CHAPTER 90………………………………….
“Welcome to San Fidelio.”
“Oh, Your Grace, the Archbishop and representative of the God Enes, I greet you. Ah, then this must be the Grand Master of the Knights.”
“…I greet you. I am Killian.”
At San Fidelio, where the reception of distinguished guests was in full swing, it was the Grand Master Killian who drew the most attention.
Since it was practically his first time appearing in public, the foreign royalty and bishops were busy sneaking glances at him.
“I heard you recently served as the Archbishop’s proxy. Truly impressive.”
“I’ve heard he’s like an ice pillar—cold and unyielding.”
“He does look that way, indeed.”
Even as whispers circulated about him, Killian remained indifferent. So much so that even when the Archbishop urged him to soften his expression, nothing changed.
“Hmm. Grand Master, a fine seat, isn’t it?”
“I am aware.”
Even when the Archbishop leaned over to whisper at the outdoor banquet, Killian remained impassive.
Despite observing all proper etiquette, the chill emanating from him made the Archbishop narrow his eyes and stroke his beard.
“If perhaps you are displeased about having your leave cut short due to this event…”
“Not at all.”
“……”
“You surely know that I am not a petty man to fuss over trivial matters.”
“Yes, of course.”
Yet why were his eyes glaring with intensity?
The Archbishop swallowed his laughter at Killian’s serious expression, which was serious without really being serious.
Though he too was human and wanted to laugh aloud, there were simply too many eyes watching.
For the sake of the many guests gathered around the banquet, he had to maintain decorum.
After all, these were influential figures affecting politics, diplomacy, and religion across the empire.
Among them, a young man who had shown the greatest interest in Killian finally asked a question.
“Grand Master, is that the famous holy sword of Kelohan?”
“…It is.”
Killian’s brief answer drew every gaze in the hall to that sword.
It was a relic any young knight would dream to see, and excitement spread quickly.
“My word, it really exists! I thought it was just a legend.”
“Sir, you must observe proper manners.”
“Why bother? We’re all here to enjoy some peace together, aren’t we?”
Though the accompanying foreign bishop tried to stop him, it was futile.
The young man seemed barely over twenty, brimming with enthusiasm if not malice.
With clenched fists, he was desperate to exchange even a single word with Killian.
“Actually, my sword was modeled after Zorne’s holy sword! It would be wonderful to see it clash with yours, Grand Master.”
“…This is hardly the occasion for that.”
“Why not? We’re here in a spirit of friendship, yet you act so stiffly. Aren’t knights supposed to spar? The former Grand Master entertained such duels repeatedly. You could at least engage in a few friendly strokes…”
“Sir!”
Other bishops intervened, but the atmosphere had already grown awkward.
Though the blame lay with the overly eager foreign noble, Killian’s stern demeanor contributed just as much.
Sparring demonstrations among knights from various countries were not uncommon.
The Archbishop, unable to bear it, leaned close to Killian’s ear.
“What harm would it do to show your skill at least once?”
“My duty is to protect San Fidelio, not to display swordsmanship for others.”
Of course, welcoming unknown guests was even less reason to comply. Killian politely declined.
The Archbishop shook his head, marveling at how inflexibly proper he remained even after marriage.
“For the work of God Enes, is there ever a strictly defined duty? By that logic, I too had no obligation to check on His Majesty’s illness.”
“…Your Grace.”
“Either way, this is a gathering for diplomacy. Today, think of your duty more broadly. Not just that young noble—so many knights have attended to meet you.”
He gestured to the assembled guests, though even he had little expectation.
One must only hope for what is reasonable.
Sighing at the unyielding Killian, he raised his glass.
“Come now, everyone, take a drink. We’ve all traveled far to be here, haven’t we?”
“Oh, the aroma is wonderful. This must be the local wine.”
“Indeed. Count Sergio, a long-time patron of San Fidelio, sent it especially for this occasion.”
The Lady-in-waiting tried to ease the mood as well.
