Hamel’s expectation that everything would go well came true.
But not in the way he’d imagined.
─Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud
The very next day a column of people appeared, kicking up dust.
Dozens of horsemen and a long line of carriages. At the very front, a flag bearing a familiar emblem fluttered.
“That lily-of-the-valley emblem… it’s the Holy Pilgrim Knights.”
“Yes.”
Hamel nodded calmly at Ono’s words. The scene gave him déjà vu—the exact same thing had happened earlier in Haidern. It wasn’t hard to guess who had come: at the front he saw a person in a purple phylioleus urging the horses.
Bishop Arcen. He had arrived with countless supplies.
“Your Grace.”
“Hamel! Long time no see.”
Bishop Arcen leapt down from his horse and greeted Hamel. His movements still betrayed a man in his sixties. At the same time, the person who dismounted beside him also waved.
“Long time no see, the lord.”
“Even Eleora…”
Eleora Saint Winterborn—the one who had helped kill Lamia and parted ways at Haidern harbor—was here.
Hamel had no idea what was going on. If a missive had been sent asking for help, it wouldn’t have had time to arrive yet. How, then, had they known and come to assist?
Unusually flustered, Hamel asked, “How did you get here…?”
“Thanks to Cardinal Eleora,” Bishop Arcen said with a broad smile.
Eleora shrugged. “Didn’t I say I had business with the Lettria branch of the order?”
“I remember.”
“It was to warn them about Inquisition officers—specifically those attached to the Purification Corps—about irregularities.”
“…!”
Only then did Hamel understand. The order had sensed something too; they had dispatched Eleora—once called the strongest Exorcist priest—to the eastern branch where the Purification Corps operated, intending for Bishop Arcen to be warned about them.
But…
“The Purification Corps’ inquisitors must have already been dispatched to this domain, Solmer.”
“Correct. Your deductive skills never cease to amaze, Hamel.”
Bishop Arcen looked at Hamel as if in wonder, then glanced around and continued. “We sent them here at your request. In pursuing them we found you here, so we inferred that something must have happened…” His eyes fell on the refugees filling the castle. He nodded as if to say, I thought so.
“It seems that gloomy prediction was correct.”
“Yes.”
Hamel nodded slowly.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Of course.”
Hamel hesitated over where to begin. The beginning of it all was Rengbaster. He realized he had no choice but to explain the chain of ill fate that started there.
“Follow me.”
They were momentarily puzzled by his words. Bishop Arcen and Eleora followed him and encountered a woman tending to wounded refugees with a haggard face.
“Aileen.”
“……”
Aileen turned her head listlessly. She looked like a doll whose soul had been emptied.
“…Aren’t you Aileen Rengbaster, the lord of the Rengbaster domain?” Bishop Arcen recognized her without difficulty. Eleora belatedly greeted her, but Aileen only nodded.
“You didn’t… speak?”
“Yes.”
Hamel nodded and led Aileen to the Reception room. The room held nothing notable, but it was suitable for conversation.
“What on earth happened?”
At the bishop’s question, Hamel began to speak slowly: the super-class demon that appeared in the Rengbaster domain and the tragedy that befell the family; the Purification Corps’ inquisitors who came for Aileen Rengbaster; what drove Aileen to seek revenge in Solmer; and the malevolent god Marvas that ran through it all. He told them everything.
“What is…”
“This is just the beginning.”
Hamel then recounted what had happened in Solmer: the inquisitors’ atrocities and Aileen’s becoming a servant of demons; the demons’ domain hidden in the eastern mountains and the end of Marvas’s apostle, Vlad Chepeșh.
After hearing the whole story, the two sat in silence for a long while. The tales were hard to believe—but if his account was true, it explained the mysteries so far.
The bishop finally asked with a complex expression, “So you mean that malevolent god actually appeared?”
“Yes.”
“Good heavens… how can beings fit for ancient records appear…”
Hamel had met Ehuurshika in the mental realm: a benevolent god and a malevolent god—Ehuurshika and Marvas. The difference in stature between the two was surprisingly small. If what Apophis had told Hamel was true, the line between good and evil blurred even further.
Silence fell again—not from lack of questions, but because there were too many. How had he met such beings and returned alive? How powerful and dangerous were a god’s apostles? Could a city of nearly a thousand demons really exist? He could have asked endlessly, but he couldn’t: Hamel looked exhausted and Aileen seemed hollowed out.
“Is she all right?”
Hamel nodded at Eleora’s question. “If you mean physically, she’s fine. Apostle Vlad Chepeșh is dead and she has returned fully to being human.”
“But why…”
Eleora watched Aileen, who listened like a doll. Hamel answered slowly; he wasn’t certain, but he had guesses. Aileen had gone to exact revenge on Marvas, the nemesis of her house. In the Solmer domain she met inquisitors more vicious than demons and became a demon herself. Above all, she realized the massacre of the Rengbaster family might not have been the work of demons.
