In the early morning, sunlight pierced the thin mist and fell across Belrand Cathedral.

White-jade-like stone pillars upheld the magnificent dome, and the colored glazed tiles cut the sunlight into pieces, casting the ever-burning candlelight in an air of mystery and holiness.

A solemn statue of the Goddess stood at the highest point of the sanctuary. The contours of her face were deep and exquisite, and the lines and details polished by the finest craftsmen were so lifelike that even her long eyelashes seemed clearly visible, as though the Goddess herself might step out from the stone at any moment and bring the most sacred blessing to all living beings.

As a newly built cathedral funded by House Campbell, Belrand Cathedral had been personally designed by Archbishop Canterbury. In both scale and refinement, it almost crushed other cathedrals of the same rank, and in some details could even stand comparison with the one in the Holy City.

Of course, only comparison. Equality or surpassing it was certainly out of the question. A breach of that sort was something a prudent old hand like Archbishop Canterbury would never commit... and his wallet could not have supported it anyway.

"So money really isn’t a problem for him? He actually finished it this fast."

This newly built cathedral had not yet been opened to the public. In the prayer hall there was only a small tea table. The former Saintess, Latina, sat upright beside it, holding fragrant tea from the Holy City and taking a light, elegant sip.

"I was honestly startled. I thought the Archbishop had dug out his coffin money. The last time I came here, this whole area was nothing but vacant land the Church had just bought. Forget a cathedral, there wasn’t even a single brick or tile."

"Heh heh, Your Highness jests. What coffin money would an old man like me have? If not for that boy from House Campbell being so generous, the construction of this new cathedral would have needed at least another ten years of preparation."

Archbishop Canterbury swayed his head with considerable self-satisfaction. During the several crises Belrand had suffered, every faction had fought every other one, blood had run so heavily it stained the sewers red, and the entire Empire had changed hands more than once... yet in the end, it was he, the Church’s archbishop, who had sat steady as a rock. He had only acted a few times here and there, and in silence had reaped this enormous benefit.

Though in a certain sense, it was also because that boy from House Campbell really did spend with a lavish hand. After all, who casually tossed out an entire cathedral?

"Though it does leave one boy suffering. I hear recently even the only ducal estate House Campbell has left got half of it blown up. Pitiful, pitiful indeed."

Canterbury stroked his beard and sighed sympathetically a few times, but the smile on his old face never stopped.

Before he could continue discussing Belrand’s hottest gossip of the past few days, however, a distinctly dissatisfied "hmph" suddenly sounded from not far away.

"But this is actually a kind of great wisdom."

Archbishop Canterbury immediately drew himself up and put on a solemn face. "That boy was one of Her Majesty’s greatest contributors in taking the throne, and Duke Campbell only recently succeeded in holding back the demonfolk in the Abyss. The father and son both have merit reaching the heavens. At a time like this, damaging himself by thirty percent is not without merit as a wise act of self-preservation. It also saves other people from carelessly wagging their tongues."

"Whether it’s wise or not, I don’t know. What I do know is that when Duke Campbell hears this news, he’s probably going to feel pretty suffocated... straighten your back!"

Latina’s tone suddenly sharpened, and that earlier "hmph" immediately turned into a sweet little whimper.

"Let’s leave this idle talk for now. Archbishop, there’s no need to keep calling me 'Your Highness.' Just call me Latina. I’m not the Saintess anymore. As for Her Highness the Saintess... that title has already passed to that one over there, who ignored her identity and ran around recklessly, nearly causing a disaster."

"..."

Archbishop Canterbury quietly flicked his gaze aside.

Beneath the statue of the Goddess not far away, the Church’s current Pure Saintess, Liya Angel, was kneeling in pious prayer. She did not look nearly so at ease as that image suggested, however, because a kind of golden rune was circling her body, constantly applying pressure to her delicate frame.

Liya was already covered in sweat, yet she still kept her back perfectly straight. Even Holy Light had been forbidden to her, making her look especially pitiful.

"This... surely the punishment for Her Highness the Saintess has already been enough, hasn’t it?"

Archbishop Canterbury gave two dry coughs and tried to persuade her. "In the end, no major disaster happened. There’s no need to be too harsh."

