211. Interlude: Two Villains
How do Inquisition Officers distinguish heretics? Why is the Inquisition Office the only one operated by the Vaitas Church among the sects of the Temple of the Gods? Once, Fernandez had such thoughts.
Those thoughts take him back to his days as Faijashi. Once, he had captured a Heretic who tried to assassinate him and asked:
“On what basis do you prove heresy and innocence?”
“You are a heretic!!”
“Ah, of course, I am a heretic. But do you believe that among those you burned, there were no innocent ones? Is it arrogance or fanaticism?”
Dissatisfied with the answer and having no reason to spare him, Faijashi took the Heretic’s life. The Heretic had answered with ‘investigation’ and ‘information.’
Faijashi, who had spent his life being chased by Inquisition Officers and aspiring heroes, had many opportunities. Those who could provide better answers always, truly always, came to him on their own.
So, once, he captured Enmagika, who tried to heal his magic, and asked:
“By what criteria do you distinguish demon worshippers from bandits? Don’t they both take lives and steal?”
“The minions of Hell cannot be free under the Lord’s gaze!”
“Don’t you use magic too? If you don’t draw on Hellish Magic, wouldn’t the magic of demon followers and yours look the same?”
Instead of answering, Enmagika bit his tongue. Unable to stop it in time, Faijashi clicked his tongue and used the corpse as an experimental tool.
The priest’s body was that of an ordinary mage. The magic circuits, composition, and resistance to Hellish Magic were nothing special.
And once, there was a time when Faijashi struggled in the terror of death.
“Vai- tasus’s- spirit!!”
“Please, just die already!”
“Spirit!!”
Diemonica. The heavenly demons created by Vaitas. Their divine bodies had strong resistance to almost all magic, and even demons couldn’t escape their grasp when trying to break them physically.
They charged in like wild boars, smashing through the traps he had carefully laid, one by one.
Noisy, stupid, and straightforward. But no demons could resist them in a straight line.
After a horrific battle he never wanted to recall, Faijashi barely managed to neutralize Diemonica. Though the once-renowned Ashen Dawn Society was completely destroyed, and he had to wander again after losing their infrastructure, he at least survived.
At that time, Faijashi struggled to speak to the neutralized Diemonica.
“What is the difference between demons and humans?”
“Shut up!”
“Tell me. How are we, whom you call heretics, different from you?”
“Demon worshippers smell!”
That was the only information Faijashi could gather. ‘Demon worshippers smell.’ He could never understand that statement in his lifetime.
But now, Fernandez could understand it. With Diemonica’s ‘sense of smell,’ he could.
It’s not the smell. To be precise, it’s instinct. Just as long-term magic training gives one an instinct for handling magic, and long-term swordsmanship gives a swordsman an instinct for reading the optimal strike.
When a Vaitas priest hunts demons for a long time, they develop an instinct. A fighting instinct and instinctive disgust that other priests don’t have.
It’s like the instinct of someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Fernandez classified this as a unique trait of Vaitas’s divinity.
Fortunately, he had developed such an instinct, which meant there were enough subjects for experimentation. Subjects to study how to use Dark Magic without being detected by the Inquisition Office.
When it came to experimenting on himself, Fernandez was practically an expert.
* * *
-Crackle.
Sitting in front of the campfire, Fernandez crossed his legs. The Dragonspine Mountains are deep and vast, and even Inquisition Officers can’t monitor every corner of the range.
Also, what kind of foolish demon worshipper would use Dark Magic and perform rituals right under the nose of the Inquisition Office?
-Either a fool or bold.
‘Exactly.’
It was effective in terms of surprise. Everywhere within a day’s travel from the Inquisition Office via the main roads was densely monitored by Heretics and Torchmen. So, if he had to work within a few days, this was the most reasonable choice.
Except for the minor issue of being sent straight to the stake if caught.
-Crackle.
He poured reagents into the campfire. The flames roared, and green fire erupted. Fernandez slowly reached his hand into the flickering fire.
It wasn’t hot. The massive magical formation around him and the precisely prepared reagents created flames that couldn’t harm his hand.
In the magical flames, Fernandez’s fingers curled one by one. The flames licked his fingers and the back of his hand, sending a tingling sensation up his arm.
-Crackle.
A black halo ignited behind Fernandez. The sound of a latch clicking echoed through the flames. The spell was complete.
[Speak.]
A hissing voice came from the flames. Soon, the flames flared up, and a familiar Beastman sat within, looking at him.
“Long time no see, Partak.”
[I thought you had forgotten me, my Lord.]
“Your usefulness hasn’t run out yet. How could I?”
Fernandez laughed as he watched the flames. Partak chuckled with a raspy voice.
[Yet, you never replied to my reports.]
“I’ve been busy.”
[I’ve heard rumors of strange movements in the east lately. Was that your doing, my Lord?]
“Yes. That’s why I need you. Any word from the Elders?”
[The usual. Eating, drinking, and…]
Better than beasts, but still a bit short of living like fools.
Partak looked outside the tent with disgust. The Council of Elders of the Federation of Nobles had lost its influence since Kirhas solidified her rule, and Partak, who had relied on the council’s support, was now reduced to a mere shadow advisor.
