Chapter 289
Chapter 289
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (48)
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****
Clack clack, jolt! Clack rattle! Clack clack—
The carriage rattling along diligently, and the coachman glancing back with a face full of utter mortification.
Sitting quietly like this, all sorts of thoughts came flooding in.
‘The first thing that impressed me when I entered the imperial capital was probably how well they’d paved the roads.’
The empire’s roads, built to last at least a hundred years, were all cracked and melted now, beyond even the imperial family’s finest carriage handling the bumps.
The picturesque mansions had turned into piles of black ash, scattering into the air with the smell of burning flesh. Along with them, a ton of the empire’s famous high nobles had died gruesome deaths, so cleaning up this mess wouldn’t be easy anytime soon. Looking around like this, it felt like the whole world had ended, but in the end, it was a disaster confined to the capital. Right outside the capital, nobles who’d lost their family heads and retainers overnight would rise up like wildfire, railing against the emperor’s failings.
‘If the empire still had its old power, the chaos would settle quickly and naturally, and everyone would forget about it in no time, like nothing happened. But not anymore.’
The empire was in for a long stretch of turmoil. Maybe even something close to a dark age, leading into other kinds of chaos.
Knock knock knock.
“Saint.”
“...”
Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock.
“Saint. It’s me, Gregorius. Saint?”
“...”
From earlier, someone had been calling from outside, but Professor dove deeper into his own heavy, tormented thoughts, his face growing more grave. Ah, he couldn’t hear a thing. Lost in the empire’s chaos and its grim future, nothing reached him. Can’t hear, can’t hear, can’t hear—
With no response from me, the footsteps faded away toward the front of the carriage.
‘Phew. Persistent bastard.’
The moment he’d left the mansion with the group and boarded the carriage, Gregorius—who’d apparently been waiting out front—had come sprinting up and stuck to the side.
Finally, with Gregorius gone after relentlessly and rhythmically knocking without tiring, Professor let out a sigh of relief, assuming he’d given up.
“Hey, coachman. The saint isn’t feeling well and seems to have fallen asleep, so we’ll take care of him from here.”
“B-but Duke Glen specifically told me to bring him personally...”
“Ahem. Holy men have their own holy vehicles. By the grace of the Light, a palanquin fit for His Holiness survived that horrific inferno. It’ll be more comfortable for the saint to follow the rites of Radiance, so head back now.”
Damn it all.
Bang! Crash clang!
Professor kicked open the door like it might shatter and leaped out at the conversation between Gregorius and the coachman a short distance away.
“I was lost in thought and couldn’t respond right away, Brother Gregorius.”
A palanquin for His Holiness meant that one. The kind used in church events where high priests pass through crowds, shaking hands and greeting followers, made for elderly clerics who could barely walk.
A parade float for old, sickly priests, tall enough that even in a thick throng, everyone could get a clear view of the rider.
Better to go on my own two feet than pretend not to notice and get loaded onto that thing.
“Saint! You’re safe!”
“Well, you saw me moving fine just a few hours ago, so...”
“Even so, you didn’t answer no matter how much I called. I thought you’d come down with divine fever from grief! Makes sense, though—your comrades, like brothers who endured hardships back-to-back with you, have gone off down a path free of Lo Haram’s grace. I, Gregorius, can’t even fathom Your Holiness’s sorrow.”
Divine fever? What am I, a shaman?
Professor figured out why Gregorius had hesitated so much when bringing up Aldrich, and upon seeing the massive palanquin he’d actually brought, he instinctively stepped back.
‘This guy’s hopeless.’
Gregorius, captain of the Radiant Holy Knights.
The one who’d cut off my arm at the hero conference, saying I reeked of mutant.
Lo Haram’s diehard zealot who’d growled that he couldn’t trust me until he saw for himself, even after the archbishop officially recognized me as the church’s hero.
And the man who’d witnessed me impaled on the temple spire like a martyr on a cross amid the flames, knelt before the gathered faithful, shed tears like a waterfall, begged forgiveness for his past rudeness, and personally pulled me down.
“...Gregorius. Did you have to stop the carriage right here? Here of all places?”
“Yes! We must show the lost faithful that the Light’s will has reached this place, that those mired in the swamp still have something to cling to!”
“...Coachman?”
“W-well... the road ahead is so damaged a carriage can’t pass... You should get off here, but...”
“Ha ha ha ha! Of course, that’s a secondary reason! Come, Saint! The faithful await your Radiance!”
