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Translator: CinderTL
The carriage rolled slowly down the silent streets.
Roland gazed out the window at the receding silhouette of the royal palace, his brow furrowing unconsciously.
Everything at the banquet had seemed perfectly natural on the surface, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss...
It was all too convenient.
Sean's timely appearance, Lucius's unusually violent reaction, and Duke Arno's perfectly timed entrance and masterful control of the situation...
The entire sequence unfolded like a meticulously rehearsed drama.
Though Lucius appeared frail and his eyes were clouded with age, Roland refused to believe that a man like King Monen would entrust the affairs of state to a genuine incompetent while leading his armies into battle.
Therefore, the prince's earlier outburst of near-hysterical rage now seemed jarringly contrived upon calm reflection.
As for Arno...
Remembering the duke's inscrutable demeanor, Roland's fingers unconsciously tapped against the hilt of his sword.
The duke's display of unwavering loyalty to the crown and impassioned patriotism had been flawless. Anyone witnessing it would likely have praised his steadfastness and composure.
But to Roland, who had long harbored suspicions about the duke, this overly perfect and timely performance seemed unnatural.
And...
Lost in thought, he was suddenly interrupted by a clear, melodious voice from beside him.
"What a splendid farce..."
Turning toward the voice, he saw the bard Galvis waving his quill, rapidly recording everything that had transpired at the banquet on a blank sheet of paper.
Several quick sketches interspersed among the text captured the guests' ever-shifting expressions and gestures with remarkable accuracy.
"Galvis... you sense something's off too?"
"Of course."
The bard paused, examining the newly completed scroll with satisfaction, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"Even setting aside everything else, the timing and manner of Captain Sean's intrusion into the banquet are highly suspicious..."
"Logically speaking, if the palace guards truly heard urgent military news, why wouldn't they announce it first before allowing a fully armed officer to barge straight into the banquet's core zone?"
Indeed.
Roland nodded slightly.
This was precisely one of the reasons he found the entire affair deeply suspicious.
Roland knew Sean well. Though usually straightforward and honest, Sean was no fool. He understood the gravity of situations and observed proper etiquette.
For Sean to barge into the palace in such a reckless manner, he must have either received prior tacit approval or guidance, or...
Otherwise, he had no other way to reach the reclusive prince.
Roland sighed almost imperceptibly.
"Regardless, with Duke Arno vouching for him, Sean's life should be safe. As for this study tour... we should stick to the original plan, complete the formalities quickly, and leave this troubled place as soon as possible."
Having made up his mind, Roland lowered the window curtain and turned to his companions on the other side of the carriage.
Theresa leaned against the wall, her silvery eyes gazing into the void, her expression distant, as if her thoughts were wandering far away.
"Theresa?"
The silver-haired woman looked up, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.
"What is it, Roland?"
"I should be asking you that. You've been distracted since earlier. Is something wrong?"
Roland pushed Galvis, who had inexplicably picked up his harp and was settling in the middle of the carriage to play an impromptu tune, aside. He sat beside Theresa and lowered his voice.
"Oh... it's nothing, just..."
Theresa hesitated, unconsciously twirling a strand of hair around her finger before finally speaking in a low voice.
"That woman named Gloria... I think I've seen her before, but back then..."
As if recalling an unpleasant memory, her delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly, and a flicker of clear aversion flashed in her eyes.
"She's not a princess... she's the saintess of the Blazing Sun Church."
"Saintess?"
Roland paused, then immediately recalled the subtle yet distant attitude the Golden Valley nobles had displayed toward the "princess" at the banquet. Understanding dawned in his mind.
Even if Gloria were the least favored member of the royal family, as a member of the Monen bloodline, she shouldn't have been subjected to such blatant collective coldness.
But if, beyond her "princess" title, she carried another, more sensitive prefixâone that directly contradicted the King's will...
Everyone knew that King Monen harbored a deep-seated aversion toward the rapidly expanding churches in recent years, having personally launched several brutal purges against them.
Now, less than one in ten churches that once operated openly within the Golden Valley Kingdom remained.
Faced with the King's stark and ruthless stance, the nobles, ever seeking to maximize their advantages and avoid harm, naturally shunned anything related to the Church like the plague.
