Legacy of the Living
If you collect ten, you offer one.
There is a custom in the Holy Church known as the tithe. It is a form of tax offered to the religious order, and its history is remarkably long. It dates back to the time just after the age of the gods had ended, yet before the age of the dwarves had begun.
At that time, the world was in chaos, with every race battling every other race to determine who would lead the next era. Even those races that had been born before humans, that had established civilizations and enjoyed prosperity, were driven to extinction.
Humans were nothing more than a weak and insignificant race caught in that turmoil. The one who led such a group was Hestio. To protect his people, he said:
"Select the strong among you. I will train and arm them so that they may protect you. In return, you shall ensure they fulfill their role without needing to farm or herd—ten people shall gather their harvest and give it to one."
This was the origin of the tithe.
Even after Hestio departed, and the Emperor arose to establish the First Empire, the custom remained. It took root within each sect and has continued to this day.
In the present age, there are almost no people without faith. And anyone who holds faith offers a tithe to the temple. By the time of the Third Age of Humanity, there are no temples outside the Holy Church—meaning, in effect, the entire world pays its tax to it.
Originally, the tithe was one-tenth of one's income. However, those with deep faith give more, while those with shallow faith give less.
Not long after the Jokuster Empire was established, a certain bastard rose to the throne with the help of the Kormilius family. That emperor donated one-tenth of his inherited lands to the Holy Church.
Whether this was out of faith or repayment is unknown. What is certain is that the donated land became the Langen Bishopric, the first among the eight bishoprics of the current era.
***
"...You wish to see His Excellency?"
The young man sweeping fallen leaves with a broom at the main gate of the Grand Temple of Overlangen asked.
"Yes. If it's not too much trouble, could we see him right away?"
Beatrice gave the young man—who appeared to be an apprentice priest—a gentle smile.
The young man looked at her, then at the group behind her, including Ulrich. His gaze was filled with suspicion—who were they, and why had they come? His eyes narrowed slightly as caution crept in.
That reaction was understandable. Beatrice's attire was plain. At a glance, she looked like a wandering mercenary, and the rest of her party, including Roberta, were dressed similarly. To the young man, they seemed like dubious figures suddenly asking to meet the Archbishop.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No."
"Then that will be difficult. His Excellency is not someone you can meet without prior arrangement."
At that, Beatrice placed her right hand over her chest.
"Couldn't you make an exception?"
The apprentice priest opened his mouth as if to refuse—then froze. His eyes widened.
He had seen the emblem on the back of Beatrice's right hand.
The emblem of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith—a mark granted only to inquisitors. Even an apprentice priest could not fail to recognize it.
"P-Please wait a moment!"
Swallowing hard, the young man quickly turned and hurried into the temple. It was almost as if he were fleeing, leaving his guests outside. Roberta scratched the back of her neck awkwardly.
"...Let's go in and wait."
***
The inside of the temple was quiet.
It wasn't prayer time, so it was natural that there were no worshippers—but there wasn't a single attendant in sight either. Instead, the autumn breeze and the morning sunlight, streaming through the open windows, filled the space in place of people.
As Roberta walked from the nave toward the central aisle, she examined the interior decorations.
As befitting the cathedral at the heart of the Langen Bishopric, great care had been put into it. The ceiling was adorned with murals, the walls with sculptures, and the windows with stained glass.
This temple, in particular, had an unusually large number of windows. Each one was crafted from colored glass, depicting scenes from the scriptures: a man holding a burning sword, another standing on a boat rowing, a figure before a towering mountain.
The sunlight passing through the glass made the images glow. And that light did more than simply illuminate the temple—it carried the colors of the glass and painted the interior in vivid hues.
Roberta admired the sight inwardly, then suddenly glanced at Ulrich.
***
Ulrich had stopped walking and was looking up at one of the stained-glass windows.
It depicted a serpent with nine heads, and the back of a man standing before it—the Emperor hunting the serpent that had destroyed six fairy kingdoms at the end of the Age of Fairies.
"Is there something wrong with the image?"
