Chapter 555 - Forgive Me Not My Sins

In a polytheistic land, where belief in and worship of many gods was accepted, being a heretic meant being forsaken by every god. In short, in a society built around faith, you were not even treated as a human fucking being.

Thus, anyone branded a heretic had nowhere to live. With most people living in cities, where could someone bearing that mark possibly go? They had to become bandits or flee elsewhere—to places like the oasis villages of the West or the eastern frontier. Of course, such a journey was anything but easy. They would be risking their lives.

One scholar who faced this reality had pointed to the witch hunts and heretic purges that once spread like wildfire as the reason bandit gangs had formed. But he, too, had been branded a heretic and burned to death. Even if one knew the truth, it was best to look away.

Strictly speaking, a heretic was someone who believed in ideas opposed to the faiths that formed the continent's backbone and worshipped idols. Cultists, shunned by every god and declared enemies on religious grounds, were therefore heretics in the truest sense.

Beyond them, the label of heretic could be twisted to fit whatever suited the accuser. Everyone in this land knew that, unless they were fanatically devout or extraordinarily naive.

Heretics outside the evil cult should have been rare. But when had the world ever operated with perfect justice and honesty? The term "witch hunt" had not come about for nothing.

How many people on the continent had the courage to kill those who were witches in the true sense? Mages were several times more dangerous on their own ground. Kill such a witch in her sanctuary? Even if some bastard had the nerve, he would get himself killed trying. None of the brave ones would be left.

And why kill a witch who was minding her own business? She would spend her whole life in her sanctuary studying magic.

Of course, not all witches were like that. Among the Cultists were witches who still took children's hearts, yet the religious orders did not punish them. Any excuse would do.

Seeing the truth behind what the religious orders called witch hunts would turn one's stomach. Such things were no longer so common, of course. But neither had they vanished altogether.

The world was unjust, and its injustice always fell hardest on the weak. All that injustice was what had made Audin a heretic.

'Father, hast thou forsaken me?'

Audin had asked himself that countless times. He had even tried to abandon his faith. Yet his god had never once taken away the proof of his love. The blessing bestowed by the God of War—divine power—remained firmly rooted within him.

It had been there when he was expelled from the order, and it was there still. If he truly were a heretic forsaken by his god, surely his divine power should have been the first thing to disappear. But it had not. His divine power remained unchanged.

And because even the order had no means of erasing divine power that already existed, it had been forced to settle for bindings. That was all there was behind Audin's designation as a heretic.

["You are a heretic."]

That was the order's verdict.

Why? Because of a truth he had once dimly understood and turned away from, and now understood clearly but still did not wish to face.

Quite apart from the teachings of the gods, the brand of heresy could be imposed to serve an order's interests and political standing. He himself was one symbol of that: a man born with talent who had failed to fulfill his duties as an Inquisitor and ultimately stood against the order.

As he spoke to Encrid, Audin lowered his gaze to his hand on the reins. He saw a vision of blood dripping from it onto the ground. It was a hand stained by past wrongs and failings, a hand that had seized, imprisoned, and beaten innocent people.

'Forgive me not my sins.'

Silently, he recited the opening line of his daily dawn prayer. It had not changed once since he abandoned his position as an Inquisitor.

At Audin's words, Encrid raised his slightly bowed head. He had ridden the entire way absorbed in some thought, scarcely speaking. His gaze, which had seemed fixed on the distant air, brightened, and he turned that newly alert gaze to his side. Their eyes met. Rem also looked at Audin from beside them.

His eyes seemed to ask what the hell that bear bastard was talking about.

Encrid sat upright with the reins in hand, but his shoulders were loose, making his posture look relaxed. Maintaining such a seat on horseback took considerable riding skill.

The horses moved at an easy trot. The autumn breeze was pleasantly cool, the sunlight a little sharp. Yellowed grass covered the ground, crushed beneath their hooves.

What was this place called again? Letting that stray thought drift aside, Encrid spoke.

"Do you want me to curse you out? I can do that."

On the surface, it was a remarkably callous reply. Someone had just revealed what amounted to a lifelong secret, and that was his response.

"Curse him out? Let me handle that. Well, you big bear, what sort of abuse would you like?"

Rem eagerly seized his chance to join in. Perhaps Audin should have been grateful he had not brought up the youngest.

For a moment, Audin could not speak. Even as he made his confession, he had anticipated Encrid's reaction. They had spent enough time together.

