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Chapter Three: The Saint’s Turmoil
Two weeks had passed since the party at the royal palace, and Theresalo stood in a hidden room of the noble academy, her cheek twitching as three young men prostrated themselves before her.
Why?! Why are they kneeling in front of me?! One of them is from a ducal house, and the other two are the sons of marquises!
Lord Zumiano groveled in front of her, with Lord Turgis and Lord Shizolda right behind him. The latter was not only the son of the kingdom’s chancellor, but also the crown prince’s second cousin. In other words, while he wasn’t in the direct line of succession, he was still technically related to the royal family. Meanwhile, Theresalo was merely the daughter of an insignificant baron, who had only recently acquired a noble title.
She felt like she was about to pass out.
The three young men had already been on the floor when she’d entered the room after being summoned, with Lady Wellmy standing beside them, her hands on her hips and a satisfied look on her face.
Е̂n u m̈ á
She was still as lovely and beautiful as usual, but some sort of pressure was emanating from her in this particular moment.
“Um... Wh-Why are these gentlemen kneeling in front of me...” Theresalo timidly asked.
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“To beg for your forgiveness, of course!” Lady Wellmy said with a sniff, looking down at the young men with contempt.
“U-Um, but they are the sons—the heirs even—of powerful noble families, are they not...?”
“You nearly lost your dignity as a maiden because of them! This is the bare minimum they can do to apologize. Their parents and His Majesty have agreed to it, so don’t worry so much! Besides, right now they’re not noblemen; they’re my guards—all three of them!”
For some reason, Lady Wellmy seemed a tad desperate.
Е̊ń ūḿá.і̃ ď
“I-I see...” Theresalo replied. She wanted to ask what had happened, but couldn’t bring herself to.
“They’re apologizing to Lady Theresalo, huh? Should I join them?”
Lord Seyfalt stood beside Theresalo, a hand on his chin as if in thought. His expression was much, much softer than before.
“Please don’t! You’ve already apologized, Lord Seyfalt,” Theresalo pleaded. She didn’t want the situation to get even more confusing.
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From the looks of it, Lord Seyfalt had been summoned so that he could apologize to Theresalo as well, but the young lord had already written her a letter expressing his remorse once he had no longer been under the influence of Saintly Charm. He could have handed it to her at school, but according to Lady Wellmy, he’d been too scared and had asked her to deliver it to Theresalo.
The last person in the room was Sofoyl, in full knight regalia. Their engagement still hadn’t been renewed, but Lady Wellmy had said it was only a matter of time. He and Theresalo had been able to discuss the situation and express their feelings for each other, so while their engagement remained technically void, they were at least back to being romantic partners.
Е ṅǔ m̌ ȧ
Speaking of Sofoyl, he was currently glaring at Lord Zumiano and the others, his face dark with displeasure and fury radiating from every pore. He stood behind the three young lords with an imposing stance, ready to draw his sword at a moment’s notice.
“U-U-Um, you don’t need to apologize to m-me!” Theresalo stammered. It was all in the past.
Besides, Sofoyl had returned to the capital; that was all she cared about. When she’d told him that perhaps the situation wasn’t all that bad, since it had brought him back to her, Sofoyl had thrown her an exasperated glance and called her too soft.
“By the way, what are you all doing here? This is the noble academy, and you’re not students anymore...” Theresalo asked.
“Huh? I had Prince Leoniel give us permission to come.”
Your Highneeeeeess! Why did you do thaaat?! Theresalo screamed inwardly.
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The room they were in was the one Prince Leoniel had used to host secret meetings for Lady Iora—also known as the “salon.”
“Now that I think about it, you and Lord Seyfalt came here on your own. Did you know about this place?” Lady Wellmy asked.
Who cares about that? Tell them to stand up, please!!! Despite her inner turmoil, Theresalo obediently replied to the question she’d been asked. “Um, I... I’ve been a member of the salon since about six months before your graduation...”
Lady Wellmy paused. “What?” For some reason, her demeanor turned icy. Her gemlike vermilion eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint forming in them.
“Eek! Wh-What is it?” Theresalo squeaked.
“I see. So while I was bored out of my mind, spending time with Arvine, you were here having fun with my sister. Is that what you’re saying, Theresalo?”
