Ject The Arbiter (1)

“Tsk, your status is insignificant, and you’re not particularly attractive. Stop spouting pathetic nonsense and just wait for your punishment.”

Bishop William said this as he raised his hand. A young clerk standing nearby handed him a goblet of wine. It seemed the bishop’s preferences were reflected in his attendants—all were youthful and exceptionally handsome young men.

Bishop William of Salasma favored the young and beautiful. Thus, even though Sir Zebec, a man in his thirties, was a highly skilled individual perfectly suited to be the diocesan captain, he was replaced. Instead, the bishop filled the position with inexperienced individuals who came from good families and were extraordinarily attractive, both young men and women.

Because of this, Sir Zebec suffered the humiliation of being surpassed by his own pupil, Captain Maya. And now, an incident had occurred that could tarnish the bishop’s prestige, and it was resolved by none other than Sir Zebec….

For the bishop, this added one more reason to dislike Sir Zebec.

“It would be best to ensure that no unnecessary stories leak out. If the Count is involved in dark magic, this is a matter of the King’s Church’s dignity!”

“Yes, understood.”

Sir Zebec responded, but he felt a wave of dizziness at the bishop’s words.

It was clear that the Count had engaged in dark magic. But to dismiss it as a threat to the King’s Church’s dignity and cover up the incident? Was he planning to fabricate the truth?

Covering it up and manipulating the facts would leave the aftermath unresolved. The commoners, servants, soldiers, and knights—everyone—would grow curious and spread rumors….

If they tried to suppress it, who could predict how far things might escalate?

“Then, regarding your punishment…”

At that moment, the door to the bishop’s office burst open, and a knight clad in golden armor walked in.

“Greetings, Bishop.”

“Huh?”

The bishop trembled as if struck by a sudden chill.

“Ah, Sir Zebec. You’re here as well. I heard there was an incident that could qualify someone to become a Penitent Knight?”

The knight, undeterred by the bishop’s presence, spoke freely to Sir Zebec.

“Yes, Sir Ject.”

“Then why not become my assistant and join the Penitent Knights in their duties?”

Sir Ject said this as he removed his helmet. Members of the Yaegas god tribe, whose blood was strong, were usually marked by silver hair. However, Sir Ject’s hair was golden, with only a streak of silver at the front.

His narrow eyes, always half-closed as if the world was too bright, gave the impression of a perpetual smile as he alternated his gaze between Sir Zebec and the bishop.

“Will you grant my request, Bishop?”

“Ah, of course, of course. Who would dare refuse a request from Ject the Arbiter?”

The bishop, trembling, nodded at Sir Zebec.

“Well then, let’s depart together.”

“My gratitude.”

With a smile, Sir Ject turned and walked away from the bishop.

The Inquisitors of the Church, among whom the Arbiters stood at the pinnacle, were a group of only sixteen individuals across the entire King’s Church.

According to church principles, holy knights did not engage in politics or policy but were limited to enforcing the decisions made by clerics through acts of violence. However, the Arbiter, at the top of the Inquisitors, had the authority to purge heretics or infiltrators of cults within the church, allowing them to intervene in the King’s Church’s internal conflicts.

With the authority to investigate the organization itself, the Arbiters were the core of the holy knights’ power. And now, Sir Ject, holding such a high position, had acknowledged Sir Zebec’s efforts.

“You must’ve had a hard time serving that fool, Sir Zebec.”

“N-no, not at all.”

Sir Zebec was deeply moved that Sir Ject remembered him. When he first joined the King’s Church, he had learned divine magic under Sir Ject.

The holy knights of the King’s Church preferred to focus intensely on one of the most combat-effective divine magic techniques to quickly enhance their combat power. Among them, Sir Zebec gained attention for his deep understanding of divine magic.

However, his humble origins and weak magical power were seen as flaws, leading to his dismissal during training after only two weeks. Yet, during that brief two-week period, Sir Ject had remembered him and even memorized his name. Sir Zebec couldn’t help but feel moved.

“So, what brings you here?”

“I heard that Salasma is suffering from drought and monsters are running rampant, so I came to see for myself. I also encountered something interesting on the way.”

“Something interesting?”

When Sir Zebec stepped outside the church with Sir Ject, he saw a cart carrying corpses.

“Sir Kazrek?”

The bodies of Sir Kazrek and his apprentice knights were loaded onto the cart. They had been dead for some time, emitting a foul stench. However, given that the entire Salasma region reeked of decay, the smell of one or two rotting corpses hardly stood out.

“You recognize them? Even though they’re so decomposed?”

“I recognize the sword and armor as belonging to Sir Kazrek, that’s all.”

“I see. Whoever killed these knights didn’t loot their weapons. Perhaps because they belonged to a holy knight…”

Beside the cart stood Sir Ject’s noncommissioned officers and soldiers. They had captured some farmers and children—the survivors of a farm massacre committed by Sir Kazrek’s group.

