Chapter 11
The procession of Inquisitors entering Trista continued.
An Inquisitorial squad centered around Livain, the Inquisitor of Keen Iron.
A woman with flowing, lustrous water-colored hair blocked their path.
Esther Sol Siliad.
She stood facing them without a word.
"Pilgrim Esther. I didn't know you were here."
"I knew."
A bold answer.
The aura she exuded implicitly was extraordinary.
It was a contradiction to see her as a Pilgrim who hadn't found her sword.
'The genius who succeeded the Holy Maiden Stella.'
That was how the current Order viewed her. What Pilgrim could dare look so confidently at an Inquisitor bearing a sword sheath?
'If she finds her sword...'
How strong would she become?
Livain stared into Esther's blue eyes, which seemed to draw him in, and pondered.
"You must have come by Bishop Albatto's orders. He must have been curious about the truth regarding the apostate Kalias."
"Yes."
A monotonous answer, bordering on rude. But Livain continued without wavering.
"Is Sullivian well?"
Only then did an expression appear on Esther's face.
As her beautiful brows furrowed, an indescribable feeling welled up.
It was perhaps close to joy.
Esther turned her back without answering Livain's question.
He watched motionlessly until she disappeared, and only after she completely vanished from sight did he speak.
"Not a single footstep."
"Huh? Ah, so it is. I didn't notice."
"Just a year ago, Pilgrim Esther was chasing after me."
But seeing her again now.
"She is walking alongside me."
A fearsome rate of growth.
Livain watched the path she disappeared down for a long time, his eyes holding a hint of jealousy and fear.
"Let's go. Our objective is to find the apostate Kalias."
Before Esther Sol Siliad.
Find Kalias and secure the holy relic.
That is the top priority.
"In the worst-case scenario... we might end up crossing swords with her."
Saying it with distaste, Livain ordered a search of the entire Trista region.
* * *
"You bastard, look at that stiff neck. Let's see if you can still act so tough after getting beaten like a dog."
Tang! Tang!
The sharp gauntlets covering his hands clanked against each other, emitting metallic sounds.
Kalias's eyes shone sharply.
Those weren't simple gauntlets worn by knights.
What is also known as the Armguards.
A trace of a forgotten god.
'The last believer of the forgotten god, Cedric.'
A weapon forged by the miracle of the god he served. In other words, a Relic.
"Cedric Bor Madrichan."
"How dare a Pilgrim from some crumbling country call my name!"
"I've come to collect the debt on behalf of Artego, the herbalist of the West."
Flinch. Cedric's movement, who was about to pounce on Kalias like an agile panther, stopped in its tracks.
His color turned blue.
"A debt? I'm not a man who lives with such things as debts. You must be mistaken."
"I doubt you'd say you don't know the name of the herbalist Artego."
The herbalist said.
Cedric took a precious herb from him. That herb was for his only daughter.
But despite those efforts, the daughter died, and he arrived at the present.
"......"
Cedric's mouth clamped shut.
He seemed to be agonizing over it.
But Kalias wasn't worried.
If this wasn't enough, he had plenty more to say.
"Have you found the Oracle's Greaves?"
At those words, Cedric's face contorted viciously beyond measure.
But it was fleeting.
Ptui! Cedric spat and dismissed the casino's guards.
"You bastard... Follow me."
Cedric showed his broad back as he took out a new cigar from his suit's inner pocket.
Watching him, Kalias calmed his pounding heart.
Cedric, an executive of Crasion.
Cedric, the last believer of the forgotten god.
Cedric, who longed for his dead daughter.
He was one of Kalias's favorite characters on the Pilgrim's path, and also a figure difficult to build an affinity with.
'Right now, he's blue.'
But Kalias was certain.
He would soon turn gold.
* * *
Cedric Casino's office.
Sitting on the reception sofa, Kalias faced Cedric sitting before him.
Cedric Bor Madrichan.
A strongman among strongmen, possessing combat prowess that vied for 1st or 2nd place even in Crasion.
Currently, he was hiding his identity and潜伏 in Carpe, but if he revealed his true power, there would be no one here who could match him except Trista's master, Gerald.
"What the hell are you?"
Phew-
He asked, exhaling pure white cigar smoke like a long sigh.
The exhaled smoke drifted up along his body and disappeared into the ceiling.
"A Pilgrim. And the one who will collect the debt from you on behalf of the herbalist Artego."
"You know very well that's not what I'm asking."
At Cedric's beast-like growl, he instead sank deeper into the sofa backrest.
"Are you asking about the Twin Gods?"
Kalias smiled softly.
The Twin Gods.
Miracle and Oracle.
Miracle is the Armguards, Oracle is the Greaves.
Cedric is an apostle of the forgotten god who serves the gods who are two yet one.
In the distant past.
Tribes serving many gods existed, and all of them became entangled in war.
The winning tribes accumulated power, prospered, and formed nations, while the losing tribes faded into the back alleys of history and were forgotten.
