Her Majesty’s Swarm - Volume 3 - Chapter 9

Just Deserts 

The Popedom of Frantz relentlessly continued its persecution of the heretics. One after another, its citizens were caught by the inquisitors and put to death. 

“This is horrifying. They’re still hunting down heretics...” 

“Such a tragedy. I feel like their definition of who is and who isn’t a heretic is becoming less clear as time goes on.” 

A young couple in the capital of Saania was discussing the state of affairs. Their names were Gina and Frederico. This happy couple was well-known in their neighborhood for running a local bakery. Their bakery was once famous for its sugar buns, but they were currently forbidden from selling them, as they were considered a luxury. 

“I heard Mr. Biliotti from the Merchants’ Guild was burned at the stake recently. For all we know, someone could tattle on us next.” 

“D-Don’t say things like that, Frederico! We’ve been abiding by each and every tenet to the letter!” 

Anxiety and distrust were spreading among the populace. There was no way of knowing when another citizen might report you or crack under the duress of torture and pin their sins on another. Like Soviet Russia during its great purge, the people could not trust their neighbors and were fraught with doubt. This couple could trust each other, but not anyone else. 

“Umm, excuse me...” 

It was then that a girl stepped into their store. 

“Yes?” 

“Well, I’m a refugee from the Dukedom of Schtraut, and I’m looking for a place to work,” the girl squeaked. 

Frederico sighed. “I see. I’m very sorry to hear that, but we’re not in any condition to—” 

“Come now, darling, let’s hire her. The inquisitors might choose to overlook us if we do a little good.” 

“All right, then, let’s put you to work,” Frederico said with a sigh. “Do you have any experience working in a bakery?” 

“No, but I did work as a waitress back in Schtraut. I’m sure I can help you when it comes to serving customers!” the girl replied enthusiastically. 

“All right, that should be good enough. What’s your name, miss?” 

“It’s Maëlys. Maëlys Maurice. A pleasure to make your acquaintance!” She graced them with a quick, polite curtsy. 

“All right, Maëlys, I hope you enjoy your time working here.” 

“Thank you!” 

This sort of pleasant exchange between a refugee from Schtraut and citizens of the Popedom was quite rare. Most people avoided them, fearing that contact with refugees would only land them in trouble with the inquisition. The refugees likewise worried that needlessly getting involved with the civilians would draw the attention of the inquisitors. 

“I’m really looking forward to working with you!” Maëlys exclaimed. 

Thus, Maëlys became a new employee in this little Saania bakery. The sight of this cheerful, hardworking girl attracted numerous customers, and Frederico’s bakery saw loads of foot traffic despite only being allowed to serve plain bread. 

But later down the line, this course of events would only lead to tragedy. 

The Cardinals’ Council was a regular assembly of all the cardinals in the Popedom of Frantz. Typically, the pope would also be present for the council, but Benedictus III was exhausted from his duties and therefore hadn’t been able to attend as of late. 

“In light of the attack on Fennelia,” said Paris, “I’m afraid sending our navy into Schtraut is now effectively impossible. If we can’t mobilize our forces to handle the pirates, we won’t be able to secure the sea routes. And as you all know, the costs of bare necessities in this country are already on the rise.” 

The naval base in Fennelia had been attacked by the Arachnea’s queen, who had reduced the port city to an unoccupied heap of buildings and bodies. This dealt a considerable blow to Frantz’s navy, which meant invading Schtraut’s territories by sea was no longer a viable option. Many of the navy’s sailors and officers had perished, leaving empty, unmanned ships in their wake. It didn’t matter how many ships they had if they lacked the manpower to operate them. 

“No, I believe we should still go ahead and attack Schtraut with the forces we have left,” said one of the cardinals. 

“But our navy is crippled.” Paris gaped at the other cardinal in disbelief. “Trying to send out the meager forces that remain would be suicide. I’m against the idea.” 

“Then are we supposed to sit back and wait for the enemy to come to us? Cardinal Pamphilj, I’m afraid you’re not being assertive enough. Or perhaps we ought to interpret this as a lack of faith?” 

“That’s right. You’re under suspicion of heresy, Cardinal Pamphilj.” 

