A Priest's Life as a Villain

Chapter 22

Bern spoke first.

"Deputy Leader Gordon's hard work and dedication have always served as an example for our Special Unit."

"Oh, really, such flattery the moment I sit down."

Both wore insincere smiles on their lips.

Ran glanced at Gordon out of the corner of his eye.

'So that's the famous old fox.'

There wasn't even a hint of a warrior's spirit from Gordon. His slight frame stood out even more in contrast to the holy knights lined up behind him.

In fact, his background matched that impression. He was a man who suited a political aristocrat far more than a holy knight.

"This must be the first time I've come to the Special Unit headquarters since the completion ceremony, hasn't it? Oh dear, this is embarrassing. My throat is completely parched."

Sensing the mood, Bern ordered some water from a Special Unit member outside. While he did so, Gordon examined the hall's interior and the inquisitors one by one. His indifferent gaze only served to heighten the tension in the room unintentionally.

Gordon took a sip of water and then clasped his hands together.

"Now that the Lord's sons have gathered, shall we begin with a prayer?"

At Gordon's invocation, the holy knights all straightened and bowed their heads respectfully. Bern, a member of the clergy by birth, lowered his head slightly as well. The inquisitors stood at their ease, watching them.

The solemn prayer continued.

"Huuuuuaaaam."

Hank's long-drawn yawn echoed through the hall. Some of the inquisitors nearby even snickered.

Prayer is a sacred ceremony. Most of the holy knights pretended not to notice, but a young knight next to Gordon pointed straight at Hank, traced his finger across his own lips, then closed his eyes and resumed praying.

"Thank you for waiting, brothers."

As Gordon finished praying, he spoke.

The meeting headed straight to the main point without preamble. Gordon opened the conversation.

"Lately, there have been many unfortunate events inside and out, haven't there? Despite your tireless efforts, shameless heretics have become more active internally, and externally, there are even cautious voices suggesting that the civil war could drag on."

His bland features betrayed nothing, making it impossible to read his intentions.

All the members of the Special Unit, Ran included, sat quietly listening to Gordon's words.

"Representing our ailing leader, the great Saint Franz, I feel an immense sense of responsibility. As a faithful servant of Lord Asriel, I hereby propose this to you, commander Bern."

Gordon handed Bern a sheet of parchment edged with gold.

"The Special Unit is to delegate its authority and functions to the holy knights and immediately begin a downsizing reorganization. Both sides are to cooperate closely to ensure a smooth transition toward full dissolution within the near future."

His tone was ambiguous—whether it was meant as a threat or a conciliatory gesture was unclear.

The Special Unit erupted at once in harsh opposition. Embarrassing curses were hurled about haphazardly.

Some inquisitors even made a show of reaching for their weapons, prompting several holy knights to respond in kind. The hall was instantly on the brink of a clash.

"Disband the Special Unit? Brother, what are we supposed to live on now? My retirement savings are still a long way off."

In the middle of these heated exchanges, Peco sighed as if the world were collapsing.

Yet Ran remained calm. He had expected that the holy knights might make such a move. What interested him now was what kind of back-up plan Bern had prepared.

Next to him, Peco nervously watched Ran.

'? Just like always. I can never tell what he's thinking. He's my brother, but sometimes he scares me at times like this.'

Bern and Gordon calmed their subordinates. Once the heated atmosphere had cooled a little, Gordon offered additional explanations.

He listed out all the recent incidents that had erupted due to the Special Unit's mistakes.

"It'd be difficult to ignore the fact that the mistrust toward the Holy Church circulating among the public begins with the distorted passion and contributions of everyone present here. Though, of course, I don't personally agree."

Bern sat with his back straight, meeting Gordon's gaze without a hint of agitation.

The policy of the holy knights was the will of the emperor.

Surely Special Unit Commander Bern understood that. He wasn't in a position to act so unconcerned.

'Could he know?'

