NoveLight ™
“Kunta, I have a question. Can you answer it, Arno?”
“…Hmm, I don’t mind answering, but please finish your food first. Also, you shouldn’t speak so loudly in the dining hall, Kunta.”
“Got it!”
Slurp!
“…A steak is meant to be chewed, not drunk.”
Kunta had swallowed five thick fillets of tenderloin steak as if they were soup.
Even if they were cooked to be incredibly tender, eating like that would usually upset the stomach.
‘Well, maybe it’s not a problem for him?’
As expected from the mysterious Barbarian race.
Successfully pulling off his boisterous steak-drinking act, he smiled brightly.
“This is delicious. Lots of water comes out.”
“That’s not water; it’s juice.”
“Common language, very hard.”
“…You’re doing fine.”
Arno knew that while Kunta’s grasp of the common language might make him seem a bit dim, he was far from being a fool.
In fact, he was one of the quickest learners Arno had ever encountered.
‘Some people call Barbarians savage warriors, but I believe that’s entirely wrong.’
It was a slanderous misconception, likely spread to demean them.
If anything, their lifestyle was a testament to prioritizing practical knowledge while discarding unnecessary information.
‘Had I not met Kunta, I might have remained trapped in those prejudices forever.’
Now, Arno understood.
Barbarians were not only brave warriors but also born strategists.
They possessed a blend of kindness and diligence that made them truly admirable.
Though Arno had yet to meet any other Barbarians, just from what Kunta shared during his stay with Arno’s family, it was clear how remarkable the Barbarian race truly was.
‘I really hope he becomes a knight alongside me someday.’
There would hardly be a more reliable companion.
“Whew, I’m done eating!”
“…Did you have enough to eat?”
“Not quite enough, but I’ll manage. Kunta needs to eat modestly.”
“…I see.”
Kunta had devoured ten massive steak fillets all by himself.
That was a total of 7 kilograms—and he called it modest eating.
…He was certainly a dependable companion, but perhaps they’d run out of provisions while traveling together.
“Can I ask my question now?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“What is a ‘temple’?”
“…A temple, you mean?”
Caught off guard by the sudden question, Arno blinked a few times. But as Kunta continued, it started to make sense.
“Yes. The wisest elder in Kunta’s tribe said to beware of ‘temples’ when studying abroad.”
“……”
Arno now understood why Kunta was curious.
It was true that mysterious races like his had to be cautious around such organizations.
“But everyone I’ve met from the temple was kind and good. The priestess in the healing ward was beautiful and kind. I’d like to make her my wife.”
“…Unfortunately, temple priestesses are only allowed to marry after fifty years of devotion.”
“…Is this heartbreak? Kunta feels pain.”
“Also, once they turn fifty, they’re said to regain the appearance of a teenager, as if the gods are rewarding them for their hardships.”
“Wait, does that mean I just have to wait?”
“…Just give up.”
Sigh…
Arno was momentarily speechless at his friend’s ridiculous train of thought, but soon composed himself.
“…The temple is fundamentally a benevolent organization. They provide free healing for all the sick in the kingdom and enthusiastically engage in volunteer work.”
“Then why should we beware of them?”
“That’s because…”
Arno looked around carefully.
Although the facility was exclusively under the Offen family’s jurisdiction, the temple’s reach was known to extend everywhere.
He had to be cautious, meticulously checking for any signs of eavesdroppers before he cautiously spoke ‘that name.’
The name of the most dangerous and infamous faction within the temple.
“The temple has the ‘Inquisition.’ That’s probably what the wise elder meant by advising caution—not the temple as a whole, but them specifically.”
…Even citizens of the kingdom felt chills at the thought of crossing paths with them.
Arno instinctively furrowed his brow as he explained.
“Why are they dangerous?”
“…Some inquisitors within the Inquisition harbor intense hatred for mysterious races and advocate for their complete extermination.”
“…Kunta suddenly loses appetite.”
“……”
It wasn’t a statement one would expect from someone who had just polished off an entire cheesecake in addition to his steak.
Still, Arno could understand his sentiment.
It was indeed an unpleasant topic.
