The tension between the Lion Knights and—
the Order of Lute and the Paladins had continued for some time.
Tyrang openly tried to frame Glenn.
By persecuting the cult followers and provoking Arian’s perception of Lepent.
“How dare you persecute the Empire’s cult followers, and furthermore oppress the citizens of Arian? It’s entirely possible for a barbaric group like Lepent.”
Though obvious, these words only tightened the standoff between the two factions.
Meanwhile, Clemens focused on calming the chaos remaining in the plaza.
“It’s not the right time to question them for their faults. Even now, the lambs of the order are in danger, so it’s better to first clear up the commotion left in the plaza.”
This was the exact instruction the Paladins had received from Francis.
Help Tyrang and the Order of Lute to suppress the turmoil in the plaza and protect the believers.
As the leader of the Paladins, Clemens didn’t want to openly clash with the Lion Knights.
At the same time, Glenn carefully surveyed the situation.
“This is strange.”
At first, it seemed like a simple dispute, but now it was clearly unnatural.
The faction trying to frame Glenn was sure of their guilt and seemed intent on provoking openly.
Yet Clemens’s side showed no signs of such intentions.
Both were presumably on Francis’s side, but they clearly disagreed.
“Young master, this is not a good situation.”
“…Is there any way out of this?”
Coldly assessing the situation, there was no one to trust.
Even if they suppressed the faction trying to frame Glenn, it was uncertain whether Isabel would step in.
The presence of Saintess Monica, who remained behind, was also not to be ignored.
In other words, if a full-scale fight broke out now, the losses would outweigh any gains.
From the start, this was an act that disregarded justification; it was somewhat expected.
There was no real regret.
If he hadn’t intervened, many more would have been slaughtered without a doubt.
“If it’s a bit reckless, it might be possible. Shall we move?”
“Nothing good will come from staying here. If possible—”
While Nedian quietly discussed a plan, a group of cult followers appeared.
“Tyrang!”
“We’ve captured the heretic female priest!”
“Oh—very well done! Glory to the Goddess!”
Seeing the woman dragged along, Glenn’s expression twisted in despair.
The worst possible outcome had occurred, something completely unforeseen.
“What is the meaning of this?”
The familiar blue spring flower embroidered on her priest’s robe—no, this was not her usual appearance.
She was covered in blood here and there, looking disheveled in every way.
Most of all, the hem of Monica’s robe was stained a bright crimson.
She struggled to meet Glenn’s gaze, then slowly closed her eyes.
It was surely an expression of apology.
Watching the scene, Tyrang sneered bitterly.
“Now, have you grasped the situation roughly?”
“It’s disgusting enough to make me want to vomit. Is this the Empire’s way?”
“Oh, what a sensitive expression. Aren’t you worried your sharp tongue might get you cut?”
With a shiver—
Tyrang pressed the blade against the neck of the bound Monica.
Glenn wanted to rush forward and smash that damned faction trying to frame him.
Just as he impulsively leapt out, Nedian, teeth clenched, grabbed him.
The deputy commander looked at Glenn quietly and shook his head.
… This damned mess.
“…Why suddenly target an unrelated female priest?”
“Haha, such a pathetic excuse. So you don’t mind if we execute this heretic right here?”
Execution?
No matter how much one despised the Empire’s cult, could they really act this recklessly?
“What? She’s a priest of one of the four great orders. You can’t just—”
“That’s none of your concern, is it? You sound confused, talking nonsense.”
As Glenn protested, Tyrang pressed the blade even closer.
Blood seeped from Monica’s neck.
She grimaced in pain.
… That damned brat.
Suddenly, someone caught Tyrang’s gaze.
“…Clemens!”
Glenn shouted at the blond Paladin with anger.
Then, as if forcing himself, he asked, “Do you think that’s right?”
The bowed Paladin’s expression was hard to see.
… Why isn’t he responding? Why is he standing there silently?
Glenn knew well Clemens’s feelings toward Monica.
That fact only fueled his rage.
Was he really letting that pathetic man get away with this?
“Is this really the will of your Goddess, huh?”
“Ugh.”
“Or is this the will of your exalted Emperor? Answer me!”
At the continued questioning, Clemens finally lifted his head.
Bloodshot eyes, lips bitten raw and bleeding.
And a resolute look in the man’s gaze.
“Daring to bring up the Goddess and the Emperor! Are you truly mad… Sir Clemens?”
Instead of replying boldly, the Paladin gripped Tyrang’s blade with the gauntleted hand.
“…Put it away.”
His voice was low but slightly trembling, as if growling a warning.
Though this was clearly strange, Tyrang failed to notice.
“What nonsense is this all of a sudden?”
“I said put the blade away immediately.”
“What?”
“Erase that thought.”
Clemens’s fierce aura made Tyrang flinch slightly.
He looked ready to kill someone at any moment.
Then Clemens quietly turned to the cult followers still holding Monica.