She attempted to start a conversation, assuming Killian’s temperament, but the response came from an unexpected quarter.
“Count Sergio? Could it be the resident of the Yuden Trading Company…?”
“You know him, Your Grace?”
“Of course. The young noble present here has a special connection with the heir of that house, ha ha.”
A single jest from the foreign bishop sharply divided the banquet hall.
Those unaware mocked the young noble, while San Fidelio’s people froze in unison.
They dared not look at Killian’s expression, only lowering their eyes.
Even the Archbishop could not intervene immediately, only stroking his beard.
“…Ha ha, Your Grace, truly… what are you saying?”
“Well, it’s all in the past, Your Grace.”
“Embarrassing. Not exactly a story to bring up here.”
The foreign noble blushed, an expression enough to fan the flames of someone’s ire.
“…Stories like this are hardly restricted to private settings, I suppose.”
“Grand Master…?”
Killian’s low voice began to dominate the hall.
No longer a lifeless statue, his faint smile was far from kind or gentle.
“How does the noble Zorne know the heir of the Sergio family?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just…”
“I wonder how it could be ‘nothing’.”
Killian’s thin, cold lips traced the rim of his glass with his thumb.
The flustered Archbishop recovered just in time but could not intervene.
Killian’s presence chilled the entire hall like a lake freezing in midwinter.
“Why can you not speak?”
“Not that… years ago, our noble did propose to the heir of the Sergio family. It was during their childhood, ha ha.”
Crash.
When Killian smashed his glass, Rebecca prayed silently for salvation.
God, Satan is terrifying.
Michael, handing him a new glass, also clutched his chest nervously.
Only Killian remained unmoved.
“…So, was the proposal accepted?”
“Far from it. I proposed several times, but not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Years ago, he visited on a trade ship with his father, the Count. I fell for him at first sight. Never had I seen such a proud and splendid beauty.”
“…I see.”
Even I… Killian lowered his voice as if to agree silently.
A grim voice, red as spilled wine, caused the Archbishop to press a hand to his forehead.
No one knew that his seemingly tired posture was actually a concealment of laughter.
“Mirbel, look at your son.”
The Lady-in-waiting felt pride that her son had become a proper man.
Yet, when a statue suddenly becomes human, chaos is inevitable.
Before things got out of hand, the Archbishop tried to calm the situation.
“Ha ha. I should have mentioned this earlier, but our Grand Master—”
“No, Your Grace.”
“….”
“Distinguished guests are gathered here. There is no need for unnecessary talk.”
“…Grand Master.”
The Archbishop, unprepared for this, stroked his beard in dismay.
One could almost burn down the banquet hall, yet why.
No one could guess his intentions.
Rising, Killian carefully adjusted his holy sword.
“Since it is also at the Archbishop’s request, I cannot always insist on my own will.”
“Hm? When did I ask…”
“Draw your sword. I shall be your opponent.”
Whether he heard or ignored the Archbishop, Killian gestured to the young noble opposite him.
Jackpot.
The young noble, blushing over Adele’s story moments ago, sprang up in fear that Killian would change his mind.
“Th-thank you very much!”
“…The thanks are mine.”
He gave only the faintest smile, and a strange tension settled over San Fidelio once again.
The Archbishop covered his eyes, the Lady-in-waiting struggled to restrain her laughter.
Michael and Renald turned pale, while Rebecca’s silent prayers grew louder.
“Then, I shall carry out the task assigned by the Archbishop.”
“I did not… I only meant that most of the knights wish to spar with you. Please understand the mood.”
“So, once this is over, my duty here will also be complete.”
…Why did he not realize that?
Killian’s expression brightened noticeably, misinterpreting entirely.
He glanced sideways at those eager to spar, while formally observing the Archbishop.
“Step forward.”
Roughly ten seconds per head, returning to the Count’s residence would be…
Killian smiled faintly and swung his holy sword in a broad X.
“It would be better if you all came out at once.”
