Chapter 91

Chapter 91
Two days later.

With merely two days remaining until the Chief Cardinal’s scheduled appearance at the temple’s fortnightly prayer gathering, Alon was having a meal at a nearby restaurant. He addressed his companion.

“Evan.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You normally seize any opportunity to roam about, yet you haven’t done so this time.”

Evan gave a slight shrug in response to the observation.

“I did go out, in fact.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. However, there was little of interest to occupy my time. The area beyond the temple grounds appears no different from other regions. Nothing seems to distinguish it.”

Alon nodded, considering this.

‘The Holy Kingdom is somewhat like that, I suppose.’

The capital presents a magnificent sight when viewed from outside its walls. Even without seeing the outer districts, the uniform white structures within the castle walls make it evident to all that this is the Holy Kingdom of Rosario. Yet, beyond this architectural signature, there is little amusement to be found for anyone not deeply devoted to Sironia.

“Evan.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“This may seem strange, but is there something behind me?”

“Behind you, my lord?”

“Correct.”

Evan looked confused before answering.

“I don’t understand what you are referring to.”

“You don’t?”

“No, but you asked me the same thing yesterday. Is something the matter?”

Evan regarded him with a perplexed expression.

Ever since leaving the Sanctuary, the responses from the goddess and Heinkel had been oddly alike. Remembering he had indeed posed the same question to Evan the day before, Alon gave a faint shake of his head.

“It is of no consequence.”

“If you say so… though, there is someone behind you now.”

“? What are you talking about?”

“The Saint.”

“The Saint…?”

As Alon turned at these words, he found Saint Yuman standing there, gazing at him with a deeply serious expression.

“?”

The moment their eyes connected, Yuman swiftly looked away. The motion was distinctly clumsy.

‘…What is his problem?’

Naturally, he had a theory about why Yuman might behave this way. Alon, not being a priest of Rosario, had accessed the Saint’s private chamber through Yutia—a place he had no official right to enter. Still, the source of his present curiosity was Yuman’s decidedly odd conduct.

“My lord, did some incident occur involving the Saint?”

“We have only encountered each other once, nothing more.”

“Then why does he appear to be tracking your movements so persistently? It has been going on for nearly two days now, hasn’t it?”

Alon’s expression turned peculiar at Evan’s comment. It was true; Yuman’s strange actions were exactly what had drawn his notice.

After Alon had entered and departed the Saint’s room two evenings ago, Yuman, who should have had no cause to pursue him, had been openly following him for two full days. He merely shadowed him, never initiating conversation.

‘Could he have discovered that I took the Eye Eater’s Pendant from the room? That seems impossible—it was not enchanted for tracking, and it was concealed effectively…’

As Alon contemplated other explanations, all of a sudden—

Thud!

Yuman, who had been sitting until a moment ago, appeared to reach a decision. He rose and approached, stopping directly in front of Alon.

“Might I speak with you alone?”

“Alone?”

After a puzzled Alon nodded, Yuman cast a discreet look around and then spoke in a hushed tone.

“You would be prudent to exercise caution around Cardinal Yutia, Count Palatio.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

“She is not a devotee in the same manner as we are.”

“…?”

Yuman delivered this line with the utmost gravity, which only served to confuse Alon further. Wearing a look of deep resolve and steely determination, Yuman then said, “I shall take my leave now.” He offered a slight bow and turned to depart.

Observing his retreat, an equally baffled Evan asked, “What was the meaning of that, my lord?”

“I truly do not know,” Alon responded, just as mystified.

Meanwhile, as Alon was wrestling with the puzzle of Yuman’s abrupt change in demeanor, over at the Blue Tower…

“No! I explicitly said NO, you fools!!!”

A sudden, furious shout pierced the air.

“Get out! Every single one of you!”

“At once, ma’am!”

Terrified by her ferocious outburst, the wizards hastily scrambled from the room. Watching them flee, she released a heavy sigh, pressing her fingers to her temples as if warding off a migraine.

‘How did I get entangled in this absurd predicament…?’

Penia released another lengthy sigh, her hands clutching her head. It was little wonder—a persistent and ridiculous rumor had become a relentless source of stress for her lately.

The gossip making the rounds was that Penia Crysinne was enamored with Count Palatio—a claim as unfounded as it was irritating, and it was pushing her to her limits.

Just that morning, one of her assistants—a mage who had been secluded in the Tower for over ten months, completely absorbed in his work—had shown up with a cake inscribed with the words, “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, Vice Tower Master!”

*Sigh*

From Penia’s point of view, she could just about endure these kinds of pranks, perhaps even force a laugh, no matter how frequently they happened. However, the cause of her intense reaction was the fundamental nature of these mages.

