SHV 09

Episode 9

“What Happened in Tillong (1)”

“Wow.”

Orléans let out an exclamation as he looked at Tillong Cathedral. I also gazed at it with a similar feeling.

The cathedral of Tillong looked like a small castle a local lord might own. However, it had clearly been abandoned for a long time—many parts were broken or collapsed, and it looked like no one had used it in years.

“Didn’t you say they collect taxes, church fees, and donations too?”

Orléans asked Marco.

“They collect everything. If you can’t pay, they drag you away by force. I don’t know where they take you.”

Marco answered more like an ordinary boy now, unlike before. He had talked a lot with Orléans on the way here, so it seemed he had opened up a bit.

“They collect that much money, so why is the cathedral in this state?”

“They probably pocket it in the middle. Isn’t it obvious?”

“And what would they use the money for?”

“How would I know? People always find ways to spend money, don’t they?”

“That’s true.”

At this point, they weren’t just a bit closer—they were starting to sound like a comedy duo.

“Sir.”

Julien called me.

“You said you’d give us food.”

“That’s right. And I’ll return your gun too.”

I wasn’t sure about the gun, but I intended to give them food. I took out the second food basket stored in the carriage.

“What about the gun?”

Marco asked insistently.

“Didn’t I say I’d decide after seeing how things go?”

“But we brought you all the way to the cathedral!”

“Not enough yet.”

“What? That’s not fair! You’re an adult, why are you lying?”

I almost asked him what he thought about kids stealing guns and becoming bandits, but it seemed pointless, so I held back.

“If you keep arguing, I’ll take the food back.”

“Big brother, I’m hungry.”

Because Julien tugged at his sleeve, Marco only huffed and grabbed the basket full of food. He really was a sister-complex type.

“It’s cold today. Go eat inside the carriage. Orléans, watch them so they don’t run off with the guns.”

“What? Aren’t you coming in with me, sir?”

“I’m just going to take a look. I’ll be fine alone.”

“But still… you could just send the kids away.”

“They probably don’t have homes, or they can’t return because of tax collectors. And I doubt they’ll leave before getting the gun anyway.”

“Then what are we supposed to do? We can’t keep them forever.”

“While we’re in Tillong, I’ll think about it. After they finish eating, go into town with them and help find me a sword I can use.”

Orléans muttered that he should have brought a proper butler from our household. I patted his shoulder, warning him to just do as told.

Then I exhaled deeply and walked toward Tillong Cathedral.

On the forest road leading to Tillong, the sound of relaxed hoofbeats and a man’s humming echoed quietly.

The man riding the horse was the same one who had played cards with Anton—the man who killed Tonali.

Bang!

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, cutting off both the hoofbeats and the humming.

The rider lost balance as if struck and fell from the horse to the ground.

“Got him!”

Someone shouted from the forest.

More than ten people rushed out of the woods, each holding guns, swords, or axes. They were a band of bandits.

The startled horse neighed and tried to run away alone, but the bandits grabbed its reins and forced it down. They quickly tore open the sacks on the saddle, rummaging frantically for valuables.

“Anything good?”

Someone asked from behind.

“Don’t know. We thought he was rich because of his clothes, but he’s broke.”

“Oh? Then how about this?”

At that moment, they stopped and turned—

Thud.

A head dropped to the ground and rolled.

“Gah! What is this?!”

One of the bandits screamed after recognizing it as their comrade.

The man standing there calmly shook blood off his sword.

“Take a good look at the cut. It’s really clean. I’d give it a 9 out of 10 myself. Don’t you think?”

“Weren’t you just shot… how are you—”

“I just acted like I was hit. If you fire a garbage shot and expect it to land, aren’t you the real thief? Ah, right—you basically are thieves anyway.”

The man smiled brightly at the terrified bandits.

Then another shadow moved quietly behind him. The bandits saw it but couldn’t even react.

Stab.

But it didn’t even touch the man.

He pulled the sword out of the attacker’s neck and sighed.

“That kind of move is maybe a 3 out of 10. Can’t you do better? I even went so far as to get shot for fun, and this kills the mood.”

He walked toward the remaining bandits, expression turning cold.

“You! Do you even know who we are?!”

the leader shouted.

The man stopped, scratching his nose.

“Am I supposed to know that?”

“You crazy bastard! Shoot him!”

Gunfire rang out again from the forest.

But the man moved as if he had predicted it.

