The interior of the temple was even more austere than its exterior. There were only a few chairs and a cracked altar. The place had no incense burners, candlesticks, or silverwork replicating the Great Sacred Seal—items typically used in religious ceremonies. And Nicold Ibuton himself proved even worse than Venetim had imagined.
“No,” replied the high priest. He was scrubbing the floor and didn’t even look up.
“I will not get involved in the election. The pursuit of power goes against my beliefs.” His words were as sharp and harsh as a chisel cutting into stone. “And I will not vote, either, because I do not believe there is a single person within the Temple worthy of becoming the archpriest. Although I will be present at the divine election, the ballot I submit will be blank.”
“But High Priest Ibuton…” Prompted by Xylo’s silent gaze, Venetim decided to try his best. “That is exactly why the Temple needs someone as noble as yourself. You—”
“I told you I wasn’t interested, and nobody is going to convince me otherwise. Especially not a shady individual like you. You reek of deception.”
Venetim was impressed the man could tell such a thing simply from his voice. He hadn’t even looked up.
Even Xylo seemed impressed. “Wow, High Priest Ibuton. You really saw right through this guy.”
He brought his hands together and hunched over the high priest, peering into his face like a thug. The display was extremely disrespectful.
“You’re right,” he said. “That guy’s a con man. He got caught and was sentenced to live out the rest of his days as a penal hero… That said, the Temple really does need someone like you. We have to do something about the Demon Blight.”
“The Temple doesn’t need me. It’s the military. Isn’t that right?” Ibuton’s answer was clear and firm. “But we do need to eradicate the Demon Blight. That much I can agree with.”
“‘Eradicate,’ huh? I like your style.”
“Yes, the only way to save mankind is to eliminate every last one of them.” He cast a sidelong glance at Xylo before returning his attention to his task. “If I were archpriest, perhaps I would implement a policy to actively deploy the Holy Knights. The current archpriest’s strategy of focusing solely on defending human territory is far too reactive.”
“Then why don’t you? Before it’s too late?”
“Because I refuse to pursue a position of authority. And that will not change, Xylo Forbartz.”
“Tsk. I should have stayed behind. You know who I am?”
Xylo stood up, scratching his head furiously. He was a former captain of the Holy Knights. Obviously, any high priest was going to recognize him.
“Former Captain Forbartz, I do not know why you sinned, but it must have been because of what you believed. And I am sure those beliefs have not wavered. Am I correct?”
“It wasn’t anything that grand… And I think I probably made the wrong choice.”
“I might be wrong in my beliefs as well, but I do not plan on changing them.”
Xylo shook his head in resignation and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. But Nicold Ibuton didn’t even spare him a glance.
“We are done here,” said the high priest. “I must purify the temple before worship, and I still have classes to teach to the orphans. After that, I need to organize community efforts to collect trash and clear snow.”
“Hmm…?”
Venetim was somewhat taken aback. Cleaning the temple and teaching at the orphanage were tasks that should have fallen to the congregation, or at the very least to lower-ranking priests. No high priest should be doing such work, especially not all by himself.
“Hey, uh… Couldn’t you ask other priests or disciples to do that stuff?”
“I don’t have any, and that’s why I’m so busy. I do have some volunteers who help out, but my own tasks are numerous—preparing meals, teaching, helping refugees.”
Venetim was even more astonished. It seemed this high priest was single-handedly managing the whole temple. Even if they weren’t officially on the temple’s roster, he’d expected the man to have helpers.
“Does that surprise you?” asked Ibuton.
Unnerved by how easily the high priest seemed to read his thoughts and sensing the man was mad at him, Venetim decided to be honest.
“I just figured a priest would have enough donations to expand this place. Then you could do even more for the community.”
Ibuton wrung out his rag and scoffed at the suggestion. “I give away all the money donated to this temple to nomadic priests working outside the First Capital.”
