Chapter 353
Chapter 353
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Saint and Completer (9)
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Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“The late king’s death was nothing like the rumors circulating.”
“Really? I heard he couldn’t bear to witness the kingdom’s fall and, true to form as the Knight King, turned the battlefield into his own grave...”
“Absurd lies. It was the schemes of other nobles trying to strip Lordric of all influence by tarnishing the royal family’s honor.”
“Even after the enemy’s encirclement tightened around the main assault force, the allied army launched a full offensive against Lordric’s objections. His Majesty knew this blunder would lead to Lordric’s downfall, yet he personally led the charge to make it succeed somehow. As you know, we are knights sworn to serve the king—”
“Ah. The king’s personal command. Knights fighting alongside the king do unleash power beyond their limits, don’t they.”
“...Yes. Even Castle Knights and Lordric knights like us surviving and returning alive is all thanks to His Majesty’s resolve. The Lordric royal line has always been that way. More knightly than any knight, they never turned their backs on protecting the weak, carrying courage in their hearts. Though young Your Highness is confused now, I know he’ll soon recover and rise without doubt.”
“Yes, yes. I’m sure he will. Of course, I thought the same.”
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
I walked the vast corridors of the royal palace, letting Charlotte’s praise of the king slide past my ears.
Well, sure, given time, young Theod IV might grow into such a king. He could lose interest in his toys, secretly marvel at the soft whiskers sprouting on his chin, let his teenage hormones turn his brain to mush while battered by the world’s storms... He might turn into a somewhat decent king.
But—
‘We need a king with the guts to splash wine in those noble bastards’ faces right now in the command room, not some saintly ruler who’ll emerge in 10 or 20 years. Not some pint-sized brat who chases away his men piling up corpses daily to protect him, whining about the smell of blood. We need a king who’ll scream obscenities right into the ears of those damned spoon-licking loyalists!’
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.
.
If there isn’t one, we’ll have to make one.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The palace wasn’t flashy but carried a dignified elegance. Following Idrasil, I thought that if the lights hadn’t gone out and dust hadn’t piled up, it might have been quite impressive.
‘A neglected palace. The late king and the first and second princes are dead. So...’
“What is the queen doing now?”
...Halt.
Remembering how talk of the queen had been conspicuously absent, I asked. Charlotte’s steps froze mid-stride.
“...Having lost her husband and two sons, how great her grief must be. No woman could endure such a shock.”
“Has she collapsed?”
“She seems unable to accept reality. She’s trapped in past memories, talking to empty air for hours on end, then suddenly screaming as if tortured. She calms a bit when with Your Highness.”
“...No wonder the kid’s holed up in his room.”
Family all dead. Kingdom fallen. Survivors staring at him, pleading, ‘You’re all we have left! You have to do something!’ And all he hears amid the confusion is his mad mother’s screams. For a young prince raised in the warmth of family, loyal guards, and doting servants, it was more than enough to shatter his mind.
Charlotte gazed briefly at the dust-covered throne room and empty throne before her, then turned to me with eyes brimming with sorrow, regret, and seething anger.
“Your Highness... is like a vessel on the verge of breaking. The world crushed him before he was ready to face it. Though my own failings have forced me to beg this of you... please, treat him not as a shattered soul but as the saint who heals the people’s wounds. This is a plea from a comrade-in-arms, Lordric’s commander, and a knight with little left to protect.”
“Treat him as a saint. ‘As the saint’... Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”
At my firm reply, Charlotte looked relieved and turned a dusty ornament behind the throne.
Creak.
Grind, grrrrind—
The sound of ancient mechanisms turning. Traces of magic I hadn’t sensed before, mixed with stone grinding.
“Your Highness is inside here.”
Before the path to the Lordric palace’s sanctuary, I grabbed Charlotte’s shoulder as she moved to guide me, just as before.
“Sir Charlotte de Agate. You just beseeched me as commander, knight, and comrade. So let me make one request in return. As the Light Support Force commander and the Savior Saint, and as a former comrade who once shared faith with you.”