Paris was shocked. It had been his idea to persecute the nation’s heretics, so he’d never expected that the blades of the inquisition would be turned toward him. He’d assumed that all the cardinals, himself included, were exempt from the threat of the inquisition. After all, his heart was filled to the brim with faith. 

He’d only suggested hunting down the heretics as a performative gesture. It was a way to show their neighbors that the Popedom was ready for battle and unwilling to submit, despite the fact that the Empire of Nyrnal had rejected their alliance and that they were ever-threatened by the legion of monsters. It had all been just for show, certainly. 

No... The truth ran much deeper. With the loss of their creditor, the Dukedom of Schtraut, the Popedom was now free of its debts. However, that also meant the Dukedom wasn’t there to lend any more money. 

While the Eastern Trade Union was a wealthy nation, it dared not lend Frantz a thing after what had happened to Schtraut. Its merchants were perfectly happy to be stingy with their coffers if it meant they wouldn’t be abandoned and devoured by monsters. 

Additionally, the Popedom had denounced the Eastern Trade Union all too many times, proclaiming that the latter nation’s conduct was an affront to God. This of course meant that the people of the Eastern Trade Union detested Frantz. Both the leaders of the country and its citizens viewed the Popedom as an enemy. 

Yet the Popedom was in dire need of funds. Faced with the threats of the Empire of Nyrnal and the monsters from Schtraut, their military needed money. And the clergy, who lived in luxury, also required financial support. 

Hence, Paris had ordered an inquisition—one that stole wealth from any affluent citizens who weren’t part of the clergy. These people would be condemned as heretics and burned at the stake while the inquisitors confiscated all their funds and assets. Moreover, since the inquisition forbade all manner of luxuries, the country’s expenses would also lessen. 

The heretic hunt was both an act meant to show off to the surrounding countries and a method of stabilizing the Popedom’s economy. Thus, Paris never expected that he himself would be accused of heresy. As a high-ranking member of the clergy, he also believed his funds would be protected. After all, this wasn’t really a matter of faith or piety to begin with; it was a practical solution to a problem. 

“Erm, very well... We will round up our remaining naval forces and invade the Dukedom’s former territories. I am all in favor of dealing with the monstrous menace, I assure you.” His tail between his legs, Paris agreed to go ahead with the operation as a way to placate the other cardinals. 

“And since you were the one to come up with the plan, I say we entrust you with its execution. You will draft the operation and take full responsibility for it,” said one cardinal. 

“I agree. I expect much from his endeavors. I’m sure he will come up with a wonderful operation and drive the insects out of the Dukedom,” added another. 

A sense of dread settled in the pit of Paris’ stomach. He already believed that using the navy to invade Schtraut was a lost cause, but the other cardinals didn’t seem to understand that. They earnestly believed in this impossible dream of victory. 

“I will do everything in my power to succeed, but do keep in mind that luck can be a major factor when it comes to war. I implore you not to forget this,” Paris said, knowing how likely he was to fail. 

“How could luck ever work against you when the God of Light is on your side? Do you not believe in His protection, Cardinal Pamphilj?” One of the cardinals glared at him. 

“Well, err, of course I do.” 

“Then it’s decided. We expect good news, Cardinal.” 

Trepidation still churning in his gut, Paris meekly returned to his office. 

“I am the right hand of the pope, yet even I’m being threatened by the inquisition?!” he shouted, slamming his fist against his desk. “This is wrong! This is all wrong! I can’t possibly be a heretic! I have given everything to the God of Light! How could I be a traitor to the faith?!” 

He had done all this in order to secure the nation’s wealth and improve international relations. The idea that he could be regarded as a heretic was absurd. This inquisition was evolving into something too different from what he’d originally planned. 

The original inquisition that had taken place during Frantz’s dark ages had been conducted to compel faith in the God of Light. This one was different; it was but one scene in a larger political play. It just so happened that it also helped whittle down Frantz’s population just as it was growing a bit too large. 

