Faith 2
After parting ways with Licht at the south gate of Bailen.
"It's a bit late to say this now, but... was that really the best choice?"
In Millein's room, the mage Jamel—cloaked in his robe—asked him.
"His Lordship gave his word, so we wait quietly."
"Still..."
"There are no other options. It's truly pathetic... entrusting our lives to a noble we've only just met and sitting idle."
There were no options. Literally none.
Since returning to the family, Millein had stayed holed up like a mouse, just as Licht instructed. He rarely left his room—once or twice a day at most. His meals came three times daily, delivered by a servant. Thanks to this, the Alder retainers hadn't seen his face for days.
At first, he even suspected the food, but soon dismissed it. The timing wasn't right for poisoning him now. With Grand Duke Alder bedridden from illness, and no mishap outside the family, assassinating the second son—an illegitimate one at that—would stir up noise. Unlike the factions favorable to the eldest son, this would draw complaints.
And his half-brother Jeron despised such variables.
Just stay out of sight as much as possible. No telling how long it'll take...
The uncertainty bred impatience. Cooped up in his room, he had no clear sense of events outside.
Noticing his unease, Del offered comfort. "Don't worry too much, my lord. What could possibly go wrong?"
Somber-faced Jamel took the cue. "More importantly, I can't fathom how we'll turn the tables. Not that I doubt him, but... this isn't about raw power. To drag out the eldest son without directly challenging the Alder family, we'll need some pretext..."
"We already have one."
"We do...? Sir Del, you don't mean—"
"I don't believe the Grand Duke's collapse was coincidence."
"......!"
Jamel clamped his mouth shut, stunned. A suspicion lurking in everyone's mind, but too dangerous to voice.
Del glanced at the firmly shut door before continuing. "The timing's too perfect. The once-vigorous Grand Duke drops overnight? The eldest son didn't even flinch—he acted like he knew it was coming. They've clashed over succession before; everyone in the family knows it."
Jamel whipped his head around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Sir Del, lower your voice. If someone hears—"
"No one's around. I've checked. Besides, who would come here...?"
Del trailed off abruptly, eyes snapping to the door.
"...Sir Del?"
Knock knock.
Millein froze mid-call. A knock from outside.
"Millein."
"...Sister?"
"I have something to discuss. May I come in?"
Before he could reply, the door swung open. A woman entered, escort in tow.
"Sister."
"Sorry about this. It won't take long."
Rene Alder, the eldest daughter of Alder Duchy and his half-sister. Jamel stood with undisguised irritation, but she sat naturally. Her apology rang hollow.
Millein inwardly sighed at the escort standing rigidly behind her.
If the roles were reversed...
If he'd barged into her room uninvited? She'd have called the guards instantly. Yet here, Millein couldn't utter a word of protest. Not against the eldest son Jeron, nor even Rene's rudeness. That was his position—his reality.
Confirming Del and Jamel behind Millein, she nodded faintly. "I've come to offer advice."
"...Advice?"
"Millein."
Rene drew a deep breath, face grave. "Leave the family."
"......!"
Del and Jamel's faces twisted visibly. Millein didn't hide his displeasure. "Leave the family...?"
"......"
"You barge in without permission, and now this exceeds all rudeness."
"It's for your sake. You know that."
"If that's all you came to say, leave."
"...You'll stay in the family?"
"It's my choice. You're in no position to dictate."
"Father has days left at most."
Millein's eyes flickered at her final words. "Days left? What do you—"
"Exactly that. Father... Grand Duke Alder may pass soon."
Her expression unchanged as she spoke of her own father's peril—like discussing a stranger. Something boiled in Millein.
"Once he does, as you know, Jeron will inherit the Grand Duchy."
"......"
"I can't guarantee your life then. Your illegitimate status will remain a thorn, even after he secures the title. Others might ignore it, but he won't tolerate even that sliver of possibility."
She fell silent, done. Millein looked up from the table. "In other words... if I want to live, get out now?"
"If you understand, this is swift. I've prepared everything. If you wish, you can leave today..."
"No need."
Millein cut her off without hesitation.
Rene sighed deeply. "You just won't listen."
"Is that all?"
"It's about your life."
