High-grade Beastmen looked almost indistinguishable from humans, though they still retained a few bestial features — a tail, a pair of ears, or the faint trace of fur.
Because of this, it wasn't unheard of for a Beastman and a human to… fall for each other.
Normally, such unions bore no fruit. The two races were separated by nature — no matter what they did, no life would be born between them.
But through a forbidden ritual, it was possible — rarely — for them to conceive a child.
Those children were known among humans as Half-Blood Beastmen.
It had all begun with a lovestruck human mage, who had crafted the ritual in order to continue his bloodline with the Beastwoman he loved.
But later, somehow, the Beastmen learned of it — and began producing half-blood offspring in large numbers.
When their bloodline lay dormant, these hybrids looked entirely human.
But they still possessed the innate Beastman gift — the ability to communicate with animals.
Only when their blood was awakened by certain stimuli would their true features begin to show.
Because of that, many Half-Blood Beastmen were secretly sent into the three human empires to act as spies.
And right now — in Mandrake Duchy, which had just suffered through a Beastman invasion — harboring a Beastman spy was a far graver sin than hiding a necromancer.
"Take her away."
At Orad's command, two knights stepped past him, walking toward Vivian.
Among those present, the ones most conflicted were the priests of Heim's church.
Under Father Gerhard's leadership, life had been miserable for them.
As a transcendent, he had always looked down on ordinary clergy like them.
Vivian was different.
She was kind to everyone, always gentle and considerate — even caring about the little details of their daily lives.
If Gerhard was a greedy tyrant squeezing them dry, then Vivian was like an angel sent by the Lord of Light Himself.
And so, one elderly nun stepped forward.
She didn't even know why her feet moved, but somehow she found herself kneeling before Orad, her frail voice trembling.
"Please, my lord Bishop… have mercy. Little Vivian is a good child. She could never be a Beastman spy. There must be some mistake!"
"Mistake?"
A flash of cold light passed through Orad's eyes — but he quickly forced it down.
He didn't want to alienate them. What he needed was for these people to turn against Vivian, not die in her defense.
So he answered with a falsely patient tone:
"The evidence is conclusive. Every Beastman within imperial borders must either live as a slave or die.
Sister Vivian concealed her Beastman blood and infiltrated the Church for years. According to canon law, she should be burned at the stake."
He paused, as if granting a great favor.
"But since I've only just assumed my position as Bishop, I'll show mercy. Her punishment will instead be crucifixion."
He made it sound magnanimous, though he had never intended to burn her in the first place. He still needed her corpse — to drag Hel into the same pit of guilt.
"Enough. Take her."
As the knights moved again, a few more nuns stepped forward.
"Please, Lord Bishop," one pleaded softly, "allow Sister Vivian some last dignity."
Orad followed their gaze to Vivian's torn clothing and understood.
And as a churchman, he could afford to appear merciful.
"Very well," he said. "Do not keep me waiting."
He turned and left with his knights, leaving only the nuns inside.
"Little Vivian…"
The elderly nun who had spoken first gently brushed Vivian's hair. She wanted to say something comforting, but no words came.
"I'm sorry, Mother Siena," Viviane whispered, her eyes downcast. "I've disappointed you all."
Her body was weak — the poison she had been forced to drink left her drained of all strength.
If she could still move, she would have escaped before dawn rather than let anyone see her like this.
"Miss Vivian," one nun said hesitantly, "we could help you escape later."
"That's right," another added quickly. "We believe you. You could never be one of them!"
"I…"
Vivian raised her head, stunned. The faces around her were filled with compassion and faith.
A tear slipped silently down her cheek.
"…I'm sorry," she said softly. "I can't drag you into this."
She shook her head and fell silent, allowing the sisters to change her into clean robes and tidy her hair.
Perhaps dying like this — as a supposed Beastman spy — wasn't such a terrible thing.
At least no one else would be hurt.
When they were done, and despite their protests, Vivian insisted on walking to the execution site herself.
Even there, the nuns tried to ease her suffering.
They used soft cotton ropes instead of iron nails to bind her to the cross.
They tied another rope around her waist, to keep her from hanging painfully by her arms.
Orad stood by, watching all this in silence.
It suited him perfectly.
Unlike male clergy, female members of the Church were all part of the Saintess Faction, and what these nuns were doing — showing sympathy for a heretic — gave him the perfect excuse to move against them later.
"Enough."
Clearing his throat, Orad turned toward the growing crowd below the scaffold.
"My name is Orad MacIntyre," he announced in a loud, solemn voice. "I am the newly appointed Bishop of the Mandrake Duchy.
Today, I have gathered you here to witness the trial of a Beastman spy who has infiltrated our Church for years!"
"A Beastman spy?!"
The crowd erupted.
Just as Orad had expected, the people of Heim still bore deep hatred for the Beastmen who had ravaged their homes.
Many had lost families, houses, entire villages — and feared the Beastmen might return when spring came.
At the mere mention of a spy, fury filled the air.
Shouts rose from every direction — curses, screams, demands for execution.
But when the cross holding Vivian was slowly lifted for all to see, the noise died instantly.
No one could speak.
No one wanted to believe what they saw.
The gentle nun who had fed them, sheltered them, prayed for them — could she truly be a Beastman spy?
And yet… the two drooping, dark-brown wings hanging weakly behind her told a truth that no one could deny.
Moments ago, the crowd had roared with righteous anger.
Now, an unbearable silence fell over the square.