Gordon rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. The merger strategy for the Special Unit had been his own idea. Neither Leader Franz nor the emperor had been involved. It was a move underpinned by complicated political calculations.

Gordon wanted to settle this before the emperor returned to the capital.

"I can't agree with that, either!"

A hearty voice called out from one side. All eyes turned in that direction.

"Dog seller Zima!"

The gathered crowd broke into exclamations, uncertain whether they were gasps of awe or groans of dismay. Those who recognized Zima showed a range of animated expressions. Even Gordon's brow twitched.

Zima swaggered toward the round table, unconcerned.

"Father!"

"Oh, Peco!"

Zima pulled Peco into a bear hug, and Ran glanced over as well.

Ran's face turned pale—not because of Zima, but because of the girl standing next to him. His trembling gaze was fixed on her.

'Why are you here??'

The girl they'd taken from One-Armed Jack. She should have been somewhere safe under Zilla's protection.

As before, Emma kept her head bowed, shutting out the world.

"Zima. You've finally returned?!"

Bern gritted his teeth, struggling not to let his excitement show. His gaze, as it turned to Emma, shone with greedy anticipation.

"No way?"

Gordon stood up, his expression changing for the first time. His jaw trembled faintly.

"Is that the 'Vessel'?"

"It is, sir Gordon. I suppose we'll have to start from the beginning."

At Zima's answer, Gordon fell silent and sat back down.

From the moment Zima appeared, Gordon stopped speaking entirely. He simply stared at Emma with suspicion.

The meeting made no further progress.

Zima raised a new agenda.

"There's no time for the Special Unit and the holy knights to be squabbling. Are you aware the northern Haskinderun family has begun gathering rebel remnants again? They're claiming they'll reclaim their territory and make a last stand there."

"Haskinderun—that's the northern land far from the capital."

"If you traverse the Astana Mountains of that region, you'll reach the capital's underbelly in no time. Have you forgotten the humiliation of Lucerne? Even without that, shouldn't you be extremely vigilant about a rebel force of this scale emerging outside the eastern front lines? I wonder if this is truly the astute Sir Gordon I know."

The meeting ended without any resolution.

Gordon led the holy knights out of the hall first, with the inquisitors dispersing soon after.

"What is this 'Vessel'?"

Ran asked Bern and Zima as they reunited. Ran's gaze flicked between Emma and Zima.

"That's all you have to say when you see your father again after so long?"

"? Please answer."

"Ran, have you already forgotten? I can put up with anything, but I can't stand disrespect."

Zima stood, looming intimidatingly over Ran. Ran showed no sign of yielding.

"R-Ran, maybe you should wait until father and the commander have finished talking?"

Peco intervened, flustered, but it had no effect. Only when Bern stepped in did Zima calm down.

Just when it seemed resolved, Zima suddenly wrapped a rough arm around Ran's shoulders and slowly led him away to a more secluded spot.

Zima leaned in close to Ran's face.

"This isn't the time to be curious about that. The Vessel or whatever, none of that is what matters right now."

Zima glanced back at Bern, then spoke in a low voice.

"The fact that the Special Unit ended up like this. If I were Bern, you'd be the first person I'd suspect."

A chill swept over Ran. He tried to stare at Zima nonchalantly. Between his short, bristly beard, yellowed teeth were bared in a wide grin.

"I don't know what you've been up to, but don't you think you should be more careful, huh?"

Zima said this, patting Ran's chest roughly before walking away.

'Shit, that really hurts.'

Ran spat quietly.

* * *

Several more days passed after the first meeting.

In the meantime, a few more inquisitors returned from missions abroad. They were all ordered to remain in Gerinhild for now.

Several more three-way talks between Gordon, Zima, and Bern took place.

The inquisitors paid no mind to anything but their own futures—their nerves worn thin with worry.

"Gerinhild! It really is a magnificent city."

Peco kept pestering Ran to show him around the Gerinhild city center.

Ran had refused at first, but realized he didn't have anything better to do, and relented with a put-upon shrug.

