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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Lord Fourth
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“Are you there?”
At dawn that day, I knocked on the Archbishop’s door. A moment later, Archbishop Belwin, looking haggard, opened the door.
He saw my face and narrowed his tired eyes.
“Sir Elliot? What brings you here at this hour?”
“My apologies for the late hour.”
“No need to apologize. Sleep becomes a luxury as you get older.”
Belwin chuckled, stepping aside to let me in. He offered me a seat and some tea. I accepted gratefully, and he sat down opposite me.
“So, Sir Elliot, what brings you to this old man’s quarters?”
“It’s about Ophe… I mean, the Saintess.”
“What has Ophelia done now?”
“Well…”
Belwin’s expression darkened noticeably. He was the one who had witnessed Ophelia’s antics the longest in the Holy City, so it was understandable that he was fed up.
He looked ten years older than his actual age, and that was probably Ophelia’s doing.
I pulled the petition out of my pocket and placed it on the table. Belwin’s eyes widened as he slowly picked up the letter and read it.
“Sir Elliot, this is…”
“It appears to be a petition written by the Saintess herself. It seems she intends to send it directly to the Papal Office.”
“….”
Belwin was speechless. A petition sent to the Pope with the Saintess’s seal. It was similar to a strongly worded letter sent to a company commander, but the weight it carried was on a completely different level.
Perhaps it was more akin to a formal complaint filed against a high-ranking general.
If this went public, it would be beyond the Archbishop’s authority to handle. The Holy Knights directly under the Pope would descend upon the diocese and conduct a full investigation.
As for me, even if I claimed innocence, I wouldn’t be able to continue working as a paladin. Ophelia would undoubtedly suffer consequences as well. Despite that, she had written this letter…
“The Saintess seems to be quite angry. Enough to resort to false accusations.”
“Indeed…”
Belwin sighed deeply. He spoke with a melancholic expression.
“Ophelia… she grew up in a somewhat… stifling environment. While she may have lived comfortably, she was always in the eye of a political storm. It’s understandable that she developed such a difficult personality.”
I had heard that Ophelia grew up in the Holy City’s educational institution. Food, clothing, and shelter were all provided, and she even had personal servants attending to her every need.
What was so bad about that? By this world’s standards, it was practically paradise.
As someone who had faced countless near-death experiences during my hellish mercenary days, it sounded ludicrous. Belwin must have noticed my expression because he gave a wry smile.
“I suppose that wasn’t something I should say in front of you. This is all my fault. I failed to raise her properly. I sincerely apologize for…”
“There’s no need for that.”
I shook my head. Belwin didn’t need to apologize. He wasn’t her father; why should he take responsibility for Ophelia’s mistakes?
“Atonement is something the Saintess should do. In fact, she’s been doing just that.”
“She has?”
“She’s been training with me.”
“Tr-training… are you certain?”
“A rather… intense kind of training.”
“Huh.”
I had given Ophelia quite the lesson earlier. I made her train in swordsmanship until midnight, without even giving her dinner.
By the end of the training, she looked like a tumbleweed rolling across a desert. I stopped only because I feared she wouldn’t wake up the next day if I continued.
‘Die! Die! You bastard!’
Of course, Ophelia hadn’t held back her curses. However, I didn’t think simply pushing her physically would make her yield.
I planned to isolate Ophelia more thoroughly. I didn’t want to resort to such tactics, but Ophelia was proving to be more resilient than I had anticipated.
“I have a new proposal regarding the Saintess’s education.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, it’s something from my days in the… mercenary group.”
I tapped my finger on the table.
“Have you ever heard of… ostracization?”
Belwin’s eyebrows twitched.
The next day, Ophelia woke up to throbbing pain all over her body. Having pushed herself to her limits, even moving a finger was agonizing.
It was all because of yesterday’s training. Even though she had used healing magic to recover, it couldn’t completely eliminate the fatigue in her mind and muscles. Healing magic was restorative, not regenerative.
“This is the absolute worst.”
She muttered. She hadn’t expected Elliot to find the letter she intended to send to the Papal Office.
That devilish bastard. Making her train until late at night without even giving her dinner.
Growl.
“….”
The thought made her stomach rumble. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. She checked the time; the sun was already high in the sky.
Ophelia, mustering all her strength, pushed herself up and stumbled out of her room, her legs shaking. She spotted a servant passing by and called out,
“Hey. I’m hungry. Prepare my meal.”
However, the servant simply walked past her, quickening their pace. Ophelia’s face fell. This was unprecedented. A servant had ignored her command.
There had been times when they hadn’t heard her, but this was deliberate. Even after being humiliated by Elliot, Ophelia wasn’t going to tolerate being insulted by the servants. She shouted,
“Hey! Stop!”
But no one in the hallway reacted. Well, not exactly. Their faces were tense. They seemed to be afraid of incurring her wrath, yet they were deliberately trying to ignore her presence. In other words, they were intentionally ostracizing her. Why?
“…What’s going on?”
Muttering in a daze, Ophelia descended the stairs and went out to the backyard. Her legs trembled the entire way, so she sat down on a nearby bench to catch her breath. And then she realized.
No one was paying attention to her. Usually, at least one or two servants would approach her, eager to attend to her needs.
As she pondered this, someone approached the bench.
“Good afternoon.”
“…Elliot.”
“Yes. Your knight, Elliot.”
Elliot placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head.
“Why that expression?”