Schtraut’s refugees and merchants, driven out of the Eastern Trade Union, sought refuge in the Popedom in large numbers, making it more of a bazaar than a religious center. Paris had pushed for the inquisition in hopes that Frantz’s reputation would worsen, making it much less attractive as a sanctuary. However, he had never anticipated that it would come back to bite him like this. 

“That’s it... I’ve got no choice.” Paris reached out and rang a bell on his desk. 

Right away, a nun walked into the room. “What is it, Your Eminence?” 

“Call the head of the Mystical Research Division. Tell him it’s urgent.” 

Half an hour later, this very man arrived at Paris’ office. 

“I’ve heard there may be some urgent business to attend to, Your Eminence. What could be weighing so heavily upon your shoulders?” 

“I want you to look into Lord Bernardelli, the man in charge of the Department of Punition. Dig up a scandal... any scandal you can find. No matter how minor it may be. Actually, scratch that. Find something big. I need to drag him down from his current position.” 

“Your Eminence, is this a personal request?” 

The Department of Punition was the organization responsible for upholding the inquisition. 

“I ask this in the name of the God of Light and for the sake of His Holiness Pope Benedictus III,” Paris replied. “I’ve received information through my personal channels that Lord Bernardelli is using the inquisition to conduct corrupt activities behind our backs. My informants tell me he’s been embezzling the assets of those who are punished.” 

“I see. A severe crime indeed, and it must be stopped.” The head of the Mystical Research Division inclined his head. “We’ll do everything in our power to investigate this matter.” 

Put simply, Paris was ordering this man to fabricate a story that would indict Bernardelli for corruption. Ever since he himself had been under suspicion, Paris had lost faith in the inquisition and was doing everything he could to avoid finding himself at the stake. At his core, he was a complete and utter coward. 

“We’ll get started right away, then. It should take no more than three or four weeks for our investigation to bear fruit.” 

“Excellent. You are dismissed.” 

Paris felt he could now rest easy. Should the inquisitors lose their authority, his position as a cardinal, not to mention his life, would be safe and secure. 

“I should make one more play, just to be on the safe side,” he mused aloud. 

He then proceeded to call upon a second guest: Lord Bernardelli. 

Six months had passed since Maëlys started working at Gina’s and Frederico’s bakery, and she was now practically family to them. She worked her hardest, always serving their customers with a bright smile on her face, which did wonders to light up these dark times for anyone who saw it. Thanks to that, she had become something of a local celebrity. 

One day, Frederico found Maëlys passionately writing a letter. 

“Whatcha writing there, Maëlys?” 

“Oh, a letter to my parents. They’re in a refugee camp near the border.” 

“I didn’t know you could read and write. That’s impressive.” 

“The priest in the church near where I used to live taught me, but I only know a little.” 

The literacy rate in this world was fairly low. No matter the country, most commoners only knew how to read what was absolutely essential for their day-to-day lives. 

“What’re you telling them?” 

“Just how nice it is working in your bakery! Truth be told, I was the only one who got a permit to leave the refugee camp, so I came all the way here by myself. I figured my parents might be worried about me.” 

The Popedom accepted refugees from Schtraut under the order of Pope Benedictus III, but the number of people allowed into the country was limited. The authorities were worried that if too many refugees were to flood into the country, they might disturb the public order or provide cover for enemies to sneak in. Indeed, refugees who couldn’t find employment often had to resort to petty crime in order to survive. As such, the Popedom was cautious with how many people it was willing to let in. 

Once the Popedom had been bombarded with requests from families looking to enter the country, it permitted one family member to cross the border. As such, many refugees who made it into Frantz had to live far away from their loved ones. 

“Maëlys has been writing letters every day. Haven’t you noticed?” Gina asked. 

“Really? I had no idea.” 

In fact, most of Maëlys’ modest wages were spent on remittance and postal fees. 

“You know what? We’ll pay your postal fees from now on. It’s only natural you’d worry about your family in these circumstances. Business has been booming thanks to you, so it’s the least we can do.” 

“What? No! I wouldn’t dream of asking such a thing! It’s my problem, after all...” 

“Oh, hush. You’re part of our family now, Maëlys.” 

Even in this savage world, people reached out to one another, filled with kindness and sympathy. 

“Excuse me.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by someone at the front of the bakery. 