Lucilla’s carriage had stopped ahead first, and she was carefully navigating the building rubble with Mutoh’s guidance.
The group’s carriages pulling up one by one behind mine.
And then.
“Rathura, Lo-Haram!”
“Rathura!!!!!! Lo-Haram!!!!”
“Rathura!!!!!! Lo-Haram!!!!”
“Rathura!!!!!! Lo-Haram!!!!”
“Let there be Light! Even if the heavens fall, there’s a hole to rise through!”
“Sniff... Rathura... Rathura!”
“Ahh, O Light. Guiding Light...”
“Lo Haram has descended as a comet striking the red star, borrowing the hand of His instrument!”
“Rathura! Rathura!”
“Do not close your eyes though the darkness be deep! The path is always there, and as long as the light shines upon it from above! Pray, advance, and never give up! Our lives shall be the lanterns for others!”
“Waaaaaaaaah!”
And... a strangely familiar Radiant temple with its pointed spire, packed full out front... with faithful.
The carriage had stopped right in front of the temple where my bloodstains from when I was still pinned up remained vivid.
My blood must be dense or something—didn’t wash away even in the rain.
“Heh heh heh heh. Saint. What a splendid sight, isn’t it? Just like the archbishop’s new policies—no matter rank, origin, or worldly status, all crying out for the Light.”
“Ah, yes...”
Well... maybe. From strict butlers who’d whip out the guestbook and say “State your business” even if an assassin dropped in, to mustachioed middle-aged nobles who embodied “this is dignity.”
A motley crew of all sorts gathered, shedding fervent tears and chanting “Rathura!!!!” It left a deep impression, alright... but kinda scary.
“Brother Palaus spreading the doctrine is always so moving. Remarkable talent.”
“Definitely... some talent.”
I’d bet my bottom dollar he was a pro at this. Stick him in some backwater village for three days, and he’d turn the whole place into Radiant zealots.
Watching that fervent crowd, I got why they were so desperate to take me along.
“Stabilizing public sentiment... yeah, nothing beats religion when you’ve got no foundation.”
Like I said before, for the civilians in the capital right now, it was like “Whoa, head’s spinning. Hmm...” staggering, closing their eyes for a second, then opening them to hell smack in the middle.
Had to be a nightmare, too vivid and unbreakable no matter what they did. People drowning grab anything solid, and in the capital with nothing left, only two things looked solid enough to cling to.
The covenantor who resolved this mess and the new emperor.
And the Radiant temple, softly glowing in a beam of sunlight piercing the storm clouds, as if Lo Haram was paying special attention.
Until they could announce how to restore order and the empire’s future, religion was the tool to soothe and placate the masses.
“...No wonder they parked right in front of the temple.”
Duke Glen. Head of the imperial scholars’ group “Hall of Reason.”
Arguing down mages’ personal “understandings” to drill in the world’s laws, smashing deviant “enlightenments” and shattering magic—their leader was basically the ultimate verbal fighter across all three worlds. With eloquence like that, his political savvy must be top-notch.
If he’d wanted the roads cleared, he could’ve. He left them like this on purpose to drop me here.
Glancing back, the rest of the group was slipping through quieter alleys under coachmen’s guidance, unlike my oblivious driver pretending not to see.
“Sigh. Knowing full well, I still gotta play along...”
I could just hop rooftops and be gone, but.
Seeing folks on their knees before priests, faces desperate like they’d scream if they didn’t pray at least...
Shaking off Gregorius’s clingy gaze like shedding slime, Professor stepped into the packed crowd with no room to spare.
“Coming through~”
“Ugh, who’s interrupting sacred mass... H-heek!”
“Yes, yes. Coming through, excuse me~”
“Ow, hey! The priest is speaking right now... Hiiik!”
Each time the head-and-a-half-taller-than-average Professor squeezed past, people who’d glared sharply at whoever disrupted their religious fervor would freeze in awe.
“It’s the Professor.”
“It’s the saint.”
“I heard he died?”
“I saw it with my own eyes. His sublime form hung on that spire! Proof of blood and sacrifice!”
“He died... but he’s returned!”
“He who completed his holy mission and was embraced by the Light has come back!”
“Back to our side! To lead us! To shine upon the empire lost in dark clouds!”
Murmur murmur, whisper whisper!
The whispers spread like waves through the crowd as more people pushed past. Well, yeah—after seeing me strung up like autumn pollack on the temple roof, it’d be weirder to think I was dead.
