A Debt Repaid and a New Deal
The moment Arendt left Laios's room, he flopped backward onto his own bed and sprawled out. Staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling, he sank back into thought.
Rebecca, was it...
She was the mastermind who had given Cantares and Laios a considerable amount of grief. But what had tormented Laios most wasn't Rebecca herself — it was the single mercenary she had hired.
Theirs was technically an employer-and-mercenary relationship, yet the man had been obsessed with Rebecca to a disturbing degree. He carried out her orders as though they were absolute law, and the collateral damage meant nothing to him.
Countless civilians had died after being swept into his fights, and the knights had lost a few of their own as well. In the end, he exited the stage as one of the villains cut down by Laios's own hand.
That alone would have been impossible for an ordinary mercenary — because that man had wielded strange magic. He was not human.
So that's where the thread leads.
"If it wasn't made by humans... then it'd be something created by elves, dragons, that sort of race, right?"
"Exactly. With human power alone, it would've been impossible to craft an artifact that strong."
The old conversation with the Crown Prince floated back to him. If anything, this might actually turn out to be a rather promising opportunity.
After all, if he could track down that mercenary, he might prevent a great deal of pointless bloodshed. And as a bonus, rooting out Rebecca — a potential enemy — now would deal her organization a sizable blow before it ever came to a head.
By now, they're probably already inside the Empire.
The problem was that there was no way to locate either of their bases at present. But Laios would be launching the investigation himself, so news would surely come sooner or later.
For now, what mattered were Father Declan, Priestess Lumiel, and the Great Temple.
Having spent a sleepless night at the gambling den and then pushed his body through a brutal fight, drowsiness came flooding in wave after wave. He didn't bother resisting as his eyelids grew heavy. And so the apprentice knight slept like the dead until Arthur came to wake him the next morning.
By the time the probation period ended and the 3rd Imperial Knights Order began the journey home, welcome news had flown in from Kendrick of the 1st Knight Order.
They had rescued everyone who had been dragged off to forced labor camps.
Those unable to repay their debts had been scattered across quarries and work sites far and wide, being exploited in every corner of the region.
Having received the intelligence from Laios, Kendrick had split his knight order into detachments and dispatched them across the territory, successfully raiding every labor camp and pulling the captives out alive.
When word arrived that Father Declan had also been recovered safe and sound among them, the entire 3rd Knight Order erupted in a single, unified cheer. All the misery they'd endured suddenly felt like it had been repaid in full.
The rescued were to be transferred to the Imperial Palace for questioning, which meant the day Father Declan and Priestess Lumiel were reunited wasn't far off.
And that, in turn, meant the day the bargain between Priestess Lumiel, Cantares, and Arendt was sealed had drawn close as well.
Barely a few days after returning to the Imperial Palace, Arendt received a summons from Cantares. It was the call he'd been waiting for.
When he entered the Crown Prince's private study as instructed, the people who had arrived before him came into view.
"So you've finally arrived."
Cantares, already seated, raised a lazy hand toward Arendt as he opened the door. Priestess Lumiel, sitting across from him, greeted him with a quiet smile as well.
"It has been some time, Sir Arendt."
Behind her stood a priest he had never seen before. His clothes looked freshly changed and spotless, but his deathly pale face was proof enough of the conditions he had endured until recently.
Arendt greeted the two with a light dip of his head and cut straight to the point.
"You'd be Father Declan, I take it?"
No one saw fit to point out the audacity of a man who couldn't even manage a proper bow before blurting out his own business. Instead of rebuking him, Priestess Lumiel simply nodded, slow and calm.
"Yes, that's right. He's the one you saved, Sir Arendt."
"I... truly cannot thank you enough."
Father Declan bowed deeply at the waist.
Arendt shrugged.
"There's no debt to speak of. It just sort of turned out this way."
"I've heard everything that happened because of a wretch like me. I'm so ashamed I can hardly lift my head."
Even now, Declan did not raise his head, and the priestess's expression darkened along with his.
