Chapter 14
Following Ianpel’s guidance, the place Aquila’s group was led to was a room located deep within the temple.
A carpet as plush as the one spread throughout the Reschenhardt Estate covered the floor, and the furniture, unified in white, looked luxurious at a glance.
The carefully arranged space was so immaculate that not a speck of dust could be seen, yet traces of everyday living could be found here and there.
It was a clean and spacious room, not as extravagant as a noble’s chamber, but comfortable nonetheless.
After sweeping his gaze across even the conspicuous ornaments placed in one corner, Aquila stiffened.
‘Why is that here…? More importantly, this is Ianpel’s living space.’
In the previous cycle, he had visited this place several times.
There were fewer ornaments now and the furniture looked newer, but this was unmistakably the space where Ianpel resided.
As if on cue, Ianpel spoke.
“This is the room I am staying in. I apologize for bringing you here, but at present, there is no place quieter than this where we can speak freely.”
Ianpel smiled with a face that showed not the slightest trace of apology.
That alone was enough for Aquila to grasp Ianpel’s current situation.
‘It seems he has not fully established himself within the Grand Temple of Portplum yet.’
When Aquila had belonged to the Grand Temple of Portplum, Ianpel had already been put forward as a leading candidate for the next Pope.
No one could rival him in Divine Power, and he was famous enough that there was scarcely anyone who did not know his name.
At the age of twelve, he had entered the Path of Trials and succeeded in offering prayers to the Sun God for the longest duration on record—two full months.
The tale of how Ianpel, having not drunk even a single mouthful of water, emerged from the Path of Trials looking no different from the first day, with a radiant glow shining from his back, was well known even among commoners.
‘He has a thirst for power. His movements during this period are subtle, but he is probably working behind the scenes.’
At this point in time, Ianpel had neither officially assumed the position of saint nor been named a candidate for the next Pope.
Even so, his fame was already immense.
“Then, I will take my leave…”
Chelsea, having finished her role as guide, bowed deeply.
Aquila briefly glanced at her with his eyes alone.
‘She really was the priest who served at Ianpel’s side. That hair color cannot be all that rare, but still.’
Because he had paid little attention to her even when she was beside the saint, her face was vague in his memory.
Still, back then her hair had been extremely short. Now that he looked closely, her hairstyle was identical to Yujelia’s.
“Yes, Chelsea. If anything else comes up, let me know immediately.”
“Yes, Ianpel.”
However, Chelsea did not turn away right away and instead looked at Yujelia.
Judging by her expression, it seemed she wanted to say something, yet despite that gaze, Yujelia remained silent.
“Chelsea? Is there something more you wish to say?”
“…No. It is nothing. I will be going now.”
At Ianpel’s gentle question, Chelsea seemed to realize this was not the place to linger. She bowed once more and retraced her steps.
Aquila watched Chelsea’s retreating figure, then turned to Yujelia.
She could not take her eyes off Chelsea as she walked away.
Given that they both belonged to the Grand Temple of Portplum and appeared close in age, it was not strange that they knew each other, but the atmosphere between them felt oddly tense.
Shen also seemed bothered by it, rolling his eyes and glancing at Yujelia.
“Now then, shall we sit instead of standing around? Come this way.”
With that brief remark, Ianpel smoothed over the atmosphere and led them toward the table.
Though questions lingered, Aquila did not feel the need to pry into Yujelia’s personal affairs and followed without further thought.
“So, did you hear that the Right Hand of the Halo is beneath the grand temple from the priest over there?”
Before Aquila could even sit on the sofa, Ianpel asked lightly.
Caught off guard by being singled out, Yujelia shook her head with a flustered expression.
“No. I did not—”
“I was not asking you. I was asking the third bloodline of House Reschenhardt here. I would like to hear the answer directly, so please remain quiet for a moment.”
Ianpel continued to smile gently, but his words sounded all the more like a warning.
Yujelia’s lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but unable to find the words, she eventually closed her mouth.
‘Still the same old authoritarian.’
Even now, his personality was impressive in the worst possible sense.
Clicking his tongue inwardly, Aquila dropped onto the sofa.
“I believe I explained it briefly when we spoke through the crystal orb.”
“Yes. You said the dragon that protects Reschenhardt told you as much. No matter how many times I think about it, it is the most fascinating story.”
“It seems there is something about it that troubles you, separate from whether it is fascinating or not.”
“Oh. Was I wearing such an obvious expression?”
Ianpel replied glibly.
‘He really has not changed. Drawing things out because he wants to control the conversation.’
Beneath the hood he still had not removed, Aquila wore a flat expression.
“If you are harboring doubts, I can swear that what I said is true.”
He deliberately brought up an oath.
For all his faults, Ianpel possessed a devout faith and was the type who did not doubt the absolute weight of an oath.
If it were abused, that would be another matter, but he would let the first few instances slide.
“An oath… Proving one’s sincerity is fine, but there is no need to make it so grand.”
Just as Aquila had expected, the moment the word “oath” was mentioned, Ianpel’s expression softened slightly.
“I have no intention of doubting the greatest and most exalted dragon in Delvion’s history, of course. Faith is practically my reason for existence, after all.”
As he said that, he placed a hand over the brooch pinned to his left chest and offered a benevolent smile.
