Chapter 51 Sender: Eric, Holy Capital First High School Experimental Class

In the morning, study continental history, church history, and various theological classics at the seminary of the monastery. In the afternoon, study ancient languages, papal liturgy, and all sorts of practical sacred arts. Every three days, serve a day of duty at the Saintess Tower, following the female officials to initially understand and familiarize oneself with the workflow of the Saintess's Convent. Every five days, pay a visit to the Pope and the College of Cardinals in the Apostolic Palace, because the Saintess is, within the Curia, a special cardinal. Finally, one can rest one day every seven days. This was the preliminary study plan personally formulated by the Saintess for Eric.

Eric sat below, motionless, listening numbly.

"There will be an assessment once a month, for which I will be personally responsible," the Saintess was still saying. "If you fail—"

"—will my qualification as successor be revoked?" Eric suddenly interrupted.

"Then will you find me a suitable replacement successor?"

Without even glancing at him, the Saintess continued, "Of course you won't be revoked, your subsequent study assignments will simply be doubled."

Eric grinned, though his pupils remained completely still.

Studying history, learning foreign languages, working six days with one day off, practical classes every three to five days, plus mandatory boarding... Where on earth had he been sent, Holy Capital High School Number One?

"You'd better pray I can live a few more years."

Chanting away, the Saintess ignored his petty emotional fluctuations. "Otherwise, when the time comes, you can't even imagine how pathetic you'll be. Over sixty years ago, only a few months after I was chosen as the Saintess's successor, the previous Saintess returned to the Divine Kingdom..."

As the elderly Saintess spoke of the past, Eric let it go in one ear and out the other. Seeming to listen, he was actually plotting in his mind what on earth he should do.

The Saintess's words were clearly no joke. The moment he dared to take a step away, a regiment of the Protection Knights would come to capture him the next second—just now, right in front of him, the Saintess had given an order to a certain commander of the Protection Knights, pointing at his face and declaring that he must never be allowed to take a single step out of the inner city.

Yet he could not simply wait here until the Saintess ascended to heaven.

Irene's study of magic could not brook any delay, and his own strength urgently needed enhancement. The southward advance of the Demon Clan was imminent; even if he could not stop it, he had to find a way to stall the process. If given the opportunity, he wanted to personally go to the frontline of the Empire resisting the Demon Clan, and visit the Black Ice Great Wall in the Far North...

What should he do?

Eric pondered bitterly, his direction of thought gradually shifting amidst unconscious compromises.

At least for the time being, he could not leave the Holy Capital. According to the Saintess's intent, his communications remained free; perhaps... he could entrust a portion of matters to others to resolve?

"—Where was I?"

Because of an old anecdote, the Saintess paused her recollection for a moment, only to find she could not remember where she had just left off.

"You were saying that a noble in Rutia wrote to you, hoping to end his daughter's training early so she could return home and get married, and you rejected him," Eric found that his ability to multitask was not bad at all.

"Oh... right. It was only five years in total; where is the logic in returning halfway through one's training to get married? What do they take the Saintess's monastery for?"

The Saintess recalled and continued, "I wrote back to reprimand him. As a result, he was so frightened that within a couple of days, he rushed over from Rutia, kneeling all the way from the spot where the Saintess Tower could be seen right up to the gates of the Holy City."

Eric remarked casually, "I wouldn't have thought that someone of your status would even bother with such trivial matters."

"Who made him a relative of mine? Before I became the Saintess, I still had to call him uncle."

Eric was left speechless.

"We've strayed rather far." Stopping herself, the Saintess looked at him and said, "Aside from what I've mentioned, is there anything else you wish to learn?"

Lowering his head and turning it aside so his eye-rolling wouldn't be too obvious, Eric replied, "Just these courses alone are already enough for me to study for several years, Your Grace."

The Saintess didn't mind. "Then let it be so. Prepare yourself and attend the banquet; this is your first test."

Eric stood up, preparing to take his leave, when a thought suddenly struck him.

"Your Grace, whatever I wish to learn, will you permit it?"

The old woman glanced over. "Stop beating around the bush."

"As you should know, I am a warrior, and I require combat training," Eric said.

The Saintess looked at him for a moment. "Given your current status, it is no longer appropriate for you to personally engage in combat."

"Future events are hard to say." Eric met her gaze.

"Then do as you please."

The Saintess shook her head, lacking the energy and the inclination to trouble herself over such matters. "Any of those people in the Knights are qualified to be your teacher. Discuss it with Edward yourself and arrange a time for training."

Edward was the commander of the Third Regiment of the Holy Capital's Protection Knights. He and his subordinates served as the armed force exclusively belonging to the Saintess's Monastery. Eric thanked the Saintess and turned to leave.

Returning to his quarters and gazing upon the exquisite luxury before him, Eric's mood was vastly different from when he had first arrived.

—The presidential suite he originally thought he would only stay in for a few days had now transformed into a luxury prison restricting his personal freedom.

Fortunately, apart from not being able to leave, all other requests could be satisfied, which wasn't too bad.

After pondering for a while, Eric went to the study and began writing letters.

The first letter was to his uncle Edgar, detailing his situation here, including his smooth succession as the Saintess's successor, the secret agreement reached with the Saintess, and the fact that he was forced to remain in the Holy Capital.

The second letter was still addressed to Edgar. Eric asked if his uncle knew anyone among the garrison stationed at the Black Ice Great Wall in the northern border. If so, he requested a covert investigation into any potential internal traitors; if not, he asked him to dispatch some reliable individuals north to investigate.

The third letter...

Eric hesitated for a moment, temporarily shelving the plan to have his uncle secretly find a magic tutor for Irene. Instead, he wrote a greeting letter to Irene, sharing some interesting sights and experiences he had encountered in the Holy Capital.

Having finished these three letters, Eric put down his pen.

Since he was to remain in the Holy Capital, Weyli and the other guards who had accompanied him could not wait here indefinitely. Eric intended to send them back and have them deliver the letters to his uncle along the way.

Checking the time, it was nearly time for the banquet to begin. This was a banquet initiated in his name; he could not be absent, and he would be the only one attending, as the Saintess would not join in such lively affairs.

Tidying up, Eric went outside. The banquet was held in a dedicated banquet hall within the monastery. When he arrived, the long table was already laden with fine food and some wine—though not much, for while clerics could drink, they were forbidden from intoxication. Imposing a direct limit was simpler and more effective than controlling desires.

Aside from the nuns of the monastery, the attendees included several papal cardinals—in a sense, Eric's future colleagues—as well as some devout believers who had come from the outer city, though Eric felt "wealthy believers" was a more fitting description, as every single one of them was an affluent person clad in gorgeous attire.

The moment Eric stepped out, he drew everyone's attention.

"Your Grace."

"Lord Eric!"

"Your Highness, the quasi-Saintess—"

The fact that the Saintess's successor was male seemed to be something no one cared about at all.

The cardinals nodded to him with restraint and politeness, the believers enthusiastically cheered his name, and the nuns of the monastery surrounded him with even more practical actions, proclaiming who the true master of this banquet was.

Eric suddenly felt a familiar sensation.

"It really is much the same everywhere..."

He raised his goblet to the guests and drained it skillfully, along with his abruptly rising sentiment.