Chapter 75: The Great Schism of the Church (3)

“Understood. We’ll proceed as you wish.”

As soon as those words of affirmation left Carolus’ mouth, the saintess nodded in satisfaction.

Both of them rose from their seats and clasped hands in a firm yet brief handshake.

“I look forward to working with you, Your Excellency.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

The agreement was clear: the saintess would lend her name and reputation, while Carolus would use it to wage a propaganda campaign to bring down the Holy Kingdom.

Of course, this was not a decision to be taken lightly.

There was always the risk that Carolus, despite his convincing words, might use this as an opportunity to pursue personal gain.

If he were to focus solely on bolstering his own legitimacy with her reputation as the goddess’ representative, she would once again find herself exploited, just as she had been during her time in the Holy Kingdom.

Yet, the saintess chose without hesitation.

It was because of the things she had seen and experienced, even in the short time she had been here.

“During your stay, you may use this house. I’ll send servants to assist you with daily life, so please feel at ease.”

As an esteemed guest in exile, the saintess received an exceptional level of hospitality.

Even though her arrival was unannounced, she was provided with an empty mansion in the capital, along with living expenses and a staff to assist her.

“A-All of this… just for me?”

“That’s right. Oh, and if you wish to go out, please inform us in advance. We’ll arrange an escort for your safety.”

The life she was experiencing here was worlds apart from what she had endured in the Holy Kingdom.

There, she had been confined to a barred room, fed just enough to survive, and treated more like livestock than a person.

She was constantly ordered around, never allowed to make decisions for herself.

In her decade and more of life, she had never once been treated as a human being with her own thoughts and dignity.

But things were different here.

Everyone treated her with respect, acknowledging her as the saintess.

Their words were filled with courtesy and consideration, and they regarded her with reverence befitting a representative of the goddess.

For the first time, she was receiving the treatment her title and honor deserved, something she had never experienced before.

“Excuse me, may I ask you one question before you leave?”

It was a luxury so overwhelming she could have easily broken down in tears.

It would not have been strange for her to weep in joy at finally tasting freedom.

But the saintess did not.

Instead of indulging in fleeting comfort, she chose to use the moment to gather information.

“The man who brought me to this country…”

“You mean His Excellency Royten?”

“Yes. Who is he, exactly?”

Carolus von Royten.

The man who had personally infiltrated the Holy Emperor’s court to steal classified documents and rescue her.

At first, she had thought of him as merely the leader of a special forces unit.

Learning that he was, in fact, the most powerful figure in the kingdom had been a complete shock.

A brilliant commander renowned as the “Wolf of the North,” and a political heavyweight capable of steering the entire kingdom’s direction—she had wondered if she were dreaming.

And honestly, wasn’t it absurd? Someone with influence equivalent to a prime minister, personally undertaking a dangerous infiltration mission on the frontlines?

It didn’t make sense.

Even after hearing it directly from the soldier who escorted her to the mansion, she had repeatedly asked for confirmation, struggling to believe it.

Eventually, she had accepted the truth. But even then, lingering doubts remained.

Could Carolus truly be trusted?

“If you’re asking what he’s like… hmm, a great superior? Someone you can always rely on in battle, no matter what.”

Carolus von Royten was practically the highest authority in the Kingdom of Ulranor.

Having wielded such power to save her, it was clear he intended to use her for something.

No one would go to such lengths without expecting something in return.

The saintess had no formal education in politics, but she understood that much.

Having spent most of her life being exploited and used, she was acutely aware of the dynamics of give-and-take.

“I’ve been by His Excellency’s side since my cadet days. He’s saved my life dozens of times. If not for him, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

That was fine. Life, after all, was about give and take.

Helping Carolus and cooperating with him to a reasonable extent was something she was more than willing to do.

But what if he went further?

What if he used her reputation and authority recklessly for his own gain?

That was what worried her.

Thus, the saintess began to question everyone she encountered, trying to determine if her fears would become reality.

“It sounds like you trust him deeply.”

“Of course. Not just me—anyone from the Northern Army would say the same.”

She started with the soldiers.

From Lieutenant General Vaden, who had escorted her, to the soldiers patrolling the streets, the answers were all the same.

They would gladly risk their lives for Carolus.

They would follow him into hell itself if necessary.

The bond of trust shared by comrades who had endured life and death together was unmistakable.

It seemed stronger than that of most blood-related families.

Still, relying solely on the words of those within the same organization felt insufficient to the saintess.

To get a more balanced perspective, she sought out others—this time, the politicians frequenting the parliamentary halls.

“His Excellency Royten? He’s remarkable. It’s no easy feat to unite people as different in ideology and status as us.”

“Our faction survives because of the trust we place in him. If that trust faltered even a little, we’d have fractured long ago.”

“He rewards those who deliver results with matching compensation and recognition. It’s a simple principle, but surprisingly rare among leaders.”

Next, she approached civil servants working in the government.

“He’s a demanding superior with high standards, but he never takes bribes or makes unreasonable demands. That alone is satisfying.”

