CHAPTER FOUR

The cathedral bells rang and noon service began. The sound of the bell and the warm sunlight streaming through the windows cut into the stone walls alone were a guarantee for a peaceful day.

Amid it all, among a small group gathered in the chapel meant for nobility within the cathedral, was an elderly knight dressed in ceremonial armor.

“I am pleased to meet you. I am Commander Claude Wintshire—the Saint Kruza Wintshire Company is under my command.”

“I am Tote Col, traveling by Heir Hyland’s call.”

Since he was not receiving official support, Col did not say he was “serving” Hyland.

He also wanted to avoid any of the trouble spreading to her as much as possible if and when the knights deemed him an enemy.

“I have heard the rumors, but you are quite young.”

Col did not sense any malice in his mild smile, at least, but he felt something restless behind him.

“If I may, Sir Wintshire,” Hyland spoke up, a pitying tone to her voice. “This is Sir Col’s younger sister, and she idolizes knights. She is an intelligent young woman who has contributed a considerable deal on this journey, so she will be joining us today.”

Myuri looked at Hyland with wide eyes, and she then looked at Wintshire.

“Oh ho, this is truly an honor,” the old knight said, flicked back his deep crimson mantle with a grand gesture, went down on one knee, and took Myuri’s hand. “I am Claude Wintshire, knight of the Knights of Saint Kruza.”

“O-oh…Ah…Um…”

Myuri’s face went bright red, and she looked at Col with an expression that suggested her ears and tail might pop out at any moment.

“This is my sister. Her name is Myuri.”

“Oh ho, and her name is beautiful as well.”

The old knight smiled at her, and Myuri only nodded, dazed.

Though she said she would never give a flower wreath to a knight, Col wondered if that was because she had lost her nerve and had been unable to bring herself to actually do it.

“Thank you very much, Sir Wintshire,” Hyland said, and Wintshire smiled at Myuri once more before standing.

Myuri gently brought the hand he had held to her chest, then came to stand behind Col, as though hiding her treasure away.

“First, I thank you for gathering here on my request,” Wintshire gave his thanks. “I believe you may have suspected I was plotting a wicked scheme to bring you harm.”

In this room were a total of three of Hyland’s guards and two guards dispatched by Eve. Out in the hallway, the escort that had brought Col and Myuri to the Brondel Abbey stood watch for surprise attacks.

But in contrast, Wintshire was alone.

“If I may inform you of the true situation, there are quite a number of my men who do not think fondly of you. Which is why I have used the one time I may be separated from them—mass.”

Col understood that from his encounter with Rhodes.

“We are not attempting to destroy the Church, nor are we intending to spread heretical beliefs. I hope you understand that.” Col had to bring this up, even though it might perhaps be a little late for it.

Wintshire nodded deeply.

“Money and the Church have long been the source of headaches. Campaign funds were necessary in order to wipe out the pagans and spread proper faith throughout the world. Faith and prayer alone does very little in the real world, and though we have nothing to be ashamed of, we have no excuse for any of the clergy who use that money to indulge in gluttony and lust.” His powerful way of speaking seemed to have enough force to drive away the darkness alone. “I do possess a certain degree of understanding of what the kingdom is trying to accomplish.”

Hyland cast her eyes downward briefly—perhaps in a courteous gesture—accepting his remark.

“But there are many who do not think that way. They have deemed the kingdom as evil, as a stronghold of heretical faith. And we hail from the kingdom—we set sail for the island of Kruza as the crest of the golden sheep bade us farewell. Which means that others see us as having lost true faith.”

Wintshire refused to even touch on the fact that the very two who had a hand in creating such a massive commotion were right here.

“Our faith will not waver. We believe God understands that as well. But I am here because prayer will not affect reality. We cannot maintain the company as we are now.”

Wintshire’s speech was heartfelt, but Hyland replied with distress.

“I am currently approaching the king about reinstating the donations. However…I anticipate it will be rather difficult to continue giving you, the knights, donations.”

Wintshire nodded.

“I understand the state the kingdom is in as well. If it were to come to war, we would be standing on the front lines. We would wield weapons and shields purchased with the kingdom’s money and use them to fight against kingdom soldiers. There on the battlefield, we would face our old friends, our brothers, and even our fathers. And even if we were able to avoid the fighting…Well, that alone would present us with a different weighty decision. Our position would remain ambiguous.”

Would they remain at the pope’s side and fight against the kingdom, or would they be able to turn their swords against their master as citizens of the kingdom, or as those whose existence was preserved through kingdom donations?

Of course, there may also be the option of siding with neither by God’s will, but regardless, Wintshire was left in a tough position.

Everyone around them looked at them with scorn—Who were they, exactly?

“Then,” Col spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him, “what is it that I can do?”

Frankly speaking, what the knights lacked was money.

That was one thing that was far beyond Col’s means, and he wondered that if perhaps Wintshire should have summoned Eve instead.

“My apologies, I lost track of the conversation. Talks get long when one works as a knight,” Wintshire said, clearing his throat. “Twilight Cardinal. You have a great deal of influence. I was hoping to use your influence so that we may continue to exist.”

“Influence? Well, even if I did have a bit of influence, I…I am not sure how to put this, but I believe it may prove to be a hindrance to you…”

The name of the Twilight Cardinal had been set up as a symbol that was easy to understand, for the kingdom to oppose the Church.

In essence, it was nothing more than an enemy to the Knights of Saint Kruza.

“Ordinarily, that may be the case. However, we have been abandoned by many camps, if you would, and we are no longer needed.”

There was nothing obsequious about his speech, but his clear-cut manner of speaking instead brought pain to the listener.

Wintshire looked at Col and smiled kindly. “Then what would happen if the Twilight Cardinal were to suddenly speak very highly of us? Though we may be enemies, you have done exceedingly well, or something of the sort.”

The man looked just like a refined, faithful knight who beamed as he spoke. Col was starting to understand what Wintshire was trying to say, and a part of his heart started to stiffen.

“The pope is at a loss for what to do with you. Because the Church never speaks of which so-and-sos famed in faith happen to appear. That is when you acknowledge us as an equal, or at least a worthy, opponent. What will the pope, the cardinals, and the others of high standing think then?”

Col inhaled, as though he was trying to forcibly fill his hardened heart with air.

“…That you are someone who could contend as an equal enemy.”

“Precisely. For us, people who fight because it is our God-given mission, there would be no greater reason for living.”

These were knights who did not know where their allegiances lie, who were seen as an enemy by all.

They would have value either as a group who stood up to the Twilight Cardinal, or as one that brought together the hearts of people attempting to distance themselves from the Church. It was a value that Wintshire and the knights would only gain by existing.

That was what he was trying to say.

Day in and day out they prayed, swung their swords, trained, and they would be the ones risking their lives on the front lines if war were to break out, and they were essentially attempting to preserve themselves by having who is essentially their enemy give them praise. They were not fighting their enemy, but currying favor.

Wintshire himself was most likely aware that what he was saying was horribly unfitting for someone in the position of a knight. That was evident from his tense, all-too-bright smile.

However, he had an obligation to lead his men and act in a way that would preserve their continued existence. He would not hesitate, even if he was dealing with the unfamiliar young man who had driven them into this predicament in the first place.

This was an experienced knight who would bear through any humiliation for his objective.

Col had to somehow withstand the urge to kneel before him.

