“What!? Kenya’s been put on trial by the Inquisition!?”

After reporting to Road, Reina had also contacted Zeke.

She judged that she should inform Zeke of this via communication as well.

“Understood… I’ll look into what I can do on this end.”

“Yes, please, Papa.”

And with that, the call ended.

“Mr. Zeke, what’s the Inquisition?”

And standing beside him was Issei Tanaka.

Zeke was currently at the research lab where Tanaka was holed up, adjusting Takemikazuchi and running test drives.

“Ah, the Inquisition hasn’t been active for a long time, but they were busy during wartime.”

“With the EU?”

“Not just them. It’s an old organization going back to the days when we fought with swords and guns. Their purpose is—”

The Inquisition’s history was ancient—arguably as old as the military itself.

In other words, it had been established alongside the Earthguard Empire.

Its purpose, of course…

“To root out rebels. But their methods are brutally severe.”

“You mean… torture?”

“Yeah… But Kenya’s Road’s knight now, and the Holy Knight Captain to boot. Given his position and with the Empire Sword Martial Festival coming up, they shouldn’t resort to the old ways. However…”

(Those bastards know exactly how to break a person… Damn it. To think they’d resort to such dirty tricks.)

What Zeke was worried about…

Kenya wasn’t a soldier trained to withstand special interrogation.

So if tortured, he might crack easily.

Spill that he’s Japanese.

If that got out, it would all be over.

Road would lose his support, and Kenya would be executed.

(Guess I’ll have to call in those guys…)

And so Zeke made contact.

With an old comrade from the battlefield.

“Yeah, it’s me. Zeke… Your voice is still as loud as ever. Yeah, yeah. Listen, I need a favor. For old times’ sake. Yeah. Thanks. The thing is…”

To the cute junior who’d always had his back.

“Yeah, long time no talk. Huh? No, it’s not a date. I’m a 40-year-old geezer now, and I’ve got kids… Fine, fine. Do me this one favor, and we’ll catch up.”

When you need reliable help, you lean on it.

“Hang in there, Kenya. One week. Once the Empire Sword Martial Festival starts, you’ll get out for sure. And if you win, it’ll all be resolved.”

“So boring…”

For some reason, Kenya was sitting cross-legged, staring out the window.

Apparently in the Kansai region, they called it the triangle sit—utterly trivial, but he was bored enough to think about stuff like that.

“At least give me some entertainment. Nothing to do… Guess I’ll sleep…”

Kenya flopped onto the bed.

When there’s nothing to do, sleep’s the best option.

“Too hard. No blanket either, and it’s cold.”

But the prison bed was rock-solid, and the Earthguard Empire was a chilly place overall.

Half a year since the entrance ceremony—it was around December now.

“Come to think of it, Christmas is coming up. I thought I’d finally avoid my first Christmas alone with Reina this year.”

There was no Christmas in this world—the concept originated from someone’s birthday anyway.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to exist here, so no Christmas either.

Kenya gazed at the sky through the window for a while.

The air from outside felt cold on his skin.

It was a completely drafty cell.

“Being a prison means others have been here before. No blanket in a place this cold—brutal. I wanna go home already, to Reina’s warmth and a cozy blanket.”

As he indulged in such fantasies, a soldier appeared.

“Time. Come out.”

“Finally…”

Kenya was led down a long stone corridor.

The door they brought him to opened into a massive room, and…

(Totally like a courtroom from my old world.)

It was exactly like the courtrooms he’d seen before.

The only difference: no spectator seats. Just Kenya and a few judge-like soldiers seated before him.

“Sword Silfield. Stand there.”

Kenya was made to stand facing them.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sound of a gavel echoed through the room.

In the dimly lit chamber, the Inquisition against Kenya began.

“We hereby commence the Inquisition of Sword Silfield!”

Kenya was glared down at appraisingly by the soldiers.

But he still didn’t grasp it.

