DGDITMIAE 24

Chapter 24

Of course, Isolric had expected to hear such words.

But when he arrived in the North and heard that the Okket tribe had fled to the border, he couldn’t avoid responsibility either way. If he had turned back without acting, the Pope would have raged at him for failing to carry out the single order to judge the heretics. And if he pushed forward and crossed into the border, it was only natural that knights with little real combat experience would die or be injured.

The bigger problem—if it could be called a problem—was that without the help of the Inyument Grand Duke, they would have been completely annihilated.

Either way, what Isolric had to say was already decided.

“The Okket tribe has been judged without exception and sent back to God’s embrace. There were no other orders from Your Holiness, but the casualties and injuries within the knight order are a deeply shameful matter for me as the commander—”

“A shameful matter?”

*Hmph. If I say one wrong word, he’ll throw things and rage at me right here.*

Isolric glanced at the Pope, who was glaring at him with sharp eyes, and took a moment to organize his thoughts.

*Ask for punishment? That won’t be enough to quell his anger.*

*Well, this is troublesome. I can’t just tell him to beat me as he pleases in front of all the knights…*

Isolric, who had been standing with his hands behind his back blinking silently, furrowed his brow slightly at the figure that came to mind again in that instant.

*Why does she keep coming to mind so incessantly, leaving such a strong impression?*

*Once rejected, one ought to know when to give up.*

But since the reason had been so absurdly incomprehensible, he couldn’t help but keep thinking about it.

—

“Holy Knight is absolutely out of the question.”

—

The reason she had refused him with that pale face was simply because he was a ‘Holy Knight.’

Of course, there was clearly some falsehood mixed in… but if Holy Knight was out of the question, then…

“If it’s shameful, then please excommunicate me.”

It was a sudden thought, but it turned out to be a rather decent answer.

After all, the Pope’s face—jaw-droppingly astonished as he stared at him—was quite worth seeing.

*Well, it takes at least this much to shock the Pope into speechlessness, doesn’t it?*

“…Ex-excommunication?”

For a Holy Knight, excommunication is a disgrace worse than death.

The Pope, who understood its weight, could no longer throw a tantrum. Swallowing his anger, he slumped back into his seat.

Then, as if he didn’t want to say another word, he covered his face with one hand and let out a long sigh, while waving the other hand dismissively.

“Enough. Withdraw. Sir Yennier, you are confined to quarters for fifteen days. The remaining knights who need treatment shall focus on their recovery. Sir Calahan, you will report the list of deceased knights separately in place of Sir Yennier.”

“…May God’s warmth be with Your Holiness.”

Isolric, unable to hide his boredom, slowly opened his blue eyes and murmured.

Whether the Pope stared at him with a dumbfounded expression or not, he left the place and headed toward the knight order’s quarters.

He too knew that excommunication would never actually happen.

After all, he was the Pope’s dog and a useful tool—excommunicating him over something like this would be quite far from what the Pope called his ‘investment.’

And so Isolric spent his confinement cooped up in his quarters and the training grounds.

Even though he spent his time swinging his sword just as he always did, his mind often wandered elsewhere.

*That movement. That motion without a single wasted gesture. That heavy center of gravity that made the sword tip not waver in the slightest.*

No matter how many times he recalled what he had seen and swung his sword, cutting again and again… he simply could not replicate it.

All that came to mind was the image of Terestia Inyument he had faced that day, in that moment.

Isolric thought about the feeling that came to mind when he recalled Terestia, and concluded it very simply and lightly.

*I must have fallen for her…*

Wasn’t this the kind of feeling the world called love?

Anyway, whenever he thought of that woman, his heart raced and he felt excited, so he supposed it was roughly love.

If only he could match her in martial prowess just once before he died…

If only he could reach that perfect movement himself…

With a rather lukewarm expression for someone supposedly in love, Isolric swung his wooden sword down into the empty air once more.

