People often say a brush with death can change someone completely. A wastrel might suddenly repent, or a fearless man might become timid. Death is the strongest experience of all, so such change seems natural.
But the young lord had changed too much.
“You killed a temple knight?”
When Edward told him, Frederick could hardly believe his ears. The shock was not that a knight had died, but that Edward had been the one to kill him.
The villagers said it hadn’t even been a struggle. Edward had cut the man down with a single stroke, so fast no one’s eyes could follow. But Frederick remembered Edward as someone who could hardly swing a sword properly.
It wasn’t always like that. He had trained under his father, a skilled swordsman, from a young age. But his talent had been mediocre, and when his health declined, he abandoned the sword altogether.
So how could that burly knight have fallen to him? Frederick could not accept it.
“And the priest? What did you do then?”
The events before and after the fight were just as shocking. Edward had uncovered the truth about the well, led the villagers, and even dragged back a priest of the Theos faith.
Frederick nearly fainted when he saw it. He begged Edward again and again to apologize and release the man. But the indecisive young lord had grown as stubborn as an ox.
When word came that an inquisitor was arriving, Frederick swore with a grim face,
“I will give my life for House Griffith.”
He could not bear to watch his young master dragged away and burned at the stake.
“It won’t be necessary.”
Edward only smiled faintly and waved him off. Frederick thought it was naïve bravado.
But when the inquisitor came, Edward did not yield an inch. Frederick’s knees trembled and his heart raced, but Edward stayed calm throughout.
Even when the inquisitor ordered his arrest, Edward did not flinch—he even fabricated a letter to threaten him. Where that nerve came from, Frederick could not understand.
And then—
“I settled it for five hundred thousand gold.”
“Five hundred…?”
“That’s how much water he siphoned away through fraud. He’ll cough it back up.”
Against the Theos church—an authority even queens had to bow to—Edward had extorted money. The dreaded inquisitor had left without an arrest, paying the sum instead.
At first, Frederick had been glad to see his young master taking an interest in the estate. But now, he was beginning to feel afraid of him.
“This will give us some breathing room.”
Breathing room was already guaranteed thanks to the mana water. Half a million gold was not just breathing space—it was wealth enough to live with ease.
“And Thomas, the priest, has been excommunicated. His imperial citizenship was revoked too.”
With that, Thomas lost all protection.
“Surprising. For the church to abandon one of their own…”
“He brought it on himself. In three days, we’ll hold a domain trial. Tell the villagers to attend.”
***
The square of House Griffith filled with people, all but the bedridden. Logan, too, came when he heard.
Edward Griffith would preside over the trial in place of his father, Baron Roland Griffith. The accused was Thomas, the priest.
What is he planning? Logan thought nervously. Looking around, he could see the same unease on the faces of the other villagers.
Their fury at Thomas’s fraud had flared at first, but once the inquisitor appeared, fear had taken hold. They had stormed the temple in anger, but when faced with the church’s power, they recoiled.
Though the inquisitor had departed quietly, dread lingered. Now that a trial was being held, their anxiety grew heavier.
“There he is.”
Soldiers dragged Thomas out in ropes. The villagers gasped.
“He’s half-dead…”
His clothes were torn and stiff with blood. His body was intact, but his face was swollen black and blue, his eyes barely open. Though broad in frame, he looked gaunt, like a man starved for days.
“Can he even stand trial like that?”
“What if the church retaliates?”
Even as a criminal, Thomas was still a priest of Theos. The villagers, knowing the church’s power, exchanged uneasy glances.
So the rumors were true, Logan realized. A friend who worked at the castle had told him terrible screams came from the dungeon at night—Edward himself interrogating Thomas. Logan had doubted it, but now, seeing Thomas’s ruined state, he could not.
“Scum.”
“May he rot in hell.”
A few, driven more by anger than fear, cursed aloud. But none dared throw a stone.
Thud.
The soldiers forced Thomas to his knees in the square’s center. He could not even lift his head, only staring blankly at the ground. Drool ran from his mouth as his chin sagged.
“Is he even alive?”
“Why isn’t he resisting?”
He looked less like a man than a husk.
“Is everyone gathered?”
The soldiers stepped aside, and Edward appeared. Logan stared.
The Edward he remembered had been a sickly invalid. But now, though his body was still thin and his skin pale, his eyes burned with fierce light, and his expression carried unwavering confidence.
Step by step, Edward walked to the center and swept his gaze over the crowd. The murmurs died at once. Tension thickened in the square.
“Listen well. I, Edward Griffith, will now begin the domain trial on behalf of Lord Roland Griffith.”
His voice rang out, and he read from the judgment prepared in advance.
