30 Years after Reincarnation, it turns out to be a Romance Fantasy Novel

Chapter 193

In Pendragon, the concept of a "weekend" exists.

While in other countries only the nobility might enjoy vacations or holidays, the citizens of Pendragon are accustomed to having a weekend every seven days. This wasn't necessarily because Pendragon's leadership wanted to bestow any special kindness upon its people.

"Today, I am grateful for the many brothers and sisters who have joined us. May everyone be blessed with the Light of Glory."

[Blessed be.]

This practice was merely a result of the temple's strong advocacy.

Prayer meetings, or masses, as they are sometimes called, were events that the citizens of Pendragon were required to attend. Can you believe that even the farmers, who should have been busy with the harvest, were obligated to attend these over three-hour-long gatherings every weekend? This might suggest that the people's faith was genuine.

Thus, the weekend effectively became 'Go to Temple Day!' for many families, and this was not considered unusual.

Over 80% of the nation's populace followed the religion of the Light of Glory, and missing a temple gathering could lead to social ostracism.

"Merciful Light of Glory, please let this year's crops prosper."

"Please, no droughts—I beg you. My son has just entered the academy!"

"Please keep my family healthy and let me meet a beautiful bride."

"I need money! Please let me have good luck in this game!!"

Farmers, merchants, mercenaries, gamblers—people from all walks of life devoutly clasped their hands and prayed. This alone illustrated the attitude of the citizens towards religion.

And with such overflowing faith,

"Please accept this, priest. It’s beer made from the first barley harvested this year." "Could you please hold my child’s hand? I hope he can grow up to be a fine person like you." "Father, there’s someone here desiring to confess. Would that be alright?"

The authority held by priests was immense.

People overflowed with respect and admiration for them, and a little child, holding tightly to his mother's hand, said with stars in his eyes, "Mom! I want to be respected like the priest when I grow up!" "Yes, my son. If anyone can do it, you can. I'll be here cheering for you." "Yes!!"

The child looked up to the priest with eyes full of admiration, and the priest, seeing such a gaze, smiled kindly.

It was a display of the priests' power, comparable to that of nobility, and even nobles could not afford to treat them lightly.

...It should be the case.

Crunch!

"So, which faction are you from?"

"!!!?"

"Are you going to talk? Why aren't you opening your mouth?"

Crackle!

"!!!"

"Stubborn one, aren’t you? Why won’t you speak?"

The knight interrogated the priest, but no answer came, and he clicked his tongue. The priest was notably tight-lipped.

Perhaps just an hour more...

"—Instructor, maybe removing the gag first would allow him to respond or anything really."

"……."

"Instructor?"

"Ssh, tough guy, this one. Why isn’t he answering...?"

"…Ah."

...It turns out he was just set on tormenting him.

The boy remained silent. Interjecting could make things worse.

‘Might get a roar.’

Derek, seeing a table blown away by such a roar, carefully hid his presence.

He didn't want to end up like that table.

*****

“So, you’re saying the temple is really turning into a battleground?”

“That’s accurate, but you put it very bluntly.”

“And on top of that, your masters are calling you to join the fray.”

“I have no masters…”

“Come on, you wag your tail and run every time they call, don’t you? Despite how much they beat you. Poor old Raphael really has it tough.”

"……."

"What? Are you upset? Well, sorry, but the truth does hurt."

"Perhaps don’t apologize then. It just makes me angrier…"

"Isn’t that why I apologize?"

"!!?"

For the first time, a crack appeared in Pierre's composure, and his eyes visibly reddened with anger.

However, Ihan merely scoffed and ignored him, turning instead to look at two figures sprawled on the floor.

Thud, thump...

One was an intern, bleeding so profusely he might stop breathing at any moment; the other was a man kicked by Ihan for speaking ill under the guise of conversion.

Fortunately, the priest had received some divine healing for his injuries, but now he was just cowering, not daring to meet Ihan's gaze.

He hadn't been like that initially.

As soon as he came to.

• You blasphemous fiend! How dare you do such things! I will see that you are punished!!

Enraged as if suffering from a disorder, Ihan began his treatment. Handling such cases was his specialty.

After about 30 minutes of treatment...

• I... I apologize... please, just spare my life...

He finally learned some manners, and Ihan was convinced once again that anger management issues could be treated. However, since it was a relapsable condition, he continued the treatment for another three hours, after which the man could no longer even make eye contact.

