Chapter 79…………………….
Meanwhile, in the lower village of Vandel.
With the rain pouring down like this, the village chief and his wife had countless things to do. They had to knock on doors urging people to evacuate to the monastery, and they also needed to safeguard the village’s grain stores.
There was no time left to look after their scatterbrained son.
Robbie! Your father and I are heading up first, so you make sure to carry the food sack I prepared and follow us quickly, all right?
The chief’s wife pleaded with her son as she made her way toward Windrock Monastery through the rain.
But Robbie stood in front of the sack his mother had tied up, hesitating for a long time. If he went up to the monastery, he was sure to run into that red-eyed man.
‘I don’t want to go…’
Robbie had only just started regaining his wits after days of rambling in terror. That didn’t mean he had overcome his fear.
Karl was still missing, and the demon that had taken Erish as its wife was still strutting about.
Still, he couldn’t just stay. If he didn’t bring that sack up, his parents would be stuck starving at the monastery.
‘When I follow Father to Arnsberg next time, I’ll report him then.’
The monks at Windrock Monastery were clearly being fooled by that man. He would need to call on higher authorities.
Resolved, Robbie stepped outside.
Vandel was silent. Since the morning downpour, most villagers had already evacuated to the monastery.
Even the goats, sheep, and cows had been driven up the hill, leaving the village eerily desolate.
“So scary…”
Robbie hunched his shoulders as he walked.
“Is no one here?!”
A shout rang out. Robbie’s eyes went wide as he looked toward the voice.
“Seems there’s no one left in the village.”
One of the imperial guard knights reported, and Prince Elio clicked his tongue.
He had been delighted when they happened upon Archbishop Viktor on the road, but the storm had ruined everything. The villagers had all evacuated to the monastery.
‘I’d hoped to bribe a few of them to testify that they’d seen the demon.’
Elio already knew that the archbishop was urgently investigating after hearing that the potato blight was caused by demons. The guilty Philrod had spilled everything.
That the archbishop himself had come all the way to this remote western corner of the empire would later serve as strong evidence for Elio.
But what he needed most was a witness to claim that Rahan Norwich had contracted with a demon and caused all these disasters. It couldn’t be anyone from Elio’s or Philrod’s circles.
More than anything, Elio wanted to completely ensnare his sister.
So his plan had been to bribe a few Vandel villagers with gold coins to testify: “I saw Rahan Norwich summoning a demon.”
‘But with this timing ruined, tch. I’ll just have to force the momentum.’
Yet luck seemed to be with him today.
“We found someone left behind and brought him! Says he’s the village chief’s son!”
The knight dragged forward none other than Robbie. Elio’s eyes gleamed.
The rain-soaked monastery was dark and noisy. In the courtyard, the goats and sheep suddenly brought in were bleating anxiously, and people were frantically looking after their families.
Still, this wasn’t their first time. Everyone quickly settled into roles. The women split into two groups — one cooking, the other minding children.
The men cleaned out empty halls and rooms to make places for people to sleep.
“Hey! Come get a bowl!”
Of course, Rahan was among them. He hadn’t gone back to his hut but stayed to help with the busywork. After all, he had little else to do until Erish arrived.
But his mind was restless, recalling his conversation over tea with Prior Wilbert.
I came to know by chance… Is it true that the soul of Lord Norwich bears the footprints of a demon?
Rahan had flinched as he tried to sip his tea, the cup clattering against the saucer.
That reaction alone was as good as an answer, and he realized it too late. Prior Wilbert simply regarded him in silence, waiting for his direct response.
Rahan wrestled with himself. Should he lie?
But he didn’t want to. Taking a deep breath, he admitted:
…It is true.
…Then this plague—
It was not me.
Rahan suspected Leviathan was responsible, so Wilbert’s question wasn’t surprising. Knowing he wouldn’t be believed, he still had to answer that way.
Yet unexpectedly, Wilbert nodded.
I understand.