“…Did you do this?”
“Do what?”
Ophelia glared at Elliot.
“The servants aren’t listening to me. Did you do something?”
Her voice was cold. Elliot seemed to consider her question for a moment, then shrugged.
“I don’t know. Perhaps the servants are being considerate of you.”
“Considerate? What do you mean?”
“You said you were observing a vow of silence, didn’t you? Perhaps they are respecting your grand decision.”
“….”
As Ophelia stared at him, dumbfounded, Elliot grabbed her arm and pulled her up. Her joints screamed in protest, and pain shot through her body. But Elliot didn’t loosen his grip.
“What now?!”
“What else? Training.”
“Huh?”
“Didn’t I tell you yesterday that we’d be training today as well? Let’s go. The sun is already high in the sky.”
“I-I can’t move!”
“You can move. It’s actually better to exercise when your muscles are sore.”
Ophelia’s face fell.
Two days later. As the sun began to set in the west, casting long shadows across the backyard, Ophelia sat on her usual bench.
“Ugh.”
She gasped for breath, feeling nauseous. She had returned to her quarters after three days of grueling training, but she was so exhausted that she couldn’t even muster the strength to climb the stairs.
She was utterly drained. And Elliot had already declared that the training would continue tomorrow.
“I… I might die.”
She muttered. But what tormented her even more than the physical exhaustion was the servants’ attitude. She had been sitting on the bench for over half an hour, covered in bruises, but no one had even glanced at her.
The servants who had always catered to her every whim were now treating her like a stranger, coldly indifferent. No, they weren’t even reacting to her presence.
“…Why?”
She had spent her entire life being revered as the Saintess. For Ophelia, with her immense pride and dislike of solitude, this situation was excruciating.
She had even tried talking to the knights at the training grounds, but they had simply slipped away.
Her holy robe reeked, unwashed for days because the servants hadn’t attended to her laundry.
No one had done her makeup, and she didn’t know how to do it herself, so she looked disheveled and dirty.
No one had prepared her meals, so she had to go to the pantry herself and gnaw on dry rye bread.
After two days of nothing but rye bread, she felt sick to her stomach.
The servants who usually prepared her bath were nowhere to be found, so she had to build the fire herself. She had even burned herself in the process, but no one came to her aid, no one expressed any concern.
“….”
It had only been two days. But the profound emptiness was more unbearable than the physical pain. No one cared, no one paid attention to her. She felt another wave of nausea rising. Feeling like she was withering away, Ophelia licked her dry lips. She spotted a maid passing by and called out to her.
“You, come here.”
“….”
The maid flinched but quickly walked away, exiting the garden. Finally, Ophelia snapped.
“Hey! Do you want to die?! I said, come here!”
Only after Ophelia’s outburst did the maid tremble and hesitantly turn around. Looking at Ophelia with a troubled expression, she bowed her head and muttered,
“I-I apologize… It’s the Archbishop’s orders…”
“…What?”
“I’m sorry!”
The maid quickly scurried away, as if afraid of being seen. Dumbfounded, Ophelia pinched her cheek. It hurt. Of course, her body was already screaming in pain from the training, even without pinching herself. She did it anyway because the maid’s words felt so unreal.
The Archbishop had ordered them to ignore her. It was shocking.
“That old geezer Belwin? Me?”
She was already furious about him appointing Elliot as her Disciplinary Officer. Why was he doing this to her? He hadn’t said anything before. He had tolerated everything she did.
Ophelia’s face crumpled in anger, and she stood up abruptly. She was going to confront Belwin. She was even prepared to hold a knife to her own throat and threaten to kill herself. However…
“Even so, you shouldn’t take your anger out on a passing maid.”
Elliot’s voice, coming from behind her, made Ophelia flinch. She whirled around to see Elliot, a smug look on his face. In just a week, Elliot, who had been nothing more than an amusing toy for Ophelia, had become the person she least wanted to see.
“It’s none of your business.”
“No, I’m your Disciplinary Officer. It’s my duty to teach you basic manners.”
“…F-fuck off.”
She spoke in a raspy voice. Elliot shrugged.
“At this rate, no one will respect you.”
“I don’t need respect. Obedience is all that matters.”
That’s how the Holy City worked. As long as she possessed the Mark of the Heavenly God, the devotees had to revere her.
“Well, you’re not wrong, but… that only applies if you fulfill your duties. From what I see, you’re not fulfilling your duties.”
“…I said, shut up.”
“Well, even I would want to avoid a liar like you.”
Ophelia’s mind cleared.
Liar.
He was talking about the petition he had found the other day. She finally understood.
The knights and servants were ignoring her. The Archbishop wouldn’t do such a thing.
It was all this despicable knight’s doing. Elliot must have reported her to the Archbishop. He had outsmarted her.
“You…”
It was him. He was the one behind all of this. Ophelia felt like her head was about to explode.
“…It’s because of you.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s all your fault… You… you…”
She tried to yell, but whether it was fear of another slap or simply exhaustion, her vision suddenly blurred.
“You…”
It wasn’t her vision blurring. Tears welled up in Ophelia’s eyes. Elliot’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t expected her to cry. And neither had Ophelia.
Shame burned her cheeks. She felt like she had lost. Her pride was wounded.
A lump formed in her throat, choking her words. Tears streamed down her face.
“…You’re so mean.”
She managed to choke out the words. Ophelia turned and fled from Elliot.
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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.
