SILHN Chapter 71

Chapter 71 

“Fire!”

When he heard the shout, Kronen thought it was a mistake. No—if not a mistake, then surely nothing serious.

At most, he figured, a training priest must have spilled some embers in the kitchen and panicked when it spread a little.

The South was a prosperous city. The weather was good. There had never been long droughts, and forest fires were rare. On top of that, the temple was built of stone, not wood. In short, since the temple had been established, there had never been any major damage from fire.

He’d heard about the recent commotion in the imperial palace—the so‑called “Rose Palace fire”—but that had been nothing more than that ill‑tempered Lysianthus getting into a fight with the princess, hadn’t it?

And right now, even Lysianthus himself was far away, sent off by his own subordinate. Even if his people moved against the princess, they wouldn’t use such a crude and obvious method.

Bang, bang!
Someone pounded on Kronen’s door. He opened it, irritation barely concealed.

“What is it? I told you not to disturb me!”

A panting priest, clearly having run there, blurted out,
“Sir Kronen—huff—please, you have to get out! The fire, the fire…!”

“What—what are you talking about? How bad is it that I need to evacuate?”

“While everyone was praying… the fire broke out near the room where the sacred relics are kept….”

“Who would even go near there to cause a fire? It’s before the Offering Festival—there are only priests in the temple, no outsiders—how could nobody notice until it got so bad? And a sacred temple burning? That’s absurd!”

Kronen was muttering words of denial without realizing it, then caught himself. The fire wasn’t ordinary. In the distance, he could hear horrified cries.

“O God, have You abandoned us!”

“The Offering Festival is so close…!”

“Get water! Fetch water!”

“Call the people!”

“Sir Kronen! Where are you?”

“E‑everyone, just do your duties! I—I’ll go assess the situation!”

“Sir?!”

He gave a vague answer to the voices calling for him, then slammed his door shut.

Then he began hurriedly stuffing valuables into a box—records of all the bribes he had taken, the dealings with the queen, the dirty work he’d done for High Priest Marzid… all the evidence he’d kept to protect himself.

His hands trembled. He’d never imagined something like this.

Hardly anyone was ever allowed in Kronen’s room. Even temple insiders didn’t dare come near. He even cleaned it himself to avoid inconvenience. Any trainee priest who so much as lingered nearby would be chased away, so everyone knew to steer clear.

And now he had to take all of it out of his room? It felt impossible.

Damn it, if only I’d organized it all properly.
He crammed papers and objects into a box at random, panting as he opened his door again.

Normally, he would have made some excuse to save face, or at least composed himself. But now, with everything at stake, he wasn’t thinking at all.

He hugged the box—nearly as big as a child—and opened the door. Smoke was already curling in the hall.

Kronen’s head spun.

“Sir Kronen! Where are you?”

Damn. I told them to just do their duties. By now they should be handling it themselves. Why are they calling for me at every turn?

Of course, in an emergency, looking for the person in charge was normal, but Kronen didn’t have the mental space to consider that.

He held most of the power in the temple, but his second‑in‑command, Silencio, had ambitions of his own.

If anyone inside the temple saw what was in his bag, it would be dangerous. If Silencio caught wind of it, he’d find out the contents somehow and use it to push Kronen aside.

Dealings with the queen? Silencio wouldn’t hesitate to make his own! His ties to High Priest Marzid would become useless.

Most of the apprentice priests had been sent there not for pure faith but for their families’ interests. Kronen looked around nervously and spotted a boy at the end of the corridor, pale with fear.

The boy’s clothes were conspicuously shabby—ragged shirt, pants full of holes, something even a trainee priest would never wear. He clutched a little handcart like it was his lifeline. Inside were special candles used only for the Offering Festival.

Candles? The festival candles should already have been delivered… Wait!

A bell rang in Kronen’s head.

Candles were a luxury. Especially beeswax candles engraved with ornate decorations—the kind only nobles could afford.

Since magic stones had become common, candles had gone out of fashion. But the Offering Festival was such an old tradition that it still used candlelight.

Kronen had a particular fondness for elegant scents, so when he ordered the festival candles, he had secretly slipped in some for his own use.

It happened every year. But this year, a shop making a new kind of scented candle had opened, and he’d ordered from there separately—he remembered only now.

Outwardly they looked no different from the others, and since Kronen personally handled them, no one had noticed.

Because he had chosen the shop himself, no other priests in the temple would have seen them either.

Gathering his thoughts, Kronen raised his voice to the boy.

“You there!”

“Y‑yes, s‑sir?”

Doesn’t even know to call me ‘sir priest’?

Outsiders coming to the temple would always call anyone they met “sir priest.” Some mean‑spirited priests even picked fights about it—“I’m not a noble, the temple isn’t secular, why call me ‘sir?’”—but still.

So this boy’s a total greenhorn.

Kronen felt reassured.

“Take this box to your shop and keep it there. When I send for it, bring it back.”

“Uh—uh?”

“You came in through the back, didn’t you? The temple’s on fire. I can’t take delivery of your candles right now. Go back. I’ll contact you later.”

He pulled a gold coin from his robes and handed it over. The boy trembled at the sight of it.

“Remember! Don’t give it to anyone else. These are precious ritual candles. If you fail to keep them safe, disaster will come to your shop—and to you.”

“Y‑yes, y‑yes, of course!”

The boy bowed repeatedly, clutching the coin to his chest, then immediately pushed the handcart with the box piled on top and disappeared.

Only after the boy vanished did Kronen relax and shout loudly,

“What’s going on? I’m here!”

“Oh, Sir Kronen! Please come quickly!”

“Sir! Her Highness the Princess!”

This was the temple. Even if some people got hurt, it shouldn’t be a big problem.

They’d said the fire had spread to the relic room, but relics were relics—some little fire couldn’t possibly harm them.

With the “weak point” evacuated, Kronen felt relieved. Without hesitation, he went toward the front of the temple where the priests were calling him.

And then he saw something he could never have imagined.

“Ohhh, ohhhh! I should die, I should die!”

“Please, Your Highness, don’t!”

“Hold on!”

“It’s not your fault, Your Highness!”

…the princess was sobbing, rolling on the ground.

Those who had accompanied her were holding down her arms and legs.

Even the second son of House Castrain—normally so grumbling and aloof—was visibly flustered, desperately trying to calm her.

What in the world?

Kronen stopped dead, stunned by the unimaginable scene. Even Silencio, always composed, approached him looking unusually tense and whispered,

“The fire spread much more than expected. We’re handling it somehow, but… the storeroom, the ritual chamber, and the spare chamber are all gone. Most of all…”

Kronen’s face went pale. Silencio, watching him carefully, continued,

“…that sword. The one said to have saved the palace from the Magu Beasts. The legendary holy sword. Her Highness…”

At that moment, the princess slapped the floor with her palm and wailed.

Kronen wondered if he was dreaming.

Was this reality? This was the same princess who had always sat there demurely, lips sealed, silent.

He’d thought, “At least she knows her place,” because even when treated harshly she never voiced a complaint.

“Ohhh! Ohhh, I almost burned to death soaking in the bath! How can such a thing happen! They stole the sword while I was bathing—oh God, in the temple, me!”

“…She lost it,” Silencio whispered.

Kronen was speechless. Speechless to the point his neck stiffened.