Careful as walking on thin ice lest he break someone’s limbs, Professor emerged from the throng and gave a small nod to the priest on the makeshift platform before stepping beside him.
“Ooh, oooh. Rathura, O Saint! You’ve returned safely!”
“Uh, Brother... Palaus?”
“Yes! Yes!!! I am Palaus, missionary priest of the Light, Your Holiness! Come up! The lost souls await the Light’s good word!”
“I’m not used to this sort of thing, so I was just going to give a quick greeting and leave...”
“As you wish! Oh, and if you could spare a moment afterward? The archbishop ordered all priests to connect communications the instant we make contact with you...”
Ah, Archbishop Norman. That guy was around too.
I nodded, and the priest backed off the platform with teary eyes.
The priest who’d just been leading the crowd with a voice rivaling an Austrian mustachioed agitator turned into a lovestruck girl at my few words, sweeping his robe hem across the floor to offer me the spot...
‘Starting to really feel my influence in this arena. Kinda scary getting used to it.’
If Hide would’ve cackled from inside and teased me, it might’ve lightened the mood. But nope, he wasn’t waking up for some reason.
...What can you do. Play the madman, shut my eyes tight, and go for it.
As I stepped onto the platform, the noisy crowd fell utterly silent, like they’d rehearsed it.
Or less “silent” and more... snorting huffs, panting, like they were gritting their teeth to hold back from lunging.
Really, I just planned to show my face and step down.
“Rathura. Brothers and sisters of the empire.”
Swoooosh—
Just opening my mouth had them flinching like I was an illusion, hands over mouths, rubbing eyes.
“By the Light’s grace, unworthy vessel bestowed the title of saint. I am Saint Professor.”
No grand passion, no touching phrases, no scriptural quotes. Just a low, dry greeting.
.
.
.
.
.
Thud.
Someone’s legs gave out at those words, collapsing.
“WAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”
“It’s him! He saw me!”
“Ahh, Saint! Brother! My brother who shared faith over blood!”
The temple square turned into a festival of Light-praise.
Praying, weeping, some hugging strangers and yelling “Thanks for living, you did great! Awesome job! So glad you’re alive!”
“...Can I go down now?”
“Sniff, guh, kuh... Rathura, O Light, Rathura... guh, kuh, huh... ahhh...”
“...Brother Palaus?”
Even trying to rein it in, the missionary priest beside me had lost it too.
‘...Wish he hadn’t amped this up.’
Professor sighed as the drizzle stopped and a halo descended through parted clouds like a painting, settling behind him.
Fitting for a light god. Nailed the lighting.
Looked like getting to Gai Nax would take a while.
****
Meanwhile, while Professor was stuck at the temple square’s saint-praise frenzy, lagging behind.
“This way, Lady Aedran.”
“Um... where are we headed, exactly?”
“To the imperial palace... well, its ruins. The holy city has some buildings that survived somewhat, but all of Old Ampria is utterly flattened—no intact structures anywhere. Ironically, the palace ruins collapsed so neatly from pillars to foundation that they’re the tidiest spot, so they’ve pitched tents and gathered there.”
Lucilla walked along a clean path amid collapsed buildings, as if prepared in advance.
What in the world was going on.
‘...Marriage? Me?’
So much had happened at once, and exhausted near death, seeing the group’s faces had flooded her with relief and fatigue, knocking her out cold.
While she’d slept obliviously, things had progressed without her.
‘...Calm down, Lucilla. It was just the coronation—they never mentioned my name. I haven’t even talked to that Gai Nax guy for 30 minutes, we know nothing about each other, and with the capital like this, a wedding? Not yet. No, definitely not!’
As a noble daughter, she hadn’t been blind to the word “marriage.” If anything, she’d pondered it dozens of times more than a girl her age from an ordinary family.
Marriage linked houses, and in noble society where not even spit from their mouths was trustworthy, it was one of the strongest deterrents—a powerful brand of “betray even blood? Utterly unreliable scum.”
She’d constantly calculated when, how, with whom, in what form.
Even with that weird “Teldrat’s suitor” rumor, she’d secretly eyed noblemen on this trip, vaguely imagining finding a match.
Calculation was her strong suit.
‘Suuuuck—exhale. Suuuuck—exhale! Good. Lucilla. Think one by one. Rationally, nobly. Gai Nax. Plenty of merits, but risks too. Like always. Scrutinize finances, relatives, power, everything, carefully...’
Short deep breaths calming her, Lucilla sharpened her merchant-honed judgment and began assessing Gai Nax.
