Chương 59: Why? (B1 Epilogue)

Frederick barely remembered what happened after the fight with the serpent. He barely made it back to the orphanage alive, stumbling and delirious from the snake's venom. It was a miracle he had even made it through the mountains safely, let alone had the presence of mind to bring back his 'proof.' Now, he was laying in a spare room in the orphanage, his entire right arm bandaged so thoroughly it looked more like a linen club than a limb. That was an improvement over how it had looked before he got healed, though.

He tried to bend it, but even that slight motion sent a wave of pain shooting up from his elbow to his neck.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a voice from beside him. Frederick whipped his head to the side, having not realized he wasn't alone. The old Abbess was sitting beside him, glaring down at him with another linen-wrapped bundle in her lap. It was long and oddly shaped, and it took Frederick a few seconds to recall what it was. Oh right, he thought. I brought the arm back.

"If I was an ordinary healer, you would be dead right now," she said.

"And if I was just slightly less good, you would have lost your arm. It's a miracle you're all in one piece right now, and it'll be six months before your arm fully recovers. That snake that bit you was a nasty one." I still got it in the end, though…

"Thank you for healing me," he said, bowing his head as much as he could in his position.

"I owe you my life."

"Oh, you owe me much more than that," said the Abbess.

"For example, answers."

"I don't—""Where's the rest of her?" she demanded.

"And don't give me that lie you fed the other inquisitors. A snake ate the rest of her? Seriously? You're lucky they didn't look any closer. I've been reattaching limbs for twice as long as you've been alive, and you'd have to be an idiot to think I wouldn't recognize a sword wound when I saw one. And I know you didn't give it to her. She cut this off herself when the infection spread too far.

"So tell me, where is the rest of her?" Frederick hesitated, glancing around. He had suddenly become paranoid on his way back, after thinking so long about what happened. Ivan's orders had supposedly come from the pope, but the orders were wrong. The boy wasn't a demon, and if he wasn't a demon, that meant he wasn't lying about being a Visionary. But why would the pope want to kill a Visionary? They were second in importance only to Heroes, and were usually even more influential in the long term. So why?

"No one else can hear us in here," said Helen.

"And your other inquisitor friends are staying elsewhere. So out with it already."

"…You were right," he finally said.

"It was a Holy Duel."

"Of course I was," she snapped.

"But that didn't answer my question."

"The last I saw of the Reaper–""Igrette."

"Of Igrette, she was alive… But I doubt she is still alive now."

"And why is that?"

"She was in bad shape. She could barely stand. She had no mana. She was using the last of her strength to try and protect the boy. I… don't think she lived much longer after she left."

"And the boy?"

"He was unhurt."

"So the report you gave was false."

"It was."

"Why."

"…I don't know."

"Hmph," she said.

"Well, don't you dare count Igrette out like that. She's a fighter, and so is Jonny. I'm sure they found a way." Frederick thought back to the state that Igrette had been in when he last saw her. She was on the verge of death. There was nothing that the boy could have done to save her. But he chose not to voice his concerns to the already-grumpy Abbess. It looked like he would be here for a little while, so he could try to let her down easy another time.

"Maybe," he said.

"Hmph," said the Abbess again, crossing her arms.

"Well, I don't like your answers much, but at least you're honest. You still owe me a lot more than that, though. Like, for example, why did they send inquisitors after a Visionary?" The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"I've been wondering that myself. I don't understand. Why would they do that? And why did they–? Why did Ivan have to be the one…?" The Abbess glared at him for a few seconds longer, then sighed, the tension and anger lessening.

"Well, I won't bother you any longer," she said, standing up, and taking the wrapped-up arm with her.

"Breakfast will be in shortly. Don't you dare try to feed yourself again. If Lucy tells me you tried to take the spoon from her again, I'm going to use a weaker pain reduction spell next time I change the bandages."

"Y– Yes, ma'am." The Abbess hmphed one more time, then strode out of the room, leaving Frederick alone with his thoughts. I just don't get it. Three months later In the middle of Feria, there was a fountain with a statue in the central square that depicted the Hero and his companions returning from their final battle, carrying the Demon King's severed head. There were five in total, with the Hero himself at the center, and the others around him.

To his right, there was the Ranger, a slight-figured snow elf from the Celian Highlands, holding a bow that the sculptor had somehow carved to appear as if it was made of mana. Behind the Hero, towering over the rest was the Defender, a titan-blooded human with shoulders nearly as broad as the Ranger was tall. In his arms, he held the body of the Mage, an elderly man who had been humanity's only 8th layer archmage at the time.

