CH 60

A week later, I was summoned to the royal court. Bishop Andrei seemed to have reached an agreement with the Kingdom of Kairos. With my cooperation in the purge, the Holy Land had decided to let the matter of the crown vandalism slide. I accepted the greetings of the palace guards with a grimace.

“A summons; it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. It’s been almost half a year since I’ve been summoned for anything other than a ceremony.”

Georg muttered. It wasn’t a formal occasion, so he was dressed with minimum decorum. Daphne had been refining her mana circles, and her air was different. Perhaps she had reached the end of Fifth Circle and was knocking on the door of the Sixth Circle. Her growth has been uninterrupted as the walls that stood in her way have crumbled. ‘I feel like a parent looking at their child.’

“Doomsday cults. I’ve heard rumors of it but never thought it existed.”

“I’ve never heard of them. Who would worship apocalypse and catastrophe.”

Georg’s words made Daphne shake her head in disbelief. Marianne was silent beside them, as always, but her silence felt different. I glanced over at her, then resumed my walk, straightening my stride.

“The fact that they’ve been caught suggests they may already be up to something.”

Georg said, frowning. Daphne swallowed dryly, rubbing her arm.

“They can only worship the Disasters because they’ve never seen one, right?”

“Some people say things like that because they’ve seen it.”

I said grimly. I don’t know if they were mesmerized by their power or if they were worshippers of an evil god. They could also be many people who’ve come to resent others.

“But it will be very different from what you’ve done.”

Daphne nodded, turning her head toward Marianne.

“Still, we can’t send you alone, so you’ve made a good choice, Elroy.”

“I think so, too. Anyway, it’s better than being torn apart, and it’s weird for us to stay put now that we know about the cults.”

Marianne spoke up, her voice smaller than usual.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, if someone has to be sorry, it should be Elroy. After all, he decided to drag us all away. Isn’t that right, Elroy?”

Georg playfully accepted Marianne’s apology and looked at me. I looked back at him and raised one corner of my mouth.

“I’m not really sorry.”

“You’re an arrogant, conscienceless animal.”

Georg grunted and picked up his stride, outpacing me. Daphne, observing our antics, chuckled and turned to Marianne.

“There’s no need to apologize to us. In times like these, all you have to do is say thank you for coming along.”

Marianne blinked her golden eyes at Daphne. She was usually so soft-spoken and mature. However, seeing her like this reminded me she was the youngest party member.

“Yes… thank you.”

Of course, her expression didn’t change at all.

We walked through the vast corridors of the palace, guided by the guards. The occasional noble we passed reacted in one of two ways: they either quickly averted their eyes or bowed humbly. None of them seemed to want to use me anymore.

“Inside, Her Majesty is waiting with the Bishop, and I’m told the Bishop has brought another group of men to assist him….”

The guard stopped before the conference room and glanced at the closed door.

“You’ll find out more when you get inside.”

The guard knocked loudly on the door three times, and with a rattling sound, the doors to the conference room swung open on either side. The first thing I saw was the Queen.

“Elroy the Hero greets Her Majesty the Queen.”

I curtsied to the Queen first, then glanced away to take in the scene in the room. Bishop Andrei was seated across from the Queen. There were also a few people in priestly robes I didn’t recognize. Probably the Inquisitors, Bishop Andrei’s subordinates.

But I frowned at the people seated between the inquisitors and the Bishop.

‘What are they doing here?’

***

Typically, winter in Evernode refers to the period from October through mid-April. Of course, that’s what people call it, but as the end of August approaches, there’s no warmth left to call summer, and a chill begins to creep into the air.

“You are skilled, as expected from the Mercenary.”

Arjen nods bluntly at the knight’s praise. The knights and soldiers of the North were not pleased with Arjen and Iris, to say the least, and were still wary and difficult to deal with. Whether they were suspicious of him or not, Arjen didn’t mind, but there was one thing that did get on his nerves a bit.

“Well, yes. He did quite well the first time he went out on patrol.”

Was their respect for the Hero.

“That’s too bad. If you’d stayed with the Hero’s Party, you could have seen all the glory that life has to offer.”

Arjen felt a surge of irritation at the mention of the word hero, whether it was a knight or Archduke Quenor. The fact that he had fulfilled the ideals he had spoken of before the Kraken, that he hadn’t had to sacrifice something in the process, irritated Arjen.

He recalled what happened in Bactins. He didn’t want the people to suffer, but he felt he had no choice; if they hadn’t followed his plan, they’d all be dead: the Hero, Saintess, himself, and the wounded and screaming people of Bactins.

“What I really want to know is, why would the Hero let someone as strong as you go?”

Arjen was too strong for the knights to silence. They might have gotten away with it if it had been Georg or Marianne, but Arjen’s strength was already so high that he was a step below the Archduke. If he wanted to cause a problem, they would have no means to stop him.

“None of your business. I did my job. If he hadn’t kicked me out, I would have been the one to quit the party.”

Arjen replied. The knight who had accompanied him was looking at him with narrowed eyes. He gritted his teeth, turned, and walked away.

“He did not recognize me, and I did not recognize him. That’s it.”

