Chapter 4
The capital of the Carpe Kingdom, Kaladi.
There, the bishops of each branch had gathered at the kingdom's grand Valterus Cathedral, built with magnificent splendor.
Bang!
"I mean, those damnable bastards are currently ransacking the north! Yet you say we'll dispatch Inquisitors to the west now—what kind of nonsense is that!"
It was Bishop Albato of the moderate faction.
His shiny bald head was flushed red as he spewed forth his heated argument.
The reason was Bishop Milliman of the radical faction sitting on the opposite side.
"It's because you flare up so often that you have no hair left."
Veins bulged on Albato's forehead.
"That wispy hair of yours is nothing but a nuisance anyway."
"Still, it's better to complain when you have it than when you don't. Haha."
"If you don't want every last strand pulled out today, you'd best answer my question, Bishop Milliman!"
Bang!
At the severity of Albato slamming the table, Milliman cleared his throat.
"It's obvious that our order will collapse if we don't defend the northern reaches of Carpe! Yet you insist on concentrating our insufficient forces in the west—what reason is there!"
Then Bishop Milliman, unlike Albato, stroked his abundant hair and long beard, answering as if it were obvious.
"Hasn't the north always been like this? It's the breeding season of monsters and the White Forest is particularly raucous this time of year. Moreover, unlike the west, there's no physical evidence of heretics appearing in the north."
Bishop Milliman and the radical faction bishops beside him all nodded in agreement.
"Hmm..."
Unfortunately, his words were true.
The north was barren land, a place constantly teeming with snow and monsters.
No matter how mad for swords the pilgrims of Valterus were, devout ones rarely went on pilgrimages there.
Thus, hearing accurate circumstances was always difficult, and the physical evidence those radical bastards spoke of was never clear.
"But the west is different. Reports have already come in of heretic traces in the west."
Furthermore.
"The fact that Arthando's identity, who was sent to Toret, has become unclear—that is regarding the holy relic of the god Valterus. You cannot help but know when you see the Acushium."
One of the holy relics of the Valterus Order.
Acushium.
Bishop Albato looked at the Acushium placed in the middle of the great round table.
'The holy relic of light bearing the miracle of the god Valterus, Acushium.'
The center of the circular, concave round table was filled with water.
Above the kingdom's terrain indicated by the ripples, numerous lights of various colors resided. The different colored lights according to the grade of divine power indicated the locations of pilgrims.
Bishop Milliman pointed to the western region.
The Toret region, with his finger, and spoke.
"Certainly, Arthando is a pilgrim with 5th-grade divine power. But everyone here knows that his swordsmanship and divine power are considerably too high to be called 5th-grade."
However.
"That Arthando has died."
Arthando's light had disappeared last night.
"Whether he has gone to the god's side or become a corpse is not clear."
"But Bishop Milliman. There were two lights of pilgrims in Toret. If one disappeared, they might have had a duel of swords."
A duel of swords.
An act where pilgrims crossed swords to confirm each other's skills and determine a winner.
That was what it was called, but in truth, it referred to the fratricide committed by those blinded by the desire to forge outstanding swords.
But despite Bishop Albato's rebuttal, Bishop Milliman once again pointed to the single light in Toret.
"This light is Callias's light."
"Callias!?"
"You mean that scoundrel of the Zerban family?"
Milliman slowly nodded his head.
"You've all heard the stories at least."
Callias von Zerban.
The young lord of Count Zerban, the hegemon of the north.
The eldest son of the Zerban family, a renowned house of swordsmanship.
And.
"The scoundrel of the Zerban family, you say."
"That's right. Pilgrim Callias was quite famous even within the order."
Callias von Zerban.
His father, Count Zerban, the sharp blade of the north, wanted to entrust his eldest son to the Valterus Order.
The order rejoiced at the enormous donation, but soon could only end up with long faces.
It was because Callias's scoundrel behavior exceeded imagination.
"Callias, the scoundrel of scoundrels and filial impiety incarnate, was quite a headache within the order."
Bishop Albato of the moderate faction recalled five years ago.
'The eldest son abandoned by Zerban.'
Despite being the eldest son of Zerban, called a house of swordsmanship, he had no talent for the sword and was an incurable case full of the arrogance and bluster typical of nobles.
Despite having barely any ability, he would ride on his family's name and frequently look down on the commoner-born monks within the order.
If only that were the end of it.
He constantly tormented monks who fell out of his favor and employed every method to insult them, so those who left the order were beyond counting.
As if that wasn't enough, Callias gathered the young lords of noble families who had devoted themselves to the order and roamed about committing every bad deed imaginable within the order.
When he became a pilgrim and set out on his pilgrimage, how eagerly did the entire order rejoice and celebrate his pilgrimage?
"To think he's still alive..."
"Pardon?"
"Ah, nothing."
Albato gathered the words he had let slip without realizing.
"But what of it? What I'm asking is why Arthando's death and Callias's existence lead to the conclusion of sending an Inquisitor."
At Albato's words, Bishop Milliman nodded and answered.
"Bishop Albato."
"What is it."
"Bishop, do you think Callias could cross swords with Arthando and win?"
"That is..."
Impossible.
Callias, who had no talent whatsoever for the sword, could never defeat Arthando even if he died and came back to life.
Arthando was a pilgrim with promising talent even within the order.
How could Callias possibly win against someone like him?
He even had a record of losing in sparring against monks half his age.
His swordsmanship was about the level of a young monk.
Him defeating Arthando?
