Chapter 48
"It's been a while, Inquisitor Isabel."
“…It’s been a while, Saintess Sabrina."
The two exchanged greetings so devoid of emotion that anyone could see they were nothing more than formality. Then, Sabrina’s head quickly snapped toward Karl.
“So you're the one called the Knight of the Lighthouse, Sir Karl, who’s assisting with the Church’s matters this time? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Saintess Sabrina of the Order.”
Sabrina offered a radiant smile as she bowed to Karl. Anyone who didn’t know her would have immediately sensed a dignified and noble presence.
But Karl merely nodded in return, his expression unchanged.
At his completely indifferent greeting, a slight crease formed between Sabrina’s brows—barely noticeable—before it quickly smoothed out.
“By the way, what brings you all the way out to Isoca, Saintess?”
“I came to give comfort to the people. I heard Bishop Fabricio would be accompanying the merchant caravan to distribute relief goods, so I came to lend what little help I could.”
Her gentle smile seemed to brighten the surroundings. At that moment, a gatekeeper who had recognized her came rushing over in a panic.
Villages and cities near the Vatican had seen her a few times before, so many recognized her face. And most of the people gave her absolute, blind devotion.
A Saintess chosen by God, descended with the beauty of an angel, healing the people with divine power—how could anyone not love her?
“I’ve already sent word that the Saintess has arrived! The lord will be coming out shortly!”
“Oh, I didn’t come to trouble anyone…”
“Trouble? Never!”
Though she found the gathering crowd irritating, Sabrina maintained her most pristine smile without letting it show.
‘Disgusting vermin… how bothersome.’
Sabrina knew how to stretch her legs only where a bed was properly laid.
“For now, I’ll be heading to see Bishop Fabricio. I’ll see you again, Dame Isabel. And Sir Karl…”
As she gave her parting words to Karl, she sent a subtle glance—intended for him alone.
Most men would have had their pupils shake just from that look.
Karl, however, simply gave the same indifferent nod as before.
He then strode over to the monk standing silently at her side, face somber.
Brother Marco flinched and took a step back as Karl approached.
At that moment, Karl took something from his coat and handed it to Marco.
“You two seem to have suffered a great deal on the road. I can even smell blood. Here, it’s a good fragrance for bathing.”
Saying that, Karl turned and walked away with Isabel.
Sabrina and Marco stood wordlessly, alternating their gaze between the item in Marco’s hand and Karl’s retreating figure until he was gone.
“…Did that bastard just say we smelled like blood?”
Sabrina spoke in a voice low enough for only Marco to hear.
In truth, it was a roundabout way of saying she smelled like blood—Marco hadn’t even been near any.
“…Yes.”
“Hah!”
Sabrina, now aware of the crowd gathering around her, resumed walking while managing her expression.
She briskly made her way to the manor where Bishop Fabricio was staying. Familiar with the place, she slipped inside and went straight to her usual room.
“What? That filthy mercenary dares to say I stink? That I should use some fancy perfume?!”
Her perfect white teeth ground together in fury.
***
Isabel found it strange that Karl had suddenly given them a fragrance. But even stranger were his next words.
“That woman… is she really the Vatican’s Saintess?”
“Yes, she is.”
“She reeks of blood.”
“Blood? What do you mean, she smells of blood?”
“I’m not just talking about a scent you pick up with your nose. If it were only that, she could cover it with a good bath and strong perfume. It’s hard to describe… Let’s say the more blood one sees, the more it seeps into you.”
“So you’re saying…”
Karl nodded, and Isabel’s mind went into overdrive.
“Even the busiest executioners don’t carry a stench like that. She’s on par with the late Del Maria.”
Karl, who had spent most of his life on the battlefield, never misjudged the scent of blood. And for him to compare her to Del Maria, of all people…
“In any case, our objectives are simple: One, uncover the existence of apostates within the Vatican collaborating with Tarantula. Two, eliminate those apostates and their accomplices. Three, expose the true face of that Saintess.”
“…Not a single one of those will be easy.”
It was clearly a difficult task—but Karl had to do it. The quest had already been triggered.
“It might be simpler than we think, if we’re ready.”
Isabel looked into Karl’s eyes. His face was stoic, but within his eyes, she saw unwavering resolve.
***
"Weren’t we going through the front gate?”
“That’s an option, depending on the situation. But right now, I doubt we’ll get any useful information over a cup of tea.”
Karl naturally slipped into infiltration mode.
“You’re quite experienced at this.”
Karl didn’t answer. He moved ahead of Isabel, leading the way.
The manor housing Bishop Fabricio and the merchant group was second in size only to the lord’s estate in Isoca.
Many of the guards stationed there were too skilled to be mere merchant escorts.
“Dame Isabel, stand by here in case something goes wrong.”
Deeming Isabel’s infiltration skills inadequate, Karl stationed her at a hidden spot outside.
Then, moving silently, he scaled a side wall and entered through an open second-floor window.
Where are they…
Karl searched the second floor thoroughly—but found no children.
Then he felt someone approaching down the hall.
He quickly slid under the bed and held his breath.
A thin sheen of cold sweat trickled down his back.