Just...

“-----.”

The quivering figure on his knees, weeping tears, made for a scene that an outsider might interpret as a powerful figure tormenting a weak and defenseless priest. But Ihan, having heard the entire sordid backstory of this man’s life during the treatment process, could only snicker in derision.

“A moneylending priest... So, priests these days just bleed the common folk dry, forcing them into debt or trapping them in circumstances where they have no choice but to borrow? And this is what counts as a priest?"

Astounding...! The fact that a priest was involved in usury was shocking enough, but that the real purpose of this money was to fill the pockets of high-ranking clergy took the cake. And sending this degenerate to swindle a fledgling like Irene Windler was the icing on a very rotten cake.

Did the temple faction this usurer belonged to actually want to start a war with Galahad?

‘Can’t understand these madmen…’

Ihan had given up trying to understand. Whether it was the man who brazenly tried to manipulate Galahad’s ward or those who had given him his orders,

‘...There’s no sanity there, none at all.’

*****

To put it simply, I heard the temple has been recently embroiled in intense factional strife. If you combine all the large and small factions, about seventeen are currently engaged in a deadly power struggle.

The reason for the fight?

Well, there are various reasons. Disagreements over interpretations of divine words, debates that turn heated, and recently, the ascendance of Isis, who has been overshadowing the temple’s prominence, has been a particular thorn in their side.

There's a standing agreement with the current royal family, but there’s talk that if Isis ascends to the throne, she might break this pact with the temple.

...That’s the superficial reason for the faction splits, but at the heart of it all is,

“So, it’s all about a fight for the position of the High Priest.”

“…It’s not as simple as that.”

“Yeah, right.”

Ihan scoffed.

From what I've heard, the current High Priest isn't far from retirement, and the time to choose a successor is drawing near. Isn't it obvious that the high-ranking priests are embroiled in a political fight for his position?

And this guy.

“So you’re just sizing up which faction to join.”

“I will not deny it.”

A photo shown by Derek revealed that he had met with several temple officials, but Ihan simply stared at the man expressionlessly.

‘...Should I kill him?’

Until now, he’d spared them out of respect for old Raphael, but these people were pushing their luck.

One was so brazen to betray and sell information to the temple, and another was testing the waters for a faction switch.

‘They say humans are creatures of forgetfulness, and never has it felt more accurate than now.’

No matter how much fear you instill, people quickly forget.

Especially those possessed by ‘convictions’ or ‘faith’ can be even more forgetful.

Not that he was against faith or conviction, but feeling its repercussions himself, Ihan was becoming resolute.

Swoosh.

Whooooosh!

As Ihan opened his eyes after a moment of contemplation, a slicing wind blew.

Screech!

...A wind sharp enough to slice skin.

“Just, wait…”

“Why, why us…!”

The murderous intent wasn’t directed just at the fallen men and Pierre.

Crack!

The intern, no, ‘all the heretic inquisitors,’ felt the brunt of his fury as Ihan calmly drew his axe. The entire area was under his influence, and there was no escape for them. His resolve meant that even if they tried to run, the axe would surely split their skulls.

“Ugh…!”

The inquisitors should have struggled to survive, but they were frozen in place. No one, except for aura users or top mystics, could withstand the murderous intent from a knight like Ihan. Not even a hundred inquisitors could escape his wrath.

“-Any last words?”

“!!”

“If not, that’s fine.”

Whoosh!

Ihan, feeling that even hearing their last words was a waste of time, swung his axe...

Thump-!

...toward an empty stretch of forest.

[Thud…!]

“What, what…!?”

Those watching were blinking in confusion.

Why had the axe expected to strike their heads flown into the forest instead, and why was someone falling there?

They were all confounded, but Ihan just smirked.

“If you think I’d kill people over something so trivial, you're mistaken. I’m not a murderer.”

Ihan was not a reckless executioner, but rather a skilled actor capable of deceiving even his allies.

Well...

Sniff, sniff.

“…?”

...perhaps he was too good at acting.

Suddenly catching a strong scent of ammonia in the air, Ihan blinked in bewilderment.

Could it really be...

“...these inquisitors wouldn’t…”

“…….”

“No, right…?”

“…….”

“…?”

“……sob.”

“……um.”

Ihan, feeling a bit embarrassed by their blank stares, scratched his cheek.

Hmm…

...Perhaps his passionate method acting had been a bit too much for them.