E ǹ u m а̀.
“Uuuh, um, I-I-I...?!” Theresalo’s mind went blank. She was at a complete loss for words.
She realized now that bringing up Lady Iora’s school days in front of Lady Wellmy had been a big mistake... But it was too late.
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“So that’s why you were so friendly toward Leo, even at the start. I see, I see...”
“No, I mean, I, um...” Theresalo pressed her hands against her chest, her body stiffening as her gaze wandered.
Lady Wellmy brought a finger to Theresalo’s chin, her perfectly manicured nails the same vermilion color as her eyes, and tilted it upward. The two of them were of similar heights, yet there was a sadistic pressure in her smile—which didn’t quite reach her eyes—that made Theresalo want to call her “mistress.”
It’s like Lord Aides’s personality is rubbing off on her! Theresalo thought, cold sweat running down her back as the marquis’s face appeared in the back of her mind. She’d only met him a handful of times, but had already noticed his personality was drastically different when he was with Lady Wellmy and when he wasn’t.
Ẁеb́ n̂_о̃ v_е̄l E̊ nú mà
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have come to your rescue back at the palace,” Lady Wellmy said, her voice ice-cold.
Theresalo closed her eyes and reflexively blurted out the first thing that crossed her mind, “Eek! Theresalo is so very thankful you saved her, big sister Wellmy!”
Even with her eyes shut, she could feel Lady Wellmy freeze at her words.
Timidly opening her eyes, she saw that the young woman was staring at her.
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“Theresalo.”
“Y-Yeees?” she whimpered.
Е nǔm̀а̇.і̂ d
“Say it again.”
“I’m very thankful you saved me, big sister Wellmy!”
All of a sudden, Lady Wellmy snapped out of her “execution mode,” the intimidating expression melting from her face. Instead, a rapturous look took over her features. Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes clouded as she kept them trained on Theresalo.
All Theresalo could do was stare in awe at the expression on Lady Wellmy’s face. Even as a fellow woman, she found it so seductive and poignant that it made her heart throb.
A sigh of ecstasy slipped past Lady Wellmy’s lips. “Oh, this is great...!”
“Huh?”
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“Theresalo. From now on, you are to call me ‘big sister’ at all times.”
“U-Understood, big sister!”
Lord Seyfalt nodded pensively. “Ah, so this is why men enjoy gazing at beautiful flowers mingling. It seems Lady Wellmy has discovered a new...inclination. Then again, she always had a disposition for it...”
Sofoyl’s impatient sigh put an end to their chattering. “Excuse me, but could we please move on to the main topic at hand?” he asked in a low voice.
“Ah, right. My apologies for the wait, Lord Sofoyl, especially since I’m the one who made you come all the way here,” big sister Wellmy said, her tone light and airy, and a smile on her lips. She turned to the young men prostrated on the floor. “Come on, you three. Apologize to her.”
“We’re very sorry!” the three men declared in unison.
Ѐ ṅu ḿ а̊
“I-I-I forgive you!” Theresalo hurriedly said.
“What are you doing?! You can’t!” big sister Wellmy chided her.
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“Wh-Why not?! I can’t take it anymore! At least allow them to lift their faces, please!” Theresalo pleaded, on the verge of tears.
Big sister Wellmy finally told the men they could raise their heads.
A wave of relief washed over Theresalo, so intense that she almost collapsed to the floor, but Sofoyl swiftly came to steady her.
“Can we talk now, Wellie?” Lord Zumiano asked, a bright grin on his face. He had been forced to stay in a terribly humiliating position, yet seemed not to think anything of it. He didn’t look particularly remorseful either, unlike the other two young men behind him.
Е̇nu m a
Lord Seyfalt stared at him with a somewhat complicated expression. From what Theresalo had heard, he seemed to consider Lord Zumiano a brother.
“Just so you know, if you blabber about unrelated things, I will kill you,” big sister Wellmy warned him.
“I’ll be serious, I promise. I know my place, I think.”
Lord Zumiano was the mastermind who had manipulated Lord Turgis, Lord Shizolda, and Lord Seyfalt.