The Mage had not survived the final battle, and Frederick had been told that his body had been mangled beyond recognition, but the artist chose to portray him in peaceful repose, as close in appearance as he could get to life. And then finally, on the Hero's left stood the Healer, Peter, and the man who would later become Pope Metrus. In the statue, he was young and handsome, and wore a smile that many people—women especially—swore was enchanted to put whoever gazed upon it at ease.

It was this part of the statue that Frederick found himself staring at as he finally returned from his mission. His bandaged arm was in a sling, and while it didn't hurt usually, he still couldn't do much with it. As Helen had said, unless the pope himself chose to heal him, he would not be able to use it properly for another three months, and even after that, it would have atrophied, and he would need many more months to return it to its prior state.

He shifted his arm in his sling, and his gaze drifted downward to the base of the fountain where a group of children were tossing a ball back and forth. The children always liked to play around the fountain, and by Pope Metrus' order, the guards weren't allowed to stop them. The main cathedral was right on the corner of the square, and he said he enjoyed the sounds of their laughter to brighten his often-heavy days. Ivan had liked the children too.

He would often sit in the shade of the Healer statue and play with them when he was done with his training and had no other obligations. They had liked him too, always squealing with excitement whenever they saw him, and asking him to make the ball float for them. Frederick had tagged along with Ivan a few times, though he never found it quite as enjoyable as his mentor had. Maybe I should try again someday, he thought. I'm sure the children would appreciate it. But that day would not be today.

Today, he needed to finally report back to the Grand Inquisitor and testify on the details he had sent in his official report. It was more of a formality than anything, but lying on an official report, and lying directly to the Grand Inquisitor's face were two entirely different things. He looked back at the statue one more time, his eyes lingering on a large black raven sitting on the Healer's shoulder before turning toward the inquisitory headquarters. Thankfully, despite his worries, everything went smoothly.

The Grand Inquisitor only asked a few cursory questions about the details, before turning his attention to Frederick himself. He seemed much more concerned with Frederick's own wellbeing than the results of the mission.

"How are you holding up?" he asked with an expression of concern so genuine it warmed Frederick's heart.

"The healer said it will be another 3 months before I get full mobility back," he said.

"But it doesn't hurt anymore. Not when it's resting like this, at least."

"I didn't mean your arm," said the Grand Inquisitor.

"I meant about Ivan. I know you two were close."

"Oh…" said Frederick.

"I'm… I'm doing alright. It hurts, but I'll manage. He wouldn't want me to wallow, so I'm trying my best to keep my eyes forward." The Grand Inquisitor smiled.

"I'm glad to hear that." Frederick returned the smile, though his smile carried more meaning behind it. Whatever happened, I'm sure that he at least wasn't involved.

"Now, about your arm, the Pope himself actually wanted to extend an invitation. You are free to decline, of course, but he has offered to restore your arm for you. He said that it wouldn't do for an exemplary inquisitor like you to be out of commission for so long." A chill ran down Frederick's spine?

"The– the pope?"

"Yes, Metrus himself."

"That's– that's incredible!" said Frederick, trying to muster up some excitement.

"It's not quite as rare as you might think," said the Grand Inquisitor.

"It's rare for an inquisitor to be injured as badly as you were and make it back alive. Whenever it happens, the pope does his best to find time for them, or at least he sends for another high ranking healer to help. And it just so happens that he has an opening in his schedule a week from tomorrow."

"I– I see," said Frederick.

"I– I don't even know what to say."

"Well, you have eight days to think about it. Now, why don't you go get some food and some rest. Traveling all day has surely worn you out."

"Yes. Definitely," said Frederick, standing up mechanically.

"Thank you, sir. And let the pope know that I am grateful as well."

"Of course. I'll send you a message in a few days with more details."

"Thank you, sir."

"It's no trouble at all. Now, run along. I know you younger folk don't like being in her any longer than you have to be."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." Frederick bowed, then turned to walk away, his mind in turmoil. Despite what the Grand Inquisitor had said, he couldn't imagine his meeting with the pope being so simple. Either the pope had sent that order, or he hadn't, and in either case, Frederick had no idea how to react. Either way, he thought. If I play it right, maybe I'll finally get an answer or two…