“…Right. I see.”

There are no heroes. Saving everyone is, after all, a pipe dream.

Arjen, the Mercenary, sheathed his sword. He remembered the face of the madman who had spoken of the need to go to the extremities, his face so cold, the look in his eyes when he had said that he would be the one to carry firewood into the fire. Self-sacrifice is a deception. He couldn’t accept it. One man’s way of life was another man’s poison.

“He said something ridiculous and yet….”

Arjen stood at the gate of the outer castle and looked out over the streets of Evernode. No pain, no heartbreak, no nothing. Someone might be sad, but they were soon comforted.

“Fuck.”

He swore under his breath and returned his horse to its stall. He didn’t feel like staying here much longer; it was too different from the world he knew. The world the Mercenary knew wasn’t quite warm enough to accept him. His mouth was bitter. After all, this was what the Hero had achieved, what he could not. He could taste the blood from biting his lips too hard.

“Arjen.”

Waiting for Arjen as he emerged from the stables was one of the Saintess’ entourage. Arjen sighed, cleared his throat, and greeted the priest.

“What’s going on?”

“The decision has been made to leave Evernode. The Saintess and the Archduke are waiting for you.”

Arjen nodded and started to walk away. There was no post-war recovery, so he’d expected to leave sooner rather than later, but he couldn’t help but feel it was a little abrupt.

“We haven’t done much yet.”

“The Holy Land has summoned us, and it seems they have more pressing matters than restoring this place.”

‘Urgent?’ Arjen frowned. Isis was in trouble.

“We’ll talk about it inside.”

The manor’s conference room door opened before the priest could knock. The mood in the room was more severe than Arjen had expected. Iris was speaking with a serious expression on her face. The normally sullen, expressionless Archduke was also conversing with a stony face. At the sound of the door opening, they both looked up simultaneously at Arjen.

“…Mercenary, have a seat.”

As Arjen took his seat, the priest leading the conversation between the Archduke and Iris sighed. He was a middle-aged priest, the leader of the recovery support crew.

It would be best to tell you the story from the beginning.

The priest pushed his glasses halfway up his nose and turned to face the mercenary.

“The Doomsday Cultists have resurfaced, Arjen. Have you heard any stories about them?”

Arjen nodded. He hadn’t spent a dozen years living off the sword for nothing and was aware of a group called the Doomsday Cult.

“I thought they were a dying breed.”

“They were never close to extinction. They’ve been lurking in the back alleys and undergrounds of the world, away from the eyes of the Kingdom of Kairos and the Holy Land. That was until the attack of the Third Disaster and the movement of the Fourth Disaster gave them the confidence to go out into the open again.”

Arjen frowned. It was true that the arrival of the Disaster was the perfect time for them to become active. But to increase their strength quickly, to the point where they were on the radar of the major powers…

“While they have resumed their activities within the Kingdom of Kairos, the Holy Land is not uninvolved in this, and we have decided to take the lead in hunting them down. We have also gained the cooperation of the Kingdom with this matter.”

The priest summarized the situation succinctly, and Arjen shared the same expression as everyone else in the room. He was no stranger to how evil the Doomsday Cult could be. Some of the things he’d heard about in his mercenary days were enough to make even the bravest shudder.

“Since the Holy Land is moving, does this mean the Saintess must act as well?”

The priest nodded at Arjen’s question.

“Yes. You’ll probably be accompanying the Inquisitors as they investigate where the doomsday cultists have appeared. They’ll handle the dirty work while you handle the local populace and work with the Church to care for the victims.”

‘Inquisitors, those fanatics.’ Arjen frowned slightly, and Archduke Quenor, who had been listening to the story, sighed.

“They are nasty. I can’t help but think they might have gotten their hands in Evernode, too.”

“…This place will probably be fine.”

Archduke Quenor smiled bitterly at Iris’s reply.

“Bittersweet. There’s no need to unsettle the residents, but I’ll surely increase our security patrols without their knowledge, especially in the back alleys where our eyes don’t usually reach. For now, thank you for the valuable information.”

The Archduke thanked the priest, then turned to Arjen.

“Will you continue to accompany the Saintess? I’ve heard that you’re not obligated to stay with her.”

“…No. I’m hired, so I’ll escort her to the end.”

As Arjen said this, he looked at Iris, who was visibly uneasy. He wondered if she had a reason to be so anxious.

“…Very well. Good luck.”

The Archduke looked like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head and stood up.

“Thank you for supporting us in Evernode, and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

“I did what I had to do, and thank you for your warm welcome during a difficult time.”

A strong sense of guilt washed over Iris’ face as she talked. In the weeks since reaching Evernode, it only grew deeper.

She walked out of Stroff Manor, gathering her things. The priest watched her trudge ahead and sighed.

“I suppose this is the way to go, but it will be a long journey.”

Arjen looked back at the priest, who cast a shadow over his face.

“Is there something else going on?”

“Well…”

Arjen asked, impatience in his voice, and the priest glanced at Iris and lowered his voice.

“The last sightings of the doomsday cult was in the ruins of Bactins.”