Flames of Retribution
The reason Bellon Bellos, the crown prince, hadn't watched the saintess candidate's group traveling from the Holy Kingdom to the Southern Empire from the start.
"The railroad should be laid in the north first."
"Yes."
It was that simple.
"Where should we select the site for the academy grounds?"
"I'm torn between the northwest or the northeast. What do you all think?"
"Your Highness, I believe the northwest would be suitable. The reasons are..."
He was too busy.
Starting with the railroad and academy right away. He also needed to find ways to repurpose the magic tower hovering in the sky. Then there were tax issues and the relocation of the northern barbarians. There were just too many problems to handle.
At least he was managing internal affairs by drawing on the former crown prince's memories. But since he wasn't the real crown prince down to his core, handling everything smoothly was incredibly difficult.
Thank goodness I have so many capable people helping me out. Otherwise, it would've been a real disaster.
With all this on his plate, he couldn't keep watching the saintess candidate's procession forever.
Honestly, even with a bad feeling gnawing at him, who could've imagined it would actually happen?
But it really did.
The border between the Southern Empire and the Holy Kingdom. That ambiguous region the Empire called a no-man's-land and the Holy Kingdom dubbed the Pilgrimage Road.
He never dreamed they'd stir up trouble there.
It felt like his flesh was being torn away, but there was nothing to be done. He was in a position where he had to just sit back and watch.
But to think they'd resort to such a one-dimensional idea: if we can't have it, we'll destroy it.
"I wanted to head straight to the capital to handle things myself instead of dealing with this in the south."
"Your Highness?"
"This is as far as we go here. I'll take care of the rest in the capital."
Curious just how confident they were to pull this off, Bellon rose from his seat immediately.
Internal affairs would have to wait. Now was the time for judgment.
"...Flames."
Someone's words drew everyone's gaze that way.
The swords that had been swinging to claim lives halted right then.
"...What the hell is that?"
The holy knights—no, the bandits—stared in panic at where the flames had erupted.
In the middle of the desert. Massive flames that shouldn't exist roared to life, asserting their presence.
The bandits instinctively knew: if they didn't deal with that first, they couldn't accomplish anything.
So without hesitation, they turned toward it.
To eliminate those who obstructed God's will.
But what they encountered upon reaching the flames...
"Gaaahhh!"
"My body! My boooodyyy!"
"The fire—the fire on my body won't go out!"
"Save me! Please, save us!"
"Romper! O Romper! Have mercy on us!"
...was a living hell.
The Holy Kingdom's vaunted forces writhed desperately on the ground, trying to extinguish the flames clinging to them.
Those not yet aflame cowered, terrified to approach the blaze blooming in the desert's heart.
These were men who would charge into any evil to smite it. Yet now, they trembled like children, biting their lips to keep from curling up in fear.
And the one responsible for this scene.
"How could bandits infest a place called the Holy Kingdom's Pilgrimage Road?"
The golden-haired, golden-eyed man sat atop a pile of holy knights' corpses.
"...My apologies, Your Highness the Crown Prince."
"What do you have to apologize for? This happened outside the Holy Kingdom."
At Rowena's words, the bandits' eyes widened.
The crown prince? The Empire's crown prince had come all this way to aid the saintess candidate?
Questions flooded their minds at the incomprehensible situation.
"When did you..."
The words spilled out unbidden.
"Do bandits care about that? No manners at all."
The crown prince's reply made them realize their mistake.
And simultaneously grasp how badly things had gone.
Should we retreat?
Even if their identities were exposed, there was no solid proof.
They could claim heat-induced hallucinations if anyone pointed fingers.
Facing him head-on is insane.
Running was the best option. With the crown prince here, further action was impossible.
Using divinity would make denial impossible anyway.
So the bandits who were still relatively intact exchanged glances and turned to flee—
"Bandits rolling their eyes so blatantly. As if this is your first time in a mess like this."
Whoosh!
Flames shot straight out, precisely incinerating the bandits' legs from the knees down.
Despite civilians nearby, the control was exquisite—only the bandits' lower legs vanished.
Rowena, the saintess candidate, was the most shocked by the sight.
I'd heard he'd been purging lately, so I thought his temper was wild.
Watching Bellon, she realized how wrong she'd been.
She'd assumed he was destructive from the northern and eastern incidents.
But he was kinder than anyone.
Protecting those in his shadow without mercy for threats.
I was so foolish to judge based on rumors without seeing for myself. I must apologize later.
And in that moment.
"Hnggh... Hnngghh!"
Those missing their lower legs rolled on the ground, crawling desperately away from Bellon.
"The northern knights eat dirt, so do the southern knights eat sand?"
Not knights, really—bandits.
Bellon slowly rose, watching them.
