Chapter 78

He narrowly secured a draw against that infamous ‘Black Prince’ and reclaimed Reims without bloodshed.

This was solely due to the efforts of the Holy Maiden Aurelia, and Dale also surrendered the kingdom’s capital in the name of the Holy Maiden Aurelia.

“The Holy Maiden has reclaimed the kingdom’s capital!”

“Waaaaaah!”

“The mercy and kindness of the Sister Goddesses are with the Holy Maiden!”

“The Goddess watches over us!”

The people of Reims, and indeed the British independence forces, cried out the name of the Holy Virgin.

Not the rightful heir of the Britannian Kingdom, ‘Charles VII’, but the names of the Holy Virgins, the sisters Aurelia and Sistina.

“Th-th-these people…!”

How would that very fact strike Charles VII?

‘It is I! I am the one destined to be king of this realm!’

But no one paid any mind to Charles VII, the legitimate heir of the Britannian royal house.

It was solely the Virgin Aurelia who rallied the British independence forces against the empire’s tyranny and led them, along with the powerful figures of the old kingdom who shared her vision.

It was simply that the Holy Maiden Aurelia had proclaimed him king, and thus Charles VII could become king. That was all.

In other words.

──What if the Holy Maiden did not wish for Charles VII to be king?

Charles VII was momentarily seized by the illusion that he was merely dancing as the ‘Virgin’s puppet’.

The knight of the goddess, foolishly stubborn, could never harbor the dark schemes or political motives Charles imagined. Yet nothing changed.

After all, people see what they want to see.

The Britannian Independence Army reclaimed their capital, and immediately afterward, the coronation of the king was performed by Thomas Becket, the White Mage of the Seventh Circle and the Archbishop.

By anointing him with consecrated oil, the bishop formally declared him the rightful King of Britannia.

The enemy of the Empire was no longer merely a single Britannian independence army. What they now faced was the ‘Kingdom of Britannia’s Army,’ and beyond that, the Kingdom’s strongest forces—including the knights of the Oru Master and the 7th Circle White Mage—were now supporting the Holy Maiden.

The end of the war was finally approaching.

Here on the island of Britannia, the time had come to drive the empire’s last territory from its soil.

The Imperial Territory on the island of Britannia. Burgundy, the last bastion of the Imperial Territory, ruled by the Imperial Governor.

“You, you, you utterly foolish and incompetent loser…!”

Leaving behind the endless stream of bad news pouring into the Empire, Philip pointed his finger at Dale.

“How dare you surrender Reims to the enemy without a fight! What on earth were you thinking?!”

As if rebuking Dale’s incompetence.

“Your utter foolishness in not understanding war leaves me speechless!”

“Ah, is that so?”

Dale paid no heed. As if each retort wasn’t even worth responding to.

“As expected, someone like you is utterly inadequate to lead this war…”

Seeing Dale fall silent, Philip seized the momentum and continued his tirade. Or rather, he tried to. It was at that very moment.

Snap.

A finger snapped, and sparks flew. From Philip’s mouth.

“Ugh, ugh!”

The flames were scorching Philip’s tongue.

“If you keep spouting this nonsense, I’ll burn the rest of that pig-like tongue of yours.”

Lady Scarlet, the high elder of the Crimson Mage Tower, spat out coldly. Yet no one paid any mind to Philip, writhing in agony.

The Black Prince, Lady Scarlet, Cardinal Nikolai, the Governor of Burgundy. Not even Philip’s father, the Holy Knight Count of Brandenburg.

Upon hearing Dale’s offer to hand over the capital of Reims, the Holy Knight’s initial thoughts were no different from Philip’s.

But at that drawbridge in Reims, alongside the absurd tale of the ‘Black Prince’ achieving a draw against that very Maid of Orleans… the serenity Dale displays upon returning to Burgundy, the empire’s last bastion.

“As promised, I will lead this war to victory.”

Should he fail to win the war, Dale had pledged his heart along with full responsibility for defeat. Yet why could he maintain such calm composure?

“Is there truly a way to win?”

“You can’t destroy what doesn’t exist… but.”

At the holy knight’s question, Dale nodded.

“What exists is not like that.”

His expression held conviction. As if the outcome of this war lay in the palm of his hand.