Cedric is a man who serves such an ancient god.
Among them, the peculiar Twin Gods, Miracle and Oracle. It is a religion that has barely maintained its lineage, but now Cedric is the only one left who believes.
Religions serving gods possess holy relics, and without them, they cannot perform the god's miracles.
A religion without a god's miracles cannot gather believers, so Cedric has been searching for the Oracle's Greaves for a long time.
Only then can he lay the foundation for the religion's revival.
'But Cedric cannot find it.'
He will not find the holy relic, the Oracle's Greaves, until the day he dies.
Because those Greaves are...
"How did you know? No one in Crasion knows of my god. In this world, only two people know that I am a saint of Miracle."
Cedric's question shattered his thoughts.
Kalias looked at Cedric calmly and answered.
"Isn't there something more important than whether I know the Twin Gods? Cedric. You paying off your debt to me comes first. The matter of the gods comes after."
Boom!!
"You bastard. Do you really want to die?"
Cedric's patience had reached its limit.
The table shattered under his palm.
The importance and symbolism of a religion's holy relic are obvious. But precisely because of that, Kalias took his time even more.
In this world, no one knows the location where the Oracle's Greaves lie dormant.
Except. For the being who constructed this world and gave it its various settings.
Excluding Kalias himself.
'Still, this is a bit tough.'
The aura Cedric exuded and the implicit killing intent contained within it were immense.
He was feigning composure to the fullest, but he couldn't hide the beads of sweat forming on his lower back.
Cedric's current martial prowess made him a powerhouse that could be counted on one hand even in the Carpe Kingdom, excluding the five Paladins.
If they fought seriously, he could literally die in an instant.
But precisely because of that.
'I must be certain.'
He must not be turned into an enemy.
A half-hearted alliance? Friendship? Even worse.
An ambiguous relationship only fuels suspicion and invites the shadow of death.
He had to forge a proper, unbreakable relationship to increase his survival rate.
In Carpe, where he had nowhere to lean on, just having a connection with a strongman like Cedric could turn a crisis into an opportunity.
'Only then will I survive.'
Having organized his thoughts, he reached for the teacup prepared on the table.
The tea set was quite high-end.
A limited-edition teacup set crafted by a master.
It was clearly a teacup he cherished, one of Cedric's few hobbies.
If he accidentally broke it, Cedric's fist would fly at him immediately, but...
'I need to take the initiative.'
Kalias carefully held the teacup and took a sip of tea.
"Speak quickly. Before my fist shatters every single one of your teeth."
Cedric demanded with bloodshot eyes.
Drawing it out ends here.
"Cedric. I am the only one in this world who knows where the Oracle's Greaves are. Do you think such an attitude is appropriate?"
"I see. I should grab you right now, hang you upside down, and use you as a sandbag. Then your tongue will spit out the truth."
Gulp.
Without changing his expression at the threat, Kalias placed both hands on his legs and interlaced his fingers.
"You must have already finished investigating me. That kind of threat won't work."
"Yeah. The pillar of Carpe. The disgraceful bastard from the prestigious Jervan family. With no talent in swordsmanship, and trash who only peeked under women's skirts even in the Order. That was you, Kalias von Jervan."
"...I never peeked under any skirts, that's strange."
"The fact that you were the black sheep of the Order was famous enough without needing to investigate."
Well, the face is a bit handsome.
Where would a scoundrel go?
It was just unfair to be blamed for something he hadn't even done.
"So I was curious. The swordsmanship I saw from you wasn't to that level. No matter how highly regarded the Jervan name is, it wasn't to the point of disowning you. Moreover, the eldest son..."
Cedric looked at Kalias with a peculiar expression.
"It's been three years since you became a Pilgrim. What on earth happened to you?"
But Kalias didn't answer.
He only demanded.
"That's exactly what you don't need to know. Cedric. What I want is the same as the beginning."
"...It seems you are a scoundrel. Looks like you can't understand words until you're beaten."
Cedric readjusted the cigar in his mouth.
Kalias's eyes flashed.
It was then.
Cedric's fist moved.
Bear Claw Cedric.
True to his moniker, the bastard's fist rushed right before his eyes in an instant.
A speed he couldn't even react to.
Whoosh!! A fierce wind ruffled Kalias's black hair.
He couldn't move an inch with the bear-like giant fist right in front of him.
"...Tsk."
Cedric withdrew his fist.
His gaze was fixed on the teacup Kalias was holding.
'Phew.'
If he hadn't been holding the teacup?
Cedric's fist would have surely struck his face. Kalias would have become a bloody pulp with that single blow.
"Cedric. Don't you know who's holding the cards right now? You'd better not do anything pointless. If you lay a single finger on my body, you'll never find the Oracle's Greaves."
"......"
Cedric, who glared at him as if trying to kill him for a long while, sat his butt back on the sofa.
Flop.
"What is it. What you want."
