Ch.61Report on the Downfall of Humility (9)
by fnovelpia
Kain walked toward the guard post. The shift change was happening just then. Thanks to the previous guard who introduced him, he avoided the hassle of having to introduce himself again. Kain explained his business.
“I’m here on the Inquisitor’s orders. I’m going to visit the Lady of Humility again, so I’ve come ahead to prepare.”
This was the excuse he had prepared with Maria and Lily. If all three had arrived together and then he entered alone, it would look suspicious to anyone watching, but saying he came ahead to prepare would seem plausible.
Seemingly satisfied with the explanation, the newly changed knight carefully examined Kain’s Imperial sword and staff.
“You’ll need to keep those secure.”
Kain assumed this meant not to draw his weapons carelessly. But the knight came out with something completely unexpected.
“If you get robbed, you’ll never find them again. And theft is just the beginning! Lying, throwing stones, occasionally splashing water—it’s all commonplace here. Children and adults alike! Some adults even encourage the children! We collapsed one house as an example, and they never did it again. Don’t know whose house it was, though.”
“…You destroyed someone’s house without even knowing whose it was?”
Despite Kain’s reproachful question, the knight didn’t bat an eye.
“If you can call a piece of junk that collapses after three kicks a ‘house.’ Besides, they’re all in it together anyway. Did you know? There’s not a single chapel in the eastern district. The chapels are only in the west. If you were to build something, you’d need to store materials, but I guarantee they’d disappear within 30 minutes.”
Another knight chimed in. He too seemed to have quite a lot bottled up.
“Sure, Imperial peasants are also uneducated, stubborn, and mischievous, but these people are even more detestable and disgusting. Probably because they’re only half mixed with Imperial blood. A half-breed is always more repulsive.”
“Watch your tongue. Some might be only a quarter mixed.”
The two knights snickered. Kain calculated how much longer he would have to endure to get his passage permit. He decided to bear with it for now. He could easily overturn them if he wanted. But hadn’t he firmly promised Lily and Maria that he wouldn’t act on his own?
“So be careful, that’s what I’m saying.”
The knight winked and lightly touched Kain’s arm.
“If you’re so inclined, this is the easiest place in the world. You know how sometimes a ripe fruit falls with a thud even when nobody touches it? Everyone here seems frustrated. Even those who aren’t will become so after arriving. Day and night make no difference. They whine all night long. Even listening to cats in heat can make one lonely after a while. Let alone these almost-human creatures…”
“It’s because they have no culture. No culture,” the other knight interjected pretentiously. “Instead of healthy, constructive culture, they only have that. Do they work properly? Do they believe in God properly?”
“They’re always covered in dirt and carrying farm tools all day. How can you say they don’t work properly?”
Kain asked in disbelief, but the knights waved him off as if he didn’t understand.
“Do you know what they’re doing? With nothing to do inside the walls, they go outside trying to plant date palms. The funny thing is, while the land here is barren, it’s not suitable for date palms. They’re completely wasting their time. Just pretending to work!”
“You know there’s nothing to do here, but when we tell them to go elsewhere in the Empire, they don’t listen. Their excuse is good, of course. They say they look like this, so they’d be shunned and insulted elsewhere in the Empire.
Well, instead of trying twice or three times harder than others, they just make excuses. Work harder than others! Who would discriminate based on looks? Just look at our Lady of Humility!”
“But honestly, between us,” the other knight lowered his voice and whispered to Kain.
“Even the Lady of Humility is a bit… you know? There are beautiful men and women who make you go ‘wow,’ but there are also people who make you go ‘ah…’ and stare in curiosity. What can you do? That’s just how she looks.”
“Appearance matters. Even if a lion has the heart of a rabbit, a lion is still a lion. Nobody cares when a rabbit eats grass. But when a lion eats grass, everyone finds it strange.”
“She’s undeniably a hero of the Empire,” Kain stated calmly. The knights looked at each other and laughed.
“Who doesn’t know that? What I mean is that if she weren’t a hero, she’d have nothing else going for her. Just like my friend and I would struggle to find food if we weren’t knights.”
Kain maintained his silence. The two knights, suddenly embarrassed, gave awkward laughs.
“Anyway. Since it’s a den of thieves, keep your sword and staff secure, and if any brazen—”
A sound like “dong” was heard. The knight frowned.
“It’s starting again. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit before going in.”
Dong. Dong. The sound of drums came from up ahead. “What’s happening?” Kain asked, covering his ears.
“Some ritual to appease the dead, something like that.” The knight spat on the ground in disgust.
“We see it almost every other day. Children die in droves here. Not a good environment to raise them. Whether they have problems because they keep having children, or they have more children because of their problems… talk about a vicious cycle. Wait, wait! Where are you going?”