"I deem it impossible."
It was indeed an absurd notion.
"But..."
"Of course, he could have met with an unfortunate accident. But rather than that slim probability, I am convinced of the existence of heretics, as per the report that came up earlier."
"The true meaning of those words..."
Callias and the heretics.
It was the ominous suspicion that something existed between the two.
"Do you remember Ruteon, the young lord of the Marquis family who ran around with Callias?"
"I know of him."
How could he not remember when he was a scoundrel who formed a pair with Callias.
"Recently, Ruteon's light disappeared."
"Such a thing..."
"But according to a recent report, Ruteon is alive. In his hand was a spear instead of a sword."
"Don't tell me!!"
The god of the sword, Valterus.
The god of the spear, Lactus.
"Ruteon has apostatized."
Crash!!
Startled, Albato's chair let out a dull noise.
Ruteon was a scoundrel enough to form a pair with Callias, but when it came to swordsmanship, he was a genius vying for the top position.
For someone like him to apostatize!
"He became a heretic of the spear god, Lactus."
To devote himself to a god who was no different from a sworn enemy and become a heretic! Regret transformed into rage and sublimated.
"So what about Callias?"
"Are you saying there's a high possibility that Callias has also apostatized?"
"That's right. Moreover, the west is a place with abundant traces of heretics. The place where the apostate Ruteon was last seen was also the west."
Bishop Milliman of the radical faction was asserting that Callias had made contact with heretics and killed Arthando.
"Arthando was carrying out a mission regarding the possibility of a holy relic buried in Toret. We cannot take lightly the news that such a person has died."
A man who shouldn't have died has died in a place with traces of heretics.
Therefore, they had no choice but to suspect.
It was a natural course of action.
"I, Milliman, judge that there is a high possibility Callias has apostatized! I propose the motion to dispatch Inquisitor Raiburn of the Iron to Toret!"
"Hmm..."
The round table.
Among the bishops seated around the Acushium.
No one could rebut Milliman's opinion.
'Inquisitor Raiburn of the Iron...'
Albato shook his head.
There was no need to speak of his devout faith, but the Inquisitors were famous for the severity of their zealotry.
Albato thought that the moment the Inquisitor met Callias.
Whether he was an apostate or not, the result would be the same.
* * *
The same time.
Tret Lord's Castle.
"Ggggrrrr."
Shaking his head, Callias downed his wine in one shot and let out a vigorous exclamation, enjoying the alcohol that firmly took hold.
"What are you looking at? I'm merely drinking the blood of my fathers."
"......"
Just say you're drinking wine, Leone thought as he sat across from Callias with a bitter smile.
Beside him were stacked dozens of empty plates, and the large oak barrel that had been full of wine had also revealed its bottom.
Leone looked at Callias with admiring eyes.
"Is there no dessert? My mouth feels rough."
The finances were already tight as it was.
Still, since he was a benefactor, he had emptied his pockets to serve him, but...
"Dessert..."
Glancing around, the servants were desperately shaking their heads.
There was nothing more to give Callias, and it meant that if they made more food, they'd end up on the streets.
"None? I was tricked by Leomery. She said if I returned you as a corpse to your family's embrace, she'd serve me lavishly..."
"My mother's name is Leoneir, Pilgrim."
"Ah, right. My tongue is already twisting from the wine."
Cough. Clearing his throat, Callias rose from the table piled high with dishes.
"Where are you going?"
"I've lost my appetite, so I think I'll take a look around the nearby forest."
"Pardon? Lost your appetite, what..."
Then what was all the food he had just eaten?
Leone couldn't understand how Callias's stomach worked.
"You found a mine, didn't you? I'd like to see it."
"Yes? How did you... It's strictly confidential, so even the mercenaries outside don't know about it well."
Arthando Mirinae sweeps away the bandits and discovers the cave that was their hideout.
Soon realizing that the place was not simply a cave but a mine where certain ore could be found, Leone develops the mine, and Toret grows into a wealthy city in the west.
'This much is the setting I provided.'
Beyond that, I don't know.
Revising the content rejected by the company hundreds of times, receiving feedback, and revising it again hundreds of times.
I couldn't even tell anymore whether it was a story I wrote or one someone else had added to.
That period lasted ten years, so what more is there to say. Besides, Pilgrim's Sword is a game.
Since the story he wrote was slightly modified and incorporated, there were many places where the fine details were roughly skipped over.
'I need to check once.'
How the parts I glossed over actually come about.
"Leone."
"Yes, Pilgrim Callias."
"Callias is enough."
"Yes! Lord Callias."
"I have received a divine revelation."
"A d-divine revelation!!"
Leone's eyes went wide.
"It was a divine revelation to watch over Toret. As one who has become a child of the god, I must see the state of the mine situated here."
"So that was it!"
"...Hmm?"
"Ever since you appeared at just the right moment to save me, I'd been thinking that must be it! Lord Callias, you were an emissary sent by the god Valterus! A saint of the god!"
"Hmm... something like that."
It's convenient that he misunderstands on his own, but the look in his eyes is a bit burdensome.
"...Guide me to the mine. There might be monsters there, so I shall take a look."
"Ah! Understood!"
Believing wholeheartedly the words Callias spoke as if granting a favor, Leone guided him to Toret's mine.
A short while later.
Looking at something situated in the mine, Callias's expression crumpled.
"Why is this here...?"
Before him was an herb the order had lost.
The ingredient for the holy water called the Tears of Valterus was in full bloom.