“Of course, I also have the option to cut you down as the pope’s blade right here. But that would mean war with the kingdom, and from the word I have gathered of you in this cathedral, I do not believe that would not be the right course of action.”

It was hard to tell how much of that was flattery, but he likely genuinely did not want to go to war with the kingdom, his homeland.

“I believe…I have understood what you want to say. And the role you are asking of me.”

Wintshire nodded and said, still genially, “From your point of view, this is essentially a suggestion of deliberately strengthening your foe. I understand how strange it must sound. But I ask you to understand.” The man, who had been a knight since birth, gazed at Col. “We are the Winfiel Company of the Knights of Saint Kruza. We have played starring roles in many wars detailed in the knights’ epic. Please, do not allow a company with such an storied history come to an end.”

As Wintshire said that, the great bells of the cathedral began to ring.

He did not move to repeat what he said, despite the bell ringing over him, and he stared at Col as the sound continued to echo around them.

The knights’ journey was on the brink of finding an end.

They would cling even to their enemy in order to continue forth again.

“I await your response,” was all Wintshire said before thanking Hyland for arranging the gathering, and he quickly left the room.

Mass was over, and the other knights would soon return. If they suspected anything about the humiliating plea, they might even draw their weapons.

As all present remained still, Col turned his gaze to Hyland.

The kind royal placed her hand on his shoulder, the easygoing smile missing from her face.

“I think we need to report this plan to the king.”

Col’s head shot up at the unexpected statement and Hyland let go of his shoulder, turning to look at the Church crest that hung on the wall.

“The Knights of Saint Kruza are in a precarious situation, and they are losing confidence. Wintshire returned to the kingdom to give them hope again. There are people here who would bless them, after all.”

Eve had the same view.

But Hyland was not as honest and straightforward as Eve would suggest.

Hyland was looking at the reality surrounding the knights from an entirely different perspective.

“But in a way, one could also call this a protest of theirs. They are showing just how popular they are with the people.”

Showing who?

The king.

“If their company were to disband, the news would spread all over the kingdom and be met with a significant public response. I believe many would then start to doubt the decisions of the king and all those sided with him. But the biggest danger would not be the momentary effects of the news.” Hyland was looking at something greater. “For example, we cannot say that there will be another big pagan uprising or war with the heretics in the future. Without our own company when that happens, the kingdom would be the only country unable to dispatch their knights in the Knights of Saint Kruza, and we would be abandoned in a war of faith. Our name would vanish from the annals of world history. This turning point we are in now may very well hold sway over the royal family’s future.”

Even if the kingdom did go to war with the Church, they could not completely cut ties with them, just as it would be impossible to completely remove the Church itself from the country, nor did Col think that was the right choice.

All he had to imagine was a future king saying this to him, the next time the war with the pagans flared up again:

You are the impious ones that disbanded the knights all that time ago, no?

“The halting of donations to the knights was originally put in place at the very beginning of the conflict to show the powerful nobles that we were serious about challenging the Church. The king must have honestly assumed that the suspension would not last long…And that goes for the war itself as well.”

Three years had passed since the kingdom and Church began their struggle.

They must have planned to reach reconciliation rather quickly in the beginning.

“The king will surely adopt this plan in order to make sure some of the Winfiel Kingdom’s influence remains in the Knights of Saint Kruza. The problem is”—Hyland looked at Col—“that would mean making you lie.”

“I—” Col began, but no further words came out. Though he would not go as far as calling it a lie, it was still true that he could not shake the stench of deceit.

But if he were to accept Wintshire’s idea, then the favorable conditions created by the knights’ popularity with the people may indeed give them value in the pope’s eyes, just as planned.

And in reality, the one lying in this plan was not Col.

It was Wintshire himself.

“There is something on which I would like to ask your opinion, Heir Hyland.”

“What is it?”

Hyland was a member of the royal family, which made the difference between her and Col like heaven and earth.

He had no choice but to jump if she commanded him to do so, and if she asked him to move mountains, he had to at least try.

But she spoke to him as an equal.

And so he asked, “If this plan goes well, then will Sir Wintshire continue being a knight?”

Col’s hunch told him he would not.

Hyland pursed her lips.

Perhaps that was her answer.

The sound of the cathedral bells once again rang through the windows carved in the stone walls.

The whole would move forward at the cost of one.

Though that may be the right choice for a warrior, Col could not find the confidence for it.

“Please give me some time.”

Hyland nodded silently.

Though Wintshire had made an unbelievable request, he was still trying to save his troops.

And if his request went forward, then his knights would quietly obey his decisions because of the hierarchical nature of the organization, though many of them may feel a sense of unease about it. And since this would save his men, the majority would also keep quiet about their doubts.

But that did not mean they would not perceive it as deceit, and the truth would surely get out in the form of a rumor. That was because if one thought carefully about it for a moment, one would see just how unnatural it all seemed.

The majority of the people, however, would not sweat the details, and the crux of the issue was that this plan benefited both the kingdom and the pope. It would most certainly end up going well one way or another by benefiting both.

As Col thought about that, he easily imagined how they would deal with the stress that emerged in this room.

That old knight was going to take everything on his own shoulders.

“Can’t you do anything to help?” Myuri asked as they made their way back from the cathedral, plodding along.

Wintshire had treated her like a lady, and her face went red from it.

She had gotten to see knights she so idolized and also saw their reality. The noble knights, with faith in their hearts and sword in hand, were actually at the whim of the raw circumstances of reality and were nothing but people who were desperately trying to cling to it.

Their brilliant act was all but a brilliant sheen, paper armor that shriveled up under the world’s cold rain.

“Help who?”

Was it Wintshire, or his troops?

Myuri was gripping Col’s hand, and he squeezed it.

“Both.”

That was a selfish hope only a child could accept.

But it was indeed the result that everyone hoped for.

It would be easy to line up all the reasons why that was not possible, and they were not yet in a situation that called for last resorts.

Huskins had told him to take broad steps, because those beside him were watching his steps for him.

“We will think all we can.”

Myuri might have been expecting a more pessimistic answer.

She looked up, blinking her wide eyes in surprise.

“They have not done anything wrong. I am sure God has prepared a path for them.”

Most importantly, Wintshire would receive all the pressure at this rate, and the knights would continue under a falsehood—Col thoroughly doubted any of that was just.

He had been told the same thing when it came to his crest with Myuri.

Everyone has their own things they consider precious, and so they must not add lies or falsehoods.

That was especially true for something that would represent who they were.

The name of the Knights of Saint Kruza shaped the lives of Rhodes and Wintshire and everyone else who was a part of it.

“Let us save the knights.”

Myuri’s eyes gleamed, and she replied with enthusiasm.

What the knights lacked was not only a reason for being, but frankly, money. Them coming to Rausbourne was also a means to an end as they needed to ask for food, clothing, and shelter for the time being from the cathedral, whose gates were now open.

With their living expenses covered for now, they might be able to find other paths to salvation that did not involve them relying on their own influence.

That meant there was one person in particular to whom they needed to speak.

“Demanding their gratitude won’t be very profitable,” Eve, who had been watching Hyland’s manor while she was away, replied curtly as she continued her work.

She was writing a letter to Ilenia proposing that she purchase wool from the Brondel Abbey.

Col stole a glance at it to see it was questioning Ilenia why she had not purchased such good-quality wool before. As he considered the reason being was her and Huskins’s bad relationship, he started to think that not doing so was a rather bad thing.