“Yes? I’m sorry, but we’re already closed for the day,” Frederico said, turning to face their guest. 

“Oh, I see. And here I’d just heard the sugar buns you sell are to die for.” 

Standing there was a fourteen-year-old girl, accompanied by a female knight wearing a full suit of armor. They were gazing at the pastries on display with a bitter expression on their faces. 

“Oh, my apologies. We don’t serve sugar buns anymore. It’s considered heresy.” Frederico’s tongue soured on the word “heresy,” as though he couldn’t bear to get it out. 

“Pastries are heresy now? Well, isn’t that something. What is this world coming to?” the girl replied, a small smirk on her lips. “By the way, is that little lady there your daughter? Hmm, perhaps not, judging by your hair colors...” 

“No, Maëlys is an employee here. She’s like a daughter to us, though,” Frederico replied warmly. 

“Oh, all right, then. Well, since you’re not selling those buns, I guess I came here for nothing. Let’s bounce, Sérignan.” 

With that, the two left the bakery. 

“The inquisition’s really doing a number on this country, isn’t it?” 

“So it seems, Your Majesty.” 

The ones who had visited Frederico’s bakery were none other than Grevillea, Queen of the Arachnea, and her loyal knight, Sérignan. 

“They’re executing their own subjects in large numbers. At this rate, the whole country will collapse on its own even if we just kick back and watch. Not that it’s my intention to do so.” 

Grevillea took a long look at the capital city. 

“Saania sure is pretty. Almost feels bad to ruin it. But we’re going to tear it down completely, for we are the Arachnea.” 

The queen turned and left Saania behind. And while she was scouting out the enemy territory, things were beginning to move within Schtraut’s territories as well. 

“So, the enemy’s going to launch an attack on our shores with what’s left of their navy?” Roland asked. 

“That’s what it looks like,” said Lysa. 

He let out a groan. “I guess the pirates couldn’t hold them off completely.” 

“Well, umm, Her Majesty says their chances of pulling off an invasion are slim now that we’ve gotten rid of a bunch of ’em!” Lysa was doing her best to sound encouraging. 

“I see. I’m sure this is more of a political move than anything else.” He paused to pick up some information from the queen through the collective consciousness. “Oh dear, our queen can be cruel sometimes.” 

Only the Arachnea was aware that half the people in the Cardinals’ Council were currently controlled by Parasite Swarms. The queen had used the infected cardinals to lay a trap for Paris Pamphilj. Paris had hastily agreed to go through with the landing operation despite the fact that neither the general of the ground forces nor the admiral of the navy believed it was a good idea. They had few ships deployed at sea, and many of the surviving crew members were terrified of the monsters and refused to take part in the mission. 

Word of the massacre in Fennelia was spreading, and the sailors were terribly shaken by it all. Seeing the dismembered remains and puddles of flesh had caused them bouts of vomiting and endless quivers. They couldn’t imagine what sort of enemy could do that to human beings. 

Nevertheless, Paris was about to proceed with the naval operation. He was willingly sacrificing their soldiers and sailors in order to preserve his honor and save his skin. 

“What’s our objective?” Lysa asked. 

“We’re to intercept the enemy. Frantz’s forces are planning to anchor at the old capital, Doris. They know their navy isn’t strong enough to invade all of Schtraut, so they’ll try to retake just the capital. At the very least, they’re hoping for a symbolic victory.” 

The enemy’s sights were fixed on Doris, which happened to be precisely where Lysa and Roland were having this conversation. 

“Her Majesty is occupied with her scouting mission, so it falls to us to handle things here,” he added. 

“It’s a good thing we have Her Majesty’s orders to rely on. As long as we follow them, we’ve got this in the bag.” 

At the moment, their queen was observing the enemy’s movements from the inside. Roland’s group was left to guard Schtraut and handle the incoming invasion. 

“If we follow through with this, I pity what’ll become of the enemy.” 

“Yeah, but they deserve it. Even if they’re pitiful soldiers out on a hopeless operation,” said Lysa. 

If successful, the queen’s plan would deliver the enemy a crushing blow. 

