That afternoon, priests and bishops from the Faith chatted amicably with one another, relaxing in a guest room in the palace of Hanche. Among them was Avare, the bishop of the now-destroyed Cerveau Cathedral in the Tête Kingdom. After suffering unjust, awful treatment at the hands of the Mercures and the Faith’s Holy Father, he’d narrowly managed to escape from Tête alive, and through great struggle, he had finally made it here. It had been a difficult journey, one in which he’d had to forgo his favorite thing in the world: luxury.
But now, he was able to enjoy a lively conversation with the bishop sitting next to him, a glass of fancy wine in hand. “Hanche may be cut off from the continent, but it is a nice place.”
In fact, the little island’s isolation from the mainland might be a good thing: The terrifying Countess of Mercure and the former Holy Father, who understand neither common sense nor logic, would never find him here. It was a complete safe zone.
The bishop nodded. “Indeed. The food is beyond reproach as well. Besides, most people here are fervent followers of the Faith. They have received us with the hospitality we deserve.”
“Of course! We treat our guests well here in Hanche.”
This proclamation stemmed from Niesen, a minister of the kingdom. He has always been very accommodating to the clergymen in Hanche and, as such, had proven to be very helpful to Avare and the others.
“We have prepared an array of our staple dishes for you to sample, all made with the best ingredients our nation has to offer,” Niesen added, gesturing toward a nearby table, which was laden with extravagant snacks and liquors.
It, of course, included an entire durian—Hanche’s specialty.
Ugh... That damn fruit brings me bad memories. I don’t even want to look at it.
Other than that, everything else seemed wonderful.
The room was filled with bishops and priests from the mainland who had been chased out of their cathedrals by the mad Holy Father. They had chosen Hanche as their base to plot the revival of the Motar Faith.
The Holy Father and the cardinals have disappeared and so have the saints and holy knights. The Faith doesn’t have nearly as much power as it used to.
Avare huffed out through his nose. The Faith had to regain its former influence, no matter what. That religion was the only reason he and the other bishops had been able to shine.
“This land is called the ‘Motar Faith’s second base of operations,’ after all. It is the perfect place to plan its revival. We ought to achieve our goal!” Avare declared.
Together, he and his companions renewed their resolve to bring back the Faith.
“This time, however, we will not have saints or holy knights or whatnot within our ranks. Mana wielders are forbidden from joining the Faith. They have caused us enough trouble. As for the title of Holy Father, I believe that I am the best suited for the posi—”
“No, I am.”
“No! It’s me!”
“As for me, I want to be a cardinal.”
All the Faith’s members who’d made the journey to Hanche were covetous men who wanted two things: power and status. The second Avare had mentioned the position he sought, they had all started arguing, and things quickly got out of hand. However, this infighting was wasting their time.
“Well, well, it won’t be too late to decide on those things once we’ve revived the Faith,” Avare said, temporarily glossing over the matter.
Throwing a smoke screen had always been his specialty.
“Oh, by the way, I just remembered that a hunting tournament is being held here in the near future, is it not?” he added, swiftly switching the topic.
The event he’d mentioned was only for the sake of entertaining the kingdom’s guests. Of course, being a guest, Avare was awaiting that day with anticipation, and so were the other members of the Faith.
Hanche had a strong hunting culture, and physical prowess was held in high regard. The hunting tournament, which was hosted twice a year, was the perfect occasion for the knights to display their strength and for the kingdom’s top brass to show just how powerful their chivalric orders were. It also helped them assess the abilities of the newest recruits. The mightiest of the bunch would be given opportunities for a promotion.
Avare and the others had been invited and would be participating in the hunting tournament with everyone else. As for the knights, they had received orders to prioritize the safety and well-being of the Faith’s members and to put efforts into protecting and entertaining them over showing off their prowess.
Niesen nodded at Avare’s words, a self-satisfied look taking over his face. “We shall provide you with bows and arrows as well as horses. Of course, we’ll also have a fully furnished resting area.”
The former members of the Faith had never hunted a day in their lives, though. It was highly unlikely they’d manage to catch a single quarry. Avare assumed the kingdom would arrange some sort of opportunity for them.
One of the bishops took something out of his pocket, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. “I do not need a bow and arrow. I intend to use this.”
The item in the bishop’s hand was mostly cylindrical, but it was not something Avare had never seen before. When the bishop pulled on it, it revealed a serpentine sword.
“What is that...?” Niesen asked, eyeing the blade in confusion.
“It’s a weapon prototype that one of the cardinals was working on. I took it from the main church’s vault. I believe that it is extremely powerful,” the bishop explained.
“It does not look like a weapon,” Niesen pointed out. “How do you use it?”
“I’ll reveal its true power on the big day. It’s a creepy thing with magic embedded in it, but fret not; I won’t be using it.”
“Then you don’t need to bring it to the tournament,” a young priest said.
The bishop’s lips curled into a smirk. “The saints and holy knights were mana wielders, but I’m a normal person. So I won’t use it—but I’ll make someone else do it. I’ll hire a bunch of mana wielders and make them use this ominous weapon. They’re just as creepy, so I assume they’ll have a good affinity for it. If any of you want to try it, I shall lend it to you—mana wielder and all.”
“I see.”
Avare wholeheartedly agreed with that bishop: Mana wielders were terrifying creatures, especially those pesky Mercures. He hoped he would never have to get involved with their kind again.
Never again. I’ve had more than enough of mana wielders with the Mercures!
What Avare didn’t realize was that the very Mercures he dreaded had been eavesdropping on their conversation from the other side of the door the entire time.