“The Brondel Abbey was in trouble long ago as well, remember? The merchants back then went out there to buy their assets, pretending to be good people lending a hand.”

“Yes.”

“That’s because they had their own assets to sell back to them, or because the privileges they had were also profitable to them. But the knights don’t have any of that. They’re only useful as tools.”

The merchant was a cold-blooded species, one that weighed one’s own heart against gold, and there was no ounce of mercy to her words.

“They’ll get donations if they recruit a philanthropist. Filthy rich merchants believe they can buy faith or salvation with gold, after all. But if that happens, then comes a problem that would be exactly the same if you were to help them.”

“About what the pretext is, yes?”

“There’s the pretext, yes, but it’s different if all they want is money to keep on living.”

Rhodes had mentioned that poverty was seen as a lack of faith.

The kingdom would not care for them, and the pope did not trust them. And so they canvassed around, asking for money that will keep their company afloat. They collect funds, buy their bread, and polish their swords.

But what would happen after that?

“I told you they’re tools. The problem is that they’re tools that no one needs. Wintshire is outstanding in that sense. He has absolutely no hopes about who he and his men are. He is doing all he can to heighten their value as tools, and that’s it. It was almost noble how he asked for your help.”

Myuri glared daggers at Eve in response to her cool phrasing, but that changed nothing about Eve’s demeanor.

“But if what he said is true…,” Eve finished writing the letter and sprinkled sand across the writing to dry the ink, then took another sheet of paper from the umbrella girl. “Then that means we have hunting dogs wandering around without a leash. That’s the bigger problem.”

Eve had assumed that the pope was using Wintshire and his knights for a scheme.

That certainly brought trouble to mind, but it was still a problem if that were not the case.

“Are you talking about Heir Klevend?”

“Hyland put me here; she’s quite sensible. A merchant’s instincts lie in the buying and selling of tools.”

“Please don’t say it like that.”

Her tone was exaggerated, but when Col tried to stop her, Eve gave an even more exaggerated smile.

“A dog needs a master.”

“What?”

“All the knights are thinking about right now are being pampered by the townsfolk. The warm wine that is praise is filling their cold, hardened hearts. But that elation isn’t going to last forever. The constant coddling is only fun for the first few days. They will absolutely get tired of it, and that’s when they’ll wake up. That’s when they’ll once again realize their own reality, that the master whom they’d served all this time abandoned them, and they no longer have a reason to wield their swords. Don’t take the emptiness lightly—that is a hole with unfathomable depths.”

Eve pointed her quill at Col, then to Myuri.

“If you were to get hit by a carriage and keel over and die, then what will that wolf do?”

She stared hard at Myuri.

When she asked the question, Col recalled being thrown into the frigid seas on a blustery winter night.

Myuri had leaped into the sea to follow him to death without a second thought.

“When the knights realize they have no reason to live, then what kind of things do you think they’ll get up to? I don’t dare try to picture it. Unnecessary chaos gets in the way of trade.”

The knights were a gathering of valiant warriors, reputed to have the strength of a thousand men each, and they would soon find themselves in a desperate situation.

Considering how popular they were with the people, there certainly would be some who would offer to feed them.

It was the beginning of a rebel army, one that was often remembered in tales of tragedy.

“That’s why I’m thinking about deliberately selling them off to the second heir.”

Just as Col was about to voice his disapproval, it was Myuri that interjected.

“I kind of doubt that.”

When she said that, Eve raised her chin, urging her to continue.

“Isn’t the second prince a traitor to the royal family?”

“Sure, in the sense that he’s trying to seize the throne.”

“I don’t know if noble knights would take his side that easily. Killing their liege is a serious crime. The only time something like that is ever considered justice is when the king is being a tyrant.”

Myuri’s brain was full of war epics, but there was often truth to them.

“Good point. Have some grapes.”

Eve gave an order to the umbrella girl in the desert tongue. The girl nodded, smiled at Myuri, then left the room.

“It doesn’t adhere to nature. That’s why I’ll have to persuade them.”

“You mean there’s a possibility that it would adhere to nature?”

“If you put a key and a lock inside a box and shake the box around, it’s rather unlikely that the key will unlock anything, but it is possible if you put everything in place.”

The umbrella girl brought over a bowl piled high with green grapes.

Eve reached out to it and said, “I told you I’d invite you in on my next scheme. How about it?”

Myuri had reached out to take a grape, but she paused.

Eve was a merchant, through and through.

“Myuri.” Col said her name, and she produced her wolf ears and tail in an almost theatrical fashion, twitching them back and forth. She then stuck out her hand and grabbed all the grapes she could from the bunch.

“Anyway, I’ll take what we’ve talked about for now.”

Myuri opened her mouth wide to bite into the grape, like she was showing off her pointed canines.

“I almost want you to work for me.”

Eve smiled gleefully.

“I’m not going to act on my own if I don’t secure your approval. I can’t stand the thought of you ruining my plans again.”

Eve was versed in fighting in the shadows. But now that Hyland had found her and placed her in the light, she thought that making the wrong moves would only bring her losses.

“That said, I don’t think you have many options,” said the merchant, who dealt in gold more valuable than human life every day, and waved her quill.

She was telling them they were interrupting her work.

Myuri took one final handful of grapes from the bunch before leaving the room.

Col and Myuri returned to their room. Myuri lay on the bed, drawing crests, and Col sat at the desk to stare blankly out the window.

The puppy they had left in the mess hall while they were visiting the Brondel Abbey was overjoyed to see Myuri again, but Myuri herself treated it coolly.

Her crest design had also turned out to be half-hearted and vague.

“I suppose this means that Miss Eve knows something.”

There was that metaphor of the key and the lock.

Eve was aware of pretext that clicked everything together.

“Knights of justice would never work with evil.”

Col looked to Myuri and saw that she had drawn a clumsy-looking knight on her wax board.

“She said they would need persuading.”

Myuri huffed in discontent and poked the puppy with her heel, who was playing with her silver tail.

“But I am impressed that she was considering what would happen after the knights start feeling emptiness from all the praise.”

That would mean reading into their future moves, but more importantly, Eve typically saw things in a cold way. Col doubted there was anyone else out there who was most suited to the phrase from dust to dust, from ashes to ashes.

“Do you think,” Myuri began. Still lying on the bed, she placed down her pen and wrapped her arms tightly around the pillow she had sandwiched between her chest and the bed. “The knights would still be happy working with the bad prince?”

Col hesitated answering right away, but an impertinent answer would certainly upset her.

“I think that depends on how firmly they believe in their cause.”

Eve had said that a knight order is a tool.

“If the pope is pulling the strings behind the scenes and secretly working with the second heir, then I feel Sir Wintshire may have been more at ease, and in a way, that might be closer to what he would want as a knight.”

He would have to be broad-minded enough to attack the kingdom, who was the Church’s enemy. He would most certainly have come up with an excuse to accomplish that. They were all knights, after all. They would happily crawl in the mud if their master commanded it.

But if they did not have the pope’s backing, and they were to work with the second prince simply to keep themselves afloat, then that put the situation in an entirely different light.

Even if they were doing the exact same thing, the nature of the poison would change and hurt the one doing the deed.

Fame and results.

People find pain if a thing is not accompanied by one or the other.

“Which means that Miss Eve believes that she can prepare a cause for them.”

“I can’t imagine. We don’t even know what kind of evil the king is,” Myuri said, sulking. She was correct.