“...Speak.”
“No matter what I do to Theod IV inside there, don’t lift a finger.”
“...No matter what?”
“Yes. ‘No matter what.’ Promise me that, or I can’t help Lordric.”
Don’t interfere, no matter what happens to the king.
Her orange eyes, filled with loss and stubbornness, pierced me like a knight’s vow defied.
‘Social phobia, panic disorder, severe hemophobia bad enough to reject even his few remaining protectors. Whatever it is, soft words won’t cut it once symptoms erupt beyond self-control.’
Once labeled a ‘disorder,’ it’s beyond personal will, kind words, or a few hours of counseling. I’d learned from experience that mental trauma doesn’t heal easily or shake off.
‘But coddling and coaxing won’t fix it either.’
Some wounds heal naturally if left alone, but others fester, eating away at surrounding flesh.
And the one method I knew, verified on a patient named ‘Professor’—
‘Cut it out, shatter it, crush it. A chick can’t hatch without breaking the egg.’
And from experience, that process involves severe shock and pain.
As a saint. I planned to honor her request faithfully.
Just as I’d always acted as a saint, strictly by ‘Saint Professor’s’ principles, I would destroy it.
Theod IV would either break the shell and emerge into the world or shatter beyond repair. One or the other.
One hand on his sword hilt, the other on the secret door’s lever, Charlotte hesitated, then sighed in frustrated conflict.
“...I hope I’m not tested.”
“I asked you to endure the test.”
“You’ve always been so reckless.”
“That just crossed the line into ‘knows Professor’ territory? Welcome to our circle, Charlotte. You’ve faced the saint’s horrific truth the world doesn’t know.”
“...A ‘knows Professor’ club. Not the most appealing ring to it.”
“Ooh. Already at the ‘understanding Ottoman’ stage.”
From behind as we descended the dark stairs came the grumbling complaint of Lordric’s First Knight.
****
Clang!
“Knight of the King, Charlotte de Agate, and the Light’s Saint Professor request an audience with Your Highness.”
“I’m sorry, Sir Agate. His Highness says he doesn’t wish to see anyone right now.”
“...Knight Rendus, Knight Valkurd. Do you think I’d return here forgetting His Highness’s orders? Step aside. I have urgent words for him.”
“No, Sir Agate. We are the king’s knights, and that means his command defines our lives.”
“Knight Valkurd!”
“With Lordric’s flag fallen to the ground, the moment even his knights defy the king’s order is when the Lordric royal line truly ends! I respect you, but if you approach further, we’ll consider it a threat to His Highness!”
Shing!
Even Charlotte’s earnest persuasion didn’t budge them. The knight drew the spear from his back, blocking our path.
Right. I’d momentarily forgotten, traveling with a smart, strategically savvy, reasonable knight like Charlotte. That’s what knights are: stubborn, arrogant blockheads who wield their bullheadedness with force.
As Charlotte stepped back from the knight’s harsh reaction, I placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, as if asking permission.
“Charlotte? Remember our promise...?”
“...I hope you remember my request too.”
“Ah, that. As a saint. Yeah, I remember clearly.”
Wow, top A-rank hero units have sharp insight. Pinpointing exactly what’s needed right now.
As a saint. Yeah, saintly it is.
“Hahaha! Latura, brothers! I’ve come with good~ news. I’m the Light’s Saint, Professor.”
Even as Charlotte stepped back and I advanced, the knights’ spear tips showed no sign of yielding.
“We’ve heard much. You’ve performed many miracles, granting sacraments to countless masses.”
“Forgive our rudeness. Even if Roharam himself descended instead of a saint, we won’t defy our orders to guard this place.”
“Hahahaha! I see. I’ve noted your brothers’ steadfast loyalty to His Highness. It’s fine, all good. Isn’t a saint’s role to resolve conflicts and spread peace? I’m sure I can find a solution here that satisfies everyone gathered. Hahahahaha—”
“...Thank you for understanding. I don’t fail to grasp Sir Agate’s heart ei—”
Pow!