“At first, those who killed the holy knights buried them without looting. But these people here were caught digging up the graves. After some interrogation, they claimed the Messenger Clan was responsible.”

“What?”

“They said it was the Emperor’s Messengers. Those followers of the Emperor, the so-called Kingslayer. It would take someone of that caliber to defeat our holy knights.”

“….”

At that moment, one of the captured young men coughed up blood and shouted.

“Don’t make me laugh! That so-called holy knight killed my father! His arrow missed during a hunt and killed our family, and then he massacred the entire farm to silence us!”

Sir Ject, still wearing his perpetual smile, glanced at his noncommissioned officers. One of them whipped the young man’s lips with a lash.

“Shut your mouth, you wretch!”

The whip tore the young man’s lips, causing his flesh to split.

“….”

Sir Zebec’s face hardened as he witnessed this scene. Across from him, Captain Maya, who had arrived unnoticed, also observed the events unfolding.

Startled, she rushed to the cart, knelt down, and inspected the bodies.

“This… this is….”

“Who are you?”

“Ah! My apologies, Sir Ject. I am….”

“She is Captain Maya, the daughter of Sir Kazrek.”

“Hm? Daughter? A holy knight’s daughter, you say?”

Sir Ject questioned this, then nodded.

“Well, I suppose it’s possible.”

At that moment, the young man who had been captured smirked.

“The daughter of that butcher?”

“Silence!”

A noncommissioned officer raised his whip to strike the young man’s face again, but this time Sir Zebec blocked it with the sheath of his sword.

“People are watching. Such actions in public are bad for morale.”

“But we can’t just let this one run his mouth….”

“Gag him and remove him.”

Sir Zebec spoke firmly, then glanced at Maya’s face. She looked confused as she stood before her father’s mangled corpse.

“This… what does it mean that my father was a butcher?”

“That… well….”

“Share the investigation records with her. As Sir Kazrek’s daughter, she has the right to know,”

Sir Ject instructed the noncommissioned officers. Then he turned back to Sir Zebec.

“So, Sir Zebec, I plan to restore order in Salasma. I’ll need your assistance.”

At this, Captain Maya stepped forward and bowed her head before Sir Ject.

“Please, allow me to assist you as well.”

Captain Maya’s duty was to protect the bishop’s diocese. Her superior was the bishop, and while she could be dispatched for investigations or act independently on occasion, she ultimately had to follow the bishop’s orders.

However, her desire to uncover the truth behind her father’s death and seek revenge drove her. The investigation report she had been shown omitted any mention of the civilian massacre.

Sir Ject and his subordinates, who worked to strengthen the authority of the Holy Knights, naturally sought to cover up scandals.

“Hm, how intriguing.”

Sir Ject smiled at Maya’s request.

“Let me make this clear. We are not pursuing Sir Kazrek’s killer. We are merely investigating what happened in Salasma and formulating countermeasures. Are you sure you can abandon the bishop’s authority to follow me?”

“T-that… I apologize, but I wish to follow you, Sir Ject.”

“Hm, very well. Sir Zebec.”

“Yes?”

“Handle the necessary procedures to temporarily transfer her to my command. We’re short on knights anyway.”

“Temporarily? Or permanently?”

“That depends on her wishes and the bishop’s decision.”

Being a diocesan captain was a comfortable and lucrative position, whereas following an Arbiter like Ject was dangerous, albeit honorable. Most knights would never willingly give up such a position. Yet, driven by vengeance, Maya was willing to leave her post entirely.

“I want to become an Inquisitor!”

“Excellent. Such enthusiasm should not be ignored.”

Sir Ject approved Maya’s transfer.

“By the way, may I also review the investigation records?”

Sir Zebec requested to see the records from the noncommissioned officers.

“This…”

It was clear the investigation records had been falsified. They claimed Sir Kazrek and his men were ambushed and killed at the farm by deceitful members of the Messenger Clan and Emperor’s followers.

The young man’s testimony didn’t seem like a lie.

‘Does Captain Maya truly believe this fabricated report after witnessing the situation with her own eyes?’

Sir Zebec smirked bitterly.

He knew the Messenger who had killed Sir Kazrek. Azadine. If Azadine had acted against holy knights, it must have been because the young man’s testimony was true.

“Mmm.”

Azadine opened his eyes in bed, and a searing pain shot through his entire body.

“Ow… I’m dying here.”

A groan escaped him involuntarily. His muscles ached, he was bruised all over, and he suspected a concussion and internal bleeding. At least he had no broken bones—that was a relief. Azadine weakly turned his head to look around.

‘If I had the Emperor’s Voice, I could ask it to check my surroundings for me. This is so inconvenient. I need to get my dismissal revoked and regain the Emperor’s Voice soon….’

The absence of the Emperor’s Voice weighed heavily on him as he took in his surroundings. He was in the estate of Baroness Nort.

“Ugh… I’m thirsty.”

Reaching for the water bowl on the bedside table, Azadine accidentally knocked it over. His muscles were so sore that even such a simple action ended in failure.