SAV 13

Chapter 13

Belphon was a territory whose lord had died in the war, and even the Kingdom of Kalia had strategically given up on reclaiming it.

Now it had been annexed as an imperial domain under direct control of the Aleban royal family—one of Lionel’s many achievements. Donating such a land to the Miness Church carried significant weight.

Isabel carefully opened her mouth.

“Your Highness… Forgive my impertinence, but may I offer a humble opinion?”

“Go ahead.”

“This document will likely affect the Empire’s overall strategy.”

In simpler terms, she was asking whether this donation had been approved by the Emperor himself.

Understanding her hidden meaning, Lionel answered casually, as if to dismiss her concern.

“It doesn’t matter. His Majesty has entrusted me with full authority over all territories I’ve annexed.”

The extent of Lionel’s authority was far greater than Isabel had imagined.

Of course, having the power and exercising it were two different things. Isabel couldn’t help but wonder what he was truly thinking.

“To donate Belphon, a border territory, to the Miness Church… it seems you intend to turn it into a buffer zone. Does that mean you plan to pursue peace from now on?”

Lionel answered flatly.

“No.”

“Then is this donation meant to draw the Church’s power to your side?”

“That’s not the main reason.”

Left with that riddle, Isabel sank into thought. Aside from securing the Church’s support to strengthen his claim to succession, she couldn’t think of another plausible motive.

Seeing her tilt her head in confusion, Lionel touched the corner of his lips.

“I didn’t think you’d ask that kind of question.”

Her confusion wasn’t because of ignorance—it was because Lionel’s decision was that unusual.

“That deed exists solely to grant you the land where your convent stands. Everything else is secondary.”

“…Pardon?”

“Read it to the end.”

Only then did Isabel look again at the document in her hands.

At the bottom, there was a special clause: it designated Isabel as the Church’s authorized representative over the donated region.

Startled, she looked up at Lionel, who said calmly,

“That’s why I told you to remain a nun.”

He elaborated further to make things clear.

“You’re still recognized as both a noble and a member of the clergy. But if you renounce your vows and remain only a Kalian noble, even transferring a small territory would become extremely complicated. Do you understand?”

Isabel nodded, but not because she was convinced. Her mind was filled with suspicion.

He acted as if he merely wanted to simplify the matter, but he was clearly employing a very intricate strategy.

If he had simply wanted to reward her, gold or honors would have sufficed. Transferring land through a donation—and to the Church, no less—was far too much.

No matter how she looked at it, it seemed like part of some grand scheme involving religion—and she was being placed right at its center.

So Isabel decided to take the situation at face value and respond pragmatically.

But Lionel’s next words shattered her defensive composure in an instant.

“Are you not pleased?”

“…What?”

“You followed me because you wanted to protect your convent, didn’t you? Now you can protect it yourself. Isn’t that something to be glad about?”

“Th–that’s… I’m grateful, of course!”

Isabel quickly replied, but she was deeply flustered.

Was it really just a reward?

There wasn’t a trace of deceit in Lionel’s eyes as he looked down at her.

Come to think of it, Lionel had always been like this—clear in his sense of reward and punishment, and committed to doing whatever was within his power.

Just as he had rewarded her with a better room when she performed well as a preacher, this time, he had simply decided to give her land as a benefactor.

A pang of guilt struck Isabel.

Whatever the result, her initial intention had only been to watch him die. She couldn’t possibly say that now, so she lowered her gaze back to the document.

When she remained silent for a while, Lionel asked,

“Is something wrong?”

Isabel raised her head again.

It wasn’t only guilt—many inner doubts also weighed on her.

Once, Lionel had asked whether an identity forced upon her could ever be genuine. Her decision to leave the convent had stemmed from how deeply that question had shaken her.

And now, for convenience’s sake, she was being asked to put that identity back on.

But this isn’t even something a nun should receive…

The deed was written as if the Empire were entrusting land to a devout cleric whose pastoral service had deeply moved them.

Yet what Isabel had actually done was shed blood.

Appearance and essence. Truth and falsehood.

Such profound questions were not ones that an eighteen-year-old novice could easily answer.

After much inner struggle, Isabel decided to speak honestly.