"Thank you for your concern. I cannot escape being defrocked, but we are alive and have met again — and for that alone, I am grateful."
Having been tangled up in a scandal like this, the path of a priest would no longer be possible for him.
"So what will you do now?" Arendt asked, a passing remark kept deliberately short.
"For now, having survived, I intend to give thanks to Lord Luce... and take my time deciding what comes next. One body like mine can always find some way to scrape by, don't you think?"
Only then did Declan lift his head, forcing a smile onto his haggard face.
Priestess Lumiel picked up where he left off.
"I brought him so that he could thank you in person. Once the investigation concludes, we must leave the palace, so I doubt there will be another chance."
"I understand the sentiment, but... the man looks like he could keel over any second. He's said his thanks, so how about easing him out the door now?"
Arendt blurted it out flatly as he watched the forced smile tremble at the corners of the priest's lips. It wasn't an unreasonable suggestion.
The man had been a mere priest when he went through all manner of hell, and no sooner had he barely been rescued than he found himself seated before not just the Crown Prince but Priestess Lumiel as well.
Cantares nodded.
"We do have business of our own to discuss. That would be acceptable, wouldn't it?"
"Of course, Your Highness. Forcing him to offer thanks was purely my own stubbornness. Thank you for your consideration."
The moment the priestess finished speaking, Zereon, who had been waiting at the side, took Declan by the arm.
After bowing to Arendt one last time, Father Declan shuffled out after him, shoulders sagging.
"He won't go poking around gambling dens again, will he, looking like that?"
"No one can say for certain what a person will do, but I believe he won't. He mustn't. Our help is the last he'll be getting."
Priestess Lumiel answered Arendt's question with a bittersweet look.
"Let me offer my thanks once more. The High Priest seems to have guessed that all of you were involved, but he hasn't scolded us much."
"A single priest's transgression is never grounds for holding the temple itself accountable. A hot-blooded young man is bound to slip up now and then."
Cantares's lips curled in a faint smirk.
"Besides, the imperial family never actually meddled in the temple's affairs. Sir Laios and his men merely happened to be out on field training nearby, and he happened to suppress a riot that happened to be breaking out — that's all."
Granted, word kept filtering in from the arrested men that the riot had been set off by a certain silver-haired, insufferable apprentice knight...
But officially speaking, Arendt and everyone with him were recorded as being on training maneuvers with Laios, so those testimonies went exactly nowhere.
"And in the course of that suppression, upon learning of Father Declan's disappearance, he was located among the victims and handed over to Priestess Lumiel. Nothing more than simple 'goodwill,' you see."
Cantares added the last part, laying a peculiar emphasis on the word. The High Priest was no fool, of course — he had almost certainly pieced together the whole story front to back.
His silence was a declaration that he intended to turn a blind eye to this 'trade of goodwill' between the priestess and the Crown Prince.
And in truth, there was nothing left for him to interject about or point out. If he needlessly piped up after everything had ended so neatly, the only one made to look ridiculous would be the High Priest himself.
A tranquil smile bloomed at the corners of the old priestess's mouth as she nodded slowly.
"Then it seems I can finally fulfill Your Highness's request. What a long, roundabout road it has been, all for an old woman's stubbornness."
She drew a neatly bundled stack of documents from her robe and set it on the table.
"It would be rude to delay any longer, so I have already prepared a report using the information Assistant Zereon provided me. If any questions arise, please ask me at any time."
"We'll accept it gratefully."
"I will also see to it that the discord within the temple is put in order. At this point, I should be able to persuade the High Priest."
If that much went according to plan, the affairs of the imperial family and the temple's interior would both be more or less settled.
Which meant there was only one thing left.
"Time for us to settle our accounts too, Your Highness."
At Arendt's beaming words, Cantares pressed a hand to his face. Priestess Lumiel let out an awkward chuckle.
"Then I shall take my leave. It seems the two of you have matters to discuss..."
"You're leaving now? How heartless of you. At least stop this rascal."
"Fuhuhu. Sometimes it is better to accept what cannot be changed quickly, Your Highness."