“I’ll give that one a 5.”

He appeared right in front of the leader.

“What—what are you doing?! Kill him!”

The bandits rushed him, but they were on a completely different level. His sword sliced through their vital points with surgical precision. They couldn’t even scream before collapsing in blood.

The man watched them fall with satisfaction.

“Feels like my hands are sharp today. Too clean, maybe. How many points would you give that?”

He stepped through the blood-soaked ground toward the leader.

The leader trembled, glancing between the forest and the man.

The man sighed, clearly disappointed, then flicked a dagger toward where the leader was looking.

A scream came from above as someone fell from a tree.

“When someone asks you a question, answer properly. Don’t be rude.”

“P-please spare me.”

The leader dropped to his knees, begging.

“No, I asked how many points.”

“Ten! Ten points!”

“Out of how many?”

“Ten!”

The man smiled, satisfied.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

His expression brightened slightly.

“Tell me. Who do I look like?”

“What?”

“Same question as before. What’s my name?”

“I… you never told us…”

The man lowered his face to match the trembling leader’s gaze.

“Lashin Marshal.”

As soon as he said his name, the leader’s eyes widened.

“Now, say it again.”

“L-Lashin M-Marshall… Lashin Marshal!”

“Good. Remember it.”

Lashin gently stroked the leader’s face… then shoved his sword deep into his mouth.

“If anyone in the afterlife asks who killed you, answer politely.”

The leader died, choking on blood.

Lashin stood up and looked at the scattered corpses with mild disappointment. He collected his weapons, mounted his horse again, and slowly headed toward Tillong while humming.

“I wonder how entertaining you’ll be.”

“It’s been a long time since outsiders visited the cathedral.”

A priest of Tillong Cathedral said to me with a gentle smile.

“I believed that if one serves the Lord, one must visit Tillong Cathedral,” I replied.

“A truly admirable thought. I feared Tillong might be forgotten because of its unfortunate history, so I am deeply grateful to meet a brother who remembers us.”

The priest seemed genuinely pleased, even laughing warmly.

Guided by him, I toured the cathedral. It was relatively clean inside, but like the outside, cracks and damage covered the walls, floor, and ceiling.

“It looks like it needs repairs.”

I casually brought up money.

“We would love to restore it properly, but we simply don’t have enough funds.”

“Are donations and church fees low?”

“As you can see, most citizens here live day to day. They give what they can, but it’s far from enough for repairs. If a generous benefactor appeared, it would help greatly—but we have not met one yet.”

He subtly hinted at donations while watching my reaction.

I gave a generic response.

I briefly considered asking about taxes, but decided not to. They were clearly hiding something.

From what I’d seen of the White siblings, they weren’t lying—but that meant outsiders were being kept from interfering with the cathedral.

There was a high probability that something related to force or weapons was hidden here.

“I suppose I’ll have to take action.”

I said something the priest would like.

“Are you considering a donation?”

His eyes widened dramatically.

“I’ll think about it positively. But before that, may I look around alone?”

The priest hesitated. It wasn’t a difficult request, yet his reaction was cautious.

“You may inspect everywhere except the underground chapel.”

After a deep breath, he agreed and left.

“Of course. I never do what I’m told not to do.”

In truth, I only needed the underground chapel anyway.

After he left completely, I quickly moved through the cathedral, searching for it.

Not this place. Not that one.

I checked several rooms that looked like chapels but were used as storage. Given the warlike atmosphere, there were many medical supplies scattered around, giving the place a bleak feeling.

After checking more than four supposed underground chapels, I finally found it.

“This is it.”

A restricted rope blocked the entrance. Strange ancient text was written on the floor.

“Even if it’s ancient text, it’s still something I created.”

I began reading.

It described a wounded soldier asking what causes his suffering, and a king making a blood-bound covenant—words I recognized.

They were from Alexander Bartier, a character who sacrifices himself in the novel.

As I recalled the story centered on Christian, I had almost forgotten other characters’ roles.

This place clearly had something to do with Bartier’s ability.

The ability to charge into enemy lines, taking countless bullets with his body.

[Emergency Notification]

[Linked Mission: Place the covenant in the golden chalice at the Asyria Farm.]

[Reward: Key]

While I was thinking, a sudden linked mission appeared.

There was no doubt now.

Something related to combat power existed inside this chapel.

Good.

Now all that was left was to obtain the key, open the chapel, and gain power.