Hamel had told her this: Marvas is a malevolent god who pursues efficiency. Would such a god bother to massacre the useless Rengbaster family and leave only Aileen alive? It was hard to believe. If anything, Aileen grew hostile toward Marvas because of that event. Marvas would not undertake such superfluous deeds. Then who committed such an act? To find out, they looked at who benefited from it—and the one who profited was…
‘Probably the work of another faction trying to check Marvas.’
Hamel firmly believed the Purification Corps was deeply connected to that faction. Upon hearing this, Aileen seemed to malfunction—the world she knew had collapsed. But that did not change her anger; she had lost the drive to live and no longer even knew whom to hate.
“So her aphasia is because of that…?”
“I can’t be certain, but it’s likely related.”
Eleora regarded Aileen with concern. Aileen just stared at the floor with empty eyes. Meanwhile the bishop spoke as if burdened. “So, Hamel, are you sure the inquisitors carried this out?”
“Yes. I only worry they used a somewhat bothersome method.”
Why would they use unethical, troublesome means to corner Chepeșh in Solmer without enlisting the order’s power from the start? It was a leap, but Hamel thought of the same people they’d met in the north: the raven demon that killed Lunacornus and bewitched Rupert, the assassins who attacked Marvas’s followers in the dungeon where the Root of All Wisdom was sealed, the mysterious man who told where David was hiding in Glance Valley. They were clearly working to check Marvas’s power. If this incident was part of that plan…
“Perhaps the inquisitors themselves worship heresy.”
The mood turned heavy at that remark. The impact of the casually spoken words was enormous: the Inquisition Office was a massive pillar within the order, and the archbishop, its head, wielded power that pierced the heavens. Hamel’s words could make that vast organization an enemy.
Bishop Arcen spoke carefully. “You must choose your words carefully.”
“……”
“But if it’s true… we can’t just stand idly by.”
The bishop stood. “Leave this matter to me for now. I will contact you soon.”
“Yes.”
Hamel answered calmly. For the time being he had no plans to act; he only intended to return to the domain.
Just as their conversation was wrapping up.
“Hmm? There are paintings in a place like this.”
─Flinch
Hamel flinched at the bishop’s remark. It was because of paintings stacked in a corner of the Reception room. ‘…Of all places, this room.’ As soon as he saw the bishop, Hamel had hidden the demon-possessed paintings and the guard captain taken from the castle. To be precise, he had asked Ono to hide them—and of all places, they had been stashed here.
As gazes turned that way, Eleora’s expression shifted subtly; more precisely, she began to sniff, as if sensing something off. The bishop even lifted a painting to inspect it.
‘……’
Now what? Should he tell the whole truth? After all, hadn’t Eleora shown mercy even to Apophis? Hamel’s dilemma deepened.
The bishop spoke with a grave expression. “Hamel, this is…”
“……”
Was he caught? If so, it would be better to speak first. Just as Hamel opened his mouth—
“Isn’t that the portrait of His Majesty the Emperor’s ancestor, Leopold von Tirian III? And this seal… it’s the royal seal.”
“…?”
“To see such a treasure. Was this an item from the Solmer domain?”
“No. I obtained it by chance elsewhere.”
“Ah, a precious item. You should handle it with care.”
Bishop Arcen, inexplicably, didn’t notice anything amiss. Moreover…
“Achoo. There’s a bit of dust here.”
Eleora merely sneezed lightly; she didn’t seem to detect any lingering demonic energy.
‘Why?’
Just as Hamel tilted his head in puzzlement, the ring on his finger gave a small vibration. A ring engraved with stag antlers—Lunacornus’s ring.
‘Could this be…?’
Hamel looked down at the ring.
“Is this really that valuable?”
Eleora, looking uninterested, reached toward the painting. “It’s not about price. It’s a treasure that can’t be bought with money. If it’s genuine, it would qualify as a national treasure of the empire.”
“…Yes?”
She halted her reaching hand and asked again. “Is that true?”
“With the royal seal impressed, it’s likely the original painted by a famed artist centuries ago. The other portraits Hamel has seen are all copies of this work.”
Hamel looked at the guard captain with renewed appreciation. If it weren’t for the demons haunting the paintings, they would be treasures worth untold sums.
‘If Ono heard, he’d probably suggest selling them secretly.’
Hamel mumbled, stared at the painting for a moment, then naturally guided them outside. “Then let’s go. Aileen, you should rest a bit too.”
─Nod
Aileen nodded listlessly and left the room first. Throughout the conversation she had shown no emotion. Watching her, Eleora asked with concern, “Will she be all right?”
Her heart must have been emptied. Her revenge had ended in futility, and learning that even her true enemy wasn’t real would hollow anyone out. She needed time.
Hamel knew Aileen had once overcome tragedy and stood up again. Though driven by vengeance, she had recovered faster and stronger than Hamel. So she would get better—much faster than Hamel himself.
“She’ll be fine.”
Hamel truly believed that without a doubt. After all, winter always passes and spring eventually comes.
