Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 33

Chapter 33
The next morning, Leon left his lodging as soon as the sun rose. Part of it was because he was growing restless, but mainly, this was the time of day when few people were around to see him.
The thirteenth street of the Prima District was far removed from Blaine’s bustling downtown, tucked away in the northeast among a cluster of shanties. No matter how wealthy a district was, not all of its residents were rich. There were still plenty of people living in poverty even outside of overt slums.
With every step Leon took, the buildings around him grew shorter. Windows that should have been clear were foggy, and the people he passed looked increasingly shabby. This was a different kind of poor district than the slums.
Why would the Church set up a branch here?
Leon wondered, and El-Cid, picking up on the thought, replied, —To apply pressure.
Huh?
The answer was too brief. Realizing that himself, El-Cid began explaining what he knew.
—The Holy Church has always been like that. They put up buildings and send clergy to places where the poor, the lowly, and the marginalized dwell. That way, the local authorities are pressured into spending money on the poor, whether they like it or not. It’s basically a political protest built on goodwill.
Woah
.
—It’s more effective than just demanding that the rich be charitable. Even if it’s just symbolic, people feel less regretful when they’re ‘voluntarily’ spending money.
Leon was quietly impressed. Good deeds were undoubtedly noble, but when divorced from reality, they often led to conflict. Can something truly be called good if the result is tragic, even if the intention was pure? People who chased only ideals rarely met good ends. The Holy Church understood that and found a compromise without betraying their values.
—Kindness doesn’t mean foolishness. Just because you extend goodwill doesn’t make you a pushover. In fact, it's because clergy abandon selfish gain that they become all the wiser.
Most people didn’t understand that. Those blinded by profit were easily tempted, and those consumed by desire were easily manipulated. Clergy belonged to neither camp and so their resolve was unshakable and immovable like a mountain. Their faith rested solely in their own beliefs and the teachings of the Goddess—nothing else could sway them.
—They look to the clouds in the sky, not the gold coins at their feet. That’s why both their minds and bodies are so strong.
“I see,” Leon murmured, beginning to understand El-Cid’s words. “So you’re telling me that... they won’t fall for a half-baked lie?”
—You catch on quickly.
“Then there’s no helping it. I’ll just have to tell the truth.”
He didn’t want to declare himself a Hero while still so inexperienced, but this wasn’t the time to cling to pride. And even if he did reveal his identity, they were clergy—if he asked for discretion, they would never betray him.
Having made up his mind, Leon strode forward with confidence. It didn’t take long before he reached the Prima District, and there he noticed yet another difference from the slums.
There’s no malice here... They seem anxious, sure, but I don’t sense any intention to harm.
That was a stark contrast from the slums, where every inch of his body had bristled in defense. On closer inspection, even the expressions of the people were different.
Their clothes were worn, but their eyes were clear. There was no menace in their gazes. They weren’t casing pockets or looking over their shoulders. It was proof that trust in others still existed here.
The reason was likely the building now before him.
Leon stopped and looked up. He muttered, “The Holy Church.”
It wasn’t flashy, but it stood proudly. The symbols of the sun and moon—emblems of the Goddess—adorned its walls. The door was still closed, likely because it was so early, but he could sense someone moving inside.
The Aura flowing through his body stirred as if welcoming the presence within. It was probably the branch’s presiding clergyman.
Leon knocked lightly on the door handle. The presence inside moved toward him. Then, without a word, the door swung open.
“Who are you?” the owner of the presence asked.
“
Ah
...”
Leon had meant to greet them, but the words caught in his throat. And no wonder—the person who was standing behind that door wasn’t exactly what Leon had imagined.
Pointed ears. Androgynous features, sculpted with delicate grace—there was only one race with such characteristics.
It was Leon’s first time seeing a demi-human, and so he muttered without thinking, “You’re... an elf?”
“Yes,” the elf affirmed but did not show the slightest hint of displeasure.
The cassock fluttered softly, the pellegrina sewn into it symbolizing the rank of bishop. If Leon hadn’t studied at the Academy, he wouldn’t have recognized it. After all, a bishop in the Holy Church was treated as equivalent in status to a viscount.
He never imagined that such a position would be held by an elf—let alone one managing a branch in the heart of a major city.
