49. Special Operation: Touring Performance
*
“Your Excellency, please eat something. You’ll ruin your health.”
For three days, Fernandez had been practically living in the storage room and archives, gathering materials. Kirhas handed him a biscuit with a worried look.
On the side table of the records room, countless documents and books were piled up haphazardly. Fernandez rubbed his tired eyes but didn’t stop working. Under his hands, a thick document was nearing completion.
[Special Operation Proposal: Touring Performance]
Fernandez smiled as he stamped the cover of the proposal. He neatly folded a map of the Dane Kingdom, covered with notes and highlights, and attached it to the proposal. It was a masterpiece he and Faijashi had worked on for three sleepless nights.
The Dane Kingdom—Fernandez thought of his homeland. The Sernerd Barony was one of the forgotten rural territories of the Dane Kingdom. This country, which could also be called his motherland, was now about to become a grand stage for a play. The protagonist, the allies, the antagonists—the script for all the characters, lighting, and sound was in his hands.
A war would break out between Phaeirn and Dane. In his previous life, Phaeirn had fallen due to the Demdrizard Church, while Dane, suffering under the tyranny of a mad king, barely maintained the Eastern Kingdom Alliance under the young hero Vicente II, who ascended the throne just before the Great War.
However, Demdrizard had fallen from power, and the demonic church that ruled Phaeirn from the shadows had been expelled by Zephis. In this chaotic international situation, with Infermur falling into the hands of the Dane Kingdom, Phaeirn began preparing for war.
The current situation, though not entirely Fernandez’s intention, was within his expected range. After the Infermur incident, upon returning to the Inquisition Office, Fernandez had been plotting to prevent this war.
-Crunch.
Fernandez chewed on the biscuit as he thought. If the Eastern Kingdom Alliance collapsed, the Leviathan Empire alone wouldn’t be able to sustain the war against the Kazarit Sultanate. And if the Kazarit Sultanate took control of the frontlines, beneath it lay…
“The Necropolis Undercatacombs…”
Fernandez recalled the continental map. The reason the great war between the two empires hadn’t subsided for over a century was due to their influence. The war, which was twisting the foundation of human civilization, had to be stopped, but the time wasn’t right yet.
If one of the two empires took control of the central region where the Undercatacombs were located, and if those beings were released from underground, even Fernandez’s power wouldn’t be enough to stop the situation. The current balance of power between the Leviathan Empire and the Kazarit Sultanate needed to be maintained a little longer.
In any case, to keep the war in the central region going for now, Fernandez had to stop the war in the Eastern Kingdom. He chuckled at this paradoxical situation. Finishing the biscuit, he stood up with the proposal in hand.
*
-Tap, tap.
Beorn slowly read Fernandez’s proposal, almost chewing on the words. He kept glancing at the map of the Dane Kingdom and tapping the table. Fernandez sipped his tea, waiting patiently.
-Thud.
Finally, Beorn closed the document and let out a long sigh. For a while, he sat in silence, rubbing his forehead. His monocle dangled from his thick index finger. Eventually, he opened his eyes.
“Is this your conclusion?”
“Yes, Director.”
What could a religious figure do to prevent the war between Phaeirn and Dane? The simplest and quickest answer Fernandez had come up with was one.
‘The Knight King must be resurrected.’
Or, at least, make people believe he had been resurrected. Under the assumption that the Church of the Temple of the Gods wouldn’t intervene politically, what was needed to stop this war was a hero. A symbolic hero, so symbolic that even other kingdoms wouldn’t dare invade.
“Fanciful and lengthy. You know that, right?”
“It would be if it fails.”
“Are you confident it will succeed?”
“I’ve never acted without confidence.”
“Humility is a virtue of the religious.”
“Thank you.”
Fernandez smiled. Beorn nodded at that smile. If he hadn’t become a priest, what would this young man have grown into? He secretly felt relieved at Fernandez’s arrogant smile. This was a young man who could have become a great hero or a terrible calamity.
