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chapter 19
Of course, the Tower Master and the Crown Prince weren’t the type to politely mind their own business. In this swirling chaos and tension, the only person bold—or rather, shameless—enough to jump into someone else’s conversation while pretending to be innocent was Angela Reagan, that queen of brazen-faced theatrics.
“Yurian, it’s been a while. But dear, your face looks terrible. You’ve changed so much I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Really? A little more change and I wouldn’t have recognized you. Shame.”
“Oh my, that sharp tongue is still the same? Hearing it again is almost nostalgic.”
Yurian was dumbstruck as Angela tried to “break up the fight” while simultaneously grabbing Yurian by the collar in the sweetest, gentlest voice possible. Her tone was sugar, but her eyes were completely unhinged.
‘I don’t like you either, idiot.’
Yurian had no idea why Angela was full of hostility. She’s the one who kicked Yurian in the rear and got her exiled from her homeland. Yet somehow, she acted like the wronged one.
Yurian sighed deeply and held her throbbing forehead.
“At least one thing is certain—there is definitely a criminal among us.”
‘Ah, right. Can’t forget you.’
As the two bickered and growled, His Highness Theorn stood with his back against the farthest wall of the reception room—as if the very idea of sharing space with Yurian was intolerable.
Not that Yurian cared. His legs hurt, not hers. Even when she glared daggers at him with all her being, Theorn looked unaffected—if anything, he seemed even more irritated.
“It’s been three years, yet your vicious expression hasn’t changed at all. No wonder you showed up as a sinner of the Oracle.”
“Ha.”
Surprisingly, it was the Tower Master who let out a laugh at that. Lucas smiled mockingly—clearly intending Theorn to hear it—and Theorn, as expected, rose to the bait.
“What’s funny, Tower Master? And why did you even arrive with that woman? If you have a mouth, use it.”
“I have no reason to explain myself to you. Besides, isn’t it amusing that you, who were also dragged here as a sinner of the Oracle, are nitpicking about it?”
What’s wrong with those two?
Yurian remembered how Lucas and Theorn had quietly cooperated during her exile incident three years ago. Not exactly a true alliance—both of them had terrible personalities—but still, openly fighting in front of everyone, especially Angela of all people, was unexpected.
Come to think of it, even after running into Angela here, the Tower Master hadn’t greeted her or asked how she’d been.
What, did some internal feud break out over the past three years?
Yurian was seriously considering whether she should go get popcorn when the tightly closed reception room door finally swung open.
In walked a man with a huge X-shaped scar on his forehead.
“Welcome, everyone. My apologies for being late.”
The man strode in with overwhelming presence—mountainous stature, a shirt whose second button looked ready to burst.
He was taller than Sol by a full handspan—meaning a handspan and then another above Yurian. His muscular build strained visibly against his white shirt, each breath outlining the shape of hard muscle. If someone said he was the paladin instead of Grey, no one would question it.
…A priest?
Despite the unkempt long hair covering his eyes, the scruffy unshaven beard, and the utterly uncultured choice of slippers showing bare feet, a golden badge bearing the Temple’s crest shone on his chest.
Unless he’d murdered a priest and stolen the badge, this eccentric man was not a paladin—he was a priest.
The assembled “sinners” stared in stunned silence. He looked nothing like any priest they had ever seen.
“Everyone, please show respect. This is the High Priest presiding over this matter.”
At that sentence, the group collectively gaped. Especially Theorn—who had been demanding to see the High Priest immediately—blurted out rudely:
“—High Priest? This man, really?”
“It’s true! This is indeed the High Priest!”
“He’s only been a priest for a few years, but the divine favor he receives is unprecedented. Someone this young accumulating such divine power is almost unheard of in our history.”
As if used to this reaction, the attending priests hurried to drape the sacred vestments bearing the Temple’s emblem over the man’s shoulders and place the ceremonial crown on his head. Admirable effort—but the man still looked far more like a god of destruction than one of compassion.
The High Priest rolled up the long sleeves of his vestments to the elbow in discomfort and plopped into an empty seat.
Unfortunately, the empty seat was the one to Yurian’s left, and their knees brushed slightly. Sol scowled immediately.
“So the Temple has no manners to match its lack of decorum.”
“Sol! Don’t say—”
“Why not? For once he’s right. Hey—what’s your game here? You used force to drag the Tower Master. You’re prepared to face the consequences, I hope?”
Before Yurian could scold Sol, Lucas—who never knew when to shut up—jumped in to support him.
Not out of camaraderie from being tied up together in the carriage—they were nowhere near that—but because complaints were more effective in greater numbers.
Fortunately, the High Priest didn’t get defensive about “manners.” Instead, one word caught his attention.
“—‘Dragged,’ you say?”
Hearing Lucas’s phrasing, the High Priest asked for details.
Lucas happily spilled everything—every indignity, every mistreatment they’d suffered from the Knights’ League all the way to the Temple. He left out nothing—no, he dutifully notified the High Priest of every offense.
After listening quietly to the end, the High Priest’s previously gentle expression hardened.
“My apologies. It seems the paladins misinterpreted the mission I gave them. The Temple intended only to escort those involved in the Oracle—not force them or use violence. I will investigate this thoroughly and see that those responsible are disciplined.”
Lucas was unconvinced. Saying they’d “review the matter” was vague, and knowing paladins’ loyalty, it was unlikely Grey would face consequences.
“That’s your answer—”
“Enough, Tower Master. That’s not what’s important right now.”
But the humiliation Yurian–Sol–Lucas suffered wasn’t exactly a priority to Theorn’s group.
Unlike the stubborn ones, Theorn had allowed himself to be persuaded and had come voluntarily. Different positions, different priorities.
He, the next emperor of Latem, his right-hand man Viscount Vaf, and his fiancée being called sinners of the Oracle—this needed resolution immediately.
“Let’s discuss this damned ‘sin.’ High Priest, the Oracle called us sinners. What sin have we committed, exactly? And what does the deity want from us?”
“The Oracle means exactly what it says. That is all. I do not know more.”
“That’s irresponsible!”
Theorn snapped. He was the first to receive the Oracle, the one who summoned the sinners here. Shouldn’t he at least have a plan?
But the High Priest merely rolled his eyes lazily and answered:
“Realize your sin, and repent sincerely. We gathered you here to help with that.”
Who doesn’t know that?
Everyone present found the answer frustrating.
He was the High Priest—holder of the greatest divine power of the age, the one loved by the deity. If he couldn’t resolve this, who could?