The king was not perfect, of course, but he was not misgoverning so badly that the people were angry enough to want him strung up. The goal of this fight with the Church was the abolition of unfair taxes as well, so he had steady support from his people. It was almost impossible to imagine the knights would be offended over that, and instead side with the second prince believing it to be more just.

As Col sat in his chair and sighed, a thought came to him.

“That must mean those sided with the second prince must believe in something.”

“Huh?”

Myuri rolled over onto her back, grabbed the puppy that was playfully toying with her tail, lifted it up into the air, and looked at him.

“Aren’t they just the same as that evil fox?”

“Do you mean the tremendous compensation for when he successfully takes the throne?”

Eve was most certainly supporting the second prince for the privileges and other commercial compensation.

“Or maybe he’s just siding with other nobles who hate the king.”

“So…she’s taking advantage of the situation to help him, then.”

That felt too simple to him. The second prince was crossing a precarious bridge where it was hard to tell when he may be put on the gallows for inciting a rebellion, but it was most certainly more dangerous for nobles. That was still true, even though talk of usurping was still not much more than a rumor, and there was no clear evidence to show plainly that was what he was after.

It still made no sense to Col, and Myuri’s eyes swam around the room as she thought.

She brought the puppy down to her chest, and it started licking her chin.

“…Since that calculating fox is on their side, that means they have a good chance of winning.”

Myuri grabbed the puppy by the scruff of its neck as it tried to shove its nose into her mouth.

“Do they have a chance of winning?”

It was a very fundamental question, and she immediately answered herself.

“They must do, I’m sure. I mean, if they add the knights to the mix, then they’ll have an even bigger chance of winning.”

The puppy rolled off Myuri as she sat up.

The puppy, mistaking her action as one of play, bit at her wrist, tail wagging.

“Brother?”

Myuri grabbed the puppy by the neck and pulled it up to her face and growled at it, then continued.

“Didn’t God say, know thine enemy and you shalt win all your battles?”

“…I doubt God ever said something so violent.”

There was some truth to it, though.

“I actually think the fox is going to guess what we’re planning on doing and then push us in that direction, and that annoys me.”

Myuri placed the puppy on the bed, and it lay down beside her, its tail wagging as it always was.

“Will you be watching our back?”

It was entirely possible that this also was part of Eve’s plans, which meant that they had to be extremely wary of their surroundings at all times.

When Col said that, Myuri grinned and drew her legs in to sit cross-legged.

“I’m making sure you don’t step on any stray dog’s tails.”

Though he smiled wryly at her phrasing, he still decided this was a good time to take the first step.

He stood from his chair, and she did the same.

When they told Eve they would be going out, it was hard to tell if that pleased her, but she did not ask where they were going.

“I can tell if someone’s following us, though.”

Myuri was just as skilled as a professional when it came to hunting in the forest. She could even circle around and cut off a deer that was minding its tail.

That alone was enough to bring Col comfort, but she boasted a formidable strength that was her wolf’s blood.

“The city strays are on my side.”

Befriending the animals that wandered the city was an old trick of nonhumans that Myuri learned from Ilenia the sheep. Eve could not buy the strays, so the advantage was on their side.

“What about now?”

“None. Either because they found us out, or they already know where we’re going.”

Both were likely.

Col and Myuri headed to a run-down building in a quiet cluster of houses at the end of one of Rausbourne’s mazelike alleys.

“Chiiickeeen!” Myuri called, and a bird perched atop the roof chirped, then hopped into a gap between the roofs. Col was poking Myuri’s head when the peeping window on the door angrily slid open.

“Go to the market if you want a treat, dog.”

“Grrr!”

Their conversation would make one wonder if they were actually close friends, but when it was finished, the peeping window slid shut, and the door swung open after the lock was undone.

“Good news or bad news?”

“That is what we would like to confirm.”

Sharon huffed and jerked her chin aside, telling them to come in.

The orphanage that Sharon and Clark maintained was filled with the distinct scent of children, one that smelled somewhat like spilled milk. But the reason it was empty inside was because Clark and the children were out working.

“We get load after load of wool at this time of year. Every company needs hands for spinning the wool, so this is when the kids have a chance to make money.”

One who does not work shall not eat. This was not the home of ample donations.

“So? Is this about the Knights of Saint Kruza?”

“Fundamentally, yes.” Sharon furrowed her brow when Col broached the subject. “We would like to ask about the second heir.”

Sharon seemed a bit confused as to why they wanted to know about that, so they told her about Eve and the proposal Wintshire offered back in the cathedral.

“Miss Sharon, when you were in charge of the tax collection association, it was the second heir that issued the tax collection permits that served as your justification to act, correct?”

“Yeah. But it’s not like I know the guy.”

“Really?” Myuri asked, poking at a deformed doll made of wool that had been crafted by one of the children.

“Why would I ever meet him? He’s not the kind of guy you can just walk up to. Not even for that blondie of yours.”

“Oh, okay. I mean, we’d get a lot of important people visiting our baths at home all the time, so,” Myuri said with a snobby, composed look, and Sharon turned a dubious eye on her.

“We do not mind any rumors you may have heard of him, though.” Col grabbed Myuri by the scruff of her neck, who looked smug at having dealt a solid blow to Sharon, before asking his question. “About his character or anything.”

“His character? I’ve only got rumors at best.”

“We do not know anything about that, either. We are perplexed by Miss Eve’s notion that the Knights of Saint Kruza may be working with the second heir, you see.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes in displeasure, then looked off into space as though sighting a distant prey.

“Did the knights come here under the pope’s orders?” she asked

If they were working together, then that was the first possibility that came to mind.

“The impression I had when we met during noon mass was that the pope is not involved at all, for better or for worse.”

Though Col did not outright say they had been abandoned, Sharon seemed to comprehend that.

“That would mean the knights would be cooperating with him voluntarily.” She seemed suspicious of that. “The second prince and the rest of them are insurrectionists who stamp on the principles of master and servant from the perspective of the knights. I highly doubt they’d work together.”

“So you think the same.”

Sharon shrugged.

“So that’s why you’re looking into the second heir, huh. To see where it all connects.”

“You don’t know anything, then, chicken?”

Myuri sounded disappointed, and Sharon’s mouth twisted in a way that made it look like she was about to click her tongue.

But in the end she sighed and drew up her shoulders, as though deciding it was stupid to keep entertaining the farce.

“Even the kids here know about the rumors and anecdotes. He is famous, after all. The impression I get from these rumors tells me that he’s not the kind of guy that the knights would want to work with.”

“I do not mind stories like that, either.”

Sharon folded her arms in front of her chest and said dryly, “He’s always been known for his debauchery.”

From what little they had heard from Hyland, he sounded much like a speculator—a faithless, unreliable character.

“What is true is that he’s gone on a spree with the kids of his noble henchmen. I spotted them around here and there when I was gathering up the other tax collectors. They had chefs carrying a big boat made out of bread, and drank like fish as they paraded around. They were calling it a voyage on a sea of alcohol.”

Col did not quite understand it all, but what he did understand was that they were doing outrageous things.

Myuri, who loved the cheer that came with festivals, sat next to him, eyes sparkling.

“But they’re not like other degenerate nobles you often hear about; they don’t abuse people, and the people don’t ostracize or hate them, either.”

“Is that so?”

A noble who did not work and went on boisterous merrymaking sprees sounded like enough to earn the people’s antipathy.

