An Encounter That Should Never Have Happened (3)
What excuse would the man before her offer?
The elf was curious.
Go on. Make something up. Just like before.
She disliked humans. To say she hated them would not be far from the truth.
No matter how noble a person's intentions appeared, sooner or later they revealed themselves as self-deception and hypocrisy. Humans had begun war after war. Murder, plunder, cruelty, insults, lust, and greed were woven into the ordinary workings of their society.
They were an astonishingly contradictory race.
Show them affection, and they tried to exploit it. Help them achieve an ambition, and they demanded a greater one. They detested being ruled, yet loved to rule others. Self-interest consumed them even as they spoke loftily of justice.
And of all human beings, she found priests the most repulsive.
In God's name, punish the witches who deceive human hearts and conspire with devils!
The elf remembered.
Not so very long ago, those who called themselves servants of God had spread slaughter and madness across the empire.
Innocent witches died beneath the swords of inquisitors. People who weren't witches at all were denounced as witches if someone within the Church wished them gone. Their lives could be destroyed by an accusation.
It had been an age of screams and blood, a hell visited upon the world while almost no one dared object.
At first, the elf had tried to stop it with words.
Concealing her true identity, she sought out high-ranking churchmen and appealed to their reason and compassion.
Stop this inhumanity. Witches have not been stealing people's minds. They have not conspired with devils. This persecution is born of misunderstanding.
They would not listen. They treated her objections as an insult and drove her away.
You dare argue even after seeing this document? It plainly states that Eligos, a great duke of Hell, will join forces with witches to attack the empire! It even bears the seal of Baal, the great devil. What more proof could you want?
The supposedly irrefutable evidence was a document said to come from the demon realm, with no verifiable source.
No one had established where it came from or whether any of its claims were true. But the Church refused to reconsider.
Only then had the elf understood: it had never wanted the truth.
The witch hunt united frightened people around a common enemy. It strengthened the Church and turned anger toward the demon realm. She suspected the imperial household, politicians, and wealthy interests had also become entangled in the benefits of the persecution.
Enough of your lies! The God of Light commands it! We shall rid the Holy Empire of these witches who live like parasites among us!
The priests' cries carried the madness from one corner of the empire to the next.
Witches confessed to crimes they had never committed, hoping to save their lives. They were killed anyway, simply for being witches. Some were handed over by the very humans they had helped.
Informers multiplied. Witch-hunting bounty hunters prospered. Farmers who plowed fields by day searched for witches with fire irons by night. Knights collected honors for the number they killed.
At that rate, the witches of the empire would soon have been wiped out. Those forced to flee the Empire had nowhere left to go but the seven hells of the underworld.
As the survivors waited for death, a young witch stood before them.
“You bastards! What are you all doing?” she shouted. “Are you going to lie down and die? I refuse! I didn't become a witch just so I could disappear without a fight! I want to live!”
She called herself Dremes.
She urged the others to resist, and more and more witches gathered around her. The elf sided with them, too. She couldn't bear to watch the persecuted die without a chance to defend themselves.
“I want to lose my virginity to a man I can be proud of, not be run through by some Church bastard's spear!” Dremes cried. “Why should I die? Why should any of you die? You haven't done anything wrong, damn it! Have you?”
Her outrage gave the others courage. As the resistance spread, the empire descended into a vast civil war.
Witches attacked Church branches with the different forms of magic they had developed for themselves. Some killed humans who came to hunt them and even used human victims as sacrifices in dark magic.
People who hated the Church joined their side. Mercenaries who smelled profit did the same. Battles flared across the provinces.
A fire that had seemed about to die found fresh fuel and spread out of control.
At last the Church, unable to suppress the uprisings alone, asked the imperial family for troops.
The reply was not what it expected.
You began this affair. Don't try to lay the consequences at the imperial family's feet.
The imperial household had its own reasons. A stronger central government would benefit from a weakened Church, and there was little reason to spend imperial strength rescuing those who had created the disaster.
At length the Church agreed to negotiate with the witches.
The settlement made at the event remembered as Walpurgis Night recognized the witches' freedoms and rights across the Empire, extending civil recognition beyond the Church's decrees.
That was decades ago. For most humans, it was history.
