Sicaris, in the empire’s west.
Sicaris was the empire’s most unique region, where many ethnicities and other races intermingled.
Many features set it apart from other parts of the empire, but the most notable was religion.
Because so many different groups lived there, the gods they worshipped were varied: ancient deities, folk beliefs, superstitions.
In that place, where every religious hue blended together, the Order’s influence did not reach.
Thus Sicaris was also the only region in the empire without a branch of the Order.
Recently, strange rumors had come out of that Sicaris.
That a new religion had appeared.
“So what of it?”
Hamel replied as if it were nothing. The others in the party reacted the same. With so many small religions and sects, one more didn’t seem like a big problem.
Leo Benedictus nodded and continued.
“I thought so at first, too.”
From the Inquisition’s standpoint, they were all heresies anyway, so it wasn’t special. They had no particular reaction.
But this rumor was different. Reports said that, as time passed, the new heresy was gradually gaining power.
“Expansion… in the west.”
At those words Hamel’s expression shifted. The west was a place so strongly marked by religious color in every faction that even the Order had given up missionary work there. Tribes like the Blue Wolf, who worshipped old, native gods, would sooner die than be converted. For a rising sect to gain influence in such a west was not an ordinary matter.
Leo Benedictus continued calmly.
“Folk beliefs have been disappearing one by one. Our Inquisition deemed this dangerous and dispatched investigators.”
It was ironic that the Order had given up missionary work because the many religious forces opposed one another. But what if one religious force unified the west? That would be a different story. It could very well grow into a power that threatened the Order. So the Inquisition immediately sent inquisitors.
“No way…”
Hamel frowned.
Leo Benedictus nodded.
“Yes. Those investigators were the Purifiers themselves.”
Those who had gone on the first investigation returned to the Inquisition not long after. What they said was…
“They said it was nothing special. That it was simply an old, worn heresy exaggerated and blown out of proportion.”
Their leader, Leo Benedictus, had been in the north on other duties at the time. He had no choice but to accept their report at face value.
However.
The rumors did not subside after months. If anything, ominous reports arrived that the scale had grown. Voices warning of the danger of the new sect were nonstop.
“That one village sacrificed the people of another whole, or that countless tribes and domains had already converted to that religion.”
Leo Benedictus’s expression darkened.
“There were even rumors that the Ashitaka family—one of the three great powers and a guardian of the west—had lost control.”
Finding this strange, the Inquisition summoned the Purifiers who had been the first investigators and dispatched investigators to the west again.
But the results were completely unexpected.
The Purifiers ordered to return disobeyed the Inquisition and moved east on their own to continue their activities.
Moreover, no news came from the inquisitors who had been sent again. They were all missing.
“….”
“The archbishop wants answers.”
He wanted to know why the Purifiers ran rampant and what was happening in the west.
Leo Benedictus spoke with a stern expression.
“Therefore I must go to the west.”
“….”
Hamel did not ask anything. He felt he already knew what would follow.
“Would you accompany me on that journey?”
The reception room fell silent after Leo Benedictus finished speaking. Hamel pressed his lips together and deliberated.
‘Do I really have to go?’
There was no reason to. Of course, the circumstances were suspicious. Leo Benedictus, leader of the Purifiers, and the events in the west—none of it could be taken lightly, and it was worth investigating.
But.
‘Is it necessary for me to confirm it personally?’
Hamel shook his head. This could very well be a trap. Leo Benedictus belonged to the Inquisition. Not only could he not fully trust what Leo said, but even if it were true, it could still be a trap. In any case, the Inquisition seemed to be targeting Hamel.
‘Bishop Arcen’s prediction was right.’
The timing was too precise. It couldn’t be mere coincidence. He had never imagined the Inquisition would take an interest in him. It seemed that his unlikely thought had come true. Otherwise Leo Benedictus would have no reason to seek him out.
‘They’re not trying to recruit me… I don’t think, but maybe it’s a trap.’
After thinking, Hamel spoke.
“I…”
Just as he was about to refuse.
“Ah, by the way. The name of the god worshipped by the order that is swallowing the west.” Leo Benedictus suddenly blurted it out. “People call it this.”
“…?”
“Azidahaka.”
“…!”
Hamel paused, then slowly repeated the name as if hearing it for the first time.
“Azidahaka, you say?”
“Yes. That’s right. Have you heard of it before?”
“I think so.”
Hamel nodded calmly. Was he testing to see if Hamel knew something? Leo Benedictus smiled.
“You would. It was once an evil god worshipped in the southern desert regions.”
“….”
Hamel fell silent for a moment, then nodded and replied.
“Very well. Let’s go together.”
“Are you sure?”
Whether it was a trap or not, there was a need to act personally.
Leo Benedictus’s face visibly brightened at Hamel’s answer. He smiled broadly and bowed.
“Thank you. You truly are as the rumors said.”
“Not at all. Well then.”
Hamel gave a brief modest reply and rose. It was a kind of guest blessing or ceremonial courtesy. He wanted to get that suspicious man out of the mansion as soon as possible.
“Then. When you’re ready, let me know. I will be waiting in the village.”
“It won’t take long.”
Reading Hamel’s mood, Leo Benedictus rose naturally. He bowed to Hamel and turned to leave.
“Um.”
“…Yes?”
Suddenly, Antonio, who had been quietly listening, spoke up. He tilted his head and asked Leo Benedictus.
“Have we possibly met somewhere before?”
Leo froze at the question, then shook his head.