“I guess people like how they party…When I saw them, they ended by bringing the whole bread boat to an almshouse and stood shoulder-to-shoulder celebrating with people who had nothing left to look forward to in life, people who’d given up. You know what I mean by that, right?”

It was hard to call the act one of purely high morals, but it did mean that they were openhearted people who were good at the core.

“They also like to tease the Church. I’ve heard that they’ll surround a church with stone furnaces and start roasting lamb early in the morning to smoke them out. It sounds like something they’d do.”

Myuri had her ears and tail out, enjoying the story, and Sharon seemed to like that when she saw her.

“I remember that the whole lamb-roasting happened because the Church was reluctant to give charity to the poor. From most of what I’ve heard, the prince was always on someone’s side.”

“The sheep is always with the people…is that what you mean?”

“That’s how you’d end those stories, yeah. So because of that, people excuse his debauchery not because he’s a royal—it’s because he always takes the people’s side. I hear that the lamb roasting story ended with them apologizing for what they did and then sending the Church lamb sausage.”

Col wondered if that was a suitable apology, but Sharon gleefully continued.

“But the intestines were just stuffed full of useless offal, and there was even some soap in there. It was to tell them that it was fitting for a scheming bunch of people like them, especially since they didn’t stop eating meat. It’s a classic story that the greedy priests were literally frothing at the mouth. Once you know about how arrogant the Church is, the story makes you feel really good.”

Myuri was clutching her stomach in laughter.

Col, however, was starting to get a clearer view of the second prince’s personality.

He was a nonconformist, a problem child who was naturally filled to the brim with a rebellious spirit in the face of authority.

“Then those who have taken the second heir’s side must be charmed by that sort of personality.”

Stories that denounced the snobbish and powerful were always popular with the masses.

They would support the second prince’s bid for the throne, riding on his energy that was essentially that of a hero in a type of comedy.

When that thought occurred to Col, he was immediately beset by a terrible sense of unease.

Would anyone really lend a hand in something so bloody as a usurpation for such simple reasons?

If it failed, then the fate awaiting all these people was a beheading. It was too high a price to pay for what amounted to just a prank.

“The reason it sounds so plausible that he’s aiming for the throne lies in the cause of his parties; it’s not the result of them.”

“…What?”

The second prince laughed in the face of authority, so of course he would challenge the king, the greatest authority in the land.

It sounded logically possible, but something still did not quite add up.

The first reason was that Col was unsure if anyone could plot treason so casually.

The other reason was what Myuri had mentioned back in the manor.

There was no justice there.

“Most of the people following Heir Klevend are lesser nobles and noble children with nowhere else to go,” Sharon said, taking the unsightly doll made by one of the children in her hand.

A rare, gentle smile crossed her face; perhaps she was thinking of the child who had made it.

“You know about the first son inheritance systems the nobles have, right? Younger sons that won’t be taking over the family estate are sent away from home with a bit of pocket change, unless they’re a part of a real merciful family. Some of them have talent for business, and some master academics to become public servants, but most of them wander the world with nowhere to go. People call Heir Klevend the chief of the malcontents. He’s the king of the sport of dispiriting all the people who arrogantly rest on their laurels. They treat him like nothing more than a backup for his older brother, the next in line for the throne, after all. I heard for a time that they were going to send him off to be a knight so that…he would…stop…”

The rest of Sharon’s sentence never made it out of her mouth.

Col and Myuri, too, stared at Sharon wide-eyed.

“The knights are the same,” Col remarked.

Sharon’s half-open mouth shut when he said this.

“People who become knights were no longer needed by their families, and saw a path with the sword.”

“Do you mean that’s where things connect?”

This degenerate prince laughed in the face of ceremony and authority, and mercilessly disparaged them.

The noble knights lived by ceremony and faith, keeping justice locked inside their armor.

Though they were on opposite ends of the spectrum, they came from the same circumstances; it was likely that the only thing that made them different was that they had taken different paths.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that one of the reasons the king and the oldest prince don’t take the high hand with the second heir’s debauchery is because they feel guilty,” Sharon said briefly. “They protect their family fortunes by chasing out their younger brothers, like how a bird would drop small and weak chicks from the nest. You often hear that wishing their siblings grow up living impactful lives is just a selfish way for the powerful to feel like they’ve redeemed themselves.”

The other tax collectors who had followed Sharon had been abandoned as illegitimate children of the clergy.

The knights were people who had been chased from their families because they were not eligible to take over their households, and just as they had found a place of their own as knights, they were about to lose it again. That is when the second heir would reach out to them.

Why don’t we give all those people who get the easy life by excluding us a good scare?

“If they work with the second heir, then they’ll be an antagonistic force against the king,” Sharon murmured, pulling Col out of his dark thoughts. “From the pope’s perspective, then the knights would’ve gotten hold of precious firepower to fight against the king. It’s a good enough possibility that he might change how he sees the knights from the kingdom.”

Eve had called the knights tools.

Unneeded tools, tools without use.

“I feel like there is a chance that the knights might cling to that hope. Your suggestion is way better than that in my opinion, though. The best parts of a play I will look on with a smile, but this gives me more energy to smile.”

Wintshire must have thought along the lines of the second heir and proposed the previous idea.

By working with the second heir, then there would be glimmers of a full-out war in the future. Just as the old knight had mentioned in their meeting in the cathedral, not only were they at the right hand of the pope and protectors of faith, they were also people of the Winfiel Kingdom.

Wintshire said he would have to turn his sword on the people of his homeland, but he may have been genuinely apprehensive about that possibility. After all, the knights hid dark things in the deepest parts of their hearts in regard to the Winfiel Kingdom.

They had been ejected from their homes because they were unnecessary for the succession of their families, and their donations had been halted because they did not line up with the country’s politics. Not only that, it was the very conflict between the kingdom and the Church that made everyone around them doubt the sincerity of their faith.

When they drew their swords against their homeland, the oil of hatred would most certainly make their swords slide better.

But they were knights precisely because they wielded their swords in the name of faith, so they were no longer knights if they were wielding them in the name of hatred.

That was clear seeing the dark flames that burned in Myuri’s eyes when she talked about the Moon-Hunting Bear.

She was essentially a different person at that point, and it was hard to watch someone so precious to him have her eyes turn that color.

It was preferable that their idea to draw out the Twilight Cardinal turned out to be nothing more than a farce.

“These people never had a place of their own, something everyone else took for granted. Or maybe they finally got one for themselves, only for it to be under threat now.”

Sharon, who was creating a home for children who had nowhere to go, took a deep sigh, her arms folded.

“To be honest, I wish these Knights of Saint Kruza would just leave Rausbourne. If they start stirring up unnecessary chaos in the country, then it’ll be harder to keep our monastery, and there’ll be even more unfortunate kids if a war breaks out. But…” The eagle avatar looked like an unfeeling, empty hunter. She placed the ungainly doll back on the shelf. “I also understand the logic of the people eliminating the weak. I can hear it in my head: There’s nothing we can do, please understand.”

The world was unfair; it was not made to be kind to all. The god that was supposed to have built the scales of equality for them was nowhere to seen, so they had to manufacture one on their own, but that would still put the more powerful at an advantage.

There was the second prince, who teased the Church in the company of noble children who had nowhere to go and had boats made of bread and sent them to poorhouses, and there were the knights, who despite not being able to inherit their family fortunes, spent all their time and tireless zeal on their faith and training.

They were total opposites, but their point in common was that they had fallen from the scales entirely due to their order of birth.