“Even so, don’t worry too much. Kunta is an officially enrolled student at the academy, and the Inquisition no longer engages in senseless acts like they used to. …However, caution is always wise. I recommend not wandering the capital alone.”
“…The more Arno talks, the more confused Kunta becomes. Should I be cautious or reassured?”
“Just understand it as: it’s best to avoid getting involved with the temple at all.”
That was the best advice Arno could offer, though Kunta still wore a frustrated expression.
“Then, what should I do if I accidentally get involved?”
“In that case…”
“In that case?”
“…You’d be unlucky.”
“……”
“Still, it’s rare for such things to happen. These days, even inquisitors are quite busy. Unless you’re extremely unlucky, you should be fine.”
“People get hurt from falling over, too?”
“…Looking at you, I can’t understand why Barbarians are considered a minority race. You’re sturdy enough to form your own kingdom.”
“?”
Kunta tilted his head in confusion, and Arno shook his head in exasperation.
Thus unfolded another peaceful day in the lives of the two students.
…And on the flip side, if someone was enjoying a peaceful day:
“Brother, how have you been today?”
“…I was fine until you showed up.”
“Ha ha, such jokes.”
“I’m not joking…”
There are always people who can’t experience peace at all.
Ihan, a man so unlucky it seemed like there’d be a raging inferno waiting if he tripped, sighed deeply as he muttered.
Then.
“…Have some tea before you go.”
“I’ll gladly accept your hospitality today as well.”
“……”
…This cursed sense of morality.
‘Why can’t I just act like trash?’
Ihan hated himself for being unable to treat a kind old man badly.
…The meeting with Father Raphael had been completely unexpected.
One day, while Ihan was pouring his enthusiasm into training, an elderly priest with a cane slowly walked up to his house.
Ihan was understandably perplexed. His house was in such a rugged and remote area that it was practically wilderness in the middle of the city. The road was in complete disrepair, and wild animals posed a threat to anyone passing by. At night, it was so dark that even a torch barely helped visibility.
All in all, it wasn’t the kind of place anyone would want to visit.
That’s why Ihan had been able to buy it so cheaply.
So, when the elderly man, clearly a clergyman, reached his house, Ihan was baffled. The man looked entirely harmless, without a trace of combat ability.
At first.
Ihan had intended to politely redirect the priest, offering to guide him back or even carry him to his destination if necessary.
But contrary to his expectations:
The old man was a “big deal.”
…Later, through the guild, Ihan learned that Father Raphael was one of only five cardinals of the Light of Radiance, and although he had resigned from his position, he still held immense influence.
Understandably so.
[- Cardinal Raphael is 116 years old this year, older than the current Pope. Known for his devoutness and self-sacrificial ways, he’s even been considered for sainthood but humbly declined, saying he was unworthy. He manages the Inquisition personally, though his reasons for taking on such a role remain unclear even within the temple. Suffice it to say, he’s an extraordinary figure, and any harm to him would bring unimaginable consequences. Please act wisely.]
This was part of a letter Ihan received from Simon, the head of the kingdom’s guild association.
And to Ihan, it was maddening.
Why would such an incredible figure walk all the way to his remote house, and why had he sought him out specifically?
Initially, Ihan had been wary and unsure of how to respond, but Raphael…
…The first day, he really just looked at Ihan’s face and left.
But Raphael kept returning.
On windy days, sweltering hot days, and even on rainy days.
Eventually, Ihan relented.
And so, he repaired the disastrous road leading to his house.
With just one assistant and a shovel, Ihan restored a path that would normally require twenty laborers, all in half a day.
Afterward:
To Ihan, Raphael was an unbeatable foe.
He would have preferred dealing with hostile individuals. At least then, he’d have a reason to retaliate. But Raphael showed no ill will, only visiting to greet him.
Not that the old priest came empty-handed, either…
Raphael would bring goat milk, butter, or other gifts he made himself.
Such acts proved him to be a considerate man. Over time:
…Eventually, Raphael started recruiting him.
Ihan admitted it.
Truly, the greatest nemesis of his life.
Raphael looked at Ihan with genuine warmth and admiration, never coming empty-handed and always leaving a favorable impression.
To Ihan, Raphael was the most “normal adult” he’d met in the kingdom, which made dealing with him even harder.
