Ch.47People, Lions, Bulls, and Eagles (4)

# Dusk was falling in the evening. The three people walked toward the market square.

They blended in among the people heading home, keeping a reasonable distance from each other. Farmers finishing their day’s work, merchants hoping to sell more tomorrow than they had today.

Even the children who had ruled the alleys were going home. Some were being dragged by their ears, but most chattered away like morning sparrows, stumbling over their words: “Today was like this, and someone did that.”

For ordinary people who had worked hard through their day, evening was a time to cool down and a blessed rest to refill their empty bodies and minds.

But the elderly of Masada were the opposite. Like plants that absorb sunlight during the day and grow at night, they were busy releasing the heat they had stored all day into the night alleys.

Greetings. Shouts. Arguments and curses. No one tried to stop the elderly, and they didn’t care what others thought. Instead, people in the alleys responded by roughly shutting their doors and windows.

They dismissed the elders as if they were dirty oil or foam floating on a boiling pot, casually pushing them outside their sphere of concern.

The market square had now become a place exclusively for the elderly. Their plaza. Their stage. Still, the elderly held expectations for the special guests who would soon appear… There they were. A young man and woman wearing brown robes.

The square was quite spacious and open. Though there were stalls, thick trees, and rocks used as chairs scattered about, it was difficult for all three people to hide close to the gathering.

So Kain leaned against a large tree near the square’s path, while Lily stood against a building wall by the market entrance. They had all the passages under surveillance.

Maria was tasked with approaching the people gathered in the square. Kain watched as Maria took a seat among the elderly, inconspicuously but appropriately positioned.

Maria hunched slightly, like a woman with a curved back. When she made a light coughing sound, the elderly slightly avoided her, sitting to her sides and behind her. From what Kain could see, there seemed to be at least 60-70 elders.

As the moon began to appear, people lit candles one by one, and Kain recognized the face of Baolo, who had delivered sharp sermons to them.

The plan was simple.

Maria would watch for any signs of heresy during the sermon, and if there was definitive evidence, they would arrest the two after people dispersed. If there was no evidence but suspicious circumstances, they would simply write a letter to headquarters.

Fortunately, the gatherings rarely lasted more than an hour. The lights-out time for fire prevention was approaching, and after that would come the curfew. The elderly were already slow walkers, so they couldn’t extend the gathering too long if they wanted to return home safely.

The night breeze began to blow, and bursts of laughter erupted among the elderly. The southern night was strangely desolate even in early summer, perhaps because it was extremely dry and windy. Kain blew warm breath into his hands.

The darkness deepened. Staying in one place too long could arouse suspicion. Kain walked toward the increasingly animated gathering of elders, as if drawn by curiosity about the noise.

The sermon of the young man and woman became clearer.

“A shadow cannot stand alone. It must always be with someone.

But shadows are everywhere. Whether on the highest mountaintop or in the lowest pit. If someone stands there, a shadow is there too.

Shadows follow people more persistently than conscience, more tenaciously than an enemy’s sword, and cling more stickily than family love. But the shadow itself is nothing. Without the person casting it, the shadow has no meaning.

Just as you have shaped the Empire.”

Shouts of “That’s right!” erupted from all around. Baolo could be seen clapping his hands. The young man continued.

“The shadow doesn’t create the person. The person creates the shadow. The shadow merely follows and can never become the master. The shadow is a servant, the shadow is a slave, the shadow is bound.

You have shed blood for the Empire. You shed your own blood, offered your family’s blood, and sacrificed blood from beast-like humans to spare a drop of blood from your neighbors and loved ones.

Stories of monsters wearing human disguises have been passed down for generations. Like those desert dwellers. You purified this cursed land with the blood of those beasts.

You are the light, you are the hope, you are the heroes.

But how does the Empire treat you? How do your neighbors treat you? No one looks at you. Everyone just curses and mocks you. The Empire! His Holiness the Pope! They talk about peace!”

“Nonsense!”

Baolo shouted. The people in brown robes became enraged.

“But what is peace? Is peace not being able to say that something uncomfortable is uncomfortable? Is peace suppressing the desire to kill your enemy?

Is peace making everything I’ve done until now worthless? Is peace simply not fighting? Is peace truly just stuffing everything else into a box and sitting heavily on top of it to avoid conflict?

Do you love such peace? Can you accept such peace?”

“No! We cannot accept it!” the elderly shouted in unison.