“You’re right. Anyone who opposes the Arachnea deserves to suffer. And honestly, the thought of Frantz’s men waltzing into my homeland as if they own the place really irks me.” 

Frantz had promised to help the Dukedom of Schtraut but only betrayed it instead. Thinking about those turncoats marching into Schtraut greatly annoyed Roland. It was as if they were finally making good on their promise to the Dukedom... only far too late. 

“Let’s give ’em all we’ve got, Roland!” Lysa chirped. 

“Yes. In Her Majesty’s name.” 

Soon after, the Masquerade Swarms hidden in Frantz reported that the Popedom’s fleet had finally sailed. The journey from Frantz’s naval base to Doris would take roughly two days. Within that time frame, Roland and Lysa would make their preparations for the upcoming operation... 

And this operation hinged on the debut of a new unit the Arachnea had secretly unlocked. 

At this very moment, the Popedom’s navy was sailing toward Doris, capital of the former Dukedom of Schtraut. Frantz had deployed its precious large transport ships, which ferried a force of 5,000 men. If things worked out as they hoped, this army would be large enough to retake Doris. 

The Arachnea’s queen scoffed at the idea. Not only had the enemy sent a mere 5,000 men, but they bore light arms and armor. With such armaments, they would be butchered by even a lesser force of Ripper Swarms. Aside from that, the soldiers had no idea that a trap had been laid for them in Doris. 

“Looks clear so far, sir!” reported one of the sailors. “At this rate, we should be able to stage a landing without incident.” 

“We mustn’t be careless, though,” replied the admiral of the fleet. “There’s no telling what might happen, given that the enemy is mostly unknown to us.” 

He had seen the massacre in Fennelia. How citizens and soldiers alike had been torn to shreds or melted into puddles of fleshy ooze. Therefore, the admiral knew that the enemies they were up against were beyond human comprehension. 

The foul stench. The sight of people being dissolved into liquid. The screams and cries of people begging to be spared. It had been a nightmare. They were now up against true terror—fear incarnate capable of indiscriminate massacre. 

While the admiral wasn’t sure how he’d survived the slaughter in Fennelia, he would soon come to learn a simple truth: one cannot escape the clutches of the grim reaper. 

“But sir, the enemy doesn’t have a navy. They can’t harm us until we land.” 

“And despite not having a navy, they destroyed Fennelia.” Glaring at his subordinate, the admiral shook his head. 

Their enemy might have been a legion of monsters, but those monsters were still capable of using ships. If they went to battle without considering this caveat, they would surely suffer a terrible blow. 

“Sailor! Any signs of trouble ahead?!” 

“Yes, sir! I can see a number of small vessels floating near our landing point!” 

“Small vessels, you say...?” 

“The enemy may have used them to attack Doris. Maybe they got desperate and thought to use them to block our path.” 

“That’s the only thing I can think of, too. Those small vessels can’t do anything to us otherwise.” 

As terrifying as the monsters themselves were, they wouldn’t be able to stop Frantz’s proud navy with boats so tiny they practically could be pushed over. Even if there happened to be monsters hiding inside, they’d sink once the fleet’s ships bashed into the vessels. At least, that was what the naval crew believed. 

But when one of the Popedom’s ships rammed into a little boat, a loud explosion erupted on the water as the boat blew up. The large ship that had been caught in the blast began to sink. As it sank, the ship behind it bumped into it, damaged its keel, and started sinking as well. 

It wasn’t just one of the small boats that exploded; the others began bursting one by one, and despite the sailors’ attempts to steer clear of them, the large ships took serious damage. The shockwaves sent the men flying overboard and into the water. As flames overtook the water’s surface, the drowning men floundered, begging for help. 

“What is the meaning of this?! What the hell is going on here?!” exclaimed the admiral as he gaped at the sinking ships. 

They were currently under attack by the Arachnea’s brand-new units: Fire Swarms. A Fire Swarm possessed two abilities. First, it could spew a high-temperature gas at the enemy. The attack was powerful, but its damage per second was low. If an Arachnea player wasn’t careful, her Fire Swarms might be killed before they could defeat the enemy. 