*No, the tip wavered slightly again this time.*

*At this rate, I’m far too inadequate to catch up to Terestia Inyument.*

It was at that moment, as he whipped himself and caught his breath—

“Sir Isolric Yennier.”

At the voice that rang through the quiet training grounds of the Holy Knights, he halted.

Slowly lowering his wooden sword and turning around, an unfamiliar figure was looking at him.

The gaze—like one observing a highly interesting work of art—was irritating, but when he showed no reaction, the figure seemed to come to their senses and spoke belatedly.

“Oh my, I apologize for the rudeness of not greeting you properly. I am Vladia Opius, serving Her Majesty the Empress Dowager.”

As long as Isolric lived in the Pavellon Empire, even if he didn’t know the name Vladia, he couldn’t be unfamiliar with the surname Opius.

A person of the Opius Ducal House, which had long been in seclusion behind a veil of secrecy…

At the courteous greeting from the masked woman, Isolric slowly set his wooden sword down in its place.

“I understand that the confinement ordered by His Holiness the Pope will end soon. I have come to ask if you could spare some time after that.”

“…”

He had a gut feeling that he was getting caught up in something terribly troublesome.

*What did she say? That she serves Her Majesty the Empress Dowager? Then she must be the Empress Dowager’s handmaiden.*

*If the Empress Dowager, who has never shown any interest in the Holy See, suddenly seeks me out, the reason is clearly—*

“Is it because of the Grand Duke Inyument?”

“My, you’re quite perceptive.”

The lips revealed beneath the mask curved up gently, but Isolric still felt uneasy.

It was well known throughout the empire that the Empress Dowager and the Grand Duke Inyument had a poor relationship and had been in constant opposition.

Since the Grand Duke Inyument had disappeared as if fleeing to her domain, the capital had been quiet for a while. But by chance, he had met that very Grand Duke Inyument.

It wasn’t strange that the Empress Dowager would take an interest in him, but there was something else that made Isolric even more uncomfortable.

“I thought it was strange that the rumors about Sir Yennier were spreading so oddly. As expected, my intuition wasn’t wrong.”

“…Are you referring to the rumors?”

“Yes, the rather embarrassing rumor that you even requested excommunication because you wanted to become the Grand Duke Inyument’s knight.”

“…”

Isolric, unable to even begin thinking about where to set straight the bizarre rumors that had spread during his confinement, kept his mouth shut—neither denying nor affirming.

—

For that reason, the first move of the Holy Knights’ commander, Isolric Yennier—who had been the hottest topic in the capital—after his confinement ended, was to the imperial palace.

In his head, he had already decided all the answers to the questions the Empress Dowager would ask.

*I don’t know, I don’t remember, I’m not interested…*

His life was already exhausting with too many things to worry about—he had no desire to add political entanglement on top of it.

“This way. You may enter straight through.”

The courteous guidance from the Empress Dowager’s handmaiden felt oddly uncomfortable somewhere.

*No. This is rather because of the strange atmosphere and the silence that fell around the moment I entered the Empress Dowager’s palace.*

With sharpened senses, he glanced briefly at the handmaiden before stepping inside.

“Welcome, Sir Yennier.”

A voice too stiff to be called a greeting.

Inside the angular, orderly palace, where it was hard to even draw a single breath, the Empress Dowager wore a faint smile.

Her straight back, with not a single gap, and her hair pinned up without allowing a single strand out of place, revealed her temperament.

As he fully entered, the suffocating tightness around his neck left Isolric standing blankly. It was only when the Empress Dowager set down her teacup that he finally snapped back to his senses.

“…Ah, I greet Her Majesty the Empress Dowager. I am Isolric Yennier.”

It seemed that many embellishments were needed in front of her, but in any case, that was the best Isolric could do.

Having heard she was strict about etiquette, he unconsciously put strength into his waist and the tip of his chin.

He had no desire to come all the way here just to hear people whisper that he was the son of a brothel keeper.