The Spike of Conviction: The World Through the Eyes of the Witch's Apostles - Episode 4

The morning of the strategy meeting had arrived. The night before, Gouf had not slept. He lay still, but his consciousness remained awake. Staring up at the stone ceiling, he repeated the same words over and over in his mind. The Weltheim faction is coming. And Gouf must provide an answer. The strategy conference room on the second basement level held more people than usual. Stone walls treated with soundproofing magic circles trapped the stale air within. The faces of the believers gathered around the table looked slightly different from those Gouf saw every day. They were tense. Or perhaps hopeful. Both expressions were distasteful to him. Three executives from the Weltheim faction were already seated. The foremost was Volk—a man in his fifties with short white hair, his eyes alone unnaturally alive. Gouf had heard he was once a provincial official of the kingdom. A man who had seen the rotted order from within and chosen to destroy it. That judgment alone, Gouf could understand. But the method of destruction was different. Beside Volk sat two others: Giene and Caldo. The younger was Giene, around thirty. He favored radical statements. Caldo was in his mid-forties, taciturn but sharp-eyed. All three turned their gaze toward Gouf the moment he entered the room. "Let's begin," No unnecessary preamble was needed. Gouf did not sit. He stood against the wall. He did not want to dominate the table. He wanted to see from above. Volk opened his mouth. "We will begin full-scale operations in the Creyvan district. The flow of funds using the Trias Company has been confirmed. The problem is that the kingdom's investigation unit has begun moving—we need to make another move to stop that movement," Gouf listened in silence. "We either bring our collaborators into the investigation unit, or we eliminate the unit itself. Either way, civilian casualties are unavoidable. I propose an operation that treats such casualties as within acceptable limits," The phrase "acceptable limits" echoed flatly against the stone walls. Gouf said nothing. Giene continued. "Even if some residents of the Creyvan district are caught up in this, it is a result produced by the kingdom's rotted order. It is not our responsibility to bear," The moment Gouf heard those words, something within him quietly solidified. Not emotion. Not calculation. Something more fundamental. (Wrong.) Gouf stepped forward. He placed his hand on the edge of the table. The air in the conference room shifted slightly. The believers held their breath. Volk's eyes narrowed. "I am in charge of the Creyvan district operations," "That's right. Which is precisely why—" "I do not permit civilian casualties," Silence. Volk's expression hardened slightly. Giene's eyebrows rose visibly. Caldo said nothing, merely watching Gouf. "What is the arrogant bishop suddenly saying now," His voice carried thorns. He made no effort to hide them. "Our purpose is to destroy the world's rotted system. In that process, if a few commoners are hurt, I don't understand why we should care so much. Sentimentality?" "It's not sentimentality," Gouf answered low and clipped. "What we're trying to destroy is the kingdom's order. The humans trampled by that order—now we trample them in turn. What changes?" "The ruler changes. That's what changes," "That's not what I'm talking about," Their gazes collided. Giene was angry. Gouf was not. He simply did not move. Volk interjected. His voice was calm. That very calmness made it worse. "Gouf. I understand your position. But this is not a place for emotional judgment. From the perspective of operational effectiveness—" "Echidna said it. Doubt the world's righteousness," Volk fell silent. "You all use those words as grounds to doubt the kingdom's righteousness. But I doubt one more thing. I must doubt our own righteousness equally. If I don't, I have no right to use Echidna's words," "Pretty words," "Whether it's pretty doesn't matter. I will not participate in an operation that involves Creyvan district civilians. This is my answer," The conference room fell completely silent. No one moved. The illumination stone cast wavering orange shadows on the stone walls. Volk watched Gouf for a long time. Not with an appraising gaze, but as if measuring something. Then he spoke quietly. "I understand. We'll table this for today. However—" He paused for a breath. "In this organization, even the opinion of a Sin Archbishop does not take precedence over the organization's decision. We will raise this as an agenda item at the next upper council meeting. You will abide by whatever decision is made there," It was not a threat. It was fact. Gouf understood that. The Witch's Cult was not ruled by bishops alone. There was a higher collective decision-making process. And the Weltheim faction held