If they were to come together, then it would be for the worst reasons.

“Brother.” Myuri pulled on Col’s sleeve, and he exhaled the breath he had been holding.

From deep within Sharon’s orphanage came a baby’s cries.

Sharon looked in that direction, then back at Col.

“I can’t wait to see you publicly debating the knights.”

Wintshire had asked Col to praise them despite being enemies.

A public debate of preestablished harmony was foolish, but Col could imagine the results. Most knights might not like the idea of currying favor with the enemy, but there was no doubt that it would be an amicable interaction. More importantly, even if it created a shameful chagrin in their eyes, it would not light the flames of hatred. The knights would remain knights. It would be most certainly preferable to their connection with the second heir.

“All right, sorry, but the kid’s woken up now.”

“…That’s okay. Please tell Clark we said hello.”

Sharon shrugged and briskly walked off.

The private orphanage smelled uniquely of children, much like spilled milk.

How had Rhodes lived his life after he had been chased from his home?

The sudden question crossed Col’s mind.

Myuri was quiet on the way back.

There were only two paths her beloved knights could take.

There was the disgraceful choice, and there was the gloomy choice. Col hoped they did not choose the track that led to the second heir, especially because that was most certainly a pretense for war.

Neither choice was perfect, but he knew which choice would spell failure.

“Myuri.”

Col called to her; she typically walked beside him, but she now outpaced him by a few steps. She stopped in her tracks, whirled around on the flagstone path to look at him.

“I believe we should take up the proposal we received in the chapel.”

Col caught up with her and gently placed his hand on her back, and they started off again, walking together.

“I am certain it will be a difficult choice for Sir Wintshire, but it will preserve his company.”

He would be praising the knights with the king’s confirmation, so it would be much easier to give the knights money as part of the king’s good graces. An upstanding person deserved praise, enemy or not. The knights would then save face, earn food to last them for a while, and they would not be surrendering to the kingdom.

Once the pope knew how the knights contended with the detestable Twilight Cardinal as equals and how tremendously popular they were with the people of the Winfiel Kingdom, his opinion of them as a bastion that could destabilize the kingdom’s footing would most certainly heighten.

There would of course be those who would see the convenient outcomes as contrived deception, and Col could see the truth getting out in the form of rumors. But the old knight would take on all the discord on his own. The one at fault was Col himself, the one who made the easy decision.

And thus, the company would continue to exist.

It was a realistic end to things.

“It might be a sad choice for you, though.”

“No, not at all,” she said, and lifted her head, offering him a brave smile so as not to worry him, but Col saw right through her.

“I am going to do all in my power to play the enemy of the Knights of Saint Kruza,” Col said, and Myuri was shocked. “You compliment me quite a bit, but I am going to let the people know that the knights are no less equally matched.”

Myuri held Col in very high esteem, so she might surely find relief from her pain by showing her beloved knights they were worthy of the same respect.

Because her logic said the knights were just as amazing as he was.

Col gripped her shoulders, hoping to keep her mood up, but she gave a slight shrug and batted his hands away.

“Brother?”

“Ah, yes?”

“I just adore you. I haven’t complimented you in any way in particular, though.”

“What?”

“It’s Blondie and the other townspeople I don’t know who always compliment you.”

“…”

As Col wordlessly searched his memory, he had a feeling that she might be right.

He immediately grew embarrassed by his overconfidence.

Just when he thought it was a good opportunity for him to make great strides, he ended up stumbling just like this. But someone was there to grab his arm—and it was none other than Myuri.

“But I know what it is that you’ve settled on, Brother.”

There was a soft smile on her face, which was entirely different from when she smiled in amusement.

Myuri tugged on Col’s arm, breaking his composure, and she stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“That’s what I love most about you.”

Col found himself abashed that she had managed to take him by surprise twice in a row, but he told himself that at least the first time was his own doing.

That said, he did not mind as long as his feelings had managed to reach her.

He sighed, remnants of all sorts of thoughts and worries exiting his body, and he breathed in the new spring air.

“Now that we have made our decision, let us go, quickly. Word of the knights’ arrival must have reached the second prince’s camp by now. We must settle this before they arrive with reprehensible plottings. We must not let Sir Wintshire’s decision go to waste.”

Myuri’s red eyes widened and she bared her fangs.

“Okay!”

She hugged his arm tight enough to stop the blood flowing through it, and as they started to walk, she said, “Heh-heh. You acting? I’m kind of worried I might start laughing.”

“…”

Col gave her a frown, and she responded with an impish grin.

He was astounded at how wicked of a wolf she was, but he was still relieved that she got some of her energy back.

In the end, it seemed that Eve did not, indeed, send anyone to talk to them.

When they returned to the manor, Myuri announced her hunch frankly to the older woman, who wore a rather exasperated look.

“You think I’m constantly scheming?”

“You’re not?”

At that moment, Eve’s hand snapped out to pull the grape basket toward herself, and it made her seem surprisingly childish.

“The situation will not definitively change very much with the knight’s attaching themselves to the second prince. That’s why I’m just carrying on with a more secure trade.”

“What sort?”

As the short comedy between Myuri and Eve played out—Myuri leaning over the table to reach for the grape basket in Eve’s arms, and Eve pushing the girl back—the umbrella girl smiled and brought over a new basket.

“After talking to you two, I immediately sent word to Yagine in the cathedral. I got his promise that I would be procuring the goods the knights would need and accepting and exchanging the any donations they’d get once your farce was over. The king might offer money to the knights in one way or another, too, so we most definitely will be relying on that.”

Eve was always one step ahead, and she always worked fast.

As Col breathed a sigh of admiration, Myuri, now with her own basket, popped a grape into her mouth.

“So this is just one part of the share, then.”

“It’s not one part. This is the whole share.”

“You’re stingy!”

Col smiled dryly at their interaction—they acted like sisters distant in age—when Eve suddenly spoke up.

“Ah, right. Let me just say this for your own good.”

“What is it?” Col asked in turn, and he spotted a wicked glint in Eve’s eyes.

“Say you acknowledge them as your enemy. That’s when the people will see the knights.”

“…All right.”

“Don’t think that’ll be the end of things.”

His mind blanked for a few moments.

“…What?”

“It means they might take both grape baskets!”

Myuri reached out over the table in an attempt to snatch Eve’s basket.

But Eve lightly brushed her away.

“Both? What do you mean?”

“It means when you acknowledge the knights as the ones you’re up against, then they might use that momentum to go ahead and start working with the bad prince. C’mon, think!” Myuri exclaimed.

“The greater the prestige, the greater the bargain,” Eve added.

Myuri’s ears and tail popped out in the middle of their interaction, having been treated so lightly, and she lay stomach-down on the table in vexation. The umbrella girl laughed and laughed as she patted Myuri’s head.

“Well, if you make a solid plan ahead of time, I doubt there will be any problems, though.”

Eve popped a grape of victory into her mouth.

“For better or for worse, the knights are a simple bunch. Show them the road to victory, and they’ll keep their eyes and feet on the path.”

She talked about them like they were cattle, but it made some sense.

A good part of the knights’ courage was owed to their simple honesty.

“It’d be a shame if they were to die off,” Eve said, leaning back in her chair. “I’d say I’m fond of war epics, too.”

The symbol of the knights was of crossed swords before the crest of the church.

No matter what Eve said, her heart was still of that of the Winfiel Kingdom.

