Chapter 21: The Power of Faith
This happened while I was sound asleep.
Suddenly, at some point, my body started shaking, and I heard wailing sounds coming from somewhere. It sounded exactly like someone had died. Thinking I might have returned to the modern era, I forced my eyes open.
“Young Master, how can you be like this!”
I saw John sitting right next to me, crying and with a runny nose. Why is this guy suddenly like this? I was so bewildered that I couldn’t say anything for a while. I raised my hand, waved it dismissively, and sat up.
“John, I’ve endured your whining cries ever since coming to this monastery, and now you’re disturbing my sleep like this? Should I really end your miserable life with these hands to make you come to your senses?”
“Ah, ah! No… Young Master! This is not the time for that!”
“What isn’t?”
If he spouts nonsense, I should give him a good whack on the head. With that resolution, I listened with a blank expression. Seeing my attitude, John whispered in a low voice without even wiping away his tear stains.
“The atmosphere in the monastery is strange. Something, something ominous is happening!”
“…”
There were two main reasons why I brought this troublesome friend along. The first was because few servants would follow me all the way to the monastery, and the second was because of his remarkable crisis detection ability.
John becomes restless and shows an extremely paranoid attitude when he senses a threat to his safety. But he doesn’t know why the threat is approaching. Or perhaps he knows the reason but can’t express it properly.
However, as long as you don’t expect too much, he was an excellent talent. John was a man who had no intention of harming his master, was moderately virtuous, and didn’t even try to uncover secrets. I can’t think of anyone more suitable as a human alarm.
And that human alarm is now wailing loudly. Sensing the gravity of the situation, I immediately got up.
“If you can, go to the window. Bring the candlestick too. We’ll use it as a last line of defense. You, grab a book or something to at least block one stab.”
“You, you’re not going to run away?”
“Not yet.”
I couldn’t move hastily until I knew the details. If I attempted a clumsy escape and aroused the abbot’s suspicion, any future contact with the outside world would be cut off. Above all, it would be throwing away my own life.
“John, you too, don’t try to run away recklessly. The fact that they’re causing a commotion at this hour suggests that the perpetrator is unlikely to have proper intentions.”
“Yes, yes!”
“Once we’re prepared, let’s wait for a bit and observe the situation outside.”
John and I decided to prepare for any potential situation. We overturned a table to block the door, tore up a blanket to make ropes, and slightly heated the end of a candlestick with the flame. I did not hesitate to advise the still fearful John.
“When I knock it over, you must pull that blanket over the attacker’s head and strangle them. Keep them from breathing, that’s how we survive. Understand?”
“Stran… strangle.”
“Why? Are you hesitating?”
“What does ‘strangle’ mean?”
“…”
Only when I told him to tightly grip their necks so they can’t breathe did he finally nod. We spent quite some time like this. By then, I could understand the ominous atmosphere John had sensed.
It is said that when entering an accursed or haunted house, one’s entire body shivers and feels a chilling sensation. While it’s uncertain if there are truly ghosts in haunted houses, the longer one stays, the more convinced one becomes that some danger will befall them.
That peculiar atmosphere left in places where people have unnaturally disappeared. Fluttering garments in the eerie night air, concealing a chilling coldness. And the sound of gurgling, faintly echoing off the walls.
It was certain. I nodded and broke the silence.
“The sound of someone dying.”
“Someone? …In the monastery?”
“Do you think it’s easy to let out a scream when dying? Well, it is easy in a way.”
The scream let out when one feels like they’re going to die and the sound made right before death are different. Both are equally chilling enough to make one’s spine tingle, but the important part is the “feels like” portion.
“They’re dying without being able to scream even once. If they sensed a threat, they would have tried to flee or defend themselves, trying to protect their vital areas, mainly the face and neck. But since that’s not the case, the victim must have been caught off guard.”
“How is that possible? If they came to kill, wouldn’t they be holding weapons?”
