Iron Blooded Hound

Chapter 78: Bound by Honor

"Dolores L. Quovadis."

A saintess who turned 16 this year, she is the most probable contender to lead the Quovadis family in the future.

An undisputed wonder of the Supreme Foundation Colosseo, she hasn't missed a solitary class since she entered her first year utilizing the early confirmation framework, and presently in her sophomore year, she is the VP of the understudy chamber.

Her appearance helped Vikir remember a time before the relapse.

In the far-off past, she had been a saintess, heading out to the front lines of battle against demons and healing the sick, showing firsthand what it meant to be a living saintess.

Called an angel of the battlefield, she saved countless lives, a living example of goodness.

Though still young, she already has serious areas of strength and a clear mind.

Vikir, like all people who have survived the Period of Annihilation, had respect and warmth for the young saintess.

Vikir bowed his head, and the paladins nearby followed suit.

Dolores stopped, too.

Her senses were acute, and she could smell the animal aroma of Vikir's soul, the scent of blood, oil, and violence, anger, and hatred.

And at the center of all those swirling emotions, the scent of a terrible sorrow, buried deep within.

"Are you a lost sheep?"

"Yes."

Vikir replied with a choked throat.

Dolores nodded.

"You look more like a... puppy than a sheep."

"A scarred little pup."

As Dolores finished speaking, the faces of all the paladins gathered on the main floor turned a shade of red.

Mozgus shouted as well.

"Paladin, that's not a puppy! That's a blood-frenzied wolf! You really need to step back now...."

"Bring me tea."

Dolores lifted her hand to silence Mozgus.

Then, she said in a very firm tone.

"I want to talk to him."

Soon, a small parlor was set up with a table, chairs, and two teacups.

Warm, steaming cups of peppermint tea.

At the entrance to the parlor, a large Mozgus stood fidgeting.

In his hands, he held a small teapot with a floral design that resembled a large ring.

A small table was set in the center of the room, and Bikir and Dolores sat opposite each other.

Dolores sounded surprised.

"When I heard that Mr. Mozgus had emerged, I was surprised and came to see you, since I thought you intended to get hurt a lot."

Mozgus has the disposition and reasoning of an inquisitor. So does his body.

So there was no apparent reason for him to warmly welcome the dubiously dressed visitor.

However, who knew?

That the one who was the tactical backbone of the Quavadis would be crushed so terribly.

Suddenly, Mozgus cleared his throat from near him.

"Saintess. I didn't lose. If it had been a big picture approach, the odds were most certainly in my favor...."

The mere fact that he says this is a sign of defeat.

Dolores thought to herself.

"Mr. Mozgus was one of only a handful of exceptional Graduators in the Domain, and if he can be defeated with such ease, I can't imagine the reason why anyone would want to...."

She looked at Vikir's mask before her.

But, there was nothing she could read in it.

As Vikir stared down at the teacup before him, Dolores spoke again.

"I don't think you can drink tea with that gas mask on."

Vikir nodded silently.

He hadn't said anything since before, so Dolores decided to get straight to the point.

"I've been under a lot of stress lately."

Vikir's head perked up at her words.

Concerned about what? The studies at the institute? Or a homeschool class?

But, Dolores shook her head.

"I'm taking a break from the institute and my family's affairs because it's time to rest. It's the aristocrats and merchants you saw just now who are really bothering me."

They dragged their sick bodies to the saintess and begged her to heal them.

Unwanted guests, asking for money or fame.

"The things they ask me to fix are obvious: erectile dysfunction, sexually transmitted diseases, drug side effects - nothing really challenging."

If he had the divine ability to heal them, Dolores said, he'd rather help people who are truly struggling and sick.

"Justice, nobility, charity, equality, and the will of God may be these things... but people are too blinded by what's in front of them."

Vikir nodded in agreement.

"This is inevitable, since philosophy is essentially a course of understanding people."

It was a phrase he'd often heard from her mouth when he'd met Dolores on the front lines of the conflict before he'd relapsed.

Vikir had only briefly recalled a memory from some time ago, but Dolores' eyes widened at the sight before her.

Even Mozgus, who stood in the doorway.

"Hebrew Scripture, Azmoth, part 6, chapter 9. Very philosophical and significant."

"...."

"I can't quite believe that you know these ancient words. You must be well-versed in philosophy. Are you a member of the Congregation of the Runes?"

Vikir was silent for a moment.

He didn't know or care about Runes, the state religion of the Domain, so it seemed a good time to redirect the conversation.

"More than that. There is a plague in the ghettos of St. Mecca."

"... Is that reliable information?"

"You've seen the water in the streets. It comes directly from the wells of the ghettos."

"You had nothing to do with it?"

"For what other reason could I have come here willingly?"

Again, Vikir spoke.

"I hate to see innocent people hurt. Especially since this is my home."

"Oh, is this your home? I'm from here, too."

Dolores' eyes sparkled at Vikir's words.

It was the first time she had heard of his homeland, so Vikir simply shook his head.

"I believe in absolutes, too. I hope the plague will be eradicated soon."

"A harsh soul, but... a good one, you are."

Dolores turned serious.

"You told Mr. Mozgus earlier that you saw some suspicious individuals, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I saw them pouring liquid into vials all around the wells."

"If this plague is man-made... who spread it and for what reason?"

Dolores seemed to be thinking a lot.

Plagues are not a simple matter.

When a plague starts to spread, the hardest hit are institutions where many people reside in community, typically monasteries and schools.

When a plague hits a monastery, the number of priests decreases, and cults, religions, and superstitions begin to flourish, necessitating even more priests.

Thus, when ignorant and inexperienced priests go out into the field, more blasphemies, cults, superstitions, etc. are created.

So, in the event of a plague, the Quavadis would be at a significant political disadvantage.

To prevent this from happening, they would need to quickly suppress the Red Death.

Vikir's response was succinct.

"The ones

who stand to gain the most are the Leviathan and the Common."

The extremely poisonous Leviathan will use this potential opportunity to collect samples from various patients, research, analyze, and improve the plague to use as their own weapon.

Since they are a family that uses poison and medicine as their main weapons, the fact that a strong plague has spread is a very good thing for them.

Moreover, the oligarchic common were also likely to see significant glossy gains.

Gold and silver fortunes do not vanish in a plague.

The deaths of the doctors would bankrupt the landlords, and their warehouses, gold and silver coins, banknotes, and production facilities would be taken over by the common.

Once the common has consumed the dead and empty factories, farms, shops, businesses, and other land capital, they can use their accumulated wealth to start new businesses.

Fashion companies for the newly rich, health supplements for those who remember the horrors of the plague, etc.... sales will skyrocket.

'Merchants from common families could visit Balak's towns and try to buy up prongs and ginseng and such things, right?'

Vikir thought to himself.

'The ones spreading the Red Death must've been Leviathans, the fanatics.

And they probably have a common partner as an ally.

No doubt, they were trading information with each other.

The staunch Quavadis and the natives of the wilderness are the substitutes.

"... Therefore, consequently, I believe they may be very familiar with the plague. Just a speculation, of course."

Vikir had actually seen, heard, and experienced the events before his relapse, and he was able to sort through them a bit.

What?

I don't feel much of a reaction from the front.

"...?"

Vikir tilted his head slightly, as if searching for something.

Then, he looked at the faces of Dolores and Mozgus behind the gas masks.

Both were frozen completely still, their mouths half open.