Chapter 25: The Corrupt Priest's Conversation
Dialogue.
Dialogue.
The man sank into his chair with a deep frown.
"What? You let Dakia escape?"
Hilden, eastern branch manager of 'Ileh' - the organization controlling the northern kingdom's underworld - bowed his head deeply. He hated bowing to this ill-tempered bastard, but the client held the purse strings, and those strings needed careful handling.
"Yes. I have no excuses. An unexpected variable interfered—"
"A variable? Did you just say variable?"
The man suddenly stood and shoved Hilden's shoulder with precisely calibrated force. Before Hilden could recover his balance, another shove followed.
Thud.
Hilden landed gracelessly on his rear. He fought to relax his involuntarily stiffening face. Forty-three years in this business paid off - his features smoothly arranged themselves into perfect submission.
Seeing this, the man's anger cooled. He'd hoped for resistance to justify further humiliation. Slouching back into his chair, he spat,
"So? Why report every detail? Handle such variables yourselves. That's what I pay you for. Or are you trying to piss me off?"
Hilden rose slowly, bowing at the waist. He had no desire to speak, but losing fifteen elite operatives in one blow left no choice. Humiliation was preferable to bankruptcy.
"It appears... we'll require additional funds to continue the request."
Deep wrinkles carved the man's forehead.
"Additional funds? How much have I poured into you rats already? Come here."
Hilden hurried forward at the finger's summons, offering his face.
Crack!
The slap whipped his head sideways. Dissatisfied, the man struck repeatedly before growling:
"Explain. If you mention covering losses, you die today."
Though precisely the truth, Hilden offered his prepared lie:
"The intervening variable isn't ordinary. We had no choice."
"Stop wasting breath! Getting talkative?"
'May lightning strike this bastard!'
Hilden suppressed his rage, envisioning his rabbit-like children and bearish wife.
"The two men who kidnapped Princess Dakia Irmel—"
"Men? Dakia travels with two men now?"
The client fixated on the word.
'Damn your interruptions!'
Hilden continued through gritted teeth:
"One variable is Carmen Baltas, Ensis Baltas' bastard—"
"A mediocre noble at best."
"—trained since childhood, renowned even in the capital—"
"Enough. The other?"
"The second is Marnak, priest of the Sustenance Goddess."
"A priest? You're losing to some cleric and noble?"
"Marnak is no ordinary man. He earned the title 'Demon Slayer' in Guis by slaying a demon transformed into colossal beast—"
"Alone?"
"...Three Redemption Church priests assisted. They died during the battle."
"So he stole the kill."
Hilden produced his second card:
"He later solo-killed a monstrosity forged from Kelton's living sacrifices, earning 'Adversary of the Evil God.' He then humbly disclosed the truth and departed before acclaim could burden him."
The man lounged, skeptical.
"Convenient tales. Could be lies to cover cowardice."
'Stingy prick wouldn't admit truth if choking on it.'
"Still," the man conceded, "half-truths suffice. They won't touch Dakia. You'll get funds."
'Success!'
Hilden's mental images of family cheered.
"Not immediately. My coffers are drained."
"But your banquet tonight—"
The man drummed Hilden's skull mockingly.
"Cancel my entertainment to fund you? Don't be absurd."
'Cancel it, you swine!'
"Though I wonder..." The man stretched lazily. "How would Ensis Baltas react if his bastard died? He barely acknowledges the boy."
Hilden's face hardened at the disrespect toward the northerners' idol. The client chuckled at his expression.
"Enough. Get out. My girls arrive soon."
Hilden withdrew as quietly as he'd come.
We all know those moments.
When brash actions curdle into regret.
"Perhaps I should've spoken gentler to Princess Dakia. She seemed reasonable."
'Murder!'
Mother yanked my arm, demanding attention. I fed the tiny sausage piece to the miniature woman on my knee.
'Murder!!!'
She wiggled her feet, chewing blissfully. At least my trip downstairs to buy separate meals proved worthwhile.
As I bread-fed Mother, Dakia occupied my thoughts.
Mages.
I hated mages. Their self-absorption bordering on tyranny.
Mages had shattered my ordinary life. Since The Incident, instinctive revulsion gripped me whenever sensing their magic-tainted aura. Though knowing this stemmed from trauma, I still kept deliberate distance.
Having been burned once by magekind's honeyed words, repeating that folly seemed idiotic. Yet...
Dakia's recent behavior seeded doubt.
'Murder!'
Mother's demand interrupted. I quick-fed her meat just as knocking sounded.
Gripping Froststeel's hilt, I called:
"Who's there?"
Long pause. Then:
"It's Dakia."
Cradling Mother-turned-palm-sized, I tucked her into my breast pocket.
"Enter."
She arrived unarmed, mercifully spell-free. Noting my dinner plate, she asked:
"Midnight snack?"
"My stomach protested."
I kept vigilance while moving the plate aside. Dakia approached in simple white linens.
"May I sit? We should talk."
Her hesitant perch on my bed's edge puzzled me. Why visit after my threats mere hours prior?
The silence thickened until she finally spoke:
"You warned me earlier... because I'm a mage?"
The direct hit left me stammering:
"Yes."
Dakia gazed through window-falling snow.
"I recognized that look. People hurt by mages often watch me thus."
Her words flayed me open, exposing festering wounds. My silence confirmed what she already knew.
"Still," her golden eyes gleamed, "you're the first."
"Others bearing that hatred tried harming me. You merely demanded improvement."
Her cheerful tone deepened my shame.
"Honestly?" She nibbled her lip. "I can't promise to ignore injustice. But..."
A sudden smile.
"I'll consult you first, as advised. That's why I came."
As she rose to leave, I blurted:
"Wait."
Her turned head held expectation.
"My earlier... haste was discourteous. I apologize, Princess."
Dakia's sunrise smile outshone her golden eyes.
"First proper look you've given me. This pleases me."
We shared cautious smiles.
"Then we're reconciled? No lingering resentment?"
"None here."
"Nor I! Tomorrow, we meet smiling."
Her cheerful exit left me stroking Mother's hand.
"Mages too are individuals. This fool confronts that truth belatedly."
'Murder!'
Mother's food-focused complaints resumed. I smiled.
"The meal's gone cold. I'll reheat it properly - no cold dishes for Mother."
After feeding her warmed supper, I snatched brief sleep.
Pounding.
The innkeeper's grimace greeted me.
"Priest! Mercenaries blockade the village, demanding their comrades."
"You released yesterday's captives."
"Yes..."
Predictable. Armed mobs overpowered watchmen. The keeper's warning instead of night ambush showed rare decency.
Froststeel and Slaughterer in hand, I smiled.
"Tell them I'm coming.”