I know. Fine. So? What do you want me to do about it?

He had expected something along those lines: a response that said he knew the rumors and did not care. But the words that came back were slightly different.

Curse him out? He would curse him out? Why would he say that?

"Wasn't that why you said it? Because you wanted to be cursed at?"

Only when Encrid spoke again did Audin realize one small truth. A brief exchange had brought a realization like a flash of lightning.

'Did I want to be cursed at?'

The Captain would already have guessed roughly why the rumors had spread, and even why Audin remained in Border Guard. Why, then, had he confessed to being a heretic? Had he wanted someone to condemn his sins and punish him?

His god had not punished him. That meant he had yet to receive punishment. With his pure, uncompromising faith, Audin truly believed that. He had received no punishment at all.

"Hurting yourself isn't a good hobby," Encrid continued, seemingly indifferent.

"What's this about hurting himself? Let's just curse the hell out of him. He says he wants it. You damn bear, may you get stung in the eyes eating honey stashed in a tree."

Rem had recently been practicing inventive insults, but this attempt was abysmal.

"I don't think that works."

"Tch. Me neither."

Audin did not react. He had not even heard the barbarian's nonsense. The Captain was right. He was hurting himself.

The scriptures said not to mistreat the body bestowed by the Lord Father. But did that teaching concern only the flesh? What of the mind? The soul? The heart?

Audin had never neglected to train his body, but he had not cared for his heart in the same way. He was always scourging himself. Was that deliberate asceticism? An act meant to foster spiritual growth?

No. Repeating his past sins to himself, he had torn, crushed, ground down, and lashed his heart and soul countless times. He had done it without questioning why.

If asked why, he would have answered that he had to. His past sins could not be absolved, but he had to tell the Lord Father of his wrongdoing. It was a silent cry demanding punishment. Yes. That was what it had been.

"Ah."

Audin opened his mouth in wonder. His deep voice carried through the air around them.

The Lord Father had granted him another lesson. Hurting himself went against the teachings of the scriptures. Was that not itself a step down the wrong path? Therefore, he must stop.

'Never in my life shall I release my divine power.'

Not for his own sake, at least. Even if death came, he would hold to that. It could not even be called atonement. Audin did not dare hope for forgiveness.

Divine power surged within his bound body. It sought to radiate the light of his revelation, but he calmed his heart and pressed it down. If he removed the bindings, all the divine power accumulated through revelations like this one would come rushing out in an explosion. But that would not happen.

He renewed his vow.

'This power is not for my sake.'

As their horses' hooves beat the ground, an eagle flew overhead.

KEEEEE!

Encrid thought it sounded much like a whistle dagger. Hearing the same cry, Rem spoke.

"If that counts as a confession, I'm a Westerner."

"Right. And I'm from this continent," Encrid added.

Audin smiled as he always did. They knew he had been branded a heretic and expelled, and they knew perfectly well he was no real heretic. It was a rough kindness, telling him to stop talking nonsense.

That even his lawless barbarian brother would say such a thing showed just how much time he had spent with them.

SKREEEEE!

The eagle's cry was followed by the cry of a demonic beast. They resonated differently. One was clear and awe-inspiring, while the other was closer to an unstable, unpleasant discord.

In the distance, several harpies could be seen beating their wings. They were not far, but neither could they be called close.

Demonic beasts had little room to run rampant near the capital or Border Guard, but in areas where the safe roads had yet to take proper hold, monsters and demonic beasts appeared more often than before. Driven out and crowded into one place, they sometimes formed colonies. The displaced creatures banded together into groups.

There were only a few harpies, but leaving them alone might lead to trouble. And since a little effort would be enough to deal with them, there was no reason to turn a blind eye.

"I'll go," Rem said, and Encrid nodded.

They would have posed a considerable threat to ordinary travelers or a trading company, but not to Rem. The western barbarian kicked his horse's flanks and rode off. Hooves pounded the ground, raising clouds of dust.

There had been no rain for several days. In the dry weather, the dust rose thick enough to obscure their view. After watching the drifting particles for a moment, Audin spoke.

"I was an Inquisitor."

If identifying himself as the subject of the rumors had been an act of self-harm, this was a true confession.

"All right."

Encrid's response was the same as before. Audin told him of his past. It was not a long story. He reduced his life to a few simple, clear lines.