Seeing this, Count Brandenburg could not bring himself to smile.

He could only think of this war ending in victory and the ‘Black Prince’s’ fame resounding throughout the entire Empire.

The outcome when, despite the historic defeat where the reckless Philip squandered half the imperial army, he commanded the besieged imperial forces to destroy the ‘Kingdom of Britannia’ and seize victory.

But there was no other way.

For the Geas had already been engraved upon the Sacred Knight’s heart—compelling absolute obedience to Dale’s orders throughout all subsequent operations, and further entrusting him with the treatment of prisoners captured in battle.

There is no battle without wounds. This held true even for the victorious independence army.

No, achieving victory at all with such inferior forces was nothing short of a miracle.

Had they failed to capture Philip and seize vast military supplies just before reaching the offensive’s end point, they would have met that end point and halted the independence army’s advance.

Capturing Philip and taking Belle Port. Capturing the impregnable fortress that was thought to be indestructible. Furthermore, restoring the royal capital of Reims without bloodshed—it was no exaggeration to call it a miracle of the goddess.

But that was as far as it went.

War is driven by gold.

And around that time, Charles VII, King of the Kingdom of Britannia, was gripped by immense worry.

The existence of the sacred maiden, who threatens his position by invoking the goddess’s name. Furthermore, the fact that Charles’s finances, poured into the war of independence, are now showing their bottom.

Believing in a single revelation from the holy maiden, investments akin to pouring water into a bottomless pit have finally reached their limit.

“We must advance all the way to the imperial territories of Burgundy and drive those bastards completely out of the kingdom.”

Despite this, the Holy Maiden Aurelia refused to relent in her stance.

By the goddess’s will, until the empire is utterly driven from the island of Britannia. Until the port city of Dover, where the imperial forces first landed, is seized, and the entire island is painted the kingdom’s territory. The battle of the Holy Maiden Aurelia is not over.

She did not hesitate in fulfilling her mission. That fact was an indescribable burden for Charles VII.

“But Holy Maiden, the remaining imperial territories are but a mere fraction, are they not?”

Frankly, the war had grown tiresome.

“Due to the excessive battles already fought, the royal treasury is nearly depleted.”

This was, after all, only when excluding the ‘costs for the king’s extravagance’.

“…Didn’t His Majesty’s extravagance drain the royal treasury?”

Aurelia knew this fact well.

“I implore Your Majesty to postpone the ‘construction of the new royal palace’ you commanded and instead allocate those funds to the army.”

When the Virgin of the Castle, Aurelia, pointed this out, the emotion that gripped Charles VII was singular.

Fear.

“──In the current situation, building a new royal palace is, as Your Majesty said, nothing but a luxury that squanders the treasury.”

The daughter of a mere serf, fearlessly issuing commands before the king. Unwavering in her will. And all of Britannia’s kingdom stands united in her intent.

“How dare you…”

That the king should bow his head before the daughter of a mere serf!

“How utterly insolent before the king!”

“…Please forgive my rudeness.”

Charles roared, and the Maid of the Castle bowed her head and turned away.

“How dare you, how dare you, you daughter of a mere serf…”

As the Virgin of Orleans’ back receded into the distance, Charles VII murmured softly. His voice was twisted with unbearable humiliation and shame.

Some time later. As the seeds of discord sown by Dale began to slowly take root.

An imperial envoy arrived in Reims, the capital of the newly born Kingdom of Britannia.

It was the Imperial Commander-in-Chief, Dale of Saxony.

A chamber within the royal palace, the capital of the Britannia Kingdom.

It was not the Holy Maiden Aurelia who received the imperial envoy, Dale. For King Charles VII of Britannia was there.

Dale himself proposed a one-on-one conversation, wishing to discuss matters directly between the ‘ultimate commanders’ of this war.

“What our empire desires is peace.”

And right there at that table, Dale spoke. As if he were acting as the embodiment of the empire’s will.

“Peace?”

“It is the path to resolve conflict rationally, without further bloodshed.”

Dale stated.

“After suffering several crushing defeats, our empire no longer possesses the strength to wage further battles.”

“Is this not proof that the goddess watches over our kingdom?”

“I suppose so.”

Dale nodded without denying it.

“It’s practically impossible for the Empire to threaten the Kingdom of Britannia any further.”

