Chapter 93
“……What did you just say?”
“Ah. Of course, I am not saying that the level of the Friadel Knights is lacking. I could never phrase it that way.”
Ianpel, fingers interlaced with both hands clasped together, continued in his gentle tone.
“Do you know how skilled the Dark Guild member whom Leshenhart faced was? He was comparable to a high-ranking Sword Expert.”
“A high-ranking one……?”
“Yes. Ah, of course, he was dealt with. Leshenhart has many capable individuals, and our Temple provided assistance as well.”
Ianpel deliberately added that remark with a faint smile.
He did not mention that the Dark Guild member—Gilesha—was still alive.
The only ones who knew he lived were Aquila’s group, Ianpel, several in Portplum, and a few priests and the Pope in Saintroia.
All, in one way or another, were people Ianpel considered reasonably trustworthy.
In any case, Ianpel regarded Orphe’s stunned expression coldly—the man who had assumed that the Dark Guild merely operated from the shadows with cowardly curses and scheming.
“If even an ordinary Dark Guild member possesses that level of ability, I cannot help but question whether Friadel alone would suffice.”
Aquila cast a sideways glance at the Saint.
For a brief moment, he debated whether he should clarify that Gilesha was not merely an ordinary Dark Guild member.
Even within the Dark Guild, Gilesha was among the upper ranks.
Ianpel was unlikely to be ignorant of that fact.
If he still phrased it this way, it was most likely deliberate.
“……It is not as though our knight order lacks those comparable to a high-ranking Sword Expert.”
“Yes, of course. However, there is one correction to be made.”
Ianpel’s mysterious pale-violet eyes quietly fixed upon Orphe.
“We—rather, I—do not intend to wage war against the Dark Guild. We intend to exterminate them. Not with difficulty, but as one presses down a spider in the palm of one’s hand.”
The Saint’s voice was monotone, yet there was something chilling within it that anyone in the room could sense.
A man who saved lives and offered prayers to the gods.
A Saint radiating brilliant golden sunlight and warm divine power, now speaking of crushing others by force—it was almost unbelievable.
Yet those high nobles who had met him at least once, or heard of him through rumor, would vaguely understand.
Ianpel’s temperament was closer to that of a politician or a calculating merchant.
‘He is rarely restrained in revealing himself, but today especially so. Then again, he despises letting emotions ruin matters.’
He was asking why one should choose a difficult path when easier ones existed.
Of course, Ianpel’s reasoning had merit.
It was not entirely deserving of condemnation.
He merely pursued efficiency and despised waste.
The problem was that in Ianpel’s aversion to loss, not only complex human emotions were included—but lives as well.
Sacrifice the small for the greater whole.
If it led to a faster path, he would not hesitate to discard a few lives.
That ruthlessness was something that even Aquila found distasteful.
“Revenge. It has a fine resonance. However, we cannot create variables because of such things.”
“Did you just say ‘such things’? Are you referring to my family’s grief and fury? And this from those who did nothing for us at that time?”
Orphe’s face twisted fiercely.
When his daughter Agnes Friadel had fallen victim to the Venomous Curse, the Temple of the Sun had done nothing.
A priest had been summoned, yet her screams did not cease.
Even when her breath finally stopped, a priest had stood before her.
“That is why we will take responsibility. By capturing them, no matter what.”
Despite Orphe’s accusatory tone, Ianpel remained unmoved.
“However, it is not Friadel’s place to request that others withdraw. It was thanks to Leshenhart that we were able to learn of the Dark Guild’s headquarters.”
Ianpel was not wrong.
When Aquila first visited the Grand Temple of Portplum and met Ianpel, his request had been to capture the Dark Guild.
Yet the reason Ianpel argued so forcefully before Friadel was not solely because of that arrangement with Aquila.
Rexenbert Pad Leshenhart.
He was clearly trying to create circumstances where a Sword Master could step forward.
He had likely already conveyed once that he would go to the Labyrinth City.
Moreover, if Rexenbert stepped forward, the imperial side could be firmly restrained.
‘The Dark Guild would be annihilated in one stroke, and the Temple of the Sun would only need to assist Rexenbert. It is akin to blowing one’s nose without lifting a finger.’
“Rexenbert. Saint, you seem to believe Rexenbert will come.”
Orphe murmured.
His blue eyes shifted from the Saint to Aquila.
“When I asked for aid, no one answered my plea. No one. Not even your father, the one called the God of War.”
“The Venomous Curse……”
“That it cannot be cured? I know. I know. Everyone said the same. That it was an unfortunate accident. Some even told me that perhaps my daughter was fated to die that way.”
For an instant, Orphe’s eyes were bloodshot.
“But you recovered. Completely. When I heard that news, rather than relief, this thought came to me first. Why was that discovered only after my daughter had died? Why did only my daughter have to perish? Did someone know the cure and choose to remain silent?”
“No matter that you are the head of Friadel, those words are—!”
Shen stepped forward, but Aquila raised one arm to stop him.
“……I do not fail to understand Lord Orphe’s feelings. However, I believe your resentment is directed at the wrong target.”
“Ha, ha! Yes, I know that as well. That I am being unreasonable. That it is not something I should say before someone who survived that pain.”
