Chapter 202
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 202
Chapter Title: A Noble in a Humble Place -1-
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Empire's Third Knight, Yurgena di Venta.
His daily routine, aside from special occasions, consisted of holing up in a training chamber that no one was allowed to observe.
Estate management and administrative drudgery only got in the way of his focus on the sword.
For Yurgena, who already felt the days were too short and time too scarce, there was no room to wrestle with paperwork or chat idly with guests.
A few years back, he'd handed off the estate's operations to his eldest son.
Only now, with age upon him, did he truly feel it. Estates, women, children, jewels—they were all nothing but cumbersome burdens.
He occupied a position where his title as the Third Knight and a single sword proved everything.
'I need to be even freer.'
He felt the need for his body, mind, and soul to achieve greater freedom than now.
Lately, he'd been sensing that his own thoughts and perspective were growing narrow.
He spent the entire day contemplating the sword, pondering how he could ascend even higher.
If only he could grow stronger from here—parents, children, wealth, power—none of it would matter.
That was why he'd joined hands with Nematos, who promised to aid his growth in every way.
Even now, as one of the group's high-ranking executives, he harbored no regrets about that decision.
Should his ties to black mages ever come to light, he had plenty of children willing to take the fall and hurl themselves into the flames in his stead.
If there weren't enough, he could always make more.
His thirst for power ran that deep.
"Hoo."
He sat immersed in thought amid utter darkness, without a single point of light.
It was nothing more than ordinary meditation, yet no one—not even his own flesh and blood—could witness Yurgena's training.
Not since one of his forgotten children from some long-lost concubine had barged into the training chamber without permission and lost his head for it.
After that, no one dared approach during his training sessions.
'...I'm stuck.'
What more could he do from here to grow stronger?
He could sense the limits of simply pushing through motions until his muscles screamed.
Even the elixirs provided by Nematos barely affected his body anymore. What he desperately needed now was growth in his swordsmanship, not his flesh.
His mind raced with too many thoughts, and lately, he'd spent his time in meditation alone—without once drawing his blade.
"Looks like today won't cut it either."
A frustrated mutter escaped his lips.
In search of some clue to breakthrough, what should he try today?
He felt uneasy even about experimenting with something new, uncertain if it would yield answers when all his old methods had failed.
Emerging from the training chamber—far removed from the annex—he returned to the mansion, where the head butler approached him cautiously.
"Patriarch. A letter has arrived..."
"Hm?"
A yellowed, grimy envelope.
Normally, an item like this wouldn't even make it past the mansion gates.
But a crow—not a postman—had dropped it off on the windowsill.
That, combined with the peculiar emblem on the wax seal and the gleaming stamp—so at odds with the shabby envelope—had muddled the butler's judgment.
A letter addressed to the Third Knight, yet bearing no sender's name.
Rip—
Recognizing what the stamp and seal signified, Yurgena dismissed the butler and tore open the envelope.
...
...
The letter hadn't come only to Yurgena.
Nematos had even convened a meeting over it internally, but given who the sender was, they couldn't pin down any firm conclusions.
There were plenty of suspicions about why those madmen wanted to meet a representative, but nothing concrete.
'It's been ages since I stepped outside the estate.'
He walked toward the village nestled in the Fog Nest.
The place had enough house-like structures to qualify as a village, but an eerie aura hung over it, with no signs of life whatsoever.
Just one solitary presence.
Heading toward it, the door of a ramshackle hut swung open in welcome.
Creeeak—
"Have a seat."
From the moment he faced his counterpart, Yurgena heightened all his senses.
'Morgan Blackwood...'
This was their second meeting.
An elderly man flashing a friendly smile.
But he already knew that smile belonged to a human steeped in unadulterated madness.
Yurgena sat across from Morgan, his sword still at his waist.
According to the letter, Morgan currently held the right to represent Mendes Pentagram.
And after some discussion, Yurgena—who was acquainted with him—had gained the right to represent Nematos.
From here on, every word would speak for their respective organizations.
"I need some answers about this."
An ominous object spun lazily atop Morgan's palm.
Yurgena wasn't a black mage himself, but he knew the group's inner workings well enough to recognize what it was.
'...How the hell did he get that?'
No insular cult hunkered in some corner, worshiping devils, could ever obtain such a thing.
Life experience let him maintain a blank expression amid the situation, but his mind was a whirlwind.
"Raise your right hand."
Morgan issued the soft command to the silent Yurgena.
Seeing the red magic circle and the goat's head at its center, Yurgena replied with stoic calm.
"I won't comply."
"I haven't even posed the question yet... Are you admitting it outright, without excuses or justifications for this item?"
Yurgena shook his head—that wasn't what he meant—and met Morgan's murderous gaze without flinching.