“Aren’t there plenty of people who can carry weapons without arousing suspicion?”
John made a puzzled expression as if he had heard a riddle. Yes, just live in ignorance. Anyway, if my guess is correct, a massacre is currently taking place inside the monastery.
And the perpetrators are fellow priests. Whether due to differing positions or conflicting interests, I’m not sure. I have some idea… but the fact is that my concerns were justified.
Yubas’ scheme to target my life.
This slaughter happening in the monastery now is the real main attack.
***
Once again, I secretly applauded Yubas’ meticulousness.
The monastery, surrounded by walls, is safe from attacks. The priests themselves are powerful warriors, making it easy to defend. So one would assume being inside the monastery means safety. This common notion lowered their guard and led to carelessness.
Especially targeting the vague notion that the priests, cut off from the secular world and diligently practicing their faith, would lack worldly desires and be difficult to sway, was the biggest factor.
In the instant the inside and outside are flipped, the walls become bars cutting off outside help. The powerful warrior priests become threats, and the vague image of priests is replaced by that of excellent assassins.
Yubas… they are remarkable. To be this despicable requires sustained effort. They are truly sincere in expanding their power to this extent. But I was no easy target to simply endure passively.
Especially when the stake was my life.
At that moment, the lingering echoes of life, the gurgling sounds of bloody phlegm, approached the corridor and began knocking on our door. The sound of something heavy leaning against the door and sliding down made the already timid John start grinding his teeth.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh no.”
Despite all restraint, unmistakable signs of life remained beyond the door. But I did not panic like John. The new visitor was quite polite in knocking on the door.
Moreover, it was a familiar voice.
“Young Master Narva. Are you unharmed?”
It was Priest Sertell, with his plump face and gentle voice, carrying a slightly unsettled expression. He maintained a calm and composed tone, as if proving his exceptional swordsmanship skills.
Not a hint of labored breathing could be sensed. Leaning back, I engaged in a conversation with Priest Sertell through the door between us.
“Thanks to you. The attackers?”
“It seems you’ve grasped the situation. It’s as if you already knew such an incident would occur.”
“I already warned you. What made you think they wouldn’t seek to harm me? Did you truly not understand that those hoping for my demise would move?”
“…They were fellow priests. My own brothers.”
Aha. You knew an attack would come, but didn’t expect it to be from fellow priests? It’s comical for them, who engage in politics enough to stab people in the back, to think there’s no politics within the monastery.
I immediately dismissed Priest Sertell’s remorseful tone.
“It seems they wanted to become superiors above you brothers. Even in a monastery, there are positions and implicit ranks, so why wouldn’t they aim for that if they had support?”
“Young Master, stop with the mockery. We must set aside the long-standing matters between us for now. As it stands, Young Master is in danger. I will escort you to the abbot’s chambers, so I ask for your cooperation, if only reluctantly.”
“If I die, Duke Aselton will be enraged.”
The priests swayed by Yubas or the Bishop of Povius must have thought this way. That either Yubas or the bishop would act before Duke Aselton’s wrath, allowing the monastery to remain safe.
More likely, it would be the opposite.
There’s a higher chance Duke Aselton will use the destroyed monastery as an [excuse] to take action. That would be perfect for quelling backlash from the local church and earning favor.
But instead of explaining these details, I gave him a much more definitive answer.
“But Sertell, what’s important to you is not his wrath, but the rewards, isn’t it?”
“Young Master, are you… suspecting me now?”
“It’s not suspicion, but a more concrete proposal.”
This guy really thought he could deceive me. If Sertell had come to save my life, cutting through the enemy like a fierce tiger, there would have been at least some sounds of swordplay.
Moreover, if he were a proper person, rather than immediately coming to me, he would have rung a bell or shouted to alert others of the attack. I don’t know who Priest Sertell was swayed by.
“Is there really a need to go to the abbot’s chambers? There are those here who, blinded by wicked thoughts, will kill the abbot.”
“Young Master, do not try to seduce me with such words.”
