“Your Excellency, please eat something. You’ll ruin your health.”
For three days, Fernandez had been practically living in the storage room and archives, gathering materials. Kirhas handed him a biscuit with a worried look.
On the side table of the records room, countless documents and books were piled up haphazardly. Fernandez rubbed his tired eyes but didn’t stop working. Under his hands, a thick document was nearing completion.
[Special Operation Proposal: Touring Performance]
Fernandez smiled as he stamped the cover of the proposal. He neatly folded a map of the Dane Kingdom, covered with notes and highlights, and attached it to the proposal. It was a masterpiece he and Faijashi had worked on for three sleepless nights.
The Dane Kingdom—Fernandez thought of his homeland. The Sernerd Barony was one of the forgotten rural territories of the Dane Kingdom. This country, which could also be called his motherland, was now about to become a grand stage for a play. The protagonist, the allies, the antagonists—the script for all the characters, lighting, and sound was in his hands.
A war would break out between Phaeirn and Dane. In his previous life, Phaeirn had fallen due to the Demdrizard Church, while Dane, suffering under the tyranny of a mad king, barely maintained the Eastern Kingdom Alliance under the young hero Vicente II, who ascended the throne just before the Great War.
However, Demdrizard had fallen from power, and the demonic church that ruled Phaeirn from the shadows had been expelled by Zephis. In this chaotic international situation, with Infermur falling into the hands of the Dane Kingdom, Phaeirn began preparing for war.
The current situation, though not entirely Fernandez’s intention, was within his expected range. After the Infermur incident, upon returning to the Inquisition Office, Fernandez had been plotting to prevent this war.
-Crunch.
Fernandez chewed on the biscuit as he thought. If the Eastern Kingdom Alliance collapsed, the Leviathan Empire alone wouldn’t be able to sustain the war against the Kazarit Sultanate. And if the Kazarit Sultanate took control of the frontlines, beneath it lay…
“The Necropolis Undercatacombs…”
Fernandez recalled the continental map. The reason the great war between the two empires hadn’t subsided for over a century was due to their influence. The war, which was twisting the foundation of human civilization, had to be stopped, but the time wasn’t right yet.
If one of the two empires took control of the central region where the Undercatacombs were located, and if those beings were released from underground, even Fernandez’s power wouldn’t be enough to stop the situation. The current balance of power between the Leviathan Empire and the Kazarit Sultanate needed to be maintained a little longer.
In any case, to keep the war in the central region going for now, Fernandez had to stop the war in the Eastern Kingdom. He chuckled at this paradoxical situation. Finishing the biscuit, he stood up with the proposal in hand.
-Tap, tap.
Beorn slowly read Fernandez’s proposal, almost chewing on the words. He kept glancing at the map of the Dane Kingdom and tapping the table. Fernandez sipped his tea, waiting patiently.
-Thud.
Finally, Beorn closed the document and let out a long sigh. For a while, he sat in silence, rubbing his forehead. His monocle dangled from his thick index finger. Eventually, he opened his eyes.
“Is this your conclusion?”
“Yes, Director.”
What could a religious figure do to prevent the war between Phaeirn and Dane? The simplest and quickest answer Fernandez had come up with was one.
‘The Knight King must be resurrected.’
Or, at least, make people believe he had been resurrected. Under the assumption that the Church of the Temple of the Gods wouldn’t intervene politically, what was needed to stop this war was a hero. A symbolic hero, so symbolic that even other kingdoms wouldn’t dare invade.
“Fanciful and lengthy. You know that, right?”
“It would be if it fails.”
“Are you confident it will succeed?”
“I’ve never acted without confidence.”
“Humility is a virtue of the religious.”
“Thank you.”
Fernandez smiled. Beorn nodded at that smile. If he hadn’t become a priest, what would this young man have grown into? He secretly felt relieved at Fernandez’s arrogant smile. This was a young man who could have become a great hero or a terrible calamity.
“Don’t expect the Church’s support for this operation.”
“Of course not. The evidence of the Church’s involvement should only be known by the gods above.”
“You are now a secular priest.”
Beorn spoke calmly.
“Return the Church’s relics and revert to being a regular priest. Officially, until this operation succeeds, Fernandez Sernerd is not a member of the Inquisition Office. Your new identification will be sent as soon as it’s approved by the Papacy.”
“Thank you for everything so far.”
“Good luck.”
Until now, only a few priests of the Inquisition Office and a handful of Papacy priests knew about the saint. From the moment Fernandez decided not to act as the Church’s propaganda tool, he was treated as the Church’s hidden blade.
In the end, it was an extremely successful decision. The achievements Fernandez had made in his short time were anything but trivial. It was only possible because the gods had blessed him. Beorn stamped the proposal.
“I authorize the use of equipment. Go see Brother Marteiro to check your gear.”
“Thank you for your kindness. Abbot of St. Bartholomew Monastery.”
“Make sure you come back alive, Sir Sernerd. You have much to do.”
“Macto.”
“Macto Superlaudo, believer.”
The fact that Fernandez had been canonized was a top secret of the Inquisition Office. The Inquisition’s motto was only rumors, only results, only fear. In an era when the Temple of the Gods was sealed, the appearance of stigmata and a saint was too flashy a title.
Fernandez bowed deeply to Beorn and stepped back. He grabbed the doorknob and walked away. Creak, thud. The door closed with a dry sound. Beorn touched Fernandez’s proposal and sighed.
“May the Temple of the Gods protect us.”
He picked up the report he had prepared to send to the Papacy…