“The accused, Thomas, former priest, spread falsehoods to slander House Griffith. He stole the rightful property of this house—the well water—and sold it as holy water. This is a crime of slander against nobility, heresy, and fraud, in violation of the laws of Aerok and the commandments of Theos. Everyone here is witness. Accused, speak.”
A soldier prodded Thomas.
“…nnn…”
Only a hoarse moan emerged.
“Do you contest the charges?”
“…kill… me…”
Thomas, once ready to abandon his followers and flee for his own life, now made no attempt to defend himself. It was as if he longed for death, as if it were his only salvation.
Seeing it, Logan turned pale.
“Then I accept your silence as consent.”
Shing.
Edward drew his sword. Logan swallowed hard.
“Thomas is sentenced to death.”
The crowd erupted in murmurs. Even the steward looked taken aback.
“Is this wise?”
“Shouldn’t someone stop him?”
Logan himself felt no pity for Thomas. If anything, he wanted to strike the man dead himself. But fear of the Theos church held him back. Even if their wrath did not fall on him personally, it would still be ruinous.
He could only hope Edward had thought this through. After all, the young lord had been clever enough to expose the fraud of the well.
“Lay him on the block.”
The soldiers forced Thomas onto a wooden platform prepared for the execution.
“Any last words?”
“…kill… me…”
Thomas repeated the same words, mind broken, even with the blade poised above his neck.
Edward raised his sword. Sunlight flashed coldly off the steel.
“Cover the children’s eyes.”
The villagers obeyed and shielded their children.
Slash!
With a single stroke, Thomas’s head was severed.
Thud!
The head rolled across the dirt toward the villagers, who recoiled in fear. Blood poured from his neck, soaking the ground.
Step, step.
Edward walked forward, boots pressing into the bloodied earth. He bent down, picked up the severed head, and raised it high. Blood dripped onto his clothes, but he paid no mind.
“If anyone dares to insult the lord’s bloodline in this land again, they will meet the same fate!”
Edward’s voice rang out as his eyes blazed. Logan felt his chest tighten. Almost everyone here had insulted Edward at one point—first in whispers, then openly. Thomas had incited them, but they had followed willingly.
“And no one in this land shall exploit another’s ignorance for profit. Is that clear?”
“Yes, young lord.”
“We understand.”
The villagers nodded quickly. Edward lowered the head.
“Frederick.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Bring what we prepared.”
At a gesture from the steward, four soldiers hauled in a heavy chest. Edward took out a key, unlocked it, and lifted the lid. Inside were dozens of small pouches.
He took one and shook it. The sound of clinking coins drew every ear.
“These are gold coins sent by the Theos church as an apology for this matter.”
Logan thought he had misheard.
He was uneducated, but even he knew the Theos church was so powerful that even the Queen of Aerok dared not oppose it. He had cursed Edward before, certain the priest outranked him.
Yet now the church had apologized to a minor lord’s son from a small frontier domain—and paid compensation. It defied reason.
“Logan.”
“Y-yes!”
Startled to hear his name, Logan stepped forward awkwardly.
Edward checked a ledger, then handed him a pouch.
“This is the money you gave to the temple for holy water. Take it back.”
Logan opened the pouch with trembling hands. Inside was a heap of gold coins.
Impossible…
House Griffith had no wealth. The villagers had stopped farming during the drought, so there was no way such money could come from them. It had to be from the church.
Good heavens…
The meaning was clear.
The young lord fought—and won.
Logan now understood who the true master of this land was, and how merciful and just that master could be. Edward had no obligation to return the money. The well belonged to the lord, and the villagers had willingly paid. But he gave it back anyway.
“Thank you, my lord.”
Gratitude and shame welled up inside him.
“To think you still care for us, wretches that we are…”
Tears streamed down Logan’s face as he bowed. To be forgiven was blessing enough, but Edward had even returned the money they had wasted. Logan was overwhelmed by such generosity. He felt ready to give his life for Edward.
“How can we ever repay this grace… Thank you, truly thank you.”
The other villagers felt the same. Those who received pouches of gold wept openly. In their bleak lives, this money was worth its weight in heaven.
“Long live Lord Edward!” Logan shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Long live the young lord!”
“Long live House Griffith!”
The villagers’ voices rose together.
Edward had chosen to execute Thomas through a public trial not only to punish him, but to restore order among the people. He knew their hardships and did not punish them directly, but he needed to set an example.
That should be enough.
The villagers, crying and shouting praises, showed that the plan had worked. The balance of fear and gratitude had bound them to him. They now both loved and feared Edward.
Reverence from the people was an essential trait of a ruler. And now, the villagers had truly become Edward’s people.
One year…
Everything had gone as planned, but a new shadow loomed in Edward’s mind. He had absorbed Thomas’s soul with the Black Soul—and in it, he had glimpsed a sinister memory.
Cliche Novel 