While Ghislain was meeting nobles and attending to various tasks, the northern army waited near the capital.
The members of the northern army, who had been separated from the Fenris mobile corps, finally met Parniel.
Everyone was overwhelmed by her massive stature and commanding presence.
Alpoi, staring blankly for a long time, finally asked,
"Is this... a saintess? Not a giant?"
It was an extremely rude remark, but no one minded. He was always an insolent guy anyway.
Parniel simply looked at Alpoi with indifference. She was used to such reactions.
Claude, who had a little more sense, jabbed Alpoi in the side.
"Hey, why are you poking me! It doesn't make sense! A saintess shouldn't look like this!"
Apparently, the image of a saintess in Alpoi's mind didn't align with reality.
Grabbing Piote by the wrist, Alpoi dragged him over.
"Hey, what's this about!"
Even as Piote protested, Alpoi forcibly stood him next to Parniel.
"Hmm ...."
Everyone folded their arms and watched the two.
Piote, blushing with embarrassment, was a stark contrast to Parniel, whose expression remained indifferent.
It was clear—Piote appeared more feminine.
"Pwahahahaha!"
"Pwahahahaha!"
Alpoi burst into laughter as he looked at Piote, clutching his stomach. Claude couldn't hold back and joined in the laughter.
Both of them loved teasing Piote, and this was just too much to resist.
After laughing heartily, Alpoi suddenly pointed at Piote and shouted, "This guy's the saintess!"
"....."
The room fell silent. Even Claude immediately straightened his face and shut his mouth. Alpoi had crossed the line, and the atmosphere turned tense.
But Alpoi kept provoking.
"Look at him! He's prettier, more delicate! From now on, Piote is the saintess!"
On appearances alone, Alpoi had a point. Piote's delicate build and shy, blushing face made him seem more traditionally feminine.
Still, to say such things in front of the real saintess was outrageous.
Everyone stayed quiet, sensing it would be unwise to agree with Alpoi.
"Why's everyone silent? You know I'm right!"
Even as Alpoi continued his provocation, Parniel ignored him. Her composure wasn't shallow enough to react to such nonsense.
In fact, she found Alpoi's antics amusing, perhaps because it had been a while since she'd encountered someone so audacious.
Her attention was instead drawn to the strong holy power emanating from the priest next to her.
"I am Parniel, serving Goddess Moriana. I sense extraordinary holy power in you."
"I am Piote, serving Goddess Juana. It's an honor to meet you, Saintess."
The two exchanged awkward greetings, which Alpoi quickly mocked.
"From today, Piote's also a saintess! As the 'Man Who Defeated a Goddess,' I hereby appoint him!"
For the first time, Parniel turned her head sharply. There was something she couldn't ignore in what she had just heard.
Thud.
As she stepped forward, a chilling aura spread. Everyone instinctively took a step back.
"What did you just say?"
Alpoi flinched but refused to back down in this battle of wills, shouting,
"I said he's a saintess too!"
"Not that."
"Th-The 'Man Who Defeated a Goddess'?"
"Impudent bastard."
Thud!
Parniel stepped closer and raised her fist. She intended only to give him a light smack, considering they were on the same side, but to everyone watching, it didn't look that way.
Her massive fist came down from above. It looked like a blow that could be fatal.
"S-Shield!"
Alpoi, skilled at mana manipulation, swiftly conjured five overlapping shields above his head.
But his opponent wasn't ordinary.
Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack!
The shields shattered mercilessly, and Parniel's fist struck Alpoi squarely on the crown of his head.
Thud!
"Oof!"
With a heavy thud, Alpoi's face contorted hideously as twin streams of blood burst from his nose. He passed out instantly.
"Wow..."
The crowd couldn't help but exclaim in awe.
People often forgot, due to his annoying personality, that Alpoi was a 5th-circle mage, comparable to an elder of a magic tower.
Though his repertoire of spells wasn't vast, his practical combat experience was second to none.
And yet, he had been knocked out with a single flick of Parniel's fist.
Indeed, she was a saintess(?). No one could even guess how strong she was.
