The State Of The Knights Of The Stigmata

――A flower shop on a corner of the capital’s main avenue.

“Welco—?!?”

The shop’s poster girl, seeing the customer who had come in, forgot her usual sales smile and was at a loss for words.

“……..”

It was because the customer’s appearance was—far too strange.

A tall figure, just under 190 centimeters.

He wore a leather coat and leather hat; his arms and face were wrapped in bandages like a mummy so that no skin showed, and he gave off the scent of blood and rusted iron.

The capital, also called a city of adventurers.

They were used to seeing rough characters with bad faces—but the man before her looked more like a murderer.

The man’s true identity was a Holy Knight of the Holy Church—one of the elite who made up the Knights of the Stigmata.

The Fourth Stigmata—it was Kaine Kaiwell.

‘You shouldn’t judge people by their looks… and that scale-and-sword insignia on his coat—he’s from the Holy Church.’

The stunned poster girl recalled her natural customer-service spirit and pulled herself together.

No matter the appearance, coming into a flower shop meant buying flowers.

Born the daughter of a florist, she lived by the motto that people who come to buy flowers cannot be bad.

“What can I do for you, Sir Holy Knight?”

The poster girl approached the Holy Knight.

She felt the scent of flowers drowned out by the smell of blood, but she did not lose her smile.

“……..”

Kaine looked around the shop.

His hat was pulled down so deep it was hard to tell, but apparently only the eye area wasn’t bandaged, so it seemed he could see.

“Do you have water lilies?”

His muffled voice came through the bandages.

“Water lilies? Of course we have them! Would you like me to wrap them nicely?”

“Then—prepare one hundred stems.”

“One hundred!?”

“Yes.”

As the florist’s daughter, she had to prepare a bouquet that would satisfy him no matter what.

With that sense of duty, she spent over ten minutes and crafted a bouquet she was proud of.

“Customer! It is ready!”

“Put it there.”

“Huh? Ah, yes.”

Kaine found an empty counter and instructed her to place the bouquet there.

The poster girl placed the bouquet as told—Kaine then picked it up.

‘Is he reluctant to be touched…? Looking closely, blood is seeping through the bandages from the inside… Is it a wound from fighting monsters?’

“Will this be enough?”

After taking the bouquet, Kaine set 50,000 G in silver coins on the counter.

“Ah, yes. That’s fine—we’ll prepare your change.”

“I don’t need change. I have a rule against carrying anything less than a silver coin.”

‘Wow, Holy Knights sure earn a lot…’

Kaine left the shop.

Looking at the bouquet in his hands, the wrapping paper touching the bandages was crumbling and worn.

Soon the outer water lilies began to lose moisture and their vivid petals wilted and dried.

“Tch…”

The rapid decay ate inward from the bouquet’s edges toward the center; at this rate, in a few minutes all the flowers would be withered.

“I should hurry a little…”

Muttering to himself, he walked briskly down the avenue.

Before the bouquet withered entirely from the curse engraved on his body.

“Truly—a troublesome blessing (curse).”

＊＊＊

――Time rewinds a bit.

――A few hours before Kaine Kaiwell went to the flower shop.

The Holy Church’s main headquarters towered in the capital’s central district—commonly called the Grand Cathedral.

Inside, in the conference room assigned to the Knights of the Stigmata.

“Heyyy—sorry I’m late!”

By order of Johanna Hohenzollern, the Second Stigmata, who was acting as coordinator in place of the currently vacant First Stigmata, the members of the Knights of the Stigmata had gathered.

The solemn silence was broken by a mischievous red-haired girl who entered last――Annise Redby.

She was the rough-and-ready nun who recently rescued Sid Ranorus’s slave, Rinrin Ringland, from villainous former adventurers.

“Good day, Miss Annise. You’re right on time, so no problem. Please take your seat.”

“Phew, that’s good.”

“Annise—at least be five minutes early as a rule.”

“Senior Sheena, that’s workplace harassment, y’know.”

“…! What I’m trying to say is to have awareness of your duties as a member of the Knights of the Stigmata…”

Sheena Aytel, the Third Stigmata, sitting at the head with Johanna, reproved her, but Annise shrugged it off with a nonchalant attitude.

“Besides, Senior Selva still hasn’t shown up either.”

Annise complained as she looked at the empty seat of Fifth Stigmata, Selva Arturus.

“……..”
“……..”
“……..”
“……..”

“—Huh? What’s with this atmosphere?”

Annise, who had just entered and hadn’t grasped the situation, couldn’t stand the oppressive air and looked around anxiously.

Florence Cuticle, the Seventh Stigmata and the youngest, leaned over and whispered to Annise.

“Lord Selva—has fallen in the line of duty.”

“…Wow.”

Annise understood the reason for the gathering at a glance at Selva’s empty seat.

“Senior Selva, it was fine that he smugly tracked down the location of the Shikai Tribe, but getting ambushed and killed kind of defeats the purpose…”

“Um… excuse me.”

Timidly, Florence, seated at the end, raised her hand.

“What is it, Miss Flo?”

“Why did Lord Selva go alone to Sid—no—to the member of the Shikai Tribe? He should have known well the strength of a Shadow Necromancer.”

“Senior Selva’s fighting style is all about poison—he’s actually stronger solo, that guy.”

“And yet… Junior Selva is dead…!”

Kaine Kaiwell, the Fourth Stigmata, who had been silent until now, continued.

His face was entirely covered in bandages so his expression couldn’t be seen, but his voice clearly carried anger.

“In other words—the target is immune to poison. Even just discovering that made Junior Selva’s death not in vain.”

“I see… May Lord Selva’s spirit pass through the gates of Heaven, I pray.”

Florence clasped her fingers together once more and offered a prayer of mourning for Selva.

“Ahem—now then.”

Johanna, acting as coordinator, cleared her throat and got to the main topic.

“Thanks to everyone’s efforts, we’ve been able to narrow down the whereabouts of the target, Sid Ranorus, to an extent. In particular, Miss Annise discovered the name and face of the Ragiu Tribe slave the target possesses—and that he sometimes appears in the capital to procure supplies. Once again, thank you—well done, Miss Annise.”

“Nahhh, it was just luck. I was looking for cute girls and it just so happened to be a slave of the Shikai Tribe.”

“And the late Junior Selva noticed discrepancies between the total number of Dungeon Cores in circulation and the number of dungeons recently cleared, successfully narrowing down which dungeons the target might appear in.”

Johanna continued in a firm voice that betrayed no sign of age.

“Putting this information together, it’s highly likely the target is still hiding near the capital—or even within the capital itself.”

“Whoa—there’s even a possibility he’s in the capital. That’s bold, huh~”

“No—it’s actually harder to find someone hiding in the populous capital than in a sparsely populated rural village.”

Sheena added to Johanna’s reasoning.

“That being the case, Miss Annise—you will continue to patrol within the capital.”

“Yesss.”

――Well, patrolling the capital means it’s easy since one can slack off whenever one likes.

Her reply was energetic, but as expected she was a lazy girl at heart.