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Chapter 141



* * *

The Pope’s coffin had finally arrived in the capital. In front of the chapel where it was laid to rest, mourners were already lined up, eager to pay their last respects on his final journey. However, the honor of the first homage fell to the Emperor and Empress. The two quietly entered the chapel through the back door and prayed before the Pope’s coffin.

Despite being heavily pregnant, the Empress had made the effort to be present, understanding the significance of this duty. 

“Are you alright?” Kirke asked cautiously as they stepped back from the coffin, checking on the Empress’s condition.

The Empress, following Kirke’s lead, smiled softly. Her chief lady-in-waiting, who always remained by her side, stood just behind her. Kirke subtly glanced at the chief lady-in-waiting, and when their eyes met, she respectfully lowered her head.

Since her difficult conception, the Empress had taken the chief lady-in-waiting with her wherever she went. It wasn’t unusual for a pregnant woman to keep trusted attendants close and to move cautiously. However, Kirke couldn’t shake a distinct sense of unease.

When they were newlyweds, the Empress had been almost overly independent. She often joked about how growing up in a rural estate had ingrained in her the habit of doing everything herself. That image of her remained vivid in Kirke’s memory. But at some point, she began to accept the attendants’ care as a matter of course, gradually reducing the things she did on her own.

For someone in her position, this could be seen as normal, perhaps even a sign of adapting to the conveniences of her elevated status. But Kirke prided himself on his ability to judge people, and he didn’t believe the Empress was the type to change so easily.

Kirke kept his doubts to himself. With the chief lady-in-waiting constantly at the Empress’s side, it was wise to tread carefully for the sake of his wife’s safety.

“They say Cardinal Bael will lead the final pilgrimage,” the Empress remarked, her gaze fixed on Bael as he stood vigil by the coffin.

Kirke pulled himself out of his thoughts and nodded slightly. “Yes, he was the Pope’s most trusted cardinal and is also the strongest candidate to succeed him.”

“As the next Pope… I hear things are not going smoothly,” the Empress said, gently stroking Kirke’s arm with concern. “There are rumors among the faithful about a ‘Saint of the Countryside.’ They say he’s the real deal, unlike the Saintess who lives in luxury with the noble families. It seems they might even put him forward as a new papal candidate.”

Bael and Kirke had once been comrades, having together subdued the Mad Dragon. Everyone knew of their close bond, so the Empress’s concern was understandable. But it wasn’t just personal ties that made the situation within the Church worrisome.

The Imperial family had always paid close attention to the power dynamics within the Church. With nearly all the citizens of the Empire being devout followers, having a Pope sympathetic to the Empire could bring considerable benefits. If Bael became Pope, he could rally the people’s support through the power of faith.

“Even if Bael safely becomes Pope, I have no intention of exploiting his power that way,” Kirke thought. But even having a non-hostile Pope would be a significant advantage.

“And then there’s this Saint of the Countryside…”

The very notion of his existence was suspicious.

The timing of the Saint’s emergence, as well as the fact that the group promoting him hailed from the remote Regennetasia, was enough to raise suspicions. Kirke exchanged a subtle glance with Bael. With the line of mourners still long, they wouldn’t be able to discuss matters in depth right away, but perhaps they could speak more privately once the other priests took over.

At that moment, new mourners entered through the same back door that the Emperor and Empress had used. 

“Bael.”

The familiar voice prompted Kirke to turn his head. Dressed in black, Reshia and Axel approached Bael, their faces solemn. It was only natural for Reshia, as a Saintess, to offer her condolences for the Pope. However, Kirke noticed that the Empress beside him had suddenly grown cold. Her face still bore a smile, but an unmistakable chill had settled over her demeanor.

As if on cue, the chief lady-in-waiting approached the Empress.

“Your Majesty, you don’t look well. Perhaps it would be wise to rest for a while inside,” she suggested.

“Do you think I should?” the Empress asked, looking to Kirke for permission.

There was no reason or justification to refuse. Kirke nodded with a gentle smile. “Of course. If you’re feeling too unwell, you can return to the palace.”

“How could I? This is the final pilgrimage of the Pope, who is revered by all our people. I must stay for the entire day.”

“Ensuring the safety of the life growing inside you is more important than observing formalities. I’m sure the late Pope would understand,” Kirke reassured her.

Just as the Empress was about to respond with a bright smile, the chief lady-in-waiting abruptly interjected, “Please, Your Majesty, let’s go now. You really don’t look well.”