Secondly, this Swarm could self-destruct. It shared this ability with the Masquerade Swarm but far exceeded it in sheer firepower. One burst could easily destroy an enemy’s defensive fortifications. 

This was the unit Queen Grevillea had prepared for this battle. The Fire Swarms had been employed as mines to prevent the enemy fleet from landing. This sort of action wasn’t available in the game, but Grevillea had improvised for a real-world strategy. 

While it meant that all these Swarms would be sacrificed, self-destruction was an inherent part of their value to begin with. Taking away the thing they did best would be the worst insult imaginable. To that end, she chose to give them this chance to show off their value as a final parting gift. 

“Half the enemy vessels have sunk,” Roland said quietly, watching the Fire Swarms wreak havoc on Frantz’s navy. 

Doris’ shores were the very picture of hell. No matter where one looked, ships were sinking, burning, and colliding against other ships. The naval fleet now had less than half its original numbers. 

“It looks like they’re still going to try to land. They’re lowering boats into the water,” Lysa said, her keen eyes catching every move the enemy made. 

“Indeed. Those fools still intend to go through with it,” remarked Roland, peering through his binoculars. “Are we ready to repel them, Miss Lysa?” 

“Yep, we sure are.” 

The elven girl already had a flaming arrow fixed to her bow, and she was taking aim at the enemy boats. 

“Open fire, then.” 

“You got it, Roland!” Lysa said, letting the arrow loose. 

Her arrow hit the first boat, which caught fire almost immediately. The sailors on board scrambled to scoop up water and put out the fire, but they were quickly and unceremoniously sniped by Lysa. In no time at all, the boat burned and sank into the water. 

Ever since becoming a Swarm, Lysa’s marksmanship had noticeably improved. She could easily pull back the strings of bows the size of ballistas, and she was capable of shooting massive arrows in sets of three, killing three targets with each shot. 

Frantz’s already-cornered navy was then assaulted by a barrage of stingers from Toxic Swarms. The lightly armored troops were easily pierced by the projectiles, and they melted into puddles of molten flesh. 

“I’ll deal with anyone you and the Toxic Swarms don’t kill,” Roland told Lysa. 

The landing operation continued even under heavy fire. Now that the chain of command had crumbled, there was no one to call off the attack. But any sailors who landed on Doris’ shores were intercepted by Roland and a force of Ripper Swarms. The sailors were no match for them, and Roland’s longsword quickly cut down the troops. 

“Aaaaaaah!” 

Roland, too, had grown stronger after becoming a Swarm. His slashes cut the enemy sailors in half, and even when they tried to fight back, he easily dodged their swipes and defeated them. Frantz’s men fell dead one after another, their corpses littering Doris’ shores. Before long, the landing force of 5,000 was reduced to a mere handful of survivors. Backs to the sea, they aimed their weapons in every direction, unable to surrender. 

“If you abhor this turn of events, blame the one who ordered you to take up this hopeless battle in the first place,” Roland said coldly. A split second later, he and the Ripper Swarms finished them off. 

Thus, the battle came to an end. The admiral, who had counted his blessings for escaping death, now slumbered in the bosom of the sea. 

“We’re finished on this end, Roland,” Lysa reported. 

“Yes... I believe they’ve learned their lesson, albeit the hard way.” 

The attack staged by Frantz’s navy had ended in total failure. Naturally, it would be Paris who would have to answer for it... but he’d already taken measures to shirk this responsibility. 

“Cardinal Pamphilj! How do you intend to atone for this crushing defeat?!” 

In the next Cardinals’ Council, the other cardinals demanded that Paris take responsibility for the failed landing operation. 

“I don’t believe I’m at fault here,” Paris said flatly. “My plan was perfect. It only failed because someone leaked the details to an outside force. In other words, what sealed the navy’s fate was espionage.” 

Paris then turned his gaze toward Lord Bernardelli, head of the Department of Punition, prompting the man to speak. 

“According to our reports, a spy has infiltrated Saania,” Lord Bernardelli explained. “They’ve been sending letters to the border, leaking information about our internal proceedings every day. We are currently investigating the matter, but there can be no doubt that this is the work of a heretic.” 

