Chapter 226
“No, wait—just a moment, please.”
Nerys stopped both Cledwyn and the knight, then looked up at her husband with a slightly annoyed expression.
“What is all this? The Grand Ducal Family’s heirlooms?”
“As if those could be heirlooms. I just collected them one by one whenever I thought of you.”
That many? Even if hundreds of artisans worked every day, they couldn’t create this much in two years… Nerys blinked, then realized.
Cledwyn must have been collecting these jewels long before she ever came to this land.
“If I hadn’t married you, what excuse were you planning to use to give them to me? Were you going to hand them over so I could throw them at you whenever I got angry?”
“That would have been good too. Or I would have begged you to use them to pave the road you walk on.”
“Who does something like that?”
“My wife. If she wanted to.”
Nerys was speechless. Still, she couldn’t scold him for wasting money.
She had known as a consultant, but as the Grand Duchess—now able to see every document related to this land—she understood even more clearly: the Grand Duke of Maindulante was rich. Extremely rich. And he owned several mines that produced the highest-quality jewels.
He could easily gather this much treasure. The wealth of the Moriér Merchant Group, which she had once been so proud of, suddenly felt modest, and Nerys muttered without meaning to.
“What’s in the next room? There aren’t more jewels piled up like this in there too, right?”
“Surely not.”
Ah, thank goodness. Having a lot of jewels wasn’t bad, but this was overwhelming. Nerys let out a quiet sigh of relief.
But when the next room opened, she immediately took it back.
Gold bars gleamed with a deep, reddish glow like the evening sky. Stacked like bricks to fill a room the same size as the previous one, they were a sight one would only hear about in stories.
“This is… the Grand Duchy’s emergency fund?”
“Just this much? I set it aside so you can use it comfortably whenever you want. I’ll refill it when you do.”
He probably would. Nerys’s head throbbed.
Cledwyn kept saying, “Next, next,” like an excited child. It felt like watching an evil dragon’s treasure hoard unfold, room by room. A room filled with the finest silk dyed in Tyrian Purple, a room of gold and silver thread, a room of magical tools…
When the door to the last room opened, Nerys thought she no longer had the strength to be surprised. She was wrong.
What entered her eyes was like a painter’s palette. Thousands of ribbons—different colors, fabrics, widths—lined countless shelves.
Pink, green, white, cream, crimson, ultramarine, sky blue, silver… The shelves were buried in ribbons, all luxurious and meticulously woven.
The largest ribbon wasn’t on a shelf but placed atop a marble side table in the center of the room. A wide purple ribbon wrapped around a box.
Nerys slipped down from Cledwyn’s arms, approached the table, and tugged the ribbon’s end.
The highest-quality satin ribbon fluttered softly as it unraveled. The black velvet box beneath it appeared.
Inside was a delicate, vine-shaped diamond tiara.
Dozens of nail-sized diamonds and hundreds of fine diamonds shimmered with trembling light. Between the vines hung small dogwood-shaped pink conch pearls.
It was the most elaborate piece she had seen today. Estimating its value seemed absurd.
Below the tiara were the words: To my Queen.
“What day is it today?”
Nerys asked quietly.
“It’s the day we got married, live together, and feel happiness. And I sincerely hope tomorrow will be the same.”
Strong arms wrapped around her from behind.
Familiar warmth, yet overwhelming. Nerys covered her face with both hands, unsure what to do.
“Are you crying?”
Nerys wiped her eyes and let out a faint laugh.
“That just means it’s no special day at all.”
“No. It means it’s one of the innumerable special days you’re by my side.”
– ‘If you’re going to be the Crown Princess, you need something special. Your eye’s ability? That would’ve been better given to a manager. I’m tired of your whining, so shut your mouth.’
She had told this man about her boring, pathetic life, but she had never shared the specifics of the married life Abelus had offered her.
She knew that the past had faded and was powerless now—something anyone could understand in their head. But wounds don’t simply vanish.
Even if they eventually heal, the grooves they leave behind remain.
But these words, whispered as if they were nothing…
This warmth holding her…
The weight of his head resting against her neck…
‘It’s not just new flesh.’
It filled her with a happiness as deep as the wound—no, deeper. Enough to make the past feel foolish and irrelevant.
Cledwyn murmured to his beloved wife.
“You don’t have to think too much. I’ve been preparing for a very long time, and they’ll collapse quickly thanks to my wise wife. Rely on me whenever you need. We’re walking the same path now.”
Nerys whispered back, her voice thick, “Yes.”
Cledwyn smiled and drank in her scent.
“Don’t worry about the evidence of the past. If we need to, we can fabricate it. But I doubt we’ll need anything else.”