"It is precisely because she is the Saintess that the punishment must be heavier."

Latina set down her teacup and sighed.

"Her status is special. Other than His Holiness the Pope, no one has the authority to punish her. So when she does something wrong, only I, her teacher, can trouble myself a bit more."

"Teacher secretly ran off to the Imperial Palace too..." Liya muttered from the side.

"Hm?"

Latina swept her beautiful eyes over her and said coolly,

"Looks like the punishment still isn’t enough."

As soon as the words fell, those golden runes suddenly grew brighter. Liya’s lovely little face immediately scrunched up as she begged for mercy.

"Teacher, I was wrong... owww..."

Latina waved a hand. The golden runes trembled and linked into a curtain of light, blocking all of Liya’s pleas from being heard.

Once quiet returned, she turned back to Archbishop Canterbury.

"Let’s talk business. Have you identified the mole who leaked Liya’s whereabouts?"

"That part was easy to investigate. Under those circumstances, there were only two people who could possibly have exposed Her Highness the Saintess’s location. One was High Sister Lin, but if Lin had wanted to harm Her Highness, there would have been no need for such a roundabout method. As for the other..."

Archbishop Canterbury stroked his beard and stopped mid-sentence.

"The letter?" Latina raised a brow and finished it for him.

"Yes. The nun who delivered the letter to Her Highness the Saintess. After interrogation, she confessed everything about colluding with the Salvation Society."

Archbishop Canterbury took a confession statement from his sleeve. Latina accepted it and glanced over it. The contents were utterly ordinary: the nun who had delivered the letter had been brainwashed by the Salvation Society’s absurd doctrines, and so had chosen to betray the Church.

And yet something so ordinary could lead to the Church’s Saintess being targeted for assassination. That alone was enough to send a chill down one’s spine.

"There were faster, more secret, safer ways to communicate, and she still insisted on using an obvious weak point like delivering a letter. Did this girl really get kicked in the head by a donkey?"

Latina casually crumpled the confession in her hand, furious.

If this attack by the Salvation Society against Liya had been like the last one in the Holy City, where they had planned every detail and paid a considerable price to carry it out, then she would have had nothing to say.

But this time, the Salvation Society had clearly sent nothing but a pack of small fry. The entire plan had not even had a true high-ranking seat-holder overseeing it. The Third Seat who had appeared at the end had only stretched out a hand and gone through the motions. For an operation targeting the Saintess, it was almost unimaginable. And yet those very same small fry had really come close to harming Liya.

They had failed, yes, but there was no way this matter could simply let Liya skate past on carelessness and a cute act. No matter what, she had to be punished at least a little.

"You sound angry, but aren’t you still worrying about Her Highness the Saintess?"

Archbishop Canterbury chuckled as he topped off Latina’s tea.

"As her teacher, once you’ve punished her, the matter can pass. But if His Holiness the Pope were the one to punish her, he’d probably really confine Her Highness the Saintess in the Holy City for a while and make her peacefully attend to the Goddess."

"As the Saintess, shouldn’t she be stationed in the Holy City in the first place? Since when has a Saintess been allowed to run all over the world? Or sneak into a man’s estate in the middle of the night? If this ever got out, the entire Church would drown in the believers’ spit."

Latina’s tone remained indifferent, but while saying it, the golden runes around Liya still dimmed slightly in the end, giving her room to breathe again.

"Forget it. Enough about that infuriating girl. Let’s discuss the real matter."

Latina set the already thoroughly crumpled confession back on the table, then pulled out another document from somewhere. It was the detailed report on this attack against Liya and the Campbell ducal estate, down to the smallest point. At a glance it was clearly firsthand intelligence, obviously something she had pried out of Pink Bear.

"Regarding the Salvation Society’s operation this time, what does the Archbishop think?" Latina asked, placing the two different documents side by side.

"On the surface, it looks like nothing more than a routine attack. The objective was to assassinate Her Highness the Saintess. The ducal estate was merely part of the process of achieving that."

Archbishop Canterbury’s hand paused slightly on his beard. He bent over and read carefully before thinking aloud.

