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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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“Forget what you just saw.”
Ophelia grumbled, clinging to my back. She couldn’t walk after Benedict stabbed her thigh.
She had stopped the bleeding with divine magic, but such a deep wound would take a few days to heal. And more than the physical pain, she seemed to be suffering from emotional distress.
“That bitch Emily, why didn’t she warn me?”
“Haha.”
“Don’t laugh. I’ll bite you.”
Having inadvertently flashed me due to her reversed robes, Ophelia was understandably mortified. She quickly turned her robes back the right way.
Fortunately, Alberich and Owen were busy dealing with the other assassins, so I was the only man present, and Emily, the self-proclaimed morality police, had diligently supervised the… wardrobe malfunction, preventing me from getting an eyeful.
‘Don’t even think about peeking. I’ll kill you.’
Ophelia had warned me before changing. I had tried to reassure her.
‘Don’t worry. I have absolutely no desire to peek.’
But her response had been, ‘Have a little desire!’
I looked at Emily, confused, and she blushed and turned away.
I would never understand Ophelia.
Anyway, Benedict was dealt with. Now, for the final reckoning.
“Ophelia, what do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to punch the Pope in the face. Hard.”
“Really? What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Shall we go, then?”
“Let’s go.”
For once, we were in agreement. We returned to the annex, which Alberich and Owen had already cleared. The priests, seeing my bloodstained appearance, trembled, looking at me as if I were Satan.
“Do I look that scary?”
“Yes.”
Alberich replied without hesitation. We were about to confront the Pope when Ophelia stopped me.
“Ured.”
“Oh, you’ve found him. Impressive.”
Ured was still hanging from the wall. Ophelia healed him with divine magic.
It was slightly disturbing to see his bones snapping back into place.
“Oh, the Saintess’s grace…! I, Ured, am eternally grateful! I pledge my life to your service! Ah, yes! A geas! I’ll swear a geas!”
“Tell that idiot to shut up.”
“Impossible.”
The Pope, Eudor, was on the top floor of the annex. The door was locked, so I prepared to break it down. But Ophelia smacked me on the back and pulled out her hairpin.
“That’s why you’re always resorting to violence. Use your head.”
She picked the lock with the hairpin. Owen, who had caught up to us, stared at her in disbelief.
“Is that… difficult?”
“You usually need specialized tools…”
Come to think of it, Ophelia’s lockpicking skill was quite high in the game. Thanks to her, we entered the Pope’s room without any resistance.
Pope Eudor and five cardinals were inside, staring at us with wide eyes.
“Well, well, well. Look who it is.”
Ophelia said. She strode across the room like a conquering hero, with me, her trusty steed, carrying her on my back, and stopped in front of Eudor’s desk.
“What is the meaning of this?! How dare you intrude upon my chambers?!”
Eudor yelled, his gold-embroidered robes billowing around him. But no one paid him any attention.
“Now, Pope, let’s be reasonable. You’re in a rather precarious position, wouldn’t you say?”
I tried to reason with him, but Eudor simply gritted his teeth and pointed at me.
“Elliot, you heretic! How dare you speak to me like that! Guards! Sword Saint! What is going on here?!”
“Well…”
Alberich looked at me.
I was the hero; I should be the one to reveal it.
I casually removed my glove and fanned myself with my hand.
“Ophelia, isn’t it hot in here?”
“Yeah. It’s hotter than the Auriga Desert. Is it because this geezer is having a meltdown? Hey, Cardinal, open a window. I’m dying of heat.”
But neither the cardinals nor the Pope moved. Their gazes were fixed on the back of my hand. The Pope slumped back in his chair, his face pale.
“The hero…”
“Do you understand the situation now?”
Attempted murder of the hero. Kidnapping of the Saintess. And they had committed these crimes in the Empire, not their own territory.
They hadn’t just been caught; they had been thoroughly defeated by the Sword Saint, no less.
These were serious crimes.
“….”
I walked towards Eudor, carrying Ophelia on my back. The cardinals didn’t dare to stop me. The title of “hero” carried a certain weight.
I still felt disgusted about being a replacement hero, but the perks weren’t bad.
Eudor looked at Ophelia, his face contorted in a grimace.
“Ophelia, you’re my avatar…”
“Don’t say my name.”
“…U-um…”
Even the Pope, who would normally be yelling at her, was silenced. The Mark bearers, including Alberich, were watching intently. And I, the hero, was glaring at him.
