Chapter 41
“Cough, gasp, wheeze…!”
A hand clutching at the heart.
A face twisted in agony.
Breaths broken and gasping from hyperventilation.
The whole body drenched in sweat, clothes crumpled and soaked.
Dark red blood spilled across the floor swirled chaotically.
Hyaelia, pouring sacred power so fiercely it hurt the eyes, was already crying.
“……”
Erika froze in place.
This must be a dream.
At least, it had to be a hallucination caused by madness.
Erika stared blankly into the air.
Sitting motionless on the sofa.
Hyaelia brought tea. Even the clinking sound of the teacup on the table failed to draw any response.
“……”
Suddenly, Erika turned her head sharply.
She took in the sight of Petchenik lying on the wide bed.
She focused all her hearing to catch the faint sound of breathing.
“……”
Petchenik was asleep, unconscious under the influence of sacred power.
“It’s a kind of anesthetic. Also a sleeping pill.”
Erika slowly turned her head and looked at Hyaelia.
“Only when poured in very pure sacred power can he be made to faint and sleep. The light of healing doesn’t work at all.”
“……”
“So Petchenik can’t leave the temple. I’m the only one who can continuously provide such strong sacred power.”
“……”
Erika silently stared down at the teacup.
Ancient ruins?
Some kind of curse?
Although she had heard all of Hyaelia’s story, it still didn’t feel real.
Because it couldn’t be real.
Only her mood sank endlessly.
Erika’s eyes were so empty and unfocused they plunged into darkness.
“……Saint.”
Her voice was just as hollow.
“……It’s my fault.”
The words came out flatly, then she swallowed her wet breath.
She didn’t know what she had done wrong, but probably something.
So the gods must be punishing her.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Erika begged for forgiveness.
The saint was beautiful, kind, and compassionate — maybe she would show mercy.
“Please save our teacher.”
He is your friend. You are a saint.
Erika pleaded in a small voice.
She worried desperately about how to reach her heart.
Hyaelia, meeting her gaze, stayed silent for a long while.
“……”
She thought deeply and again.
She didn’t know if it was right to tell a disciple without Petchenik’s permission, but—
“……There is a way.”
Hyaelia finally spoke softly.
She knew only one method.
“But… your teacher is very stubborn and won’t easily relent.”
Petchenik also knew this method.
The problem was that Petchenik did not want it.
“Please help persuade him.”
The Marquis Nokbel was a powerful member of Tene’arha.
Not the leader, but held practical power greater than the leader.
A noble family that had produced high officials for generations.
He himself was both a man of letters and martial skill, and well respected.
The emperor trusted him enough to want to appoint him leader of Tene’arha, but he declined several times.
Nokbel believed that since he was involved in central noble politics, he should not take the position of knight commander.
He had even requested to retire from the order.
But the imperial family never allowed his retirement.
Even when taking up the pen instead of the sword, he never removed the Tene’arha uniform.
‘Tiring.’
Sometimes he remembered a colleague who retired long ago.
About ten years ago.
Petchenik, who had submitted a resignation from Tene’arha.
Because he was a cherished junior, Nokbel was quite startled.
Looking back, the cause was definitely Petchenik’s birthday.
When they had stormed the Earl of Herace’s mansion for a party, all had seemed joyful.
‘…Something must have happened that day.’
Since then, Petchenik had looked listless and suddenly submitted his resignation.
Of course, it was not accepted.
Though not as now, the emperor had always valued swordmasters highly.
The emperor’s permission was not easily given.
But Petchenik did not give up.
The next year, they had another birthday party at the Earl of Herace’s place, and Petchenik insisted even more on retiring.
Eventually, the emperor reluctantly allowed Petchenik’s retirement.
On the day the contract of servitude ended.
The day Petchenik finally threw off the glorious Tene’arha uniform.
He smiled brightly, looking relieved.
‘…He was lucky then.’
Now, it was impossible.
It was unimaginable for Tene’arha to revoke a contract.
The emperor would no longer release a swordmaster once obtained.
Swordmasters were scarce across the empire.
In over ten years, new swordmasters were so few they could be counted on one hand.
They were nearly extinct. Historically unprecedented.
The imperial family had long been known as swordmaster collectors, but recently it had become extreme.
Hence, the imperial family’s gentle eyes had turned severe.
“Was Petchenik with him too?”
“No, saint. I confirmed that only a commoner woman was taken to the audience chamber with the saint.”
The missing swordmaster, one of the continent’s top fighters, had been found.
The emperor planned to return him to his place by any means.
“It’s hard enough just to see the saint or Petchenik… I have no face to return to the emperor.”
“Are you going to wait in front of the audience chamber to meet the saint?”
“I know it’s rude… but I can’t help it.”
Marquis Nokbel adjusted his clothes as he walked.
He had requested meetings many times, all rejected.
They both clearly wanted something, but negotiations kept failing and he did not understand why.
“I don’t know why the holy grail is so necessary, but if you want such a relic, you should at least give some ground.”
“What if the saint tries to negotiate other conditions?”
“If it’s not Petchenik’s return, the emperor will never hand over the holy grail.”
There were four people from Tene’arha heading to the audience chamber.
Even within Tene’arha there were ranks.
Two lower knights followed two senior knights ahead to assist.
They were the two most authoritative knights in Tene’arha.
“…We would be glad if Petchenik returned, but he stubbornly refuses.”
Marquis Nokbel.
“And refusing to return to Tene’arha, do you think he will change his mind?”
And the Earl of Herace.
“Since he is at the Temple of Light, we must try to persuade the saint first.”
“……”
“As the condition for handing over the Holy Grail of Magreta.”
The old-fashioned corridor stretched ahead.
They said no more as they walked toward the audience chamber.
“Holy Grail of Magreta?”
Erika had never heard of it.
The audience chamber they moved to was very luxurious, but Erika had no time to look around.
She only watched Hyaelia’s lips, waiting for an answer.
“It’s one of the treasures of the imperial family.”
The imperial family had many special items.
All rare and mysterious, unique in the world.
Spoils from conquering the vast continent over a thousand years.
Among them was a relic stolen from the Temple of Light 700 years ago.
“Long ago it belonged to the temple… but now no one can claim ownership.”
The cup containing the power of the first saint.
The Holy Grail of Magreta.
It is said that instead of liquid, light is contained within the closed cup.
But no one has ever seen it directly, as it was taken into the imperial treasury 700 years ago.
“It is said that if kept nearby, it gradually neutralizes all curses.”
