LVVL 33

Chapter 33

“Damn it. Why would the Church appoint someone like that…?”

Far ahead, the dense forest stretched endlessly.

Before that forest, a trade route overlooked a wide, golden wheat field.

The knights of the Winterrose family, having returned from their long journey to the Archducal house, stopped at the firmly closed castle gates—perhaps wary of the wolves that had emerged from the forest.

As they waited for the gates to open, they glared back without hiding their displeasure.

“The Church isn’t perfect either. Even the words of the Goddess can mean entirely different things depending on how they’re interpreted.”

“Shh! What if someone hears you?”

“Damn it. Let them hear! It’s because of this that the lady and our Count’s family suffered such humiliation. A few insults are nothing!”

Recalling the threat Eric had made, leveraging his status as the Church’s hero, the knight ground his teeth in anger.

His statement had implied that if they didn’t obey his orders, the Winterrose family would be deemed heretical.

The orders themselves weren’t particularly difficult, but to arbitrarily brand the family they had loyally served all their lives as heretics was tantamount to trampling the knights’ pride.

“A legitimate hero of the Church… huh.”

While the knights voiced their complaints one by one, Ophelia quietly gazed out the window, recalling the conversation she had shared with Eric after sending them off.

“I’m not sure if he’s truly a rogue, but he’s definitely not as incompetent as the rumors said.”

She had expected as much ever since he had accompanied them to receive the family’s guests.

The man known as Eric Ather was far from incompetent.

“Leona… and Lilian, was it?”

Among the three people Eric had brought, those two alone were enough to gauge his abilities.

They were both roughly her age, yet even as women, they vastly surpassed the family’s knights in skill.

One of them was a mage capable of unleashing devastating magic, having burned dozens of wolves to nothing in a single strike, though Ophelia had seen it only once.

The fact that these two were following Eric not just because of orders from the Archduke, but out of genuine loyalty and indignation at how he was treated, clearly marked him as someone extraordinary.

“And…”

Shaking off her stray thoughts, Ophelia shifted her gaze to the end of the line of carriages, where a white-haired priest was speaking with Eric while looking toward the Moonlit Forest.

There had been much gossip about how the rogue of the North had suddenly been proclaimed a hero of the Church.

Some said the Archduke had bribed the Church for his inept heir; others speculated that someone high up in the Church had been compromised.

These were stories that could seem credible to outsiders, but the suspicion persisted everywhere. It was simply unbelievable that such a rogue could become a hero of the Church.

“If that’s the case, it seems they didn’t give him the hero’s title for no reason.”

When Eric had said he would exercise the authority of a Church hero, Malefica had been slightly taken aback, but she hadn’t stopped him.

Although he was technically dispatched by the Archducal house, he was still a legitimate priest of the Church.

Had he obtained the hero’s title illegitimately despite being unqualified, she wouldn’t have let it pass so calmly.

“I should have sought help from the Marquess’s house instead of the Archducal one…”

“Enough.”

A little later, having finished her calculations, Ophelia spoke quietly as she noticed the knights outside raising their voices.

“No matter what you say, is this the behavior you show toward the person who came to help us? Instead of gratitude, you act so disgracefully.”

“H-But, Lady, that rogue—he insulted our family…”

“Prince, yes. Lord Berle, right?”

Berle, a young knight of the Winterrose family, froze mid-argument at Ophelia’s words, looking both confused and guilty.

“During our journey from the Archducal house, did you ever commit any real offense, Prince? And your companions seemed to have performed well in the previous battle.”

“W-well… yes, but…”

Ophelia’s words were justified.

During the journey, Eric had done nothing wrong. Yet he had also shown nothing.

Battles with monsters, preparing the camp, and even guiding the carriage—all of it had been handled by his knight and mage companions.

Naturally, such circumstances led to eyes that were far from favorable toward him.

Of course, that was not a virtue that a noble heir was obliged to possess, but this was not the peaceful central or southern lands—it was the North, the land of warriors.

“Rumors are just rumors. Don’t judge someone based on hearsay. One must see with their own eyes, whether a thing or a person, as my father always said.”

“That is…”

“…I apologize, Lady.”

Seeing the knights bow deeply with apologetic faces, Ophelia exhaled a heavy sigh.

She understood why they were so prickly toward the guests who had come all the way to help.

Though they had ostensibly come to retrieve the Count’s heirlooms, with the Count suddenly deceased without naming a successor, the task was essentially deciding the next Count of Winterrose.

The only person who had stepped forward to help was the infamous rogue of the North. As knights of the family and as those who served her, their concern was natural.

“If I cannot retrieve the heirlooms, then Alberto… that fool would succeed my father.”

But that was only if she could afford to shield them.

Ophelia clenched her fists, thinking of her half-brother.

Though illegitimate, he was the only male heir of the Winterrose family. By legitimacy and accomplishments, he clearly ranked above her, yet many elders supported him simply for being male.

“No matter what, I must prevent that. For me, for those who have trusted and followed me, and…”

Alberto was a man who prioritized his own desires over the family’s welfare.

If he ascended as head, the family’s future would be in clear jeopardy.

To stop him, she was prepared to ally with anyone—

Even if it meant siding with a demon… or…

“For the future of the Winterrose family.”