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Theresalo’s thought wandered back to Sofoyl’s reaction when the two of them were told what had truly happened. He’d remained silent for a moment before whispering, “Whenever the four of them spoke to me, they were always friendly. They recognized my achievements and never belittled me for my status.”
Theresalo could see others’ magical energy, and these four noblemen’s auras all felt comfortable to her, so she understood Sofoyl’s feelings.
Е̃_nú ḿ а
Lord Zumiano said he did all of this to help Lord Turgis’s love come true...
His methods had been utterly absurd, and countless people had suffered the consequences of his actions, but, while a little distorted, his magical energy certainly didn’t feel malicious to Theresalo. However, where everyone else’s aura bloomed with color, his was ashen—almost like a discolored painting.
Taking another look, Theresalo noticed that the reason his aura looked so muted was that there was some sort of distortion in the magical energy coming from his head—one of the two sources of a person’s energy, the other being the heart.
She automatically reached a hand toward Lord Zumiano’s forehead.
“Hmm? What is it?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips.
“Ah, um, nothing much,” Theresalo replied evasively. “Could you please stay still for a moment?” She subtly cast a holy spell on him to fix the distortion in his magical energy.
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That ability of hers to not just feel others’ auras but to actually be able to see them was apparently rare. Prince Tygrim had ordered her to reveal it only to those she knew she could trust. Moreover, she could indirectly heal wounds and ease the pain caused by distortions in a person’s magical energy by repairing them; from what she’d been told, only she could do that.
The distortion in Lord Zumiano’s aura was in the middle of his forehead. It must have been this way for quite some time, so her holy spell alone wouldn’t be enough for it to return to normal right away. Still, it was now slightly less muted, as if a drop of color had dripped into the ashen sea of his aura. The distorted part should gradually fix itself with time.
“What did you just do?” big sister Wellmy asked quizzically.
“Ah, my apologies... I, um, saw that Lord Zumiano had an old injury, so I took the liberty to heal it. Um, Lord Zumiano?” Theresalo turned to the young man.
He cocked his head to the side, visibly curious. “Mm-hmm? What is it?”
“Did you hurt your head as a child?”
En ū m̈ ã
Lord Shizolda and Lord Turgis’s eyes snapped open at the question—more startled than Lord Zumiano, for some reason.
“Did I hurt my head? Oh, right, I once fell from a cliff to protect Nineena when she lost her footing, didn’t I?” he explained nonchalantly, as if it were nothing major.
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Lord Shizolda sighed. “What do you mean, ‘Oh right’? You almost died that day.”
“Did I?” Lord Zumiano drawled with a chuckle.
Big sister Wellmy stared at him like he was a rare creature she’d never seen before. “Huh. So there was a time in your life when you could act on impulse,” she remarked.
“What do you take me for, Wellie?”
Ӗ n ûm̈а . і d
“A huge weirdo, that’s what.”
“Aw, I feel like you just said something really mean.”
“Um!” Theresalo interjected. She felt bad for interrupting their conversation, but what she had to say was very important. “Hurting your head can lead to all sorts of consequences, even if everything seems fine on the surface.”
One day, while healing someone whose mental health had been affected by a distortion in the magical energy near their head—one that looked similar to Lord Zumiano’s—she’d learned that this type of issue could even alter one’s personality. The person she had healed had been suffering from severe depression, but the symptoms had mellowed drastically after a few months. Some time later, that person had been completely cured.
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“Did you notice some sort of change within yourself after suffering that injury?” Theresalo asked.
“Hmm? It was so long ago, I don’t really remember. Ah, but it might have been around that time I started to find everything boring... Huh?” Lord Zumiano frowned. Big sister Wellmy, Lord Turgis, and Lord Shizolda looked surprised to see that uncharacteristic expression on his face.
W e b n̈ о̆vеl̂ E n̂u m̈ а̃
But his usual carefree smile returned almost at once. “Oh, well,” he said, as if nothing had happened.
Seeing that his aura had started regaining some vibrance, Theresalo chose not to press the matter.
“Back to the matter of my apology to you, Theresalo,” he said.
“Ah, yes,” Theresalo replied with a nod, despite thinking that he really didn’t need to apologize anymore.