“…Who did this to her?”
“Eh—w-why do you ask?”
“Answer me at once.”
A restrained anger radiated from Clemens, each word dripping with quiet fury.
Yes, he was quietly furious.
“We only followed the will of the Goddess!”
Taken aback by the unexpected accusation, the cult followers shouted in panic.
At their response, Clemens felt a wave of disbelief.
… The will of the Goddess?
His eyes cooled sharply.
“The will of the Goddess?”
“Yes. I am but a servant who faithfully carries out the voice of the Goddess! You cannot doubt our sincerity—”
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
What a cheap excuse, thought the blond Paladin.
Whether good or evil, you just blame everything on ‘the will of the Goddess’?
How dare you invoke the Goddess’s name?
How dare you invoke Monica’s—
“…Is it likely that a mere commoner would dare speak for the Goddess?”
“E-eh?”
The cult followers’ eyes widened.
What was he saying?
Was this really coming from Sir Clemens?
He was the kind of man who never once used his position in the order to act arrogantly.
He had always been fair, kind, and polite to everyone.
That was the usual image they had of him.
“He who cannot hear the voice of the Goddess, dares claim to hear and act on her will?”
The expression in his eyes was clear.
Anger—or was it hatred—like a tightly drawn bowstring.
“Answer me.”
“Th-that is…”
… Something was wrong.
The cult followers’ instincts sent out a warning.
“I—I told Tyrang—cough!”
With a sudden move—
Tyrang grabbed and lifted a cult follower by the throat.
The follower struggled weakly.
His eyes staring down were even more chilling than before.
“Blasphemy.”
Crack!
With a sound of something breaking, the follower’s struggles ceased as if discarded like trash.
Yet Clemens’s anger was far from spent.
“U-ugh! P-please spare me!”
“Repent.”
Slash!
A faint strike barely visible.
The flicker of a blade glanced by, severing the fleeing cult follower’s neck.
Ignoring it, Clemens caught the collapsing Monica and breathed sacred energy into her.
Now his expression was full of burning wrath.
“Wh-what are you doing, Sir Clemens?!”
Only then did Tyrang grasp the situation and shouted.
Meanwhile, Clemens did not even glance at him.
“The blasphemer was summarily executed. Any problem with that?”
“Problem? Do you really ask as if you don’t understand?! Bring that heretic woman here immediately!”
“She, Saintess Monica, is not a heretic.”
His icy gaze met Tyrang’s.
From Tyrang’s perspective, this was infuriating.
Why was this guy acting so strangely all of a sudden?
“You don’t seem to understand, but this is an order personally given by Priest Francis. So—”
“Can you take responsibility for that statement?”
“What?”
“As a Paladin, I have confirmed the facts myself. And… Priest Francis, a high-ranking order priest and the one who hears the Goddess’s voice, made that judgment. Are you calling a clumsy priest from another order a heretic?”
“Idiot! This is an order! Bring the woman here right now!”
“You have no authority to do so.”
They couldn’t get through to each other.
As the verbal clash lengthened, the Order of Lute and Paladins gradually descended into chaos.
Especially the Paladins like Clemens were troubled over whose orders to follow.
Tyrang yelled at the Paladins.
“Arrest him immediately! Clemens is committing treason!”
Meanwhile, Clemens quietly shook his head.
“Priority is to suppress the remaining chaos in the plaza. Everyone, scatter and protect the innocent.”
Strictly speaking, Clemens was their direct superior.
Francis had given him that position to gain favor.
Moreover, Clemens’s ability and character were widely respected.
Rumor even said he was the next sword of the order.
“…According to the will of the Goddess.”
In the end, the Paladins dispersed throughout the plaza as Clemens instructed.
Tyrang was beside himself with rage.
“You think you can get away with this kind of behavior?!”
He looked as if he would draw his sword and charge at Clemens at any moment.
But—suddenly someone spoke up.
“Hey.”
Glenn, who had been watching quietly since before, finally opened his mouth.
He had roughly grasped the situation.
Though unintentional, the situation had shifted to a more favorable direction than before.
“We still have some calculations left to make, right?”
“Idiot!”
Tyrang trembled with rage.
Could it be that Clemens and that scoundrel had conspired together?
No, Glenn clearly remembered the last time.
He knew that the two would growl and snap at each other the moment they met.
Tyrang’s mind was in turmoil.
Certainly, Priest Francis’s order was to capture or expel Glenn.
That meant the Lion Knights had to be forcibly subdued—but was it possible with just the Order of Lute?
He had no confidence.
If Clemens and the Paladins combined forces, it might be certain—
Smack!
Something hit his face.
Looking again, it was a gauntlet.
“You know what this means, right?”
“Huh?”
With a dazed gaze, Tyrang shifted his eyes between the gauntlet and the green-clad man before him.
The man smirked.
“Ron Glenn Lepent of House Lepent requests a duel.”
***