Hello," Jeanne replied, studying the compact Liberi girl with a hint of curiosity. "Can I help you with something?"
"Well... I have been ordered to investigate the recent cult activity in this district," the girl explained, sounding a bit tense. "I heard you are quite familiar with the lands outside the outpost, so I wanted to ask if you could share some information about the situation out there."
It was a task assigned directly by her teacher—one she was expected to complete without relying on the local Inquisition's authority. The girl couldn't shake the feeling that her old master simply wanted to watch her stumble and fail.
"I don't mind sharing what I know," Jeanne said smoothly. "Though wouldn't it be much easier for you to ask the local judges for assistance instead of coming to me? Why seek me out?"
Jeanne had only arrived a few days ago, so it seemed strange that a local investigator would pinpoint her as a primary contact.
"Because... the other judges are fully tied down with defensive duty, and this investigation is considered low-risk," the girl admitted after a brief pause, deciding to be entirely truthful. "My teacher instructed me to handle this independently."
"And why approach me specifically?" Jeanne pressed, looking closely at her.
"Because my teacher pays very close attention to you," the young Liberi admitted, casting a quick, curious glance at Jeanne. "Back at the Grand Inquisition, I overheard the Saint discussing your arrival. That made me realize you were someone I could trust. Since I am unfamiliar with this sector, finding a trustworthy ally was my top priority."
She couldn't help but wonder what kind of remarkable secret this girl held to earn such high regard from both her teacher and Saint Carmen.
Ah, so she came straight from the capital, Jeanne realized. Saint Carmen certainly moved quickly—he had already returned and set things in motion.
Noticing Jeanne's brief hesitation, the young Liberi assumed she was about to be turned down. She bowed her head, preparing to apologize and take her leave, but Jeanne spoke up first.
"Alright, I'll join you. I'm actually quite curious about these lunatics myself. Teaming up gives us both an advantage—at least we'll have someone to watch our backs out there."
Jeanne gave a warm nod. Having a local with official standing to handle the paperwork and logistics would make her own search much simpler.
"Since we're partners now, you should tell me your name. You can just call me Jeanne."
"I am Irene," the young Liberi replied, adjusting her rapier with a determined nod.