A bright grin on his face, the young man uttered something absolutely outrageous: “I heard you don’t want to join the Holy Church, so I’ve made the necessary arrangements to shut it down.”
Theresalo froze in shock. “What...?”
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“What in the world was that, Lord Zumiano?!” big sister Wellmy shouted. “Be clearer!”
“You told me not to blabber about unrelated things, so I figured I’d keep it short,” Lord Zumiano retorted.
“The object of your sentence isn’t clear! What you’re shutting down is the matter of Theresalo joining the church, right?! Not the church itself!”
“Ooh, I see the confusion now.” Lord Zumiano tapped his fist against his open palm.
Despite her turmoil, Theresalo somehow managed to regain enough calm to speak. “Y-You can do that?” she blurted out.
“Yup, I sure can,” the young lord replied, making it sound like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Е n̂ ũ m а̇. і d̃
Theresalo had merely postponed her departure to the Holy Church. She thought it had been decided she’d eventually leave for the empire to become a saint at their head church.
Lord Zumiano chuckled nonchalantly. “I did something to put the church—well, the pope—in my debt, and gave him some information to keep him quiet. Now, you don’t have to move to the church, but only if you renew your engagement to Sofoyl.”
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He made it sound like nothing, but the magnitude of his words was so huge, Theresalo’s brain couldn’t keep up. He put His Holiness the Pope in his debt? And he gave him information...to “keep him quiet”?
Just what in the world was that man saying?
“When did you contact His Holiness? You’ve been in jail for the past few weeks, haven’t you?” Theresalo asked.
“I sent him a letter,” Lord Zumiano replied. “Besides, I’d already planted the seed before the season started.”
W еbn̊ о̌vе̇ ĺ Е ň_ûmа̊
“That was four months ago!”
“Yup. Don’t you know? You have to clean up after yourself when you’re done playing. So I preemptively made some arrangements to revert everything to normal once this was over, regardless of whether I won or lost.”
I’m quite sure most people don’t have the power to make those sorts of arrangements! Also... Did he just say the outrage he has caused was just him “playing”?! His scheme could have shaken the Lionel Kingdom, the Baslam Empire, and the Holy Church to their cores. Yet, he’d dismiss it as mere “play.”
Was he really human? Theresalo began to wonder if he might be the demon king in disguise.
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“All you did was cause a ton of trouble for everyone involved before losing to Aides. Stop looking so smug!” big sister Wellmy scolded him.
“I’m not looking smug,” Lord Zumiano argued.
Е̌ǹü m̀ a_.і d̃
Someone defeated that demon king?! Aaah! As it turned out, Marquis Ormirage was stronger than even the demon king Zumanio. Perhaps he was some sort of evil god.
Lord Seyfalt and Sofoyl had tensed up at Lord Zumiano’s words, but big sister Wellmy seemed completely unfazed.
Also... Did she just call Marquis Ormirage by his first name? With no honorific?!
Right—before big sister Wellmy became a candidate for the position of crown princess, there had been rumors that she would marry the lord of magic. Due to her low station, Theresalo hadn’t been invited to the party where those whispers began, but could it be that they went beyond mere rumors?
Realizing just how incredible the young woman who had told her to call her “big sister” truly was, Theresalo began trembling.
Of course, she’d known all along that big sister Wellmy wasn’t just a regular noble lady. Not only did she have the blood of the Liroud ducal house running through her veins, but she was also the sister of the kingdom’s future crown princess and had the authority to ask Prince Leoniel for favors. And to top it all off, she could call the demon king and the evil god by their first names and was to marry Marquis Ormirage—the kingdom’s most influential marquis?
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Is big sister Wellmy a goddess? Or the great demon queen?! As Theresalo stood there, her brain going into overdrive, Sofoyl raised a question.
“Lord Zumiano, Lady Liroud. Um... May I ask what you meant when you said that Theresalo could renew her engagement to me?”
“Oh, right. Here.” Lord Zumiano produced a letter and handed it to Sofoyl. “That sly fox of a king told me to give you this. It’s a royal decree to renew your engagement. Ah, don’t worry; he said that if you don’t need it, you can just tear it up and toss it away.”
