Chapter 253

The Papal State of Ullevis was thriving.

Pope Renus was no longer spoken of as the “new Pope” or the “current Pope.” He was simply the Pope. The vitality he brought—through generous relief efforts and by driving out corrupt high-ranking clergy—filled the citizens with joy.

It was a sharp contrast to the reign of the previous Pope, Omnitus.

“Before, they hounded us for donations at every service, but now they tell us to report neighbors in need! Can you believe it? And every Sunday, they open the Lily Palace so anyone can visit His Holiness. Who could’ve imagined that before?”

“He is a person sent by God. Truly a holy man.” The citizens praised Renus in unison. Cultural activities—unthinkable for some time in the smaller local temples due to the economy—were coming back to life as well.

“Did you say ‘Betrayal’? That play is really something.”

“It’s so popular that even the adults at my little sibling’s temple are pooling money to go see it.”

Lately, the most talked-about topic in Ullevis was undoubtedly the play Betrayal.

Set in an age long past, when the Evil Dragon ruled the world, it told the story of a girl with Amethyst Ja’an.

Believing the Evil Dragon was the cause of people’s misery, she set out to defeat it. Along the way, she gained a companion—a handsome man with Gray Ja’an—and together they reached the Evil Dragon. But the Evil Dragon was not the mindless monster she had imagined.

Then appeared the true villain: a human with Azure Ja’an. He proposed that the girl with Amethyst Ja’an and the man with Gray Ja’an join him to defeat the Evil Dragon and split the treasure afterward. In truth, he saw them both as rivals.

Seizing an opening, the human with Azure Ja’an trapped the two of them. Using them as hostages, he summoned the Evil Dragon and defeated it as well. Then, after killing all witnesses, he monopolized the dragon’s treasure—and the title of hero.

It was obvious the story was based on the ancient Three Heroes and the Evil Dragon Kion, even if the details were absurd.

Ullevis was not Imperial territory, but even so, its citizens held a deep-rooted reverence for the Three Heroes. They enjoyed the play, yet felt uneasy at its almost refreshing “distortion.” Still, it was so entertaining that they kept those misgivings to themselves.

Pope Renus—Ren Fayel by birth—was not particularly interested in the play’s success, despite having permitted it and quietly encouraged its spread.

Or rather, he was too busy to spare it a thought.

“We have to excommunicate the Bistor Imperial Family.”

He had been like this every day since he learned the Imperial Family had declared war on Maindulante. Father Adams could only sigh.

Ren, pacing restlessly around the study, burst out in indignation.

“Why? What? Just look at what those bastards are doing! How dare they!”

It was a ridiculous complaint. “How dare they”—as though the Imperial Family, his own liege, were doing something outrageous by punishing Maindulante, their subject.

But had Ren ever been rational when it came to Nerys?

From being the sole survivor of a ruined family and an unpopular student to becoming the youngest Pope, Father Adams had watched Ren’s every step. He also knew how clever and resourceful the young man’s gentle face concealed him to be.

Yet when it involved the Grand Duchess, he changed.

Father Adams knew reasoning with him—when it came to her—was pointless. So he sighed and used the only argument that worked.

“The Grand Duchess wouldn’t want that. Doesn’t she want you to wait for the right moment?”

Ren’s footsteps, circling the study for what felt like the twentieth time, stopped cold. Resentment filled his bright, intelligent eyes.

“Damn it. Did you read Nerys’s letter?”

“She sends it knowing I’ll read it. She knows you need my help.”

That much was true. Besides, all letters to the Pope had to be inspected to screen for poison.

He knew that, yet still felt his privacy had been violated. Ren pouted.

“Damn it. Then answer me, too. I couldn’t figure it out myself. How long do I have to wait? Until Abelus’s troops besiege White Swan Castle?”

It would be the opposite. The Maindulante army was clearly the one pressing forward.

“That won’t happen.”

Father Adams didn’t know Nerys as well as Ren did, but he knew she was formidable. She must have begun this with thorough preparation. She wouldn’t lose without gaining something.

‘No… she might take even more than that.’

The high-ranking priests all understood how presumptuous the implications of Betrayal were, now that it was sweeping Ullevis. And Father Adams also knew it was Nerys who had asked Ren to ensure the play could be performed safely.

He also knew, in broad strokes, what kind of records Ren had taken from the secret archives of the past Popes.

Betrayal was structured as a bitter denunciation of the hypocrisy of the Bistor Imperial Family, yet it completely omitted the story of the first Pope from 600 years ago. The intent—whom to strike at, and whom to clasp hands with—was almost blatant.

There was no reason she would spread the Imperial Family’s secrets so widely merely to amuse the citizens of Ullevis. Especially not by subtly changing names, walking a tightrope between insult and “creative adaptation.”

‘It’s an open provocation.’

Complaints had already begun to rise among the high-ranking priests—that he was bowing too readily to secular power. Because they knew better than anyone how much influence the temple held over people’s minds.

Knock, knock.

As Ren resumed his restless pacing and Father Adams fell into thought, a servant knocked softly and said,

“Your Holiness, an envoy has arrived from the Duke Ganielo family.”

Both Ren and Father Adams widened their eyes. Duke Ganielo? From Bistor?

“Let him in.”

Ren, already back in his gentle, benevolent mask, spoke softly.

The envoy who entered looked wealthy at a glance. Expensive fabrics and finely crafted jewels caught the light. The face was faintly familiar to Ren.

Before he could place it, Father Adams lifted his brows.

“Duke Ganielo?”

“Yes. You remember me, Father.”

