Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [24]
For it echoed the words spoken by the Son of God, Jesus, during the Last Supper—the phrase that every Christian nation, everyone who followed the teachings of Christ, knew well. It was as significant to them as the allegory of a kangaroo country's "boy with a lamb" was to others.
There were only seven or eight people present at this secret meeting. Some looked stunned, others indifferent, a few amused, and one in particular was avoiding Powell's gaze.
The stunned ones clearly had no clue what was going on, the indifferent ones had accepted their fate long ago, the amused ones were likely already aligned with the betrayer, and the guilty one... was the informant.
And then there was the savage Hengist, full of malice, and the eager Horsa...
Less than ten people, yet they painted a vivid picture of humanity in all its shades.
"Nimede, you did well."
Hengist directly named the traitor, offering a rare smile of approval. "You made the right choice, coming back to the Anglo-Saxon family, away from those poor fools brainwashed by the Celts."
He barely gave the betrayer a second thought, casually acknowledging Nimede's betrayal before turning to his brother. "Horsa, tell me—what should we do with this old traitor who's turned his back on our people?"
Before Horsa could respond, Nimede interjected. "Chief, you can't just let Powell off easily. He was the first disciple of Kaelar's teachings and did more than anyone to spread those poisonous ideas."
He held up a tattered, handwritten manuscript. "This is his false gospel—The Gospel of Kaelar. He intended to undermine the very foundation of 'our' Anglo-Saxon heritage!"
Horsa's brow furrowed in irritation, ready to put this presumptuous betrayer in his place, but Hengist stopped him, intrigued. "Go on, boy," he said, his tone encouraging.
Nimede's eyes lit up as he suggested a crueler punishment than Horsa could have imagined. "You should gather all the notable leaders. In front of them, skin Powell alive and hang his hide from the mast. Then, throw him into the sea."
God-Blooded men like Powell were resilient—half-heroic figures. Even skinned, he wouldn't die immediately. And when cast into the saltwater, the agony would be unimaginable.
Seeing Nimede's cold calculation, Horsa gave him a grudging nod of approval. "Well, you're a nasty little bastard, aren't you? Let's do it your way."
Horsa could only see a crueler death. Hengist, on the other hand, saw a deeper strategy.
The Anglo-Saxon ranks were far from stable. Those dissenting voices had been suppressed through sheer force, but Nimede's plan could instill real fear among the wavering minor lords.
Hengist's face broke into a satisfied grin. "You've got potential, boy."
Then, Nimede dropped to his knees and pleaded, "Dear Father—I've heard you have no sons. Let me be the one to look after you in your old age."
Hengist had a daughter, Rowena, but no male heirs. Seeing this tall, cunning youth—brimming with both physical prowess and shrewdness—prostrate before him stirred an unexpected fondness. Nimede had once been ensnared by Kaelar's ideas, but what youth hadn't made mistakes?
A wayward child, now returned to the right path, was still redeemable. Hengist lifted Nimede from the ground. "From this day, you are my adopted son. And after Powell's execution, we will make it official."
Nimede was overjoyed, bowing repeatedly in thanks. "Father, let me carry out the execution instead of Uncle Horsa."
Seeing Nimede's fawning demeanor, Powell could only spit insults, his eyes full of scorn. The others around them looked on with nothing but contempt.
"Hengist! Horsa!"
With a face twisted in rage, Powell stared at the two leaders of the Anglo-Saxons with burning hatred. "Do your worst! Kaelar will avenge me! The paradise of the Great Utopian World he envisions—the Eden for all people—will come!"
"Such foolishness! You've fallen for a devil's lies, no longer honoring the true God," Hengist said with a pitying look. "All-knowing and almighty Jehovah, forgive this soul ensnared by evil."
Gathering every captain and lord under his sway—those who were loyal and those who secretly opposed him—Hengist summoned them all to witness the coming execution. Even those who feared it would be a trap dared not refuse his command.
They were visibly on guard as they boarded, wary of an ambush of three hundred hidden axemen.
But Hengist wasn't a fool. Mass slaughter wasn't his style; there were subtler ways to strike terror into people's hearts, and a massacre would only sow chaos.
When the time came for the execution, Horsa left Powell's tongue intact, perhaps hoping to hear pleas for mercy. Yet Powell only gazed at Horsa and Nimede with cold, unfeeling brown eyes—as if he were already staring at two corpses.
Even after his skin was peeled away and he was cast into the sea, Powell never screamed or begged.
Only in his final moments did he shout for all the Anglo-Saxons to hear: "The Great Utopian World in The Gospel of Kaelar, the Eden for all people—it exists!"
His voice carried far over the waves, strong and clear.
By betraying his former comrades, Nimede had earned the undying hatred of every Anglo-Saxon who had secretly embraced Kaelar's teachings. But Hengist was pleased, entrusting Nimede with the task of disposing of Powell's belongings and rooting out any remaining heretics.
Even if Horsa himself were to switch sides, Hengist was sure that Nimede would never return to Kaelar's fold.
Emboldened by his newfound status, Nimede quickly began to crush any dissent. Using various methods, he expanded his influence under the guise of Hengist's authority. Far from restraining him, Hengist held a public baptism for Nimede, symbolically adopting him as his son.
Now that he was recognized as the Anglo-Saxon chieftain's heir, no one dared challenge Nimede openly. With Hengist's blessing, he took ruthless measures against any who stood in his way.
His efficiency in purging heretics—having once been one himself—was remarkable, and his methods brought a smile to Hengist's face. More and more power was entrusted to him, including the authority to form his own enforcement squad.
Days later, Nimede had recruited over three thousand determined sailors. That was when he received new orders from Hengist:
"Tonight, we'll reach Kent. Rest well—we'll obliterate Maple Ridge tomorrow!"