“I didn’t say anything when you called Theresalo by her first name without any honorifics, but don’t go around calling His Majesty ‘that sly fox of a king’! What if someone overhears you?!” big sister Wellmy scolded him for the umpteenth time today.
“Oh, come on, Wellie, you call the crown prince by his first name. Besides, we’re in the salon His Highness created for Iora. No one will overhear us here. You’re such a worrywart.”
Theresalo threw tentative glances at the letter in Sofoyl’s hands. It indeed stated that her engagement to him was to be renewed and bore the signature of the king.
Ẁ ē b̂n o v ê l̄ Е n̆ u ṁ_а̄
I... I don’t understand!
Of course, Theresalo was ecstatic to be able to marry the man she’d loved all her life—the kind boy five years older who’d had to work to support his family, but who would still play with her once he was done for the day. Even after becoming a knight, he would come to find her on his days off to give her candy. She’d beg him to tell her about the order of chivalry, and he would share all sorts of anecdotes with her, even though he wasn’t the talkative type.
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Theresalo had always been in love with Sofoyl and was very persistent in her desire to marry him. He’d tried to decline at first, concerned about Theresalo’s future due to their age difference and her status as a prospective saint, but she continued to express her feelings to him until he eventually agreed. Their engagement was the most precious of all promises to Theresalo. It had been the only bond that tied them when Sofoyl had been fighting at the border, far away from the capital. Needless to say, she had been devastated when it had been called off.
But when he’d returned, he’d told her that he, too, loved her. Those words had made her so happy, she’d felt like she could soar in the sky.
All these memories flooded in, and she felt tears prick at her eyes. Noticing her agitation, Sofoyl gently stroked her back.
“There’s something else I don’t understand. Why is renewing our engagement the condition for Theresalo not moving to the Holy Church?” he asked in Theresalo’s stead, as she was in no state to speak.
Ė n u m̈â . і d́_
Lord Zumiano had used his influence as the son of a marquis to break their engagement, yet he was now offering them the greatest possible reparation.
He shifted his gaze to Sofoyl, a foolish smile on his lips. “You’ve been hiding it, but you’re the Knight of Light, aren’t you?”
This time, it was Sofoyl’s turn to freeze.
The Knight of Light appeared in legends, just like the Pink-Haired, Silver-Eyed Maiden. According to the tales, they were an individual blessed by the element of light, with the power to defeat intelligent beasts known as archmonsters, as well as archdevils, humanoid beings that were much stronger than regular humans.
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“Did you know? In the legends and historical records, whenever a Pink-Haired, Silver-Eyed Maiden—in other words, a girl like Theresalo—appeared, so did archbeasts and archdevils. On top of that, the monsters grew stronger too. And there have been reports recently of a similar phenomenon happening, with monsters being more active,” Lord Zumiano said, blabbering on and on.
Theresalo couldn’t see what he was getting at.
W̃ е̇.b̄n̄ о̄ vёl̇ Е n̆ umã
“What’s more, in every recorded appearance of a Pink-Haired, Silver-Eyed Maiden, there was a Knight of Light too. The Maiden can only heal and purify after all; she doesn’t have the power to fight monsters.”
The Holy Church had gained the influence it had nowadays because of the presence of the saints, but some claimed every ruling house on the central continent—including House Lionel—had once produced either a Knight of Light or a Pink-Haired, Silver-Eyed Maiden, and that was how they’d become so powerful.
Theresalo had never heard of the tie between the Knight of Light and the Maiden, but Sofoyl looked like he knew about it. He clenched his teeth, his grip on Theresalo’s shoulder tightening ever so slightly.
“Did you hide your true nature because it’s a hassle? Or was there another reason?” Lord Zumiano asked.
His attitude was the same as ever as he interrogated Sofoyl—his usual cheerful smile on his face, acting as if he’d seen through everything.
After a brief moment of silence, Sofoyl let out a small sigh. “It was to protect Theresalo and stay by her side. The only reason I agreed to fight at the border was to hunt for the monsters that had started to grow in power so that I could kill them before they turned into archbeasts.”
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“That’s exactly what I thought,” Lord Zumiano said. “Oh, and Theresalo? I’m not an archdevil, and neither is the lord of magic nor Wellie, ’kay?”
