Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: Minster Kingdom (1)
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The prison as summer approached.
The sun hung high in the midday sky, warming the air.
In the cafeteria, after mealtime had ended, three people unusually lingered.
"Eat up."
On the table sat a fragrant apple pie, steam rising gently, its glossy surface promising deliciousness.
But Damas, seated across from her, hesitated to reach for it.
The one offering the pie was none other than the Red Saintess, who had brainwashed hundreds of humans.
"Um... Saintess, why did you suddenly call for me...?"
The blond man had returned after his trial.
Soon to be released, he had neatly groomed his hair for the first time in ages.
"Just eat it first."
"Yes... ma'am."
Was it Anje's grave expression?
Damas obediently took a bite of the pie.
It was undeniably tasty, going down smoothly.
"Nom nom..."
Beside the saintess sat a girl with verdant hair.
Not truly a girl, but an entity in that form.
"Why are you here?"
"Thy expression reminded me of an old witch friend, so I came to see."
True Ancestor Franca munched on her snack, pointing at Anje's icy blank stare.
The silver-haired saintess shot back with a glare straight out of a great witch's playbook.
"Wanna die? I'll coffin you up and bury you in the mantle myself?"
"Eek..."
Crumbs fell from her plump cheeks.
Still, her presence lightened the mood, and Damas mustered the courage to ask.
"Th-that said... thank you for the pie, but what did you need me for?"
"Something very serious."
"You do look it. Your face seems really troubled."
"......"
For a moment, the only sound in the cafeteria was the True Ancestor's munching.
Breaking the silence came an utterly absurd question.
"What usually makes men happy?"
"Pardon?"
The tension snapped like a cut string; Damas blinked blankly.
Anje crossed her arms alone and emphasized.
"Exactly what I said."
"Well... usually money, honor... and women, I suppose."
Anje pondered the words of the man who had been popular at the academy.
Money? Myoran had brought plenty.
Honor? The Princess was planning to grant it.
And in exchange, one had taken her dress shirt, the other her engagement ring.
'Come to think of it, I haven't received anything.'
During the Holy See raid, she had only helped them.
Of course, she had timed it to regain her strength and subdued them all in turn.
But ultimately, she remained unwelcome to the warden.
"Hah... it's ridiculous. Why am I even agonizing over this?"
Anje was exasperated.
She had never fawned over anyone before, so why was she scheming like this now?
'According to scripture, he and I are destined to unite. Yet...'
Why this nagging unease?
Was it a trial from the omniscient god?
If it truly was, she must overcome it herself.
And overcoming meant claiming the Prophet by defeating that vixen and lioness.
"The Princess and that brat are a joke. They used to avoid men like the plague, and now..."
Anje's eyes flashed with thoughts of sparking a civil war.
Sensing the danger, Damas broke into a cold sweat.
"Hey."
"Yes...?"
"How's my appearance?"
"Beautiful, of course."
The blond man answered obediently.
"Be specific. You were popular at the academy, right? Better than the women there?"
"Yes. Honestly, you don't have the aura of an ordinary human."
She was the pinnacle of beauty selected from hundreds of thousands in the Holy See.
Damas had no reason to lie.
"Then it's not my looks. The Prophet has peculiar tastes?"
"Derek is a bit unusual. Like all romantic feelings were surgically removed."
Franca chuckled at their grave conversation.
"As if. Men can't live without women, after all."
"So it is my problem?"
Franca bobbed her head with a grin at Anje's question.
"Think about it. No matter how beautiful, who would grasp a rose riddled with thorns?"
The True Ancestor's objective assessment of Anje.
A being over 200 years old spared no harsh truths.
"And those thorns are stained with bloodstains everywhere. Most suspicious."
She reverted to her mature, vampiric queen gaze.
Franca peered at Anje's face with her pink eyes that pierced all things.
"Thou art like a parasitic plant luring prey."
"......"
Damas covered his mouth with his fist upon hearing the True Ancestor's weighty words.
A chilling divine power had flickered from the Red Saintess.
"Phew... enough. I won't be swayed by some otherworldly entity's tongue."
Thankfully, Anje quickly regained her composure.
As if inwardly agreeing.
'Makes sense why he only shows those expressions to Eri.'
Anje knew it too.
Meeting him steadily as Eri would advance their bond.
However, Eri was a lady from afar.
A remote prison warden lacked excuses to meet often.
Thus, he had to rely on her, sharing the same space.
She needed achievements surpassing Myoran and the Princess.
And Anje had more than enough ability for that.
"Guess I'll have to split the North and found a new kingdom after all."
As the protagonist of the first catastrophe.
She wielded the authority to reshape the world at will.