For the elf, whose memory was far sharper than that of other races, the scenes remained as vivid as yesterday.
No wonder she felt disgust whenever she saw priestly robes.
First an inquisitor had come to Theorad's mansion. Now the man who headed the local Church had arrived and begun behaving suspiciously.
She wanted to cut his throat.
But she restrained herself.
He was Theorad's guest.
It wouldn't do for a slave to murder her master's guest.
She didn't want to embarrass Theorad. More precisely, she didn't want to break her toy.
She had yet to enjoy him as much as she wished, and she still didn't know whether certain things he'd said to her in the past had been sincere.
For the moment, a warning would suffice. It should discourage this priest from entertaining any dangerous ideas.
“Did you mistake Master's office for the bathroom?” she asked, her voice growing almost conversational.
Leviham seemed to come back to himself.
“A mistake…”
For one fleeting moment, he thought she would let him escape unharmed. That comforting impression was surely an illusion: she seemed to be offering to overlook what she'd seen only if he accepted the excuse. He had no better option.
He raised his head and managed a smile.
“Yes. It seems I misremembered the way. It's been some time since my last visit.”
“Didn't you decline a servant's help because you said you remembered?”
“Ha… ha. My memory was not as reliable as I thought.”
“Then I suppose it can't be helped. I'll show you to the bathroom. Follow me.”
She turned and walked away, her waist-length silver hair moving gently against her back.
“Ah.”
She stopped as though remembering one last thing, and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes were cold again.
“I hope you'll behave more carefully inside this mansion from now on. Master doesn't like having his private hobbies exposed.”
His hobbies?
Leviham weighed the implication and forced himself to answer calmly.
“Yes. I'll keep that in mind.”
The tea had gone cold.
Even through the cup I could feel no warmth. The chocolate wasn't melting as quickly as it should, either.
How long are they going to be?
Both of them had left for the bathroom ages ago. Were they both constipated?
I was idly turning the teacup in my hands when the door across the room opened.
Bishop Leviham entered with the elf. I stood at once.
“Bishop! Did you finish using the toilet all right?”
“Master, shouldn't you ask me, too…?” the elf muttered beside him.
I ignored her.
Leviham glanced at the elf before answering, with obvious discomfort.
“I managed to relieve my bowels, thank you. But I may have eaten something that disagreed with me. I don't feel especially well.”
“Then shall I have some medicine brought from the household stores?”
He waved a hand.
“I don't think medicine is necessary. If I could close my eyes for a little while… Would you allow me to rest in an empty room?”
“Could the bishop just die instead?”
The elf said it so readily that my whole body shuddered.
You can't say that to a bishop!
I hurried over and clamped a hand across her mouth.
“O-of course you may rest, Bishop. Please pay no attention to my slave. Take whichever empty room you please.”
“Thank you for your kindness. Then I'll impose on you for a little while.”
He bowed and left the drawing room with surprising haste. It was so abrupt that it almost seemed rude.
Does he really intend to sleep here?
I'd never heard of a bishop taking a nap in another noble's house.
After a moment I removed my hand from the elf's mouth.
Something warm and wet slid across my palm.
There was saliva on my hand. While I'd covered her mouth, she'd been eagerly licking my palm.
“…Are you in heat?”
I looked down at her in disgust.
The elf pressed herself lightly against my side. Her chest met my shoulder as she drew my arm between hers, making it difficult to keep my expression from changing.
I couldn't understand what she wanted, which was precisely why I was frightened.
“Master,” she said in a sweeter voice than usual.
She clasped my arm against her chest.
“Isn't it time to punish this vulgar sow who knows nothing but how to swallow her master's cum?”
So that was it.
But I still hadn't even found out what the adult products I'd ordered from Dremes were. I didn't know what she'd chosen or how they were meant to be used. If I promised to begin some elaborate punishment without that knowledge, then failed even to humiliate the elf properly, I might die.
Surely postponing matters for one day would be safer.
“Don't be impatient. You'll be punished, but the day and hour are for me to decide, not you…”
Her expression hardened instantly.
The murderous coldness in her face made my shoulders tremble.
She won't forgive me for putting it off again.
Sensing the danger, I forced my mouth into what I hoped was a natural sneer.
“—We'll begin right now. I'm going up to my office. Follow me.”