Theresalo’s breath hitched. He’d seen straight through her.
“I-I-I...” she stammered.
“You thought we might be, didn’t you? To prove I’m not, I’ve brought you this. Ta-daaah!” Zumiano declared, producing a perfume and a bracelet and setting them on the table.
Big sister Wellmy’s face paled at the sight. “Zumiano! Those are—”
“Ah, they’re not what you think, Wellie. They’re not the mind-control kinds, but the actual goals of my research.”
Ŵе̌b n о̄v_el̂ É n̂ ǔṁa
“What do you mean?” she asked, not lowering her guard.
“Behold!” Lord Zumiano announced. “This perfume blocks monsters’ ability to think, and this bracelet creates a radius around the wearer that weakens monsters.”
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At this point, nothing can shock me anymore today.
“When I started to suspect the lord of magic had started investigating the people who helped me smuggle contraband into the kingdom, he went and found the workshop I’d tried so hard to keep hidden. I assume he must’ve seen my research. A few days ago, he told me that he had some information for me if the results weren’t enough to shut up the pope. He’s the one who revealed to me that Sofoyl was actually the Knight of Light.”
There was definitely something strange about Marquis Ormirage. How had he even learned this?
“So these are what you used to ‘keep the pope quiet’?”
Wе̄ b̃ n̆ o_v̈_е l̆ Е̊n̄u m̌ ӑ
“Exactly. From my testing, it seems that weak monsters freeze when they smell this perfume, while the strongest ones get dizzy. As for the bracelet, I think it should weaken even large beasts enough for a skilled knight to take them one-on-one.”
As he explained the incredible effects of his items, he flashed the others a wink.
“I offered the rights to the perfume to the pope, along with the information about Sofoyl being the Knight of Light, and promised to make it seem like it was the Holy Church that came up with the perfume—on the surface at least,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “But His Holiness isn’t an idiot. He agreed to my conditions, but only if Sofoyl announces publicly that he is the Knight of Light and comes to get the Holy Church’s blessing with Theresalo. I guess he doesn’t want to lose face now that Theresalo has made it clear she doesn’t want to join the main church.”
“His negotiation techniques are sly for a clergyman’s,” big sister Wellmy remarked, visibly exasperated.
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Lord Zumiano shrugged. “All people in power are like that. As for the bracelet, I struck a deal with the royal family and the Ministry of Magic: They get to mass-produce it on their own terms, and I walk away a free man. The lord of magic intends to announce later that I won’t be personally involved in the process. And since I’m part of the three idiots who screwed up”—he gestured at himself, Lord Turgis, and Lord Shizolda—“no one will complain that the kingdom gets the right to oversee something I invented. It looks like I’m still going to collect some royalties as its creator, but I plan to give those—and the rights to the bracelet—to Sofoyl. This way, everything should be resolved,” he concluded, pressing his palms together next to his face and tilting his head, his perpetual smile still on his lips.
“What’s that mannerism? Gross,” big sister Wellmy jeered.
Ê n̊ u mа . і̇_d̂
“You’re always so mean to me, Wellie. Anyway, Sofoyl, what do you say to all this?”
“I have no objection to making my identity public... But may I ask why you want to give me the royalties from the bracelet? I do not wish for money.”
“Well, you wanna help Theresalo, don’t you?” Lord Zumiano said airily. “Status, wealth, influence, position. Do you really think you can protect the one and only Maiden with nothing but your sword?”
Sofoyl remained silent at this.
“The Holy Church has agreed to back down for now, but the moment you slip up, they’ll definitely use it as an excuse to reclaim her. And that’s not even taking into account the other nations and criminals. If any of them decide they want her, they likely won’t hesitate to resort to abduction or threats.”
Lord Zumiano’s eyes were perfectly calm as he cornered Sofoyl with razor-sharp comments.
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“When you’re out fighting monsters as the hero that you are, who—or what—is going to protect Theresalo?”
Lord Zumiano was a simplehearted man, which was to say he couldn’t really make the distinction between good and bad. He likely regarded virtue and malice with the same detached eye and therefore never bothered softening his words. To him, he was merely stating facts.
