Ch.941Sweet Repose

While rumors about Gram’s identity could be easily dismissed with a few well-chosen words, it was impossible to deceive someone who already knew the details from the beginning.

“Lady Astika, the Archbishop Elmaine has sent a personal letter.”

“A personal letter? From Lacy?”

Lacy, who had been deeply engaged in religious activities in the Empire, had discreetly sent me an unofficial personal letter.

“Hmm… let me see it.”

I took the letter handed to me by Archbishop Bethania. After confirming Lacy’s seal on the envelope, I opened it and quickly scanned the contents.

/How have you been, Lady Astika? I hear you’ve achieved another legendary feat that has stirred the entire continent. What a blessing. May the two goddesses protect you./

The opening was quite ordinary.

How have you been? I heard you slew a dragon. Impressive. Be blessed. Nothing out of the ordinary in these initial pleasantries.

/However, regarding this matter, there are some curious—truly curious—rumors circulating./

But from there on, things took a somewhat chilling turn.

Even without hearing her voice, the gravity of the situation seemed to leap off the page.

It was clear that her reason for writing wasn’t simply to inquire about my well-being.

/’The master of Gram.’ I’ve heard that the dragons that attacked the kingdom referred to Lord Demian by this title… Do you know what this title means? No, you must already know, don’t you?/

Indeed I did.

/I’m ashamed to admit that I only learned of this through these recent rumors. How regrettable. As the chosen representative of Lady Elpinel, I should have been aware of this./

Her tone suggested she was certain I already knew the true identity of Demian’s greatsword, Gram.

This wasn’t a question about what Gram was, but rather an accusation—why had I concealed the fact that Gram was Elpinel’s holy sword?

/If it’s not too much trouble, I would like to discuss this sword with you. As representatives of our two orders, I believe this is a necessary procedure to avoid unnecessary controversy. You would agree, wouldn’t you?/

Not just an accusation, but a suggestion that we should meet to talk about it.

While her words seemed to ask for my agreement… that was merely a polite formulation.

The true intent hidden in Lacy’s letter was a warning that if I refused this discussion, a significant “controversy” would be inevitable.

Her reaction was understandable.

If she knew the sword was once called Juwayez, Elpinel’s divine artifact, she couldn’t possibly ignore this as Elpinel’s saint.

It was a momentous event—the order’s primary divine artifact had reappeared after eight hundred years, and with a new master.

And now it was in the hands of someone with no connection to the Elpinel Church? How could any devout believer tolerate such a thing?

It would be a dereliction of duty if the church’s saint heard this news and remained passive.

/Well then, I shall visit you soon. Until then, may you be at peace./

I’ll be coming soon, so wait quietly. That was the end of Lacy’s letter.

[Isn’t this serious trouble? This letter looks like a declaration of war to me.]

Hersella, who had been reading the letter through my eyes, asked with a tone suggesting this was quite the predicament.

‘Declaration of war? What an ominous thing to say.’

I let out a hollow laugh.

Just like someone from a warlike barbarian tribe—her very thinking was thoroughly steeped in violence.

Of course, if I hadn’t been the one associated with the sword’s master—the “hero”—Lacy would have been furiously proclaiming to the entire world:

If you don’t wish to face the full might of the Elpinel Church, surrender the holy sword and its master immediately.

And that wouldn’t be all. If the other party scoffed at such a proclamation, she might have actually mobilized the holy knights for war.

Shouting something like: ‘This is a holy war! A crusade to bring back the divine artifact bestowed upon us by Elpinel and its rightful master!’

However, Demian, the recognized master of Gram, was none other than a knight in my inner circle.

Therefore, it was safe to assume that the Elpinel Church’s holy knights, already overwhelmingly busy, wouldn’t be mobilized for some sudden holy sword recovery war.

‘Lacy wouldn’t go that far, would she? We’re not strangers to each other.’

How many times have I helped her, and how many times has she helped me?

Would she really resort to such extreme measures just to reclaim a holy sword?

It wouldn’t even achieve her goal, and it would only cause severe damage to the Elpinel Church.

That’s why, instead of aggressively demanding the surrender of Gram and its master, Lacy had sent a relatively conciliatory letter suggesting we meet for discussion.

