#78. What Kind of Nonsense Is That Now?
“The Cardinal of Arkanso has arrived!”
The High Priest sprang up from his armchair as if a spring had gone off beneath him.
I widened my eyes and looked at the man with silver hair cascading down to his waist.
He was tall—nearly as tall as Nikolai—and his build was sturdier than that of most knights.
His skin was pale white, and his face was strikingly beautiful, though a white silk ribbon covering his eyes kept his full beauty hidden.
“That’s the Cardinal of Arkanso? His eyes are covered… just like the statue of the goddess Morasynthia.”
My gaze drifted to the staff he held.
He stood still, utterly composed—without the slightest tremor or hesitation.
“How could you come to such a humble place without notice? Had I known, I would have come to receive you myself,”
the High Priest said, bowing deeply.
He looks barely in his twenties. Is a cardinal that high in rank?
As I wondered that, Arkanso raised his staff.
The motion was fluid and elegant—without an ounce of waste.
When the tip of that staff slammed down onto the High Priest’s solar plexus, I gasped and instinctively covered my mouth.
“Ugh!”
With a choked cry, the High Priest crumpled to the ground.
The paladins of the Thirteenth Temple shouted in shock.
“High Priest!”
“Are you all right?!”
Arkanso, however, spoke in a voice as cold as ice.
“The High Priest of the Thirteenth Temple, along with all holy knights here, shall be taken to the Grand Temple for judgment.”
The group of priests accompanying him immediately began restraining the High Priest and the knights.
They wore plain, almost shabby robes—nothing like the pompous knights who had strutted around moments ago—yet a grave, overwhelming sense of authority radiated from them.
“Your Eminence, why do you persecute an old servant of God?” the High Priest gasped, clutching his chest.
Without even turning his head, Arkanso recited in a solemn tone—like he was quoting scripture.
“He who sells the name of God for gold shall burn alongside demons on the highest stake.”
“What are you saying? I have lived my entire life faithfully!”
“Silence. I know every one of your sins.”
The High Priest’s aged body trembled violently, his face drained of all color.
Arkanso pointed his staff at him.
“Of all your crimes, none is heavier than imprisoning the Saint in a stable—and deceiving her with lies.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
When Arkanso uttered the word Saint, everyone’s eyes turned toward me.
Me? I’m not a saint—I’m Elizabeth Amster! I literally just tried to bribe the High Priest a moment ago…
Nikolai finally broke the heavy silence.
“A Saint? What kind of absurd nonsense is that?”
His voice was a low growl—threatening, dangerous.
Arkanso didn’t respond.
He simply turned toward me.
I stared back into the silk ribbon hiding his eyes.
He can’t even see, but it feels like he’s looking straight through me.
Nikolai, Arkanso, and I stood there—three figures locked in a strange, suffocating tension.
Then Arkanso slowly dropped to one knee.
At my feet, he bowed his head deeply—like a knight pledging loyalty to his liege.
“Servant Arkanso greets the Saint—the goddess’s chosen representative. From this moment on, I shall serve you personally.”
* * *
Douglas struggled to keep his composure at Franz’s sudden visit.
Maybe it was because Claudia had told him about Nikolai’s secret.
He looks like His Majesty… and yet, somehow, he doesn’t.
Ashamed of trying to find traces of truth in the boy’s face, Douglas quickly averted his gaze.
“You left the imperial palace? That’s far too dangerous, Your Highness.”
“Would I truly be safe inside the palace?” Franz curled one corner of his lips into a bitter smile.
The cynicism in that boyish face struck Douglas straight in the heart.
“Susan, you should have stopped His Highness.”
Douglas lightly scolded his younger sister.
Susan lowered her head, fingers clasped together.
“I’m sorry, brother.”
“Don’t blame her,” Franz interjected. “She tried to stop me. I insisted on coming. It was my decision.”
Susan smiled faintly at Franz’s defense—delicate and pure, like a budding forget-me-not.
Douglas tilted his head, looking between the two.
“I want to meet the painter Owen. Can you arrange that for me?”
Franz removed his paint-stained robe as he spoke.
“May I ask why, Your Highness?” Douglas inquired cautiously.
“My teacher, Elizabeth, is being branded a villainess. I cannot tolerate that. You, who helped her escape, must understand.”
“I do, but…” Douglas hesitated.
“Lady Claudia is pressuring the Four Great Houses. Yet that alone won’t bring them down. It’s time for me to act.”
Franz’s green eyes gleamed sharply.
Who could dare dismiss this boy as immature?
He radiated the dignity of a crown prince of the thousand-year-old Hartmann Empire.
“I intend to appoint Owen as my personal art instructor and patronize his works. And I will also clear the names of those unjustly branded as traitors, like him.”
“Shouldn’t we obtain His Majesty’s permission first? Contacting a declared traitor directly could cause problems.”
“I’ll grant him a pardon. That will be my first decree as acting emperor.”
“Acting… emperor?” Douglas’s normally composed face filled with shock.
Susan too could not hide her astonishment.