Wizards commonly spend many months, or even years, shut away in their laboratories, engrossed in study, which means they frequently miss the latest news. The result is that nearly every day, a different person arrives to offer congratulations on her supposed “engagement.” And it goes beyond just well-wishing. They presume, “Since it’s a joyous occasion, it’s acceptable to be a bit impertinent today, right?” which leads to comments such as, “Perhaps you should try to be less harsh,” or “If you lose your temper, the Count will likely flee as well.” It was infuriating Penia to no end.

“Why in the world should I be associated with that—!!” she started to yell, but stopped mid-sentence, instinctively looking toward the Tower’s window. Although the height was utterly insurmountable for any normal person, after witnessing the spectacle Radan had performed at Raksas Castle, she had begun cautiously checking every window she passed.

*Click—*

She opened the window, scrutinized the area in every direction, and confirmed no one was there before slumping back into her chair, her face etched with exhaustion.

But the recent irritations were not the only troubles plaguing Penia. While not typically this severe, she had lately been experiencing a strange streak of misfortune. For example, out of all the magical items commissioned from merchants, only hers would somehow “go missing.” Or, among the shipments of magical components arriving from outside, only her materials would be “misplaced.” She had endured five such consecutive incidents.

“Why has my luck turned so sour recently?” Penia mumbled feebly, on the verge of tears. She was about to curse, “This is all that—” but she caught herself, shooting another glance back at the window.

Despite her despondent mood, the sky outside was brilliantly clear.

####

In the office reserved for the Saint inside Rosario’s inner temple…

*Sigh.*

Yuman, having just spoken with Alon, recalled the Count of Palatio’s aloof and impassive demeanor.

‘Count Palatio is undoubtedly a Saint.’

Naturally, Count Palatio had not been formally inaugurated as a Saint. He had received his holy relic not through a public rite, but in a private, unofficial capacity. Nevertheless, even if unofficial, his status as a Saint was evident.

A Saint is an individual acknowledged by the goddess Sironia herself through the bestowal of a holy relic. In fact, when Yuman had prayed for direction, the goddess Sironia had personally granted a relic to the Count, confirming his sainthood beyond question.

The sole point of confusion for Yuman was why the goddess had chosen to appoint him as a Saint in such a clandestine manner, forgoing a public ceremony. However, even that enigma had started to become clearer.

Yuman carefully looked down at the book he held. This ancient volume, handed down exclusively through the lineage of Saints, contained the following passage.

[Even with the great nation founded by the goddess, it is not possible to save everyone, for evil conceals itself deep in the shadows, fearing the dawn of the goddess.]

[To confront those whom even the goddess’s nation cannot rescue and to eradicate the evil that lurks before the goddess’s dawn, the goddess has ordained the Silver Saint.]

[The Silver Saint, who wields the blade of dawn, shall deliver those beyond the reach of light from the shadows and destroy the evil rooted in darkness.]

[In the unheralded dawn, they are the ones who propagate the grace of the goddess.]

“Silver Saint…”

Yuman whispered the term “Silver Saint” from the ancient text, his thoughts turning to Count Palatio. If he was truly designated as the Silver Saint, it would explain why he received the relic from the goddess without a formal ceremony.

Therefore…

‘If Count Palatio is the Silver Saint, he must be protected from Cardinal Yutia.’

A nascent sense of responsibility began to grow within Yuman’s heart. He did not fully comprehend why the goddess Sironia had selected Count Palatio to be the Silver Saint, but he knew his duty was not to question, but to accept. It would be imprudent to challenge the goddess’s decision, and he recognized that Count Palatio should not be associated with Cardinal Yutia.

To Yuman, she was a person who, instead of venerating the goddess, sought to harness her power for her own ends—no better than the depraved.

And so…

‘I must assist the Silver Saint in following the correct path. I must…!’

His eyes filled with resolve, he shut the ancient tome. A complex and unusual chain of events had been set into motion.

####

Two days later, the day of Alon’s investiture ceremony finally arrived.

Alon made his way swiftly to the temple for the early morning ceremony, but soon his expression became one of bewilderment. An unusually large contingent of Paladins was accompanying him on his route to the temple. This, in itself, was not strange, as the ones with black shoulder pads on their armor were the Paladins directly serving the Cardinal—presently, they were escorting Yutia, who walked next to Alon.

However, Alon’s attention was caught by the Paladins marching on his left. Clad in white armor adorned with blue epaulets, they were not under the Cardinal’s command but were the personal Paladins of Saint Yuman, following him as matter-of-factly as Yutia’s own guard.

Alon shot a questioning look toward Yuman, then turned his gaze to Yutia. But—

“…??”

Yutia also appeared utterly perplexed, her expression silently inquiring, “What is he doing?”

‘What is going on?’

Alon found himself more confused than ever, with no apparent answers forthcoming.