What would happen from here, or Odin’s schemes.

He had no idea that from this day, his personal hell would begin.

“It should be starting about now, huh, Catherine.”

“Yes, Lord Odin. I’ll join them shortly.”

“When I first heard your plan, I thought from the bottom of my heart that you’re one nasty woman.”

“Oh, Lord Odin! Don’t praise me like that.”

In Odin’s room, a woman called Catherine sat on his lap.

A beautiful, wicked witch of a woman.

“The Empire Sword Martial Festival can’t be avoided, nor can the duel. But killing Road—er, Lord Road’s knight would cause a huge uproar. Especially with governance on the line—or rather, heading into civil war.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Osiris will lose, but there’s still worry. That’s why—”

“Yes, we’ll just have to weaken Sword Silfield. Until he can’t think straight. With this.”

Catherine fluttered out a bag of white powder.

Clearly some kind of drug.

“This is a mild poison. No threat to life, clears the body quickly. But it dulls thinking and lowers immunity for a while. Too weak to detect.”

“Ah, then it won’t be found out. But it’s a hassle—we need to leave him with enough stamina to fight.”

“The festival’s about winning in battle; a forfeit won’t satisfy anyone. But if he shows up like this and gets thrashed… Then Lord Road, Earthguard, even the world—”

Catherine wrapped her arms around Odin’s neck.

“Will be yours, Lord Odin.”

“If it works, I’ll give you a whole country. Rule it however you like—as a reward.”

“Oh, what a lovely gift. If I get a country, I could kill every day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Makes my mouth water.”

“Heh. You’re just like my little sister.”

“An honor. Lady Yumir was always my idol…”

“Wonder if he’s screaming his head off by now? Those guys are extreme… They’ll do it on their own without me saying a word.”

Odin glanced at another young man standing there.

“Who’d have thought a seed I buried long ago would sprout here… Do it right.”

“…Yes. The throne belongs to you, Lord Odin. The world must be unified.”

The boy adjusted his glasses, his eyes burning with hatred behind them.

The Inquisition.

“I-I’m telling you!”

“Don’t raise your voice, honestly… This is why tainted blood is so… Half-inferior stock, and it turns out this messed up…”

During the inquisition, Kenya was being questioned.

But no matter how many times he repeated himself, he couldn’t even tell what they were asking anymore.

And they kept scorning him as “tainted blood.”

A famous slur for half-breeds in the Empire—officially banned, but common among the older generation.

“I’ll ask again. Why did you attack our forces and rebel that day?”

“Like I said, it was Lord Road’s orders not to kill Resistance members! How many times do I have to say it!?”

“When did you receive that order? When exactly was the communication?”

“N-No, I don’t know who contacted Lord Road, but… We’d been told that all along.”

“So you weren’t ordered on the spot—you just interpreted Lord Road’s ideology on your own and acted?”

“N-No!”

“Answer yes or no.”

“B-But!”

“Yes or no. Don’t you even understand words?”

“It wasn’t my interpretation—”

Bang!

The sharp crack of the gavel.

It snapped Kenya’s focus and amplified his frustration.

Like a car horn blaring right behind you.

“When I say answer yes or no, you answer yes or no!”

“Th-Then… No!”

“So you were ordered on the spot by Lord Road?”

“No… That’s not it.”

Such back-and-forth dragged on all day for Kenya.

Meanwhile, they sat in chairs, took breaks, rotated inquisitors. But Kenya wasn’t allowed to sit.

It was already evening; he was hungry and exhausted.

“This is pointless. Next question. You injured many soldiers that day. Do you understand that?”

“That… Yes.”

“Inferior stock or Earthguard citizens—which do you value more?”

“Can’t say it like that.”

“Which would you help? Two choices: inferiors or Earthguard.”

“…”

Bang!

“Speak up!”

“I don’t have that answer.”

