Hallingen was a village situated exactly halfway between Radensdorf and Breisburg, and being adjacent to a monastery, it had quite a devout atmosphere. It seemed like the kind of village pious believers would love.
Here I met Cavalry Commander Pensler for the first time since the civil war.
"Hahaha! It’s been a while, Wolf!"
"You’re looking well. That said, I’m a baron now, you know?"
"You expect me to bow and mind my manners?"
"I wasn’t holding my breath, Sir Pensler."
Unless he’s in front of the grand duke or my father-in-law, this man is unfailingly rude. My rank now stands far above his, but he doesn’t give it the slightest consideration.
Still, I suppose I’m glad he hasn’t changed.
When a man who never changes suddenly does, it means he’s about to die.
"I heard my retainers imposed on you."
"We’re not exactly strangers. I can spare that much courtesy. Besides, I know full well that doing you a favor always pays off."
"Which is why I prepared this. You won’t be disappointed."
Pensler took the small silk pouch with an unimpressed look.
"What’s in here, silver coins? Well, I’ll be damned! It’s pepper! Outstanding! This is a far better repayment than I expected! My friend, welcome to Hallingen!"
"Suddenly you sound like the lord of Hallingen."
"Hallingen has no lord. The abbot’s influence runs strong in these parts. If I weren’t on friendly terms with that old man, I’d have left for Radensdorf ages ago."
Friendly terms with the abbot? You? The Saxon I know isn’t the type to stay anywhere long, friendship or not, unless there’s a beautiful widow around.
Pensler is a former mercenary who lived free and easy in Saxony, so he absolutely despises being tied down. Which makes it all the funnier that a man like him became commander of the duchy’s finest cavalry.
I have no idea how my father-in-law sweet-talked him into settling down in the duchy. But the two of them both keep their mouths shut about it, so whatever the story is, I’ve never learned it.
Reading my look, Pensler smirked.
"Truth is, the prioress is a stunning beauty."
Of course she is.
A drunk never walks past an open tavern.
A prioress would have to be an older woman, so at least his tastes are consistent. It’s easy to assume a prioress must be an unmarried maiden, but surprisingly, many are widows of noble birth.
That’s because the Lord’s holy ground is, in truth, a prison for members of noble families who have sinned against their houses. Ironically enough, devout believers who come here to do penance are rare.
Pensler threw a modest banquet to welcome us.
"So why are you still stationed in Hallingen? Don’t tell me it really is the prioress."
"I’ve courted several fine widows besides the prioress, but you think that alone would keep me pinned in Hallingen? This is all by order of our great grand duke. That miserable bastard!"
"Sir Pensler, you might want to watch your words. You’re not the only one here."
"Quiet! If it weren’t for that man’s orders, I wouldn’t be stuck rotting in this dull little backwater!"
With drink in him, Pensler bad-mouthed the grand duke. This was nothing new with him. The grand duke has never really punished him despite the open insults. Is that a sign of trust?
Pensler casually did what I could never dream of doing. Drek and Ferke, who were attending the banquet, didn’t know where to look. Pensler’s subordinate commanders were used to it, as if it were a daily occurrence.
"Then why did His Highness assign this place to you?"
"The remnants, most likely. I don’t know the reason, but remnants of the Imperial Knights have been prowling around these parts. The grand duke left us here to hunt them down."
"Remnants? Why would they be here?"
"How should I know? We’re nearly done wiping them out. Once we catch their leader, it’s goodbye to this tiresome backwater. I’ll head back to Breisburg and get my hands on Mühe’s backside!"
Weren’t the beautiful prioress and your fine lovers all here? Pensler had apparently been relieving his stress by bedding widows. Then again, Hallingen was far too quiet a place.
For a man as unruly as Pensler, it must have been terribly dull.
Seducing the prioress was nothing more than a minor diversion.
But remnants of the Imperial Knights, of all things.
They’d scattered to the winds after the Battle of Feuzen.
Could there be something here?
"Ah, Master!"
Pensler got so drunk that the banquet finally broke up.
And on the way back, I ran into Viola.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"To pray to the Lord. Would you like to come along, Master?"
Having nothing better to do, I accepted Viola’s invitation and headed with her to the Hallingen church. With more of our men in town than actual residents, safety was hardly a concern. Ted joined us along the way.
"Master, where are you headed?"
"To pray to the Lord."
At the word "pray," Ted’s face twisted into something strange. Ted is a man far removed from the Church, the type who prefers liquor to prayer. The same goes for me, though I’m far removed from the Church in a different sense.
Viola giggled at the look on Ted’s face.
At that, Ted cleared his throat and said something absurd.
"I’m a devout Christian too, Master. Naturally, I should come along."
"Since when are you a devout Christian?"
"Uh, well. Since today!"
It was a transparent ploy, but Viola didn’t seem to particularly dislike Ted, so in the end I allowed him to tag along. It seemed she saw him as an amusing retainer, nothing more.
Ted was terribly bashful about it.
A man built like a mountain, no less.
The church was old and worn, as you’d expect of a small rural chapel, but reverent. The altarpiece and fresco murals depicted Jesus walking the path of his Passion. Back in Feuzen, Aachen of Brandt was painting an altarpiece too.
What Aachen paints is so extreme that it makes the Passion of Christ look downright peaceful by comparison. Viola prayed quietly. She always prayed for Louis to find rest.
I left the church cloister without disturbing her—dragging Ted out by the ear, mind you, just as he was about to strike up a conversation with her. Listen, pal, by the standards set for Viola’s future husband, you don’t make the cut.
But something felt off.
What was this sense of déjà vu?
It was my first time here, so why did the place feel like somewhere I’d seen before? I examined the church carefully and found nothing special—and then, suddenly, something flashed through my mind.
Could this be the place from the map the Imperial Knight commander left behind?
"Ted, fetch my bag."
"Your bag? Yes, sir."
While a sulking Ted went off to fetch it, I became certain that this was where the commander had hidden his 200 gold coins. So I tried to locate the hidden cache, but...
[The Searcher Scouter cannot be used in this area]
[Please search using the map in your possession]
My men often marveled at my almost supernatural ability to find hidden spaces and objects, but it was entirely thanks to the Searcher Scouter. That absurd game mechanic has earned me plenty of profit.
Without it, I’d be reliving that treasure hunt from my childhood where I wandered around for three hours and found absolutely nothing. The system had imposed a restriction: no relying on the Searcher Scouter. Find it with the map.