“Does it matter?” Luida asked. “The plot itself wasn’t a bad idea.”
“Ha...” Myalo laughed mockingly at her. I’d never seen her laugh like that before. “Let me just say that the plot was pure foolishness. Let’s not forget that you’re dealing with the Papal State.”
She must’ve gleaned that from Lyrica Kuklillison’s reports. I’d made the same conclusion. The attempts to assemble crusade forces at the end of last year and during this year had started within the Papal State. Although the Tyrelme Holy Empire was also passionate about crusades, they hadn’t been actively encouraging a new crusade. It was easy to conclude that the Papal State was at the center of the conspiracy.
Myalo continued, “There was no chance of them honoring their promise. I can tell you that for certain. The Papal State army we fought in the previous war cut up the bodies of our soldiers who’d died on the battlefield, then hanged them. The full list of atrocities they committed in the vicinity of Reforme is endless. If you’d witnessed the war in Kilhina, you never would have even considered such a deal.
“The Kulati don’t even consider our people human. It’s true of all Kulati, but the people of the Papal State despise us the most. Who would think twice before breaking a promise with a wild beast?
“If the Papal State’s broken promises came to light, their reputation among the Kulati wouldn’t be harmed—in fact, they’d be praised for betraying you. I don’t know exactly what your agreement was, but the probability of them sticking to it has always been zero. You failed to realize any of this and celebrated your doomed deal regardless. That level of incompetence is truly exceptional, and it will forever be a stain on the last chapter of witch history. We’re talking about people willing to tear apart this kingdom’s children, and yet you—”
“Myalo.” I cut her off.
“Oh... I’m sorry for getting carried away.”
“I’m sure you have a lot to say, but they’re going to die soon. Your words are wasted on them.”
Although Myalo’s feelings toward witches were complicated, there was no point in speaking her mind now. It no longer mattered.
“You’re right...” she muttered.
“We’ve talked enough. Go on and hold your vote.”
Vivila Marmoset merely glared at me.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you leading the meeting? Get on with it,” I urged. I couldn’t stand the way she was reluctant to cooperate at every step. I hated dealing with her.
“Let’s hold a vote in accordance with sabbath rules,” Vivila said. “Those who would accept Yuri Ho’s offer and provide him with documents related to our negotiations.”
Four hands went up: Sharun Charleville’s, Ghulah Temper’s, Kiki Enfillet’s, and Luida Gudinveil’s.
“We have a majority. The matter’s settled.”
Three of them hadn’t raised their hands. We hadn’t even heard Jula’s objections, even though everyone else had gotten a chance to speak—not that her opinion mattered.
“The documents are in the safe house on the third floor of my home,” Sharun Charleville told me. “Ordinarily, we’d keep things in this house, but the Gudinveils were kept out of it. The bookshelf with a ‘7’ written on it is a secret door to our safe house. Examine the contents carefully, and you’ll find a lever. Pulling it will open a latch that causes the whole thing to swing open.”
They’d taken thorough precautions as always.
“All right. I’ll look for it later.”
I believed what she’d told me. If she was lying, I’d just have to kill every witch instead.
“Now, how do you intend to kill us? Will you tear us apart with your own hands?” Vivila Marmoset asked.
I’d made my decision already. “There’s no better way to execute a witch than burning them at the stake. I’m going to burn you along with this house.”
I studied their faces as I spoke. Some tensed up, others remained calm, and some reacted with fear. The most extreme reaction came from Jula, but to my surprise, Vivila Marmoset appeared afraid too.
“What’s wrong, Vivila? What’s got you so scared?” I asked.
“Is there something wrong with me being afraid?”
Yeah, something very wrong.
“Isn’t the Marmoset family famous for their torture? I’m sure you’ve sentenced others to deaths far more painful than burning at the stake. And I’ve seen the victims you’ve set free after you’re done with them—destined to eke out a miserable existence in the royal capital to serve as a warning to others. Each one has the same brand burned into their forehead. It’s no laughing matter.
“I would’ve loved to gather them and let them do whatever they pleased with you. It would’ve been quite fitting if they’d torn out your tongue, extracted your fingernails, cut you, cauterized your wounds with fire, and prolonged your suffering up until death. Unfortunately, there’s not enough time, so I’m burning you at the stake. You should be crying tears of joy and thanking me.”
The Marmosets were particularly notorious, but there were instances of the other families doing similar things. Even if they hadn’t murdered members of my family, I’d still want to see these witches dead.
The second worst after the Marmosets were the Charlevilles. They had a tradition of executing people by drowning them in the royal capital’s river. They weighed the victims down in such a way that the gas generated by the bloated corpses would make them float back up. They’d put considerable research into their methods and found a way to ensure that when they killed whole families, the men, women, and children would all surface on the exact same day. When victims emerged as a group, it was clear that they’d been punished by the Charlevilles.
It was astounding that these witches felt entitled to talk about the value of their own family members’ lives after all they’d done to others. It gave me a vague sense that even a cold-blooded killer could have another side to them.
“Youngster,” Luida Gudinveil interrupted.
“What? Got a problem, you old hag?”
I knew she’d done plenty of wicked things herself, but I didn’t want to kill her in front of Myalo.
“No, I don’t have any complaints. But if you’re going to burn down the house, at least get your soldiers to empty out the other room first.”
That sounded like a ridiculous demand. It was as though she was telling me to take the valuables for myself.
“Why?”
“It’s full of treasures from the days of the empire. It might look like unremarkable junk to the uneducated, but every piece had some important role to play in our history. You don’t have the right to burn it all. That collection doesn’t even belong to us—the course of history merely placed it in our keeping for the time being.”