Chapter Four: A Seat at the Pyre Pillar

The letter in the young nun's hand was likely destined for the Holy Capital of Laisier, Eric speculated.

Changing the successor to the Saintess was a grave matter that Sister Alana could not decide on her own, nor did she have the authority to do so. Whether it was to be approved or rejected, the final decision had to come from the Convent of the Saintess.

Although Laisier was thousands of miles away, correspondence did not take long to arrive; an urgent letter could be delivered in little more than a day. She could certainly afford to wait.

"Is Miss Sophie planning to send—"

*Clatter!*

As soon as Eric spoke, Sophie snapped out of her daze, turned, and ducked back into the room, slamming the door shut.

"..."

Did he look like he was going to snatch the letter?

Eric shook his head. Gazing at the tightly shut door, he asked the Head Maid, Lady Winnie, who was serving outside, "Is this Miss Sophie’s room?"

"No, this is the room of Sister Alana, the Mother Superior," the head maid replied. "Miss Sophie’s room is next door."

"Has the Mother Superior woken up?"

"There has been no movement."

Lady Winnie glanced at the door and shook her head, unable to give a definitive answer. "Only Miss Sophie appeared, asking for paper and pen."

Eric understood.

Since he was already here, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. "Miss Sophie."

Silence reigned within; there was no response.

He knocked again.

After a short while, Eric thought he heard a faint sigh, followed by the voice of Sister Alana.

"Sophie, go open the door."

The door opened. The young nun exchanged a glance with Eric, then lowered her gaze and stepped aside to let him pass, clutching the letter even tighter.

Eric stepped into the guest room. Alana was leaning against the headboard, showing no signs of weakness, and her gaze toward him was equally calm.

...If she could have at least pretended a little better, it wouldn't have been so transparent.

"Mother Superior Alana, you have finally awakened."

Eric gauged her attitude and stopped at a respectful distance; he was here to negotiate, not to cause trouble. "How are you feeling now? Are you doing well?"

"A little better." Alana did not avoid his gaze. "I am sorry for causing trouble for you and the Count."

"Do not concern yourself with that."

She seemed willing to talk. Eric smiled and went straight to the point: "Miss Sophie seemed to be intending to send a letter just now?"

"It is a letter I have written to the Convent of the Saintess."

The letter had to be sent, and Alana had no intention of hiding it. "An accident occurred during the handover of the sacred relic; the matter is of great importance and must be brought to the attention of Her Holiness the Saintess. Any decision can only come from her."

She looked at Eric, waiting for his reaction while contemplating her counter-strategy and rhetoric. After all, she had defined everything that happened today as an "accident," rather than the "divine miracle" he might have hoped for.

The young master of the City Lord's Mansion, however, merely nodded with an expression of complete agreement.

"With a matter this significant, Her Holiness the Saintess should indeed be informed."

Alana couldn't help but frown.

She didn't fear him making trouble; she feared him *not* making trouble. After causing such a massive commotion in the square, why was he playing the role of the honest, obedient child now?

The "not-so-honest" young master of the City Lord's Mansion soon made his own request:

"I am sure Mother Superior Alana will not forget to mention me in the letter. I would like to take this opportunity to write a letter to Her Holiness the Saintess as well, merely to offer my greetings. That would be no problem, would it?"

It was just as she expected.

Alana sat up straight, bracing herself for the challenge. "No problem, provided it is only a greeting."

There was paper and ink in the room. Eric sat at the table, picked up a quill, dipped it into the ink, and began to write.

He dashed off a few lines of greeting, signed his name at the bottom, dried the ink, folded the letter, and handed it to the young nun, Sophie.

"...For me?"

Sophie took it blankly and looked toward the Mother Superior.

"Mr. Eric, I must inspect the contents of the letter."

Alana looked at Eric. "While I do not doubt your piety, excessive enthusiasm can sometimes be a form of offense... and the Saintess is not to be profaned."

Eric expressed his understanding and told her to inspect it as she pleased.

