CH1378 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1378: Rewards and Punishments

Five days later, a First Army liaison reached Farrina and Joe on the road.

Iron Axe, commander-in-chief of the First Army, had requested to meet them.

They made their way to Cage Mountain and walked into a conference room to find it already occupied. The epaulets on the shoulders around the table marked every person there as a high-ranking officer. Joe swallowed quietly.

Farrina gave a military salute, steady. “First Transport Team, second convoy, Farrina. Reporting as requested.”

Iron Axe and the others smiled and returned the salute. No ceremony, no weight of rank pressing down from across the room.

This surprised her. The Hermes Church had trained her to disregard hierarchy in the conduct of duty, and she had always taken that as a functional habit rather than a gift. She hadn’t expected to find the same quality in Graycastle’s senior officers — and to find it more naturally held.

She had come with a clear conscience, which was why she was calm. That didn’t mean she had forgotten she had once been a “scapegoat” for the Judgment Army. A cold shoulder would not have surprised her. But not a trace of contempt moved across any face in the room. The Church had never been this open to its own people, let alone to outsiders.

“Do you remember the two Everwinter knights you captured at Sedimentation Bay?” Iron Axe came to the point immediately. “We’ve confirmed their identities. And their crimes.”

Farrina felt a faint recognition forming. “Are they important to the First Army?”

“Yes and no.” He considered it briefly. “In terms of the overall war — they’re nothing. But to the people who gave their lives for this war, the fact that criminals do not escape punishment is its own kind of meaning. In that sense, it gives comfort to those who sacrificed themselves.”

Then Iron Axe told her a story that moved in blood.

When the two men were first brought in, the report hadn’t triggered any special attention. Three or four times a day, refugees tried to pass through the barriers under false identities — unimportant nobles, merchants frightened for their assets, people running from crimes or convinced that someone was about to take what they had. The routine was familiar. Based on Lorgar’s initial report, the two Everwinter knights fell into the former category. But the layered smell of blood she had identified on them prompted a more thorough interrogation.

After several sessions, including separate questioning and the methodical application of psychological pressure, the younger brother broke. What came out was this: months earlier, the two men had been assigned by their feudal lord to round up refugees. But the elder brother carried a grudge against Graycastle, and somewhere in the process the mission of capture had become something else entirely — hunting for pleasure.

If it had been a straightforward murder case, the outcome would have been a hanging or a life sentence in the mines. But “hunting refugees” was not straightforward, and the officer who first heard the confession kept it close. The case was escalated to the Intelligence agency, where Hill Fawkes took responsibility for the investigation.

Two blind spots remained. The First Army didn’t know who had sent the original information, only that the deceased had worked for Black Money. And willingness to kill was not enough on its own — even if murder had occurred, the brothers might not have admitted the specific cases that mattered most. Nightingale could verify truth, but she could not manufacture a chain of evidence from questions that didn’t connect.

The only real breakthrough was what Lorgar had smelled.

But Lorgar’s ability had a limit. She could confirm that the blood on the armor was varied in age and origin. She could not establish a precise timeline. Her sense of smell was an extraordinary gift — a mutation’s advantage rather than a measured instrument. Some physiological walls, even the Realm of Magic couldn’t dissolve.

So the Witch Union was called in.

Vanilla and Broken Sword were sent.

With Broken Sword’s augmentation in place, Vanilla found the same pheromones on Talos Murray’s armor and on the surface of the secret letter — a single droplet, but chemically identical. Not transferred by accident. Not explainable by coincidence.

If the two had never intersected, how could the bloodstains carry the same signature?

The Murray brothers were the murderers of the messenger.

“People like that exist, even among ordinary folk…” Joe said, when Iron Axe had finished. The words carried the weight of someone genuinely troubled by this.

“Everwinter is still under demon occupation, so we can’t yet publicize what happened or honor the man who died for it.” Iron Axe’s voice quieted. “But history doesn’t forget people like him.” A pause. “The two of you are the primary contributors to the arrest. You’re not established under the military, so beyond informing you of the investigation’s outcome — to give you closure — I wanted to ask: what reward would you want?”

“We didn’t do much.” Farrina answered without hesitation. “The witch was the one who first noticed something wrong. I only heard the commotion and arrived at the end.”

Good-natured laughter moved around the table.

“Don’t worry — His Majesty Roland doesn’t miss contributors.” Iron Axe smiled. “The Witch Union and the Army are separate departments, so Lorgar’s reward is handled elsewhere. In principle, yours should go through the Administrative Office. But since frontier matters are handled locally, we’re here for the inquiry.”

“I understand.” Farrina paused for a moment, as though testing whether the next words were the right ones. “I was part of the Church’s Judgment Army once. I was deceived by its lies and its shams. If it’s possible — what I want is the chance to make that right.”

“Make it right?”

She took a slow breath. “I want to join the First Army.”

The room went quiet. Eyes moved between each other across the table in silent conference.

Iron Axe spoke after a long moment. “The enlistment criteria for the First Army were drawn up by His Majesty himself. That’s not a decision I can make.”

Farrina’s hands closed. Then they opened.

“But,” Iron Axe continued, his tone shifting, “I can include your contributions and your request in my report to His Majesty. The decision rests with him — provided that you are willing and that your determination is genuine.”

Farrina raised her head. The light that came into her eyes was not gentle.

“Yes. Please do.”

She knew what joining the Army meant: restricted movement, amplified danger, the enemy always close. That was precisely the road she was reaching for. The more difficult the path, the more it felt like the weight she carried could be set down, piece by piece, by walking it.


After the others filed out, Iron Axe and Edith remained.

The Pearl of the Northern Region had been quiet through the entire meeting. Now she sighed. “This is why I have to say — the Hermes Church was truly formidable in its own way. No judgment was ever formally passed against her. What crimes does she actually carry? Only a soul shaped by the Holy City’s piety could choose inherited suffering as a means of finding peace.”

Iron Axe shrugged. Edith’s shrewdness was not something he felt any need to dispute. Her concessions were always strategic, her generosity always an investment. Farrina’s selflessness was beyond Edith’s natural range, and both of them knew it. That didn’t diminish either woman.

Compared to the slow-witted, the vain, and the short-sighted profiteers he had dealt with over the years, Edith at least understood her own goals and did not make small mistakes in pursuit of large ones. He had no dislike for her.

“The two convicts,” Iron Axe said, bringing himself back to the matter at hand. Roland’s message had been explicit: if the crimes of the Everwinter knights are confirmed, the decision is yours. A hundred lives on their hands, by a conservative count. Standard procedure pointed one way.

“If hanging was the obvious answer, His Majesty wouldn’t have made a point of delegating it.” Edith’s expression carried something that was not quite amusement. “And simply sending them on their way would be letting them off rather easily, wouldn’t it?”

“What would you suggest?”

“Since we can’t make this public yet —” Edith smiled slowly — “why not send them as a gift to Black Money? They’ve invested considerably in this case. I imagine they’d be quite… hospitable to the two of them.”

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