"Embezzlement? I remember Father Gerhard leaving with a dozen or so wagons of goods — why didn't he just clear out the Church's wealth back then?"
"Ha ha, not at all."
Gerhard gave an awkward laugh. It was true he had taken the bulk of the Church's assets previously, but he'd left those few wagons of goods in Mandrake City to support his older brother's bid for the bishopric. Now he was once again penniless.
He had been planning to return to Heim's church and slowly rebuild his fortune. But to his surprise, he found an unexpected boon when he came back: piles and piles of grain stored in the church warehouse.
Mandrake's territory was in ruins and supplies were scarce — if he sold that grain, he could make a small fortune. Yet when he tried to load the grain to take it away, Sister Vivian — the nun named Vivian who worked under him — stopped him.
How could he stand for that? Besides, the head of the Maiden Order in Mandrake had perished in the disaster, and Vivian had no backing anymore. So what was there to fear?
He immediately had Vivian and the nuns who followed her arrested. He'd already planned to send Vivian to where she'd be at the mercy of high-ranking Church officials in the kingdom; now he had an excuse.
He never expected Hel to barge in halfway through.
"You're making me laugh, Count Hel. This is an internal Church matter — it shouldn't concern you."
"Shouldn't concern me?"
Hel waved her hand, and several knights rushed to the wagon and peeled back the tarp to reveal sacks upon sacks of grain.
"If I'm not mistaken, this was the grain I had temporarily stored at the Church for relief of the city's refugees."
Hel's expression grew ugly as the knights hauled the burlap sacks forward. When she saw the coarse sacks woven by the undead factories, a sliver of murderous intent flashed in her eyes.
She could not believe Gerhard's greed had sunk so low. How many gold coins could this grain possibly be worth to make him steal it with no qualms?
"Then, Father Gerhard, I want to know why grain that belongs to me ended up on your wagon."
"Uh, well — you see how this all looks," Gerhard stammered, more embarrassed than before. He scratched his head and put on a face of pitiable compassion. "I saw how many in Mandrake City were ruined by the disaster. They're starving, even gnawing on tree bark. As a man of the cloth, I couldn't bear to see them suffer. When I found so much grain in the Church warehouse, I intended to take it back to Mandrake City for relief. Surely a kind lord like Count Hel wouldn't want to see Mandrake's people suffer so greatly, would you?"
"Oh, is that so?"
Hel glanced at Gerhard's theatrics with cool disdain. To be fair, Gerhard had been a priest for over a decade — the acting and rhetoric were not without polish. Another lord might have let the matter rest for the sake of appearances, perhaps even hand the grain over to him.
But Hel was not such a lord.
Who did he think he was, trying to morally guilt her? She, a death witch, had no place for moralizing.
"So Father Gerhard, you're going to starve thousands of Heim's refugees to death in order to feed a few in Mandrake City? Mandrake's refugees are human and deserving of aid, but Heim's refugees are somehow unworthy of life?"
"Ah, this…"
Gerhard wiped cold sweat from his brow. Why was Count Hel not playing by the usual rules? It was only some grain — how serious could it be? Yet he couldn't bear to part with the gold that the wagons could bring him. He swallowed hard and, seeing the knights around him, curbed his impulse to speak rashly and adopted a more conciliatory tone.
"Ah, you see how this turned out. Since Count Hel has spoken, I won't move the grain. It's just a pity for the tens of thousands of starving people in Mandrake City."
With that, Gerhard motioned and his Church knights began to unload the grain wagons. But when they unhitched all the wagons, one was missing — the cart carrying Vivian and the other nuns remained bound.
"And what about this one?"
Hel raised an eyebrow, pointing to the remaining wagon. Gerhard's expression darkened when he saw which wagon she meant.
"Count Hel, taking your grain without permission to relieve others was wrong, I admit. But the Church's internal affairs should not be your concern."
"Then what exactly did Vivian and the others do?" Hel asked.
"Embezzlement of Church funds."
At that, Gerhard's tone grew colder.
"And the evidence?"
Gerhard fell silent. His face tightened; a demeanor cultivated by long years in superior office pressed down on Hel like a weight. Was Hel planning to interfere in the Church's internal discipline? Did Gerhard have no dignity? Although Hel commanded a powerful force and they dared not provoke her, that did not mean they had no pride.
Gerhard's friendly mask slipped away; his voice turned icy. "Are you, Count Hel, going to meddle in the Church's internal judgments?"
"I'm afraid it's rather inconvenient for you," Hel replied. "Vivian has been made our city's chief coordinator for refugee relief — she is, in effect, half an official of Heim. Without a valid reason, you will not be able to take her away today."
Hel stepped forward. Though she still looked up to Gerhard in height, the oppressive aura she exuded made him short of breath. She raised her hand, and the knights behind her all drew their long blades, ready to act at a moment's notice.
At the sight, Gerhard's Church knights also drew their weapons, but they were mostly ordinary men; facing an army of transcendents like Hel's, they had no chance.
With both sides on edge, it seemed a fight was about to break out. Gerhard's cowardice ultimately overcame his greed; he sighed long and reluctantly said,
"In that case, I'll give Count Hel this face today."