333 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 333 "This is information from Philip's merchant guild. It seems that Bishop Illia didn't just enter her retreat for typical reasons." "…What?" Logan's eyebrows twitched at the unpleasant report he received early in the morning. "We attempted to make contact with her through nearby channels when direct contact failed. We approached the ascetic priests, but none of them had seen her." "Damn it..." With the war against the Empire looming large, Logan had no desire to be entangled in the distant affairs of the Holy Nation, but now he couldn't ignore it any longer. The strange unease that had been swirling in his mind the moment he heard of the Holy Nation's news was now intensifying rapidly. He had assumed she isolated herself for the Pope's political positioning, but if not... "The Pope's statements, Prince Baros's visit to the Holy Nation, and now the disappearance of the Saint?" "It looks like the Empire is up to something," Damian remarked, his tone full of concern. Logan let out a low, contemplative hum. He had been pondering the same thoughts. The Temple had traditionally distanced itself from worldly powers, maintaining a neutral political stance. The Empire, wary of the repercussions of meddling with the Holy Nation, had refrained from making moves against it. 'How on earth did they manage?' Logan sighed repeatedly, but this was no time to keep sighing. He quickly organized his thoughts and spoke aloud. "If Pope Austin's words aren't just about a desire for more worldly involvement but pledge full cooperation with the Empire..." Though he was concerned for Illia, with whom he had maintained a close relationship, Logan’s most pressing issue now was the geopolitical ramifications. "At the very least, it's akin to carrying a bomb within our kingdom in the form of the Macrine Diocese." "Indeed. Even if the clergy are accused of corruption, very few would abandon their faith. If they are determined to sway the people, military morale could be shaken to its core." "Yes, that seems likely. What's the worst-case scenario?" "The worst case would be the participation of the Empire-aligned Holy Knights. While it's unlikely they would treat us as heretics, let alone go that far…" Although Damian declared it improbable, Logan couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The words of Archbishop Pamiel of the Macrine Diocese flitted through his mind: - Children have started being born without divine protection. The Pope suspects this kingdom has been forsaken by God. Stella, the daughter of his mentor and like a niece to him, an adorable child. Every time he thought of her or saw her, those unsettling words echoed in his mind. In this situation, they could not be easily dismissed. "Perhaps it might indeed be the worst-case scenario…" "Pardon?" "No, never mind. First, we need to grasp the situation, and if it's truly the Empire's doing, we should take measures. We can't just stand by." "But Your Majesty, if Philip's merchant in the field cannot accomplish it, what can we from the palace possibly do?" "We should send someone who can find out." "Send someone?" "Someone capable of uncovering whatever the Temple is concealing." While Damian still seemed puzzled, Victore quietly stepped forward, kneeling on one knee. "I will go. Permit me, Your Majesty. I will bring Bishop Illia back safely." "Yes. You indeed seem like the right choice. You're also acquainted with Bishop Illia." Logan nodded with a calm composure, as if it was expected, while Damian chimed in with a worried expression. "The trip to Novience could take up to three months one way. By the time you arrive, everything might already be concluded. Given her status as the Saint, they likely haven't harmed Bishop Illia..." Although Damian's concerns were valid, Logan merely chuckled and shook his head. "Damian, you're good at many things, but you have a tendency to generalize everything." "Sir?" "If it were me, I'd make it there in a week, or rather, even three days." "Sir Victore, you might be unaware, but even riding tirelessly day and night, changing horses, would take over a week." "I can do it." At Victore's bold assertion, Damian looked bewildered, but Logan nodded in agreement. "You of all people could probably manage. Endure the hardship." Victore, having awakened with the gift of 'endless vitality,' was now second to none in stamina. Given this, it seemed entirely feasible. In addition… "Make use of the spectral artifacts obtained recently. Since you've used them before, I trust you can handle it well." Spectral artifacts that gradually lose efficacy without a rightful owner. Even Clayton had yet to analyze their mechanisms. In that sense, the appearance of the specters who attacked Luisa was unexpectedly fortuitous. "Understood." As Logan patted his shoulder of Victore, who answered resolutely, an unresolved voice echoed beside them. "Even if you make it, unearthing the secrets of the Temple doesn't mean physically tearing it apart. Sir Victore, going alone, how will you…" Ignoring Damian's worried tone, Logan focused on the prospect of success due to Victore's abilities, the acquired artifacts, combined with Philip's resources. "If you need additional manpower, request it from Philip. I'm sure he has provisions in place. And..." Logan spoke with calm determination as he met Victore’s concerned gaze unwaveringly. "Ensuring Bishop Illia's safety is crucial, but uncovering the Empire's schemes takes precedence. If possible, thwart them." "…Understood." Perhaps he grasped the weight of those words. Though Victore's face clouded slightly, Logan merely nodded before turning away. And on that very day. The unknown superhuman of Macrine, Victore, disappeared from the capital. * * * * * The rhythmic sound of hooves pounded into the distance. A lone rider galloped across the fields with unimaginable speed, coming to a sudden halt—or rather, a collapse—in front of a merchant caravan's campsite. Thud! Crash! Before the frothy-mouthed horse could fully topple over, the rider, moving like lightning, was already standing before the leader of the caravan adorned with a 'Flame' banner. "It's been a while, Philip." At the casual greeting, a young man with gray eyes, who appeared to be in his early thirties, gave a bewildered smile. "Victore, it's really you. But how did you manage this in just three days...? Were you secretly in the Empire?" "Yes, well. Something like that." Victore simply brushed it off with an awkward smile. His secrets were to remain unspoken, and besides, he hadn't shared a close relationship with Philip since their days in Macrine's territory. Having witnessed his own family being bartered since childhood, Victore had long detested merchants, and Philip exuded the essence of a merchant through and through. "Haha, indeed, you've grown up. You even resemble your lord now. I remember when you were just..." "Philip, I apologize, but could we discuss what I need to do first?" Philip, who had hoped to reminisce with an old acquaintance after many years, could only smirk with a slight sense of disappointment. 