“—Hahaha! Latura, brother.”
Before the knight could finish, the saint’s fist, still in prayer position, slammed into his mouth. A near-perfect ambush. As the knight slid down the narrow passage wall, the other knight’s brows twisted in fury.
“What is this outrage! Does the Light so despise the Lordric royal house!”
“Hahaha, what harsh words. Isn’t this a way that honors everyone’s will? You two uphold the king’s orders to the end. We just put you to sleep briefly and see His Highness. Perfect for both sides, right? Hahahahaha.”
“Y-You! Sir Agate! I’ll hold here somehow—call the outer knights! The Light’s Saint is attacking His Highness!”
“Ahem! F-Fine weather today...”
“...Sir Agate?”
While Knight Valkurd reeled from Charlotte’s uncharacteristic nonsense—something he’d surely never witnessed—the saint, far beyond master knight level, had already closed in, arm around his shoulders.
Pat pat.
“Brother. Relax. It won’t take long.”
“Your Highness!!!! Get away! He’s—”
Crack!!
Even an aura-protected knight’s neck couldn’t withstand that hydraulic force. Veins bulged on the saint’s arm wrapped around the knight’s neck, his laughing face unchanging. The knight, thinking only of the king’s safety to the last, tumbled into the cold secret passage.
Clank—thud!
Charlotte’s face paled, repeating to herself that this too was for the king.
“I heard you became a cleric...”
“Hm? Oh, right. To you, Charlotte, I’m still the frail guy from Turan, huh? Hahaha. Turns out the saint class demands a lot physically. Ah, they’re just knocked out, so don’t worry. I’m the saint, after all! If a saint can’t control his strength, how could he claim the title anywhere?”
“A s-saint, controlling his s-strength... um...”
Charlotte wanted to argue against Professor’s barely coherent words but held back. Her old comrade before her was the world-renowned saint, acclaimed by Light faithful and other denominations alike as this era’s greatest cleric. If he said so, it must be true. Unlike ignorant knights’ assumptions, Light clerics apparently trained their bodies rigorously.
“...The Light Support Force will be more helpful than I thought.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Whoops, blood splatter. His Highness fears blood, so let’s wipe this off before entering. Hmm. Can’t use my clothes... Any cloth handy...? Aha!”
Riiiip! Gruuunt, riiiip!
Clink clank—
“...”
Watching Professor tear off the fallen knight’s armor and rip out his undergarment with bare hands, Charlotte quietly placed her hand on her sword hilt.
‘The test... putting me to the test... ugh...’
Gazing at Professor’s humming back as he wiped the blood and headed for the door, Charlotte decided to lower her ‘if necessary’ threshold considerably.
Click!
“Gaaah! D-Don’t come! Stay back!!!”
Crash! Thud! Whoosh, clatter!
The fragile boy’s voice rang out the instant Professor opened the door. Followed by dishes, candelabras, books flying at us in desperation.
“Your Highness, the Knights—”
“Y-You’ve come to kill me! After my father and brothers, now my knights and people—and finally me and my mother! Gyaaah! Begone! Begone! Gyaaaaah!”
“...Knight Charlotte de Agate and the Light’s Saint Professor come to pay respects to Your Highness.”
The outside noise must have agitated him. His unchanged state from last time made Charlotte swallow a groan as she knelt.
“Oh dear, such a temper. I’m Professor from the Light. That... due to religious reasons, I can’t serve anyone but Roharam, so... may I have your name?”
Professor brushed past her—without even showing respect to the king—and asked the boy directly.
“Professor! This is the royal presence! Show proper courtesy—”
“No, I know it’s the royal presence, but he’s calling me an assassin, right? If Lordric’s king personally brands me his killer, ignoring that would be rude. Come on, Your Majesty. Ready? I am.”
“D-Don’t come! Charlotte! Keep this madman away!”
