Chapter 62

The witch hunt had begun.

Rumors started circulating on a gloomy autumn evening, with light rain falling frequently. Carriages adorned with the archbishop's crest were reportedly picking up people one after another in the old city's alleys. The shadows of passersby grew sparse, and even the ruffians had vanished.

It wasn't just one or two people who had disappeared. Rumors suggested that more than ten had already been taken to an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of the old city. Despite the upcoming festival in the capital, the old city was enveloped in an unusual atmosphere.

"Shinobu, you should be careful too, you know."

Saying this, the glassblower Laurenz tilted his mug. The bruise around his eyes was from a big fight with his son, Hans. It was impressive enough that he had fought with Hans, who was being strangled by the guards, but even more impressive that the fight had ended in a draw.

Perhaps the rare family argument had sparked his appetite. He had already had seven beers, eating tempura and cooling his forehead with a wet towel.

"Be careful? From the witch hunt?"

"Exactly. They say it's random."

Gently restraining Laurenz, who was asking for an eighth beer, Shinobu placed her finger on her chin in thought. Why would they start a witch hunt? She had heard that it hadn't been done for a hundred years. She felt she had a decent understanding of the old city's affairs after living there for almost a year, but she was completely clueless about religious matters. It seemed similar to the religion she had learned about in history class, but upon closer inspection, it was entirely different.

"Unfortunately, Etvin isn't here at a time like this."

Nicolaus, who was serving hot sake with beef tendon, glanced resentfully at the corner counter where the deacon usually sat. Since the day the archbishop arrived, Etvin had vanished without a trace. If that calm deacon were here, he might have taken some action.

"This witch hunt talk is really unsettling."

"Everyone is scared, thinking it might be their turn next. And another plate of spaghetti, please."

Geaenot, who seemed to be in his usual mood, was apparently angry that his complaints to the archbishop as a city councilor hadn't gone well. It was like pushing against a door that wouldn't budge. Without the other party at the negotiating table, even the most eloquent arguments were useless. The fact that he was using more Tabasco than usual on his spaghetti, which he usually valued for its balance, suggested he was a bit frustrated.

"Can't you do something to stop it, Geaenot?"

"We are protesting, but the archbishop's side claims ignorance. Normally, the old city is a direct imperial territory, so the archbishop can't just intervene. If the matter escalates, it becomes a political issue between the empire and the Holy Kingdom. That's why they're conducting this mock witch hunt outside the city walls, where the city council's authority is ambiguous."

During the time of the previous city council president, Baxeshof, there had been a proposal to have the archbishop also serve as the head of the old city's cathedral. If that had happened, the archbishop, who otherwise had no influence in the old city, would have had significant power. The archbishop's side had strongly requested it, but the proposal was dropped due to a certain incident. In hindsight, it was probably the right decision. If they had allowed it, the witch hunt might have started much earlier.

"What about asking the lord who governs outside the city walls?"

"Lord Sacknusenbruck has connections with the Holy Inquisition. He should have resolved the matter by now, but there are rumors that he is ill and bedridden."

"Nothing seems to be going well."

Sighing lightly, Shinobu looked at Nobu. When the rumors of the witch hunt began, Nobu had sent Hermine and Efa home. He judged that it would be better for them to stay home until the situation calmed down. He had also advised them not to go out much during such turbulent times.

Besides, there was no need to worry about a shortage of staff. Despite it being a time when the place would usually be full, today there were only three regular customers.

The old city's residents clearly weren't in the mood for casual drinking in this atmosphere.

"Speaking of witches, the mushrooms in the tempura have disappeared, haven't they?"

"It's just being cautious."

As Shinobu responded to Laurenz, who was breaking a shrimp tempura in half, she recalled hearing that the old city had a tradition of avoiding mushrooms due to past witch hunts. It was a beautiful season for mushrooms, but in this situation, it was better not to serve them. Everyone felt uneasy, and Shinobu was no exception. She didn't understand the criteria for being taken away as a witch, nor the concept of a witch hunt itself.

The one saving grace was that the old city's residents also found the witch hunt unsettling. None of the regulars, including Shinobu, had ever supported it, considering it an outdated and shameful part of the past.

"Shinobu, aren't you and the others going back to your hometown?"

