Chapter 13
“So you have returned.”
Martio stepped forward as if to block their path and spoke.
The face of a man who looked to be in his late forties bore a mild and affable impression, yet the smile on his lips felt strangely awkward.
The robe enveloping his body was pure white, and together with the brooch pinned to his chest, numerous ornate decorations adorned it, clear symbols of his high rank.
Because of that, the bishop appeared rather far removed from the image of a clean and incorruptible priest.
“It has been a long time, Bishop Martio.”
Yujelia grasped the hem of her robe, spread it slightly to the side, and bowed her head.
Her voice sounded firm as usual, yet the end of it trembled faintly.
“I knew it was you from the moment I heard there had been contact from Igrail. I thought you were better suited for the task than I was, which is why I left you there, and yet…”
Martio’s gaze shifted from Yujelia to Aquila.
Aquila had his hood pulled deeply over his head, his face hidden from view.
The bishop’s grayish eyes narrowed as they slowly changed into a probing gaze that examined him.
Shen furrowed his brow and was about to step forward, but Aquila grabbed his wrist and stopped him.
He intended to see how this would play out.
“I never imagined you would come together. Then again, you were never one to give up until the very end.”
Martio continued, rubbing his chin.
Several rings adorned his fingers, each set with brightly colored gemstones. Despite being inside a temple, the rings were all large and smooth, as if flaunting his wealth without restraint.
‘The type who openly shows off his riches. Someone whose position within the temple is so secure that no one dares criticize him even when he behaves like this.’
Aquila’s gaze lingered over Martio in much the same way.
Each time the plump, fleshy chin brushed against his fingers, it looked all the more greedy.
“Was it you who said that one could communicate using the temple’s crystal orb? Even so—”
“No. I never said that. Aquila was the one who proposed making contact.”
Yujelia, who had been bowing her head, answered immediately.
Martio, cut off mid-sentence, briefly showed an expression of displeasure, but quickly composed himself, as if conscious of the presence of others.
“Oh? It seems you are quite knowledgeable about the temple.”
Only then did Martio turn his attention to Aquila, as if just now recognizing him.
The attitude was so blatant that Shen bristled once again, but seeing that Aquila showed no reaction, he forced himself to hold back.
Martio’s lips curved upward.
“In any case, we meet again, Aquila Reschenhardt. You were unconscious at the time, so this must be our first proper meeting.”
Though Martio offered a belated greeting, there was no warmth in his eyes.
Even with a Reschenhardt standing right before him, he did not appear to be paying Aquila any mind.
Rather, it seemed as though Aquila had not even been considered worth acknowledging.
‘It looks like he sees no reason to show courtesy to someone he thinks is about to die.’
The position of a bishop rivaled that of most nobles.
That did not mean rudeness was permissible, but this was the interior of a temple dedicated to the Sun God Raspalara.
Those who set foot inside the temple were regarded as children of Raspalara, and flaunting one’s status as one might outside was tacitly forbidden.
The temple was a place that praised the Sun God alone, founded upon devout faith.
Even so, Shen’s patience was wearing dangerously thin.
Aquila did not ponder his reply for long and simply spoke a single line.
“Yes. It is a pleasure.”
Then, as if utterly uninterested, he withdrew his gaze from Martio and turned instead to the priest who had been guiding them.
Just as Martio showed no interest in him, Aquila had no interest in Martio.
‘Ianpel always pretends to be patient on the surface. It is probably the same even now. If he gets offended and retreats to his room, we will be the ones at a disadvantage.’
From the moment he left for Portplum, Aquila’s attention had been fixed entirely on the fickle saint, Ianpel.
He tilted his head slightly, as if asking why they were not being led onward already, causing the priest to look flustered instead.
“…It will be of no use.”
For a brief moment, Martio looked stunned, then, realizing he had been ignored, his face flushed red and blue as he raised his voice sharply.
“I do not know how you learned about ‘that,’ but it is nothing more than an ordinary chalice.”
It seemed Martio was also aware of what Aquila had mentioned through the crystal orb.
Perhaps everyone of considerable rank within the Grand Temple of Portplum knew.
After all, few people even knew that the Right Hand of the Halo existed in the temple’s underground chamber.
“Is that so?”
“…No matter what sort of persuasion this Yujelia may have tried, it would be wiser for you to give up.”
When Aquila replied indifferently without even looking at him, Martio immediately continued.
“Did she not breathe hope into you with words like, ‘This time, you can live. I will help you no matter what’?”
Watching their exchange with mounting anxiety, Yujelia flinched.
Mid-sentence, the bishop shook his head.
“That caused quite an uproar, you know. Starting with complaints like, ‘You said it was possible, so why can you not do it?’ and even leading people to resent Raspalara. Cleaning up after all that was quite the trouble…”
“I do not understand what you are trying to say.”
Aquila cut Martio off and finally turned his gaze toward him.
Martio briefly grinned, seemingly pleased by the mere fact that Aquila, who had been utterly indifferent, was now paying him attention.
Then, realizing he had shown too much delight, he twisted his face into an unpleasant expression and quickly smoothed it over, even clearing his throat in a flurry of awkward motions.
Now, adopting a tone of feigned regret, Martio murmured,
“I only wished to say that such hope can sometimes become poison. Of course, it is unfortunate, but…”
At those words, Shen and Yujelia’s faces froze instantly.
The same went for the priest who had been guiding them.
‘He knows it is the Curse of Deadly Poison, yet there is nothing he will not say right in front of the person afflicted.’