His face was so beautiful that anyone seeing him at this moment might have praised the saint without hesitation.
‘All smooth words.’
But Aquila had no intention of offering even a single compliment.
He knew Ianpel’s true nature.
Tilting his head slightly, Aquila continued in an indifferent tone.
“Yes. Then what is it that you are curious about?”
When Aquila showed no reaction beyond that answer, it was Ianpel who looked puzzled instead.
He tilted his head.
As though Aquila was the first person ever to respond to his face like that.
Yet it lasted only a moment. Soon, Ianpel smiled gently again and replied kindly.
“I was wondering if that priest might have heard something from Bishop Martio.”
“It was Yujelia. I am not sure why Bishop Martio is being mentioned here.”
“Hm? Did she not tell you? There are children that Bishop Martio personally brought in, and she is one of them.”
Ianpel turned his gaze toward Yujelia.
“She was raised under the bishop, was she not? Treating him like a father.”
A father?
At the unexpected words, Aquila immediately turned to Yujelia.
Her lips trembled as if she wanted to say something, but recalling Ianpel’s warning, she could not bring herself to speak.
‘So that is why she could not defy the bishop.’
Lowering her head deeply, Yujelia clenched the hem of her robe until it wrinkled.
Several emotions flashed across her face at once.
Among them, the clearest was disgust.
As though she loathed being tied to the bishop in that way.
Aquila noticed what emotion crossed her face, but pretended not to and continued.
“What does that have to do with my story?”
“One tends to share special things with family, after all. Or am I mistaken?”
Ianpel sounded as if he were deliberately probing.
Even though Yujelia’s face was clearly visible across from him.
For all his devout appearance, it seemed Ianpel truly disliked Martio.
Otherwise, he would not be checking so directly whether there was a connection.
‘The reason I never heard Martio’s name when I belonged to the Grand Temple of Portplum. Perhaps Ianpel personally dealt with him.’
“He did not strike me as particularly family-oriented.”
“Even so, he is quite devoted to those he considers his own.”
“Ah. So Bishop Martio’s mouth is a bit on the cheap side?”
At the sudden remark, Ianpel paused for a moment, then forced his twitching lips back into a smile.
“…He does have a talent for startling others from time to time. I myself am often taken by surprise.”
“Yes, well. From what I saw earlier, he seems like the sort of man who should wear trousers on his face.”
The moment Martio was mentioned, Yujelia’s expression darkened, and she bit her lip hard. Shen, who had been quietly holding his place, looked aghast.
Aquila leaned back leisurely against the backrest.
“The great dragon said that a holy relic in the shape of a chalice could help me. I told that to Yujelia, and all she did was mention the Right Hand of the Halo.”
“Among the holy relics bestowed by Raspalara, those in the form of a chalice are indeed most famously associated with the Right Hand of the Halo. Still, is there a reason you chose Portplum out of all the grand temples?”
“I simply thought it was Portplum because he said it was nearby. It is the only grand temple close to Igrail.”
“And if it had not been here, what would you have done then?”
At that, Aquila replied bluntly, clearly tired of it.
“Ah. Let us not deal in hypotheticals. I was certain it was here when the reaction on the other side of the crystal orb grew restless.”
Repeating words he had heard before, Aquila made Ianpel laugh aloud, something rare.
Seeing him laugh so pleased only made Aquila feel irritated.
“Let us stop with the pointless probing and get to the point.”
Having no desire to indulge him any further, Aquila continued immediately.
“Since Bishop Martio came up, tell me this. Did you hear that I coughed up blood a few days ago and returned to Igrail?”
“Yes. I heard that Bishop Martio went there with the priest stationed there for treatment.”
“And you were told what my diagnosis was when he returned?”
“I wondered why someone so reluctant to move would go out of his way to do so… No. He only said that, from what he saw, your condition had improved. I heard nothing else.”
As he spoke, Ianpel turned his gaze to Yujelia.
“He said that since he had left behind a priest he trusted when he departed, all responsibility would fall on her. That from that point onward, it was no longer his jurisdiction.”
Aquila clicked his tongue lightly.
Martio had said something similar before leaving the Reschenhardt Estate, and it seemed he had reported the same to the temple.
‘Even if the Curse of Deadly Poison cannot be lifted, the death of a noble is still involved. Someone has to take responsibility.’
In any case, Martio had intended from the start to wash his hands of the matter and dump everything onto Yujelia.
It was a transparently obvious ploy.
“I thought it was an obvious lie, but seeing you like this, perhaps it was not entirely false.”
Ianpel seemed to have thought similarly, but seeing Aquila speaking so clearly appeared to have changed his mind.
“It was a lie. I have merely improved for now.”
“Ah. So you require a holy relic to fully recover your body? If that is the case—”
“No. That is enough of that. I am getting tired of this farcical little play.”
Aquila felt irritation begin to rise.
Facing an unpleasant man, watching transparent schemes, and seeing innocent people suffer for it.
All of it felt absurd.
With that irritation, Aquila reached up and pulled off the hood he had been wearing low.
The vivid red hair called the blessing of House Reschenhardt shone brilliantly.
With a healthy complexion unburdened by illness, Aquila’s sharp black eyes fixed squarely on Ianpel.
“Let us stop circling each other and just make a deal. I will tell you something good, and in return, Saint, you clear some people out of the way.”