“Heh, I see. So you’re a traitor after all. Fine, we’ll test how long that attitude lasts.”

The soldier signaled, and a waiting one approached Kenya with a baton-like club.

“Beat him until he picks a side. Teach him some respect.”

“Guh! What the hell? What’s your goal!?”

“Goal? We’re just questioning a suspected traitor. Answer, and we stop. Better for you if you do quick.”

The soldier beside Kenya raised the baton.

Kenya instinctively raised his arms to guard.

“Again!?”

But the blow didn’t fall.

A booming voice halted it.

“Lord Org!? And Lady Lamia!?”

The inquisitors bowed to the two newcomers.

“Org and Lamia.”

Kenya remembered.

The massive, rock-like build and thunderous voice—one of the three aces from the interview that day: Org Obelisk.

“No laying a hand on that boy. I order a proper inquisition.”

And the other woman.

A stunning blonde in her thirties, like a career woman bombshell.

She winked at Kenya.

(Point scored with your son ♥ Lamia here, someday your mama.)

He sensed intent in the wink, but grateful for stopping the beating, he bowed.

“Lord Org, Lady Lamia. But this is an order from Lord Odin…”

“Yes, we’re aware. We can’t stop the inquisition, but Odin ordered us to ensure it’s done properly.”

“That…”

“Odin commanded no touching Sword Silfield, continue the inquisition that way. Got it? And he’ll have a monitor.”

“…Understood. Hey!”

“Yes, sir!”

The baton wielder stepped away from Kenya.

One soldier approached Kenya.

“Reelbelt!?”

The boy stood beside him and whispered.

“Sorry for staying quiet. I’m Lord Road’s subordinate. Been undercover… You know, infiltration.”

“R-Really…?”

The soldier was Reelbelt, Kenya’s Special A-Class friend.

Actually, he’d infiltrated under Road’s orders for intel—and to watch Kenya, hiding his strength.

With Reelbelt’s eyes on them, the inquisition committee couldn’t use brute force anymore. They glared resentfully at Kenya.

Then Org bellowed like a follow-up strike.

“Zeke’s kid! Can’t stop the inquisition, but if anyone roughs you up, remember their faces!”

His voice carried through the room—no, the whole floor.

“I’ll smash ’em flat after! Got it? Hang tough, lad!”

Org left.

“Keep at it, Sword dear? I’ll pat your head when it’s over.”

Lamia winked and exited the inquisition.

Driving home no harming Kenya.

The pressure worked wonders; their attitude toward him even softened a bit.

(Org’s a good guy. And Lamia… Kinda got that mom vibe…)

Kenya’s fatigue suddenly lifted.

“A-Anyway, today’s inquisition ends here. Dismissed.”

“Today’s? What does that mean?”

“Obviously. Still questions to ask, proof you’re no traitor.”

Kenya had assumed it was over for the day.

Back to the holding cell he went.

Even he caught on now.

“I see. Odin’s ploy to wear me down.”

“Sword, your meal. It’s not much…”

“…This is it?”

“Sorry, surveillance is tight… Even got extra bread. Hang in there, Sword. Lord Road’s working on it.”

Reelbelt brought two pieces of bread, water, and soup.

Not enough for a growing boy like Kenya.

But he needed strength to last the week.

Thanks to Org and Lamia, no physical wounds.

Just endure the daily inquisitions.

Kenya wolfed down the food, slept to conserve energy for tomorrow.

Night wind chilled; no blanket.

He curled up, shivering to sleep that night.

(It’s fine, Road. I won’t lose.)

Kenya steeled his resolve.

If the battle had already begun, endure the week, beat Osiris.

Then the world would know peace.

“He ate it all?”

“Yes, every bite.”

“Good. Tomorrow will be fun. Though he’s still got plenty of fight.”

The beautiful witch smiled at the man.

Catherine, Odin’s secretary and lover, smirked faintly.

“Can’t wait for the week after.”