Belinda sighed, shook her head, and dragged Alpoi's unconscious body away.
"Ugh, when will this kid ever grow up."
She had always thought he was a handful. Not since Ghislain's childhood had she dealt with someone so troublesome... no, with Claude and Kaor around, there were plenty.
Erenes chuckled softly as she watched Alpoi being dragged away. There was something oddly satisfying about it.
Then she froze, startled.
'Wait, did I just laugh?'
How could this be? She, who had always lived with dignity, suppressing her emotions, had laughed at such a fool!
Quickly regaining her composure, Erenes felt a sting to her pride.
Unfortunately for her, Claude had noticed and teased her immediately.
"Oh! The Grand Chieftain laughed!"
"I did not."
"You just did! I saw it! You found that funny? Is it because life in the forest is so dull? Even that's funny to you? What's your laughter resistance, huh? Pwahahaha!"
The atmosphere turned icy. Wendy promptly covered Claude's mouth.
"...."
Erenes shot a frosty glare at Claude, who quickly retreated with his tail between his legs.
"Must've been my imagination."
Claude averted his gaze. He had no desire to keep provoking her and end up like Alpoi.
At least in terms of reading the room, Claude was better than Alpoi.
After introducing their new ally, the northern army caused some minor(?) commotion before settling down near the capital for a few days.
Ghislain was busy participating in the reorganization of the kingdom's army and the allied forces.
Though their numbers had significantly dwindled, the battles had yielded nearly 50,000 prisoners of war.
Integrating them into the existing forces and reorganizing the units took time. It was several days before the meetings concluded.
"Thank you for waiting. Now, let's get moving."
At Ghislain's words, Claude asked, "What's the plan?"
"As soon as the kingdom's forces are reorganized, we'll join the allied forces to press the southern region. It'll take time, but we need to do it right."
Moving and reorganizing soldiers naturally took time. They couldn't afford to hastily reshuffle the forces.
The northern army planned to rest, receive supplies, and conduct maintenance while holding key positions.
With a sly grin, Ghislain added, "Once everything's ready, we'll launch a simultaneous advance into the south. Tell the western forces to prepare as well. Until then, let's rest properly."
No army had fought as tirelessly as the northern forces. After so many battles, it was time for them to recuperate and reorganize.
'We're almost there.'
This was different from his previous life. Back then, Ghislain had fought alone. Now, he had countless allies by his side.
Of course, dealing with the Duchy wouldn't be the end. The Salvation Church also had to be eradicated from the continent, and the rifts had to be closed.
But Ghislain was confident.
'It will end soon.'
Yes, it wouldn't be long now. Once their reorganized forces surrounded the south, the Duchy would have no escape.
'This time.... '
A murderous glint shone in Ghislain's eyes.
In his past life, he had failed. There had been too many variables, with hidden threats constantly emerging.
But not this time. He had become the variable for the Duchy, building everything step by step according to his plan.
This time, without fail.
He would claim victory.
***
A dimly lit room, illuminated only by a few candles, shrouded in darkness and silence.
The room was vast and luxurious, but the shadows obscured its splendor.
In the center of the room, a massive bed held a gaunt old man lying still.
"Fenris... Count Fenris, you say...."
The old man spoke in a voice that seemed to teeter on the edge of death.
A middle-aged man standing nearby bowed his head slightly and replied,
"Yes, Your Majesty. That man has completely stopped Duke Delphine's army."
The old man was none other than the King of the Kingdom of Lutania, Berhem Ladran II.
And the man attending to him was the royal chamberlain, Viscount Domont.
Viscount Domont was the person King Berhem trusted and cherished the most. For many years, he had served as the chamberlain, and he was the only one who could engage in conversation with the King.
Unable to move properly, Berhem could only hear about the outside world through Domont.
"Indeed... Every time the royal family is in danger, someone rises to protect it... just like that woman did long ago...."
"Your Majesty...."
The light in Berhem's eyes was far from normal as he spoke, flickering with a madness akin to that of a madman.
"In the end, Count Fenris... isn't he also a man of Marquis Branford... What use are nobles who do not swear loyalty to me...."
"Your Majesty, all of them are loyal to you."