Alana took the letter. It was only a few lines, which could be scanned in a glance, yet she read it over and over for quite some time.

"Is this some kind of code?" She looked at Eric.

"A code?"

Eric was taken aback, then shook his head. "No, it is only meant to be taken literally. I believe these few sentences are not enough to offend Her Holiness."

That was debatable...

Alana said nothing, read it a few more times, and handed the letter to Sophie.

"Hmm..." The young nun took it and muttered, "Is this a poem?"

Could that even be called a poem?

Eric couldn't help but chuckle. He noticed both nuns staring at him with a hint of tension, as if guarding against an impending conspiracy, so he coughed to cover his amusement, feeling a bit helpless.

He was, after all, a descendant of the founding knights and a nobleman known for his honor; these two nuns were far too suspicious of him.

"I believe the core of a greeting lies in its content, not its form," Eric said.

Looking at those few lines, there was indeed no obvious sign of offense or profanity...

Alana glanced at the young master of the City Lord's Mansion, who seemed to feel wronged, and thought to herself:

If there were some malice she couldn't detect that the Saintess could understand, that would simply be direct proof of Eric's or the Cimino family's arrogance and lack of respect, and not her responsibility.

...After all, since the Saintess had entrusted this matter to her, she could not escape responsibility regardless.

Alana took a deep breath, suppressing a faint headache, and signaled for Sophie to take Eric’s letter along with hers. "Send them together."

Sophie packed the letters. Eric turned and called out to the hallway: "Lady Winnie, find someone to take Miss Sophie to post these letters."

"Yes, young master."

The head maid responded and waited outside the door. Sophie looked at Alana, who nodded, and then she followed the maid out.

The room was left with only the two of them.

"Is it convenient to speak here?" Alana asked, her eyes fixed on the open door.

Finally, they could get to the point.

"Of course." Eric felt a sense of relief and went to close the door himself, then turned to face the Mother Superior on the bed.

"Faking a miracle was a capital offense that would have sent one to the stake a hundred years ago."

Alana’s tone was calm, but her words were merciless. "Even a nobleman, even a descendant of the Cimino line, cannot escape the punishment of the Holy See."

"Is that so?"

Eric paused, then asked casually, "And what is the punishment a hundred years later?"

"..."

The young master of the City Lord's Mansion seemed to have never considered such things.

Alana looked at him for a moment before saying, "Excommunication."

"The highest level of 'anathema'? For a nobleman, that is quite serious indeed." Eric smiled as if it were none of his concern, as if he were discussing a piece of gossip about someone else.

Could anything be worse than death?

The Mother Superior was not swayed by his attitude and continued, "The so-called miracle Mr. Eric created in the square—although I have never witnessed it—I can be certain it was a man-made divine art."

"Of course it was a divine art."

Eric admitted it quite readily. "And it was one I performed. I would never dare to claim it was a true miracle."

Alana stared at him. "But Mr. Eric, you publicly claimed to have heard a divine oracle, and the citizens in the square were deeply convinced by your words."

"Because it was not a lie; I truly did hear it."

As if recalling the scene, Eric clasped his hands in a gesture of prayer.

"The divine art was taught to me by the Goddess Yella, and she granted me the power to perform it. Otherwise, how could a layman like me, at twenty... sixteen years old, perform a divine art that even the emissaries of the Saintess have never seen?"

The Mother Superior rose from the bed and adopted the same prayerful posture. "If that is true, then please, Mr. Eric, perform the divine art granted by the gods once more. The followers of Yella have a duty to spread her gospel to the world."

He couldn't perform it; the "gospel" was still recharging.

Moreover, he didn't even have the Saintess’s veil on him anymore.

"I cannot perform it now."

Eric shook his head and lowered his gaze, his prayerful posture becoming even more pious.

"I am merely a layman. Successfully performing such a divine art once was my absolute limit; to perform it again requires a long period of rest."

Seeing his refusal, Alana said nothing.