“There you have it. The problem lies with the Department of Punition, who failed to discover the spy. In addition, I’ve got proof that Lord Bernardelli was appropriating goods and funds confiscated by the inquisitors. I’ve tasked the Mystical Research Division with investigating the matter; their report is here for your perusal.” 

Paris snapped his fingers, after which a few nuns entered the room and distributed documents among the other cardinals. 

“What?! Lord Bernardelli, you’ve taken this much money from the inquisition?!” one of the cardinals cried, incredulous. 

“N-No! I didn’t! This is defamation!” Lord Bernardelli called as he shrank back in surprise. 

“Now that I’m sure the cause of our defeat is clear to you,” Paris said, smiling with satisfaction, “I must remind you that I am not to blame.” 

“Lord Bernardelli, have you discovered the identity of the spy?!” 

“Yes! Yes, of course! We at the Department of Punition are staunch believers in the God of Light, and thanks to His guidance, we’ve found the spy. This heretic is the cause of all our troubles!” 

“Then Cardinal Pamphilj need not be held accountable for this fiasco?” 

“Nay, Cardinal. The navy’s failure is not my fault,” Paris asserted. He was desperately hoping to escape punishment. “We must burn this spy and have them pay for their sins. After that, we must make preparations for our next battle. Unfortunately, the enemy has grown stronger, and our fleet has been destroyed. Another maritime assault will be impossible, so we will have to stage a land invasion. Any objections?” 

The other cardinals bitterly shook their heads. 

“We will investigate the matter of Lord Bernardelli’s embezzlement at a later date,” said one of them. 

“I’ve done nothing of the sort!” Lord Bernardelli protested. 

“Now, now,” said Paris, waggling a finger. “I believe we can call this council adjourned. We must unite as we strive for victory. For now, we will execute the spy. And until we can ascertain to what degree the accusations toward Lord Bernardelli are true, we will suspend all other activities regarding the inquisition.” 

Thus, Paris escaped responsibility for his actions. All the blame was pinned on Lord Bernardelli and the alleged spy. Inevitably, however, things did not end so smoothly... 

In Saania’s main plaza, the inquisition was punishing an accused heretic. 

“This heretic has conspired with an enemy to the faith, endangering us all! She will pay for her sins as she is purged in the fires of God’s anger!” So declared the white-robed inquisitors as they dragged their victim out into the open. 

“You’re wrong! I’m not a heretic! I believe in the God of Light!” 

The one being condemned for heresy was none other than the young Maëlys. Her hands were bound in chains, and her clothes had been torn off. She was being forced to stumble naked to the stake in the center of the plaza. 

“Wait! You’re wrong! She only wrote letters to her family!” Frederico cried out in protest. 

“That’s right! She’s not a heretic!” Gina shouted. 

They knew her letters were being sent to her parents in the refugee camp by the border, and so they were confident that these charges were false. 

“Shut up, or you’ll be tried for heresy as well!” an inquisitor barked at them. 

“Ngh...” Frederico took a step back. 

A crowd of people was gathered around the plaza, each person also questioning the impending execution. 

“Is that sweet girl really a spy...?” 

“How does a bakery employee have access to military secrets to begin with?” 

Everyone had come to doubt one another, and as the definition of who deserved execution became progressively more vague, they had grown to fear and suspect the inquisition as a whole. 

All the while, their friends, neighbors, and family members were burned at the stake. Thus, they began to wonder... Is this really right? Is this how things should be? 

“Quiet! All of you, silence!” screeched an inquisitor, putting a stop to the murmurs and whispers. “We will now execute the heretic!” 

He then pulled out a sharp blade. 

“No! Nooo!” Maëlys screamed. 

“We will lay bare your true, tainted nature for all to see, heretic!” 

Holding Maëlys down as she struggled to escape her bonds, the inquisitor tore into her skin. Thick beads of blood poured down to the ground, soaking into the earth. The inquisitor then reached his hand into the wound and began forcibly pulling her skin off through the tear. 

“Aaah, it hurts, it hurts, aaAahHh!” Maëlys’ agonized, animalistic howls echoed throughout the plaza. 

“Behold!” the inquisitor said as her bright-red flesh became exposed. “This is the true nature of this heretic!” 

