Chapter 706 — Long Time No See

Bard stared fixedly at the man walking toward him. Compared with his memory, today's Viscount Andrew had not grown frail with added years; rather, he looked somewhat more spirited, and there was less of the sickly in his pale complexion—it looked more like a normal skin tone. It seemed his new life had greatly improved this "noble lord's" health.

Andrew Leslie had gone nearly two years without taking any harmful magical potion.

To build and manage a thriving new-model city, to watch his domain transform and grow ever more prosperous under his governance, was a joy greater than he had ever imagined.

"Viscount Andrew," Bard finally broke the silence after several seconds of mutual gazing. "You look to be doing well."

In Andrew's sunken eye sockets something seemed to leap like a flame. He stared fixedly at the man before him, slowly raised his cane, and pressed it against Bard's chest. "You remember what you did in Tamsin Town, don't you?"

"Vividly."

"My daughter still finds it very hard to communicate normally with people even today. Of those who survived your wicked ritual, a third are still unable to return to a normal life," Andrew said, his grip slowly tightening, as if he meant to drive that cane into Bard's body like a sword. "To say nothing of those who did not survive... Have you anything to say?"

Bard stood where he was, neither flinching nor dodging. "Hanging or beheading is fine. I may also be sentenced to burning, as is fitting for a cultist. My only request is that afterward my name not be made public—and if that request is excessive, then pour lead into my skull, provided any skull remains after the burning."

In the customs of the northern and eastern peoples of Typhon, pouring lead into the skull carried a special meaning: it signified that all the sins the deceased had committed in life remained upon the deceased alone—that he could receive no redemption or pardon, and that the sin and infamy would not pass to any kin or family.

A similar notion existed in Ansul (Cecil) as well, though the northern kingdom's practice was to drive a nail through the skull of the dead. Either way, the precondition was that the condemned must request it in person while still alive for it to take effect—an expression of the human race's idea of "soul inheritance" in the realm of life and death.

Viscount Andrew stared into Bard's eyes. "I thought you would offer some defense—stress that you held back at the time, or that you too were deluded by cultist ideology."

"If a man could be cleared of guilt after committing a crime merely by a few words of excuse or one or two seemingly forgivable reasons, then every gallows in the world might as well be torn down," Bard said calmly. "You may sentence me to death, or you may choose to forgive—that is your power. But as for me... I have nothing to say."

The room fell silent for a time. Viscount Andrew stared at Bard for a long while, then suddenly the corner of his mouth twitched, and he slowly set down his cane. "I never thought I would see it—you have humanity now. What is this? A revelation about life?"

"Humanity... I have always had it," Bard said slowly, closing his eyes. "It is only that... for a time I believed that great cause was worth casting aside both my humanity and my bottom line..."

"Any cause that requires casting aside humanity and one's bottom line does not deserve to be called 'great.' It is merely a collective carnival conjured by a pack of madmen in the delusion of self-satisfaction and self-moved sentiment," Viscount Andrew cut Bard off, quoting the sentence Gao You had written in the latest issue of his newspaper when commenting on the cultists. Then he paused, and under Bard's astonished and startled gaze he went on slowly, "But none of that matters now. Your farce ends with your own self-destruction, and you... I will not kill you."

"You will not kill me?" Bard stared at Viscount Andrew in astonishment. "Why?"

"Do not misunderstand. As you said yourself, a man is not so easily washed clean after committing a crime. That I do not kill you does not mean I have forgiven you—only that, compared with death, you can be of greater use."

As he spoke, Viscount Andrew turned his head and looked at Gao Yang, who sat not far away, calmly watching all of this throughout. "Your Majesty, let him go. If he can come back alive, perhaps that will show he is not yet meant to die."

Gao Qi frowned. "Are you certain? We are not without exploration plans at present—you need not be swayed by this matter..."

"He is a priest of the Church of the Final End of All Things, a man who ought to be judged. With so fitting a candidate, why send brave soldiers to form a suicide squad?" Viscount Andrew's expression was firm and earnest. "In the present situation, finding a second living priest of the Final End in a short time will not be easy."

"If this is your wish," Gao Yan said after a brief moment of thought, nodding, "I permit it."

Though he was utterly bewildered by what had happened, Bard still understood that the other man was arranging some task for him to do—a task that might cost him his life, but which could be exchanged for it.

Although he had already prepared himself for execution, if he could avoid dying, naturally he would not refuse.

"What do you want me to do?"

Gao Yang glanced at Bard. "Go to that nest of yours that has already slipped beyond control."