Chapter 65
“You. Seems like you stirred up quite the mess, didn’t you?”
The day after the Grand Duke’s summons.
Having borrowed a carriage from the Church and set off for the border, Eric only shrugged at the old man’s remark as the trial was temporarily suspended and the man was granted freedom.
“For someone who was supposed to stand before the Holy Tribunal, you don’t seem to have been treated too badly. You even knew what was going on outside.”
“Heh heh. Well, if the one about to be tried gets into trouble beforehand, that’d be quite the problem, wouldn’t it? I suppose they showed some mercy for an old man like me.”
Gregorius.
Despite his light tone, the old man who had spent days confined in what was little more than solitary detention glanced sideways at Eric with a wry smile.
Though he’d been locked up all day as a criminal awaiting trial, he’d heard roughly what was going on outside—through the paladins and priests who’d always respected him.
Eric, constantly running around the capital instead of staying in his lodgings… and the sudden declaration from the Second Princess.
A woman who’d had no prior ties to the Church whatsoever—now suddenly taking such an interest in his trial.
Anyone who wasn’t a fool could sense what that meant.
“…Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to go this far for an old man like me. Hearing that you were working so hard outside… it gave me a strange kind of strength.”
“Whether I like it or not, we’re in the same boat for now, aren’t we? We survived back in the old diocese by watching each other’s backs. I should do what I can while I can.”
At Gregorius’s unusually sincere gratitude, Eric scratched his head awkwardly.
Even though he’d helped the man, it was ultimately for his own sake.
Still, getting thanks from someone as reserved as this old man didn’t feel bad.
“Hmph. For someone who says that, you sure looked ready to throw me away without hesitation when they called you from the fortress.”
…Forget what I just said.
“Anyway, do you have any idea who might be behind all this?”
Annoyed at the old man’s extra jab, Eric turned his gaze out the window. After a moment of watching the scenery flash by, he spoke quietly.
“Who do you think handed you over to the Holy Tribunal? Miss Justia said it was likely Cardinal Benefatio.”
Those who had used the Holy Tribunal to bring Gregorius down.
Eric already knew from Justia’s gathered intel who was involved in this mess.
But hearing it from the man himself was different.
There were things in the world—intangible things—that couldn’t be discovered through investigation alone.
Especially when it came to old grudges spanning decades.
“Benefatio? That bad-tempered old coot? Well, I suppose that’s possible. The two of us never got along, even as apprentices.”
At Eric’s words, Gregorius nodded, as if he’d already guessed.
Not surprising at all.
You’d have to be someone of that level to bring a cardinal to trial before the Holy Tribunal.
And among the Church’s cardinals, the only one who hated him that much was Benefatio.
“But tell me, did you hear anything else? That lanky bastard—he’s not nearly as bold as he looks. If I had to guess, someone must’ve egged him on. Whoever’s behind him probably led the charge this time.”
Indeed, while Benefatio had a clear motive, he wasn’t the reckless type.
For all his bluster and his grand nickname, the Great Vulture of the South, he was a man with the heart of a mouse.
No one who valued self-preservation that much would take such a massive risk alone.
‘So it really is as I thought…’
Eric narrowed his eyes slightly.
Gregorius’s words confirmed it.
Cardinal Benefatio wasn’t the true mastermind.
The real culprit behind the downfall of the Little Giant of the North lay elsewhere—
someone who stood to gain the most from Gregorius’s fall.
Bishop Impietas.
The man who would later take the vacant position Gregorius once held.
“…Miss Malefica.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Eric turned toward Malefica with a look of certainty.
They had already identified the group suspected of colluding with heretics.
Now, investigating them would be the inquisitors’ task.
If fortune smiled on them, then while they repelled the attack at the border,
Isabella would expose the corruption—and Gregorius would be fully exonerated.
“But tell me,” Gregorius suddenly added with a mischievous look,
“did you really meet that sly young lady everyone’s been talking about?”
Just as Eric exchanged a knowing glance with Malefica, he blinked in confusion.
“Sly? I don’t know about that, but yes, I met her. I wouldn’t even be accompanying the Papal convoy if it weren’t for Lady Justia.”
Could it be that even this old man knew about Justia’s reputation?
Seeing Gregorius give him a concerned look, Eric gave a reassuring nod.
How far had that woman managed to spread her charm?
For gossip about her to travel all the way to the North—to a half-retired old man who was practically cut off from the world?
