To the Altar – Part 01
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Translator: Kell
Interlude: The Dream of a Coward
“Why did you do something so horrible, Orlux?”
The Bishop’s sorrowful face tore at Orlux’s heart.
“How could you point your blade at the innocent and drive them away to a dangerous forest? I told you to learn to be more open-minded, but it seems my words did not reach you.”
“I did it to protect you!” Orlux cried, but the Bishop ignored him.
He claimed that he did it to protect the people, but her compassionate gaze fell now on the foul Dea Ignis, not him.
The pain of having the Bishop taken from him was more unbearable than his crushed knees.
Today they would be leaving for Wenias. He had heard that they would be leaving early in the morning, but seeing that no one had come to pick him up, he wondered if they intended to leave him behind.
I don’t mind that, Orlux thought. Shunned by the Bishop and having lost the ability to fight, he no longer had any worth alive.
Retreat to Wenias, survive, and then what? Instead of thinking about the future, he would much rather feel the love of God while rotting away alone in this abandoned town.
“Captain! Captain Orlux!” His former subordinate appeared. They still called him captain even when he was no longer in active duty. “My apologies for the delay. It took some time to double-check everything. As for our departure to Wenias, it has been postponed until tomorrow. Apparently that human-turned Beastfallen stole a horse this morning.”
Orlux was only half-listening to the man until the last part. He lifted his head. “Stole a horse?”
“Yes. Dea Ignis could not cover for him any longer. There’s a poster in the square that says he will be banished tomorrow morning.”
So he was an evil being who deserved to be banished. Orlux was right. It was the adjudicator who shattered his knees and took away the Bishop who was wrong.
“Anything more?” Orlux urged.
The subordinate’s face brightened. Orlux had lost interest in anything ever since his knees were crushed.
“Tomorrow morning, the dragon will take the Beastfallen to a place from which he will never return. I did some digging, and apparently they’re sending him to the Altar.”
“The Altar?”
“Yes, sir. The poster said that he would be pardoned if he managed to return on his own. It’s essentially a trial by ordeal.”
“Nonsense! The Bishop will not allow it!”
“Apparently, the Beastfallen himself wished for it in front of Her Excellency. Some of the Noble Guards heard it clearly.”
Orlux looked up at the ceiling—and the sky beyond it—and prayed to God. Was it really possible for a guilty man himself to wish for a trial by ordeal? There had to be a catch.
Why go through all the trouble of a trial by ordeal instead of simply executing him?
Orlux racked his brains hard.
Were they going to demonstrate their power to the people by flying the dragon to the Altar? Possible. Was the adjudicator worried that by simply condemning the Beastfallen, he would look bad since he was friends with him? It seemed more likely.
Of course.
Whether the Beastfallen passed or failed the trial, it would be in their favor. The adjudicator would benefit from the results either way.
If the Beastfallen did not return, the people would be at peace, and the distrust they had for the adjudicator would lessen. If the adjudicator demonstrated that he showed no favoritism by condemning his friend too, not just Orlux, it would calm the people’s rage.
Moreover, if the accused himself wished for the trial, no one would think that the adjudicator was being cruel.
Lastly, if the Beastfallen returned safely from the Altar, they would be victorious.
Orlux chewed on his fingernails.
There’s a catch. There has to be.
It was hard to imagine that the adjudicator, after adamantly defending the witch and the Beastallen, would allow a trial by ordeal, which was practically a death sentence, even if the Beastfallen himself wished for it.
Did they have a guarantee that the Beastfallen would come back? Maybe they had a plan so he could return safely.
We have to stop that at all costs.
Orlux would not allow them to deceive the Bishop and the people, to earn their trust.
I knew it. I’m the only one who can protect this town.
It was the pride of the Knights Templar and the Noble Guards to dedicate themselves to the Church and the people, even if they were not wanted by the Bishop.
“Um, Captain?” the subordinate called gingerly.
“Could you do me a favor?” Orlux asked, smiling. “It could be a bit dangerous.”
His usual smile gave the subordinate spirit. “But of course, sir! I’ll do anything, no matter how dangerous it is!” He straightened up, signaling the return of the Noble Guards’ dignity.
It was no exaggeration to say that at this moment, the Noble Guards was reorganized.
Orlux was not broken just yet. But if the enemies found out about it, there was no telling what they would do to break him again.
