An Encounter That Should Never Have Happened (7)

“This is the way the map showed…!”

Bishop Leviham hurried through the forest, sweating profusely.

The elf followed at an easy pace.

Watching the old man struggle between the trees was almost pitiful.

What a fool.

Leviham's plan was simple enough. He would slip out of the Deharem mansion without Theorad knowing, cross the nearby forest and reach the cathedral as quickly as possible. Once inside, he believed, the Church's inviolable sanctuary would place them beyond even a powerful noble family's reach.

There was nothing particularly wrong with the plan.

The problem was that the elf he had solemnly promised to protect didn't need his protection in the slightest.

“Bishop, we have to run!”

She'd deliberately raised her voice while leaving the mansion, making enough commotion for the servants to notice. She wanted them to tell Theorad what had happened.

After all, the entire point was to make trouble for him.

He knows how serious things will become if you take me to the cathedral.

Even Theorad couldn't be foolish enough to let that happen. He would come after them.

The elf had to admit that if Theorad truly thought she was putting herself in the Order's custody to secure her freedom, he might become genuinely angry.

She knew he wasn't the kind of person to pass blame onto others lightly.

For some reason, the thought of his possible anger made her feel a little offended herself.

He ought to be here by now…

Leviham was still wandering from one tree to another, apparently unsure of the route.

She glanced behind them.

No Theorad. No hoofbeats. Not even a voice in the distance.

The sun was sinking.

“Isn't it this way…?” she murmured.

Leviham's shoulders jerked. He seemed to think she was questioning him.

For someone who had promised to save her, he'd grown remarkably uncertain.

Not that she could entirely blame him.

The forest was full of similar-looking trees. A bishop accustomed to conducting worship in a cathedral could hardly be expected to navigate wilderness like a hunter.

Even an experienced hunter might get lost in unfamiliar woodland. Leviham had nothing but a map he'd studied before leaving the mansion.

At this rate, she'd be stuck with the tiresome man all evening.

She frowned.

Then her ears pricked up.

Oh?

Hooves were striking the ground somewhere nearby.

Several beats followed one another, growing steadily louder.

At last Leviham heard them too.

“Impossible… They've already caught up?”

Already?

What a nerve he had. They'd spent quite enough time stumbling through the woods.

“Quick! Get ready! We must—”

The bishop's frantic instructions held no appeal for the elf.

She glanced at him.

“No.”

And stayed exactly where she was.

A moment later, two horses burst through the undergrowth.

The riders were Theorad and Beynon.

Neigh!

Theorad pulled sharply on his reins.

“Bishop! That elf is my slave! Not even a bishop has the right to take her from me!”

The words delighted the elf.

How cute.

Unfortunately, no one else seemed nearly so pleased with the situation.

Theorad dismounted, his face showing a mixture of alarm and frustration, and approached Leviham.

Beynon climbed down and followed.

“Bishop,” Theorad began, making an effort to remain civil, “I believe there's been some misunderstanding. May I ask why you took my slave and fled into the forest?”

It was a reasonable question.

Leviham, however, was convinced that the young viscount was in league with witches. To his ears, the courtesy sounded like nothing but a disguise.

“Misunderstanding? How long will you lie to me, Viscount Theorad? Do you imagine you can conceal your hostility toward the Church forever?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I saw it! You received a crystal sphere from the master of the Dokwol Guild! Are you still going to deny it?”

How does he know whose sphere that was?

Theorad turned toward Beynon.

Beynon merely shrugged, looking as baffled as he was.

The bishop really had seen the witch's crystal sphere. There was no point pretending the transaction hadn't happened.

But hostility toward the Church?

That was an absurd misunderstanding.

“It's true that I dealt with the leader of the Dokwol Guild,” Theorad said earnestly. “But I didn't do it for the malicious purpose you're imagining. Please believe me.”

“Believe you? Then tell me what sort of business you conducted with her!”

“Ah. Well…”

Theorad faltered.

How am I supposed to tell a bishop I bought pills to make a woman lactate and an assortment of adult toys?

He might as well declare himself socially dead.

Leviham had no way to know that. He took the hesitation as proof that Theorad was lying.