Even if it meant siding with a notorious rogue.

“Greetings. I am Alberto Winterrose.”

As soon as they arrived at the Winterrose estate, the young man who had come to meet them at the front gate greeted the party politely.

Ophelia’s half-brother, Alberto Winterrose.

“You must have rushed and skipped proper meals. If you’re fine, let’s quickly unload your luggage and head to the dining hall. I already told the chef to prepare a meal as soon as I heard you were here, so you can eat immediately.”

“Alberto…”

Ophelia clicked her tongue inwardly, her already complicated feelings made heavier.

She had invited the guests, yet he was acting as if they were his guests, rushing to serve them first.

“This isn’t good. Could it really go like this…?”

Given his nature, she had expected him to show open hostility or to cite family matters to drive her guests away. At the very least, she expected him to give off a stiff, unpleasant vibe—but his gentle demeanor was far from what she anticipated, furrowing her brow.

“…Is this his doing again?”

Noticing something, she shifted her gaze past Alberto’s shoulder.

A woman adorned with various mystical accessories, her purple robe concealing her face, always a few steps behind Alberto like a shadow, eyes closed as ever.

She was a wandering, unnamed astrologer who Alberto had suddenly brought into his service months ago, and her presence had disrupted everything.

Before her arrival, Alberto had been an ineffectual figure, backed only by the elders because of his gender. But since she appeared, he had gradually built accomplishments as if he were a different person. This had led to the current troublesome situation following their father’s sudden passing.

Sliding her gaze away, Ophelia looked subtly toward Eric’s group.

Seeing Eric hesitate to respond to Alberto’s invitation, she nervously fidgeted with her fingers.

Was it because of the overt hostility her knights had displayed on the way from the Archducal house? Or was it because she had passively observed to test them, which he found disagreeable?

Her hope that he would refuse the invitation collided with anxiety that he might harbor ill feelings toward her.

“Very well. I was just getting hungry, so this works out.”

Contrary to Ophelia’s hope, Eric smiled and accepted Alberto’s invitation.

She couldn’t help but bite her lip in frustration.

“W-what!”

“Prince! This is hardly proper! Our guests were brought by Lady Ophelia, so naturally, she should be the one to serve…”

The knights, watching silently, tried to protest, but Alberto’s icy glare silenced them.

There was nothing more they could argue. With the behavior they had displayed on the way here, what right did they have to complain now?

“I apologize for the commotion. I hope we did not inconvenience our guests like earlier.”

Once again, Alberto’s warm smile addressed Eric, much to Ophelia’s dismay.

“Honestly, there were a few minor offenses, but it’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, right?”

Eric responded lightly, his words blunt yet polite, eliciting uneasy murmurs from those present.

“Thank you for your understanding. May I ask your name?”

Alberto finally asked Eric’s name cautiously, as if only just recalling it.

“Ather.”

Short, simple.

Then, Eric added:

“Eric Ather.”

It was no surprise—after all, he was the infamous rogue from the North. No point in pretending to please such a trivial man.

“Tch. Ophelia, I thought she had brought some impressive guest from outside the family, but all she managed was that rogue from the Ather house. What a waste of effort.”

After the meal, Alberto returned to his room, unbuttoning his collar and grumbling.

“They didn’t even bring soldiers, just a couple of women. Do I really have to go this far?”

Following the Count’s death, Ophelia had personally gone to invite the guests due to a lack of elder support.

On the astrologer’s advice, she had played along, flattering the so-called incompetent Eric to ensure he didn’t meddle in the family matters.

“If Lady Ophelia fails to retrieve the heirlooms, with Alberto’s succession seemingly guaranteed, it’s best there be no variables. Also, even if currently useless, he is of Archducal blood. Planting a good impression now will help when he ascends as Count, securing favor with the Archducal house.”

The astrologer soothed Alberto gently.

Eric Ather—the moment Ophelia introduced him—wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

Reports had noted no soldiers, only a single carriage. It seemed odd from the start.

And yet, the much-touted incompetent of the Ather house had been brought.

“He may be Archducal blood, but incompetent. With only three companions, he shouldn’t obstruct future plans. But…”

Everything went smoothly, yet one thing lingered.

Throughout the meal, Eric’s gaze had been firmly on her, not Alberto. And the priest’s eyes subtly observed as well.

Though the meal concluded without incident, an uneasy feeling remained.

“Archducal blood, huh… I heard the Archduke favors that rogue. Even made him a hero of the Church. Ridiculous.”

Unlike the astrologer’s complicated expression, Alberto laughed, recalling Eric’s group at the dining hall.

The small mage devouring food with tears in her eyes, the woman knight in armor, and the priest, who alone seemed capable—but what could a single priest do in a forest crawling with monsters?

“Anyway, we got the confirmation they won’t meddle in our family matters, so that’s settled. Then, as promised…”

“Yes, don’t worry.”

The astrologer nodded gently, smiling.

“I will make sure Alberto becomes Count.”

Although some details differed from her expectations, it was not a major issue.

Even if that rogue helped Ophelia enter the forest—

“Certainly.”

The anomaly in the Moonlit Forest was beyond the capability of just four people.