༺ Backfired Attempt ༻
The serious atmosphere eased as the struggling cleric managed to appease Darius’ mood.
Actually, Darius was also looking for the right opportunity to naturally release his anger.
“You are truly impressive.”
The cleric clicked his tongue in approval as he glanced at Darius and the garrison of Norseweden behind him.
After his defeat against Findenai and the Scrapyard Nomads, Darius had solely devoted himself to training, leaving the Household affairs to Deia.
Perhaps it was because he had already let go of the weight of his position as the Head of the Household, even though not much time had passed.
Due to that, the skills of the soldiers training with him also grew explosively.
“They are…”
The cleric subtly gestured towards a group dressed in tattered clothes in the corner, laughing among themselves.
Despite feeling a drop of sweat run down his nape, Darius nonchalantly responded as if there was nothing special about them.
“They are just slaves who have crossed over from the Clark Republic.”
“A-Are you saying they are immigrants?!”
Startled, he turned his head to look at Darius. On the contrary, Darius looked down at the cleric as if questioning if there was a problem.
“Immigrant slaves know how to handle guns. Occasionally, there are those among the immigrants who bring them along, so we pick them up and train them.”
“I-I see.”
Even though revealing this could have led to an unfavorable response, Darius’ confident reaction might have been the reason why the cleric could do nothing but silently acknowledge it.
“Now, they are quite important assets for us.”
Darius spoke as he looked contentedly at Scrapyard Nomads. Among the reasons why the Norseweden garrison had become so strong, the Scrapyard Nomads were the biggest factor.
With the presence of competition and a worthy opponent, the soldier’s motivation for growth had significantly increased.
“So, what do you want from me?”
Darius, who was watching the soldiers train while carrying some load, subtly asked the cleric.
The cleric clasped his hands as if he had been waiting for this moment and replied.
“It seems that Soul Whisperer is feeling considerable stress while staying in the Kingdom.”
“Ha! That’s not surprising. No matter what he tries to do, that bastard can’t do anything properly.”
The cleric’s smile got even wider observing Darius’ response as he clicked his tongue.
“Also, it seems that there are those who are targeting the Soul Whisperer’s life.”
“…”
This time, Darius just kept his lips shut and stared at the cleric. What kind of answer would the Giant of the North give?
The cleric’s expression quickly stiffened, and he swallowed his saliva.
“Someone like him who has disgraced the Household can’t be allowed to just roam around freely. Even his death is not solely his own to claim.”
The Giant, who quickly straightened his neck, immediately grasped the meaning of the cleric’s words and got straight to the point.
He was just beating around the bush, saying it as vaguely as possible without directly mentioning that their lives were in danger.
Darius replied irritably.
“Just be direct and say that you need my help because that rascal Deus has been a nuisance, and you want to kill him. Isn’t that the case? At this very moment, he’s likely holed up in the Royal Palace under heavy protection.”
“Uh, well, that’s…”
“Why? Are you afraid that the God you serve might be watching?”
Darius scoffed, indicating that the cleric’s behavior was unbelievably ridiculous. He clicked his tongue and folded his arms in disdain.
“I’ll send a letter to Deus, ordering him to return to Norseweden. It won’t be easy for him to ignore my order as the Head of the Household.”
“……!”
“I want to kill him as well, but I don’t want him to die an unnatural death in a place unknown to me.”
He clenched his large fist, filled with hatred and disgust.
“Of course, I have to start preparing for the funeral so we can hold it as soon as his carriage arrives in Norseweden.”
Grasping the implications of Darius’ words—that he would create the opportunity and they should take care of him themselves— the cleric deeply lowered his head.
“We will send condolence flowers and believers to mourn his death. The gods will take care of him.”
“Tsk, such unnecessary words.”
The cleric subtly raised a corner of his mouth, revealing a hint of a smirk. Darius’ resentment towards the Soul Whisperer was evident.
But could it be possible that he was lying?
To be honest, he was convinced that the possibility was extremely low.
‘Which sane Lord of a territory would tolerate someone who just indulged in drugs and debauchery?’
Before visiting Darius, the cleric had gathered information about Soul Whisperer Deus in Norseweden’s downtown.
Trash.
Playboy.
Drug addict, and so on.
He was truly a madman who lived a crazy life without any sense of decency.
The cleric was dumbfounded upon discovering these records, which would have gotten anyone expelled if they had been from any other household.
No, the cleric no longer believed that God had chosen Deus. He was convinced that Deus had obtained Holy Power through some other means.
However, public opinion was already leaning toward him being a saint chosen by God.
With a little more time, people would eventually come to completely accept him as the Soul Whisperer.