“Just as I thought. You cultivated the Church's goodwill and offered your patronage so we wouldn't suspect the schemes you were carrying out all along!”

“Bishop, that isn't—”

“Enough! I know this elf has been made a tool of your plotting. I intend to stop you, whatever it costs me.”

The misunderstanding was becoming more tangled with every exchange.

Theorad realized that no explanation would get through to him here.

He turned to his knight.

“Beynon. Restrain the bishop.”

Beynon's eyes widened.

“Young master? Are you serious?”

“Yes. We can't allow him to reach the cathedral like this.”

If they could bring him back to the mansion, Theorad might have a chance to explain everything without the elf standing beside them.

But Beynon had good reason to hesitate.

“Young master, laying hands on a bishop could bring the Inquisition down on us. Are you prepared for that?”

Does that matter? He's going to get himself killed!

“We'll worry about the consequences later. There's something more urgent right now.”

“…If that's your order.”

Shing.

Beynon drew his sword.

The scabbard was worn, but the polished blade was sharp and threatening.

Leviham's eyes flickered as the knight took up a fighting stance.

So they've decided to use force.

The bishop steadied himself. He had expected something of the sort from a young noble who associated with the leader of a witches' guild.

“If you think I'll come quietly, you're mistaken.”

Golden light began to gather around his body.

He was preparing divine magic, the power wielded by clergy who placed their faith in the God of Light.

Theorad swallowed.

He had no idea whether Beynon could defeat a bishop wielding such power.

“Bishop, I can't explain everything here. I'm asking you to trust me and return to the mansion. I don't want you to die.”

“So that's your threat? Resist, and you'll kill me?”

Not me! The elf might kill you!

The words rose to Theorad's lips and stopped there.

The elf was watching from behind the bishop.

He couldn't risk saying what he knew.

In truth, the elf had no intention of killing Leviham just then.

She'd simply used him as a plaything, and the game had reached its end.

Well…

It was time to discard him.

I've troubled Theorad enough for now.

The Church and a noble house getting entangled would make everything needlessly complicated.

Worse, Leviham might injure Theorad if he let his divine magic run wild.

A toy that broke could hardly continue to entertain her.

The elf walked toward the bishop, light on her feet.

Oblivious, Leviham continued gathering divine power, directing his hostility at Theorad.

“I shall punish you in God's name!”

“Bishop,” Theorad warned, “I'll give you one last chance to withdraw those words. If you refuse, you'll regret it.”

“Withdraw? As though I'd surrender to the likes of—”

Tap.

Thin fingers touched Leviham's back.

The world changed.

What…?

Darkness swallowed everything.

Theorad and Beynon vanished from his sight. So did the horses, the trees and every trace of the forest around him.

An utter, suffocating silence remained.

Leviham twisted about, desperately trying to see anything at all.

There was nothing.

Then a voice sounded inside his head.

Faith cannot protect you. Your God of Light is only an illusion.

Leviham stumbled backward.

He shook his head, trying to deny what he'd heard, but the voice returned with dreadful clarity.

I will show you mercy. Leave this place if you want to live. And never speak of what happened in the mansion again.

The bishop clenched his teeth.

The Devil.

It had to be the whisper of a demon.

“Theorad Deharem!” he shouted into the darkness. “So you're in league with the Devil and practicing witchcraft! I will never yield. The God of Light lives within my heart. Your tricks cannot corrupt me!”

He gathered every scrap of will and divine power he possessed.

Golden flame burst from his hands.

Its radiance pushed back the darkness.

“The God of Light does not choose the weak to be His servants!”

The flames grew brighter, spreading light in every direction.

For one glorious instant, Leviham felt he had overcome the darkness.

He raised his head.

And froze.

Beyond the reach of his light, dozens of immense red eyes were staring down at him.

The gaze was impossibly arrogant, as if each pair of eyes belonged to something capable of crushing him without effort.

“Ah… ah…”

Leviham's knees failed him.

The divine fire sputtered and dissolved into a thin haze.

Darkness engulfed his world once again.

“P-please… spare me…”

His eyes trembled.

To Leviham, one dreadful conclusion seemed inescapable.

Theorad Deharem was not someone he had the power to confront.