“Please give my regards to the Inquisitor.”
Kain left them with just those words and turned his back. He needed to hurry. Even during their conversation, dozens had already gathered. There were well over a hundred people, and more were coming.
Among the people holding torches stood the Samaritans. When the “dong” sound was heard, they leaned their bodies to the left, and when it sounded again, they leaned to the right.
It would have been strange enough if one person did this, but when many people showed the same movement in unison, it was incredibly eerie.
Those holding torches didn’t move at all. The same went for those offering burnt sacrifices. But all of them were completely silent.
In silence, they moved. In stillness, they shuffled their feet. People were packed so densely that even looking back, the guard post flag was no longer visible.
Kain pushed through the Samaritans, moving forward. He tried to be careful, but it was difficult among people swaying their bodies from side to side.
One Samaritan looked at Kain. One became ten, and ten soon became a hundred. All who could see Kain watched his movements without saying a word.
It was just watching. People swaying their bodies left and right like pendulums, in rhythm with the drum. Kain didn’t protest against their silent gazes. But he wasn’t intimidated either. He just steadily moved forward.
Eventually, he saw the drummer by the well.
The drum was merely a water bucket with poorly skinned leather forcibly stretched over it.
The drumstick was a crudely carved piece of wood in terrible condition. With each beat, Kain could see fur and dust rising like a mirage.
The drumming skill was also terrible. The arms were thin, and the drumstick was slightly bent, so instead of hitting the center of the drum, it kept hitting the edges, creating “tuk” and “tak” noises.
Yet the dull drumbeat mixed with noise carried quite far. Dong. Dong. Each time, a small cloud of dust rose.
White garments fluttered from a white dome-shaped house. The Lady of Humility walked out from behind a pillar. She appeared even more composed and dignified than before.
“…!”
Those holding torches made a strange sound. It was as if air pulled up from the lower abdomen was desperately escaping after hitting the chest and throat in various ways.
Kain recalled a story from his childhood.
In the desert, there was a large pit where a wide-mouthed worm lived. The worm would sing to frighten its prey. If you ran away hearing the song, it would feel your footsteps’ vibrations, dig through the earth, and catch you.
The resonating ground of Emmaus. A strange song that tore at the heart, grabbed the ankles, and kicked the back of the knees. If not for his staff, Kain would have fallen.
“It will come!”
Those with torches shouted.
“It will come! That time will come! When that moon hangs in the sky again. When the sunken rises, the soaring falls, the wealthy starve, and the oppressed become oppressors! The day of repayment will come, the day of reaping what was sown will come! It will surely come!”
The wind blew fiercely. It was so violent that no one could stand straight.
Eventually, it became a whirlwind. One might think it was just a common wind often seen in open spaces, but even a miserable beggar can become either a saint or a rogue depending on where they die.
The whirlwind grasped the torches and the soot from burnt entrails together. It soared up, up toward the sky.
Look. Here is your child. Your child who died in flames is here. Do not turn away!
The earth lifts its dead child to the sky.
Look! Look! I accuse you, I plead with you!
“Let’s go!”
Someone jumped into the well in anger. He was an ordinary person, no different from other Samaritans.
Yet he beat his chest in uncontrollable rage. Even as his chest turned bright red and began to bruise blue, he didn’t stop. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails pierced his palms, and blood dripped, drip, drip, spreading in the well water.
“Mother! Let’s go save Mother! Let’s go save Mother! Don’t leave her in their clutches! With our own hands, let’s take Mother to the sky!”
The earth responded. Through the mouths of the Samaritans who had been trampled, crushed, and consumed more dirt than bread and more tears than water, the earth responded. Where is my daughter, the earth cried out. Where is my daughter, carved in cold stone, the earth asked.
“Mother said. That time will surely come! She promised that punishment would fall from heaven, that day would come! But when is that time? Was it this morning when Mother passed away? Will it be tomorrow when we all die on this land? It is now. It must be now!”
Everyone raised their fists and shouted.
Kain realized one thing. There were no elderly among the Samaritans. Even the oldest wouldn’t be more than mid-thirties. Of course. They were the illegitimate children of the Great Temple.
These people. This very first generation. They grew up harboring hatred, grew up with resentment. Starting with the mother who cared for them. Starting with Rabbi Shajar al-Durr.
Yet they are Imperial citizens. They committed no sin. Though born in sin, it was neither their fault nor their sin. The Empire even shackled them with the title of Imperial citizens.
But that was all. The Empire didn’t embrace them. It glared at them. Trampled them. Insulted them. They grew up in a neglected pen. With herbs that induced visions. With doctrines of hatred and resentment. In the midst of suffering that engraved those doctrines into their bodies and minds.
