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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 167: The Black Horse and the Young Donkey (1)

Chapter 167: The Black Horse and the Young Donkey (1)

Let’s‌‌ spin, let’s spin​‌​ around the matches.​‍

Let’s​⁠‍ joyfully sing around‌‍ the matches.

Until‌ the red hair‍‌ turns black.

Until​ the song we​‌⁠ were singing ends.‌

Let’s​ spin, let’s spin‍‍​ around the matches.⁠‍​

Let’s‌​ spin around the⁠​​ matches until they​‍‍ all fall.

***‍

A winter’s icy road.‍​

The‍ sound of horse⁠‌ hooves and the⁠ creaking of carriages‌‍ passing over were‌‌‌ loud.

The‌​​ northern wind, dry⁠‌ as the harsh‌‌ road, chilled the​⁠ already heavy atmosphere‌⁠‌ of the group.⁠

“It’s‍‍ time to part⁠⁠ ways.”

Joseph,‌ who dared to⁠ open the window​‌ despite the cold,‌ glanced at Vlad‍ and smiled faintly.‌

Joseph’s‌⁠ voice broke the​ silence that had‍ lasted for a long time, and‌⁠‍ all the knights⁠‌ looked ahead.

Ahead‍​ of the straight‍‌ road, two paths‍​​ diverged.

As‍​​ they reached the⁠ fork in the⁠‌ road ahead, the⁠ group and Vlad​‍‌ had to part⁠‌⁠ ways.

“Take​‌ care of yourself.”‍⁠‌

“Sir​ Joseph, please take⁠ care of your​ health as well.”​‍

Joseph‌⁠⁠ and the knights⁠‌ had to return‍ to Sturma.

It⁠ was natural for‍‍⁠ Joseph, who was​ eliminated from the‍⁠ competition for family‌ head, to return,‌‍ and the knights‌​‌ who followed him⁠​ would likely disperse​​ as they received‍‍​ new missions.

Although⁠ it’s said to‌‍​ be inevitable to⁠‌ feel regret about‍ parting, it was​ inevitable that the​‌ ending would be‍‌⁠ heavy for the⁠⁠ current group.

“Please⁠‌ don’t cause a commotion as usual.‍‌‌ Just like you​​‌ did at the‍​‌ convent this time.”​​

“…I’ll​ do my best.”​​‍

Meanwhile,⁠​ Jager’s constant reprimand‌ was quite welcomed.‍

He‌‌ wasn’t pleased to‍​ be the subject​ of someone’s laughter,​​‍ but the sound‌ of laughter from​⁠‍ all around seemed‌⁠ to lighten the​​ atmosphere a bit.⁠

“We‌‌ might be able‍ to get together‍⁠ in the spring.‍ Let’s see each‍​ other then.”

“Alright,⁠‍ Sir Joseph.”

Seeing​​‌ Joseph promising the‍‌ next meeting with‌‌ his pale lips​ seemed pitiful, but‍ Vlad believed Joseph’s‍ words were not‌‍‌ empty promises.

The‌‌⁠ Joseph he knew‍‍ was someone who⁠ always prepared for‍​​ the worst.

“…And‌ don’t forget what‌‌ I said.”

“Yes.”⁠‍

Vlad⁠‍​ silently nodded at‌‌‌ Joseph’s final words,‍‌ whispered softly.

The‌‌ advice Joseph gave​ him in a hushed voice came⁠​‌ from a strange​⁠‍ rumor spread by‍‍​ the Vatican.

“I​‍‌ hope the deacon​ achieves what he‍​‌ wants.”

“May​​ God’s peace be‍‍​ with you on‍‍ your return, Sir‍‍ Joseph.”

After​ bidding farewell for⁠ the last time,‌⁠ Joseph winked at‌‌ him quietly and⁠⁠ signaled that the‌‌‌ time had come.​​‍

Gregory,‌‌ Maxim, and Cade.‌

Vlad,​ who gave his​ final farewells with⁠ just a look​ in his eyes,⁠ finally parted ways​ from the group​‌ and turned towards‌‌ the opposite crossroad.⁠‌

A black horse and‌​​ a donkey moved​‌⁠ further away.

Even‍ in the winter‌​ wind, Joseph and‍ the knights paused​‍⁠ for a moment​ and watched their‍​ backs as they‍‌ gradually faded away.‍‌⁠

A cold wind blew,⁠​‌ but seeing Vlad‌‌ leading the way‍ of the young⁠‌ deacon no longer‍ seemed uncomfortable at​ all.

***‌

“Perhaps⁠​​ the knight sir​‍ didn’t know, but‌‍‌ every time Vlad⁠‍ of Soara’s name⁠‌‌ was mentioned, Lord‌‌ Andreas’ shoulders would‌ shrink.”