“Don’t expect the Church’s support for this operation.”
“Of course not. The evidence of the Church’s involvement should only be known by the gods above.”
“You are now a secular priest.”
Beorn spoke calmly.
“Return the Church’s relics and revert to being a regular priest. Officially, until this operation succeeds, Fernandez Sernerd is not a member of the Inquisition Office. Your new identification will be sent as soon as it’s approved by the Papacy.”
“Thank you for everything so far.”
“Good luck.”
Until now, only a few priests of the Inquisition Office and a handful of Papacy priests knew about the saint. From the moment Fernandez decided not to act as the Church’s propaganda tool, he was treated as the Church’s hidden blade.
In the end, it was an extremely successful decision. The achievements Fernandez had made in his short time were anything but trivial. It was only possible because the gods had blessed him. Beorn stamped the proposal.
“I authorize the use of equipment. Go see Brother Marteiro to check your gear.”
“Thank you for your kindness. Abbot of St. Bartholomew Monastery.”
“Make sure you come back alive, Sir Sernerd. You have much to do.”
“Macto.”
“Macto Superlaudo, believer.”
The fact that Fernandez had been canonized was a top secret of the Inquisition Office. The Inquisition’s motto was only rumors, only results, only fear. In an era when the Temple of the Gods was sealed, the appearance of stigmata and a saint was too flashy a title.
Fernandez bowed deeply to Beorn and stepped back. He grabbed the doorknob and walked away. Creak, thud. The door closed with a dry sound. Beorn touched Fernandez’s proposal and sighed.
“May the Temple of the Gods protect us.”
He picked up the report he had prepared to send to the Papacy…
He took it out and threw it into the furnace.
-*Whoosh*.
Sparks scattered everywhere. He soon pulled out a new sheet of paper.
*
“How much do you plan to bring back this time?”
“At least more than just a sword hilt.”
Fernandez laughed cheerfully at Martelio’s words. Every mission, he’d return with all his equipment broken, and the old monk’s words came to mind. The Inquisition Office’s biggest expense was equipment consumption.
“Well, make sure you do.”
Martelio laughed and placed a longsword on the table. It was a plain longsword with no decorations. The blade, made of high-quality steel, reflected Fernandez’s face. Did he say “come back safely” like this to every Inquisition Officer who received equipment?
“A longsword, a greatsword, and a shield, right?”
“Chainmail too, please. A surcoat would be nice, and a gambeson, and some plate armor too.”
“Are you a wandering knight this time?”
“That’s the most convenient.”
Fernandez strapped on a harness filled with throwing daggers. He naturally drew a dagger, held it, and sheathed it again. The weapon he was most familiar with in his life was, of course, the dagger.
“Ah, that one’s not finished yet.”
“This is enough… Is there something else?”
“The clasp is a bit loose. No one wanted to use it, so it wasn’t repaired. Will it be okay?”
“Ah, it’s fine. Thank you.”
Fernandez signed the equipment requisition form and packed his things. The weight of the weapons felt reassuring.
*
In the outdoor chapel, Diemonica monks and Abel were present. The Diemonica, deeply impressed by Fernandez and Abel’s last sparring, kept challenging her. Abel laughed as she exchanged blows with the Diemonica.
-*Clang*!
“Impressive!”
Abel smiled as she deflected Fabiano’s greatsword in mid-air. Fabiano skillfully twisted the greatsword upward. The sheer strength to lift such a heavy sword with just his wrist was remarkable.
-*Whoosh*.
“Brother Fabiano is a highly skilled Diemonica. What do you think?”
“Ah, Brother.”
Zephis appeared beside Fernandez, who was watching Fabiano and Abel’s sparring. Zephis looked at Fernandez and spoke.
“You must’ve stayed up late again.”
“Diemonica can maintain their performance without sleep for about three days.”