“You’re not even using it to invest? …You simply give it away?”
“Yes. The priests are free to use it however they see fit. There are countless people in the countryside who need saving. Faith is a fortress of the heart, and the ones who need it most are those people most affected by the Demon Blight.” Ibuton stood and dusted off his backside. He was shorter than expected; maybe even shorter than Venetim. However, when faced head-on, he had an overwhelming presence.
“Ha! This high priest is the real deal.” Xylo smirked. He seemed to be enjoying himself, but Venetim couldn’t understand what was so amusing. He really didn’t get the man’s sense of humor. “How long until you abandon this temple and head out to spread the good word yourself?”
“I wish I could, but I can’t abandon the orphans. I can’t trust anyone else with their education. We’re already short on materials.”
“Ah! Y-yes, exactly,” Venetim chimed in enthusiastically. This could be his chance. “The orphanage must be in a tight spot financially. I know how difficult it is to maintain an institution of this size solely on donations from the public. In fact, you might have to close it or even downsize at this rate.”
Downsizing would mean having to choose which orphans to save, and Venetim was sure that would run counter to Ibuton’s beliefs.
“But if you took control of the Temple,” he continued, “you could reform the system and promote your ideals—”
“It’s only natural for institutions that rely on the goodwill of the people to fall apart when that goodwill dries up.” Ibuton’s response was as cold and hard as steel, leaving no room for negotiation. “I’ve considered reforming the Temple before, of course, but compromising my faith would defeat the whole purpose. Listen, no matter how noble the goal, the means to achieve it must be righteous. What good is something achieved through sacrificing one’s beliefs?”
The way the man spoke—the determination in his voice—reminded Venetim of Norgalle.
“I will never compromise, no matter what I do. For a small compromise is likely to lead into a much larger one. And to me, seeking power for oneself is just such a small compromise.”
“But what about the children?”
“I suppose I am a very selfish person. If it comes to that, I will live outdoors with them. We don’t need a temple to pray. Things like that are merely convenient symbols meant to attract followers.”
Venetim couldn’t fathom this way of thinking. But he also realized he had no chance of changing the high priest’s mind.
“Hey, uh… Xylo? I have a suggestion.” Venetim glanced at his teammate. He was sure they’d exhausted all their options here.
But when Xylo met his gaze, he wore a ferocious glare. “You got something you want to say to me? Giving up already?”
“N-no… Um, excuse me, High Priest Ibuton! H-hypothetically thinking…” Venetim decided to check one last thing before he gave up. “What if another high priest recommended you for the position of archpriest?”
According to the Temple’s rules, one did not have to nominate oneself to be elected. Those put forward as candidates by other high priests could also be chosen.
“In that case, would you still decline?”
“No, I accept the rules of the Temple, and if I was chosen, rather than seeking the office myself, that would mean my faith had chosen me. Though realistically, that would never happen.” Ibuton smirked thinly, then fixed his gaze back on Venetim. “None of those power-hungry high priests would ever recommend me. They…”
At that point, Ibuton paused and narrowed his eyes. But he wasn’t looking at Venetim or Xylo; he was looking at Tatsuya. Venetim instinctively glanced back, but the infantryman wasn’t doing anything unusual. He was just staring vacantly into space, his face devoid of expression. It was as though he couldn’t even see the high priest.
“U-um, is Tatsuya bothering you?”
“No.”
Nicold turned back toward the altar. On the wall behind it was a single symbol of the temple’s faith. It was a painting of a goddess and her followers. Its muted colors and delicate brushwork seemed very suited to the tiny temple.
“High Priest Ibuton…?”
“It’s nothing. Now, leave. I don’t have time to listen to your drivel any longer.”
Things had gone about as poorly as they’d expected, and there was nothing left for them to do. Xylo snorted in annoyance, and Venetim sighed and patted Tatsuya on the shoulder.
They were left with no choice but to resort to Plan B: bribery.