With an answer that was kindly yet utterly immovable, the priestess rose from her seat with graceful poise and promptly exited the room.
Thud.
The door closed again, leaving only Cantares and Arendt in the study. Arendt immediately claimed the seat the priestess had vacated and sprawled across it without a shred of ceremony.
"So? What do you think?"
"Think about what? Thanks to you, my workload just came pouring in again."
The smile gone from his face, Cantares grumbled right back.
"They say work begets work... At this point, I'm starting to think you're the type who carries trouble around with him."
"I have no such hobby, I assure you. My preference, if anything, is not moving a single step from a warm bed."
"Even a passing dog would laugh at that. Anyway — I heard the report from Laios. You're saying there's someone behind the gambling ring?"
Snorting, Cantares steered the conversation back on course. Sinking deep into his chair, Arendt shrugged.
"Judging by the scale of that den, the organization itself must be enormous. And from the look of things, the Commander's already preparing to move. All he needs is for you to grant the investigation authorization, Your Highness."
"Fine. I'll process the paperwork as soon as it comes up."
If they kept digging for traces here and there, the other side would inevitably show itself first. Which meant all that remained was —
"You made quite a tidy profit this time, didn't you, Your Highness?"
"......"
Cantares very deliberately looked away.
"There was a fair amount of assets piled up in that gambling den. How about cutting me in on a little of it?"
Whether Cantares acknowledged him or not, Arendt just kept grinning, shameless as ever. Cantares dragged a hand down his face and let out a long sigh.
"There's highway robbery, and then there's you."
"Highway robbery? I'm not asking for it for free. Do you have any idea how much money I spent infiltrating that den?"
"......"
"Tack on a modest labor fee for the trouble, and I'll accept it without complaint."
"You've got a real gift for dressing up 'shut up and hand it over' in pretty words."
Then Cantares let out a groan.
"Damn it. The den's funds are all being recovered into the national treasury. I can't touch imperial funds."
"I'm well aware. So pay me out of your own pocket. It's not as though I'm demanding embezzled money."
"You rotten brat. I knew you'd say that."
"Oh, and one more thing."
At Arendt's addition, Cantares's brow creased slightly.
"Now what?"
"Nothing earth-shattering. Do you happen to need extra hands around the palace?"
"Hands?"
Even as Cantares repeated the word in puzzlement, Arendt fired back his answer without a hint of embarrassment.
"Taking on two more servants wouldn't be any burden at all, would it?"
"...You want me to hire new servants?"
Cantares paused, as if weighing it for a moment, then burst out with a short laugh.
"Fine. Hiring servants isn't normally my business, but I can abuse my authority to that extent easily enough. I have a rough idea why you're asking, too. Enoch and Rosie, was it?"
They were the children rescued from the gambling den. With nowhere else to go, the two had followed the returning knights all the way to the palace — but living with their father was no longer possible for the time being.
During the investigation into the father, his past crimes had come to light, and he would be spending a stretch of time behind bars.
"I should give the head servant instructions to look after them properly. Mention that they're children Sir Arendt — famous far and wide for being prickly — has taken an interest in. And add that anyone who looks down on them for being common-born will live to regret it."
"Now that's a great idea."
The remark dripped with the intent to tease, but Arendt only shrugged, perfectly unbothered. Annoyed by the dull reaction, Cantares clicked his tongue.
"For that 'labor fee' you mentioned, I'll issue you a promissory note instead of goods. Zereon will bring it to you shortly. And this, too."
Cantares's finger tapped lightly on Lumiel's report.
"I'll have a copy made and delivered to Commander Laios, so go over it with your commander. That settles all accounts. No complaints?"
He had wrung a substantial sum out of the Crown Prince, resolved the problems within the temple, and extracted the information he'd wanted from Priestess Lumiel besides.
It could not have been more perfect.
Arendt flashed a wide smile and nodded.
"Clean and tidy. I like it."
"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're absolutely delighted."
Cantares grumbled sulkily, his allowance picked clean to the bone — but that, of course, was none of Arendt's concern.