#057. This Church Sister is Too Kind (1)

#057. This Church Sister is Too Kind (1)

Iveta’s report sent the Order into an uproar.

“Our symbiotic relationship with the Noble Faction has indeed granted our Order considerable benefits. However, that connection must not extend to condoning unjust human experimentation.”

“Where does it say we can only take without giving? Our Lord did not teach us such a thing!”

“Are you then suggesting that our Lord *did* teach us to condone human experimentation?”

“When did I say *that*!”

“Your words implied nothing less, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sever ties with the Noble Faction.

How could they so readily become strangers?

The Order descended into chaos, split between the Anti-Noble and Noble factions.

The scale of each faction was almost evenly matched.

The Inquisition Bureau, the Doctrine Interpretation Institute, and the Sacred Research Laboratory belonged to the faction advocating separation.

The Healing Division, the Holy Knight Division, and the Treasury Department belonged to the faction advocating maintaining ties.

The reason was simple.

The former were organizations that didn’t accept the Noble Faction’s money and acted according to their own convictions.

The latter were organizations that took the Noble Faction’s money, followed their will, and lived comfortably.

“Even if our Doctrine Interpretation Institute is but a hollow organization of the Order’s elders, we have lived long lives and seen much. This is by no means the first time we have witnessed the Noble Faction’s corrupt practices.”

“Why are you making such a fuss *now*? Are you so bitter to see your juniors living comfortably by joining forces with the Noble Faction?”

“Yes. I am deeply embittered.”

“?!”

The Doctrine Interpretation Institute’s support was formidable.

“We fearlessly engaged in political strife with the nobles, successfully establishing our Order as the state religion. In exchange for accepting their children into the Order, we institutionalized the exemption of our Order’s believers from public labor and military service. We ruthlessly exploited each other’s weaknesses to gain advantages.”

“…!”

“Look at you all. Having lost all the wisdom and fighting spirit of our era, you wag your tails and obey like dogs blinded by the money given by your masters.”

The Order’s elders did not deny desire.

They merely condemned the *methods* of fulfilling it.

The younger generation’s pride was wounded.

However, their subsequent attitude differed from that of ordinary folk.

The moment the truth stung, they acknowledged it.

“If there is a way to secure a greater share, discard the scraps you’ve been given and dare to bite the hand that feeds you. The Order is not the dog of the nobles.”

“How did you confront them, seniors?”

“The stronger the nobles, the weaker the king’s power. There may be times when it is right to say that religion encroaches upon the king’s authority, but at least in this era, a powerless king desperately needs our help, and the dormant power of the king is the very weapon with which to oppose the nobles.”

Join hands with the King and strike down the Nobles.

Human experimentation was a powerful weapon that the King would welcome with open arms.

As long as the Order had the King’s backing, the Nobles could not ignore the King.

Caution became paramount, even in speech.

The Order, too, found itself with a weapon, leveraging the King to antagonize nobles, thus amplifying their voice in matters of state.

“If they dare wield their influence in this arena, we shall meet them with righteous cause, crushing them to dust. Remember that the elder Inquisitors in Sodom are privy to the King’s judgment on these matters.”

The Director of the Inquisition puffed out his chest with pride.

It was only natural, then, that Maria, the new Inquisitor of Sodom, alongside Ivetta, caught the Director’s eye, setting her on a path toward advancement.

“Let us move on to the next matter. The allegations of heresy in Sodom seem unfounded. I would like the Inquisition to issue a recall order for Inquisitor Ivetta.”

“So be it.”

“Furthermore, if even half of what young Ian has displayed is true, we must act swiftly to secure him before other orders snatch him away.”

“…Your words carry an ominous weight. Surely, you don’t mean…?”

“Whatever you suspect, our request is wholly justified. We request the dispatch of the Saintess to escort the Saint candidate back to the Order’s headquarters, designating the Saintess as his guide.”

The noble faction, having yielded on other points to the anti-noble faction, bristled at the demand to hand over the Saintess, virtually the leader of the Healing Division.

“If you desire it so greatly, we shall concede. But know that the Order possesses two Saintesses, and only one currently has an opening in her schedule.”

The Healing Division gritted their teeth and relinquished a Saintess.

Not the typically cheerful and vivacious type, but one closer to a wild colt – possessing only the stigmata and her nascent powers, and a temperament to match.

Naturally, upon hearing the news of her mission, the Saintess made a firm resolve.

“Old man, I don’t care about the Saint or whatever he is, if I don’t like him, I’ll smash everything up again and come back!”

“As you wish.”

The Head Priest of the Healing Division beamed, sending forth his unruly, volatile Saintess.

* * *

The Inquisition’s response to Ivetta was swiftly relayed to Maria.

Maria found herself uneasy about leaving Ian.

‘Senior really should have kept her mouth shut.’

What if Ian were to take an interest in another woman?

She couldn’t know.

Tales abounded of hearts growing distant with separation.

Common were the stories of soldiers returning from mandatory military service, only to find their lovers or spouses in the arms of another.

Even if Ian was indeed a Saint of great virtue, that very quality would attract many women, who would not hesitate to pursue him despite his young age.

“I must depart from the Guild for a time, to appear as a witness in a trial.”

“Take care of yourself, Maria.”

“Ian… that is…”

“Yes?”

“It may be a rather long journey. May I request a special farewell, for my return?”

“Will you give me your hand?”

Maria, striving for composure, offered her hand.

Ian placed a charm within it.