“Is it peace to live like this—ignored! Hated! Cast out! Thrown away where no one recognizes you? Did you live for such peace, did you fight for such peace? No! You deserve better treatment than this!”

“Yes, that’s right! Of course!”

“So, heroes! Warriors! Let’s sing. Let’s sing together the song of the front lines. Let’s sing the military song we sang to bind the life and soul of the fallen to this world! Let’s sing the Crusaders’ song!”

A bleak and eerie song burst out chaotically. Some shouted without melody or rhythm. Others sobbed, remembering those who grew cold within their bodies.

The flag bearer, who in his youth had waved flags amid flower petals and cheers showered from above, waved his hand again as if the moon were the virgin of that day.

The pikemen who had formed formations against cavalry units moved their clenched fists up and down, just as they had once thumped their spears on the ground to keep rhythm.

“It’s too loud!”

Someone who couldn’t bear it anymore shouted from a window.

“I get it, but it’s too loud!”

“This is the peace you’ve created!”

The woman in the brown robe shouted sharply. The elderly who had been singing all stood up at once. It was as if the military song from those days had tightly bound their bodies and then lifted them up.

The elderly marched in step while singing the military song. Left foot and right foot, the flag bearer to the front. Officers to the side. The pike unit aligned in rows and columns, and the shield bearers drew their shoulders closer. As if the house with open windows were a heretic fortress, the aging veterans gradually surrounded the house.

A startled scream, attempts to stop them as if this shouldn’t be happening—the wind extinguished the candles, but soon flint sparked and light bloomed again.

“Someday! Someday the day of realization will come!” the young man shouted.

“Someday wings will rise from within the shadow. The wings will overturn the world and awaken you to whose body you have been sleeping upon all this time.

When that day comes, when that time arrives, even if you wail and cry out, it will be too late! Repent! You must repent! For those who do not repent, there is only the fire of hell!”

An ominous atmosphere hung over the square. The house that had shouted from the window quickly closed it. The sound of furniture being dragged to block the door could be heard. But the excited elderly, people who had become soldiers again, could no longer suppress their heat, anger, and rage.

As if by accident, as if by mistake, the elderly brought candles to the windows and doors. The wooden door, which had loved its sturdy owners and young children, resisted firmly to protect its masters, but could not prevent the acrid smoke rising from its edges.

The guards saw this. They rang the alarm bell, and young soldiers quickly rushed over.

“Disperse, disperse! You can’t do this! Stop, stop!”

“You disrespectful bastard! You ungrateful wretch who doesn’t recognize your own parents! Don’t you remember how your mother fed and raised you by doing other people’s weaving with her bent back and cracked hands!”

But the guards were firm.

“You can’t do this! Call for more backup! Hey! What are you doing!”

The guards gripped their short spears menacingly. They threateningly tapped their helmets and slowly but clearly thrust their spears into the gaps between the elderly. Even if they were veterans, when unarmed, and when the neighborhood’s children went this far…

“How long!”

All eyes turned to the woman in the brown robe.

“How long will you endure? How long will you keep suppressing everything as you have until now! Will you remain silent for the sake of false peace, as you always have, as you have until this moment today!”

“No!”

Old Baolo rushed forward. He grabbed and shook a short spear. The startled guard tried to let go, but couldn’t shake off the other elderly who rushed in. Even though they were guards, these were neighborhood elders, older than their own parents.

“Oil! Bring the oil!”

Someone shouted. An elderly merchant from the market swept up one of the stalls. There was a ceramic lamp stored for dark days. It seemed to be half-filled with oil. Without hesitation, the elder splashed it on the door.

“You will reap what you sow!”

“You will reap what you sow! You will reap what you sow! You will reap what you sow!”

More guards rushed in, but the elderly actively confronted them. Children’s cries could be heard from inside the house. The elderly splashed lamp oil on the closed doors and wooden window frames. Those holding candles approached one step, two steps closer.

Snap.

The sound of fingers snapping. Light rose brightly among them. The moonlight, displeased by the sudden appearance of light brighter than the sun in the middle of the night, gave way.

It was a burning flash too bright to even be called bright. Guards. Elderly. Everyone screamed, covered their eyes, and collapsed to the ground. The candles, flickering before the flash, breathed their last.

With her back to the flash, Inquisitor Maria slowly pulled back her hood. Her flowing red-gold hair was like the mane of an angry lion.

“If you are so righteous and dignified.”

Maria shook her sleeve. Her straight finger pointed at the grinding teeth of the man and woman in brown robes.

“Let’s see you testify before the light.”