They would speak hatred upon hatred until they died of old age. Until they saw their grandchildren, and if lucky, their great-grandchildren.
‘Is this what Arianne wanted to show me?’
As if in response, Arianne walked out from between the pillars.
In her right hand, she held a long sword. The handle was long enough to hold with both hands and still have room, likely because the blade seemed to be over a meter long.
The fact that she could carry such a sword lightly in one hand, and horizontally at that, was partly because the sword’s center of gravity was well-balanced, but also because the blade was thin.
It was a curved sword.
A sword as thinly curved as if a crescent moon had been plucked from the night sky. The eerily raised blade scattered light. It was so sharp that just looking at it for too long seemed like it could cut one’s eyes.
Arianne’s body wobbled momentarily. Silently stepping forward with her left foot, she extended the sword into the air. She seemed to pause briefly before raising it toward the sky. Slowly, slowly.
The people’s lamentations are like the night wind of the desert. Even the worn-out grains of sand twist in agony again at the screams.
The wind endlessly claws at the desert, creating new sand dunes each time. Like scratches made with fingernails.
The moon reached its zenith in the sky. As if listening carefully to a sound like “heiyaat,” it then strikes the ground without hesitation.
Whoosh. The sword creates wind.
The wind that takes its first step into the world bursts into primordial cries.
The crescent moon that has fallen to earth and become a sword, the crescent moon banished from the sky, as if constantly trying to find its place again, as if trying to cut down the sun that slandered it.
As if the moon of the earth is the real moon, and that moon rising from the other side of the sky is not real, the earth’s moon rises, and rises, and tries to rise again.
Ah. But.
The crescent moon ultimately cannot escape the earth. In sorrow, in pain, the Samaritans screamed. The sound of rolling feet gradually intensifies.
Run away. Run away. The predator comes behind. Run. Run. Your steps will save you.
Unfortunate is that which should have risen but did not. Unfortunate is one who did not receive blessings when they came. That which should have risen but did not will be shattered…!
Arianne raised the curved sword. She aimed at the falling sun in the sky. Sunlight flows like blood on the blue blade and drops into the well.
Everyone’s gaze falls on the well. The precious well where they last held and laid to rest their rabbi. Their mother. Their teacher. To our oasis.
The curved sword cuts the well water. The well is not just a well. It is where the mother died and bled, a well that reflects the sky. So it is only natural that a crescent moon resembling a sword rises there.
Listen. Not even a splash is heard. Look. Not even a ripple forms. Does the moon that cuts through the night make a sound? Does the darkness torn by moonlight writhe in pain?
The crescent moon that has risen in the sky embraced by the earth throws a blue light, as if mocking the setting sun.
“The moon has risen from the earth. The promise will be kept.”
Arianne was silent for a moment. As if trying to catch her breath.
“Children of the earth. Precious children. Return. Sharpen your blades and wait until the promised day comes.”
But soon her expression turned to dismay. The Samaritans did not retreat.
“Until when!”
Those holding torches, those who had jumped into the well, those covered in dirt and salt, shouted.
“Until when? Until when? How much more must we endure? How much more must we bear? How much more must we forge! Justice! Revenge!”
A familiar scene flashed before Kain’s eyes. The victims who had been writhing alive, who had lost their will to live trapped in their own flesh. And Brother Guido who smiled innocently beside them.
‘Revenge. It’s like a magical spell. A word that resonates with the heart much more than hymns!’
The pitiful one who said people regained their will to live at the word “revenge,” who was dragged away after becoming part of the beast’s body.
And his own words, asking if they didn’t want revenge.
As if the drug’s effect was wearing off, Arianne staggered. Her legs seemed to keep getting tangled. Finally, she sat down.
Kain pushed through the crowd and moved forward. He plunged into the well and then climbed up to the white house. He supported Arianne with one arm.
“Save me…”
The Lady of Humility whispered so only Kain could hear.
“Save me from this hell… Please.”
Arianne collapsed. Kain called for someone to bring a water pouch. Conscientious people ran over, fetched water, and handed it to him. Together with the people, he sprinkled water on her and massaged her limbs.
Arianne smiled. It didn’t seem like she wanted to smile. Her body was trembling, but the corners of her mouth were being pulled up.
“Room… to the room… hee. Heehee… eheehee… let’s go… heehee… I’ll show you… something amazing…”
Kain picked up Arianne. Before anyone could stop him, he ran to the room with the double doors. He opened the door, laid Arianne on the bed, locked the door, and then pushed a desk against it to block it.
Once safety was secured, he turned to Arianne. And was shocked.
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