'This guy.' He had been a rather dour fellow even as a child, and it seemed he had become even more so with adulthood. Yet, aware of the gravity of the situation, Philip quickly adopted a serious demeanor and led Victore into a tent. In a forest half a day’s journey from the city of Novience lay a small encampment. Inside a tent at its center, a detailed map of the central temple complex, as well as a large geographic map, was spread out. The map illustrated the temple's interior with remarkable accuracy, marking potential locations where the Saint might be held captive and detailing the number of key guards and their shift schedules. Even Victore, as he entered the tent, stopped momentarily in surprise at the level of detail. "…Did you prepare all this within three days?" "Of course not. I started preparing as soon as I suspected the Saint might be imprisoned." "Thank you for your efforts." "Oh, it's nothing. It's necessary. The Holy Nation's recent peculiar behavior has prompted most raw material traders to halt transactions and wait to see what happens. Losses are piling up by the day. My money—or rather, the country's money—is dwindling." "…" "Why are you looking at me like that? Are you impressed?" Unchanged, utterly consistent. Victore shook his head at the unflinching nature of his old acquaintance and asked about the main issue. "No, not at all. But will the Saint be alright?" "'The Saint'? Do you have some connection to her? Well, she is quite beauti—eh, just kidding. Your glare is something else." "…Lady Illia is someone the world cannot afford to lose." This formerly relentless youngster had only grown more relentless. Philip, who had been grumbling loud enough for Victore to hear, now indicated the model of the central temple with a firm expression. "Here. The corrupt old fools living here wouldn't dare harm the Saint, if only out of fear of divine punishment. And she's the first Saint born with the stigmata in 80 years, according to the former Pope. There's no way they'd risk killing her. I'm certain her life is not in danger." "That's good to hear." Philip felt an urge to ask about Victore’s connection to the Saint upon seeing his relieved expression. He had never known this fellow to express emotion concerning anything other than his younger brother. But business was business. Since a positive scenario had been presented, it was equally important to discuss worst-case scenarios—to prepare for them, just in case. "As I mentioned, while her life isn't in danger, no one can guarantee what condition she might be in." A pause. Victore's visible concern prompted Philip to drive the point home. "Historically, cutting off a limb or two of a Saint hasn't brought divine wrath, you know. Nor has turning one into an imbecile. It’s strange how lenient the gods can be." It was Philip’s consideration that if Victore showed an overly emotional reaction to this, he'd remove him from the mission regardless of their lord’s wishes. Keeping a close eye on Victore, Philip listened as he spoke with surprising calmness. "That won't happen." "Pardon?" "Before being a Saint, Lady Illia was instrumental in reforming the Church." "So what?" "Given that the Pope's position isn't unassailable yet, there will be times when Lady Illia's well-regarded status will need to be displayed publicly. Therefore, they can't harm her." A look of realization crossed Philip's features, paired with a chuckle. "…You've become quite sharp, Ice Block." With a brilliant mind bolstered by overwhelming power, it seemed justified to entrust such a crucial mission to him. Setting aside royal orders, Philip, as the field overseer, chose to place his trust in Victore's abilities. And just three days later, at dusk. As the sun was almost set, commotions erupted here and there within the central temple. "Come on, just let me see the Saint! My child is due the day after tomorrow!" "If you've been drinking, just go home, for heaven's sake." "I've got money! I can ask the cardinal for a blessing!" "Such sacrilegious words! Silence!" "Oh, please. Just the other day, you did it for money, and now you talk of sacrilege?" "You again…!" What began with a drunken disturbance at the temple's outskirts soon transformed into a full-blown chaos. "My daughter is dying! We need the Saint's blessing, please let us see her!" "I told you, you cannot!" A desperate plea from a parent seeking a blessing for their sick child. "Ahem. I am a noble from the Empire wishing to meet the Saint." "I'm sorry, but the Saint is currently in meditation…" "Aren't you aware of who I am? Are you ignoring my words?" "That isn’t…" Even foreign nobles suddenly expressing a desire to see the Saint. The sudden tumult enveloped both the inside and outside of the temple, resembling nothing short of a bustling market frenzy. Amidst the chaos, unnoticed by the temple soldiers, several individuals quietly observed the movements of the Holy Knights. As the sun finally set and the clamor around the temple subsided... "We have identified the direction the Holy Knights were looking during the commotion. There's one place that consistently aligns with our theorized locations. It would be prudent to investigate there first." "Okay." From that moment, Victore, cloaked in black attire, began to fade into the shadows.