"That should satisfy the Prophet."
Damas watched the saintess's mutter with tension.
Pouring orange juice for the True Ancestor.
"Hey, you're spilling everywhere!"
"Sorry."
"......"
Meanwhile, in the warden's office.
I sat at the desk, deep in serious thought.
Growing closer to Bakar Kingdom may further decrease Imperial Favorability.
"The Holy See makes sense. I've smashed them multiple times."
I had no intention of cozying up to them anyway.
Even in past rounds, I'd only wrecked them repeatedly.
"The issues are the Empire, nobles, and Bakar..."
The warden's office was utterly peaceful, but public opinion of me seemed stingy.
The Empire especially—what was their deal?
'No one who should hate me that much.'
I maintained good relations with sister Camillia, and at the recent banquet, the imperial family had started trusting me.
So who was wary enough to dock 60 favorability points?
'Probably Prince Ivan.'
I'd flatly rejected his invitation, bruising his pride.
But he wasn't the type to hate me over that.
Ivan fell short as emperor due to weak combat command.
He failed only because rebellions coincided with the apocalypse.
Personality-wise, he was a manly fellow.
'I'll mull this slowly. Figure out who's secretly hating me...'
Next, the Walter Group.
They'd unofficially pegged me as the vault heist culprit.
Though partly my fault for not controlling Myoran.
Who on this continent could stop her anyway?
'Where the hell did she spend all that stolen gold...?'
I'll summon and check her later.
Right now, Bakar Kingdom mattered most.
"Haa..."
Bakar Kingdom.
Once bound tightly to the Empire through an imperial envoy's marriage to their princess.
But time rusts all things.
Now, after 200 years, odd currents flowed between Bakar and the Empire.
Bakar had grown ambitious, dipping into ventures and diplomacy.
The expanding kingdom wanted influence everywhere but bumped against the Empire's wall.
Even sheltering the Empire's ousted Prince Edin.
But with his death, no more need to tread lightly.
Bigger now, they eyed the Empire boldly.
To avoid backlash, they courted Empire nobles and influencers.
Why... me, of all people!!
I rubbed my forehead, staring at the letter on my desk.
'Anyone can tell this is from Bakar's king.'
A deep shadow fell over my face.
Making me look like a traitor scheming to carve up territory.
In Clea's eyes, as she stirred my coffee.
"It's fine, Warden. People follow whoever pays more."
"That's not it. Someone might think I'm actually a traitor."
"Your face already screams Northern warlord."
"Just pondering how to refuse."
Bakar's King Barhan X.
From memory, direct descendant of Christina, the finest queen.
Resembling her son Beck, famed for overwhelming martial prowess.
Rumored best spearman in the North.
Hence repeated marriage talks with Empire's top spear, Camillia.
But extreme personality clash limited it to a few teas.
"Barhan X is a massive schemer. Associating with him could brand me a traitor in imperial eyes."
"True. Rumors say he might proclaim the Bakar Empire soon."
Two empires on one continent never ended well.
Proven by my world's history.
"Sending a personal letter means he wants to meet. Can't imagine sister Camillia's face if I do."
"If suspicion's inevitable, switching sides isn't bad."
Clea offered pragmatic advice.
Imperial secretary origins aside, she respected my choices.
"Barhan X spares no favors for followers. Even forgave once a suspicious one."
"That's what scares me. A talent like that next door threatens the Empire."
"Sometimes you worry for the Empire as much as the royals."
"......"
The Empire must endure to avert continental doom.
I'm not patriotically devoted.
If I could, I'd ditch it all for a cozy solo estate kingdom.
"Even if you defect, I won't resent you."
"You talk like I've already left, Vice Warden..."
"I'd just follow you."
"Words alone mean a lot."
Clea smirked, setting down the coffee.
I sipped, carefully opening the letter.
And squeezed my eyes shut at the contents.
The foreign king most wary in the Empire.
Coming personally to our tiny remote prison.
But the vertigo didn't end there.
I'd never met Barhan X.
Yet he dangled this sweet offer, knowing my deepest wish.
As if someone had whispered it in secret.
'What? How does he know my dream...?'
Like a startled snake, I widened my eyes and stood.
Rushed to the window, watching Bakar's envoy depart.
"Kingdom? I meant a modest manor to live alone."
No odd signs on the envoy.
He left quietly under executive escort.
His eyes blood-red, as if entranced.
"Ahem—wonder how to design the flag."
Another watched the departing envoy besides me.
"Silver hatchling it is, probably."
The silver-haired saintess sketched on paper in her cell.
Drawing a flag and nation name she'd never seen.
A silver dragon rearing its head proudly, roaring fiercely.