He’d infiltrated many places before—but this woman was a different kind of threat altogether. She might possess abilities he didn’t understand.
Rustle… shuffle…
He heard the sound of clothes being removed, and the presence moved toward the bathroom.
Karl took the chance to slip out. But just as he was about to move—
…Blood?
A powerful scent hit his nose. Not a metaphorical trace—real, physical blood.
There had been no such smell before, but the moment the bathroom door opened, it flooded the room.
Karl turned and crept slowly toward the partially open door. When he peeked inside, his eyes widened.
Several people were hanging upside down by their ankles, tied to the high ceiling.
That alone wasn't entirely unfamiliar—such methods were used in premodern warfare to extract information or break prisoners. But what was happening in this luxurious manor’s bathroom was far worse.
Each of the hanging people had their carotid arteries cut, blood pouring like rain.
This wasn’t for war. There was no reason, no justification.
Step. Step.
Footsteps approached. Karl quickly hid in the ceiling alcove.
“Saintess Sabrina, Isabel and a man named Karl have arrived in the village. Perhaps you should refrain from bathing today.”
The speaker entered naturally and called toward the bathroom.
“Hmph… No thanks. I’m already annoyed I can’t drink druid children’s blood. I can at least enjoy a bath, right?”
The Saintess lowered herself into a bathtub filled with blood, her expression dreamy.
“Haa… this scent…”
Even Fabricio trembled at the madness in her voice.
“If Cardinal Thomas or his people find out about this… You won’t be safe. There are more eyes watching you these days.”
“Isn’t that why you, Bishop Fabricio, exist?”
“….”
Out of her sight, Fabricio’s expression twisted in annoyance.
‘That lowborn wench gets bolder by the day…’
All she had was a pretty face and some divine power. She was gutter-born, nothing more.
Unlike Fabricio, who had noble blood, formal seminary training, decades of service, and had risen to bishop.
“You should be careful yourself, Saintess. As you know, Saintesses can be replaced.”
“…Are you threatening me?”
At that moment, a squelching noise echoed as a thick, bloody fluid spilled out. Sabrina stood in the doorway, still dripping with blood.
Fabricio instinctively lowered his gaze.
“If something happens to me, Bishop Fabricio, I’ll make sure to rip your heart out myself.”
Her savage, beast-like glare was powerful enough to make even someone like Fabricio flinch.
“Make sure the list for Tarantula has no holes.”
Once she returned to the bath, Fabricio left the room—and Karl emerged from hiding. He followed Fabricio cautiously.
Back in his own room, Fabricio slammed the door shut and locked it.
“That wretched wench! How dare she?!”
No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the humiliation. He was sick of supplying children for that deranged woman.
“If not for Richelieu… I’d have wrung her neck long ago!”
As the bishop ground his teeth, Karl, hidden on the ceiling, sensed something strange—something familiar yet unfamiliar.
…Someone else?
Another person was hiding there. Wearing a mask, but Karl recognized him instantly. They exchanged a brief nod, and the two silently left the manor together.
“What brings you here?”
“…Haha, Sir Karl, we seem to cross paths quite often lately. That’s what fate is, isn’t it? You and I, Sancho—”
“Spare me the nonsense.”
At Karl’s curt reply, Sancho clicked his tongue and got to the point.
“Looks like we have the same objective. I was ordered to monitor Bishop Fabricio and the suspicious merchant group staying here.”
Looking at Sancho, Karl wondered if this was the external intel group Thomas had hired.
“Cardinal Thomas of the Vatican sent you?”
“…Ah…!”
Sancho gave a startled reaction, not bothering to hide it.
“So it’s the same commission.”
“Ah…”
It was exactly what Karl expected.
Maybe Anne assigned him to watch me too…
Whether out of goodwill or suspicion, Anne was clearly keeping close tabs on him. Judging by Sancho’s reaction, they had already caught on to Karl’s movements.
“Did you find anything?”
“I’ve been slipping in and out for days. The basement’s a real show.”
“Basement?”
“They built a whole facility for holding people. Looks like they’re being supplied to Tarantula.”
That damn name again. It was everywhere. Were they the only villains in this world?
“They’re getting paid a fortune in return. That money’s being used to expand their influence. They’re scum.”
Sancho’s eyes burned with contempt.
“Sancho. Do you know where Sir Godfrey is now?”
“You mean Sir Godfrey of the Holy Knights?”
“I met him back at the Burkden Domain. Got a feeling he’s somewhere nearby.”
Whatever the size of the facility underground, if Tarantula was involved, there were probably a lot of captives.
And once things exploded, people would scatter like roaches—evidence destroyed, leads lost. They needed manpower—strong, trustworthy people.
“No one from inside the Vatican.”
No one could be sure how far Richelieu’s influence reached. Even Thomas, head of the Inquisitors, had to seek outside help.
But the Holy Knights were different. They occasionally cooperated with the Vatican—but weren’t subordinate to it.
And Godfrey… he was reliable.
“I have a request. Deliver this to Sir Godfrey of the Holy Knights.”
“Payment?”
“Put it on Anne’s tab.”
“…Whoa.”
Sancho whistled in surprise, but took the letter without complaint and disappeared.