“I will do what I can, but…”

“Hmm?”

Eve turned to look at Col, and he continued.

“But do not get too greedy for unfair profits.”

Eve’s shoulders shook as she laughed, having been caught on the wrong foot.

Communicating via letter over important matters was unreliable, so Col contacted Hyland through the soldiers stationed at the manor.

And so a reply came quickly, which was that since the knights were not present in the cathedral, they would be able to meet right away. The knights were apparently officially touring the district in the city where swordsmiths and artisan workshops were concentrated since they would be participating in the festival for the patron saint of the swordsmiths’ guild and blacksmiths’ association.

“Aww, I wanna go!”

Myuri, who had heard from one of the manor’s boy servants that there would also be sword demonstrations, immediately threw a fit, but Col of course ignored her. As he pulled the grumbling girl out to town, he had a feeling somehow that the crowd was flowing in one single direction. Or perhaps it was because Myuri kept looking in that direction, where the artisans’ quarters were.

“Eeeveryone’s going to the festival,” she said; there was a strong flavor of sarcasm to her statement.

And as they arrived at the cathedral, Col was bewildered by the fact that there was a constant crowd there, though it was not as packed as it was during noon mass. He reckoned things were only going to get worse in the hours to come, since people finishing work would then be joining for evening mass.

The thought crossed his mind, so he asked Hyland about it when they reunited, and Hyland only shrugged.

“More and more people have been coming, even before the knights arrived. It seems people from neighboring towns are going out of their way to come for a visit. I think it’s less that the knights are here, and rather because most chapels and churches in cities across the kingdom are still closed.”

If one calculated how many days had passed since the recent uproar in Rausbourne, now would be about the time when those starved for faith in nearby settlements would have finally arrived after hearing word of the incident and taking the time to prepare for a trip.

“It would be nice if other churches in other cities would open their doors, though.”

“The pope certainly seems terrified of that possibility, but what would you say is the reality of the situation?” Col asked.

The king and his advisers judged that time was on the kingdom’s side.

“It is possible that…it may have been the last straw on the camel’s back somewhere, but we’ve received no further news, as of yet. The only churches that have opened up so far are in the cities you’ve passed through. Do you understand why you get so much attention now?” Her question was teasing. “And if things develop too far, then that alone would be enough for the Church to solidify their attitude. It would be nice if we could find a way to reopen religious services here in the kingdom while also making sure not to irritate the Church too much.”

Three years was much too long.

People were carrying out baptisms for newborns on their own, regional elders were messily reading aloud wedding vows, and the people were offering their prayers as they interred their dead through fuzzy memory and tears.

All in the meanwhile, with church doors closed and revenue cut off, the clergy either eked out a living on the stashes of assets, or crossed over to the mainland in search of benefices.

The test of patience was like a siege—neither side was getting any happiness out of this.

“And I reckon the truth for many of these churches is that the inside smells much too rotten to even open the doors. It’s lamentable, really.”

Even the Brondel Abbey, which Col and Myuri had visited not too long ago, was distant from a wholesome, faithful lifestyle. Col believed that it was the monks themselves that doubted him and Myuri more than Huskins did.

Their gates were surely kept closed not just because it was the pope’s orders, but because they were likely hiding something that would cast suspicion on them. They did indeed end up having their assets sold off when their bad business practices caught the attention of others once.

That said, it was clear that if the king were to directly reach out to the closed churches, it would certainly stir the pope’s anger. It would prompt an even more intense response than the tax collection permits issued by the second prince.

Col thought it would be nice if the Church could purify itself, but something suddenly tugged on his mind.

As he thought of what that might be, Hyland spoke.

“But at the same time, making the pope’s blade shine would be a dangerous decision in a way.” Hyland sighed. “No, let’s keep this positive.” She smiled. “It really helped that you made the decision here.”

“Oh, of course,” Col responded lightly, and as he side-eyed the thought that came across his mind, he added, “Taking into consideration the possibility of the second heir and the knights working together, this plan has considerably less harmful side effects.”

“We couldn’t talk about that in front of Wintshire, but…I bet you were surprised when you saw Eve in the manor, weren’t you?”

There was a hint of guilt in Hyland’s smile, and Col smiled in return.

“Miss Eve seemed rather vexed at the suggestion that we suspected her of scheming, but I believe that was the right decision.”

“By the way, is she really not conspiring for the second heir and the knights to work together?”

“She said she spoke with Archbishop Yagine to secure a profit that aligned with our plan. She is hoping to secure an allowance for the goods the knights might need in the future, as well as money changing practices for the donations they might receive.”

A mixed expression crossed Hyland’s face—one that was partially surprised, partially relieved.

“I guess she’s fine with anything, so long as it lines her pockets.”

“She is reliable in that sense.”

Hyland shook her head, as though telling him she was having a hard time understanding.

“But we never know when and where we might run into interference. I want to proceed with talks quickly.”

This was in regard to name rather than reality. They would need to bulk up the truth while the townsfolk were still enamored with the knights, and before the knights were distracted by superfluous issues.

“The problem is that Wintshire always has someone with him. He has social functions all day, starting first thing in the morning tomorrow, so it is terribly difficult to arrange things to happen behind-the-scenes.”

“What about at night?” Myuri asked, and Hyland took on a tired expression.

“I took the knights lightly—they are extremely skilled. There’s always a watchman with him all night. I want to praise the Knights of Saint Kruza for living up to their name, but it’s causing me quite a bit of trouble right now.”

Myuri was purely and innocently delighted to hear how amazing the knights were.

“And he has a guard right next to him during the day as well.”

“They’re being so cautious…Maybe the pope really is sending assassins?”

Myuri was drawn in by the sense of adventure in the situation, but Hyland gave a smile that was almost dry.

“That might be what they have in mind. But if the pope is indeed going to do such a thing in the kingdom, of all places, then I doubt the knights would have been able to set sail and leave the island in the first place. And he could have captured them while they were still at sea, too.”

“Maybe the king’s sending an assassin.”

Hyland’s smile wavered when Myuri brought that up.

The possibility of an assassin was what the knights themselves were thinking.

No one would be happy to learn that they themselves were of no consequence.

“Anyway, the knights are out all day today because of the swordsmiths’ and artisans’ festival. We can’t talk tomorrow, either. I really hope I can secure some time the day after, somehow.”

“…That is a long time to wait.”

They were extremely lucky to have been able to talk with Wintshire at noontime.

“It sure is. A messenger from the second heir might already be on the way as we speak. But knights value promises more than merchants do. If we exchange pledges, then I think things will go well.”

When taking the knights’ reliability into account, it was hard to imagine that Wintshire would so easily overturn a decision already made, even if the second prince tried to lure him onto his side.

“Still, all we can do is wait until Wintshire has a free moment. I want to avoid pushing it and then having the plan exposed to the other knights. And I’ll send a fast horse to the king immediately. The knights are neither friend nor foe, so I’m sure he’s greatly troubled by their appearance. He’ll surely be delighted to hear the good news.”

Even if thirty fighting men were of no use militarily speaking, there was still a symbolic factor to be had. Just as Myuri had said before, a knight that resided in the people’s imagination had the strength of a thousand soldiers.

The king may even be hoping that they leave the kingdom without a big fuss just by letting someone else take credit for the success.

From a long-term perspective, there was also the kingdom’s relationship with the Church to consider, which Hyland had mentioned before.