“No. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Ah, is that so? I must have been mistaken.”
Antonio hurriedly apologized, and Leo Benedictus said it was fine and left the mansion.
Watching him go, Hamel asked Antonio.
“Antonio, did you figure it out?”
“No. It’s just… the voice seemed like one I’ve heard before.”
“When would that have been?”
“Well…”
Antonio scratched his head, trying to summon a hazy memory.
‘Now that I think about it, that voice does sound familiar to me too…’
Through the window, Leo Benedictus was leaving the mansion. Hamel looked at his brown hair and recalled one memory.
‘There is nothing you seek here. Leave this to your comrades and you should go north.’
The mysterious man he had met in Snowglume.
‘Could it be?’
Hamel urgently called for Daniel.
“Sir Daniel.”
“Hm?”
“Do you by any chance find that inquisitor just now familiar?”
“That fellow just now?”
Daniel fell silent for a moment as if pondering, then shook his head calmly.
“No. I don’t really know.”
“Ah…”
Hamel let out a deflated sigh. Daniel tilted his head, then, as if noticing something, spoke.
“A brown-haired priest. Could it be because of what I told you?”
“….”
“It’s not him. I couldn’t forget that face. Besides, he was much older.”
Now that he thought about it, that was true. No matter how you estimated, Leo Benedictus was unlikely to be older than his mid-thirties; by appearance he might seem even younger. But the priest who killed Daniel’s parents had seemed nearly middle-aged when Daniel saw him as a child.
‘Was I mistaken?’
Once, Aileen Rengbaster had asked Hamel a question.
‘By any chance… has anyone with brown hair wearing a hood visited since that day?’
Upon hearing that question, Hamel formed a vague guess: the person who murdered Daniel’s and Aileen’s families might be the same individual, and the brown-haired man he met in Snowglume might have been that person. He hadn’t considered it seriously, but upon encountering a brown-haired priest now, he wondered if it might be so.
‘Perhaps the man I met in Snowglume was that person… but there’s too little evidence.’
Thinking it over again, he wasn’t even sure the voices were that similar. Their meeting in the north had been too brief, and the voice was not particularly distinctive.
‘I might have been mistaken from fatigue.’
Hamel, deflated, shook his head. Only Antonio appeared troubled, frowning under his eyepatch.
“Sir, what on earth are you?”
“Apophis, sir.”
Hamel looked at Apophis, who had approached him. After Leo Benedictus left for the village, Hamel quietly summoned the captain of the guard and Apophis into the mansion.
In Apophis’s hand, dangling as he entered, was a thoroughly terrified rabbit.
Azidahaka sealed within a rabbit’s body. It was the very being of the name Leo Benedictus had mentioned earlier.
“Squeak…”
Apophis, utterly incredulous, asked Hamel.
“Why is something like this running around the mansion garden?”
“Somehow it ended up that way.”
“Somehow…?”
Apophis asked with a creak of disbelief, then launched into a tirade.
“This is Azidahaka! A name of immortality, of undying existence!”
Indeed. Azidahaka was also a demon bearing a name of immortality. It was one of the demons from whom Apophis had had its name stolen.
“Do you know how long I’ve been searching for this one?”
“I don’t know.”
Hamel answered calmly, and Apophis stiffened. Then, with a deflated look, he shook his head.
“…Enough. More to the point, what exactly is this thing?”
“If I had to put a label on it, perhaps a guard hound of sorts. Though it’s not a dog.”
“…A guard hound?”
Apophis wore a look that couldn’t tell whether Hamel was serious or joking. Now it was merely a temperamental rabbit, but there was no denying it had once been revered as an evil god.
“But now I don’t really know either.”
Hamel shifted his gaze with curiosity. The god Azidahaka, said to be rapidly expanding its following in the west, and the helpless Azidahaka dangling from Apophis’s hand—were the two the same being? Or were they different entities? If different, which one was the true Azidahaka? He was lost in that very pondering.
“Huh?”
Hamel snapped his head up. Something had suddenly occurred to him.
“Apophis.”
“Yes?”
“That creature—are you sure it’s Azidahaka?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Then… can’t you reclaim that name?”
“Squeak?!”
The Azidahaka dangling from his hand turned pale and began to thrash in panic.
To reclaim the name would mean…
“You’re asking if you can kill it and take its power?”
“Yes.”
Hamel nodded in answer to Apophis’s question. So far there had been no way to prevent resurrection, hence it had been sealed, but if they could strip away the power of resurrection—
Hamel waited for Apophis’s answer.
Apophis replied without hesitation.
“It’s possible.”
“…!”
Hamel’s eyes widened. Meanwhile, the Azidahaka in his grip froze where it had been thrashing, terrified.
“Then…”
Hamel hesitated. Rationally, reclaiming the name immediately was the right choice. It would permanently cut off Azidahaka’s resurrection, and if the religion expanding in the west suffered no blow when Apophis reclaimed the name, they would know it was an entirely different faith.
But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to say it easily. Had he somehow grown attached already?
Apophis, amused by Hamel’s hesitation, said,
“You’re hesitating? It’s a demon, you know?”
“….”
“You really have changed.”
Apophis watched Hamel for a moment, then casually added,
“There is another way.”
“…Another way?”
“Yes. I mean a way to reclaim the name without killing this one.”
“…!”
Hamel asked, surprised.
“What is it?”
Apophis smiled faintly and met Azidahaka’s eyes.
“To make it my apostle.”