It was as if defeat were staring them in the face.

“──Therefore, our Empire wishes to propose an ‘indefinite truce agreement’ to His Majesty King Charles.”

“An indefinite truce agreement?”

Not an end to the war.

“Please understand this is merely a formality to preserve the Empire’s dignity.”

Dale smiled as if to say there was nothing to worry about.

“An indefinite truce agreement…?”

Indeed, there was logic to what Dale said.

In the form of an indefinite truce, the Empire would not officially grant the Kingdom of Britannia independence. Yet as long as the truce continued, Britannia would effectively maintain a state indistinguishable from independence.

Charles’s deep contemplation continued.

“Well… there is one thing that troubles me.”

After his long contemplation, Charles cautiously opened his mouth.

“The existence of the Holy Maiden Aurelia, I suppose.”

Dale replied as if he had expected it.

The Holy Maiden Aurelia. In truth, she rallied the soldiers of a fallen nation, became their focal point, and achieved independence as the standard-bearer of salvation.

“Do you trust her?”

“I express gratitude beyond words for the Virgin’s heroic deeds.”

Charles VII answered with dignity.

“She is like a treasure to our kingdom.”

Aware of the weight the Virgin Mary’s presence carried internationally, Charles concealed his true feelings as he answered.

“Do you truly believe that?”

But Dale retorted coldly.

“The only reason Your Majesty could become king is because she desired it.”

“……!”

As if seeing straight into Charles’ heart.

“Then what do you intend to do when she no longer desires it?”

“I have no doubt whatsoever in her faith.”

Dale paid no heed to Charles’ bluff.

“That’s exactly what I was about to say.”

As if he had expected it, he pulled something from his sleeve.

“The faith of the Virgin Mary is truly beyond doubt.”

It was a letter, sealed with secrecy.

“Wh-what is this?”

“Archbishop Thomas has betrayed the White Mage Tower and willingly offered himself to become the ‘Standard-Bearer of the Holy Maiden.’”

Dale said. Archbishop Thomas Becket. A White Mage of the Seventh Circle and a High Elder of the White Mage Tower. One who willingly volunteered to become a freedom fighter for his homeland, Britannia.

“The Imperial Army’s ‘Cardinal Nikolai’… was caught attempting to deliver this secret letter to Archbishop Thomas.”

“What? What did you say?”

“Please read it.”

Dale handed over the sealed letter, and Charles VII cautiously accepted it.

─ ……(omitted) The day when the land of the goddess stands tall upon the island of Britannia is not far off.

And after reading its contents.

“Ah, ahhh…”

“Indeed.”

At last, the specter of doubt tormenting Charles revealed its true form.

“The Virgin’s ultimate goal is not the independence of the Kingdom of Britannia.”

“No, surely not.”

“Through the White Tower’s covert operations, she seeks to revive the nation of the goddess… the Church Kingdom.”

Only then did the scattered pieces of the puzzle finally fit together in Charles’ mind.

“In other words, Archbishop Thomas never betrayed the White Magic Tower.”

The reason Archbishop Thomas, a high elder of the White Magic Tower, took up the banner of the Holy Maiden.

“Because the White Magic Tower was never loyal to the Empire in the first place.”

Cardinal Nikolai of the White Mage Tower, who has joined the Imperial Army, is colluding with Archbishop Thomas.

“The victory of the Britannian Independence Army is not a ‘victory of the goddess,’ but merely the result of thorough collaboration by traitors within the Imperial Army itself.”

Dale said.

“Therefore, it goes without saying that the Holy Maiden will drive the Empire from this land, and what follows afterward.”

Charles VII could say nothing.

“After the Empire, the one the Holy Maiden will drive from this land is none other than Your Majesty, Charles.”

That’s right. Dale was correct. The miraculous victory the Holy Maiden had shown was absolutely not something she had achieved with her own hands.

It was only possible because of the White Tower’s covert actions—all for the revival of the Goddess’s nation… the Holy Kingdom. Only then could he finally understand.

“What do you think, Your Highness Charles?”

“……”

“What our empire desires above all else is peace.”

A whisper as cunning as a serpent’s.

“Would you not join forces with us for the sake of peace?”

To Charles, whose heart had grown dark, ensnared by the dark spirit, it was an offer impossible to refuse.