“You don’t want me near? Fair, but as king, hurling things to smash isn’t ideal. Aha! You threw this for me to use?”
Ignoring the king’s screams and Charlotte’s scolding amid the chaos, Professor kicked up a usable candelabrum from the scattered items.
“P-Professor! Stop! Stop now!!”
“—Hngh!”
—Whoosh!
And hurled it full force at the king’s face.
Clang!!
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.
.
Ting. Tiding, ting—
The shattered bronze candelabrum rolled across the stone floor.
“Huff, huff, isn’t that, too much!”
The knight who’d barely leaped in to block it panted heavily.
“Hic, hic, sob! B-Blood, blood!”
The terrified young king frantically wiped blood from a shard-grazed cheek. And—
“Hey, why block it? It was the king’s command.”
The saint casually picked up another item to throw.
“Didn’t you hear? Theod IV clearly said, ‘Y-You’ve come to kill me!’ If the king says so, it is so. Ah, this one’s good.”
“You told me not to falter in testing. No second chances. Next attack, I respond as the king’s knight.”
“Man... That’s why I made you promise outside.”
“Didn’t you say His Highness isn’t in his right mind! You’re forcing a man with broken legs to run on two feet!”
Fwoosh!
“Well, well. Aura? Confident? I soloed Edeorna a few months back, remember? That white bastard.”
“...Knights don’t draw swords after calculating victory!”
Fwoom!
Charlotte’s sword and armor blazed with dawn-like aura, while white holy flames entwined Professor’s opposing fist.
Rumble rumble—
Rustle, rustle—
The clash of near-apex auras shook the sanctuary like an earthquake. In the tense standoff, as Professor raised his wooden bowl and Charlotte’s blade aimed for his throat—
“I-I g-grant au-au-audience!!!!”
Theod IV’s voice echoed through the sanctuary, tears, snot, and drool dripping from the auras’ aftermath.
“I-I was mis-mistaken! Y-You’re a s-saint! Not an assassin—a saint! The Light’s Saint Professor, here on divine purpose—sh-show proper respects and pay homage to your king!”
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.
“U-Uuuugh...”
Shoulders trembling like aspen leaves. Puffy eyes from prior crying. The boy king, Theod IV, clung desperately to Charlotte’s back.
“...If Your Highness says so.”
The saint who’d shaken the palace moments ago instantly withdrew his power at the king’s words, carefully set down the bowl, and clasped his hands.
“Thank you for granting this audience, Your Highness Theod IV. I am Professor, the Light God Roharam’s humble tool and saint. Hahaha.”
“Y-Yes. G-Glad to meet you. I-I am Erwin Tür Theod. K-King of Lordric.”
“Hahaha. Your Highness Erwin Tür Theod. I see. Wow, such a noble name—it’s hard to even say once. Hahaha.”
The atmosphere flipped like a palm. The first proper audience since the late king’s passing.
“Looks like Erwin here can’t run, but he can walk, huh?”
Charlotte, sword still undrawn amid the sudden events, had no choice but to sheath it at Professor’s grinning remark aimed her way.
“I-I’m not well, so I can’t spare much t-time. What m-message brings you here...?”
“Oh dear! For our nation’s father to be unwell— as a cleric, I can’t let that pass. As a medical expert who’s performed healing sacraments everywhere, I’d say holing up in this dim, stuffy space is why. How about we talk on a walk outside? For Your Highness’s health.”
“O-Outside...?”
“Yes. Right now.”
Tap—roll!
The bowl the saint set down caught on his foot and rolled toward the king.
Remembering how it was meant to be used from the saint’s hand, the king unwittingly nodded.
Charlotte, still guarding the young king, wasn’t sure whether to admire the saint’s skill in securing audience and outing the king or condemn his coercive methods.
“...I shall attend you, Your Highness.”
“Y-Yes. Don’t leave my side for a single moment. Absolutely!”
Since it was what she’d longed for, she swallowed her swirling thoughts, straightened the young king’s clothes, and followed.
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