“Do you understand now, Sofoyl? If you want to protect Theresalo, you need to employ people you can count on, rise in the ranks, and achieve things no one can take from you. And for that, you need the money from the bracelet. Of course, if you think you can’t handle all that and would prefer to run away, be my guest,” Lord Zumiano drawled.
“I won’t run away,” Sofoyl assured him after a brief pause.
“Then take it, ’kay?”
Sofoyl accepted the bracelet Lord Zumiano was holding out to him and shifted his gaze to Theresalo.
Ѐ n üm̂а̃ . і̇ d̈
“Theresalo,” he said, his narrow eyes trained on her.
While he couldn’t be described as handsome, Theresalo loved him all the same.
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“Yes?!” she squeaked.
“I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life by your side,” he said quietly.
She nodded.
“Do you feel the same way?” he asked.
W̆ ĕbñöv̌ е l Е ǹ ü m а̃
A radiant grin split her face. “Yes!”
At that moment, the tears she had been holding back spilled over.
Big sister Wellmy handed her a handkerchief, so Theresalo used it to wipe her face. But then, the others started clapping, and she felt so embarrassed she had to cast her eyes down.
“Now that you’ve agreed to formally stand as the Knight of Light, Sofoyl, I have another present for you,” Lord Zumiano said. He walked over to a corner of the salon and returned with a long, narrow bundle in his hand.
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“What is it?” Sofoyl asked.
“The Holy Sword of Light, a weapon with a light orb embedded in its hilt, and two replicas with fresh new orbs. That’s three new swords for you. We intend to mass-produce these too.”
Ё n ǔ m̊ а.id
Sofoyl’s mouth fell open. “What?”
As he stood there, flabbergasted, Lord Zumiano opened the bundle, revealing three identical white swords. They were quite plain, lacking the embellishments to be called elegant, but one bore a sacred aura. As for the other two, they both had an orb embedded in the hilt, with no magical energy inside, just like Lord Zumiano had explained.
“Isn’t the Sword of Light a national treasure...?” Sofoyl asked.
“That sly fox of a king said it was just gathering dust in a storeroom, so you could have it,” Lord Zumiano explained. “He was planning on giving it to its rightful owner once he or she appeared anyway. Oh, and as for the replicas, they should work like the original once you or Theresalo channels some light magic into the orbs. Other knights can even use them if you give them permission, so don’t hesitate to share with your friends. They’re really effective against monsters.”
Big sister Wellmy must’ve been just as confused as Theresalo, as she asked, “Can holy swords really be replicated that easily?”
“Oh, I didn’t make the replica,” Lord Zumiano replied.
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“Who did?”
“The lord of magic, Countess Ernest, and the lord of security worked on it together. Apparently, they managed to make orichalcum—the material used to make holy swords—from mithril. Ah, I think that was supposed to be kept a secret...”
“My goodness! How incredible Aides and my sister are! But it’s not fair they met without me!” big sister Wellmy exclaimed, cycling through joy and frustration.
Beside her, Lord Turgis and Lord Shizolda went pale at Lord Zumiano’s nonchalant revelation. Theresalo shared their shock, but most importantly...
Is it just me, or has our nation become the strongest kingdom in the entire history of the world...?
The outstanding discoveries and actions of the kingdom’s key figures could completely shake the world—an idea so terrifying that Theresalo immediately forced herself to stop thinking about it.
Wѐ ḃň о̃v е l̈ Е̇nùm̌ă
They’re even scarier than the demon king...
Theresalo didn’t know what would happen a few years down the line.
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How mighty archmonsters and archdevils claiming to be the strongest in history would appear.
How Sofoyl would lead his “Holy Knights” to defeat them in what would be the swiftest campaign known to humankind.
How Theresalo herself would purify the land with her holy magic—hailed as the most powerful ever witnessed.
How the crown prince and his wife would make numerous historic discoveries, bringing extraordinary prosperity to the kingdom.
En ǔ m а .ĩ.d
How the second prince would rise to the highest rank within the Holy Church.
How the lord of foreign affairs, his wife, and their collaborators would use their diplomatic abilities to secure the help of countries from all over the world in record time.
Of course, it wasn’t just Theresalo—no one could have predicted it at the time.
