63. Altberth, Midnight Prayer
*
Prince Helga paced anxiously in his chamber, fully armed. The fire in the market had drawn the attention of the royal guards, but this only worked against him.
Originally, the start of his planned rebellion was supposed to be this kind of terrorism. He intended to set part of the capital ablaze to divert the guards’ attention and bring Paliamen’s forces into the castle.
But now that things had turned out this way, the royal guards would maintain a heightened level of alert for some time. Prince Helga tapped the hilt of his sword, looking at the door.
“Your Highness, a messenger has arrived.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s a servant of Sir Albert.”
“…? Sir Albert’s? Let them in!”
Though not the guest he was expecting, any information was crucial at this moment. Prince Helga watched as Kirhas entered. She was holding Baimeer’s sword.
“…That sword…?”
“Sir Baimeer sent me in his stead.”
“Sir…? No, never mind. Don’t answer.”
Prince Helga was sharp and perceptive. In that brief moment, seeing Kirhas with Baimeer’s heirloom, he deduced the entire truth. He sighed and sat down at the table.
“Ah… Baimeer. You were not meant to go this way.”
“He fought honorably.”
“He always did. He always will, and that’s how he’ll be remembered. But my foolishness has killed a hero!”
Helga buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. After a moment of silence, he looked up at Kirhas with bloodshot eyes.
“So, you’ve come to deliver his will?”
“Yes. He said to leave the city and find Sir Paliamen. There is a traitor, and Princess Moria knows the whole truth…”
“…I see.”
Prince Helga staggered to his feet. His heavy armor, crafted by his father-in-law, clanked loudly. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and opened his eyes.
His emerald eyes shone like a lion’s. He had a natural charisma, the talent of a hero. Prince Helga looked down at Kirhas with a fierce gaze.
“Where is your lord, Sir Albert?”
“He is confronting Princess Moria and her mentor.”
“…What?”
The prince was stunned. Had they really found the witch they had been chasing for months so easily? And even lured Princess Moria out of the castle? The prince urgently called out toward the door.
“Hey, is anyone there?!”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
A guard knight hurriedly opened the door and appeared. Prince Helga, still gripping the sword hilt, asked, “Where is Princess Moria now?”
“She left in haste. She was seen departing with the guards on the Sovereign’s Road.”
“…Sir Baimeer. You left too soon!”
Prince Helga’s lips twisted into a sad smile. The heavy clanking of his armor echoed as he walked.
Clank, clank.
He slowly made his way to the corridor of his chamber. The corridor, lined with stone pillars, was filled with his knights, armed and waiting. Clank. About ten knights silently stepped aside as the prince passed.
“Pan.”
“Yes, my lord.”
A knight in ash-gray armor knelt beside the prince. The prince paused and looked down at him. Through the visor of the helmet, he could see the youthful face, reminiscent of Baimeer’s eyes.
“Receive your family sword from Kirhas, Sir Albert’s servant.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then go find Sir Paliamen. Order him to advance.”
“For the honor of the royal family.”
“For eternal honor. Althais’ Pfarnermeer. I trust you!”
At those words, the young knight trembled slightly and stood. Kirhas handed Baimeer’s sword to the approaching knight.
“And Kirhas. Will you follow me as well?”
“…I will go to my lord.”
“Convey my gratitude to your lord.”
Kirhas looked into Helga’s eyes. She seemed both resigned and determined. She gripped the sword hilt a few times, then turned and left the corridor.
Clank.
His knights followed him. Kirhas paused for a moment, then turned and left the hallway. Until the next mission came, she had to stay by Fernandez’s side.
*
Fernandez twitched his nearly powerless right arm. Since being struck by Chelini’s lightning, he had lost sensation in his right arm. The black halo burning behind his head slowly flickered and then disappeared.
‘You’ve suffered.’
-It was fun.
Faijashi giggled. Fernandez looked down at Moria, who was gasping in terror and shock. She was trembling, clutching Chelini’s corpse.
“Whose… remains are these?”
“Say it again. That a knight could never overcome the vastness of dark magic?”
It was laughable coming from the descendant of the Knight King, and even more so directed at himself. Fernandez looked at the distant guards and citizens. Moria’s political standing was now finished.
Moria’s face was filled with shame as she…
He turned the dog. Fernandez drew the last remaining dagger and approached her.
“Pray, witch.”
“Pray…?”
“To any god, with any words. Earnestly.”
“Inquisition… Officer…!”
Only then did Moria realize that Fernandez was not a temple knight or a wandering knight. She should have suspected it from the start. But, but why?
“How, how can an Inquisition Officer use dark magic…?”
“What are you talking about? When did I ever cast a spell?”