"You'll never make it back alive."
He informed the sand-munching bandits of their impending reality.
"Even if you do, it'll just be your heads—and the truth will be the crown prince's purge of Pilgrimage Road bandits."
"N-No way. That can't..."
"You think the Holy Kingdom will protect you? The ones who stabbed themselves out of fear of what I'd give them?"
Despair filled the bandits' eyes.
The Holy Kingdom wouldn't shield them—that truth sank in.
"Right. If you're messing with what's mine, wear that look."
With those words, every bandit's body turned to ash and vanished.
Overwhelming firepower.
In an instant, everything threatening the saintess candidate's group was gone.
Except their heads, precisely.
"Thank you so much, Your Highness the Crown Prince."
As the situation cleared, Rowena knelt swiftly.
"And I apologize. I judged you based on rumors and misunderstood."
"No mind. Rise. How can the one leading all these people kneel so easily?"
"How could I not, when meeting the one who'll be our shadow?"
With those words, Rowena met Bellon's gaze.
Golden hair, golden eyes. The imperial trait filled her vision.
"A saintess candidate staring so openly—what am I to do? Like my face?"
"N-No. Sorry. I was rude..."
"No, do you like it?"
"...Yes."
"Bowing like that. Still, thanks."
In that brief exchange, Rowena wondered if the desert had always been this hot.
"The Empire will send an escort force. With so many bandits, what has the Holy Kingdom been doing?"
"...Your Highness, my apologies."
"I didn't say it to hear apologies."
Those who should apologize were elsewhere, yet the wrong person bowed.
With those words, Bellon smiled faintly.
Rowena knew that smile wasn't genuine.
Smiling in a situation not worth it.
Likely because so many watched the crown prince.
A ruler who erased an unexpected threat.
The mood shifted with his expression—he knew it well.
A kind man.
Rowena slipped behind him, admiring his back freely.
And right then.
"Come to think of it, I don't know what to call you. Saintess candidate?"
"That's meaningless now. Feel free to call me Rowena."
"Right, Rowena. I planned to say this in the capital, but since we're here early—mind if I ask something?"
Bellon smiled deeply, locking eyes with her.
"Ever thought of becoming the Empire's saintess?"
Those casual words.
"Eh?"
Rowena wore the most dumbfounded look of her life.
Crash!
"Wh-What is that?!"
Screeech!
The shattering of the Great Cathedral's ceiling glass startled everyone.
Shocking enough on its own, but during the Pope's prayer time?
An attack? An undetected assault?
"Protect the Pope!"
"Enemy attack!"
Priests and knights rushed to shield the Pope, trying to evacuate him.
As the Pope neared the prayer room's exit.
Thud!
Something massive dropped from the broken ceiling hole with a heavy sound.
The red bundle, heavy with contents, splattered wetly on impact.
A gruesome noise.
No one guessed what it was—except the Pope.
"E-Everyone, out!"
He paled, ordering everyone from the room.
"B-But we don't know what it is—how can we leave Your Holiness..."
"Out, now!"
As if no one else must know its nature, the Pope bellowed unusually loudly, clearing the room.
Screeech!
A bird announced its presence, then departed mockingly.
The Pope knew that bird.
A phoenix reborn in majesty.
The crown prince's messenger bird.
Had no one noticed? Had it hidden itself?
Questions swirled, but now wasn't the time.
"Hah... Hah..."
His trembling hands unwrapped the red cloth.
Revealing a truth no one wanted to see.
"...!"
Not the Holy Kingdom's elite, but still no slouches at their job.
A full knight order dispatched as precaution.
Yet they returned to the Holy Kingdom as heads alone.
Via the crown prince's messenger bird.
The message was clear: Don't try any tricks. It's not that we can't touch you—we choose not to.
"Ro... O God Romper..."
Unable to bear the crushed heads any longer, the Pope hastily rewrapped the bundle.
Clutching at his god, he steadied his staggering body.
"Father!"
"...Valerian, you're here."
As he composed himself, his son entered.
Valerian hadn't seen inside but grasped it instantly.
"The crown prince's doing?"
His face hardened.
At his words, the Pope's expression softened ironically.
"Does this look like the crown prince's work?"
"Then it's not?"
"It was... us, Valerian. We did this."
It didn't have to end like this.
How could it be the crown prince's fault?
We created this—yet pretend otherwise?
The Pope wanted to ask, but knew he was no different. He clamped his mouth shut.
What use was teaching if they couldn't see it themselves?
"...."
The Pope turned from Valerian silently, picked up the bundle of heads, and left.
Alone in the prayer room.
Crown prince...
Valerian felt his legs give way to an emotion he'd never known.
Its name was.
Was he always this strong? Did I really think I could stand against a crown prince like that?
Terror.