Fidius Verkle left work that day rather late.
A sudden visitor had prolonged his business meeting, and road construction had forced him to take a lengthy detour. The snowfall that had started in the afternoon showed no signs of letting up, and a bone-chilling cold filled the air.
He wouldn’t say he had a bad feeling in his gut, though; Fidius didn’t believe in such things. For him, it was simply an unpleasant day.
However, the night took a sharp turn for the worse the instant he spotted his brother, Venetim Verkle, standing in a snow-filled alley. Fidius signaled his coachman to halt and fixed his gaze on Venetim—hoping, praying that this was merely a specter, proof that his brother had finally perished. But Venetim was, regrettably, very much alive. If there was a ghost here, it was his brother’s companion—a man with unnaturally elongated limbs and a vacant expression. The man stood motionless in the falling snow, an ominous figure whose black, empty eyes seemed to point in Fidius’s direction yet looked straight through him, as if Fidius didn’t exist at all.
“Why, hello, dear brother. It’s been so long.”
Venetim bowed politely, his expression so insincere and audacious that Fidius’s head began to ache. The two of them weren’t close enough for such casual greetings. Fidius had two younger sisters and two younger brothers, all potential successors to Verkle Corp—except for Venetim. After all, he had quickly demonstrated his incompetence, failing every test his father and their other relatives had given him. It seemed he’d never figured out that they weren’t really tests at all, but opportunities.
Venetim was exiled from the family and disappeared shortly thereafter. Fidius had always dismissed him as his foolish younger brother. He knew he made his way in the world as a con man, and that he’d been sentenced to serve as a hero.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that his brother would show up like this on his way home.
He sighed, then said, “I have no idea what’s going on in that brain of yours, Venetim. How dare you show your face in front of me? Get lost! Or would you prefer it if my horse’s hooves turned you into paste?”
“That is no way to speak to your little brother after we’ve been apart for so long.” Venetim’s troubled smile grated on Fidius’s nerves, and Venetim knew why. “Are you still mad? I’m really sorry about the whole Modelis Corporation thing, and I regret—”
“Shut your mouth.” Fidius let out a low growl the instant he heard that name. He wasn’t trying to intimidate his brother; he was simply recalling an unpleasant memory.
Not too long ago, word had spread of a rising challenger to Verkle Corp called Modelis. The company operated as a bank offering secure remote deposits and withdrawals. That wasn’t all it did, however. It was also involved in certain gambling operations that were technically illegal. Nevertheless, the company was growing and even had the Temple’s support.
When Fidius investigated the rumors, his initial findings seemed promising—yet as he dug deeper, Modelis Corporation simply vanished into thin air. By the time he realized the entire company had been a fabrication, the damage was done. His in-depth investigation and the various inquiries from his top subordinates had spooked the investors into dumping their securities, leaving Verkle Corp with massive losses.
But Fidius didn’t believe he’d acted rashly. The investigation had been carried out in total secrecy, and he still had no idea how word had gotten out. But what he did know was that various people had profited from the situation, and that Venetim was at the center of it all.
By the time Fidius had caught up with his brother, he’d vanished once again, leaving behind only rumors of his death. Some were optimistic, claiming he’d been killed in a dispute over the profits. But Fidius found that hard to believe. It wasn’t long after that he was proved right—when his brother was sentenced to serve as a hero. And now…
“I have a business proposal that I believe will be of great interest to you,” said his brother.
Ridiculous. Was there no end to this man’s absurd behavior?
“Too bad. I have no reason to listen to you. You could never offer me anything of value.”
“It’s about the upcoming election for archpriest. I am on a secret mission on behalf of a certain member of the Holy Knights. There is someone we must see elected as archpriest.”
Now he was claiming that the Holy Knights had sent him on a secret mission.
Fidius mulled over this idea, his lips forming the beginnings of a sneer. Was there really a Holy Knight dumb enough to entrust such an important mission to a penal hero? Much less his lying brother?
“I know you’re lying, and even if you were telling the truth, what would it have to do with me?”
“I need you to bribe a few high priests so they’ll nominate High Priest Nicold Ibuton. We only need five people.”
What a corrupt proposal. And Venetim had suggested it with a straight face.
