< 127. The Dream of a Butterfly (5) >
*
Major heresy incidents that will occur from this point forward. Among them, events and individuals that will deal a significant blow to human civilization. And information about their weakest moments and the most suitable positions to attack.
The valuable information that Torchmen scattered around the world are desperately searching for flowed from Fernandez’s mouth.
“What on earth is this…?”
Zephis couldn’t close his gaping mouth. If we were to simply assess the value of Fernandez’s information… Well, even if all the members of the Inquisition Office staked their lives, it wouldn’t be enough.
Fernandez calmly spoke and tapped the desk, *tap*, *tap*.
“So, do you believe me now?”
“How much of this is true?”
“Start by verifying what can be cross-checked at this point.”
“Were you a prophet?”
“Ah, I’m confused about that too.”
Prophecy. Fernandez stroked his short beard. Perhaps it really was a prophetic dream. The memories of the past year. If this is reality, what’s the problem in calling it a prophetic dream?
But he still couldn’t be sure… Fernandez looked sharply at Zephis, who had turned pale and stiff.
“So, how about my proposal? Will you join hands with me?”
“What do you gain?”
“I already told Brother Fabiano… It seems you didn’t get the message. A happy life and a grand thought experiment. You will definitely get one of the two.”
“I didn’t expect you to desire a happy life.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
Fernandez twisted his lips and smiled. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His tattooed forearm was visible. A tattoo of a demon swallowing the sun, surrounded by numerous magical inscriptions.
A terribly heretical tattoo. Zephis frowned as he looked at the design.
“Don’t think we’ll blindly trust you. Heretic.”
“That’s why I’m suggesting a deal, not trust. Let’s just… narrow the distance between us.”
Fernandez slowly lifted his teacup and laughed. The flickering candlelight made his shadowed face seem distorted.
The typical appearance of a dark mage. Of course, Zephis doesn’t judge heretics by their appearance… But his judgment, honed over years as an Inquisition Officer, was being severely shaken at this moment.
“This… isn’t something I can decide alone.”
“Do as you wish. I have plenty of time. But you don’t. First, well. Don’t trust the elves, be wary of the northerners, you must kill King Helga of the Dane Kingdom, and investigate the Phaeirn Kingdom. That’s something you can’t delay any longer.”
At Fernandez’s words, Zephis stiffened and stood up. He couldn’t believe everything the man said, but his immediate task was to report this incident to the Church before verifying its truth.
*
An era where demons laugh in every shadow. An era where the virtuous are hanged, the wise are engulfed in madness, nuns commit debauchery, and heroes are poisoned.
Fernandez sat at the front of the carriage, whipping the horses. He was slowly ascending a mountain path strewn with autumn leaves.
The driver’s seat, to put it simply, is not a comfortable space. The lantern hanging in front of the driver’s seat creaked due to a rusty hook.
The mountains were dangerous during this period. In fact, no journey during this time could be considered safe. Roads just outside the cities and towns were sporadically infested with demons, evil minions, wild beasts, and monsters.
For example, like that scene.
-*Whoosh!*
The horses reared and stopped. Fernandez slowly released the reins and looked at the corpse lying by the road and the walker feeding on it.
-*Munch*, *munch*.
The walker was silently devouring the traveler’s corpse with dull eyes. The corpse, with its abdomen torn open, had maggot-infested organs scattered on the road.
A common sight. Fernandez slowly drew a dagger from his pocket, aimed at the creature for a moment, and then threw it.
-*Thud!*
The dagger cleanly pierced the walker’s crown. The creature fell dead, still clutching a piece of flesh in its mouth. It wasn’t worth using magic on such a foe. But these creatures were likely scattered all over the mountains during this period.
The mountains near Phaeirn were plagued by walkers. The Bronze Scales, though nearly destroyed in their power struggle with Demdrizad, had unleashed a walker crisis that was burning through all regions of the Eastern Kingdom Alliance.
“Teacher?”
“Don’t come out. Aria. Stay and rest.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
Fernandez adjusted the reins and led the frightened horses. From inside the carriage, the sound of rustling paper and pages turning could be heard again. During the journey, Aria always read the magic books he had written for her.
“*Sigh*.”
Fernandez opened a water bottle, took a sip, and adjusted the reins. The road to the Empire was relatively well-maintained and safe. But he couldn’t take that route.
Although his deal with the Vaitas Church had been successful, from the Empire’s perspective, he was still one of the wanted wandering mages.
-*Clatter*, *clatter*.
He gazed at the night road dimly lit by the lantern, an endless stretch of dark, long path. Monsters could suddenly appear anywhere on the mountain road, and because of that, he couldn’t rest or sleep peacefully.
“At this age…”
“It’s a journey too tough to eat and do.”
But it’s a journey that can’t be entrusted to anyone. At least, Aria would be safest by his side.