“His Majesty entrusted this to me when he left to pursue Elizabeth,” Franz said, removing his worn hunting cap.
Inside the hat was a small leather pouch sewn into the lining.
When Franz pulled something out, Douglas gasped.
“That’s… the Imperial Signet Ring of the Hartmann Empire, isn’t it?”
Engraved on the golden ring was the emblem of a heart pierced by a sword—the imperial symbol.
Only the emperor could possess or wield it.
Clutching the ring that was far too large for his hand, Franz nodded gravely.
“His Majesty trusts me. He believes I can fill his absence, even if only a little.”
“Does the Minister of the Interior know?” Douglas asked.
“Judging from Kares’s reaction, I doubt it,” Franz replied.
Susan, her face flushed with excitement, spoke up.
“So that’s why you went to see Minister Kares?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in advance, Susan.”
Douglas looked confused, and Susan quickly explained.
“His Highness ordered Minister Kares to withdraw the pursuit teams. But Minister Kares said His Highness had no authority to do that.”
“Meaning, he doesn’t know about the signet ring,” Douglas murmured, impressed.
He assesses the situation before wielding power. Determines allies and enemies first. Calm, calculating… brilliant.
Franz rubbed his chin with a troubled look.
“If it were the usual His Majesty, he would have told Kares everything. His reaction was strange.”
“I felt it too,” Susan added. “It was like he was deliberately provoking you, Your Highness.”
Douglas blinked in surprise. “You noticed that?”
“Don’t treat me like a child, brother. I’m sixteen. Old enough to marry, you know.”
Her tiny, cherubic face made that claim sound almost cute—but for some reason, Douglas found her words mature today.
“To think you, once so frail, are now sixteen… I’m proud of you. Grateful… and—”
He ruffled her pink hair, swallowing back the rest.
Flustered by Franz’s gaze, Susan elbowed her brother’s side.
“Don’t say embarrassing things in front of His Highness.”
“You were ill, Susan? I had no idea,” Franz asked, eyes round with concern.
Susan waved her hands and quickly changed the subject.
“I’m fine now! I think it’s thanks to some medicine I made while preparing Your Highness’s tonic.”
“You never told me that,” Douglas said worriedly.
“If I had, you’d only worry more,” she said, leaning affectionately against his arm.
“You should have told me anyway.”
“My recovery is also thanks to Sister Elizabeth,” Susan added.
“What do you mean?”
“If not for her, I never would have found Grandfather’s books or received Lord Boritz’s herbs. So, it’s partly thanks to you too, Your Highness!”
Susan smiled sweetly at Franz.
Franz blushed faintly and lowered his gaze.
It was nothing much—but somehow, Douglas wanted to throw him out of the house.
He wasn’t sure why.
“If word spreads that I possess the Imperial Seal, everything will change. We must act before His Majesty returns. Marquess Nettleton—will you stand with me?”
Franz’s piercing gaze fell upon Douglas.
Without hesitation, Douglas dropped to one knee.
“The House of Nettleton will devote its life and soul to serving Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
“Good. Then let us fight together—for Elizabeth.”
Franz extended his small hand.
Douglas clasped it in both of his and stood.
No one could yet foresee what kind of ripple this vow would send across the empire.
* * *
Arkanso led the way down a staircase descending into the depths.
The damp smell of mold filled my nose as I trailed my fingers along the stone wall.
A faint light flickered from a kettle-shaped oil lamp.
The steps were narrow and slick, and the cheap oil fumes made my stomach turn.
He’s walking so confidently in the dark with only that dim lamp… Can he really not see? Is he some kind of psychic?
I glared at Arkanso’s broad back and grumbled.
“Where are we going? At least explain that, Your Eminence.”
“I am but a lowly servant of the Saint. Please, do not use honorifics with me.”
“Then stop calling me that Saint thing!”
I shuddered with visible irritation.
Arkanso replied evenly, without a hint of emotion.
“I could not dare to address the Saint by any other title.”
“It’s uncomfortable and creepy.”
“You will grow used to it soon, my lady.”
No matter what I said, he seemed immovable—a wall of unshakable faith and discipline.
Why does everyone around me have to be so stubborn?
I sighed deeply.
Maybe I should’ve come with Nikolai after all…
Arkanso had said we needed to go underground to receive the oracle.
Just the two of us.
“How can I trust you with Elizabeth? We don’t even know what might happen down there,”
Nikolai had said, unable to hide his suspicion and displeasure.
“I am sorry, Your Majesty, but you cannot accompany us,”
Arkanso had replied—though his tone was anything but apologetic.
“The Saint is more precious than all priests and high clergy combined. I swear on the name of the goddess Morasynthia to protect her.”
“I don’t believe in gods or clerics,” Nikolai scoffed.
“Do you see me as a threat to the Saint, Your Majesty?”
“You’re finally saying something obvious,” Nikolai retorted coldly.
“If I may be honest,” Arkanso said quietly, “it is not I, but the beast you fail to control, that I believe is far more dangerous.”