“Absurd. How would that benefit me? Or Verkle Corp, for that matter?”
“Are you asking that because you’re already backing High Priest Mirose?”
“Looks like you’ve done your research.”
“High Priest Ibuton will generate far more revenue than High Priest Mirose. Not only will he increase the Temple’s revenue, but donations will come pouring in from all over, and the higher-ups will cease their lavish expenditures.”
This was true. Fidius was well aware of Nicold Ibuton and his potential to expand the Temple’s influence. One could even argue that his election would benefit all of mankind, since it would also help with the battle against the Demon Blight.
“Furthermore, High Priest Ibuton won’t hoard all the revenue. He’ll donate it to slums, refugees, and rural areas, as well as investing in the Holy Knights. And that is where Verkle Corp will recoup their investment.”
“Makes sense.”
Fidius found himself agreeing, at least in part. He suspected his brother was just making excuses, but his assessment was mostly correct. Fidius’s second sister, Corfinne, had always found this talent of Venetim’s amusing, but Fidius knew their brother was a bad influence. His sister had to be disciplined before she fell into the same bad habits.
And there was one thing Venetim seemed oblivious to.
“But I—or rather, Verkle Corp—will not be investing in Nicold Ibuton. You see, he would benefit mankind too much.”
“And why is that a problem?”
Fidius remained silent. There was no need to explain. What he’d just said was explanation enough. Anyone with half a brain could understand.
If humanity benefited too much, Verkle Corp would lose out. His company needed the war to continue. The Demon Blight was a source of immense profit for them. And so there was only one course of action for them: keep the humans at a slight advantage, while also helping out the Demon Blight.
They’d long kept up a relationship with the coexisters—never getting too close, but keeping them near at hand. It was Verkle Corp that had secretly supplied lightning staffs to their private armies and other collaborators, such as Gwen Mohsa, via sympathetic parties within the military.
They hadn’t yet decided if they would fully align with the coexisters, but they had no desire to oppose them right now. For that reason, Venetim’s proposal was simply unacceptable. They needed High Priest Mirose to become the archpriest. That was what Verkle Corp had determined in their executive meeting, and his father, the head of the whole company, had made the final decision himself. They’d considered supporting Nicold Ibuton as well, of course.
But Mirose will benefit our family business the most. That’s all there is to it.
Fidius recalled an image of his father’s quiet, stern face in profile. He felt as if he’d only ever seen his father from the side. Had he ever met his father’s gaze directly?
But I’m nothing like my incompetent younger brother.
Of that, Fidius was certain. The conviction was not without pain, but the pain was slight, and he could ignore it.
My father values me because I consistently deliver results and prove my worth.
It was no time to get involved with someone like Venetim.
“Now, get out of my way, Venetim. I don’t have any more time to waste on you.”
“In most cases, I would probably agree. But tonight is different.”
“Excuse me?”
Fidius felt a sense of unease. Then, all of a sudden, lightning struck.
There was a dry pop, followed by an explosion. His carriage’s horse reared up, its head shot through. Fidius Verkle, of all people, knew exactly what had happened. Someone had used a lighting staff known as the Yaguruma. It was a new type of sniper weapon with a stabilized automatic ejection mechanism for its magazine.
“What the…?”
But before Fidius could finish his sentence, he was thrown from his carriage. His body was trained to react to danger, and he instinctively rolled and ducked down into the snow. The coachman shouted and raised a lightning staff of his own, only to be shot down from behind. That was when Fidius realized he was surrounded.
“Are you okay? Please keep your head down.” Before Fidius realized it, Venetim had crawled over to his side. “It appears the enemy has arrived, and you’re their target.”
“…What’s going on?”
“They’re coexisters. They probably assumed we were colluding to sell top secret information. I’m guessing it’s because I tried to meet with you in secret like this. I do have a knack for making people suspicious…”
Fidius was speechless. A moment of silence followed, only to be shattered by a bizarre, savage cry.
“Uwoooaaahhh!”
It was the man who’d been standing beside Venetim. He was unusually tall and lanky, and he was holding a long iron rod topped with a battle-ax.
“Don’t worry, Fidius.” Venetim placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tatsuya has our backs, so all you need to do is trust us.”
Fidius brushed Venetim’s hand away, then punched him square in the face.