The‍ old donkey he‌​ was riding on‍⁠ was peaceful by‌⁠‌ itself, but the⁠​⁠ young deacon atop⁠‍ it now looked⁠​ lively as if‍⁠ he had finally⁠‍ found his own⁠​‌ world.

“Even⁠⁠​ if we throw​​⁠ down something that⁠⁠‌ could be sold⁠‌⁠ for a high‍​ price, no matter⁠‌ how much they​​ talk about it.‍‍ Still, no one‌⁠ is talking about⁠​ it right now.”​⁠

The​​ young deacon, who‌ was now chattering⁠ away, was named​ Jean.

This‌‌ boy, with a single-letter name uncommon‌ in the north,‍‌ was looking at⁠‍​ Vlad with happy⁠‌‍ eyes and a proud expression as‌‍⁠ if he was‌ proud of him.‌‌‍

“The‍‍⁠ name… Do you⁠⁠⁠ sell even your​ assurances for money?”​‌

“That’s‌‍‌ right. Everyone sold⁠⁠‍ them little by⁠‌‌ little. Especially those​ who came from‍ the Vatican.”

Perhaps‌‌ it was because⁠‌ he was a deacon under Andreas,‌‍ but Jean did​‌‍ not hide his‍ hostility towards the‌​​ Vatican.

Jean‌ was a boy​​ who knew better​ than anyone the​‌‌ circumstances of Andreas,​‍‌ who was famous⁠ yet wandered in⁠ the desert.

“Well,‌‍‌ the head nun‌​‌ of Soara also‌ sold something.”

Jean’s⁠⁠ words reminded Vlad‌‌​ of the Soara‍‍ convent, and he​​ frowned.

It‌⁠‍ was a convent‍​ built for the‍​ poor, but all​‌‍ the women inhabiting​ it were daughters‍‍ of powerful people.​

Pure‍‌⁠ virgins close to⁠‌⁠ God.

The‍‍‍ head nun of⁠ Soara was nothing‍​​ more than a businesswoman who borrowed​ God’s name and⁠ sold the title.‌

“…For‍⁠ now, let’s replace​​ the jerky with⁠‍​ this.”

“Yes?”‍

Jean’s‌⁠ eyes widened as‌ he looked at⁠ the bundle of⁠​ papers Vlad suddenly‍‍⁠ handed him.

The⁠⁠ name Kannor was​‍ engraved on the​‍ thick bundle of⁠ paper.

“Is​ it from the‌ Kannor family?”

“I⁠⁠‍ have a small⁠​ acquaintance with that‍​‌ person.”

Even​⁠⁠ the young deacon⁠​​ knew that Kannor⁠ family’s meat was‍‍ excellent.

And​‍ it’s pricey too.⁠⁠

And‌⁠​ Vlad was one‍‌​ of the knights⁠⁠⁠ who most supported‍⁠ the Kannor family.‌​‍

“It’s‌​‌ your first time⁠⁠ on a long⁠‌ journey, so it’s​⁠‍ best to eat‌ well. If you​ were to fall‌ ill somewhere, wouldn’t​ it be difficult‌​ for me, who‍​⁠ asked you to​​⁠ do this?”

“Ah.‌⁠‌ Uh. Thank you!”‍‌

Though‍⁠ he tried to​⁠ hide it, his​ flushed cheeks showed‍​‍ how he felt.‌​

There‌​ was no need⁠ to explain to‍ him the joy⁠ of serving meat⁠‌ to a child‍‍ in his prime.‍‍​

Perhaps⁠ Andreas, who lived⁠‍ a simple life,​​ hadn’t even been‍​⁠ able to see⁠‍‍ jerky like this.‍

“If​⁠ you have any‌⁠ inconvenience, tell me‍ anytime.”

He‌‍ was vaguely aware‍​ of it, but​⁠ the grace of​⁠⁠ Andreas, which I learned from Jean’s‌⁠‍ words, was greater​ than he thought.‍

Seeing​⁠‌ Jean pull out‍​ a piece of⁠‌​ dried meat and​‌⁠ murmur, Vlad hoped‌ that through the‌‍ path of the‌ young priest, he‍‌ could repay Andreas‌ with his own‍ worth.

***‌

“Wow…”​​

“What​‌ do we have⁠ to do, Deacon?”‌

The‍⁠ winter road to‌ Moshiam, the capital​⁠ of Baron Utman.‍‌​

I don’t know if⁠​ it was the‌ map or the⁠​‌ person holding the‌ map that was‌​‌ strange, but after‍ camping for several⁠ days, Vlad and‍ Jean finally managed⁠‌‌ to find a small village.

However,​ the joy of​ seeing the village⁠​​ was short-lived as⁠ the two soon⁠‌⁠ stopped in their‍⁠ tracks when they‌ saw a strange​ scene at the‌ foot of the‍‍ hill.