“Stop it! This is horrible...!” Frederico shouted as Gina sobbed openly beside him. 

“We will now put this heretic to the torch!” The inquisitor began tying Maëlys to a pillar. There was dry brush piled up at its base to provide kindling. 

“Light the fire!” On the inquisitor’s order, the kindling was lit. 

“Aaaah, it’s hot! It burns! It buuurns! Help me! Mother...! Fatheeeer!” 

The flames lapped at Maëlys’ small form, scorching her flesh and pulling her closer to death. At first, she struggled to breathe, and then her body broke out in blisters that swelled and burst. Her senses gradually left her as her consciousness faded. 

It took thirty minutes for Maëlys to die, and she suffered through every single second of it. 

“This concludes the execution! May you continue worshiping the God of Light!” With that, the inquisitor walked away, leaving Maëlys’ burned corpse on the stake. The citizens weren’t even allowed to take her body down and mourn her. It would count as helping a heretic, marking the guilty party as the inquisition’s next target. As such, Maëlys’ remains would be left to the crows and wild dogs until it came time for someone else’s execution, as if to say that was fitting punishment for a heretic. 

“Maëlys...” Frederico murmured. 

“Awful... This is too awful...” Gina said, tears still streaming down her cheeks. 

The two of them stood before Maëlys’ body, weeping. 

But that day, the inquisition suddenly stopped, and the next execution never came. While the citizens of Frantz didn’t know this at the time, it was because the Department of Punition had fallen into a state of disarray. 

“I did not embezzle a single thing! All of the confiscated items and funds were placed in the national treasury!” declared Bernardelli, head of the Department of Punition. 

He had been led to an interrogation room, and now the questioning was taking place. 

“Enough with your lies! We have evidence right here! All told, five million istas are missing! Who could have taken that sum if not the inquisition?!” 

An interrogation officer from the Mystical Research Division was in charge of confronting him. The matter of Bernardelli’s embezzlement was actually a major issue for the Popedom. Members of the Mystical Research Division had discovered that the funds in the national treasury didn’t match the records of what had been confiscated from heretics, and thus they concluded that someone with access to the vaults must have misappropriated the lost property. Bernardelli firmly denied any and all involvement, claiming his inquisitors had done nothing of the sort. 

His denial was only natural; the documents leveraged as proof against him had all been fabricated by the Mystical Research Division itself. The organization had altered the documents to list more wealth than had actually been confiscated from heretics. In so doing, they made it seem as if someone was embezzling those funds. 

“How obstinate! Perhaps we should have the inquisition hold a trial against you next?” 

“N-No!” 

Bernardelli knew full well just how terrifying the inquisition was. After all, it was on his orders that so many people had been flayed alive and burned at the stake. Their pained screams and ghastly remains were vivid in his memory. By no means was he going to let that happen to him. 

“Right, then I’ll ask you once more. Did you embezzle those funds?” 

“No, of course not! But if there is any suspicion that I have, I will step down from my post immediately!” Bernardelli replied in a panic. 

“So you insist on your innocence... Very well. Retire, then. You’ve done something unforgivable, but if you’re willing to repent, the God of Light will show you His mercy.” The interrogation officer’s face broke out in a thin, serpentine smile. 

After that, Bernardelli was released. Later that day, he submitted a letter of resignation, relinquishing his role as the head of the Department of Punition. His successor was, of course, none other than Paris Pamphilj. 

Paris had arranged all this to ensure he would never be cornered again. He no longer had to fear being burned at the stake, and now all those who’d threatened him would go on to fear him. 

“With this, the inquisition cannot be turned against me,” Paris said triumphantly, sitting in his office. He then heaved a sigh of relief. 

However, he had forgotten that the inquisition was not his only threat. The Arachnea was still at large. While Paris had been the star of his own concocted farce, the Arachnea was preparing for war. It would not be long before the faction’s terrifying power would be unleashed. 

And when that time came, the Popedom of Frantz would be wiped off the face of the world. Just like the Kingdom of Maluk and the Dukedom of Schtraut before it. 

The countdown to Frantz’s demise relentlessly ticked on.