Chapter 108: Land of the Pilgrim (1)
For Albus, the secretary who had long claid to serve under Torquemada, that day felt especially strange.
“…Are you all right? You look awfully pale, Master.”
“I told you already, I’m fine. Don’t make repeat myself.”
“……Yes. I apologize.”
Bowing his head slightly, Albus silently followed behind Torquemada.
Yet, the strange sense of unease refused to leave him, and hesitation lingered in each of his steps.
‘Did sothing happen after he entered his quarters?’
Perhaps Dellowell had reprimanded him again for taking too long to return?
…No, that wouldn’t make him act in such haste.
Even when the Archbishop himself ca to offer counsel, he would only half-listen.
‘…Should I have attended him inside?’
Co to think of it, the quarrel itself had been strange from the start.
Though Naivea was one of the most diverse cities within Flock, incidents like yesterday’s were hardly common.
After all, most people here were workers—not thugs like those n.
‘And for them not to recognize the Master’s face, that too…’
Though not as publicly known as figures of the Imperial Court or the Bernhardt Family, he was still a highly respected Apostle of the Orthodox Faith.
Anyone who had even glanced at a newspaper or a book should have known who Torquemada of Velut was.
What struck him most as odd, however, was the reaction of those n after they picked the fight.
They’d been snarling like they were about to kill soone, only to later apologize, saying they were sorry.
Even though they were the ones who had taken the worst beating.
‘…I hope I’m just overthinking this.’
But there was reason enough for his nerves to be frayed.
Lately, Albus had been under considerable stress over his Master’s increasingly dual-natured behavior.
Still, if they could just finish this summoning order safely, perhaps he could finally take a breath.
Unlike the secretary, who was trying to steady his tangled thoughts—
Pierna Torquemada was sinking deeper into confusion.
‘How did they find out…?!’
He had to fight the urge to curse aloud.
He never imagined that the black magicians would already know the location of the Reincarnation Stone.
Because it was so rare and carried great potential for misuse, they had chosen to store it in Marthus Land instead of leaving it unattended.
When had the information leaked?
Had any related docunts been exposed?
Or had soone kidnapped one of them and rifled through their mories?
No. If that had happened, the attendants would have noticed imdiately.
Those who always stayed by their side would never fail to sense such an anomaly.
‘Wait. That would an…’
The information hadn’t leaked—had it?
If there had been a group colluding with them from the start…
Then it would make perfect sense for the black magicians to know about it.
‘Who would dare conspire with those lunatics…’
Only five people in Dellowell knew the exact location of the Stone.
Archbishop Dominico Nimbus of the Ribenian Orthodox Faith.
Heinrich Peregrine, the Director of the Dellowell Inquisition.
And the three Apostolos: Torquemada, Bober, and Beckett.
No matter which of the four—excluding himself—was the traitor, ti was of the essence.
The culprit was surely already moving to smuggle the Stone out.
“…If I don’t hurry…”
As the towering gates of Dellowell ca into view, Torquemada swallowed a heavy breath.
Within Torquemada’s shadow.
Even through my translucent vision, it wasn’t hard to grasp how things were unfolding.
‘As expected, Apostolos receive a whole different level of inspection.’
Even for fad nobles like the Bernhardts or mbers of the Imperial Court, the examination usually took at least half a day—but this one was done in thirty minutes.
Silently impressed, I observed the scenery of Dellowell through his eyes.
Buildings stood tightly packed on both sides of the four-lane road.
Half the people walking on the sidewalks wore everyday clothes, the other half their work uniforms.
Dellowell was one of the most rigidly role-assigned cities in the Empire, so attire that displayed one’s duty was considered essential.
It didn’t have the bustling noise of a tropolis like Arpe, nor the free atmosphere of Naivea, yet the density of the crowd made it feel busy all the sa.
And amidst all that commotion, there was an odd sense of order.
—Whether it was truly order, or oppression, was another matter.
Clina appeared at just the right mont, as if my prolonged silence had bothered her.
—Either way, it remains an unyielding wall.
‘An unyielding wall, huh…’
—You plan to tear it down soday, don’t you? That wall.
‘…Who knows.’
It’s not as if they intend to leave us alone; we simply prepare ourselves in response.
But yes, in the end, that wall must fall.
Right now, Dellowell points its blades even at its fellow citizens of the Empire, all under the pretense of “blasphemy.”
They are wasting their exceptional combat forces in the most aningless ways.
Even aside from that, Dellowell’s collapse would likely mark the final stage of the Empire’s reform.
If Edel overthrew Abel and Rachel to establish the new system—
Then both the Ribenian Orthodox Faith and the Bernhardt Family, who had long monopolized power, would already have fallen.
The carriage continued for quite so ti before stopping before an enormous fortress at the city’s center.
Minerals embedded throughout the stone glistened under the light, emitting a nearly golden radiance.
Looking upon the vast stronghold, I murmured inwardly.
‘So this is the Velut Fortress.’
Dellowell had suffered over a hundred assaults throughout history.
Among them were dostic uprisings, as well as invasions by foreign armies.
There were even tis when parts of the city were occupied.
Yet despite countless attacks, this place had never fallen—not once.
Two layers of magic-based barriers protected the entire wall, and even if soone managed to breach them, five thousand elite soldiers, ready to die, stood waiting inside.
And leading them were the Executors—the Empire’s strongest individual combat forces. Who would dare dream of invading such a place?
—…And yet, the invader strolls in calmly, spouting such words.
‘I’m only here to retrieve what I left behind.’
