To say Ernst had few supporters was putting it mildly.
Although he was not shackled, subjected to interrogation, or even restricted in his personal freedom, he experienced a deep isolation that even the most hardened prisoners would find difficult to stomach.
Kjerag was a small, insular nation.
With human settlements densely packed around the lakes and alpine forests, gossip traveled faster than a winter gale.
For an devastating scandal of this magnitude, the speed of dissemination was downright terrifying, multiplying from ten whispers to a hundred overnight.
Before long, Ernst found himself the primary topic of conversation at every dinner table.
The pristine walls of his office bungalow were defaced with crude curses, and stepping outside without a dedicated security detail guaranteed a fierce pelting of Beastbird eggs and wilted vegetables.
Considering Beastbird eggs and fresh greens were highly valuable commodities in Kjerag, typically hoarded as precious winter rations, Ernst actually felt a bit flattered that the populace was willing to waste such expensive groceries on his face.
Despite the hostility, on the crisp, freezing morning before the Holy Stone Judgement was set to begin, Ernst stubbornly insisted on clocking in for work.
He brushed the snow from his shoulders and personally hung his heavy winter coat on the wooden rack.
The simple office should have been empty, silent save for the crackle of the hearth.
Instead, his gaze settled on a figure who had absolutely no business being there.
“Sciurus, good morning.”
She possessed the same long, almond-colored hair as Ratatos, the current head of the Browntail Family, but radiated a fiery, youthful vitality that her gloomy older sister entirely lacked.
As the second-in-command of the Browntail Family and one of Ernst’s oldest childhood sweethearts, Sciurus sat on his leather sofa with her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white.
Her bright, anxious eyes locked onto the young man as he calmly walked toward his desk.
Unable to contain herself, she stomped her leather boot against the floorboards.
“You still have the nerve to say good morning?
Why didn’t you refuse the summons!”
“Refuse what?” Ernst settled into his high-backed armchair, offering the agitated girl a helpless look.
“You came all the way out here to see me.
Does Yukil know about this?
Aren’t you worried about dragging your husband into this mess?”
“He is the one who sent me!” Sciurus snapped irritably, forcefully dragging the conversation back to her primary concern.
“Refuse the Holy Stone Judgement, obviously!
My sister, that black-hearted snake, how could she do this to you!
You should have fiercely rejected her demands, slapped her right across the face, and then punched her in the gut for good measure!”
Ernst felt the corner of his eye twitch, briefly wondering what kind of violent new parlor game the Browntail sisters were playing these days.
He simply shook his head.
“It would be useless.
What happens if I refuse?
Does Yukil possess some magical method to convince the elders, to make them understand that my actions were justified?”
Sciurus choked on her words.
Yukil had certainly not provided her with any such miraculous solution.
But she had always been a fiercely stubborn woman.
Even though she had never once won a debate against Ernst since they were children, she refused to back down now.
you cannot just accept it!
Who in this country doesn’t know what kind of rigged farce the Holy Stone Judgement really is!
How many centuries has it been since Kjeragandr last manifested?
The final verdict is just whatever the Karlan Temple decides it is!”
“Yes.” Ernst nodded calmly.
Sciurus knew the truth, Yukil knew the truth, and Ernst naturally knew it better than anyone.
Kjeragandr’s last recorded manifestation was hundreds of years ago.
If Kjerag had not continued to enjoy the goddess’s passive protection, remaining entirely untouched by the apocalyptic natural disasters that ravaged the rest of Terra, the populace might have already begun to question her very existence.
Yet, the long, deafening silence of the deity had birthed a cascading series of systemic failures within the Karlan Temple, the organization that claimed to serve as her divine representative on earth.
The Grand Elder’s insatiable greed for secular authority was merely a microscopic symptom of the disease.
The rot ran deep, manifesting in the nation’s stagnant financial, cultural, and military policies.
The underlying principle was universally simple: absolute power breeds absolute corruption.
Judicial authority was just one of the many powers the Karlan Temple had usurped, a right that should have logically belonged to a modern Kjerag government.
The stated purpose of the Holy Stone Judgement was to take high-profile suspects—those who were allegedly guilty but possessed too much influence to be quietly executed—and place them before the ancient divine miracle left by Kjeragandr.
