The Spike of Conviction: The World Through the Eyes of the Witch's Apostles - Episode 6

The numbers from the vote still echoed in his head. Nine to two. Gouf closed the door to his private chamber. Soundlessly. Quietly. Not anger—something colder than anger had settled into the depths of his chest. The desk held nothing. The illumination stone cast thin shadows across the stone wall. Gouf stood motionless, staring at the back of his left hand. A hand marked by scars. With this hand, he had believed in Echidna's words. "Question the world's righteousness"—under that banner, he had fought this far. (And this is the answer we get tonight.) His exhaled breath dissolved into the stone walls. Volk would issue orders to the Craven District at dawn, he had said. When night broke, the operation would move. The man who called civilian casualties an "acceptable range" would reach toward the lower city of the royal capital. Gouf had only hours left. ——He did not sit. If he sat, he would brood. If he brooded, his choice would delay. If it delayed, it would end. Standing still, Gouf unfolded a map in his mind. The abandoned monastery of Calista—basement level one, the section where Seril was. Basement level two, the strategy conference room where Volk and the others should still be debating. Basement level three, here, where Gouf now stood. He knew the routes. He knew the guard placements. He knew where Ortz was. The problem was time. A knock sounded at the door. Once. Ortz's signal. "Come in," The door opened. Ortz's face—beneath that usual expressionlessness, something lay hidden. What it was, Gouf read accurately for the first time tonight. Resolve. "Volk has moved. He's sending a messenger to the Craven District by early morning courier. Before dawn," Earlier than expected. Gouf fell silent for one beat. "Seril?" "Basement level one, in the room next to the dining hall. Still awake," Gouf nodded. That was all Ortz needed. Fifteen years together—words became unnecessary. "If I act on my own authority, it will bring consequences down on you too," Ortz was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke. "I understand," That was all. No attempt to stop him. No words of agreement. Only: I understand. Gouf moved toward the door. —— The corridor was silent. Illumination stones lined the passage at even intervals, casting the stone floor in orange light. From basement level two, muffled voices seemed to drift upward. Perhaps the meeting continued. He did not dwell on it. He descended the stairs to basement level one. One step, then another. He chose the wall's edge to muffle his footfalls. The room next to the dining hall—a makeshift chamber, once a storage space. Light leaked faintly through the gap beneath the door. Candlelight, perhaps, or a small magic stone. Gouf knocked three times, softly. No answer came. But the light flickered. "It's me," After a moment, the door opened. Seril stood there. Still dressed, clearly not asleep. Her eyes met his. Not wariness. Not surprise—something else. Her gaze held understanding. "There's no time. Listen," Gouf did not enter the room. He remained in the corridor, speaking low and brief. "Tonight, I'm getting you out of here," Seril did not move. "Where to?" "South. Twelve kilometers beyond the royal capital lies Lindor Village. When you arrive, find the village elder, Gelt Hargen. Don't mention my name. Just say you're a child from the forest, and they'll let you stay the night," Seril's eyes narrowed slightly. "...What about you?" "I'm staying here," "Why?" A short question. Not accusatory. Simply asking for a reason. Gouf searched for an answer for a moment. "After I get you out, I'll stop Volk's messenger. That's all," "Alone?" "I'll only do what I can do alone," That was half true. Half was a lie. Seril stared at him. Her eyes measured something. Not a child's eyes. Something deeper lay in the depths of her gaze. "...You said it. That it was strange—that someone who could stop it didn't," Gouf did not answer. Not his own words being returned to him, but hers. This girl was returning her own words to him now. "So you're going to stop it," "Can you go?" He asked again. A question that did not wait for an answer. But Seril, after a brief pause, spoke. "I can go," —— The exit to the surface used the emergency passage from basement level three. The iron door was normally locked, but Gouf held the key. When he opened it, the cold night air rushed in all at once. Soil and the scent of conifers. Forest. The deep forest that surrounded the abandoned monastery of Calista. Seril stepped out first. Gouf followed, closing the door behind them. The click sounded unnaturally loud. The sky was dark. Stars scattered above, but no moon. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. Gouf handed Seril a small bag. Hardtack and a water flask. Ten copper coins. That was all. "Go straight south. When the trees thin, you'll see the road. Follow it south and you'll reach Lindor Village. You'll make it before dawn," Seril took the bag. Her hand, for just an instant, touched his fingers. Touched, or perhaps—barely overlapped. Neither spoke. Gouf withdrew his hand. It had been warm, he would think only after it was over. Seril began to walk. Small feet treading on fallen leaves. Her back dissolved into the darkness. Gouf watched. Until the very end. The small shadow vanished completely. Cold night air flowed silently. In the distance, an owl cried. Once. Gouf looked up at the sky. Stars scattered white across it. (Was this right?) The question yielded no answer. He knew it would not, and yet he asked anyway. That was how Gouf was. His hand found the door. He had to go back inside. There was no time until dawn. He had to devise a way to stop the messenger. He had to calculate when Volk would notice. There was so much to do. Still, Gouf lingered outside a moment longer. He drew the forest's scent deep into his lungs and exhaled slowly. White breath dissolved into the dark air. (Echidna said it. Question the world's righteousness.) He had questioned it all along. The kingdom's righteousness. The cult's righteousness. And tonight, even his own choice, he questioned—and yet he moved. Questioning and acting were not contradictory. Gouf thought this. For the first time, he truly thought it. He opened the door. The underground air enveloped him again. Stone's coldness, the flicker of light, muffled voices from somewhere distant. Everything was as before. Nothing had changed. Except one thing. Gouf began walking down the corridor. Toward what needed to be done, quietly, one step at a time. Dawn was still far away. But it would come. It always did.

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Episode 6

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

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