"What nonsense... Marquis Branford wields power arbitrarily, excluding me… How can you call him a loyal subject... He's merely the successor chosen by that woman...."
Lying there, Berhem continued muttering unintelligible curses.
Domont said nothing. He understood the King's resentment.
From a young age, Berhem had been frail, unable to properly govern. As he aged, his physical limitations only grew, warping his personality into something bitter and twisted.
With all power concentrated in the hands of Marquis Branford, his frustration had only deepened.
But what could be done? Entrusting governance to a bedridden King waiting for death was not an option.
As Berhem mumbled to himself, he suddenly gripped Domont's hand tightly and spoke,
"You and the commander of the royal knights are the only ones I trust... No one else... You are my only loyal subjects...."
There were only two people who stayed by the King's side, so this was only natural. Domont looked at Berhem with a gaze full of pity.
Despite being born a king, Berhem had never truly wielded power. His frailty had left him incapable of accomplishing anything.
With a hollow gaze, Berhem continued muttering.
"Royalists, Ducalists... They fight for power without me… Who are they even fighting for... Tell me, for whom...."
His trembling hands toyed with the necklace around his neck.
It was a simple, unadorned necklace with a small crystal. Entirely unsuitable for a king of a nation.
Still, he handled it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.
"The Delphine Duchy, who helped build this kingdom... I know what they want...."
Domont remained silent, simply listening. He had heard this story hundreds of times.
He was probably the person who knew the royal family's secrets better than anyone else.
Talking to Domont was the King's only solace in life.
Staring at the ceiling, Berhem kept speaking to himself.
"Too many years have passed.... The stories passed down in the royal family and the Duchy... Most of them are forgotten now... The promises between the two families, forgotten... Forgotten along with the roots...."
His rambling continued with little coherence, much of it incomprehensible. But Domont didn't ask for clarification.
After all, one could say the King was half mad.
At first, listening to his madness daily had been exhausting. But now, it didn't bother Domont anymore.
Yet today, something different came from Berhem's lips.
"The Salvation Church... was it? Those who move with the Duchy...."
"Yes, that is correct."
"They say even if their bodies are severed... or injured... they recover quickly...."
"Yes, they possess such power, making them incredibly difficult to kill."
"And yet... they were declared heretics...."
"Yes, by the Four Great Churches and Marquis Branford...."
"These fools... How dare they... without my consent...."
Berhem began trembling violently mid-sentence. Domont quickly grasped his hand and said,
"Your Majesty, please calm your heart. With a single word from you, all of it can be reversed."
Of course, that wasn't true. In the feudal system of the Lutania Kingdom, even a king's power had limits.
And with the Four Great Churches involved, how could the King's words alone overturn their decision?
Domont knew this well but lied to soothe Berhem.
After a while, Berhem, still heaving with anger, spoke softly.
"I envy the priests of the Salvation Church... They say they don't die as long as their heads remain intact... To have such power...."
"Your Majesty...."
It was an ability Berhem could indeed envy. To him, the fact that the Salvation Church was labeled heretical mattered little.
What difference did it make to a man who could die at any moment?
Berhem suddenly fell silent. After a moment of contemplation, he gripped Domont's hand tightly and spoke.
"I have a request for you...."
"A request, Your Majesty? It's an honor. Please command me."
"Promise me you'll fulfill it...."
"I will stake my life on it."
Berhem held Domont's hand tightly, forcing out his words. His eyes burned with an inexplicable desire.
"Bring me... one of the priests of the Salvation Church... Someone with that power... I want to possess it...."
Domont's face stiffened. The King was making an incredibly dangerous request.
Bringing a priest of the Salvation Church was already a daunting task. Even if he succeeded, Marquis Branford would never allow the King to meet such a person.
If caught, Domont would surely be executed.
But it wasn't impossible. He only needed to persuade one person.
Loyal to the end, Domont wanted to grant the King's wish.
For a man who had lived such a pitiful life.
"I will carry out your command... without fail."
Domont rose from his seat. His eyes shone with unyielding determination.
[T/L: Please support me and read extra chapters: https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]