“Try anything funny, and there won’t be a Holy City left.”
“….”
The Pope looked at the cardinals, then spoke in a low voice,
“Where’s Benedict?”
“Dead.”
“….”
I ignored the cardinals’ gasps and gently set Ophelia down on a chair. I placed my hand on the back of the chair.
“Aren’t you going to apologize?”
“…Well…”
Eudor’s eyes wavered. Apologizing to his adopted daughter was probably beneath him. I drew the holy sword and plunged it into the table.
Eudor flinched. This world, where people worshipped a fraud like him, was truly messed up.
“If you don’t apologize…”
“Elliot, it’s fine.”
Ophelia stopped me.
“I wasn’t expecting an apology. And I don’t want one. It’s fine.”
“…Ophelia.”
“I just have something to say.”
Ophelia looked at Eudor.
“I…”
She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, then said, her voice trembling,
“I’m not… your tool…”
She continued,
“I’m not God’s representative. My actions don’t represent God’s will. I’m not your avatar, and my words aren’t yours.” The words she had been forced to recite countless times in the Papal Office.
“I’m not a bringer of light, and I’m certainly not a Saintess. And more importantly…”
Ophelia’s voice was choked with sobs. Years of pent-up frustration.
She really was a crybaby.
“I’m… not a Meredith.”
She declared, her face contorted, but she continued,
“I’m just… Ophelia. So, don’t get in my way.”
“….”
Everyone in the room was silent. I placed my hand on Ophelia’s shoulder, and her trembling subsided. Our eyes met.
Tears streamed down her face, but a mischievous smile played on her lips.
“And… this is my answer.”
Ophelia said, and…
Thwack.
Pope Eudor’s face turned white. Ophelia had kicked him in the groin.
With her bare foot. Hard.
The meeting was postponed. A new Continental Alliance meeting would be held a few days later.
If this meeting were a web novel, the title would probably be something like:
The Trash Hero Has Appeared!
The hero had suddenly appeared, gathered the Mark bearers in the Grand Conference Hall, and assaulted the Pope.
One casualty. And the Holy City had been the aggressor.
The continental leaders decided that a thorough investigation was necessary. So, Ophelia and I were currently confined, not protected, in a guest room.
“So, are you going to be executed?”
“Who would dare execute the hero? Besides, the Sword Saint, the Archmage, and the Intelligence are all vouching for me, so it should be fine.”
“Why are they the ones deciding my escort knight’s fate when I, the Saintess, am willing to vouch for him?”
“That’s because of your… reputation.”
“Shut up.”
Ophelia grumbled, then put her bandaged leg on my lap. I massaged it without complaint.
“It hurts.”
“You’re still young, you’ll heal soon soon enough.”
“Ugh, you sound like an old man.”
“….”
I sighed.
“Well, we did manage to turn the Holy City upside down.”
“That’s true.”
Belwin had sent a letter from the Holy City a few days ago, filled with worry.
Ured, leaning on a crutch, had visited yesterday to give us updates.
And Emily and Elderian had brought refreshments a few hours ago for a tea party. Things were going smoothly.
“How does it feel to be free?”
“I don’t really feel any different.”
“That’s what freedom is. It’s not something you feel the moment you obtain it.”
I chuckled, and Ophelia grinned, then turned around and rested her head on my leg. Our eyes met.
“Is this comfortable?”
“No, your leg is too bony. It’s a terrible pillow.”
We had been chatting like this for three days. It wasn’t uncomfortable. We had regular meals, snacks whenever Ophelia wanted them, books when she was bored, and a physician when she was feeling unwell.
It was practically paradise. It was the most comfortable I had been since leaving the Holy City. But even paradise could become boring.
I stretched my stiff limbs.
Click.
The meeting should be starting soon. Just then, the door opened. Alberich, the Sword Saint, stood there.
“Sir Elliot, and… Sai… Ophelia.”
“Have they finally decided our fate?”
“Something like that.”
Alberich shrugged. His relaxed expression suggested it wasn’t anything serious.
“So, what’s going to happen to me?”
“It’s nothing much.”
Alberich continued,
“You’re going to stand trial.”
“….”
He said it was “nothing much.”
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Hi Lord Fourth here!
I’m still new to translating as this is my second novel to pick up, so if you find some mistakes or inconsistencies let me know about it on the dedicated channel on discord.