That statement was no different from saying that Aquila would die anyway, so he should stop resisting, stop coming to places like this, and die quietly.
This pot-bellied bishop seemed to be the type who, even if the words he harbored were knives, felt compelled to speak them aloud whenever he was displeased.
Shen stepped forward, as if he could endure no more.
“That is truly rude—!”
“How foolish must you be to sit in that position.”
Before Shen could finish even a single sentence, Aquila struck first.
“I thought that if one could at least distinguish between bodily functions, one would also possess the decency to choose one’s words, but seeing you, Bishop, perhaps that is not the case.”
Aquila tilted his head, as if he genuinely could not understand.
“If you cannot choose your words, you should simply keep your mouth shut. This is a temple, not a latrine.”
“W-What…!”
“Raspalara watches over us sufficiently. To speak so crudely even here… just imagining how He must feel is truly deplorable.”
Since the bishop was behaving like that, Aquila decided he would hold nothing back either.
The atmosphere froze once more, though in a different sense than before.
The bishop trembled, momentarily blank, as he processed whether the insult he had just heard was truly directed at him.
When Aquila let out a pointed, short sigh, Martio’s face flushed bright red.
“How dare you! To invoke Raspalara’s name in such a manner—!”
As Martio roared in fury, another voice suddenly cut between them.
“Oh my, you are all still here?”
A gentle, mild voice completely out of place amid the commotion.
Unhurried footsteps.
A man who had somehow already drawn close looked at the group confronting one another in the corridor.
“Ianpel.”
The priest guiding them immediately bowed her head.
The man with clean, water-colored hair, the saint Ianpel, smiled and asked calmly,
“I was wondering what had happened since you did not arrive no matter how long I waited. What is all this commotion?”
The mysterious pale lavender eyes curved into a smile, yet there was something subtly oppressive and cold within them, rather than pure gentleness.
‘He must have lost patience with the wait and come out himself.’
Aquila took in the man he was seeing again after a very long time.
When he had seen him in the previous cycle, his hair had flowed down to his waist, but now it was neatly cut to just beside his jaw.
‘Twenty. Or perhaps twenty-one.’
This was the first time Aquila had seen Ianpel with short hair, and perhaps because of that, he looked even younger.
Of course, across all the cycles, this was indeed the youngest he had ever been.
“I apologize. The conversation grew unexpectedly long…”
“Ah. I am not reproaching you, Chelsea.”
Ianpel withdrew his gaze from the priest called Chelsea and looked straight at Martio.
The bishop, who had been shouting moments ago, instantly changed his expression and bowed his head.
“Is there some important business with the guests I summoned, Bishop Martio?”
“Oh, no. After leaving Yujelia at the Reschenhardt Estate, I had been quite worried. Seeing her again here after so long, I suppose I became a bit carried away.”
Martio let out an awkward chuckle, as if none of his earlier demeanor had existed.
He was clearly gauging Ianpel’s reaction.
Shen twitched, looking utterly dumbfounded.
‘It seems his temperament was poor even back then.’
Even when Aquila had belonged to the Grand Temple of Portplum in a previous cycle, high-ranking priests had grovelled before Ianpel.
‘In front of someone even more unhinged, it is wiser to back down if you want a peaceful future.’
From beneath his hood, Aquila’s eyes traced over Ianpel’s face.
Ianpel immediately noticed and shot a sharp gaze at Aquila, as though trying to pierce straight through him.
A chilling sensation ran up Aquila’s spine.
But only for a moment. Soon, Ianpel turned his head away, wearing a gentle smile as if nothing had happened.
‘…What an unpleasant man.’
Aquila frowned beneath his hood, feeling relieved that his expression could not be seen.
“Then may I take them with me now? I dislike waiting.”
“Oh, my apologies. It seems our reminiscing went on too long. Of course.”
Martio smiled, but his lips trembled faintly, making it obvious the smile was forced.
He showed courtesy only to Ianpel, then immediately cast a displeased glance at Yujelia.
“Yujelia. When your conversation is finished, come to my room at once.”
“Pardon? Well, I—”
Before the flustered Yujelia could answer properly, Aquila cut in.
“Ah. Regarding that matter, Yujelia has decided to accompany us.”
“…W-What? What nonsense! I never gave permission for such a thing!”
“I was told that as long as the priest herself agrees, she may accompany us. Is the bishop’s permission required as well?”
Martio raised his voice immediately, but Aquila ignored him and directed the question not at the bishop, but at Ianpel.
The saint blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, then shook his head.
“No. You are correct. Priest Yujelia, have you agreed to accompany them?”
Caught off guard, Yujelia looked back and forth between Shen and Aquila in confusion.
Shen nodded, and Aquila merely looked at her silently.
Seeing them, Yujelia’s hesitation did not last long.
“Yes. As a priest of the Sun, I have promised to accompany Aquila.”
“Yujelia!”
“Then that settles it. Shall we stop delaying and go?”
Despite Martio’s voice, filled with a sense of betrayal, Ianpel calmly brought the matter to a close.
Since time had already been delayed, his patience was likely at its limit.
The moment Aquila nodded, Ianpel turned and walked off without hesitation, brushing past the bishop.
He did not offer a single word of greeting.
Aquila and Shen did not even glance his way, and only Chelsea and Yujelia briefly bowed before likewise passing Martio by.
“You insolent—!”
Martio shouted, but no one turned back.
Left behind, he stood there for quite some time, seething alone as he vented his nowhere-bound rage.