Orlux put his forefinger to his mouth. “Do everything in complete secrecy. Do not cause any problems, and stay away from that adjudicator especially. Also be aware of the Director. He can’t see inside the warding, but keep visits to a minimum. I can’t leave my room either way. Gather only those you can trust.”
“Understood!”
“I have only one order. Do not let the Beastfallen return from the Altar. I’ll leave it to you to decide how, but you must work under the assumption that he will return. It may all be for nothing, but we must be prepared nevertheless. To protect the powerless from evil.”
“Let’s go over the strategy, Mercenary,” the priest said. “I’m calling you Mercenary, regardless of who’s inside right now.”
The Nameless Demon King nodded. We were still in the prison, but the blood and mud that the demons spread was being slowly blanketed by the snow, making the place just a tad better.
Barcel took the Director back to his tent, then went to Gemma to explain what happened. I couldn’t imagine how the Captain would look at me, but considering how she accepted the Director, she might be able to do the same for me.
Not that I had accepted any of this myself. Of course, I couldn’t do anything about it either.
“It’s not much of a strategy, really. You and Gouda will ride on the back of Heath and infiltrate the Altar on Generos Island. The horde of demons who want to kill the Murky Darkness Witch will distract the demons guarding the Altar. Once you are tossed inside, Heath will leave the warding without landing and return to town. All good?”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t even call that a strategy.” Gouda let out a sigh. His was probably the most dangerous task.
“I told you, you can refuse if you don’t want to do it, Dragon King. This is all on Mercenary anyway. There’s no need for you to go along with his whims. If you want, we can just let him walk across the sea.”
“Who? The hope of mankind? I’m not that heartless. I’ll do it, of course, but you’ll have to excuse a few grumblings. We’re putting Heath’s life in danger here.”
Same old Gouda. Still doesn’t care about his own life.
To be honest, I thought it was a crazy plan as well. If I could speak, I would have agreed with the priest and said, “I’ll walk across the sea alone.”
No one probably noticed that even with the demon controlling my body, my mind was still awake. It felt terribly weird.
I couldn’t move my own body. I couldn’t speak, but I could see and hear. I couldn’t even feel anything to the touch either. It almost felt like I was dreaming.
Maybe this is all just a dream? Maybe the spider guy already killed me.
I wanted to pinch my cheek, but unfortunately I couldn’t move my arms and legs freely right now.
“This is reality,” came an answer. From my own mouth.
Wait, what? Can this Nameless Demon King read my thoughts?
“I am you. You are me. We are but two sides of the same coin.”
Whoa. I couldn’t tell the difference between what I was thinking and what I was actually saying. It felt uncomfortable knowing that my thoughts were being transmitted directly to the demon, including my feelings of discomfort.
There’s no point in struggling, so I may as well ask you this, demon king. When will you return my body?
“When I reach the Altar, I will lose consciousness. You will take care of the rest.”
“Who are you talking to?” The priest looked at me—or rather the demon—dubiously. It probably looked like the demon was muttering to himself.
“Inner voice.”
He meant me. But the priest brushed it aside, thinking he was talking about something profound.
The plan was set in stone without my input. Gouda would carry me with his dragon and toss me into the Altar from above. After that, they head straight back to town. One day should be enough.
If I could find Zero inside the warding and kill the Murky Darkness Witch, the demons prowling about would disappear, making the retreat to Wenias much easier.
If nothing happened, the priest would assume that I had been killed by the witch and start retreating to Wenias anyway.
It was a decent plan. We would get a huge ovation if we succeeded, but if we failed, we would lose nothing.
Once I entered the warding, the Nameless Demon King would once again lose consciousness, leaving only me, Zero, and the Murky Darkness Witch on the island.
Nothing much had changed, except that my chances of reaching the Altar had increased. I couldn’t imagine why this Demon King would want to help me, but I was willing to literally sell my soul to the devil to see Zero again.
“I will go give a final report to Her Excellency,” the priest said. “You leave with the Dragon King tomorrow at sunrise, but if he senses any sign of danger, the plan will be immediately canceled. We can’t afford to lose the dragon.”
“Worry not,” the demon replied. I couldn’t tell whether he was responding to me, or the priest, or maybe both. “Everyone will be safe under my protection.”
The demon’s confident and straightforward answer reminded me of the pompous witch.
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