Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Reunion
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Yes. We truly didn’t have any time to spare.
Rumors that His Majesty would soon pass away followed us everywhere. They were no longer a secret—by day, we heard them in the markets; by night, they echoed in every inn.
Some drank and gambled on who the next emperor would be. From what I saw, the only one truly making money was the bookmaker.
“Of course, Prince Edmund will ascend to the throne next.”
“So many have bet on Edmund. The odds are tiny—still wanna try?”
“Low returns mean it’s that much safer. Honestly, who else could take the throne!”
A potbellied man slammed down his beer mug, heedless of the foam spilling onto his ample front, and bellowed.
“Even banks charge fees to hold your money—those skinflints. Better to invest here and watch it grow a bit.”
The princess was too overwhelmed to even listen to such talk. She seemed consumed with how to force-feed the horse hay to restore its strength.
It was only natural. She’d been pouring holy power into the horse day and night, making it forget its fatigue, yet the capital was still some distance away. Even that was possible only because it was a top-grade steed, a purebred that could charge across plains and crash through forest paths.
An ordinary horse couldn’t have covered this distance in just a few days.
“We’re not too late, are we...? Please, tell me we’re not too late yet. If we really don’t make it in time... then...”
Seeing her tearful face, I simply nodded.
“Once the horse recovers, we’ll set off again right away. This time, straight to the capital without a single stop.”
“I’m the most unfilial child under heaven.”
Thud! The princess bashed her head against a beam. To prevent the beam from collapsing and burying all these people under a falling roof, I had to stop her.
“Um... I’ll go wash up for a bit.”
Even Roca, who usually stuck to my side, had pulled away since hearing the princess’s father was on the verge of death. Admirably, despite the forced march chasing away sleep with holy power, she hadn’t uttered a single complaint.
Sometimes, she gazed at the princess with wistful eyes—as if sharing her pain.
I’d never asked what happened to Roca’s parents or where they were now, and Roca had never told me. But it didn’t seem like they’d been at odds or estranged.
Whenever “father” came up, longing welled in Roca’s eyes too. Longing for those she could no longer see.
Before the princess had even come to me, I’d once asked Roca if she wanted to return to her homeland. Her childlike recoil told me everything—I could guess what had become of it. Likely erased from the maps.
Roca had probably lost her pillar of support at a young age, just like me. That was why I felt drawn to her. The same went for me.
When the man-eating beast manticore razed my hometown, I lost my parents too. The Lord came to me, but not to her—so I took His place in watching over her.
“Looking back now, I never gave Father a proper gift. Just the ceremonial ones on his birthday—that’s all. And yet I resented him! I even threw tantrums, furious that he chose my brother as crown prince instead of me.”
So I understood that feeling. They left my side too soon, before I could do anything for them. But it was too early for comfort.
Nothing was decided yet. The worst could be dealt with if it came. Surely, the princess would reach His Majesty before he passed. For now, I’d believe that.
“Saint. Once again... you’ve guided this foolish woman. If you hadn’t sent word to the capital through Viscount Leighton... I’d have been wandering the provinces, oblivious even to Father’s illness. Even if I’d heard by chance, it would’ve been far too late.”
“I’ll accept your thanks once we’ve delayed His Majesty’s passing.”
The horse needed time to recover anyway, so I urged her to wash up, eat, and regain some strength. Then I handed her an unassuming jar.
“I know nothing of imperial protocols, but Ro and I can’t just barge into where His Majesty lies. That privilege likely belongs to you alone.”
One sanctuary beacon. One baptizer’s vial. One firefly crystal fruit.
Just in case, I added my other authority: a salt-grinding millstone. No telling what would work, so I gave everything I could.
With the beacon’s gentle flame burning, the firefly crystal fruit wouldn’t fade as long as its light touched it.
A beacon to open a sanctuary and illuminate a village. A vial of holy water. A fruit to reconstitute the body. A millstone to produce salt that repels curses and drives out evil spirits. If these four proved useless, even my direct diagnosis wouldn’t change a thing.
If His Majesty’s natural lifespan had simply run its course, no power of mine could or should stop it.
I hoped it wasn’t so, but that wasn’t for me or the princess to decide—just a helpless void.
“You must examine him yourself, Saint! I’ll handle the protocols...”
“You won’t even have time for arguments. Listen well. The moment you reach His Majesty’s side, the first thing you must do is...”
*****
The first thing to pull out was the sanctuary beacon.
Recalling Kyle’s words, Ardine reached into the jar.
In there were the wolves who’d once bitten at her. The loathsome Archbishop Armata and Grand Duke Valder, who’d feigned kindness with smiles only to change faces the moment illness struck—they were irritants to Ardine.
But now, none of that mattered. She had no spare thoughts for such vermin!
“Halt. Proof is needed that you are truly Ardine.”
The archbishop, however, had no intention of ignoring the princess.
He hurriedly blocked her path and barked loudly.
“If you were truly the princess, you shouldn’t be here. What blasphemy does a sinner punished by divine wrath seek to commit? But that can’t be. It’s absurd for one struck by leprosy to recover and return!”
He’d seen Ardine’s dragon-form aura, but in his position, rumors abounded.
The famed dragon-demon aura of Emperor Harma El bore an uncanny resemblance to the imperial dragon-form aura—that was one such tale.
A master like Harma El could certainly alter her mana’s hue briefly to deceive others. It was natural for him to suspect this Ardine was Harma El in disguise—at least from his vantage.
“Archbishop! Archbishop! When I collapsed from illness, what did you say to me? You cursed this patient, saying I had no ground to be buried in, that my corpse must be burned, my ashes unworthy even for the temple, doomed to wander the netherworlds eternally!”
