A single rumor had taken the Holy Kingdom by storm.

It was a tale of debauchery among the cardinals, of profane appetites and sordid backroom deals.

“I heard Cardinal Key and that girl from the tavern… Laura… they’re involved.”

“And Honorary Cardinal Pain? They say he hunts men for sport.”

What began as hushed whispers snowballed, gathering momentum with each passing day until, a week later, it had become an avalanche threatening to bury the church.

A heavy tankard slammed onto a wooden table.

“Damn it all! How does any of this make sense?”

The Morning Sun, a shabby but respected tavern in the capital, rang with the bitter grievances of mercenaries.

“Some of us break our backs for three thousand gold, and that bastard burns through thirty thousand on some wench in a single night!”

A mercenary drained his mug in a series of harsh swallows and slammed it back down.

“Ugh! How is the world fair?”

Carlie, a local mercenary, spat a curse after downing a mug of flat, tasteless ale. 

There was only one reason for his foul mood: the whispers that had poisoned the city for the past week. Tales of cardinals who lived in obscene luxury, who hunted humans for their amusement.

In truth, the nature of the rumors hardly mattered to Carlie.

It was a shock, yes, to learn that the clergy he had once trusted were only men, but he had long ago learned that corruption was the currency of the powerful. The nobles he had guarded during his years as a sellsword were a vile enough lot.

No, the source of his fury was far more personal. It was the rumor about Cardinal Key.

“Shit!”

Carlie’s gaze drifted to the other side of the tavern, where a young woman with orange hair moved with practiced grace, an apron tied around her waist as she poured ale.

Her name was Laura. The same Laura from the whispers—the one said to be entangled with Cardinal Key.

I loved her first.

Carlie bit his lip, tilting his tankard again and again, though it was long empty. 

Beside him, his comrades shared weary glances that said, Here we go again.

He ignored them, letting out a ragged breath.

Why? How could a man of the cloth covet a woman? And why, of all the women in the world, did it have to be her?

“…It can’t be. It just can’t.”

“Ugh, the idiot’s drunk again. C’mon, Paltoon, get him out of here before he makes a scene.”

“Agh, he’s heavy.”

His comrades chuckled as they moved to haul him away.

But as the burly mercenary Paltoon hoisted Carlie onto his back, Carlie shoved him off and staggered to his feet.

“Get off me!”

“Whoa!”

Paltoon stumbled, and the other mercenaries rushed to help him up.

Carlie ignored them. His face flushed crimson, he lurched toward Laura.

“Hic! Laura!”

Laura turned, her eyes widening in surprise. “Yes?”

“Is it true? That rumor. It’s not true, is it?”

“Which…?”

“Fucking hell! Did you really sleep with the cardinal?!”

The tavern fell silent. Every eye turned to Laura and Carlie.

The low murmur that followed was a venomous thing, every whisper dissecting the rumor of her and the cardinal.

And in a quiet corner, amid the chaos…

“Whew… the rumors are sure working well.”

“Of course. A job worth doing is worth doing thoroughly.”

“Still, I can’t help but feel this was a job we could have done halfway.”

Louis and Lancelot sat at a table, speaking in low tones. Beside them, Kai sipped his orange juice while Hans, keeping a watchful eye on the boy, took a long drink of his own ale.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Lancelot asked Louis, eager to know their next move.

“Well now… that depends entirely on how they react.”

“‘They’?” Lancelot echoed.

Louis nodded. “Indeed. Until now, the faithful of the Holy Kingdom have refused to think. They’ve lived with their eyes willfully shut, clinging to the belief that cardinals who serve the goddess must be paragons of virtue. However…”

His gaze flickered toward Carlie, who had just been slapped soundly across the face by Laura and was now being dragged out by his comrades.

“Now they know. They know the men they call cardinals are just that—men. No different from themselves. What do you suppose happens next?”

“Uh… a rebellion maybe?”

“In a typical kingdom, perhaps. But this is a theocracy. Think of it as one vast religious order.”

Louis took a sip of ale. “Religion is built on faith. If that faith shatters, the religion collapses. But faith, you see, is surprisingly resilient. Even if the pope and the cardinals are monsters, the people’s faith is in the Goddess herself.”

“…Then what will happen?”

“They will demand a new mediator. To prove their own faith was not misplaced, they will need a new icon to serve the goddess. A new cardinal, a new pope. And in that process…”

A smirk touched Louis’s lips. “The existing cardinals will be branded as apostates. The people will blame them for everything, reasoning that their own suffering is the price for having followed men who turned their backs on the goddess.”

“…Do you really think they’ll step down so easily?”

“They will have no choice. Or rather, they will have to pretend to have no choice.”