“Interesting choice of words. Performance.”
Zephis chuckled and glanced at the load Fernandez was carrying.
“You’ve been assigned a mission quickly. You haven’t been back for long.”
“I’ve always been a busy person. Ah, Brother, how did your mission go…?”
Fernandez noticed the fatigue and sorrow in Zephis’s eyes and fell silent. He could guess without asking. The Phaeirn Royal Family incident was a significant mission, and many Inquisition Officers had been dispatched to the area.
“It ended as expected.”
Zephis quickly composed himself and spoke. He shrugged.
“I read the report on the Infermur incident. Unbelievable. The aftermath won’t be small.”
“That’s why I can’t rest.”
“Diligence is a model for Inquisition Officers. Where are you headed this time?”
“Home.”
To the Dane Kingdom. His homeland. The land of knights.
“Your homeland. I’m looking forward to it.”
Abel, who had finished sparring, approached him, wiping her sweat. Fernandez nodded briefly and looked at Fabiano, who was panting behind her.
“What about the Diemonica?”
“Their tactics are straightforward and honest. You said they hunt demons. Their movements are more like hunting techniques than swordsmanship. That made it quite challenging.”
Each strike carried the force of a troll, and their reflexes and instincts were as sharp as a beast’s. The Diemonica’s attacks were a method of ‘knowing you’ll get hit but being unable to avoid it.’ They assumed an enemy larger and stronger than themselves, and if you didn’t block, they’d tear through the space itself.
“Right. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the Dane Kingdom. Will you visit the capital?”
“I will.”
“Good.”
Abel’s eyes softened. Fernandez felt a pang of guilt as he looked at her. After all, he was using her.
-Do you love her?
Faijashi appeared behind Abel. He smirked at Fernandez.
-You don’t really consider these fools here as brothers, do you? Her, that beastwoman, they’re just pawns on our chessboard.
Fernandez glanced at Abel’s smile and Zephis’s tired face.
“Brother Zephis. I’m sorry, but I need to prepare now.”
“Ah, I’ve kept a busy man. My apologies.”
Zephis smiled and walked away. Fernandez thought as he walked down the corridor.
‘We don’t have the right to truly care for or love anyone.’
-That’s right. Even if we did, it wouldn’t be these people.
‘And we don’t have the right to belittle them either.’
Since the Infermur incident, Fernandez and Faijashi’s values had been clashing more frequently. Was this just a difference in their physical forms? Or was it a mechanism left by Vaitas, tearing their souls apart? Fernandez didn’t know. In his past life, as Faijashi, he wouldn’t have thought this way.
From afar, he heard Kirhas’s light, lively footsteps approaching. Her clear laughter painted itself in his mind, along with her cheerful voice.
-You’ve grown weak. Just hand your body over to me. If I do it, we’ll achieve our goals more efficiently and quickly.
‘We’re greedy people, Faijashi. I’ll never let go of what’s in my hands.’
Kirhas’s glossy black hair fluttered in the evening light of the Inquisition Office’s corridor.
“Your Excellency!!”
Kirhas ran toward him, her footsteps loud and unrestrained. If she wanted, she could approach without even the Diemonica noticing. She was coming to him, hoping he’d look at her.
If the operation he planned was a play, this scene was a masquerade. Fernandez put on a smiling mask and looked at Kirhas as she ran toward him.
Fernandez smiled and stroked her hair. Feeling his touch, Kirhas closed her eyes and let out a pleased hum.
‘In this life, I won’t let anything slip away. Nothing.’
-The day will come when you’ll have to choose.
Deceiving, acting, using, discarding, and sacrificing. As an old mage, nothing was more familiar to him. Fernandez held Kirhas in his arms and glared at Faijashi, who appeared before him.
‘For my son.’
-For him.
He’d seize the world and let nothing slip away. Even if the cost was himself. After all, the body was just a consumable.
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