numbers within that structure. "I know that," With only those words, Gouf left the conference room. —— The moment he stepped into the corridor, the air seemed to change slightly. Outside the soundproofed stone walls lay the usual underground silence. Somewhere, a water droplet fell in a steady rhythm. The faint glow of illumination stones. Gouf walked down the corridor. His footsteps were quiet. (It will be overturned at the upper council.) He knew that. The Weltheim faction had the numbers. This organization was not simple enough that Gouf's single objection would stop an operation. What he had managed to say in today's meeting was, at best, buying a little time. Yet he had needed to say it. At a corner of the corridor, he nearly collided with a small shadow. It was Seril. She sat with her back against the wall, hugging her knees. When she looked up and saw Gouf, her expression froze. The wariness was less than yesterday. Less, but still present. "What are you doing in a place like this," "...It was loud, so I came here," The voices from the conference room must have leaked through despite the soundproofing. Gouf was silent for a moment. "What were you arguing about," "Adult matters," "I heard shouting," "I wasn't the one shouting," Seril heard this and made a thoughtful face. Then she looked directly at Gouf. "You were protecting someone, weren't you," Gouf did not answer. "I can tell from the tone of voice. They were blaming you, and you were pushing back," (This child has good ears.) Gouf leaned his back against the corridor wall. Standing still, he thought for a moment. "...I'm asking you something," "Yeah," "When Forna Village burned, what did you think," Seril's eyes changed for just an instant. The look of someone probing something deep. But she did not flee. "At first I was scared. Then I got angry. After that—" There was a pause. "I wondered why no one stopped it," Gouf said nothing. "People who could have stopped it didn't. That's what seemed most wrong to me," The corridor was quiet. Only the sound of water dripping continued in the distance. Gouf looked at the floor. The joints between the stone tiles glowed faintly in the orange light of the illumination stones. (People who could have stopped it didn't.) Those words caught on something deep within his chest. Simple words. Words a twelve-year-old child would say. Yet from a different angle, this child had already said what he had tried to say in the conference room. "...I tried to do the same thing today," He spoke as if murmuring. It was unclear whether the words were even directed at Seril. Seril did not answer. She simply lowered her knees slightly. The arms wrapped around them relaxed a little. Gouf stood up. "It's time for meals. Go to the dining hall," "...Yeah," Seril stood and began walking down the corridor. Gouf watched her retreating figure for a moment, then walked in the opposite direction. —— He returned to his private quarters on the third basement level and closed the door. He sat in the chair. The desk held nothing. Only the cold stone surface stretched before him. The upper council. When it would be convened, he did not know. Perhaps a week from now. Perhaps a month. If Volk moved, it would be soon. And Volk would certainly move. Once the Creyvan district operation was formally approved, Gouf would have two choices remaining. Obey or resist. Either choice carried a price. He understood that. (People who could have stopped it didn't.) Seril's words echoed in his mind once more. Gouf placed his finger on the edge of the desk. The cold sensation of stone. His scar throbbed. The pad of his left index finger touched the joint between the stone tiles. The answer had already been decided. But what kind of ending it would bring had also become clear in today's conference room. Volk would not back down. Gouf would not back down. Somewhere, within this organization, they would collide head-on. The illumination stone wavered faintly. Nothing was carved into the walls of his private quarters. No words like those on the training ground walls. Only cold stone stretched out. But for Gouf now, that was enough. Words no longer needed to exist on the outside. ——Then, outside the door, he heard Ortz's footsteps. Faster than usual. "Lord Gouf," Gouf stood up. "Volk has requested an immediate convening of the upper council. He is demanding urgent action," Tonight. Much sooner than expected. Gouf opened the door. Beneath Ortz's usual expressionless face lay something else. Perhaps not worry. A gaze as if confirming resolve. "Understood," With only that answer, he stepped into the corridor. The underground air seemed to grow slightly heavier.

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Episode 4

Name: The Spike of Conviction: The World Through the Eyes of the Witch's Apostles
Author: Novelia

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