—You’ve grown far more brazen than when you first made your pact with .
‘I’ve certainly thickened my skin.’
—Even if you’re within the shadow, where discovery is unlikely… still, be careful, my dear.’
‘I know.’
The mont I entered inside these walls, there would be no way to escape.
If it were outside, he could have found a way to escape the city—whether by blackmailing soone over their weakness, threatening their life, or buying them off with money.
But inside the Velut Fortress, such a thing was impossible.
The people here were all fanatics, utterly beyond persuasion.
As for entering the fortress, Apostolos like him were practically granted a free pass.
About two minutes later, the six guards blocking the gate hastily broke formation and stepped back.
Clank, clank!
At the sa mont, the thick iron chains securing the great gate snapped taut with a burst of mana and began to pull. Slowly, the doors opened.
Screeeech—
Watching Torquemada and his secretary hurry forward, I wore a faint smile filled with anticipation.
‘Now then, I’ll be counting on you, Torquemada of Velut.’
It was just past 8 a.m. when everyone except the Executor of Light had gathered at Flavia Cathedral.
“Ah, everyone’s here already. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
The last to arrive—Torquemada of Velut—greeted his colleagues with a lighthearted tone and offered handshakes all around.
Just as the Director of the Inquisition was about to intervene, a dry chuckle escaped from the front.
“You’ve truly lost your mind, Pierna.”
It was Archbishop Dominico.
At the venom lacing his words, both Bober and Beckett straightened their backs at once, heels pressed together.
“This is an ergency summons, yet you stroll in as if on vacation? If you had even a shred of remorse, you’d show it in your attitude.”
In a situation like this—where the Archbishop spoke so harshly—even an Apostolos would normally take a step back.
But for many reasons, Torquemada had no intention of doing so.
“And what exactly should I be sorry for? I’ve rely been carrying out pastoral visits for the believers preparing for Descent Day.”
“While completely ignoring the Archbishop’s ergency summons?”
“If I’d intended to ignore it, I wouldn’t have co here at all.”
“…You never know when to keep that mouth shut.”
“Look at yourself. If it was such an urgent matter, you should’ve brought up the topic the mont I walked in. Why so much talking around it?”
“…….”
“You’re just irritated with , that’s all. You think I’ve been acting too uncooperative, and now you want to use this chance to put in my place.”
Saying that, Torquemada took a step closer toward the Archbishop.
“But sorry to disappoint you. As long as you plan to keep using us as your hunting dogs, I’ll keep growling.”
The unexpected counterpunch left Dominico speechless.
“So let’s get to the point, shall we? We’re both short on ti.”
Director Heinrich couldn’t hide his awe—or his alarm—as he watched.
The timing of his conversion, his appointnt as an Apostle, and above all, the influence he held over the Orthodox Faith—
Considering all that, Torquemada was practically the third most powerful figure in the Ribenian Orthodox Faith.
With soone of his stature speaking so boldly, even the Executors had no response.
The Archbishop himself was rendered speechless for a different reason.
Caught between shock and dismay, not even anger found a place to surface.
Still, a summons was a summons, and the ssage had to be delivered.
So Dominico suppressed his irritation and got straight to the point.
“Starting this Friday, we’ll launch an offensive on Duel—Mallet.”
Within the Ribenian Orthodox Faith, the Archbishop’s word was absolute.
Perhaps in the Dellowell of old there might have been resistance, but now—there was no reason to refuse his command.
“The reason has already been explained. Until they surrender unconditionally, the offensive will not stop.”
“…….”
“The Imperial Army will not intervene, so wipe them out cleanly with Dellowell’s two thousand elite troops.”
“…….”
“Discuss the operation’s details among yourselves for now. Any questions?”
The Archbishop’s gaze turned toward Torquemada.
“You said earlier you’d keep growling. Why so quiet now?”
“Well… if you insist, I’ll ask just one thing.”
Torquemada folded his arms as he continued.
“You’re not concerned about Duel Headquarters’ support? I heard Duel recently sent several hundred thousand Riben in aid to Carvena. Isn’t that a clear sign of their intent to intervene?”
“That’s precisely why we must end this now. Once Mallet is erased, Duel will lose any justification to ddle in the Empire.”
“But surely Duel knows that as well. Two thousand n might not be enough.”
“The area near the Magic Tower is under extraterritorial rights, but any support troops from Duel would have to pass through the Empire’s borders.”
“…So you’ve already spoken with the Imperial Court. In other words, you’re planning a swift, decisive battle before their reinforcents can arrive, correct?”
The Archbishop nodded in silence.
Torquemada then raised another possibility.
“There’s also the chance that Carvena might join in.”
But Dominico imdiately countered, as though he had anticipated the question.
“Michel Bernhardt isn’t stupid enough to send children who haven’t even co of age into battle.”
“A small unit of reinforcents wouldn’t pose any real threat anyway—it’d only give us more justification. They won’t intervene.”
When even the Director of the Inquisition chid in to support him, the argunt was practically settled.
Letting out a sigh, Torquemada glanced at his colleagues on either side.
“…So we’re supposed to go around reassuring the people, telling them it’s nothing to worry about?”
“You really do catch on fast, don’t you? Annoyingly so.”
To call an ergency assembly over sothing like this—tsk.
Grumbling under his breath, Torquemada glanced around the room, then dipped his head slightly.
“No one has anything else to say, right?”
“…….”
“Then, I’ll be on my way. I have urgent business to attend to.”
No one stopped him.
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