Former first imperial prince. Known as domineering. Legitimate heir. Militarily gifted... uh... manly looks, excellent knight himself, but his political ties... considering his key role in the upcoming chaotic capital—
Whoosh!
[Fate’s whims? I’m sick to death of being tossed by them.]
“Eek?!”
“Yes? Lady Aedran, did you call?”
“N-no. Just tripped...”
Gai Nax’s image seeped in amid the public info. Thick robe hood up, cracked, gruff voice self-mocking.
‘Focus, focus! Daydreaming during calculations? Marriage is reality! Ugh... so... his military prowess means ties to warlord counts, private armies, knightly houses, diplomatic skills—’
Whoosh!
[I don’t hate it—I’m afraid.]
[The man before Lady Aedran’s eyes is First Prince Gai Nax. Mid-thirties. Possesses a tyrant’s qualities, renowned as an excellent knight.]
[Now with eyes open, my reflection is just a child who fell crying in the palace gardens before collapsing from fever.]
“Eep?”
W-weird, can’t concentrate. Why?
Trying to refocus on calculations, but “Gai Nax” pricked her heart like a needle—each recall went pop! with his low voice, gloomy face.
[Having learned what it means to lose one’s way, it’s unfamiliar and painful. But doesn’t everyone endure it?]
[Lady... how can you stay so composed amid this horror?]
[I still have no intention of becoming emperor. From your view... is that alright, Lady Lucilla?]
“Auugh... uwaaaah...”
The more she tried to escape, the more memories chained up, and Lucilla cupped her cheeks with both hands.
[Merchant, huh... then I’ll pay the price.]
Pay the price.
Pay the price.
Pay the price.
Pay the price...
‘Price? What price? With what? To me? From Gai Nax?’
Tormented by questions about his own life, diminished.
Turning from her toward the burning city. Toward the people. Broad, manly back.
Safehouse in the secret passage. Even through the small vent window, the silver wave clear, and from afar, his expression somehow visible, shaking off his sword with relief.
‘W-what do I do. What do I do... what!’
Aura embodied the soul, they said.
Recalling that silver aura gleaming like solid metal and Gai Nax’s deep eyes brought back her first silver coin at five—cold, hard, melting warmly in her palm, ecstatic feel.
Swear to god, first time feeling this for someone, not money.
Yeah, couldn’t calculate. Among men she’d met, most unique and trustworthy was Professor—even him she’d secretly priced with impudent “how much... maybe?” fantasy. But this man... impossible to price.
Live together 50 years, maybe th—
Thud!
“Ow! Lady Aedran! See, you’re still unwell...”
“No! I’m fine! Totally! Don’t look back, please!”
Startled by the soap-bubble thought, Lucilla tripped, then forehead to cold ground in her sprawl, focusing on breathing.
“...You said Mutoh, right.”
“Uh... y-yes. Can I look now?”
“Absolutely not. We’re heading to the palace ruins, right?”
“That’s right.”
“We’ll meet Gai Nax, get dressed, then enter the coronation.”
“Yes. His Highness said several times he must confirm Lady Aedran’s safety himse—”
“Hmph!”
“...lf, that it’d be best to see and greet him quickly...”
“Whew, whew. O-okay. First, let’s switch things up. You said surviving maids and servants from the servant city are gathered at the palace ruins? Some nobles’ dressers among them?”
“Yes.... As long as it’s ready before the coronation, there’s still time...”
“No! No time! Head there first, now!”
“Uh.... But...”
Mutoh agonized between his father’s icy commands, the soon-to-be-emperor’s calm but trembling-hiding orders, and the lady’s desperate plea behind him, guessing her fall.
Having served his father—empire’s top trash-talker, vile, expert in abuse and beatings—his instincts were razor-sharp. Weighing those three was easy.
Duke Glen = vassal of soon-to-be emperor.
Soon-to-be emperor = seriously, majorly into this lady.
Lady = unlike oblivious must-see-now emperor-to-be, has enough sense to primp first.
Body servant... but known status drew pretty maids’ attention, so he was versed in this.
Usually, the sane one leads the relationship.
.
.
.
.
Glen < Emperor (real) < Lady
Ding ding ding ding—!
“...Lady Aedran? For dress or accessories—what style do you prefer for hair and makeup?”
“...Let’s talk on the way. Gonna... take some time.”
Mutoh, heir to Duke Glen’s house and body servant for 15 years, figured lining up with the next empire’s power player wasn’t bad.
****