“While his methods can be harsh, he ensures that hard work is rewarded. Unlike other noble lords, he doesn’t just use people and throw them away.”

“He’s merciless to sycophants who cling to power through politicking, but as long as you avoid that, you’ll never be discarded unfairly.”

Finally, she spoke to Camilla von Arschach, who was rumored to be Carolus’ fiancée.

“His Excellency? Hmm… He’s surprisingly straightforward for a politician. Maybe it’s because of his military background.”

“Do you mean he never lies?”

“Not quite. It’s more like he’s very clear about how he treats people. There’s a noticeable difference between how he interacts with those he intends to stand by and those he plans to discard along the way.”

Though the answers varied, there was one consistent theme: trust in Carolus von Royten.

If you gave him your loyalty and effort, he would ensure you received what you deserved.

You wouldn’t be used and discarded on a whim.

Such trust was deeply embedded in everyone’s responses.

“…It’s not a lie.”

The saintess had met countless people and been tormented by the greed of humanity.

Despite her young age, she prided herself on her ability to discern lies.

Even through her experienced gaze, the praise for Carolus was consistent and genuine.

It wasn’t born out of coercion or fabricated to deceive her—it was a reflection of their honest opinions.

These weren’t people trying to flatter their superior by inventing compliments.

Carolus’ consistent attitude and actions over time had earned him this trust.

This wasn’t a mask he wore.

It was a reflection of his true values and principles, the essence of Carolus von Royten.

“Maybe… I should try trusting him, just once.”

After all, she had already arrived at the heart of the kingdom.

Leaving for another country at this point wouldn’t be easy.

Besides, she had never earned her own living or navigated society on her own.

Venturing elsewhere would inevitably result in hardship.

So, she decided—just this once, she would trust in Carolus’ goodwill.

The next day, the saintess accepted Carolus’ proposal without hesitation, quietly hoping her expectations wouldn’t be betrayed.

“And if it turns out well… then, maybe…”

If Carolus truly was the man everyone claimed he was—if he didn’t exploit her like others had—then perhaps she could envision a deeper, longer-lasting partnership with him.

Three days later.

The saintess attended the regular session of the kingdom’s parliament, just as planned.

She was scheduled to deliver a special speech as a political exile from a foreign nation.

“Saintess, are you ready?”

“Yes. But I can’t help feeling nervous.”

“We’ve prepared a script for you. If you need it, feel free to read from it. Take it slow.”

Receiving a light word of encouragement from Carolus before the event, she steadied herself with a few deep breaths and stepped onto the podium.

The chamber was already packed.

Every seat was filled with parliament members, waiting for her.

Clergy, republicans, soldiers, prominent intellectuals—nearly two hundred people had their eyes fixed on her.

Under their collective gaze, the saintess carefully began to speak.

“Good day, esteemed members of the Kingdom’s Parliament. I am the saintess.”

With the saintess using a miracle that automatically translated her words, her speech was conveyed flawlessly in the language of the Kingdom of Ulranor.

Her declaration as the saintess, delivered in a clear and elegant voice while dressed in a resplendent nun’s habit, caused an uproar in the chamber.

The fact that she had sought asylum was classified information, so the parliamentarians, learning of this now, were visibly shocked.

The saintess took a moment to glance around the room, gauging the reactions, before raising her voice with conviction.

“The reason I, who have spent my entire life in the Holy Kingdom, have come here is simple: the Holy Emperor’s court is so deeply corrupt and depraved that it has turned into a den of criminals.”

The room fell silent, her words cutting through the murmurs.

“The current state of the Holy Emperor’s court is more corrupt than any nation on earth. It rivals even the infamous cities of sin—Aleim and Naivenheim—that the goddess herself destroyed in ages past.”

“The clergy have forsaken faith and become obsessed with greed, using their power to hoard wealth. They indulge in every luxury imaginable with the tithes and offerings they extort from the faithful.”

“While the pious starve, they feast on extravagant meals and live in unimaginable splendor, all while demanding frugality and sacrifice from their believers.”

At first, she adhered to the carefully prepared script, using the eloquent phrases and expressions it provided.

But as she continued, her emotions began to rise, her words taking on the raw edge of her own anger and pain.

Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks as she raised her voice, pouring her fury and anguish into her speech.

She recounted the horrors of the organization she had been imprisoned within, the depth of its evil, and why it needed to be punished.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We cannot let them continue their misdeeds. Those who defy the will of the goddess and dare to invoke her name as a shield for their sins must not be tolerated!”

Her voice reached a crescendo, every word dripping with sincerity and rage.

And then, in a moment that silenced the entire assembly, the saintess performed a miracle—a divine act that only the saintess could invoke.

With the air shimmering faintly around her, she made her final declaration:

“I hereby proclaim this: the Holy Emperor’s court is heretical! They are not servants of the goddess but mere cultists in disguise. I implore the righteous heroes among you to lend your strength in bringing them to justice!”