Duke Ganielo—Edward—greeted him affably. During his Academy days, Father Adams had taught theology while Edward studied political science. They had only met a handful of times, but Edward remembered him well.

“You look healthy. That’s a relief.”

Bistor must be in chaos. If the young Duke had come all the way here, there was something serious to discuss. Ren greeted him, curious what it could be.

Edward’s enrollment had overlapped with Ren’s for a few years. That was why the face felt familiar. The reason Ren hadn’t recognized him right away was simple: Edward looked far healthier now than he had as a sickly student.

“Thank you.”

Father Adams guided Edward to a guest chair. Sitting across from Ren, Edward said, as if tossing the words out casually,

“Actually, I arrived yesterday.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

So what? Ren thought. Unlike the foolish Colin, Edward’s expression and tone were both cautious and probing. He truly seemed to have inherited the Duke’s mind.

“I saw the play.”

“Ah.”

Ren lifted the corners of his lips. So he hadn’t come for pleasantries.

Edward met Ren’s eyes and asked,

“Betrayal, was it? It seems to be very popular. Has Your Holiness seen it as well?”

“I only know the general content. Is it interesting?”

“It was very interesting. A novel with the same title was being serialized in Pellena, but it stopped midway, so many people are curious about the rest. Could the play’s script have been written by the same person who wrote the novel?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I hope so. But even if not, it’s fascinating. It’s well known that the ancient Three Heroes were all human men, and that their descendants survived, prospered, and led the Empire for a long time. Yet here we have such a bold adaptation—one hero as a young woman, another as a fairy descendant, and the last as the villain.”

“That’s true. The two writers must be friends, then.”

“Impossible. Either one plagiarized the other, or they’re the same person, or… they’re both drawing from an original work.”

Ren smiled, unhurried and clear. Edward smiled as well.

“An original work. There could be such a thing. You are brilliant, young Duke.”

“You flatter me. What does Your Holiness think? Could there be a hidden original work somewhere?”

“I wonder.”

His eyes said far more than the words.

Having obtained the answer he wanted, Edward soon rose.

“I came to pay my respects today. I won’t take any more of Your Holiness’s time. May I formally request an audience tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. Anyone may come, but you’ll have to wait. The Lily Palace is open to all, so even nobles must stand in line.”

“You are so benevolent—it is truly blessed. I can stand in line. As you said, my health has improved quite a bit. Wedge Pouches, was it? The medicine containing it is very effective.”

Ren vaguely knew the Wedge Pouches selling briskly in the market were Nerys’s work. Ren, too, had gotten what he wanted, and nodded with a smile.

‘The Ganielo family is on Maindulante’s side.’

“Then please do. If it’s too difficult, you may meet me the day after. Don’t overdo it, young Duke.”

“It is an honor, Your Holiness.”

Father Adams saw Edward out. Hearing the door close behind him, Edward strode down the Lily Palace corridor.

He was satisfied. It had been worth his father taking the risk to send him here directly.

From the Pope’s attitude, there was no doubt the Papal State possessed evidence proving the Bistor descendants lacked legitimacy to rule the Empire. Evidence that the complete version of Betrayal—now being spread by the Maindulante army—was the truth.

‘Then I should raise the stakes a little more.’

In case of emergency, the more material he had to present when credit was being distributed, the better. Even if the Grand Duke were defeated, it would still be beneficial if the old nobles—those with deep, entrenched power within the Empire—were sufficiently cleared out beforehand.

With that in mind, Edward smiled brightly.

❖ ❖ ❖

As summer drew to a close, the Imperial Capital emptied out quickly.

The nobles of Imperial Bistor tended to spend more time by the Monarch’s side in the Imperial Capital than nobles in other countries. The Emperor’s authority was strong, and a competitive atmosphere naturally formed after years at the Academy—everyone striving to catch the Imperial Family’s eye. Above all, the Academy’s vacation period was the perfect season for parents with young children to gather and search for suitable marriage matches.

Because of that, summer was the most active social season in Imperial Bistor. When the Academy’s vacation ended, more than half of the adult nobles naturally returned to their territories. It was custom, so there was nothing strange about the Imperial Capital becoming quiet around this time.

Yet this year, there was something unsettling beneath the calm. Especially after a large number of young noble children who had recently enlisted were assigned to the front lines.

Valentin Elandria was among those who felt more anxious than most. Her circumstances had changed too many times, too quickly. Her mother’s family collapsed, her father’s family collapsed, she lost her father, and she was dragged to her brother’s house in the Imperial Capital during vacation. For someone with a simple personality who had never known worry in her life, she now spent her days fretting from morning to night.

The triumph she’d felt after searching her brother’s office and finding evidence to drive Megara out had been brief. It was good that Megara had died and the Elandria family’s position had improved somewhat, but Valentin’s own life had not changed for the better. Despite Alecto Isalani’s persuasion, Valentin still had not been confirmed as the Crown Princess.

In a few days, she would have to return to the Academy by carriage. She was so anxious she didn’t even know whether she could keep up with her studies. Her brother must have realized she had rummaged through his office without permission, yet he hadn’t said a word…

‘It’s better than being scolded, but…’

For what felt like the hundred millionth time, she wished things would go back to the way they were.

Dejected, Valentin entered her room—then paused, tilting her head at the sheet of white paper resting on her desk.

“What is this?”

She picked it up to ask a maid, then realized it was a letter. There was no sender, but the handwriting was familiar.

A letter from her father—the former Duke believed to be dead.

As Valentin read, her eyes widened more and more.