Only then did Kalias put down the teacup and pulled up the corners of his mouth.
"There is only one thing I want. Cedric."
"So what is it, you bastard."
With you.
"I want to become brothers."
"...What?"
Cedric's face contorted.
* * *
Brothers of the same rank, without hierarchy.
That was the condition and wish I wanted from Cedric.
Cedric looked at me like I was a madman and didn't believe me at all.
But I negotiated with him using the Oracle's Greaves as a weapon, and eventually.
'See you later, then, brother.'
I became brothers with him.
"Brother."
The word "brother" is strangely binding.
Cedric probably knows that bind too. That's why he refused at first, and accepted later.
Of course, right now they are brothers in name only, and he won't completely trust me.
However, as time goes by, he will come to think of me as a brother.
Cedric is that kind of man.
On the outside, he is barbaric and cold-hearted.
But he is a man with a lot of lingering affection.
'He's still blue, but...'
The moment doubt turns to trust.
He will turn gold.
"Phew- I'm exhausted."
-Click. This is the room Cedric offered, telling me to go in and rest for now.
A VVIP room on the top floor of the casino.
The spacious room was filled with expensive ornaments and furniture.
The view of the Trista Fountain Square seen through the living room window and the feast of lights illuminating the dawn allowed a glimpse into one side of the entertainment city.
"That emblem is..."
The symbol of the Valterus Order is a single sword resembling a cross.
"The crossed red sword emblem symbolizes the Inquisitors, but why is it here...?"
Is there an apostate here?
"Well, it has nothing to do with me."
Whoever apostatizes or not.
Now is not the time to worry about anyone else.
I immediately washed off the blood on my body with the prepared water and flopped down on the bed.
The soft bed felt as if it was warmly embracing me.
It's been quite a while.
This kind of comfort. I had mostly repeated nights camping out or spending the night in shabby inns and stables.
Since it's a place managed by Cedric, there probably won't be a sudden rain of blades.
A strange sense of relief brings on sleepiness.
"Tomorrow, I'll go to the Trish Auction House to buy some holy water ingredients... and go down to the basement to see if there are any good artifacts."
Unintentionally, I came into a lot of money.
Three thousand gold coins.
Wealth obtained thanks to gambling. An amount equivalent to several years' worth of taxes from a great lord.
"Cedric will manage the money, so I don't need to worry about it."
I also received certificates and checks that can only be used in large cities like Trista.
In the first place, Cedric isn't the kind of man who would play tricks with my money.
'It would be nice if there were some good artifacts... There should be some usable ones.'
If not, I could ask Cedric to get some for me. Artifacts are also called imitations of holy relics, after all.
There might be something usable in Cedric's possession.
"Tomorrow..."
Eyelids sliding shut.
Drowsiness overwhelms me.
Click.
But then. The sound of a door that shouldn't open was heard opening.
Swish.
I slowly reached out and grabbed the Arsando beside the bed.
Step, step.
Footsteps approaching.
When the guy got close enough.
Shring!
The blue blade of the Arsando stopped in front of the uninvited guest's neck.
"Gasp!"
"...What do you want?"
"M-My lord...!"
I thought it was some assassin.
It was none other than Brans.
"You were alive."
"O-Of course!"
I didn't know because I didn't care.
'I did think I cut you shallowly.'
He was much more fine than I thought.
"Hehe, Brans isn't someone who'd die to the sword of a guy who can't even hold a sword properly! It was just a shallow cut, so I just applied some spit and came!"
Brans said so and showed his wound, but it seemed he had applied good medicine and treatment for the sword wound.
"Who did this for you?"
"The casino people did it, sir. Even the bandages smell nice."
It seemed Cedric took care of it.
'Well, I did call him my squire.'
I said it to create a justification for killing Ged.
Kalias looked at Brans as if it was absurd and let out a hollow laugh.
"Seems they let you in because I said you were my squire."
"Yes!"
"But you're not really my squire, are you?"
At Kalias's blunt words, Brans bowed his head to the pillow as if he had been waiting for this.
"This Brans! I may be a thug of Trista, but today I fell for Master's bold gambling skills and ruthless swordsmanship! Please let me follow you in anything from now on!"
"...That's sudden."
He had practically used him as a shield, yet this attitude...
'He either has ulterior motives or is an idiot.'
It had to be one of the two. Of course, Kalias leaned more towards the latter.
"Please accept me as your squire! I'll do anything!"
"...Good grief. What a funny guy."
Thanks to him, my sleep completely vanished.
Kalias packed the Arsando and put on his coat, preparing to go out.
"Where are you going?"
"The Black Market. I was planning to go tomorrow, but since I'm awake, I'll go check it out now."
The Trish Auction House.
The so-called Black Market. There would be items that would disappear once today passed.
"Uh... Then I will..."
Glancing at Brans, Kalias smirked and raised the corners of his mouth.
"Tag along if you want."
"Yes sir!!"