“Even if you claim my death was the work of raiders, Duke Aselton won’t believe it. Even if you fabricate that the abbot killed me, Duke Aselton’s wrath or the bishop or Yubas trying to cover up evidence could lead to you being silenced.”
Despite such words, he doesn’t take any aggressive action. He’s tempted. Now was the moment to drive the wedge in deeper. Pointing out what Yubas and the Bishop of Povius had omitted, I made a compelling proposal.
“Sertell, think about it. Eventually, the Bishop of Povius will have to grovel before Duke Aselton for his appointment. If Duke Aselton refuses, he’ll have to bow to the Papacy, but he won’t go that far. If Yubas rules this land, why would he use you when he has his own people? But if this incident can be used to condemn the current bishop, then the bishop’s position will become vacant.”
“…”
“For a while, there will be jockeying for the next bishop, and the abbot will play a pivotal role in supporting a candidate. The one who testifies to the current bishop’s unjust intervention and gains Duke Aselton’s support.”
Those who are overly protective of their possessions will only give out meager allowances. Thus, they leave room for the people they’ve swayed to waver. It’s no use for the swayed to question their own realistic chances with words.
To the monstrous people of Ise who have already abandoned their principles for gain, realism or risk means nothing. They only look at potential gains, theoretical numbers.
Priest Sertell was a prime example.
“Young Master, what are you believing in to speak like this?”
“I trust people.”
Ambiguous words make the listener think. Perfect for falling into the trap of self-contradiction. I meant that Sertell couldn’t resist his greed, but Sertell interpreted it differently.
He understood it as trusting Duke Aselton’s care for his child. Soon after, a stillness fell, as if everyone held their breath. After a while, the sound of a blade slithering like a snake being drawn from its sheath could be heard.
It was then that someone other than Sertell urgently spoke.
“Brother Sertell. Surely not at this point…”
Priest Sertell must at least be skilled with the sword, if nothing else. Or he excels at ambushing his opponents. I could clearly imagine his accompanying fellow priests collapsing before they could even respond.
The sounds of gurgling bloody phlegm, the thuds of droplets of blood. Occasionally, the wheezing of escaping wind. But not a single scream could be heard. It makes one wonder if the doctrine of restraining from killing truly exists.
I clicked my tongue and turned around. Even our dull John seemed to have realized something had happened, trembling uncontrollably.
“John, it’s done now. Clear the table blocking the door and let Priest Sertell in.”
“Oh… oh oh oh, Young Master. He, he seems insane. You… you seem insane!”
“Oh my. Why such words to one who has acknowledged true justice? Quickly, open the door for him.”
The poor boy was truly terrified, unable to see what was before him. Was calling Priest Sertell insane supposed to be his remark? There are separate times for speaking the truth. After sternly reprimanding John, I soon gazed beyond the creakingly opened door.
Priest Sertell was bowing deeply, in a polite manner I had never seen before. Thanks to this, I could see how drenched his robe was. If it weren’t for the dark color, had it been pure white, it would have already been dyed crimson.
“Young Master Narva. Then where shall I escort you?”
Sertell, the plump-faced priest, greeted John and me with a kind smile. After dealing with the vicious attackers, his face was even spattered with blood from the aftermath.
Giving a satisfied smile, I told him the location I had already marked.
“The cathedral.”
“The cathedral has a wide entrance and is not easy to defend. Do you have other reasons?”
“It is where the altar of Lux Stella resides. If they have not completely abandoned their faith, they will not immediately draw their swords.”
In the end, in a world with gods, the only thing left to rely on is faith. Feeling the surging devotion deep within my heart, I made my resolute decision as a devout believer.
“Amidst the chaos, I will take refuge there and pretend to seek the god’s protection. Sertell, you will mingle among them while concealing your identity, and when the enemy lowers their guard, strike them down in one fell swoop.”
“…”
John’s gaping mouth was probably because he didn’t expect me to be so devout.