The elf gently said, “The Goddess loves all races equally. That is why I have chosen to devote this life to honoring Her.”
Leon, feeling ashamed at his earlier assumptions, bowed his head and said, “My apologies, Bishop.”
“Think nothing of it. It is natural to question rare circumstances. I am well aware that an elf in my position is not common, so please don’t see it as an insult to me.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
The bishop smiled kindly and led him inside where they seemed to be preparing breakfast as a thin rice porridge was bubbling gently in a pot, filling the room with a pleasant aroma. At the smell, Leon’s empty stomach gave a loud growl.
He looked away in embarrassment, but the bishop handed him a bowl and said, “If you’re hungry, please join me. My name is Caesare, and I’m the bishop assigned to Blaine.”
“Ah, I’m Leon. I am an adventurer.”
Caesare the Bishop smiled as he ladled out the porridge.
“I see. Yours is a name I’ve heard often of late. You’re the one who cleared out the monsters in the sewers and beneath the city walls, aren’t you? Thanks to your efforts, the water quality has greatly improved. We’ve had far fewer people falling ill. The Goddess surely smiles upon your deeds.”
“
Haha
, you flatter me,” Leon replied, slightly embarrassed by the praise.
“Not at all. I could say it a hundred times and it still wouldn’t be too much.”
Thanks to Caesare’s warmth, Leon soon found himself at ease. Over several bowls of porridge, the two exchanged light conversation. It wasn’t until they finished eating that they got to the heart of the matter.
Caesare set down two cups of coffee as he said, “Well then, Leon, tell me what brings you here.”
He had already realized Leon came with a purpose—and before hearing it, he wanted to get a sense of the man himself. Fortunately, the result was more than satisfactory.
Leon was an adventurer who prioritized people’s hardships, and he bore the sun’s power, the very blessing of the Goddess. On top of that, he was a young man of considerable skill who still remained humble, who apologized to other races before assuming prejudice. It had been a long time since Caesare had met someone he could speak with so openly.
“Please look at these documents first,” Leon said, handing over evidence rather than explaining with words.
Caesare took the stack of papers and began reading with a serious expression. With each page he turned, a faint flush rose in his pale cheeks.
When he finally reached the last page and set the documents down, Caesare clenched his fists tightly.
“This is a matter that warrants direct action from the Church,” he said and then paused for a sigh before continuing. “The problem lies in the source of this information. The main office won’t move based on this alone. They’ll say to hand it over to someone trustworthy and have them investigate. That will take far too long.”
Leon agreed without hesitation, “Yes, I thought the same. That’s why I came to this branch—to find someone who can accompany me to investigate Districts Twenty-Three and Twenty-Five. Bishop Caesare, is there anyone you could recommend?”
Caesare closed his eyes in thought and let out a soft groan. It wasn’t clear whether he couldn’t think of a suitable candidate or was thinking about whether this was a decision that he could make. After several minutes of consideration, he shook his head.
Not a hopeful response.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no one at this branch capable of combat. We have a few who’ve studied healing and support spells, but they wouldn’t be much help in this situation.”
“
Ah
...”
As Leon closed his eyes when his last hope began to collapse, Caesare rose to his feet and said, “I’ll go with you.”
Leon jerked his head up in surprise and replied, “Pardon?!”
“I can leave administrative duties to the others for a while. I will accompany you. The position of bishop is not meant to excuse one from hardship.”
“A-are you... truly sure about that?”
Leon asked several times, stunned by the unexpected offer. A bishop himself, offering to come along? He’d hoped for a paladin or maybe a few escorts—nothing like this.
Caesare, however, seemed to take it a little differently.
“
Hmm
, do I seem unreliable to you?”
Before Leon could reply, Caesare rolled up the sleeves of his cassock and held out his palms. They were rough and scarred—hands that had seen battle, unbefitting of an elf. Then, as if that weren’t enough, his palm ignited with a vibrant blue flame.
Leon reflexively sprang backward. The power surging in Caesare’s hands was anything but ordinary. Not only was his Aura clearly materialized—it had taken the form of flames.
This skill was called Aura Fire. When Aura reached its maximum density, it seeped out and ignited the surrounding air. A couple of strikes in that state would tear through even mithril like paper.