Fernandez feigned innocence with a smirk. In truth, throughout the battle, the only magic he had used through the three-headed, six-armed spirit was to disrupt, counter, or block the opponent’s magic. Only a mage would notice.
The black halo, the translucent three-headed, six-armed spirit floating in the air. In this dense fire, it wasn’t as flashy. Compared to the violent magic of spewing lightning and pulling out ominous blood-red spears from the void to throw.
Moria bit her lip as she realized this. She shouted fiercely.
“What were the gods doing when I prayed?”
“Huh?”
“When I begged, what were those so-called great gods of the Temple of the Gods doing?! Hypocrites, they only exploit spirituality, only collect faith! Your gods are no different from demons!”
Moria cursed the bloodline of the King Knight. Was it wrong to be born with innate magical power? To be born a woman? The king, the prince, and the knights of the Round Table treated her as a witch and ignored her. She was just a young girl!
“I will curse you. Be cursed! You hypocrites, forever!”
-Swish.
Her brilliantly shining hair was cut by the cold dagger. Moria had already drawn her obsidian dagger and cut her hair short. She glared fiercely at Fernandez and scattered her hair in the air.
-Whoosh!
Like a curtain draped in the air, a platinum-colored veil seemed to spread for a moment. As Fernandez hesitated, her hair caught fire and burned. The crimson flames began to consume everything around.
-You will be cursed.
Moria’s voice filled with resentment echoed. Fernandez was impressed. Truly a mind player. A magic worthy of Chelini’s disciple. Although Chelini had fallen before he could unleash his mental magic. Her disciple was properly executing the school’s magic.
-Rumble…
A heavy vibration shook the ground. It felt as if the flames were burning the entire world. Fernandez stood still, watching the flames filling his surroundings.
‘Better than the master.’
-You burned the soul. Impressive spirit.
Faijashi said in admiration. Yes, if it weren’t for the magical power ignited by burning the soul, such a powerful and pure magic couldn’t have been cast. Even for a brief moment, Moria had surpassed her own limits.
Was it because her political standing had collapsed, and she was to face the inquisition of the Temple of the Gods? Certainly, even if she survived this, a stake or a gallows would be prepared for her.
Prince Helga wouldn’t miss this opportunity. Moria’s hatred and anger were palpable.
-Even if I fall, your destruction is near!
Moria’s sharp voice echoed. Through the flames, hell was visible. Demons roamed, the corpses of saints hung on poles, and the remains of heroes were scattered like trash. Fernandez calmly smiled at the illusion Moria showed.
-Hell is approaching. Beneath your feet! Within your shadows! Even in the time you feel most secure and comfortable, it is always by your side!
“Ah, so it is.”
-…What?
For a moment, the illusion wavered. The young witch’s panicked expression was clear. Indeed, mental magic is threatening. At least against an ordinary knight. It was more threatening than the flashy magic visible to the eye.
But for him, with the Blood of Diemonica pulsing through his veins and the indomitable stigma, mental magic wasn’t very effective. Moreover, threatening him by showing the appearance of hell?
“When heroes sleep, when saints pray, when sages lock themselves in their chambers and flip through ancient texts. Hell does not stop. It’s an era where demons scream in every shadow.”
-What are you talking about…?
“But Moria. The dragon said. This era, the era of flames.”
Fernandez slowly reached out. Through the flames created by the illusion without hesitation. The Bronze Throne had ceased to function and would not recover for at least a day.
The manifested illusion burned his hand, as if scorched. But he reached out with his injured right hand, grabbed the being within, and stroked it.
-Ah…
“Even if we stand in the mud, even if the sky uses us and the earth hates us, we do not stop. Moria. Did you spend those sad, hard, painful times alone? Is that why you ended up cursing this world?”
Speaking from the position of a senior who walked that path before you. Fernandez paused for a moment. The illusion slowly crumbled. Among the dying flames, Moria was seen kneeling, bleeding.
Blood flowed from her emerald eyes. She had cast magic by burning her soul in her final moments and was dying from the backlash. Fernandez stroked the back of her head and knelt to meet her gaze.
“Only regret remains. Do you not have someone you love? It might have been a blessing for you.”
“You… were not an Inquisition Officer.”
“Once.”
Moria smiled breathlessly. Her eyes were filled with venom. After spitting out blood-tinged saliva, Fernandez whispered to her.
“Will you pray?”
“To whom? To the gods of your Temple of the Gods?”
“For you, towards yourself.”
“Funny, really. Fake priest.”
I’d rather curse. Moria said so and breathed her last. Fernandez placed his hand on her eyelids and paused for a moment.
‘May the Temple of the Gods bless. Just this once.’
He closed Moria’s eyes and drew a short cross.
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