“What⁠ should we do?⁠‍ Are you going⁠⁠ down?”

“Wait…‍​ just wait a minute.”

Jean​‍​ frowned, still showing​⁠⁠ signs of youth​​⁠ and wondering what​‌⁠ to do.

Vlad‌⁠ stood still, watching⁠‍ Jean who was‍ deeply troubled.

The⁠‍ theme of this‍‌‍ journey was a young deacon, and⁠‍‌ Vlad knew well‌⁠ that the boy’s‍ growth through this​ trip was what​⁠‌ Bishop Andreas hoped‍ for.

“Let’s​‍​ go down. I have to stop⁠ it.”

“Alright.”‍​‍

Vlad‍​ nodded at the‌ young deacon’s words.⁠‌

The⁠‌​ first step towards‍ penance is to‌ look without turning⁠​‌ away.

At‌⁠​ the foot of‍‍‍ the hill, a festival was unfolding​‌⁠ along a difficult⁠‍‌ path, not an‍‍ easy one.

A small village whose⁠ name was not‍‍ even written on‌‌​ the map held‍ by Vlad.

However,‍‍ despite being such‍ a small village,​⁠ the square seen‍​ from the hill​‌‌ was crowded with⁠‌ people, as if‍​⁠ all the villagers‍‌​ had gathered en‌‍ masse.

“Help‌‌⁠ me! I’m innocent!”‌‌‍

A festival must have‍ a proper offering.​

Someone‍ captured for the‍​‌ festival struggled and⁠ shouted.

The‍⁠ mask looked quite​‍​ strange, as if⁠‍ someone had put⁠‍ it on.

“I⁠‍‌ didn’t do it!‍⁠‍ You’re making a mistake!”

The⁠ man, who was‍‍⁠ covered not only​ with a strange‌ mask but also​‍‍ with dark clothes,⁠​ shouted non-stop, but​ the villagers simply​ piled up firewood‌‍‌ and lit the⁠ fire.

Among⁠⁠ them, there were‌‍​ people covering their‌‍‍ ears with their‌‌ fingers as if⁠ they didn’t want‌‍‍ to hear anything.‌⁠​

“Everyone,‍ don’t be deceived!⁠⁠ By their very‍‌⁠ nature, evil people‍​​ use their language​ to deceive others!”​‍

A man dressed in​‌​ a pure white‍ robe stood in‌ front of the‍‍ people, shouting loudly.​‌

I don’t know which⁠ affiliation he belonged​​ to, but from​‌​ his appearance, he​ clearly had the‌ look of a priest.

“I’m‍‍ sure you all‍ know about the​ evil being that​​ originated in Moshiam!”⁠‌‌

As‍‍ soon as the​‌ word Moshiam came‌⁠​ out of the⁠ priest’s mouth, the‍​‌ people’s eyes began​⁠ to turn towards​‍ him.

A city engraved with⁠ a sinister and⁠​ terrifying name.

Even⁠‍‌ in this remote⁠​ village, everything related⁠‌ to Moshiam was​​ frowned upon.

“Why‍​ did everything rot​ in the once-healthy‌‌ barley field, and‌‌ why did the‌⁠⁠ healthy water from⁠‌⁠ the well dry‍​‌ up? It’s all‌⁠‌ because of that​‌‍ guy who came‌‌ from Moshiam!”

The⁠‌⁠ priest’s fingertips began‍ to point at‍‍ the man struggling‍‍⁠ and tied to‍ a pillar.

“So​‌ we must burn⁠ him!”

“Crazy​​ bastard! Why burn⁠ good people?”

The‌⁠‌ oddly looking man​‌ tried to hit‍⁠⁠ him with all‌⁠ his might, but​⁠ he was already‌⁠ tied up and‌‌‌ a red smoke‍⁠​ slowly rose from‍‌​ below.

His‌ appearance from afar‌ looked like that‌ of a crow​ roasted over a wood fire.

“…Ah,⁠‍‍ this seems suspicious.”⁠‌

Vlad,​‌‌ who had dug‍‍ into the center‍⁠‌ of the village​​ to avoid the​ gaze of the‍⁠‌ few watchers, scratched​‌ his head and​⁠​ looked at the​‍⁠ center of the⁠‍ festival in flames.‍‌‍

“No,​ right?”

“Yes.⁠‍ It doesn’t seem‌‌ right.”

Now‍⁠‍ on Vlad’s shoulders‌ was Jean, riding​ on a wooden​‌⁠ horse.

Jean‍‍ also wore a tunic of pure‍⁠‍ white, but the‍ villagers’ eyes had​ long been focused⁠‍‌ on the priest​‌‍ standing before them.​

Jean​‌‍ took the opportunity‍ to take out⁠ a small magnifying⁠‍ glass and focused⁠ it on the​​​ man who was​‌​ about to be​ burned at the⁠ stake.