"Because I, as Nematos's representative, have no need to heed Mendes Pentagram's words. We are not your subordinates."
Morgan let out a soft chuckle at the defiance, showing no outburst of anger.
"Heh heh... Got yourself a kid and a bit of beard, and now your worldly, power-soaked tongue slithers like a serpent."
"Do you think you can demean me like that? This is no laughing matter."
Morgan's shoulders shook with laughter at Yurgena's words, his eyes and mouth curving up into a chilling grimace.
"Even when Nematos coveted an item from the Bright family, we let it slide quietly."
"..."
At the epicenter of impure mana and seething madness, Yurgena crossed his arms and held his composed posture.
"We guessed your aim, but since you took no action, we stayed put. Little one."
Rumble—
As the ominous mana began to churn, the hut shuddered as if screaming.
Yurgena rested a hand on the sword at his waist and kept tension in his legs.
Thud!
A grotesque offering box materialized beside Morgan.
Its form would make any churchgoer roll their eyes back and faint: an angel weeping tears of blood, impaled by swords and spears, hung upside down.
Yurgena's grip tightened on his sword.
"Put it in the offering box right now. Are you truly going against Nematos?"
"If you're going to say that, you shouldn't have made the damn thing to begin with."
Clang!!
"This is a declaration of war. The path Mendes Pentagram will forge ahead."
Flecks of artificial devil flesh crumbled and scattered from Morgan's hand.
"You're insane..."
Yurgena's face twisted as he watched the powder disperse into the air.
At being called insane, Morgan looked positively delighted, as if his faith had been affirmed.
"Our mediator will not sit idly by. Summon your leaders."
Mediator.
The term for Mendes Pentagram's de facto head—the conduit to the devils.
Today, unusually, work wrapped up while the sun was still up.
Returning to the church with Mazella, Artia headed to her private chamber for a bit of rest—only to run into a welcome face.
"Saintess!"
"Shuel! Are you sure you don't need more rest?"
The novice nun, who hadn't yet shed her baby fat, spun her shoulder energetically to prove her vitality—quite unlike her age.
"I'm really fine now! If I slack off, it'll just pile more work on everyone..."
"Still, no overdoing it, okay?"
She's grown so much mentally from that one ordeal.
Artia felt a mix of warmth and an indescribable bitterness.
"Saintess, when do you leave this time?"
"Who knows. No plans yet."
Shuel's eyes lit up with joy at Artia's words.
"I hope you stay long..."
Some things haven't changed.
Artia took the hand of Shuel—who was still craving affection and attention—and strolled through the church.
From the interrogation of Floyd House's patriarch to those of nobles publicly known to be close allies.
The church pressed on with its investigations, backed by its mission to eradicate the impure and the power lent by the imperial family.
Manpower wasn't the issue, but proving innocence couldn't be rushed in a day.
Thus, Artia was stuck in the capital, unable to set off on her usual pilgrimages and missionary journeys.
"I'm worried if my letter reached the adventurer... I want to give proper thanks."
Platinum rank, no less.
Having briefly experienced adventurer life herself, Shuel had some inkling of how extraordinary such a figure was.
Even sent through the church, she couldn't shake the anxiety.
"Hmm~ How about we head to the Adventurer's Guild together and check?"
"Really?!"
Mazella—who'd been trailing silently behind without interrupting—finally spoke.
"Shuel. The Saintess needs to rest now."
"S-Sorry..."
Shuel shrank at Mazella's words from behind Artia, but the Saintess smiled reassuringly and tried to persuade her.
"Don't worry. It's close by—we can make it a quick trip."
From the perspective of her guard and aide, it was impossible to allow.
"No. You barely slept last night. You need to rest."
The Saintess's constitution was frailer than the average imperial citizen when it came to stamina, and she was nearing her limit.
She and most paladins or priests could go a day or two without sleep on holy power alone—just a heavy-headed fog at worst.
But the Saintess absolutely required sleep.
Yet she was forcing herself through the church's schedule, her stamina draining faster by the day amid chronic sleep deprivation.
"The odds of a Platinum adventurer actually being there are ridiculously low anyway. And if they are, don't we want to offer at least some token of gratitude?"
"..."
If it's this reasonable, maybe she'll budge a little.
But Mazella's expression remained rigid, showing no sign of yielding.
After pondering with Shuel, the Saintess added one more plea.
"We won't stray off. It'll be quick. Mazella can come along too, right?"
"Mazella... Please!"
The two women gazed up at her with desperate eyes.
Mazella averted her sparkling stare and squeezed her eyes shut.
'If we go as fast as possible, time-wise...'
After a quick mental calculation, Mazella let out a deep sigh and nodded reluctantly.
"Haa... We're only confirming if the letter arrived."
""Yesss~""
Artia and Shuel high-fived triumphantly and burst into delighted giggles.