“Your Highness, I’ll be frank. I’m a woman gifted in killing. If I wish to remain on the path of a nun, I must lay down my sword… yet you, Your Highness, have told me to take it up.”

“I did.”

“I wish to live and die with a sword in hand. So I can no longer live as a nun—”

“Why not?”

Though it was a serious matter, Lionel asked lightly.

Just as Isabel opened her mouth to respond, he offered a simple, decisive answer.

“If you join a knightly order, that problem is solved, isn’t it?”

Her eyes widened.

She had heard something similar before, when they had fought off the attackers—but she’d dismissed it as impossible.

For a woman missing her little finger to become a knight of a holy order—it would be unprecedented in all of history.

She stammered,

“B-but the knightly orders aren’t places anyone can just join.”

“Are you anyone?”

Lionel remained utterly unfazed, just as he had when he’d placed a sword in her hands in this very office and told her to cut through her fear—just as he had commanded her in the audience chamber to raise her blade and fight.

The despair and self-loathing that had seeped so deeply into Isabel’s soul meant nothing to him.

“I’ll send a letter to the nearest knightly order. When they send someone, you’ll undergo an eligibility assessment.”

If she were recognized by the order, she could become both nun and knight—walking both paths at once.

Her heart pounded uncontrollably; she clasped her trembling hands together.

“It seems you finally like the idea.”

“A-ah… I’m honored, Your Highness. I was simply so surprised…”

“I’ll have both the donation certificate for the Church and the recommendation letter for the knightly order sent today.”

“Your Highness… I don’t know what to say…”

Lionel seemed to relish her bewilderment for a moment—but then, abruptly, his expression hardened.

“You do know what to do. You’ve proven you’re no bird to be kept in a cage. So stop wearing a maid’s uniform and bowing your head before others. Understood?”

The pleasant atmosphere froze in an instant.

Startled and overwhelmed by the excessive generosity, Isabel glared up at him almost rebelliously. Lionel looked down at her, kneeling there, with faint amusement.

Then she murmured in a low voice,

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s all. Go and rest.”

“…Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll take my leave.”

She rose, placed the document neatly on the table, bowed deeply, and left the office.

Lionel stared at the closed door for a moment, then pressed his temple.

Outside, Julia was waiting, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“What did you talk about with His Highness? Can you tell me?”

There had been quite the conversation. Isabel decided to share only the parts that were safe to mention.

But Julia, too impatient to wait, leaned in eagerly.

“I told you, didn’t I? If you pretended to be too sick to get up for two days, he might act a little more kindly! Did he?”

Isabel had completely forgotten Julia’s advice—to make the prince wait and worry instead of always obeying him. She’d been too distracted by receiving a land donation the moment she walked in.

Recalling the scene in the office, Isabel pictured Lionel’s expressionless face once more.

He hadn’t seemed gentle in the slightest. Kindness? Such a soft word didn’t suit him at all. He had simply rewarded her, as he always did, with cold, formal precision.

“He was exactly the same as usual.”

“That can’t be!”

Julia gasped and demanded,

“You rushed into the audience hall, drew your sword, fought to protect His Highness, collapsed, and fainted— and he said nothing about any of that?”

Isabel thought for a moment, then remembered what Lionel had said right at the beginning.

“He did say one thing about it. He asked if I might be a witch.”

“Wh–what?! A w-witch?”

“He apologized right after, said it was a slip of the tongue…”

“He’s mad! How could His Highness say such a thing to you?!”

Julia nearly jumped in outrage—and rightly so. Being accused of witchcraft by a prince could easily send a nun straight to the stake.

But Isabel felt nothing about it.

Those I killed probably thought I was a witch too.

Her life had long been twisted. Whether she died on the battlefield or burned at the stake didn’t really matter.

She only wished that day would come a little later.

To be the Church’s appointed landholder, and to be recommended to a knightly order… all of it is too much for someone like me.

Lionel had perfectly grasped what Isabel desired most—and had rewarded her for her deeds accordingly.

For her, though, those rewards were heavy. Yet she couldn’t let them go.

She didn’t want to lose a single one. Someday, she wanted to make them truly her own through effort and resolve.

Steeling her heart, Isabel asked,

“Julia, where is the castle armory?”

Julia blinked at the sudden question, then broke into a bright smile and stepped forward to lead the way.