Though the interruption was rude, it was difficult for Kirke to criticize since the Empress’s pallor was indeed concerning. Once the Empress had departed with her lady-in-waiting, Axel sidled up to Kirke.

“The atmosphere feels strange. She didn’t seem like that before.”

“For you, a complete outsider, to notice something off, imagine how I feel living with her,” Kirke replied with a sigh, and Axel echoed it with one of his own.

“Planting a spy so close to the Empress, in the very heart of the palace… The former emperor truly isn’t an ordinary man.”

“Speaking of which, I received word yesterday. The former emperor has arrived at his villa, accompanied by none other than the ‘Saint of the Countryside’ who has been caring for him since his time in the provinces.”

Axel’s eyes gleamed at the mention of the fabled Saint. “So, the story is that the former emperor, who was at death’s door, was miraculously healed by this ‘Saint of the Countryside’?”

“Seems that way.”

“Well… it’s quite the tale. People are bound to love it.”

Kirke nodded slightly, acknowledging Axel’s assessment with a smile before turning his gaze to Reshia. “It seems they’re propping up the ‘Saint of the Countryside’ while simultaneously spreading bad rumors about Reshia. It’s a well-coordinated strategy.”

“It’s a foolish move, turning the entire Elpinard family and the Church against them,” Axel commented coldly. Kirke narrowed his eyes, a thoughtful murmur escaping his lips.

“I get the feeling that those rumors were specifically crafted to provoke you, Archmage Axel Elpinard.”

“They targeted my sister. Of course, I’m provoked.”

“Sister, is it? Is that how you’ve decided to define your relationship?” Kirke tilted his head, his question laced with intrigue. Axel frowned, clearly frustrated by the line of questioning.

“What do you mean?” Axel asked, his confusion evident.

“What do you think? You used to like Greslin, didn’t you? Even though she’s become a child now, deep down she’s still the same person. That must be pretty complicated for you,” Kirke remarked, a knowing tone in his voice.

Axel’s mouth fell open in surprise. “What are you talking about? Like someone? We were rivals, constantly fighting every day.”

“We’ve been friends a long time, Axel. I know you better than anyone. If you truly hated someone, you’d just ignore them completely. The fact that you kept fighting with her—that was because you cared,” Kirke replied with a smirk.

“Rubbish,” Axel scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. The idea of liking someone he fought with so often seemed absurd to him, and his demeanor clearly showed that he genuinely believed that.

Kirke, taken aback by Axel’s apparent obliviousness, shook his head in disbelief. “And here I thought I was the only one who was clueless about these things. Looks like we’re both a piece of work. I guess there’s truth in that old saying about birds of a feather flocking together.”

He patted Axel on the shoulder with a chuckle. “Fine, if you’re that oblivious, it might be better if it stays that way. Just don’t come crying to me when Reshia gets a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend, really…” Axel trailed off, his expression tightening as he glanced over at Reshia, who was deep in conversation with Bael. ‘She’s still so young. There’s no need to be talking about boyfriends yet,’ he thought to himself, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation.

Now that he looked at her again, he noticed how much she had grown. When she was just a little girl making outlandish proclamations about becoming a dolphin, the idea of Greslin’s soul residing within her had seemed laughable. But now, seeing her maturing into an adult, he couldn’t help but feel a strange emotion stirring within him.

‘Not that I like her or anything,’ he reassured himself, his hand instinctively moving to his chest as if to calm the inexplicable feelings bubbling up. Kirke observed Axel’s subtle discomfort and quietly clicked his tongue in amusement.

* * *

“Bael, are you alright?”

After offering a brief prayer before the Pope’s coffin, I immediately inquired about Bael’s well-being. He was always a pale figure, but with the passing of the Pope, whom he had revered like a parent, he seemed even more drained.

Bael, with a frail smile, clasped both my hands in his. “I’m grateful that His Holiness gave me plenty of time to prepare my heart. I was expecting this.”

“I suppose that’s a relief, but…”

“And I still have the late Pope’s final wishes to guide me,” Bael added.

“You mean the part where he asked you to succeed him as Pope?”

“That, yes, but also…” Bael glanced cautiously at the priest standing a short distance away before leaning in to whisper. “He also mentioned the prophecy book that Reshia entrusted to me before he passed.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes. The Pope told me there’s something in that prophecy about the ‘Saint of the Countryside’—the one causing such a stir in the Empire recently. Does Reshia know about it?”


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