He gazed at the night road, lost in thought. Where to start? First, when approaching the Empire’s territory, he had to contact the Inquisition Office.
*
“Your words were true.”
“You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that.”
Fernandez looked at Paul IV’s eyes and smirked. Numerous spells bound his body, and he knelt within a sealing circle created by the Enmagika.
Since being summoned to the Inquisition Office, the attitude of the Inquisition Officers towards him remained the same. Suspicion, hatred, anger, disgust. A sharp, cold distrust that seemed ready to cut out his tongue if he spoke.
And after the Pope decided to visit personally, his situation worsened. Persistent barriers blocking his magic, 24-hour surveillance by Heretics, and crossbows and daggers always aimed at him.
Even now, kneeling in the middle of the cathedral, with a heavy sword at his side, surrounded by dozens of Inquisition Officers with spears and blades, he barely managed to meet Paul IV.
Paul slowly rolled the rosary in his hand, lost in thought.
“Faith is not something that appears in a moment, and the river between you and us is not easily crossed. How many of our brothers have lost their lives by your hand?”
“I never struck first. Didn’t you try to kill me?”
“Have you forgotten your past of slaughtering innocents, poisoning heroes, and corrupting priests?”
“My memory isn’t the best.”
Fernandez smirked, and anger erupted among the Inquisition Officers beside him.
-Whirr!
“Ugh!”
“Shall I remind you?”
“…You’ll regret it.”
The chains binding his neck and arms were roughly pulled, causing him to collapse to the ground. Fernandez chuckled, looking at the Inquisition Officer pressing a spear blade against him.
“How will you make me regret it? Heretic, what can you do now?”
“If you kill me, you will lose. Almost certainly. Before the situation worsens, while there’s still strength left in civilized society to overcome the times. There are things that need to be set right.”
“That’s true. Lower your blade, brothers.”
-Swish.
Zephis pressed down the spear blade and stepped forward. He looked down at Fernandez with calm eyes, then slowly bowed his head to the Pope.
“Your Holiness, no lies were found in his testimony.”
“I’ve received the report. Indeed, it’s true.”
“This doesn’t mean we can trust him. But there is a way to use him.”
“Continue.”
“I humbly request the establishment of a new department here.”
Zephis slowly stood beside Fernandez. The sight of Diemonica protecting a heretic was a great shock to the Inquisition Officers. A murmur rose among them.
-Thud.
“Silence in the presence of His Holiness.”
An old man struck the floor roughly with a wooden cane and shouted. Fernandez smirked, looking at the old man who seemed about to collapse. Another familiar face.
‘Marco Sunday…’
The Inquisition Officer is the light that reveals truth through reason and logic. The image of a kind middle-aged man flashed through his mind.
“A new department?”
“Those who know the weaknesses of demons best are the demons themselves. We have been content with sealing their weapons, tricks, and relics in the Great Sealing War. But, like the worm in the lion’s heart that brings down the lion. Your Holiness, I propose the establishment of a new department that uses the power of heretics to purify heretics, utilizing the Great Sealing War.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It is said, your path of moderation is your shame. Not you, but tend to the Lord’s flock. You must willingly walk the thorny path and pave it with your blood.”
“The Lord knows what you seek and will grant it.”
“Amen.”
Paul chanted briefly and made the sign of the cross. Zephis swallowed and continued.
“Therefore, I will use him and recruit other heretics willing to judge heretics. And I will lead them, taking full responsibility and oversight.”
“With your strength and wisdom, you can surely control that mage… Very well.”
The Pope closed his eyes for a moment. May the Temple of the Gods bless us. This decision was an unprecedented event in the long history of the Church.
To allow a heretic into the Inquisition Office, the purest part of the Church. A task too daunting to even speak of.
If the Pope’s heart is like this, how must Zephis feel, having to propose this? The Pope could read his complex and uneasy emotions.
But outwardly, Zephis was as calm as a stone. Seeing this, the Pope finally nodded.
“Very well. I, no, we all can trust and entrust this to you. Proceed as you wish.”
“I will not betray your faith.”
“Then, a fourth department will be established in the Inquisition Office.”
The Pope clapped his hands as if to lighten the mood. He spoke in a more cheerful voice.
“What shall we name this department?”
“Religiosa Maledica (Monastery of Sin).”
Zephis looked down at Fernandez, kneeling and bound in chains. His bare upper body was covered in blasphemous images and evil incantations.
The image of a horned demon, sticking out its tongue as if ready to devour the sun, fields, and mountains, was drawn all over his back and arms.
Sin. Is there a word more fitting to symbolize him? Paul slowly lowered his rosary and spoke as if in prayer.
“May the Lord embrace even their sins.”
“No.”
Fernandez, who had been silently listening, looked up at Paul from his kneeling position and spoke.
“May our enemies drown in our sins.”
If my sins and regrets are enough for that. Fernandez twisted his lips into a smile.
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