“…Strange. Judging by your tone, you don’t seem the type to let an old man get the better of you.”
“Well, they say even in a tiger’s den, you’ll live if you stay sharp. Though I’ll admit I was caught off guard—there was a fox inside instead of a tiger.”
As Gregorius continued to eye him suspiciously, Eric gave a stiff smile and replied vaguely.
‘This is going to be tricky… I said I’d make her into a saint, but—’
Turning Justia into a saint might prove harder than expected.
“Move it! Quickly! We need defenses ready before the monsters arrive!”
“We’re short on supplies! Has no aid arrived from the capital yet?”
After riding nonstop for over two weeks from the capital, Eric’s group arrived at the border where a massive horde of monsters was gathering.
Facing a fortress wall far larger than that of Ars Castle, Eric gazed out the window at a familiar battlefield from his past—
one where he had fought many large-scale battles in the game.
‘Castrum… I never even got my fief yet, and I’m already here.’
Castrum—
the largest border fortress-city of them all.
“Wow… there are so many people.”
Lillian breathed in awe at the sight—knights, soldiers, and mercenaries filling every corner.
It was a crowd fit for a demon lord event—the kind of massive battle that happened only a few times in the game. Even Eric couldn’t help but let out a low whistle.
“Halt!”
As their carriage neared the fortress gate, guards stopped them.
“You’re from the Church, correct? I’ll lead you to the rear lines—”
“No, not the rear. We’d like to be stationed at the front.”
The soldier blinked. Normally, clerics were sent to the rear. But Eric stepped out of the carriage and looked toward the border.
The rear was safer, yes—but aside from Lillian the mage and Malefica the priest, the rest of their group wasn’t suited to supporting roles.
Given his rivalry with Allen and his own ambition—as well as Leona’s Desire for Advancement trait—it made sense to take the front.
They weren’t leading troops anyway, just moving in small five-person units.
In that case, being a bit ahead of the formation was ideal.
“This old man would like the same, if you please.”
“Eh? But—wait, are you… Cardinal Gregorius!?”
The startled guard turned pale just as another soldier, recognizing Gregorius, came running.
“Heh heh. Been a while, hasn’t it? Since the Great War, I believe?”
“To think the Cardinal remembers an old soldier like me—it’s an honor! I should’ve visited long ago…”
A comrade from the Great War, then.
Though the man didn’t look particularly notable, Eric recalled hearing that Gregorius was especially respected among veterans.
‘Right—they said he’s admired by war survivors because of things like this.’
Countless people had taken part in the Empire’s wars against monsters—
knights, mages, soldiers, even mercenaries fighting for pay.
Here in Castrum alone, there were easily over ten thousand gathered.
And among them, Gregorius made a point of remembering as many faces as he could—
their deeds, and even their final moments.
That was why the warriors of the North never faltered.
Even in death, there would be someone who remembered them.
It was too heavy a burden for one frail old man to bear—
and yet that was precisely why they called him the Little Giant of the North.
“Anyway. Would you guide us to the front lines?”
“Eh? Not the rear?”
The knight scratched his head in embarrassment at Gregorius’s request.
He knew firsthand what the old man could do.
A divine barrier vast enough to shield an entire battlefield, healing miracles that could revive even those at death’s door—
If Gregorius supported them from the rear, their chances would skyrocket.
And yet he wanted to go to the front?
“This time, I’m not here as a Cardinal—I’m accompanying my lord.”
“Your lord? Ah! You mean Lord Allen? Then I’ll escort you to his position at once—”
“Not that one. He’s right in front of you.”
The knight blinked, puzzled—then followed Gregorius’s gaze.
“…Wait, you mean—”
When his eyes landed on Eric, the realization hit. His face went pale, sweat dripping down his temples.
“L-Lord Eric?”
Why did he look so terrified?
Eric simply smiled softly.
“This old man owes him a great deal. Without him, I’d still be rotting in the Holy See’s dungeon. The only reason I’m free now is thanks to this young lord here.”
As the soldier nervously glanced between them, Gregorius spoke warmly.
Like he’d said earlier—whether they liked it or not, they were in the same boat.
They’d once survived together, back to back.
“So then, would you make space for us in the front? Preferably somewhere visible—makes it easier to earn some merit.”
Eric agreed.
And now—
it was time for that reckless old man’s savior to earn his keep.