“But waiting time is not idle time. We still have procedures for the new monastery to take care of. We have lots of things to do, for better or worse.” Hyland offered Col a considerate smile before turning to Myuri. “Did you finish buying all the furniture?”

“Yup. That’s done, and I already gave the bill to Miss Eve.”

“You really are the daughter of a talented merchant, aren’t you?”

“Right? I almost thought about becoming one myself.”

Lawrence would be overjoyed if he heard that.

“However, I have heard that the planned site for the monastery building is on land much rougher than we imagined…”

When Col told Hyland what Sharon had told him, Hyland made a look as though she had just swallowed something sour.

“I’ve heard it’s been empty for quite a long time, but had been properly tended to…Once Sharon and Clark give me the report, I’ll see if I can recruit some workers.”

Col bowed his head, thanking her for all her contributions.

“By the way,” Hyland said abruptly, in an almost theatrical, suggestive tone. “How did the crest research go? Learn anything interesting?”

She seemed just as, or even more so, invested than they were.

While Col felt delighted that Hyland was so interested in them, he felt uneasy at how Myuri looked at him with such fiery eyes.

“Can I tell her?”

He realized she was talking about the absurd story about the bear. He doubted she would make such a blunder as revealing the truth behind them, but she was clearly desperate to tell someone about the story she came up with.

“Be careful not to bother her too much.”

Myuri took that as permission to speak as she pleased and told Hyland about how there were few crests of wolves, then linked it to the topic of bear crests, then even incorporated the suggestion that perhaps the sheep in the kingdom’s coat of arms had wool that was a bit too short.

Hyland was in a good mood the entire time, either because she was interested in Myuri’s story, or because she was simply delighted to be talking with her.

As Col watched the peaceful exchange between the two, he turned to the crest of the Church hanging on the wall and prayed that the plan they had struck with the knights would go well.

Myuri ultimately went to watch the patron saint festival being held by the sword-related guilds.

There was a chance that a problem might arise in their plan if a knight saw Col and happened to remember his face if he ventured into the festivities, but that was not the case for Myuri. He had no counterargument for when Myuri pressured him with that logic, and so he bitterly watched her go as she merrily made her way to the event. When he saw her return well after sunset with a wooden sword smugly attached to her hip, he could do naught else but sigh.

The next day, the knights were called to join in celebrating the completed refitting of one of the great trading company’s big ships. Myuri, of course, wanted to see the big ship, so it was a given that she wanted to join in the celebration.

Col ultimately lost out to the silent pressure, but with Myuri away, he could continue with his vernacular translation of the scripture in their quiet room. As he thought about how their interests complemented each other, he carried on with his work alone in the room.

When evening time came, a letter arrived from Hyland; she had finally gotten a grasp on Wintshire’s schedule for the following day.

They would be holding a special worship service for the clergy who were coming from neighboring parishes, and Wintshire would be attending as representative of the knights. The rank-and-file knights would be attending normal mass, which meant there would be a time in which Wintshire would be without any other knights, just like last time.

The letter said that this was when they would finalize the secret oaths that would put their plot in motion, and set the rough outline of events with Wintshire. Col briefly reviewed the plan—they were first going to hold a public catechism and impress the populace with the debate. By curious coincidence, that was exactly what Sharon had said. It was a scene often found in legends of saints, so Col felt somewhat embarrassed when he thought about himself playing a part on that stage.

“Whatcha reading, Brother?”

“Whoa!”

As Col sat reading his letter from Hyland, Myuri suddenly stuck her head up through his arms. Before he could even wonder when she came back, he scrunched his face up at the smell.

“Oh, Myuri, why do you smell so strongly of fish?”

“What? I do?” Myuri’s ears and tail appeared, and she sniffed her own clothes. “I think it’s because I was getting fed fried fish all over the harbor. It was really good.”

“Good grief…”

Not only that, but there was a dampness to her, perhaps because she had been along the coast, in the salty sea wind all day.

“Go ask for some bath water and clean yourself.”

“Okaaay.”

“Ears and tail!”

Just as she was about to leave the room, she shook her head and hips in an exaggerated manner, hiding all trace of her wolf parts, as though telling him she already knew. Col sighed at her antics and began to write a letter in response to Hyland.

With the Knights of Saint Kruza and the Twilight Cardinal reciting public catechisms, that meant they needed to select subject matter that would easy for the city folk to understand. He looked through the scriptures, wondering which excerpts would be best, and wrote down potential passages. Wintshire would most certainly have some questions regarding faith he would want to appeal to the public in order to clarify his organization’s position, so Col took care to make it easy to incorporate all that.

He opened the scripture again—he had read it so carefully for his translation work, he practically memorized it at this point. As he poured all the knowledge he had into his letter, Myuri loudly poured hot water into a large washtub, so it took a lot of work for him to stay focused.

Then, as his ink started to run due to the thick steam, Myuri said, “Brother, wash my hair!”

Her clothes were already off, and she was ready. Myuri was totally unashamed, and there was no way Col could draft theological catechisms with her right there. He placed his pen down in defeat and rolled up his sleeves.

“Eh-heh-heh!”

He picked up the soap—a fancy sort that contained perfume, because of course it did. He scrubbed enough for it to start to foam, then began to lather Myuri’s hair; she wriggled ticklishly, and her wolf tail whipped around, splashing water.

The puppy who never left Myuri’s side lay on its stomach a few paces away, perhaps afraid of the water in the tub.

“Oh yeah. I made the chicken watch the cathedral to make sure there’s no suspicious people coming and going.”

“What?” Col asked in surprise, and Myuri turned back to look at him over her shoulder, which was flushed from the hot water.

“Brother, did you think I was just out playing the whole time?”

His silence was his answer.

Her tail deliberately splashed in the water, wetting his foot.

“I was looking for any suspicious people during the festival, too, but I didn’t really spot any there, either. If the bad prince sent someone there, I’d still probably be able to pick them out in a crowd.”

It sounded like a young girl’s boasting at first, but Myuri was in reality a very skilled hunter.

And since she had said all that on top of asking for Sharon’s help, then it was reliable information.

“Things should go well so long as you don’t bungle it all.”

“I may not be able to remember the lines to other performances, but I will be fine with catechisms.”

He was rather worried that he might get too involved.

“Oh yeah, you’d get all into it with the old beardy guys at home, too.”

“You always called it a waste of time, but see how it is serving us well now?”

When Col rinsed the bubbles from her hair, she flattened her wolf ears and stuck her fingers in her human ears.

It was also her way of saying that she could not hear him.

After pouring some of the hot water over her hair a few more times, he lightly patted her somewhat bony back.

“There, now wash the rest yourself.”

“Aww.”

“I need to continue writing my letter. Wash yourself quickly before the water cools.”

With the window open, they would be able to get rid of some of the damp. He would be able to focus on writing his letter now.

Col continued writing as he listened to Myuri complain as she splashed around in the tub.

Then, she spoke up.

“Hey, Brother?”

He raised his head and turned around to see Myuri teasing the puppy by splashing it with water.

“The knights all looked like they were having so much fun. I hope the boy comes back soon.”

She was talking about Rhodes, the boy who had been entrusted with a letter requesting aid and sent running to the Brondel Abbey.

Col certainly wanted him to get a taste of the enthusiastic welcome the people of the city offered the knights.

“I hope they all make it through this and can smile at the end.”

Myuri bared her fangs at the puppy.

“Indeed,” Col replied, the fragrant smell of the soap tickling his nose.