Given this...
As a member of the Royal Family, why had Gloria become the saintess of the Blazing Sun Church?
What hidden truths lay behind this?
"Never mind," Roland muttered, shaking his head and temporarily setting aside this perplexing question.
He pressed Theresa for more details, but she had no further information, so he gave up.
A brief silence fell over the carriage, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of wheels rolling over cobblestones.
Soon, the carriage slowed and pulled into the courtyard of their lodging.
The night passed without incident.
The following morning, Roland and his party were escorted by royal attendants to the Knight Academy of the Golden Valley Kingdom.
Unlike the academies of the River Domain Nations, which emphasized practicality and resembled elite military fortresses, the Knight Academy of the Golden Valley Kingdom fully embodied the grandeur and heritage of an ancient kingdom.
Located west of the royal capital, it was less an academy and more a city within a city.
Towering gray-white stone walls encircled the grounds, and the massive main gate was adorned with bas-reliefs of legendary heroes. The interior buildings were vast and meticulously laid out.
The training ground was vast enough to accommodate an entire cavalry regiment's maneuvers, the air thick with an aura of solemnity born from ancient tradition and absolute powerâa far cry from the River Domain Nations' more compact and pragmatic academies.
Led by a stern-faced academy instructor, they crossed the expansive martial arts arena toward the designated exchange area.
A team of Golden Valley Kingdom students was already waiting at the edge of the field.
Dressed in impeccably tailored uniforms adorned with golden sheaf emblems, they stood tall and proud, their eyes carrying the inherent arrogance and scrutiny of scions from a great nation as they sized up the visitors from the "minor state."
Roland's gaze swept across the opposing group, pausing briefly on one particular face: a tall, muscular, blond-haired youth.
As if sensing Roland's attention, the blond youth turned to look back. The mechanical scrutiny that had been etched on his face, identical to his peers', instantly dissolved into incredulous astonishment.
After a moment, he rubbed his eyes, disregarding etiquette, then hastily whispered something to his companions, barely maintaining a facade of composure.
Yet his eyes remained fixed on Roland, brimming with overwhelming questions and suppressed excitement.
After a brief welcoming ceremony and polite exchanges between the mentors, the students were given a moment to mingle freely.
The blond-haired youth finally seized his chance. He nodded to his companions before approaching Roland with forced composure, his steps noticeably quicker than usual. He stopped before Roland, scrutinizing him from head to toe as if to confirm he wasn't seeing a mirage.
"Roland?"
His voice was hushed, tinged with disbelief, yet retained the distinct clarity of a noble's accent.
"I never imagined... I'd see you here. You're representing the River Domain Nations?"
"Darco," Roland replied with a genuine smile. "It's been a long time. I see you've achieved your ambition of studying at the Knight Academy."
"Of course. The heir to the Collins Family naturally needs to hone his skills here."
Darco unconsciously tilted his chin upward, revealing a hint of innate superiority. But this air of superiority quickly dissolved when he looked at Roland, replaced by undisguised concern and a direct question.
"What about you? How did you... I mean, what are you doing now?"
He seemed to be searching for the right words, wanting to express his shock without being overly intrusive or rude.
"It seems you've had some extraordinary experiences since we last met."
Roland smiled, avoiding a direct answer. "It's a long story," he said simply.
Darco nodded understandingly, refraining from pressing for details. Instead, he reverted to their usual camaraderie, casually draping an arm over Roland's shoulder.
"Well, whatever it is, it's great to see you here."
Noticing that Roland's physique hadn't changed much since their parting in Blackwater Territory, Darco's lips curled into a grin. He subconsciously flexed his arm slightly, subtly showing off his own muscular build.
"Since you're here as an exchange student... we'll have to have a proper match sometime. Don't expect me to hold back."
Seeing his friend's eager anticipation, Roland couldn't bring himself to shatter his illusions immediately. He chuckled and replied vaguely, "Yeah, if we get the chance... we'll definitely spar."
The smile carried a hint of genuine joy at their reunion, but also a subtle undercurrent of helplessness and pity.
(End of the Chapter)
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