Declaring war on me would be like throwing away both conscience and reason—essentially a suicide declaration.

[Well, I know that woman holds some sense of camaraderie toward you… but the woman I’ve observed wouldn’t put gratitude or friendship before faith. Isn’t that right?]

Hersella still seemed uneasy about it.

For Lacy, faith was the most important value, so if she had to weigh her faith against her relationship with me, wouldn’t the scales naturally tip toward faith?

‘Lacy isn’t that unreasonable. If she were, she would have lost her life long ago.’

I firmly rejected Hersella’s speculation.

While Lacy’s faith did border on fanaticism, unlike typical zealots, she had shown multiple times that she could compromise with reality.

If she were truly a fanatic willing to sacrifice everything else for faith, she would have died long ago.

Either by freezing to death after sending the holy knights into the Sky Mountains to exterminate werebeasts, or by disappearing while invading the Great Forest to burn fairies.

The fact that she was quietly strengthening the order’s forces within the system proved she was different from a zealot who acted solely for self-satisfaction without discerning right from wrong.

Therefore, what Hersella was worried about had zero possibility of happening.

—-

A few days later.

I summoned Kudsedra to take over combat training with my companions, then returned to the palace and sprawled halfway across the sofa in my private room, thoroughly enjoying a rare moment of rest.

Ah, how long had it been since I’d had such leisure?

Resting like this, I could finally feel vitality returning to both body and mind.

Until now, I’d been so focused on beating Demian into shape that I rarely had a proper chance to rest, even during break times.

But now I no longer needed to volunteer for such hardship.

After the extreme practical compressed education I’d been implementing, I had finally managed to pound all possible teachings into Demian’s body.

There was truly nothing more to teach him.

This didn’t mean Demian had become stronger than me, but rather that he couldn’t improve any further through sparring with me.

I’d done everything I could for him, and now it was time for him to figure out how to become stronger on his own, learning through trial and error.

That’s why I’d thrown Demian to Kudsedra with advice to properly learn how to fight dragons.

After getting the rest of the party to join that sparring session, I returned to my private room in the palace for this sweet rest.

“Sister, try this! I made it myself!”

Lena, who seemed intent on making up for lost time due to our busy schedules, was clinging tightly to my arm and nuzzling her head against me.

You’re wondering what Imara was doing while Lena was like this?

Imara had returned to Feichian. She made it clear she didn’t want to go, but… what could be done?

To govern the Ka’har refugees without issues, she needed to show her face there occasionally as their leader.

The situation was already tense with many people unhappy about accepting eastern refugees, and if they caused trouble while Imara and Jahan were away, cleaning up the mess would be extremely difficult.

“Strawberry juice? Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”

So Imara had no choice but to return to the eastern resident management zone.

Perhaps because of that, or because she now had more time to spend with me, Lena’s face had been constantly beaming with smiles lately.

“No need to thank me!”

Even now, as she handed me the freshly blended strawberry juice, she was blushing with joy, her face lit up with a bright smile.

Speaking of strawberry juice… it brings back memories.

I used to drink it often during my time at the academy.

It wasn’t really that long ago—just half a year—but I’d been so busy since then that it felt like years had passed.

Well, no matter.

I brought the glass to my lips and savored Lena’s homemade strawberry juice.

Gulp. Gulp.

…Sweet.

The sweetness was so intense it felt like my tongue might melt.

“…How is it?”

As Lena cautiously asked for my opinion, I set down the glass, wiped my mouth with a handkerchief, and smiled before speaking.

“Hmm… maybe it’s because it’s been a while, but it seems sweeter than before?”

It was sweet, tangy, cool, and smooth—but particularly impressive was the surprisingly intense sweetness.

The kind of flavor that shouldn’t be distributed in a country without health insurance.

It seemed like a sweetness that couldn’t come from strawberries alone. What else had she mixed in? Had she poured in a generous amount of sugar?

“I put lots of my love into it! That must be why!”

“Ah, I see…”

At Lena’s enthusiastic response, I chuckled and gently patted her head as a gesture of gratitude.

So sisterly love tastes like sugar.

My knowledge had expanded.

Not that it was particularly useful knowledge.