…But the mystery remained.
How could such a person oversee something as violent as the Inquisition? Why had he sought out Ihan, only to leave without asking or saying much?
If the rumors were true, Ihan had drawn the temple’s attention due to his actions.
Why?
He didn’t know yet. He had suspicions, but nothing concrete.
It gave him a headache.
If Raphael would just come out and say something, it would be easier. But his vague approach was maddening.
In the present:
Slurp.
“Mmm, this tea is delicious. What kind of tea is it?”
“…Just dried herbs from the mountain.”
“Ha ha, so I’m drinking the blessings of nature. I am deeply honored.”
“…It’s just something you can find anywhere.”
“How much effort must have gone into picking, drying, and brewing this tea? Your humility and diligence are truly the marks of a devout believer!”
“…Why does everything lead back to that?”
…By now, Ihan was reaching a zen-like acceptance of this relentless recruitment effort.
‘This old man, over a hundred years old, is still so vigorous.’
He could easily live another thirty years.
Sip.
Ihan drank his tea.
“Thank you for the delightful meeting today, Brother.”
“Don’t come tomorrow. Please.”
“Ha ha, we’re growing closer; how could I not? I’ll see you again.”
“…Yeah.”
Watching the old priest leave, Ihan noticed how frail Raphael seemed—his cane and legs appeared ready to give out at any moment.
“Assistant.”
“Yes?”
“Carry him home. Borrow a carriage and make sure he gets there safely.”
“Me?”
“Should I do it myself?”
“…No, I’ll do it. Damn it…”
“You talk too much, Assistant.”
Grumbling, Damian approached Raphael. Although Raphael tried to decline:
“I don’t want to hold a funeral for you in this heat or carry any guilt. Just accept the help—you don’t have a choice.”
“Is this forced kindness?”
“No, it’s necessary kindness.”
“Ha…”
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re kinder than you look, Brother.”
“…What’s wrong with how I look?”
“It makes me want to recruit you to the temple even more.”
“Hey, answer me.”
“I’ll accept the kindness. Thank you. May the Light bless you.”
“…What is this? Am I talking to a tree?”
Raphael allowed himself to be carried by Damian, who cautiously carried him away.
Watching the receding figure of the old priest, Ihan scratched the back of his head.
“…Kindness, huh.”
Hmm…
‘Maybe he reminds me of the old man.’
The grandfather who had raised Ihan after he was abandoned by his parents.
Though he passed away not long after, his influence had kept Ihan on a straight path during his youth.
Not that Raphael resembled his grandfather in personality, speech, or appearance.
It was just…
‘He’s a good person…’
His character—steadfast, flexible, and upright—felt reminiscent.
Even though they hadn’t known each other long, Ihan’s instincts told him Raphael wasn’t here to deceive him.
‘If he were trying to manipulate me, I’d have sent him to the afterlife by now.’
Clicking his tongue…
It was difficult.
Ihan couldn’t bring himself to treat someone genuinely good in a bad way.
As the sky darkened, he watched the shadows lengthen and the two figures fade entirely from view.
And then:
“So, what brings you here today, you sneaky bastard?”
…Without turning, Ihan spoke.
There was no one around.
But.
“I don’t mind if you don’t show yourself, but next time, come prepared to die. I’m on the verge of being annoyed.”
Swoosh.
As if responding to a curtain call, someone revealed themselves.
It was like a veil being drawn back—an awe-inspiring, mysterious sight as “he” stepped forward.
“…My apologies. It seems I have tested you unknowingly. I was merely guarding the cardinal.”
“That’s why I let it slide. Otherwise, you’d already be dead.”
“…So, you knew from the beginning.”
The man nodded silently, his expression blank, as Ihan turned to face him.
From his appearance alone…
‘He really does look like someone who’d excel at inquisitions.’
In one hand, he held a Bible; in the other, a bell.
A priest with dark shadows under his eyes, graying hair, and a battered old robe that made him seem older than he was.
His lifeless eyes and even darker demeanor carried an oppressive air.
To others, he might be intimidating.
But to Ihan:
“So, are you leaving or not?”
“……”
He was merely someone Ihan contemplated smashing over the head.