‘He has the ability to wield Holy Power. However, if he were unable to do so, we wouldn’t need to resort to killing him.’
Holy Power, which has been wielded exclusively by the Saintess all this time, held absolute and unchangeable authority.
Those who wield it must always remain virtuous.
But what if all the actions of Deus, who also possessed the same ability to wield Holy Power, were to become public?
While it could harm Deus, this revelation could also undermine the absolute nature of Holy Power at the same time.
The situation had reached a point where the Church had taken it upon themselves to deny Holy Power, and Deus’s despicable past had become something actively concealed by the Church instead.
Yet, could they conceal this truth indefinitely?
Because of an existence named Deus, suspicion regarding Holy Power grew. Even so, could they simply sit back and watch?
In the end, there was only one thing they could do.
They had to assassinate Deus.
If they didn’t act now, Deus would end up in a position similar to that of the Saintess, laying down his roots and building a firm foundation like that of an ancient tree.
Therefore, despite the suspicions they were facing due to the assassination missions and the sacrifices they had to make, Deus was an entity that needed to be uprooted immediately.
As long as this person was killed, they could somehow create a story to cover it up.
Of course, there were also people who supported Deus and acknowledged him. They were called the moderate faction, centered around the Saintess.
‘That is just nonsense.’
‘A dark mage who can comfort souls?’
‘Stop with the rubbish talk.’
‘Do you truly believe we’d obediently allow ourselves to be manipulated under your wicked palm?’
This was a trial— a trial given by God to reveal the truth and defeat the devil.
“Dear God.”
The cleric closed his eyes and simply uttered the name of God.
“….”
Crossing his arms, Darius glared at him with narrowed eyes.
* * *
During my stay in Graypond, I was provided with a luxurious office as the Soul Whisperer by the Royal Palace.
In fact, I had stated that there was no need for such a fancy office since I planned to return to the Loberne Academy once the situation was more or less settled.
However, King Orpheus insisted that preparing such a place in advance was important and ended up providing me with this luxurious room.
There were three people who were currently visiting this office.
Saintess Lucia Saint.
My younger sister, Deia Verdi.
Lastly, my maid, Findenai.
Lucia and Findenai sat on the sofa in the room and were listening to my conversation with Deia.
Deia was relaying the information she had received from Darius through yesterday’s correspondence.
“So, a letter from Darius will arrive soon. Let’s prepare for the departure.”
The bishops were planning to assassinate me, but I managed to turn the tables and use their plot to lure out those who sought my demise.
“You should also take the carriage and return back to Norseweden.”
“….But I am a person of Graypond.”
Deia shamelessly replied while folding her arms across her chest and turning her head quickly. It seemed that she really liked Graypond.
“After this incident, we will be completely at odds with the bishops. Of course, they will not be able to directly harm you due to my presence, but there will surely be inconveniences.”
“….”
“There will also be pressure coming down on Norseweden. So, if you are not there, Darius will have a hard time dealing with it by himself.”
“Sigh, is my vacation already over?”
Deia sighed in disappointment, her shoulders slumped, and I unnecessarily added a few more words as I stared at her.
“You are more beautiful as an Amazon of Norseweden than being a maid of honor in Graypond.”
“…It doesn’t make me happy to hear such words from you, okay?”
With that, Deia turned around and left.
“Anyway, I’m going to pack my bags and prepare to head back to Norseweden, so let me get me some souvenirs.”
As I watched Deia’s retreating figure, I involuntarily shook my head. Engaging in such banter somehow made me feel like I was truly dealing with a younger sister.
“Oh, I see.”
Sitting alone on the sofa and staring at the ceiling, Findenai made a remark as if she just understood something.
I wasn’t curious about what rubbish she might spout after that random remark that came out of nowhere.
“So you liked the version of me, who lived in a gruesome place beyond the wilds, known as the Clark Republic, better?”
“Findenai, at this point, it is safe to say you have an illness. A mental illness.”
“Seriously, Master Bastard, you don’t understand anything about humor. It’s called dark humor.”
“Ahem.”
As our conversation seemed to be drifting off-topic, Lucia interjected with a fake cough.
Her facial expression was full of concern.
“I hope you do not get entangled with too many factions.”
I was in a situation where I didn’t know how many hardliners were attempting to assassinate me.
“It seems like we have opposing opinions.”
Opening a book beside me, I calmly replied.
“I hope that as many of God’s envoys as possible aim for my neck.”
* * *
One week later.
A carriage with no distinctive markings departed from the main gate of Graypond.
Having received a letter from Margrave Darius of Norseweden, Soul Whisperer Deus headed to Norseweden under the orders of the Head of the Household he belonged to.