There, they would publicly confess their actions and await the goddess’s divine oracle for a final ruling.
On paper, this handed the ultimate power of judgment back to the divine.
In practical execution, there were simply too many variables that could be artificially manipulated.
For instance, forcing the accused to publicly state their alleged crimes before the Holy Stone was a punishment in itself.
Anyone qualified to step foot into the Holy Stone Plaza already held significant social standing.
By forcing them into that humiliating position, even if a divine oracle eventually declared them innocent, their political reputation and public dignity would be irrevocably shattered.
Then came the matter of the oracle itself, a concept steeped in deliberate ambiguity.
Kjeragandr was a deity, not a twenty-four-hour customer service representative.
What if she happened to be asleep or busy during the trial?
Who would deliver the verdict then?
Naturally, the responsibility would fall to the Karlan Temple, the sole entity holding the legal authority to interpret the will of the gods and speak on their behalf.
Even if the Temple refrained from outright forging an oracle, the mere fact that Kjeragandr made no response could be weaponized.
Silence could be interpreted as ‘the goddess is too disgusted to speak’or’the goddess finds this sinner beneath her notice.’ The final interpretation, and the resulting execution, would still rest entirely in the hands of the priests.
The Temple was essentially a state military organ cloaked in the untouchable garb of religion; every action it took was inherently branded as sacred.
During the trial, even the slightest environmental disturbance—like a stray Beastbird landing on the Holy Stone and flying away—could be maliciously interpreted as an omen unfavorable to Ernst.
Since the masses were deeply superstitious and lacked the education to disprove the priests, no one would ever dare question the outcome.
“That is exactly why the first thing I decided to do after securing that capital was to invest heavily in public education.”
Ernst let out a long, quiet sigh.
In truth, the absolute worst-case scenario Ernst had prepared for was being assassinated by furious Kjerag traditionalists the very day his loans and mortgages were made public.
To even survive long enough to face a trial, no matter how rigged the jury, was already a stroke of immense luck.
“You…
No wonder Yukil said that liking Ernst, possessing common sense, and supporting the Holy Stone Judgement were three conditions that could never exist in the same person simultaneously!”
Sciurus turned her head away, her voice trembling with a potent mixture of anger and desperate helplessness.
“Actually, there is another option.
Ernst, come to Turicum tonight.
I can arrange for you to slip out of Kjerag hidden within a merchant caravan.
You can escape to Columbia!”
“I am not going,” Ernst rejected the proposal without a second thought.
“Once I flee to Columbia, I will be branded a traitor forever.
I will never be able to return home.
Do you not understand what that means?”
“But living in exile is better than dying on that altar, isn’t it?” Sciurus pressed, her stubbornness flaring as she leaned forward.
Before she could spiral further into panic, Ernst reached out, his warm hand gently covering her mouth.
The sudden, grounding physical contact silenced her protests, leaving only the quiet crackle of the office hearth between them.
“Why can’t you ever say something positive?” Ernst asked, his tone laced with dry, helpless amusement.
“For example, you could choose to believe that the great Kjeragandr will actually manifest for me.”
“You say that so easily!” Sciurus pulled his hand away, her cheeks slightly flushed but her exasperation winning out.
“Who do you think you are?
Even the Saintess herself hasn’t seen Lord Kjeragandr in years.
Why on earth would the goddess manifest just to save your neck?”
Ernst pouted slightly, leaning back in his chair.
“That is not necessarily true.”
“What isn’t necessarily true?” Sciurus stared at him, genuinely unable to comprehend where this bottomless well of confidence was coming from.
Ernst merely shrugged, offering no concrete explanation.
He smiled, reaching out to give Sciurus a reassuring pat on the head.
“It is all uncertain.”
Whether Enya had truly communed with Kjeragandr, and whether the goddess would actually bother to show up at the plaza, were indeed massive uncertainties.
But at the very least, in Ernst’s private estimation, that particular deity held the glorious, if entirely self-proclaimed, title of ‘the woman who might just end up becoming my mother.’
A clever beast knows how to change its colors before the trap snaps shut.
It was time to initiate his first real sleight of hand.
[Rhodes’s Note:
Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?
(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent!
to use the links!)