Chapter 81

In the capital of Grantera, at a luxurious tavern with nine floors, a group of influential figures gathered on the top floor. Though each of them could shake the empire with a mere cough, their expressions were far from pleasant.

“Good things never come easy,” Duke Valder broke the silence.

“Indeed, good things always face many obstacles,” a temple-affiliated noble chimed in. The Duke didn’t respond further. Truthfully, it was rare to find someone who both respected and feared the “big brother” as much as he did.

They had hoped time would take care of things, but interference had ruined their plans. A priest serving the Ancient God had disrupted what should have been a straightforward matter.

Prince Edmund, the Emperor’s son, listened quietly, his expression unchanged. Archbishop Armata of the Hilrae Church spoke softly, “It seems the Emperor truly intends to make the Princess his successor. His attitude toward her is entirely different from how he treats the Prince.”

“Archbishop, let’s not discuss that further. Isn’t it time you helped me instead?” Edmund interjected.

“The Elysia Church will always stand by you, Prince. A noble figure is already on their way here by land. We can pressure the Emperor,” Archbishop Arice of the Elysia Church assured.

This was the capital, the most bustling city on the continent. The Archbishop of Grantera, though technically below a Cardinal in rank, wielded immense power, second only to the Pope and the Saintess within the Church.

The room’s attention turned to Archbishop Halonen of the Nemi Church. His stance was crucial. Among the Three Gods, Nemi, the goddess of abundance, was the most revered, followed by Elysia, who burned evil with light, and Hilrae, who lagged behind due to her healing-focused divine power, which could often be replaced by the other two.

“Whatever you all plan, promise me one thing,” Halonen said, downing a bottle of wine. His glistening eyes scanned the room before he continued, “The Princess can be removed for the sake of the nation, but do not touch that priest. I have no desire to end up like a vampire. This is not my will, but the will of the mother I serve.”

It was clear who he meant by “mother.” Everyone nodded in agreement—except one.

“No, that man must die,” Archbishop Armata declared firmly. “We cannot incur the Ancient God’s wrath by killing him ourselves. But if we must, there’s only one way. Halonen, no one should serve a god greater than our goddesses. Such a person must be removed before they shake the faith of more believers.”

He drew a line across his throat. The temple nobles were shocked. They had never seen this side of the Archbishop.

Halonen crossed his arms and smirked. “Is that so? The Nemi Church will not partake in such matters.”

The bigger issue was the growing rift between the two Archbishops. Duke Valder fidgeted nervously as the two glared at each other. Though the Three God Faith presented a united front, the truth was far more complicated.

Halonen eventually softened his expression. “You’re too hasty. This isn’t something we can decide alone. Let’s wait for the goddesses to mediate and give us their answer. Then none of us will have complaints.”

“Agreed. We’ll wait for the goddesses’ decree,” Armata replied, forcing a smile.

The two shook hands in front of everyone, but their inner thoughts were far from harmonious. Halonen, in particular, was deeply troubled. Days earlier, he had a dream where the goddess herself visited him. Such divine encounters were reserved for the Pope and the Saintess, making this unprecedented.

The goddess had commanded him to protect the priest of the Ancient God. Halonen could only guess why—perhaps the Saintess, the goddess’s chosen representative, was in trouble. This suspicion was confirmed when he received a secret message from the Pope. The Saintess had been cursed by Grimudo, transformed into a lark. Only the priest could undo this.

This was a secret that must never reach the Elysia or Hilrae Churches. If they discovered the Saintess’s humiliation, they would exploit it to sway believers to their own faiths.

“The Hero Party might be of use,” Archbishop Arice suggested, interrupting Halonen’s thoughts. “If the Hero publicly supports the Prince, it would lend us both legitimacy and strength. Her power is genuine and could be our last resort.”

“Archbishop, don’t underestimate the Emperor,” Duke Valder warned with a bitter smile. He knew the Emperor’s methods well. Though the Emperor appeared benevolent now, he had seized the throne through ruthless means.

The Duke worried for his nephew, Prince Edmund. The Emperor’s favoritism toward the Princess was unexpected. Perhaps it was all a ploy to provoke Edmund.

As the Duke pondered his next move, a loud explosion shook the building. The nobles and Archbishops exchanged alarmed glances. The explosions continued, one after another. Was this a coup? But who could be behind it? The only faction capable of such a move was the temple faction, yet they were all present.

“Where is this coming from?” someone asked.

“Nothing’s visible. Where is this noise coming from?”

From their vantage point on the ninth floor, they could see much of the capital, but there was no sign of chaos. The explosions seemed to come from afar—from the Citadel Republic.

A new storm was brewing, and its winds had reached the capital.