Nicolaus asked while poking at his dish. Only then did Shinobu realize that she had no intention of returning to Japan. She had thought the same during the Triaznamara incident. It seemed she had grown quite fond of the old city. It didn't feel like a different world at all. Besides, even if she returned to Japan, she wouldn't truly be going back to her family home.

"My hometown is far away, indeed."

Shinobu smiled ambiguously, unable to add that it was also far away in a spiritual sense. Nobu seemed to shrug slightly, but it might have been her imagination.

"I'll continue running the shop here. Besides, the witch hunt might end sooner than expected."

Laurenz laughed heartily after Nobu poured him his eighth beer. Shinobu tried to laugh along, but the plate she was wiping fell to the floor with a loud noise. The cheap plate she had liked was shattered.

"Are you okay?"

Nodding slightly at Nobu's concerned look, Shinobu crouched to pick up the shards. A sharp pain pricked her fingertip, and she saw blood. Such an occurrence was rare. Sucking her index finger, Shinobu felt a strange unease rising within her, threatening to overwhelm her. The night in the old city was growing deeper, and dawn seemed far away.

---

The rain that started at dawn had turned into wet snow. Somewhere, a snow crow cawed. Snowflakes fell like white makeup on the fields where winter wheat seeds lay dormant.

The vast black soil fields, though expansive, were not enough to feed the old city's residents. To support their hearty appetites, the old city purchased various supplies from the surrounding areas. A black carriage, adorned with the district archbishop's crest, was smoothly making its way along the well-maintained road.

The farmers it passed bowed respectfully upon seeing the crest. However, the archbishop, who should have been receiving such respect, was not in the carriage. Instead, a small man named Damian was driving it.

Everything was going smoothly, perhaps too smoothly. Gaining the archbishop's favor and reviving the witch hunt in the old city was his goal. His target was the cursed izakaya, Nobu. The loss of his positions at the Brandano baron's house and the Baxeshof trading company was all due to that izakaya. Revenge required more than half-hearted measures.

The carriage slipped through the main gate and smoothly entered the old city's streets. With the district archbishop's crest, there were no unnecessary questions.

The carriage traveled along the cobblestone streets and stopped in front of the most prestigious inn in the old city, the "Four-Winged Eagle." If he had been a wanted man due to his association with Baxeshof, he would have been turned away, but Damian was welcomed as if it were the most natural thing.

"What is this, Damian? What is this?"

Enrico, who was quite intelligent but obsessed with strange divinations, confronted Damian as soon as he entered the room. The archbishop had picked him up from a desk job where he organized documents.

"What is it, Enrico? We are in the presence of His Grace. Please calm down."

"How can I calm down? The city is abuzz with rumors of a witch hunt, and the old city's city council has filed a protest, Damian."

"Rumors are just rumors. It hasn't actually started."

It was true that people were being gathered at an old mansion on the outskirts. It was also true that he had orchestrated it to appear like a witch hunt. He wanted to stir up fear and direct suspicion towards the izakaya Nobu. The goal was to cause reputational damage through rumors, but it wasn't going as well as he had hoped. Dealing with a popular establishment was tricky.

However, Damian was not foolish enough to start a witch hunt on his own initiative. The archbishop's authority was required to conduct a witch hunt, and he couldn't act without it.

"And what about His Grace?"

"He is in prayer. He is before the statue of the goddess. He should be finished soon."

Shrugging slightly and brushing the snow from his shoulder, Damian sat in an armchair. The fire in the ornate fireplace was still burning brightly. The buildings in this area were built to withstand harsh winters, but Enrico, born and raised in the Holy Kingdom, seemed to find it quite cold. He was wearing an embarrassingly thick coat, even though it was still autumn. One could only imagine how he would fare in winter.

The same could be said for the archbishop. Born and raised in the warm southern regions, the winters here must have been unbearable. Damian's current power came from exploiting the archbishop's desire to leave this place. After the lager smuggling incident, Damian, having lost his patron, had sought refuge with the archbishop.

He had tried to use the fact that one of the archbishop's subordinates had defaulted on a loan from the Baxeshof trading company as leverage, but to his surprise, he was readily accepted.

A starving dragon will not eat a cornered bird. If he left the old city, the reach of the officials would be limited, and with the protection of the Holy Inquisition, he could avoid minor pursuits. He quickly realized that the archbishop, born and raised in the Holy Kingdom, wanted to return home.

The cause was more about the cold and the food than a lack of luxury. The potato-centric diet in the northern empire was a living hell for the archbishop, who was accustomed to luxury.