"So, leave and I'll live?"
"Leave Alder Duchy. South, north—anywhere Jeron's reach doesn't extend..."
"Impossible."
Rene's stoic mask cracked for the first time. "Leave the family? And live? Didn't you just say he wants every possibility erased?"
"......"
"You think I'd walk out alive? You know that. My little brother nearly died at the family knights' hands not long ago."
That 'preparation' of yours? It's not for escape—it's to kill me.
Millein added silently. Rene said nothing. He ignored the escort's sharp glare. Del and Jamel met it with equal steel from behind.
"...Foolish. My final consideration for my only brother."
Rene shook her head pityingly. "Because of that mercenary?"
"......"
"Did you know from the start, or just lucky? He killed Sir Werner, so he's skilled... but a baseborn cur remains a cur."
"Don't defile my benefactor with that filthy mouth."
"You know what mercenaries are. They kill for coin without hesitation. Born low, through and through. He might've saved you then, but would that scum gladly die for you?"
Millein swallowed a retort.
No point arguing.
His half-sister was like that. Nobles as absolute good, all beneath utterly scorned. An illegitimate like him had no voice; Jeron's firm grip amplified it.
Rene rose slowly. "Once Father passes, nobles and dignitaries from nearby families and states will flock here."
"......"
"To confirm Alder Duchy's heir."
"Leave."
Millein said without looking. As Rene turned to go—
"You won't always be so smug."
He spoke to her back. She glanced over, meeting his resolute gaze. Unyielding. She smiled faintly.
"Final advice: don't trust that mercenary too much."
"......"
"If he dies, your despair would be unimaginable."
"What...?"
"Archbishop Sernos will move personally."
The door opened and closed slowly. Through the fading gap, she muttered, "No matter how skilled... he can't beat an Executioner."
***
"Ugh, urgh...!"
"Guh...!"
Thud.
Two priests in black cassocks rolled their eyes back and collapsed. Choked unconscious.
The hulking man and slender one who'd done it exchanged mutters.
"No heaven for them."
"Jack, you've got sins aplenty already. No need to fret now."
"Killing bandits is one thing—this? Never thought I'd lay hands on Palenian priests."
Darkness everywhere. Bailen Cathedral at the city's heart. Its vast grounds. Priests patrolled nightly in shifts.
Jack and Ranin had just felled two with their own hands.
"You can head back now."
"No, it's fine. My knowledge might help if we find a clue."
"Punk, acting all high and mighty. You were shaking like a leaf yesterday prepping."
Clunk.
The dropped lantern flickered out soon after. Held by the patrolling priests.
Licht, Jack, and Ranin moved silently through the shadows. In the sleeping city, only wind through grass.
Before the cathedral—
Grrrind.
The massive doors barring entry creaked open. No touch needed—just mana stirred by will.
Absurd. But Jack and Ranin weren't fazed; too many wonders seen.
Doors fully open, the trio entered the nave.
"Whoa..."
"The cathedral at night feels entirely different."
A colossal space. Opulent yet austere. Moonlight bathed the densely carved stained glass walls. Rows of seats flanked white pillars. A straight beam of pale moonlight lit the central nave below.
One light source, yet no gloom. Sacred, instead. The night cathedral evoked dreamlike allure over eeriness.
"The reliquary beneath the cathedral. Underground crypt for saints' relics..."
"Sounds familiar. Problem's the entrance... Lord Licht, any idea where?"
Jack and Ranin turned. Licht stood still, eyes closed.
Below.
He hadn't known on his first visit. But eyes shut, focus inward, mana spread downward—it sensed the void clearly.
And if I'm right...
He might sweep away Archbishop Sernos and the eldest prince's faction in one go.
"Found it."
"Where?"
Licht ignored Ranin, striding silently to the nave's front.
"Here...?"
A semicircular alcove. Stained glass everywhere. Faint moonlight gleamed on the Isteria goddess statue atop the dais.
"Doesn't look like an entrance. Hallucinating or...? Hey!"
Licht ascended the dais. Ascension Sword gleamed in his right hand, white mana coiling golden blade.
"Wait!"
BOOM!
The goddess statue shattered like an explosion.