El-Cid remarked, —Wow, this guy’s pretty strong.
Unable to hold back his curiosity, Leon asked,
How strong are we talking?
—He’s on par with that thug from yesterday. But unlike him, this guy has solid fundamentals and knows how to wield holy arts. That alone gives him at least a two-step advantage. I don’t know his exact background, but he’s definitely got a lot of real combat experience. Cheap tricks of the slums won’t work on him.
So he’s the real deal!
As Leon fell silent in shock at El-Cid’s assessment, Caesare withdrew the Aura from his hands and said, “What do you think? I won’t be dragging you down.”
To that, Leon replied, “I’m more worried I’ll be the one dragging you down, Bishop Caesare.”
“Haha, don’t flatter me too much. Fifty years ago, I was a member of the Holy Iron Inquisitors, but I’m just a retired old soldier now.”
“T-the Holy Iron Inquisitors...!”
They were the true strength of the Holy Church and the name that always came up when talking about the continent’s mightiest forces. If Caesare had been a member of that legendary order, then his power made perfect sense.
Leon felt a surge of trust toward Caesare. He had unexpectedly gained an ally worth a thousand troops.
“Thank you so much for offering your help, Bishop Caesare!”
“Likewise, Brother Leon. I’ll be counting on you.”
They shook hands firmly. As they exchanged grips, Leon was once again impressed by the strength and hardness in Caesare’s hand, and a question naturally formed on his lips.
“Bishop Caesare, are you perhaps a martial artist? You’ve got calluses that don’t look like they came from swordplay.”
“Oh, no. I’ve dabbled, but I never had the talent to punch my way through things. So I trained in a weapon more suited to me.”
“And that weapon is...?”
“Would you like to see it?”
As Leon nodded without hesitation, Caesare rose from the table and walked to the storage room at the back of the living room. He probably kept it there since he had no use for it on a daily basis.
Regardless, Leon was ecstatic to see a weapon used by a former member of the Holy Iron Inquisitors. From the brief read he got through the palm of Caesare’s hand, Leon could tell it was formidable. Just what kind of weapon could result in hands like that? He began picturing all sorts of arms.
A halberd? A morning star? Battleaxe? Maybe a Warhammer?
The Holy Iron Inquisitors didn’t standardize their weapons. Though called a knighthood, they didn’t train for group tactics. Each member was absurdly strong on their own—that’s what made them the continent’s greatest force. Their weapons, too, were as varied as their members.
Which was probably why the weapon Caesare returned with defied Leon’s imagination.
With a heavy
boom
, the floor cracked apart, leaving it looking as though a meteor had struck. Stones scattered in every direction, pulverized, and the wind sliced through the room with an eerie, shrill howl.
What Caesare held was a substantial chain with a massive iron ball attached, larger than a cannonball. The chain was so thick, Leon doubted even a sword could cut it.
Then, with a heavy
whoosh
, the chain in Caesare’s grasp spun so fast the iron ball was a blur. It had to weigh dozens of kilograms at the very least, and a glancing blow from that thing could kill a man instantly.
Leon broke into a cold sweat as he stared at the terrifying sight. Every preconceived notion he’d had about elves was shattering. Slender frames, agile movements—he never imagined an elf would wield something like that.
In contrast, Caesare beamed brightly.
“
Whew
, yes. It’s been a while since I felt that grip. Back in the day, smashing heretics’ skulls with this flail brought me such satisfaction... Even now, I feel my blood boiling.”
“...”
“Evil must be eradicated. Sin must be punished. The Goddess watches over our holy war—don’t you agree?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
“Of course, Brother Leon. Without a doubt!”
Overwhelmed by the intensity in his voice, Leon took a step back. There wasn’t a hint of malice in Caesare—only genuine virtue. Yet the flail in his hands was still spinning with terrifying force.
Leon, speechless, complained to El-Cid.
Hey, you said they’d all be softies?
—...
You told me to trust you? Because you’re a Holy Sword?
—Now that I think about it, what does that have to do with anything?
That’s what I said!
And just like that, Leon had another piece of evidence to add to the “El-Cid is a cursed sword” theory.