"I feel like a total country bumpkin. Heh, well, I guess I am. My hometown's one of the southernmost islands on the continent and I've always worked in the south."

The city was bustling in the middle of the day. Everyone who passed by sneaked glances at Peco.

The dark-skinned black race was a rare and unusual sight. It wasn't as bad as how people treated demons, but the stares were far from friendly.

Ran glanced over indifferently. Peco was fidgeting with his mask.

"Let's just eat. I'm hungry."

Ran took Peco to a fairly well-known restaurant in the city center. It was lunchtime, so there was a crowd outside the entrance, and as soon as the two sat down, a long line formed for tables. They'd just slipped in.

"Wow, people line up just to eat? Is this the majesty of the capital?"

Cultural differences aside, Peco found it hard to understand. Still, he smiled contentedly as he watched Ran order.

'As expected, it was worth asking Ran.'

In Peco's memory, Ran had always been that kind of person. He pretended not to care about the other brothers, spoke bluntly, but there was a subtle kindness about him. Peco especially remembered that Ran had never once commented on his skin color. As a boy with many wounds, Peco understood the difference between indifference and gentle consideration.

On their plates lay thick cuts of meat drenched in a dark, thick sauce. Ran explained to the bewildered Peco how to eat it.

"It's very different from southern cuisine."

Peco's eyes went wide as he tasted a piece. It was delicious.

Cheered up, Peco began reminiscing.

"It's already been over two and a half years, huh? I still remember when you first came, Ran."

At the time, Peco was eighteen—the youngest and the smallest among more than thirty brothers.

One day, father Zima brought Ran, a little older than Peco but so much taller and with a pale face. The two were such opposites that Peco couldn't help feeling a bit defensive.

"Was it during the pursuit of Baron Rochen's prisoners? Do you remember? Back then, you—"

"Peco. Eat."

"O-oh, sorry!"

Peco buried his face in his plate and glanced up to steal a look at Ran.

Ran had become much more sensitive since reuniting with Zima. Whenever he met with Zima, he couldn't keep his eyes off the girl by his father's side. Even if Ran pretended not to care, Peco, with his years of observation and inquisitor experience, wasn't fooled.

Suddenly, something came to mind.

"Oh, now that I think about it—I met father once in the south. Not by chance—I thought he'd come specifically to see me. He said something odd that time."

"Odd?"

"Yeah. He told me, if I ever found a certain child, I should bring her straight to him and gave me an address. Probably his temporary lodgings. Like a safe house or something."

Ran, wiping his mouth with a dry napkin, listened carefully.

"Who's the child?"

"Uh, so—a human-demon half-blood. She'd have to be a young girl, pre-adolescence, and she supposedly uses holy power."

Ran frowned. The idea of a human with demon blood using holy power was beyond absurd—especially in a child.

Not even in fairy tales did such things exist.

"It doesn't make sense."

"Exactly. I thought the same—you can't make this stuff up. When I asked again, he just said to bring her if I ever found her. Then he left. What's next, hunting down a mythical beast? Right?"

Ran thought of One-Armed Jack's story. There had been no mention of the origin of his lover—Emma's father, fabien. The same with Nuria. That empty-eyed girl evoked no sign of demonic energy, not even emotion.

'?? Vessel.'

Zima, Bern, and Gordon had all called Emma the 'Vessel.'

Ran was bothered by the term.

Dark mages like Dante would speak of a 'beast vessel'—they'd make pacts with dying demons on the battlefield, summoning beasts into their bodies or forcibly resurrecting them to fight again.

Ding, ding, ding, ding.

Suddenly a bell clanged noisily from outside. Compared to the Gerinhild bell, it was crude and noisy. Out the window, a boy was racing through the streets shaking a small handbell.

The two quickly put away their tableware.

The bell rang four quick times, with pauses in between.

It was the signal for emergency assembly.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
Here's some cursed words: Boku no Peco.
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】