Even Rahan was caught off guard.
You… believe me?
If a man admits the demon’s mark is upon him, why would he bother lying only about not being guilty?
The prior’s quiet smile unsettled Rahan. He stammered again.
Will you… denounce me?
Those who contracted with demons faced excommunication and execution. But Wilbert shook his head.
Well. Many things are called the work of demons. Even today’s storm, for instance. Yet the people of Arnsberg know this storm comes every year. So they flee to the monastery, thinking it must be Eridrahan’s will.
…
We cannot know the meaning of all Eridrahan does. But from what I’ve seen of you, Lord Norwich, I believe you must have your reasons…
Rahan fell silent, staring at his knees. He didn’t know how to respond.
He had meant to speak of his expedition days, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to.
All his life he had been forced to prove himself, yet never trusted.
But in Arnsberg, it was different.
So he stammered out fragments of his story. Yet before he finished, Wilbert raised a hand.
Regrettably, as you see, the monastery is far too busy to hear your full tale. I’ll hear it another time. But…
…
The reason I summoned you was to tell you one thing in particular.
His thoughts broke off there.
“Rahan! Sorry, could you bring these bowls to those folks? They arrived late, from the coastal village. Got hit hard by the storm and came empty-handed.”
It was Madam Laura. In the bustle of the monastery, there was no time for Rahan to daydream.
“Of course.”
Smiling, he accepted two bowls of corn porridge from her.
Akhim Norwich, too, was swept into the busy monastery. Before he knew it, he had been conscripted into cleaning the chapel and guest halls.
Among the crowd struggling to keep dry, a strong-looking man couldn’t just stand idle.
‘I need to find Rahan.’
“Dear! Come eat corn porridge later! There’s someone from another village here too!”
A middle-aged woman called from the chapel door. The man cleaning with her replied,
“Got it! Where’s Robbie?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere around!”
“Good-for-nothing brat. Hope the storm carries him off!”
The man shook his fist in mock anger. But when he met Akhim’s eyes, he gave a sheepish smile.
“He’s my son. Keeps spouting nonsense and lazing about…”
Akhim only nodded. Parents everywhere struggled with troublesome children.
“So, where are you from?”
“I came from the coast.”
Akhim repeated the name he’d heard earlier when slipping in with a group of evacuees.
The man nodded, then puffed up a little. “I’m the chief of Vandel.”
“I see. You must have it tough,” Akhim replied politely.
For a border baron of Norwich to speak so deferentially to a commoner — the knights of the frontier would have been scandalized.
“The coast? That place has barely thirty people. Never saw a man like you there.”
“Oh, I’m a traveler. I just happened to evacuate with them.”
“Ah, I see. Thought so.”
Thank goodness for his quick wit.
“Handsome fellow, aren’t you. Your parents must be proud. Unlike my son — ha! At his age most have a wife and two kids, but he just prattles on about demons.”
“Demons?”
The sudden word made Akhim stiffen. The chief waved it off.
“No, no, just nonsense he spouts. Well, truth is, our village ended up with a son-in-law with eyes red as a rabbit’s…”
He meant Rahan. Strictly speaking, none of it — “our village” or “son-in-law” — was quite accurate, but in the chief’s mind it had become accepted fact.
“Have you seen him?”
“Ah, yes. By chance.”
Akhim answered carefully. The chief clapped his knee.
“Our folks were shocked too! You know how those eyes look. But turns out he’s a solid man. Saved our village, he did.”
“…Is that so.”
“But my Robbie, that fool, spends my money on drink and keeps spouting nonsense….”
The chief thought his son ungrateful and idiotic compared to Rahan, but he wasn’t about to lavish praise on another man’s son to a stranger.
So as the two of them went to collect their porridge, the talk drifted into laments about an immature son who still hadn’t grown up.
But even such casual words were enough to stir Akhim’s thoughts, leaving him deeply unsettled as he pondered his unknown younger brother.