An orphan. A priest he had regarded as his father. The doubts that arose while judging heretics. A life that had led him to turn his back on the order. It was a plain account, leaving out why he had come to Border Guard and the revelations he had experienced along the way.

Encrid thought Audin had no talent as a storyteller.

"Yeah."

There was no expression of sympathy or anything of the sort. He simply accepted it. It was not his place to pass judgment.

What good would picking over the past do? Should he tell Audin to live properly from now on? Never to make the same mistakes again? Who was he to say such things?

As an Inquisitor, Audin had delivered several people to the order's prisons. While revealing that fact, he wondered: had they truly been guilty?

Now, he believed they had not. Then what had he arrested them for?

As he spoke, he felt his thoughts begin to settle. It was a strange thing. Rather than offer sympathy, Encrid listened properly. He gave Audin his full, attentive hearing, missing nothing. Speaking to him as he listened made Audin feel a little better.

"I don't think it's your fault the order is rotten."

Encrid was stating a fact, neither sympathizing nor offering comfort, but Audin could not say he agreed. Whether the order was corrupt or not, his own sins did not disappear.

In that, he was much like Encrid in his approach to life. Everyone had said it was impossible, but Encrid had vowed to become a knight and simply lived accordingly. Audin, too, was only following what his heart told him.

Everyone saw things differently and valued different things in life. Encrid had no intention of correcting or faulting Audin's beliefs. If he forced his own way on someone else because he thought it right, would it be right for that person too?

There was no knowing. So it was not something to impose. Did they not all live by their own determination?

Of course, Audin was no spineless man who would be swayed by a few words from someone else. A man like that could never have attained such skill in the first place.

Conviction. Determination. Resolve. Without those, it would have been difficult to surmount walls or advance.

As they talked, Encrid unexpectedly resolved one aspect of the swordsmanship problem that had occupied him.

'Fortitude.'

Be firm. Be steadfast. Had glimpsing a fragment of talent made him a little impatient? Had the ferryman's help perhaps made him drunk on his own skill?

He had encountered many obstacles in the sword art he had recently named Wavebreak Sword, which added rebound force to his strikes. Having learned many different sword arts, he had instinctively searched among them for a way around those obstacles.

He seemed to recall resolving to figure it out before they reached Border Guard. But this was not the way. He realized that the faster path was not necessarily the right one.

'The method itself isn't wrong.'

It simply was not right for him, at least as he was now. A detour might well be appropriate for someone else.

Each life followed its own course. Wavebreak Sword, too, could simply follow its own way. Reflecting on technique was something he always did.

They traveled home beneath the autumn sun. Not a single drop of rain fell this time, so there was no need to find a cave in which to rest.

They stopped in Zaltenburg along the way, where Encrid had a light spar with a mercenary in a tavern who wanted to test his skill. Then someone recognized him, and the mayor and nobles began visiting at all hours, day and night.

"You won't cut my head off, will you?"

Some were frightened of Rem. Despite all his efforts at the banquet, the rumors remained unchanged: a lunatic whose parents had been killed by nobles when he was young, and who split the head of every noble he saw with an axe.

"Fuck, why would nobles have killed my parents? I'm a Westerner. We don't even have nobility in the West."

Rem felt wronged, but he did not beat up the noble before him for it.

There were no bandits. But whenever they saw monsters or demonic beasts gathering, they could not simply pass by. They always stopped to get a little exercise.

"I shall send you to the Lord!"

Audin stepped forward to fight several times, and Encrid picked up elements of his unarmed combat as he watched. It was good training, with real combat at hand and an excellent teacher beside him.

Rem occasionally scolded him, but that was nothing new.

"You're a knight now. Shouldn't you get it the first time I tell you? This is frustrating."

In a duel, it would have been hard to say which of them would win, but Rem still had to speak his mind. Nor was he wrong.

After those encounters along the way, they returned to Border Guard, and Encrid resumed his usual routine. Days of training and sparring. As Krang had said, it was time to eat well, live well, and build their strength.

Encrid also officially announced the knight order's founding to Border Guard.

"The Lunatic Knight Order? Why that name?"

Krais shook his head, but it was already official.

News of the founding spread across the continent faster and farther than any of them expected. A new knight order? No one could remember the last time they had heard of such a thing.

Along with it spread rumors about the fighters who formed the core of Border Guard's strength. Rumors bolstered by Rem and Audin's efforts.