The Story of Vampire Michaela by Kagami Takaya~

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Virtuous People, Scoundrels, and...

                                                                                                         ~Back to the Middle Age~

Europe of the 13th century was a world where death was a lot closer to every human than it is now. When someone died, profound grief a death is accompanied with nowadays could hardly be expected.

But still, on that day, everybody cried, because someone they all loved, the man, essential to the Templar Knights, who was to shoulder the future of the Order, died.

Gilbert Chartres died.

And not just died, but was murdered in the Templar Knights' HQ in a highly bizarre way, and the news struck fear and sorrow in the hearts of the town residents.

"..."

Crowley was in his house, rocking in the loudly complaining chair and waiting, as time ticked away.

He didn't attend the funeral service. The fact must have caused tremendous indignation among those who did. Everybody adored Gilbert, after all, so it was only to be expected. Gilbert was a flawless man. A man who kept believing in God no matter what despair he laid his eyes upon.

It was men like him that were loved by God, Crowley thought. No, should have been loved by God.

Except in the end, Gilbert was killed. God didn't see what kind of man Gilbert was, didn't watch him.

Crowley gently touched the cross on his chest, hanging from his neck, and whispered barely audibly, "...If You don't love Gilbert, then who do you love?"

Just then a knock on the door came.

Today, the aristocrat named Ferid Bathory was supposed to visit. He appeared to hold clues that could lead them to Gilbert's murderer. Except he promised to come before noon.

"It's almost evening already," Crowley remarked with a wry smile.

The place of their destination lay a whole day and night away by carriage, so they were supposed to depart as early as possible.

"You're late, Ferid-kun. With you being that late, we probably can't depart today."

With that, Crowley opened the door.

It was raining outside. Heavily so. With the weather being this bad, Gilbert's funerals ran into a lot of trouble, no doubt. God wouldn't even grand the sun on the day of His pious believer's funerals.

"..."

The one standing at his doorstep wasn't Ferid, however. It was a man of large build and with a rich mustache.

Crowley knew him. Roy Rouland was the man's name, and he was Crowley's comrade in arms, a participant of the Crusade and one of the Templars Crowley went through hell together with.

Back at that last battlefield, he was among the group Gilbert led that managed to escape to Damietta. Since then, his position among the Order had been secured as one of the members of Gilbert's faction. But well, that was yet another thing that had passed into nothingness now, with Gilbert's passing away.

Crowley simply looked at his guest, while Roy glared at Crowley, saying in no uncertain terms, "Crowley Eusford. Why are you still here."
"...You're drenched to the skin, Roy."
"Answer me! Why didn't you come to Gilbert's funerals?!" Roy yelled. He looked to be terribly angry.

And Crowley knew how he felt. Why he didn't come to the funerals of his old comrade, huh.

Crowley gave Roy an answer. "I have no right to be there. I've distanced myself from the Knights Temp—"