"But that is obviously only the surface layer. At a deeper level... this war between the Empire and the Kingdom has likely already involved the Salvation Society."

"Exactly. Right now part of the continent’s attention has been drawn to the ownerless lands in the Abyss, so this war actually isn’t receiving the level of attention a war between nations ought to. That gives the Salvation Society’s rats a great deal of room to operate."

Latina lowered her eyes. More than twenty years ago, the reason she had been shoved into becoming Saintess at all was because her predecessor, that pitiful woman who had only just become Saintess a few months earlier, had died in a beast tide stirred up by the Salvation Society... and that memory only made her angrier.

"Colluding with the Salvation Society—even if it’s the Kingdom, they must give an explanation for that," Archbishop Canterbury said.

"But we have no evidence."

Latina said, "If we make accusations without evidence, they’ll only turn around and bite us back, saying we interfered in the Kingdom’s internal affairs and favored the Empire."

After being Saintess for so many years, she was already thoroughly familiar with how every nation played this game. Unless they seized the Kingdom by the tail, it would absolutely never admit anything.

That old thing who had ruled the Kingdom for decades might not amount to much in strength, but his skin was absolutely thick enough. At least in that respect, he was comparable to a Crowned One, already at the level of being immune to all laws.

"Favoring the Empire..."

Archbishop Canterbury glanced at Liya nearby, and his cheek twitched.

Two successive Saintesses had run to Belrand every other moment. Even if nothing looked wrong on the surface... this matter of favoritism might genuinely be real.

"So then, Your High—Latina, what do you intend to do next?"

Archbishop Canterbury waited calmly. He understood the temperament of this former Saintess. More than twenty years of hiding her true nature without ever letting it show had long since taught her to think first and act second. If she had come to find him, she must already have something in mind.

"What instructions has His Holiness the Pope given?" Latina asked.

"His Holiness has given no instructions at all regarding the Salvation Society."

Archbishop Canterbury shook his head. "He only told me to escort Her Highness the Saintess back to the Holy City as soon as possible."

"His Holiness really can sit still."

"Perhaps everything remains within His Holiness’s control?"

"If everything were within his control, then the Salvation Society shouldn’t exist in this world."

"...Best not say more, best not say more..."

Archbishop Canterbury forced a laugh and brushed past the subject.

Latina glanced at him and said,

"Since His Holiness won’t move, and the Salvation Society won’t move, then naturally I can’t move either."

"Hm?"

Archbishop Canterbury froze for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Wait."

"Wait?"

"Wait for the Salvation Society to show its own fox tail," Latina said.

"Meeting all changes with constancy? It is steady enough. But the Salvation Society has managed to survive this long under the joint suppression of us and every other major force. They won’t reveal a flaw so easily."

"That’s why someone has to force them."

"Force them? How?"

Archbishop Canterbury became even more confused.

"Under normal circumstances, these rats hiding in the dark world really are very difficult to deal with. But right now they’re relying on the Kingdom as a great tree to shelter under. So as long as the Kingdom gets anxious, they’ll naturally get anxious too. And once they get anxious... they’ll definitely expose a weakness."

Latina lifted a finger and tapped lightly on the table. Watching the ripples spread across the water in her cup, she smiled.

"Has the Archbishop been very busy these last few days?"

"...I have been rather busy. The new cathedral is almost finished, so I’ve had to watch it personally. On top of that, there’s the recent work of purging internal collaborators. I haven’t seen sunlight in a very long time."

Archbishop Canterbury frowned, unable to understand why Latina had suddenly asked.

"No wonder. Your understanding of Belrand is still stuck on the news from a few days ago. You don’t even know what the top headline is now."

As if already prepared, Latina took out a newspaper and placed it before Archbishop Canterbury. He accepted it with a doubtful look and swept his eyes over it—

Then his pupils suddenly contracted.

"This... this is true?"

Archbishop Canterbury’s hand trembled slightly. He even yanked out one of his own beard hairs, which showed just how shocked he was.

"Do I have any need to lie to you, Archbishop?"

Latina sipped her tea at ease.

"If you don’t believe it, why not go see it for yourself?"

Without another word, Archbishop Canterbury shot out of the cathedral.