Maria, secretly hoping for a goodbye kiss, suppressed her disappointment and bowed in farewell.

She made her way to the large carriage, where Ivetta, a rabbit beastkin to serve as a witness, and Pinky awaited, along with several familiar, yet unexpected faces.

“Why is the Theresa Clan here?”

“Ian requested it. He said that if he were a noble, he would definitely attack you on the way to the capital, so he asked them to protect you.”

“…!”

Maria felt a growing sense of shame.

She, consumed by selfish desires, had been expecting a goodbye kiss, while Ian, worried about her, was ensuring the safety of her entire clan.

She, the adult, was acting like a child, and Ian, the child, was behaving like an adult.

“That charm, Ian spent all night making it. He apparently used runes he learned from Ronove, the mage. It’s bound to have some effect. Keep it safe.”

And she had regretted that elaborately made charm wasn’t as good as a goodbye kiss.

Truly, she was ashamed.

Theresa, as if understanding her feelings perfectly, patted her shoulder in comfort.

* * *

The Sodom Guild, the Guildmaster’s office.

As Ian watched everyone depart, the Guildmaster of Sodom asked,

“You didn’t have to go with them, did you?”

“This time, the nobles will target convoys heading to the capital, not just the village. It’s better if Anna and I aren’t there.”

Ian’s straightforward answer even made the Sodom Guildmaster feel a little bitter.

He felt pity for the child who had become an adult too early, at an age when he should be indulging in childish things.

“The road to the capital is long. It will be a while before we meet again.”

“I’m prepared for it to take up to half a year, accounting for the length of the trial.”

“Hoo. Half a year, you say. I’ll have to worry about whether the guild will still be standing by the time you return.”

The Guildmaster was right.

Crises were constantly befalling the Sodom Guild.

‘If the Imperial Trial route is established now, then what happens next is…’

Unknown.

But if the conditions were changed, he could guess.

If the raid on Ronove, the Chapter 3 boss, began, and Pinky, the mid-boss, was defeated, what would happen next?

Ronove’s strengthened machinations.

Quests would appear, sending adventurers to their deaths.

Naturally, they would come with rewards too attractive to ignore.

“Guildmaster, a major quest!”

The receptionist senior, forgetting to knock, burst into the room.

The ominous premonition quickly became reality.

“Traces of a *Maine* have been discovered in a ruined village, you say?”

A priest, clad in a thick robe, a cross hanging around his neck, but worshipping a different god than Maria’s ‘Order.’

A priest of the Order of Death, which revered the god of death, had brought a major quest that reeked of money.

“The crosses of our Order of Death can detect residual mana from the corpses of Maines. An energy only detectable in humans, different from that of monsters.”

“How exactly can we assist you?”

“With many villages destroyed, warehouses burned down, and closed, there are many people in the outskirts of Eastwood, who lost their home or their activity area. Create refugee camps to accommodate them and detect, capture Maines, and find the Maine’s base mixed within them.”

They would have to encounter a great number of people.

Adventurers would much rather hunt monsters. Quests requiring this kind of interaction with people were generally something they loathed.

Those who used their bodies respected each other for their skills, but the refugees, not being involved in the industry, wouldn’t view adventurers in a favorable light.

“We understand the Order of Death’s noble intention to combine civilian support with the detection of Maines. What amount of reward are you considering?”

“As you know, the Order of Death has few members. In exchange for a stay of death, we must be intertwined with death to gain faith and wield power, which is why people are wary of us. Therefore, we replace our lack of manpower with the wealth we have accumulated over many years.”

The Priest of the Death Cult wrote down a commission fee, the highest ever, enough to summon every adventurer in the guild and then some.

“Therefore, I am willing to pay a commission of this magnitude. Will Sodom Guild accept this request?”

Even for him, it seemed too good to pass up; the Sodom Guildmaster’s face was alight with enthusiasm.

“Ian. I’m taking this, no matter what you say.”

“You knew I felt uneasy about this commission.”

“You’d be anxious. There’s no such thing as a high-paying commission without a reason. But the Death Cult has always been generous. Besides, considering it involves a demon, it’s understandable.”

“Mom and Maria aren’t here at the guild. If something goes wrong, we might not be able to handle it like we used to.”

“If we complete this commission, your mother and your girlfriend can finally rest.”

“…”

“Do you know how helpless I felt watching you work yourselves to the bone for dozens of people, going to absurd lengths to avoid paying penalty fees?”

The Sodom Guildmaster accepted the commission, invoking his authority.

A general mobilization order was issued to the Sodom Guild.

“Group commission. From now on, we’re protecting the refugee camp and rooting out demons.”

The Guildmaster had made his public declaration.

There was no turning back now.

Somehow, I had to use my player experience and the abilities of a wicked mind manipulator to gather information, see through the plot, and defeat it.

That’s the grim resolve I held as I headed towards the refugee camp…

Only to find a carriage arriving, many times more luxurious than Maria’s, the one that had taken her to the capital.

*BANG!*

Bursting from the carriage was a saintess, clad in a pious nun’s habit but with mischievous eyes that belied it.

“Which one of you is the scrub Saint Ian? Doing volunteer work at a refugee camp – actually rather commendable! I like that better than those saint candidates who are just the children of high-ranking priests in some backwater region. Hehe. Consider it an honor, you scrubs, because I, Saint Cecilia of the Radiant Order, am here to help you all!”

Into the refugee camp, thick with Ronove’s scheming, a *mesugaki* Saintess appeared, there to awaken the scrubs by berating them.