Chapter 20 - Taking Control (2)

The lord's castle had been in utter turmoil lately. Too many changes had come all at once.

Betra, who had tormented the tribute girls, had vanished, and the Baron kept hiding in his room as though frightened of something. At some point, the treasurer had stopped appearing too.

The knight was behaving strangely as well. Once so talkative, he hardly uttered a word these days. He merely roamed the castle, stiff as a wax figure. He looked like a puppet soldier.

With those who held power so subdued, the servants naturally found room to breathe. No one thundered at them even when they gathered in the kitchen to chat.

The maids turned to the young tribute girl, each adding a comment.

"Rowen, we won't be seeing your face much longer. I'll miss you a little."

"Miss her? We should be celebrating. They're sending her home."

"That's right. Unlike us, Rowen was dragged here. You must miss your parents terribly?"

Rowen beamed.

"Yes. When I get home, I'm going to learn to weave so I can help my mother. I'd like to get married someday too."

"Good. Live your life doing everything you want. Just don't forget us."

"Of course not. You've all been so kind to me. I'll write often."

"One more thing. Be sure to thank the elder master."

Without Yohan, the tribute girls would have been doomed to wither under abuse. Broken beyond repair, they would have squandered the bloom of their youth in red-light districts or brothels. Now their futures had changed. To them, Yohan was nothing short of a savior.

Rowen's expression fell.

"Every time I visit, he says he's busy, so I hardly get a chance. But I do keep praying for him."

She closed her eyes and clasped her hands.

"Saint Marziel, please bless young master Yohan."

As she finished her prayer, a calm voice reached them.

"There's no need to pray for me."

Everyone gathered in the kitchen bowed their heads. Rowen broke into a broad smile.

"Elder master!"

"What's your name?"

"My name is Rowen."

"Well, Rowen. I appreciate the thought, but I'll pass on the prayers. The Great Saint hates me, you see."

"What? But why...?"

"As you know, I'm a half-breed. Your prayers might come back as curses."

Outwardly, Yohan was an illegitimate child of mixed noble and common blood. In truth, he was a half-breed born of a human and a Demon. If prayers directed at him became imbued with holy power, they could blossom into holy chants lethal to Demons.

"N-no! The Great Saint dislikes mixed blood, but only in beings born of Demons and humans. There's absolutely no reason for the Great Saint to hate you."

Yohan shrugged.

"What if I were half Demon and half human?"

Everyone was flustered.

"Y-young master!"

"What if someone hears you!"

Yohan chuckled.

"That joke went too far. Pray for yourself rather than others. That was all I meant to say."

Rowen stepped closer.

"I will. But I'll never forget your kindness for as long as I live. Thank you so much."

Yohan stroked her hair.

"Go home and live happily."

Rowen gave a shy smile and a small bow.

"I'd better be going. I have to bring the Baron his tea."

"I'll take it instead."

"What? But..."

"Don't worry. I was about to visit Father anyway."

With that, Yohan snapped his fingers. The Baron's knight emerged from the shadows, making the maids recoil in surprise.

"Reil, carry it and follow me."

Sir Reil followed Yohan with the teacup in his hand. No one could hide their bewilderment. The knight's gaze, always so sharp, was utterly hollow now.

* * *

Yohan went straight to the Baron's door.

"I'm coming in for a moment."

As he reached to open it, a loud crash came from inside. It sounded like a glass bottle or flowerpot breaking. Frowning, he flung the door open.

The Baron sat awkwardly at the central table.

"Y-you're here?"

He greeted Yohan with a strained smile. Shards of broken glass lay scattered around him.

"My voice seems to have startled you."

Wiping up the spilled liquor, the Baron spoke obsequiously.

"You arrived without warning, ha ha."

"It's only natural for a son to come and pay his respects to his father. Must we stand on ceremony?"

"O-of course. You're quite right. Please feel free to visit whenever you like."

Yohan nodded.

"I will. Today, though, I've come on a particular matter."

The Baron's face tightened with tension.

"Has anything about your stay been unsatisfactory...?"

"A few things, but I dealt with them myself. This is something else."

Relieved, the Baron said,

"Please, go ahead."

"It concerns my uncle. Have you sent word?"

A few days earlier, Yohan had asked the Baron to invite his uncle to the castle. The Baron had clearly been reluctant. Though he had agreed aloud, he had failed to hide his displeasure.

There was a chance he had ignored Yohan's order. If so, he would need to be punished.

The Baron looked uncomfortable.

"Of course. I've received a reply as well."

Yohan had expected him to rebel at least once, but the Baron was unexpectedly compliant. It came as a surprise.

"What did he say?"

"He says he'll visit with the pilgrimage party. Obviously, he means to hide behind the Church's backside."

Early in the original novel, there had been an episode in which the Church's pilgrimage party passed through Miyatro territory. They were traveling the continent to recover pieces of the Great Saint's corpse, and their route overlapped with the Miyatro demesne. It seemed Kril intended to time his visit to theirs.

'Just as thorough as he was in the original.'