With her father on the brink of death, the princess’s fury at this archbishop blocking her was near explosion. Had he not lain so far off, she might have drawn her sword.
Instead, she drew something else—from the unassuming jar, a brilliantly glowing orb of fire.
Those who saw the flame tensed, and Archbishop Armata reflexively shielded his face, expecting her to hurl it at him.
Whoosh!
With a gust, a shadow descended from above beside the emperor, blocking the princess and assuming a guard stance. Astonishingly, the elder was already at the master realm.
The nobles present paled and whispered in shock upon recognizing him.
“Who in the world...?”
“A master not publicly known on the continent?”
Indeed, even as a family declined, three generations endured. The imperial house’s hidden strengths might not revive a fading nation to superpower status, but they still held enough to astonish the world.
Though he disliked revealing himself, the elder stepped forward willingly. He had to consider the possibility of the master-realm princess hurling that fireball at the emperor.
But then, radiant light burst from the beacon. Brighter than words could describe, yet no one squinted or averted their eyes. Dazzling, but not blinding.
“Many threw stones at me then—not just you—so I won’t resent you for that. But blocking me from seeing my father? That I can’t forgive. Tell your men: only those who didn’t stone me may stand in my way. Let’s see who dares!”
The sanctuary beacon.
Not an authority, but a miracle.
The embodiment of divinity bestowed directly by god illuminated the world like the midday sun. It opened brightness, banished darkness, and all it touched became objects of mercy and grace.
Bent backs straightened; Grand Duke Valder’s chronic indigestion vanished in an instant.
Flustered by the miracle, Archbishop Armata tried erecting a holy barrier to block the light, but it passed through unscathed and reached him too. The Hope God’s power ignored Hila’s holy force and permeated his body.
His mind cleared; the wrinkles on his brow eased slightly. Speechless, he merely worked his mouth as if to speak.
“Th-this is...”
“Sister. What do you think you’re doing?”
Prince Edmund the Third shouted in outrage. He had reason for his anger.
“What if this shocks Father? Don’t you think this light is too intense for His Majesty to bear?”
Of course, it was an excuse for show.
He himself felt the sanctuary beacon’s power—how could he not know if it was beneficial? But before the princess could retort, an aged, frail voice halted him. Halted everyone.
“That’s enough.”
A mere sack of straw, overlooked amid the attention. Yet the most vital person here.
The emperor had opened his eyes, propped crookedly against the headboard.
They’d gathered to witness his eyes closing, not opening. No one had anticipated this.
The moment they saw his eyes open, the room fell silent. Even Archbishop Armata gawked, round-eyed.
In truth, he’d awakened the instant the beacon’s light touched him but had quietly observed.
He’d meticulously noted every micro-expression from Grand Duke Valder and his children, to the nobles scheming alliances within the hall. The emperor sighed inwardly.
Until he spoke, no one had noticed the old man’s eyes were open. They’d dismissed him as a dying relic unworthy of notice.
Only the empress knew he’d awakened, cradling him and weeping—that was small comfort. At least one thing had gone right in his arduous life: his marriage.
His gaze swept the room, then fixed on the princess.
Only then did warmth melt into his eyes. He smiled faintly and spread his arms.
“Ardine. My daughter. Come here.”
“Your Majesty... Your daughter has finally returned.”
Ardine all but collapsed forward, crawling on her knees to him.
Reflexively, he signaled the two masters moving to guard him to stand down. Then, surveying the room, he spoke.
“Everyone here—may I ask one favor?”
The emperor coughed raggedly. His illness stemmed partly from heaven’s decree; even the sanctuary beacon couldn’t fully restore him.
“We congratulate Your Majesty on your recovery! Command us as you will.”
Grand Duke Valder knelt first, faster than anyone—even Prince Edmund recoiled at the speed of his pivot.
The Seventh Prince, who’d moments ago headbutted in tears, now wore perpetual panic as his father rose—experience was a fearsome thing.
“My daughter has returned to me. The goddess stripped her illness and granted me this brief time to face her. I wish to speak with her alone, so please, all of you, withdraw.”
In the stunned silence, eyes darted between each other.
What did this mean? Was His Majesty considering Ardine as successor?
Prince Edmund’s face twitched violently.
Unable to contain himself, he burst out. Why, why did his father favor his sister so!
“Your Majesty!”
“Edmund. It’s not what you think.”
The emperor turned to his son. His gaze held neither warmth nor coldness—complex, as if even he couldn’t grasp his own feelings.
“I intend to bestow the crown prince’s seat on neither you nor your sister.”
His body shuddered once at the eye contact, twice upon hearing the words.
What more could be done against such declaration? Defy imperial command? Stage a rebellion here? Don’t be ridiculous. This was the heart of imperial power, the capital.
Forces loyal solely to the emperor would heed him until his death. With eyes open and risen, his word was absolute here—at least in the capital.
If the Third Prince and Grand Duke Valder could overwhelm him, why covet the throne? Power lingered there still.
“Your Majesty, I obey.”
Only then did Edmund yield and exit. Once all had left the hall, Ardine trembled and sank to her knees. The emperor sighed and ordered his guards to withdraw. All obeyed save one elder.
Feigning deafness, he remained by the emperor’s side.
The emperor issued no command, only a request.
“Mr. Madeleine. You trouble yourself guarding a dying old man. Rest a moment. I wish to speak with my daughter not as sovereign and subject, but father and child.”
“Your Majesty. But I must protect you.”
“Would you please step out, just for a while?”
Instead of answering, the emperor smiled invitingly. Mr. Madeleine met his eyes, then shook his head helplessly and quietly left the hall.
Now, truly, only the two remained. And the blazing sanctuary beacon illuminated the chamber.
* * *