Beatrice spoke first.
"There's nothing wrong. It's just… the intent is too obvious."
After a pause, Ulrich continued:
"There should actually be two more figures. The Emperor didn't hunt that creature—one that failed to become a dragon—alone. Three faced one. Each fulfilled their role so completely that it's impossible to say whose contribution was greatest. But that isn't shown here."
"Well—"
Just as Beatrice was about to respond, footsteps echoed.
"It was deliberately excluded."
The group turned toward the voice.
A man entered through the right-side aisle, accompanied by a boy. He was tall and solidly built, with streaks of white in his hair. He looked to be over fifty. His face was covered in scars, and he wore a deep scowl.
"Your Excellency."
Beatrice bowed her head slightly.
The man called "Your Excellency" was dressed in priestly robes—red in color, the symbol of an Archbishop. He was Giacomo, the Archbishop of Langen.
"I've heard that the child Vinicio raised received the mark of the Doctrine of Faith. But this is the first time I've seen you in person."
With a slight smirk, Giacomo looked down at Beatrice.
"So it is."
"Well, it's best that we never meet, anyway."
At his mocking tone, Beatrice's brow twitched.
"If one has done nothing wrong, there's no reason to be afraid."
"And if crimes can be fabricated out of nothing, does that really matter?"
"At the very least, I don't do such things—so it matters."
Archbishop Giacomo let out a laugh and stared directly at Beatrice. The air turned cold as silence settled between them.
After a brief exchange of gazes, Giacomo turned his head and looked over the rest of the group. His eyes passed Roberta, Fritz, and Beatrice's attendants, before stopping at Ulrich.
"A pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency. My name is Elmar."
Ulrich bowed politely, as if he had been waiting.
"You don't seem to be one of her attendants."
"I am traveling with these companions on a pilgrimage to Novasolon. By chance, we met Lady Beatrice in Luogalan, and have accompanied her here."
At the word pilgrimage, Giacomo nodded.
"I see. A pilgrim, then."
"Yes. If it pleases you, I would also like to receive your blessing."
"Indeed, indeed."
The Archbishop nodded again.
"You possess considerable insight for someone your age."
Ulrich smiled faintly.
"I once devoted myself to study."
"Then what do you think the intent is?"
Giacomo looked at the stained glass Ulrich had been observing.
"The fact that three took part in the serpent hunt is omitted from the canon. It's not a distortion—but it was deliberately left out. Can you guess why?"
"Because the other two were not human, and the Emperor forming an alliance with them would diminish his achievement."
"Correct. That is exactly right. It was the will of the Pantheon—or rather, of the Kormilius line. The Emperor was a human who bore Hestio's divinity and an ancestor of Kormilius. His accomplishments must not be weakened, even slightly."
Roberta glanced subtly at Beatrice and Ulrich to gauge their reactions.
Neither showed much response. Ulrich wore a faint smile, continuing his act as a young pilgrim, while Beatrice simply watched in silence.
"If you are a man of faith deep enough to go on pilgrimage, then you must not rely solely on the scriptures… especially not just the canon. You should expose yourself to all kinds of texts beyond it, compare them, and cultivate a critical perspective. Otherwise, you will only end up with a viewpoint that was handed to you. We live by faith—but blind faith is not the answer."
Soon after, Giacomo bestowed his blessing upon Ulrich, then turned his gaze to Beatrice.
"You didn't come here for a blessing, did you?"
"The only ones who can grant me a blessing are His Holiness… or one other person."
The Archbishop snorted and turned away.
"Follow me. Let's speak inside."
The two of them exited toward the outer corridor with their attendants. Roberta quietly watched their backs.
Since they had introduced themselves under false names as mere companions, they had no reason to follow Beatrice.
When Roberta glanced at Ulrich, he gave a small nod and stepped out of the temple.
***
"This isn't the end of it, is it?"
Roberta spoke as they walked along the road after leaving the temple.
"Hard to say. Nothing is certain yet."
Ulrich replied as he walked between Roberta and Fritz.