Traveling with the Church made one untouchable. Even the king could not lay a finger on anyone accompanying them.

Noble custom already forbade harming a guest invited into one's home. But with Kril accompanying the Church, that custom went beyond common decency and became an inviolable unwritten law. Assassination was absolutely out of the question.

The Baron stole a glance at Yohan's expression.

"... May I say something?"

Yohan nodded.

"To avoid another setback like this, I think you should consult me when making plans from now on. The matter of the tribute girls, the treasurer's dismissal, all without a single word to me..."

Yohan silenced him with a gesture.

"You need a little schooling after all."

Then he looked toward the door.

"Reil, come in."

The blond knight entered.

"The Baron doesn't know his place. You'll have to teach him."

The knight's unfocused eyes turned toward the Baron. There was no trace of emotion in that empty gaze. Like a machine with no mind of its own, Reil walked stiffly toward him.

"R-Reil...?"

The Baron stared at his knight in disbelief. But Reil was no longer his sword. He was merely a scarecrow whose soul had been stolen by a Demon.

CRACK!

A rock-hard fist slammed into his fleshy face.

"Gaaagh!"

Blood spurted from his nose like a fountain. The Baron toppled backward.

The violence did not end there. Reil began ruthlessly trampling the fallen Baron. Agonized screams filled the room.

By the time the white carpet was stained crimson, the kicking stopped. Yohan approached the groaning Baron.

"... P-please spare me."

Parts of the Baron's body had been mashed like spoiled tofu. Yohan crouched and stared at him.

"Listen carefully, Grian. I do not consult you. Nor do I need your advice. You are nothing but a scarecrow. Remember, the only reason I haven't harvested your soul is my own whim. Abandon your thoughts and your will. Live like a puppet. Do you understand?"

If not for Raguel, the Baron would have shared Reil's fate: a test subject for the power of Soul Slaying. He had no right to stand as Yohan's equal.

The Baron nodded convulsively.

"I-I understand. Just spare my life. I won't overstep again!"

Yohan's lips curled in satisfaction.

"I'll believe you this once."

Then he smiled gently.

"But Father, why are you speaking so formally? Please treat me casually during the day from now on. We can't keep being so awkward with each other when we're father and son, can we?"

The Baron stared at Yohan, appalled.

"Answer me."

The Baron lowered his head.

"... I will, son."

* * *

Time flew by. In late autumn, as the fall foliage reached its peak, the pilgrimage party arrived in the Miyatro demesne.

A holy army of priests, holy knights, sacred soldiers, and monks. The pure-white host wound through the crimson leaves in an unbroken procession.

Its vanguard had just passed through the castle gates. One by one, clerics in vestments dotted the lord's vast courtyard.

"My, you must be weary after such a long journey. Our accommodations are humble, but you are most welcome. It is an honor to offer even a little assistance on your sacred journey."

A white-haired priest addressed the bowing Baron.

"You have our gratitude for your hospitality, my lord. May the Great Saint's blessing rest upon House Miyatro."

As he finished, the priests and holy knights under him traced the holy sign of the pentagram. Everyone on the Miyatro side, including the Baron and Yohan, returned the sign.

"Hospitality? You give us too much credit. It is our duty to aid the pilgrimage."

The white-haired priest smiled kindly and stepped forward.

"Such devotion befits the illustrious house that watches over the Abyss. I am Hilles, archbishop of the Holy See and leader of this pilgrimage. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Yohan looked him up and down.

'Archbishop Hilles.'

He was not important enough to shape the course of the story. There was someone else who warranted more caution than Hilles.

A solitary figure in red amid the sea of white. The girl whose hair was a deeper red than the autumn leaves was the most dangerous person in this procession. At least to Yohan.

'Shaperia.'

She was the Great Saint's sword and humanity's shield. Shaperia would not cease passing judgment until that red hair was stained with the black blood of Demons. To Demons, she would be terror itself.

For now, she was merely a novice. He would have to trample her before she could sprout. Perhaps she needed to be dealt with even before his uncle.

She had been staring steadily at the Miyatro party for some time.

"Grian von Miyatro, at your service, Archbishop Hilles. I have heard much of your renown. It is an honor to meet you."

As the Baron finished introducing himself, Shaperia began walking slowly toward them. When she stepped ahead of the archbishop, the priests rebuked her.

"Shaperia, mind your manners!"

"Return to your place at once!"

Shaperia did not stop. Instead, the archbishop restrained the priests.

"No, a moment. All of you, wait."

Shaperia's eyes could pierce through malice. No disguise or camouflage could conceal one's true nature from her. She was the very nemesis of apostates and Demons. Having sensed malice, the adjudicator slowly drew her sword.

Her gaze met Yohan's.

'That sends a chill down my spine.'

Shaperia's eyes blazed with hostility. Had she discovered his black blood? As he tensed, the adjudicator abruptly stopped.

She spoke.

"You're wearing a human guise. What have you hidden behind that beautiful mask?"

Shaperia's sword was pointed at Ilea. The adjudicator and the witch stared at each other. Yohan's lips curled with interest.