"Ah, Damian, you're here."

"I am honored to see you, Your Grace."

Emerging from the specially arranged prayer room, Archbishop Rodrigo was a large man. To the not-so-tall Damian, he seemed like a giant. His build was substantial, and he was tall. Eating only potatoes must have been difficult for such a large man.

"Enrico has already told you about the witch hunt, I assume."

"Yes, Your Grace. Even if it's just a rumor, I understand your concern. I have already explained to Enrico that it is merely hearsay. The gathering of people at the old mansion on the outskirts may have given the impression of a witch hunt to the common folk."

Rodrigo nodded and immediately started drinking hot wine, pouring it himself. He seemed to need the warmth more than the alcohol. The cup was a gift from Damian, lined with lead on the inside, which made even the poor-quality imperial wine taste sweet and smooth.

Damian inwardly sneered. The archbishop was an excellent scholar but a poor schemer. When Damian suggested he would search for witches on the archbishop's behalf, he readily agreed.

The archbishop's unexpected arrival when Damian reported the possibility of witches in the old city was a miscalculation, but it could be managed. The archbishop's current goal was to find witches. He hadn't detailed his plans, but he likely intended to blame the resurgence of witches on the corruption of the Holy Inquisition. If Damian were in the archbishop's position, he would do the same.

Finding witches and returning to the Holy Kingdom was a lofty goal, and Damian couldn't predict if it would succeed. However, the archbishop's enthusiasm for the search was genuine. He had invested a significant amount of money in the investigation, and Damian was reaping the benefits.

Hylhitegott, who currently held real power in the Holy Kingdom, was known to be a sharp individual. Rodrigo finding witches alone wouldn't be enough to challenge him, and even securing a vacant cardinal position would be difficult.

"So, Damian, I understand that the rumors of a witch hunt are baseless. What are your next steps in the search for witches?"

"There is a shop suspected of being a witch's den. We will raid it."

"Hmm, a witch's den. Are there actually witches there?"

Behind the archbishop, Enrico seemed to want to say something but stopped. Given his lack of enthusiasm for the witch hunt, he was likely about to voice a trivial objection.

"There is no need to worry. The shop has various suspicious rumors. There are witches there."

"Don't misunderstand, Damian. As a clergyman, I hope there are no witches. If the shop is not a witch's den, that would be a good thing."

"Of course, Your Grace."

While responding, Damian inwardly cursed the large, dim-witted man. Pretending to be concerned was pointless. The archbishop's long-standing search for witches was an open secret. Perhaps his intelligence didn't extend to his entire body. A light palanquin is easier to carry, but a fool is difficult to handle. As long as the fool remained a fool, it was fine, but being dragged into his schemes was foolish.

Still, Damian had prepared for such contingencies. The people gathered on the outskirts were a backup in case something went wrong. He had already made arrangements with the regent of the Eastern Kingdom's princess. Once he crossed the border, he could do as he pleased.

Of course, it would be best if nothing went wrong. Taking revenge on the izakaya Nobu and settling in the old city with the archbishop would be entertaining. The current city council's unity was unusually rigid, but it could be broken from the inside.

However, his sweet fantasies were shattered by the archbishop's unexpected words.

"Then, Damian, let's go to the izakaya Nobu now."

"…Now, Your Grace?"

Damian nearly fainted at Rodrigo's casual tone. He had planned to gradually set up traps that would make it impossible for Nobu to deny involvement. Using ruffians, staging a fake food poisoning incident, and spreading misleading documents linking the izakaya's mushroom dishes to witches were all part of the plan. The rumors of witch-related fears in the city were just the beginning.

"But, Your Grace, isn't it a bit premature?"

The archbishop frowned at Damian's strained voice.

"It's best to confirm as soon as possible whether there are witches or not."

"Yes, but—"

"You seem busy with other matters. Have you been cooped up in the mansion, eating only potatoes? It's better to finish difficult tasks quickly. Come, let's go now. We have a carriage ready."

With the archbishop directly leading the way, Damian had no choice but to follow. He gritted his teeth and stood up. It would be fine. He could still pull it off. The izakaya Nobu was a witch's den. He repeated this to himself as he climbed into the carriage. Riding next to the large archbishop, the same carriage seemed different. Filled with anxiety and frustration, the black carriage smoothly set off.