Her silent gaze lingered on him for a moment before shifting to the closed door behind him. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her long legs covered by the nun's habit, and let out a soft breath.

"Mr. Eric."

"Mother Superior?" He lowered his hands and looked at Alana, who had softened her stance.

"You must understand that Sophie and I are only messengers. Our actual duty is merely to convey the sacred relic of the Saintess; we have no authority to make any decisions."

"That is correct," Eric said.

The Mother Superior took a deep breath and implored him solemnly:

"So, regardless of what plans you or your family may have, please, at the very least, do not make things difficult for us. Sophie and I are just ordinary nuns; we have little standing in the convent and can accomplish nothing, nor do we have any intention of being drawn into any disputes related to the nobility or the Empire."

"...Hm?"

As he listened, Eric’s expression gradually froze.

There had been a massive misunderstanding.

Family plans? Disputes involving the nobility and the Empire? None of that existed!

He finally understood why the two nuns were so guarded against him—they thought they had been caught in some political conspiracy meticulously crafted by a noble family!

Eric felt a mix of amusement and helplessness. It was truly his own fault for choosing the "perfect" moment to awaken the memories of his past life; otherwise, he wouldn't have chosen such an extreme method.

And that extraordinary performance, in the eyes of these emissaries from the Holy Capital, naturally became the signal for some conspiracy unfolding—using a fake miracle to win over the hearts of the people. If one were to take it to the extreme, it could even be seen as the beginning of the Cimino family’s attempt to overthrow the Empire...

Eric finally began to grasp the real-world impact of faking a miracle.

He really did belong at the stake.

"Mother Superior Alana, I fear there is a misunderstanding. What happened today was not part of any plan; it was simply an act I performed spontaneously after sensing a divine oracle..."

Before the whole situation could veer into an uncontrollable direction, Eric had no choice but to offer an explanation to soothe the overly sensitive nun.

He clasped his hands and assumed a prayerful posture once more.

"Regarding your concerns, I swear on my own life and the honor of the Cimino family before the gods: this incident is absolutely not a political conspiracy."

Alana gazed at him for a long time without a word. Finally, she lowered her eyes and slowly exhaled.

"...If that is the case, I believe you, Mr. Eric."

As to what extent she believed him, and which parts she actually believed, only she knew.

The matter had already been reported to the Saintess. Regardless of the truth, she was now the one waiting for instructions.

In a few days, there would be a result.

"According to the original schedule, when is Irene supposed to depart for the Holy Capital?" Eric suddenly asked.

"In two months."

Alana answered truthfully; this was information that was originally meant to be conveyed to the Saintess’s family. "The Saintess gave us three months; we only need to return to the Holy Capital before the deadline."

"With you?"

"Yes."

"Then there is still plenty of time," Eric said. "There is a more pressing matter that requires Mother Superior Alana’s attention."

"...What is it?"

He told her about the discovery of the undead in the town of Valet. The Mother Superior’s brow, which had been tightly furrowed, gradually relaxed, and a flicker of surprise appeared on her face.

So it was just that kind of matter...

"I am not a combat nun, though I spent a few years training at the northern border with one... however, that is not important. I can indeed handle the problem of the undead; I will go and take a look."

"The Saintess’s reply should arrive in the next few days."

Alana paused, then said to Eric, "I hope that by the time I return, Mr. Eric will be able to face this matter more rationally."

"Hm?"

Eric was startled, then shook his head. "How could I let the emissaries of the Holy Capital face danger alone? The City Lord's Mansion will send men to accompany you, myself included."

Alana frowned. "They are just some undead; there is no need for such trouble..."

She was counting on being away for a few days to avoid him until the Saintess’s reply arrived.

"—Those are not ordinary undead, and there is more than just 'some' of them. If I do not go, I fear Mother Superior Alana and Miss Sophie will never return."

"..."

"You would be bitten to death, and she would succumb to fatal wounds."

Eric raised his hand, pointing toward the unseen sky, suddenly realizing that he was beginning to get used to using the name of the gods.

"I am not joking. Yella told me so."