Outside, the sunlight was just right—bright enough to be almost blinding. Archbishop Canterbury narrowed his eyes. Once they adjusted to the light, he looked out from the highest point of Belrand Cathedral into the distance.

In order to bestow the Goddess’s grace on more people, and also to establish a different district from that of the old cathedral, this cathedral had not been built in the central core of Belrand. It could even be called somewhat remote.

Yet even so, Archbishop Canterbury saw it at ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) a glance: the black dragon winding through the broad avenue at the very heart of Belrand.

A black dragon formed by an enormous number of soldiers.

It was an army.

Its military bearing was solemn, its steps perfectly aligned, its drums thunderous, its battle flags blotting out the sky.

Every soldier in that army had clearly undergone harsh training. Such a vast force moved forward like a single whole. When all those feet struck the ground at once, Archbishop Canterbury could almost feel the earth trembling even from this great distance.

And this was still an elite army. More than that, this could be seen from more than just the posture of the march. Under the sunlight, Archbishop Canterbury could see with absolute clarity that every single soldier in that army was wearing black heavy armor.

The black heavy armor covered their entire bodies. Even the soldiers’ faces could not be seen, but that only made the oppressive force stronger. As the army advanced in orderly formation down the avenue, it was like a heavy storm cloud rolling forward. Those ordinary people who had originally come in excitement to watch all turned pale at once in that murderous atmosphere.

And the number of this army was—

Archbishop Canterbury’s gaze dropped back to the newspaper.

"His Grace Oranriel, Regent of the Empire, together with Duke Campbell, have jointly issued a call for the Empire’s brave men to enlist and support the imperial front lines. In response to the call of the two dukes, heroes answered from all directions, and within three days an army of one hundred thousand was raised..."

One hundred thousand!

Canterbury’s vision went black.

Had he arrived in some parallel world? Since when had assembling an army become so easy?

Soldiers, military provisions, logistics, weapons, accompanying military mages, large-scale magic-guided weapons... which one of those did not require an immeasurable amount of effort to coordinate? Which one of them did not require enormous amounts of time?

What was war fought with? It was fought with national strength. And what was national strength? This was national strength.

But if it was called national strength, how could these things possibly be gathered so easily?

Three days? In three days, forget one hundred thousand—you couldn’t even scrape together ten thousand... no, not even one thousand street thugs!

Let alone an obviously well-trained elite force clad entirely in heavy armor.

An elite force capable of changing the tide of the battlefield!

"Well?"

At some point Latina had come to stand beside Archbishop Canterbury. Smiling, she asked,

"What do you think?"

"Inconceivable."

The Archbishop looked farther into the distance. At the front of that army, Muen Campbell, son of Duke Campbell, sat astride a magnificent white horse. Dressed in splendid formal wear and surrounded by more than ten Royal Knights, he cut a majestic figure as he rode straight down the center of the avenue.

As he rode, he waved to the watching crowd at the roadside. Whether it was because he looked too handsome dressed like that, or because the one hundred thousand heavily armored soldiers behind him were simply too terrifying, quite a few young girls actually fainted on the spot, causing several bursts of commotion.

"How exactly was this done?"

The distance was too great, and there were clearly no weak mages accompanying the army, disturbing the aura in that entire area. Archbishop Canterbury could not use direct perception.

But no matter how he tried to confirm it by other means, the black dragon before his eyes was unquestionably a terrifying army.

"Couldn’t it simply be that they really did raise an army of one hundred thousand?" Latina said with a smile.

"Nonsense."

For once, Archbishop Canterbury used a word that was not particularly refined.

"If the Empire could really scrape together one hundred thousand heavily armored soldiers in three days, then I think there’d be no point in the Kingdom fighting at all. They might as well drop to their knees now and beg for mercy while clinging to the Empire’s leg. At least then they might get a slightly better ending."

"How it was done, Archbishop, you’ll know once you get a closer look later. But since you asked that, I’m a bit relieved now."

"Relieved?"

"Yes."

Latina watched the army recede into the distance, and a sly light suddenly flashed through her eyes.

"If even the Archbishop can’t guess how this was done, then I imagine the idiots in the Kingdom... definitely won’t be able to guess either."