Orphe clutched his face with both hands, muttering in anguish.
“Yet must it be that I cannot even take revenge with my own strength? That Friadel cannot dare strike down those who killed my daughter……!”
His cry was so desperate that one could feel his emotions vividly.
Aquila watched him briefly, then glanced at Ianpel.
The Saint was expressionless.
He did not appear to understand Orphe Pad Friadel.
The corners of his lips had lowered, and his gaze held neither sympathy nor pity—only mild annoyance.
Rather, it was Yuzelia—who had likely heard such words countless times at close range—who clasped her hands tightly.
Though both were priests of the same Temple of the Sun, their expressions were entirely different.
Aquila turned his head away from them and brushed back his neatly combed hair out of habit.
“About two years ago, was there anyone around you whose health suddenly deteriorated?”
“……What nonsense are you speaking?”
“There should have been rumors during this recent commotion. That the one capable of casting the Venomous Curse is someone nearby.”
As he spoke, Aquila looked at Ianpel.
The rumor he had allowed to spread—without specific details—had flown across the continent like a winged whisper, mixed with truth and falsehood alike.
Those adept at discerning rumors would have already realized.
Others would deny it as absurd.
Orphe Pad Friadel, for instance, was of the latter kind.
“……I do not know what you have heard, but he is not such a person.”
“I do not know whom you are referring to, Lord Orphe. It seems you have someone in mind.”
“Are you testing me now?”
“No. I am simply telling you the truth.”
Aquila inclined his head slightly.
“The one who cast the Venomous Curse upon me was Celsia Leshenhart.”
“Young master……!”
This time, both Shen and Kahena leaned forward, but once again Aquila stopped them.
Kahena looked at him.
“Will that be all right?”
“It is something everyone will learn soon enough. I am merely saying it in advance.”
Rexenbert had only just returned to Igreil, so matters were chaotic.
Soon, however, there would be an official announcement.
No funeral. No mourning period.
Merely a statement of fact.
When that happened, even those who had dismissed the rumors would know for certain.
Aquila briefly explained Celsia’s condition—how she had collapsed as though struck by illness due to the backlash of the Venomous Curse.
“Pursue that matter. It is something only you, Lord Orphe, can accomplish.”
“Truly… truly, my elder brother……?”
Orphe muttered in disbelief.
If one pursued the facts further, the Second Prince’s faction would emerge.
But that was not Aquila’s concern.
Imperial politics were not within his jurisdiction.
The place Aquila needed to go was to resolve a far greater calamity.
“And we will need to revise our plans for the Labyrinth.”
“Oh? Revise, you say?”
“It is indeed important, but something occurred to me yesterday after our discussion ended.”
“Occurred to you? What might that be……?”
As Aquila glanced at Orphe’s troubled expression, Ianpel seemed to instantly understand what he intended to say.
The Dragon’s Prophecy.
The Saint’s expression cooled at once.
Though he had been informed of what would occur in the Frost Forest, neither of them had yet settled upon precise explanations.
Before Ianpel could ask further, Aquila spoke first.
“It may be fragmentary, but something is certain to occur there as well. Something that cannot be postponed.”
“……Meaning?”
“We must divide our forces. Evenly. However, in my opinion, Father must go to the place we discussed yesterday.”
“Why? Is something greater occurring there?”
Ianpel frowned.
It was not because he doubted Aquila.
Rather, it was because Aquila was saying that instead of calling Rexenbert to exterminate the Dark Guild in the Labyrinth, a Sword Master must be sent to the Frost Forest.
That would disrupt his plan.
Aquila tilted his head slightly and whispered a single sentence.
It would be enough to explain why a Sword Master must go to the Frost Forest.
“In the depths of the forest…… it appears that the demonic beast Fenrir has manifested.”
The Saint’s pale-violet eyes snapped toward Aquila at once.
***
Ianpel acknowledged the need to divide their forces.
Though it was true that the Temple of the Sun—and Ianpel himself—considered the Dark Guild an eyesore, the news that Fenrir had appeared in the Frost Forest was something even Ianpel could not ignore.
Fenrir, the colossal wolf-shaped demonic beast.
Recorded several times in historical texts, it was said to herald calamity.
And now it had grown even stronger by feeding upon the mud of the Black Swamp.
This was no trivial matter.
Though it currently remained within the Frost Forest, one day it would descend in search of prey, bringing disaster with it.
However, such decisions could not be made unilaterally.
Thus, the meeting concluded without a firm resolution.
Moreover, since Rexenbert could not come to the capital Denimarad, they agreed to hold another meeting with Astia acting as his representative.
In such matters, Astia was undoubtedly better suited than Aquila.
By the time Aquila left the Friadel estate, it was already nearing late evening.
Upon returning, he saw servants moving about busily.
Tomorrow, he would have to attend the party to which Tirgan had invited him.
‘……I am exhausted. I only hope nothing happens tomorrow.’
Aquila let out a long sigh.
Yet, as always, there was never a day of calm around him.
“Is it Leshenhart’s etiquette to refuse even a grandfather who wishes to see his grandson?”
At last, a messenger of Ludovica had come to seek him out.