“It⁠‍ seems we can’t‍‍ see it no‍‍​ matter how hard‌ we try. Of​⁠ course, it could‍ be a presence​‌⁠ that even this‍​‌ magnifying glass can’t⁠‌ detect…”

“If‌​ that’s the case,‍ there’s no way⁠⁠⁠ they would have​ caught him like⁠‍​ this in the‌‌ first place.”

Since‍ he was just‍⁠ a child, he‌ might have gone⁠⁠‌ unnoticed, but if⁠ he were someone‍ of that caliber,‌ he probably wouldn’t⁠​‌ have been captured⁠‌‌ by the villagers​‌ in the first​ place.

“But,​‍ well, I think‍⁠‌ I know without​⁠‌ having to check.”⁠

Vlad‌ and Jean, riding‌ the horse, looked⁠ at the same‍ place at the‍‌​ same time.

“You​‌ need to improve⁠ your performance! So⁠⁠‌ that God above⁠​​ can see it!”​‌

As‍⁠​ the firewood fire⁠ dyed a bright⁠‌‌ red color, offerings⁠⁠ piled up in​⁠ front of the‌​​ priest.

The‌‌‍ villagers who followed‌ the frenetic shouts​ left the belongings⁠ they had brought‍‌​ in front of‌ the priest and⁠ repeatedly bowed their‌⁠ heads in prayer.⁠‌

The‌ priest shouted the​⁠ name of God,⁠​ but looking at‌‌ him was a lie.

Vlad⁠‍‍ frowned as he⁠ listened to the​ priest’s voice grow‍ louder as the‍​ mountain of sacrifices⁠​ piled up in⁠​ front of him.‍​

“That’s‌​‌ a scammer.”

It’s‍ like recognizing your⁠ companions.

I don’t know if‍​ he really was‌‍ a priest or⁠ not, but Vlad⁠ noticed his clumsy‌ movement and grabbed​ Jean by the‍ shoulder.

“What‌​ should I do?”‌

“We‌⁠‍ have to stop⁠ him. We can’t⁠​​ just ignore the⁠ tragedies that occur‍​⁠ using the name‍ of God.”

Jean​‌‌ quickly took out‍ the Bible from‌​⁠ his pocket and‍‌ looked at Vlad⁠‍‌ with stern eyes.⁠

The​ boy who had‌⁠ been happily eating‍ jerky a moment⁠‍⁠ ago was nowhere​ to be seen.⁠​‍

“Alright.⁠​ I’ll do as‍​ the deacon wishes.”⁠‌‍

Jean‌‌ must have felt‍​ encouraged by Vlad’s‌‍ nod, so he⁠​⁠ quickly opened the‍‍ Bible and flipped⁠‍‍ through the pages.‌

A book of the‌​‌ Bible carefully engraved​ by Bishop Andreas,​​ letter by letter,⁠ for his young​⁠ deacon.

The⁠⁠⁠ hand of the‌ young deacon flipping​ through the Bible‌​ stopped on the‍ page where a hymn to God‍⁠​ was written.

– Cast away the⁠​‍ vain idols of​‍ the world.

– Set aside all​‌‍ human lies and⁠ injustices.

– I will go⁠‌‍ wherever I am‍​​ called to go.​

The‍ villagers began to‌ walk slowly around​‌ the bonfire, following‍ the shouts of‍‌ an unknown man.‌⁠‌

However,‍ all the people​‍ surrounding the bright‌⁠ red light turned​‍​ their heads when⁠ they suddenly heard⁠ a noble voice.⁠

“You‍‌⁠ there.”

“Yes,‍‍ what?”

As‌ the voice of⁠‍ the young deacon‌⁠ carved a path,⁠‍ a knight walked‌​ down the path.⁠

The‌​‍ left eye of‌ the knight had‌‌​ a golden glow​ that anyone could⁠ see.

“Are​‌ you really a priest?”

“…Agh.”⁠‍

The‌⁠ fake priest had⁠ to bite his‍‌ treacherous tongue upon‍⁠‍ seeing the beautiful​​ images that assaulted⁠‍ his ears and‌ eyes.

Piled⁠‌ sacrifices, a priest⁠‍ who couldn’t speak,⁠ and an innocent⁠ sacrifice still struggling​ over the flames.⁠‍⁠

“First,‌ shall we extinguish‌ the light and‌ talk?”

People‌ who are where​‍ they are supposed‌​ to be and‍ doing what they​ are supposed to‌‍​ do.

Bishop‍‌‍ Andreas’s sword and‍‍​ his young voice​⁠⁠ held up the⁠‌​ false flame.

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