"What do you mean? Whether we leave or stay?"
"For now, it's only suspicion. Whether that man has a problem or not."
"There has to be something wrong. Just looking at the situation."
She almost added isn't it obvious?, but held her tongue.
The "obvious problem" she was referring to was the Archbishop's rumored stance.
He had sided with Jokuster—despite being appointed to the Langen Bishopric with the backing of Kormilius, he had aligned himself against his own supporters.
Of course, he had never publicly declared his position. But both the Jokuster faction and the inquisitor Beatrice were convinced of it.
There were signs that Archbishop Giacomo had ignored multiple demands from the Pantheon while supporting Jokuster. That was why an inquisitor had personally come to confirm it.
But that wasn't why Roberta hesitated to speak.
Even if the Archbishop had defied Kormilius, was that truly connected to Ulrich? Was it enough to make him stop his journey?
When she thought about it that way, something didn't quite add up.
"Sir Ulrich… we are heading to the Pantheon, right?"
"Of course. Aren't we already on our way?"
When Roberta didn't respond, Ulrich continued:
"It seems you're unable to see the connection between why we're going to the Pantheon and why I occasionally stray from the path."
"…Yes. That's how it feels. Am I wrong?"
"You are."
Ulrich shook his head.
"They are not unrelated. In fact, they are deeply connected."
"In what way?"
"Roberta… you don't think this ends the moment I step foot in the Pantheon, do you?"
Of course not.
Why had Pope Marcello excommunicated Ulrich's adopted son and issued a priest summons to the Kingdom of Osnover?
Was it simply to bring a man named Ulrich to the Pantheon?
No.
It was to restore the declining power of the Kormilius family—to use Ulrich as a means to that end.
They had once offered him the imperial crown and been rejected. What they intended to do now was unknown.
But one thing was certain—they meant to use him.
"There is a cause. The reason Kormilius seeks me—I am merely one of the means to resolve it. Whether or not I actually reach the Pantheon is not what matters. If the cause can be resolved before that, then that alone is enough. Like the World Tree."
Ulrich entered the marketplace.
The air was filled with the chaotic mix of merchants, customers, and hawkers shouting over one another. The streets were narrow, forcing Roberta to stay close behind him.
"The Archbishop is no different. Whether the rumor that he has changed his allegiance is true—and if it is, what caused it—and whether that cause is connected to me… all of that must be confirmed."
"How do you plan to confirm it?"
Ulrich turned into a narrow alley within the market.
Though cramped, it was far less crowded than the main road. But when a path within the same marketplace suddenly became empty, there was always a reason.
The place they had entered was a slum.
The moment they stepped in, a foul smell assaulted their noses. Filth and beggars lined the surroundings.
"In places where people gather, there are always those with useful talents. Roberta, do you remember who you sought out in Iselburg?"
In the capital of Osnover, Iselburg, Roberta had sought out a mage for information.
"Are you looking for a mage's base?"
"There's a group with sharper eyes and ears than that."
Sharper?
Roberta tilted her head—then her eyes widened in realization.
"Thieves… no, you mean the followers of Gaheka."
Ulrich stopped walking. They stood before a shop at the end of the alley.
The door was closed, and although the window was open, it was too high to see inside.
Above the door hung two signboards—one on each side. One was only slightly worn, its lettering still clear. The other had decayed with age, its writing almost unreadable.
They stepped inside.
A man, likely the owner, sat dozing in a chair. At the sound of the door opening, he lazily opened one eye.
"Welcome. Looking for something?"
Ulrich slowly glanced around the interior before speaking.
"It hasn't changed."
His voice was low, but it carried clearly through the shop.
He took out a ring from his pocket and handed it to the owner.
A plain silver ring with no pattern.
The owner took it with a puzzled expression—but soon his face stiffened.
Pressing his lips together as if choosing his words carefully, he examined the inside of the ring again, then looked up at Ulrich.
"…Where did you get this?"
"From an old friend."
"…When?"
Ulrich gave a faint smile.
"A long time ago. I can't tell you exactly when."
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