It wasn’t a welcome change. Especially now that the acting chieftain was a woman who supposedly had prophetic abilities and enjoyed broad support from both the Beastman Nobility and the warriors.
So, when this mysterious lord suddenly reached out, Partak clicked his tongue and tapped the table.
[Surely, you’re not just curious about the situation of those beasts. Please, command what you desire.]
“Quick with words, I like that.”
Fernandez smiled as he gazed at the flames. To Partak, watching from behind the tent through the flickering fire, it felt like an eerie pressure.
The dark green flame before Partak burned even more fiercely. Since his lord couldn’t possibly fail to control his magic, this was clearly a threat. Partak swallowed his dry throat, feigning calmness as he stared at the fire.
“If I incite division, how many forces would follow your lead?”
[……Are you suggesting dividing the Federation of Beastmen Nobles? To what extent?]
Division is the foundation of rule. A wise ruler unites the people, but a tyrant divides them. People are like beasts, always needing a clear enemy, and a king’s politics revolve around sharply dividing these enemies.
And now, it’s the era of tyrants. Every ruler in this age is accustomed to directing the people’s anger and grievances toward external, and sometimes internal, enemies. Partak was one of those men who rose to power using such tactics.
[The elders and chieftains are already clearly divided. The chieftains are under the control of that prophetess, while I hold the council. Isn’t that the rule you desired, my lord?]
“That’s not enough. I’m not talking about shadowy schemes. How many would follow you in turning their blades against each other, sparking conflict, and even war?”
[……]
Partak fell silent for a moment, staring at the flames. He thought of the effort it took to unite the Federation of Nobles.
Was he serious? The Federation had barely managed to navigate the complex politics of the wasteland, annihilating opposing tribes to grow. Dividing the Beastmen, who had just gained momentum, would mean robbing them of their future.
Of course, the future of the Beastmen wasn’t Partak’s concern. But as far as he could tell, his lord seemed to desire a united Beastman nation. Even going so far as to elevate some strange Beastwoman to hero status.
[It won’t be easy. Hearttaker’s support base is thicker than you think. Those who survived the war with the Lavireta Dynasty now form the core of the Federation. They are the kind who would douse themselves in oil and leap into the flames if the chieftain ordered it.]
“Impossible, you say?”
[Are you trying to make the chieftain a hero again? Hearttaker’s authority already reigns over all Beastmen. If you want to organize rebels only to have them crushed by the chieftain, there are more suitable candidates. It would be more fitting to rally them under the banner of reclaiming lost lands and attack the Wraith Dynasty, my lord.]
If Partak organized a rebellion, his lord would undoubtedly crush it. It was only a matter of time, given Fernandez’s track record of schemes.
He now looked at the sinister silhouette beyond the flames with the gaze of someone staring at an incomprehensible creature. Even in the blazing fire, he could see emotionless, glass-like eyes shining.
“Impossible, you say?”
[Is there a need to further strengthen the chieftain’s authority? The forces I can muster wouldn’t even make up a tenth of the Federation. My rebellion would be quashed before the chieftain even arrives, and all you’d see is my corpse hanging from a pole.]
When the hunt ends, the hunting dog is roasted. Partak could feel his role fading under the chieftain’s shadow. The council he controlled could no longer serve as a check on the chieftain’s authority.
He wasn’t stupid. To survive, he needed authority, and most authority starts by undermining others’. The absent chieftain, the hero who abandoned the Beastmen. This narrative had, fortunately, been effective so far.
But was it enough? Kirhas’s supporters were still close to fanatics, not easily swayed by Partak’s propaganda. Recently, Partak had even felt the threat of assassination from Kirhas’s followers.
[Are you planning to discard me?]
So, he had to ask. Even if they tried to discard him, it wouldn’t be easy. With that resolve, he calculated his chances of survival in his mind.
“Your usefulness isn’t exhausted yet. Why would I do that?”
When he received the exact same answer as the first question, and saw Fernandez’s smile, Partak felt a forgotten fear creeping back toward this inscrutable master.
“You don’t need to draw your sword yourself. Politics is like that.”
As the words continued.
“Set up a puppet. If you lack forces, ally with the Wraith Sovereigns. Create the strongest enemy possible.”
It wasn’t about creating an enemy suitable for the chieftain to crush. If that were the case, Partak himself would have stepped forward. He was the only force within the Federation that openly resisted the chieftain’s authority.
“Human nobles move for reasons of honor, face, and profit.”
Human nobles? Partak raised his head. A map of the Great Wilderness hung in the corner of the tent caught his eye.
“Throw them the justification they desire, the profit they crave, and let the hunting dogs loose.”
[The chieftain won’t welcome a war that brings in foreign powers.]
“Impossible, you say?”
Whatever it was, it meant crushing the growth momentum of the Federation of Beastmen Nobles. But that wasn’t Partak’s concern.
[Will I survive?]
“If you remain useful.”
[Do I not need to step forward myself?]
“That would be preferable.”
[Then, my lord, I will gladly direct the play to create a hero.]
Kirhas Hearttaker was once just a foreign Beastgirl, a former slave. The foundation for her rise to heroism was a collaboration between Partak and Fernandez.
So, when it came to creating heroes, these two were experts. After all, every hero needs a villain.
On a night when dark green flames burned, as they gazed at the campfire from different places, the two villains smiled the same smile.
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