He opted for an ordinary-looking carriage to move as discreetly as possible, and he boarded it with his face covered from outside the Royal Palace.
Due to the carriage’s seemingly low quality, there was a creaking sound, and Deia’s buttocks felt sore.
“Ugh.”
Nonetheless, she was prepared to draw the magic gun at her waist at any moment.
Then, as soon as Graypond disappeared beyond the horizon from the carriage window…
Neeeeeiiighhh!
Bandits suddenly appeared in front of the carriage, causing the coachman to hastily pull on the reins, bringing the carriage to a halt.
However, they were not bandits but were assassins, with their faces covered with masks, blocking the carriage’s path. Each of them gripped cross-shaped daggers and made the sign of the cross.
“Deus Verdi, the wicked Dark Mage. Step outside and face divine punishment.”
The approaching assassins genuinely believed they were doing the right thing and didn’t seem to have any intention of hiding their affiliation with the Church.
Or perhaps they were considering eliminating all the witnesses as well.
Creak.
As the carriage door opened, Deia stepped outside.
“Are you assassins from the Church?”
Perhaps wary of Findenai, a significant number of assassins continued to emerge from among the trees nearby.
Even if they still couldn’t kill Findenai with their current numbers, they believed they could at least tie up her legs and seize the opportunity to assassinate Deus.
“It’s the wicked Dark Mage’s sister. Even though you planned to destroy the Griffin Kingdom, today, divine punishment shall strike you.”
The assassins drew closer with big strides.
The carriage had been completely surrounded. The daggers they held flashed with a cold glow, and the mana emanating from the Mage among them fluctuated.
“Yawn.”
The tension that had been building up was broken by a yawn from a man inside the carriage.
With his robe tightly drawn to cover his face, the man glanced at the assassins and responded.
“Planning to destroy the Griffin Kingdom? That sounds interesting.”
“Huh?”
Recognizing the voice they had heard before, someone among the assassins let out an exclamation.
They had obviously assumed it was Deus Verdi, but upon closer inspection, they noticed the figure had a better physique.
“However…”
Swish.
The man removed his robe, revealing his bright blonde hair.
The assassins, who had come with the righteous intent of killing the Dark Mage according to God’s will, slowly lowered their daggers as if their strength had left them.
“From my perspective, your attempt to assassinate me, the King of Griffin, is far more wicked.”
He was the owner of the nest known as Griffin.
A wise young king who was currently strengthening his absolute authority through an alliance with Deus Verdi.
King Orpheus scoffed while gazing at them, one by one.
“Ah.”
The assassins finally realized that the situation had gone awry.
They were no longer executioners carrying out God’s judgment.
They realized in an instant that they had been framed as conspirators attempting to assassinate the king of the nation.
Orpheus, still grinning, said,
“If you kneel now, there may still be a chance for mercy.”
At the King’s overbearing attitude, the assassins began to exchange glances with each other.
They were not experts hired with money for the purpose of assassinating.
They were simply martyrs who believed in God, wielding swords for the sake of their faith.
Assassinate King Orpheus instead of the Soul Whisperer, Deus?
Even for the clergy, handling the consequences of such an act would be impossible.
After all, they had no such intentions whatsoever.
“W-we absolutely did not have such intentions!”
Once one fell to their knees, the others followed suit, kneeling and bowing repeatedly to the King, seeking forgiveness.
Watching them, King Orpheus smiled contentedly.
“I can understand your loyal heart well. In fact, I was thinking that perhaps the lords who sent you here were the audacious individuals who still believed they had influence over the noble society.”
“……Pardon?”
Noble society?
What was that supposed to mean?
The assassins wore expressions of utter confusion, unable to comprehend what was being said.
“Perhaps they were wicked individuals who dared to challenge Royal authority, exploiting their territories and reaping benefits among themselves.”
A subtle smile appeared on Orpheus’ lips.
Watching the assassins bow repeatedly, seeking forgiveness, felt like admiring a work of art crafted by Deus Verdi.
However, their martyrdom for God would unfortunately be stripped of its purity and distorted, brutally manipulated into a fiercely political agenda
Because Deus had no intention of allowing this incident to be dismissed as a mere assassination attempt on the Soul Whisperer.
The assassination attempt was merely a stepping stone. It was aimed towards greedy nobles and high-ranking officials secretly negotiating with foreign countries.
King Orpheus, who had suddenly become a victim, slyly unleashed his anger, which would extend to nobles across the continent, making them uneasy.
“No need to speak. I know everything.”
It was this very moment that created the grounds to bring down the parasites gnawing at the Kingdom, as the King’s iron fist, filled with fake wrath, was about to unleash.