They would feign contrition to appease the masses. Branded as heretics, they would likely submit to a religious tribunal—having, of course, already bribed every judge.

But it won’t go as they plan.

A cynical smile twisted Louis’s lips.

The Pope had only asked him to spread rumors, but Louis believed in seeing a job through to its conclusion. For that, it was crucial they stand before that tribunal.

Once they’re there, it’s all over.

Louis finished his ale and set the empty mug down with a soft click. “In any case, our part is done for now. All we have to do is watch. How they choose to react is out of our hands.”

“…You know, Captain, sometimes I think you’re a genuine villain.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You’ll do a handstand for four hours when we get back.”

Louis shot the remark over his shoulder at Lancelot and rose from his seat.

“Argh!”

It was time to return to their quarters and wait for the inevitable.

* * *

Meanwhile, Cardinal Key, the central figure of the rumors, slammed his fist on an ornate table, his face a mask of incandescent fury.

“What in the hells are you all doing? Are you telling me you still haven’t found the source of these whispers?”

His voice rang through the chamber with rage.

Normally, he spoke gently, with an air of unshakable calm, but he had no composure left to spare.

The moment he stepped outside his sanctuary, the rumors seemed to multiply. That he devoured human flesh. That he reveled in the beds of countless women.

While some of it was fabrication, enough of it was true that his denials rang hollow in the court of public opinion.

“Damn it all!” Cardinal Key roared, his face contorted.

For the rumors to spread so far, so fast… this was no natural phenomenon. It was a scheme.

His suspicion immediately fell on Cardinal Pain and the recently arrived Baron Louis. And since Pain was also a target, it was almost certainly the baron.

But he couldn’t act on suspicion alone. He had to be certain.

“Sir Philip, what of my order?”

“The Divine Archer remains by his side at all times…”

“You call that an excuse?” Cardinal Key bellowed at Templar Philip.

He took a sharp breath, reining in his temper.

“Hah… I will handle the Divine Archer myself. You will take the Knight Commander and seize the man at once. I intend to interrogate that filth personally, with the Inquisitor-General at my side.”

“Yes, Your Eminence. I understand. When should we…?”

“Now!” Cardinal Key shouted, his eyes flashing with manic light.

Startled, Philip bowed his head and hurried from the Cardinal’s chambers.

Cardinal Key exhaled a long, shuddering breath and waved his attendants away. 

Once he was alone, he turned to face the marble statue of the Goddess that dominated the room.

“Is this Your will?” he asked the silent stone.

“…”

“Is this Your way of telling me I am not meant to be Pope? Answer me.”

“…”

He asked repeatedly, his voice growing desperate, but the statue offered no reply. 

A sneer twisted his features. “How can you expect my faith when you refuse to even answer?”

“…”

“This is not my fault. It is yours, for offering me no guidance. Therefore, I will kill the man upon whom You saw fit to bestow the Stigmata.”

The legs of his chair scraped against the stone floor as Cardinal Key rose. He turned his head, casting a final glance at the statue.

“…Stop me if You can, O Goddess.”

With those parting words, the Cardinal left the room, his mind set on ensnaring the Pope and the Divine Archer.

* * *

“Damn it.”

Templar Philip’s boots clicked softly on the stone as he walked toward the Templar quarters.

The order was currently split between the traditionalists, loyal to the Pope, and the opportunists, who sought to align themselves with the next wielder of power. 

Philip, a traditionalist by nature, had sided with the opportunists, believing it was for the future of the Holy Kingdom.

Killing the man is one thing… but is this truly right?

If only Louis died, the matter might end there. But if things escalated, the consequences would be catastrophic.

The death of even a single worshipper would be a stain on his soul he would carry for the rest of his life.

But there was no other way. That man and the Pope had conspired to create a false Stigmata. For servants of the Goddess to commit such a blasphemy… it was proof the Pope had lost his mind.

Electing a new pontiff was the only path forward.

…The Commander will understand.

No, the Commander was likely already furious. His devotion to the Goddess was more fervent than anyone’s.

He would be seething at the news that the Stigmata had been faked.

With the Commander and the opportunist faction, we have more than enough strength to seize him. We can deal with his men at the same time.

Mulling over his plan, Philip stopped before the heavy oak door of the Knight Commander’s office. He knocked softly.

“Commander. It is Philip.”

“What is it?” came the gruff reply from within.

“I must discuss a matter concerning the future of the Holy Kingdom, Commander.”

“Enter.”

Hearing the command, Philip swallowed and stepped inside.

He stood before the Commander, who remained focused on his paperwork, and began in a low, conspiratorial tone.

“Commander, I have orders from the Cardinal. We are to arrest Louis Berg. Immediately.”

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