“Why?”
“Because no one who sees a dragon flying in the sky will ever claim that Bistor killed the Evil Dragon.”
The day the secret chamber where the Power of Pheros sleeps is destroyed will be the day the Imperial Family falls forever.
❖ ❖ ❖
The landscape of the Papal State of Ullevis had changed beyond recognition from a few months ago.
First, the excessive taxes were abolished. Construction on the Mausoleum stopped completely, and all unpaid wages were fully repaid by the Vatican. Aid for believers suffering in severe poverty was carried out widely.
The new leadership avoided explaining exactly where the funds came from, but all citizens of Ullevis knew. That the new Pope, Renus, had confiscated every last coin of former Pope Omnitus’s private wealth and used it entirely for the people.
Omnitus’s illegitimate children protested, but public opinion turned harshly against them. Instead, they were criticized.
People loved the story of the new Pope—a young man who survived as the last member of a fallen family, kept his good heart despite suffering, and finally made a triumphant comeback. Compared to that tale, Omnitus’s children demanding their father’s ill-gotten wealth seemed like mere villains.
Father Adams, who had served Renus since before his enthronement, was appointed treasurer. He aggressively rooted out long-standing corruption and made appointments solely based on merit. Praise poured in for the new Pope who was ushering in a new era.
And that very Pope was now buried in a dusty library. Though calling it a library was generous—it held only two or three bookshelves, an old desk, and an equally old chair.
“Achoo—achoo! Damn it, they should air this place out!”
He cursed, though he knew that was impossible. This was a secret archive where only Popes could enter.
Such spaces existed throughout the Vatican: a bedroom for Popes alone, a vault for Popes alone, a balcony for Popes alone, a hallway for Popes alone… and so on.
But none were as confidential as this tiny, windowless closet. Even the closest aides weren’t allowed inside, much less the cleaners.
Dust seemed to have settled on his pinkish-red curls. Renus brushed his hair and examined the shelf in front of him.
This place was a secret archive because it stored only the most confidential records—things that shouldn’t be shown to anyone, and in some cases, should have been destroyed. But with the Papal State’s long history, such documents had piled up considerably.
What Renus wanted was the oldest record among them. The one Nerys asked him to verify.
Preferably something from 600 years ago.
“I don’t know…”
Even after pulling out several early records, nothing was new. Renus had known most of these secrets already. He had lived in the Papal State as a child, cherished by many elders, allowed into their gatherings, even sneaking into this very room without his esteemed brother noticing.
‘I was young, so I didn’t clean up properly and got caught immediately.’
The letter from Maindulante, written in Nerys’s refined style, hid a shocking implication:
That the tale of the three warriors who defeated the Evil Dragon wasn’t the truth—and that the first Pope of the Timaeus Order had participated in that fabrication.
Not even wandering troupes would perform such an outrageous story. And Nerys was not someone who believed absurd tales without reason.
‘I should at least check.’
If the first Pope had plotted with courageous Bistor to create a false history, as Nerys hinted, there must be records to prove it.
He would have needed leverage over the Bistor family during such chaotic times.
‘He’s exactly that kind of man.’
Though the temple praised the first Pope as a great Saint, those who looked deeper saw only political cunning.
Among his records, little was important enough to be stored here. Renus soon searched all documents from that era, but nothing turned up.
“Ugh, useless.”
He didn’t care about ancient truths. It didn’t matter if the three warriors never existed—as long as it didn’t affect his life.
But Nerys wanted his help.
“Another room?”
It seemed unlikely that documents on such a top-level secret would be anywhere but this archive… Renus turned to leave, then stopped.
Among the early histories of the Timaeus Order were all kinds of filth. Of course, there had also been true Saints. That was why the institution survived.
But something like what Nerys implied would have been the top secret. Something even later Popes shouldn’t know…
Something tugged at his memory. Something he had seen here as a child…
Renus crouched down.
To match the eye level he had back then.
And there—beneath the desk, hidden in a shaded recess adults would never notice—was a wooden chest.
“Oh.”
He crawled under the desk, pulled it out, set it on the table, and opened the lid.
Inside were old, worn papers—enough to make one book—collected over several days, unbound, different sizes and colors.
He had a feeling. And thankfully, the writing was in Divine Language. Slightly older and more complex, but still readable.
‘That means this was written at the very start of the temple’s formation.’
Divine Language hadn’t always existed in its current form. It was a simplified remnant of the ancient language used by the noble races in the age of the Evil Dragon. Around the 3rd Pope, grammar stabilized into its modern structure.
Most people—unless deeply trained in theology—didn’t know such things.
Renus carefully lifted the papers, sat down, and began to read.