Episode 78
Against all odds, they managed to hold their ground against the infamous “Black Prince” and reclaim Reims without shedding a drop of blood.
This victory was entirely due to the efforts of the Holy Maiden, Aurelia. Even Dale handed over the kingdom’s capital in her name.
“The Holy Maiden has reclaimed the capital!”
“Wow!”
“The mercy and grace of the Sister Goddesses are with the Holy Maiden!”
“The Goddess is watching over us!”
The people of Reims, and even the Britannian independence forces, shouted the name of the Holy Maiden, Aurelia, rather than that of Charles VII, the rightful heir to the Britannian throne.
‘These… these people…!’
How must this have felt to Charles VII?
‘It’s me, I’m the one destined to be king of this kingdom!’
Yet no one cared about Charles VII, the legitimate heir of the Britannian royal family. It was the Holy Maiden, Aurelia, who united and led the Britannian independence forces against the empire’s tyranny, along with the kingdom’s old champions who shared her vision.
Charles VII was only able to become king because the Holy Maiden Aurelia endorsed him. That was the extent of it.
In other words…
──What if the Holy Maiden no longer wished for Charles VII to be king?
For a moment, Charles VII felt like nothing more than a puppet dancing to the Holy Maiden’s tune.
The idea that the Goddess’s devout champion could harbor any dark or political motives was absurd. But that changed nothing.
People see what they want to see, after all.
The Britannian independence forces reclaimed their capital, and soon after, the coronation was conducted by Thomas Becket, a 7th-circle white mage and archbishop.
With the anointing of holy oil by the bishop, it was officially declared that the rightful king of Britannia had ascended.
The empire’s enemy was no longer just a ragtag group of Britannian rebels. They now faced the “Britannian Royal Army,” bolstered by knights, aura masters, and 7th-circle white mages supporting the Holy Maiden.
The end of the war was finally in sight.
It was time to drive the empire from its last stronghold on the Britannian Isle.
The imperial territory on the Britannian Isle. The last bastion under the empire’s governor, Burgundy.
“You, you, you incompetent fool…!”
Amidst the endless stream of bad news for the empire, Philip pointed an accusing finger at Dale.
“How could you surrender Reims without a fight? What were you thinking?”
As if chastising Dale’s incompetence.
“Your ignorance of war is so profound, I am at a loss for words!”
“Is that so.”
Dale remained unfazed, as if it wasn’t worth responding to.
“Clearly, you are utterly unfit to lead this war…”
Seeing Dale’s silence, Philip’s confidence grew, and he continued. Or tried to.
Snap.
A sharp sound echoed, and flames erupted. From Philip’s mouth.
“Mmmph, mmmph!”
The flames seared Philip’s tongue.
“If you continue to spout nonsense, I’ll burn that pig-like tongue of yours.”
Lady Scarlet, a high elder of the Red Tower, spoke coldly. Yet no one paid any mind to Philip’s agony.
The Black Prince, Lady Scarlet, Cardinal Nikolai, the governor of Burgundy. Even Philip’s father, the Holy Knight Count Brandenburg.
Initially, the Holy Knight shared Philip’s sentiments upon hearing Dale’s plan to surrender Reims.
But after returning to Burgundy, the empire’s last bastion, with the unbelievable tale of the Black Prince’s draw against the Holy Maiden at the drawbridge of Reims… Dale’s calm demeanor was evident.
“As promised, I will lead us to victory in this war.”
Dale had staked his heart on the line, should they fail to win. Yet, how could he remain so composed and confident?
“Do you truly have a way to win?”
“You can’t destroy what doesn’t exist…”
Dale nodded in response to the Holy Knight’s question.
“But what does exist, you can.”
His expression was one of certainty, as if the outcome of the war lay in his hands.
Count Brandenburg could not bring himself to smile.
He could only imagine the renown of the “Black Prince” echoing throughout the empire after their victory.
Despite Philip’s historical blunder that cost the empire half its forces, the empire’s army, now on the defensive, would crush the “Britannian Kingdom” and claim victory.
But there was no other choice.
The Holy Knight’s heart was already bound by a geas to obey Dale’s commands in all future operations and to entrust the treatment of captured prisoners to him.
No battle is without scars. Even the victorious independence forces were no exception.
In fact, achieving victory with such a small force was a miracle in itself.
Had they not captured Philip and seized a large cache of supplies just before reaching the end of their offensive, the advance would have halted.
Capturing Philip and taking the impregnable fortress of Belfort, reclaiming the capital Reims without bloodshed—these were nothing short of divine miracles.
But that was as far as it went.
War is driven by gold.
And around that time, King Charles VII of Britannia was deeply troubled.
The presence of the Holy Maiden, who threatened his position with the backing of the Goddess’s name. And the fact that his finances, poured into the independence war, were running dry.
Investing in the Holy Maiden’s visions had finally drained the coffers.
“We must advance into Burgundy’s imperial territory and drive them out completely.”
Despite this, the Holy Maiden Aurelia stood firm in her resolve.
Following the Goddess’s will, she would not rest until the empire was expelled from the Britannian Isle, until the port city of Dover, where the empire first landed, was reclaimed, and the entire island was painted as the kingdom’s territory. Her mission was unwavering.
Her determination was a heavy burden for Charles VII.
“But Holy Maiden, isn’t the remaining imperial territory insignificant?”
To be honest, he was weary of war.
“Due to the excessive battles, the royal treasury is depleted.”
This was excluding the “king’s personal expenses,” of course.
“Isn’t the depletion of the treasury due to your extravagance, Your Majesty?”
Aurelia was well aware of this.
“Please postpone the ‘new royal palace’ you ordered and allocate those funds to the military.”
When the Holy Maiden pointed this out, Charles VII was gripped by one emotion.
Fear.
“──Building a new palace now is nothing but extravagance, as you said, Your Majesty.”
A mere peasant’s daughter, daring to command the king without fear. And all of Britannia supported her.
“How dare you…”
A king, bowing to a peasant’s daughter!
“Such insolence before the king!”
”…Please forgive my rudeness.”
Charles roared, and the Holy Maiden bowed her head and turned away.
“A mere peasant’s daughter dares, dares…”
Charles VII muttered under his breath as he watched her retreating figure, his voice twisted with unbearable humiliation and shame.
Some time later, as the seeds of discord sown by Dale began to sprout.
An imperial envoy arrived in the newly established capital of Britannia, Reims.
It was Dale of Saxony, the supreme commander of the imperial forces.
In a chamber of the royal palace in Britannia’s capital.
It was not the Holy Maiden Aurelia who received the imperial envoy, Dale. King Charles VII of Britannia was there.
Dale had requested a one-on-one conversation with the “supreme leader” of the war.
“Our empire desires peace.”
And at that table, Dale spoke, as if he were the voice of the empire.
“Peace?”
“A way to resolve our conflict without further bloodshed, rationally.”
Dale continued.
“After several defeats, our empire no longer has the capacity to continue this war.”
“Isn’t that proof that the Goddess is watching over our kingdom?”
“Indeed.”
Dale nodded, not denying it.
“It is practically impossible for the empire to threaten Britannia any longer.”
As if admitting defeat was imminent.
“──Therefore, we wish to propose an ‘indefinite ceasefire agreement’ to King Charles.”
“An indefinite ceasefire agreement?”
Not an end to the war.
“Please understand, it’s merely a gesture to maintain the Empire’s dignity.”
Dale smiled reassuringly, as if there was nothing to worry about.
“An indefinite truce agreement, you say…”
Indeed, Dale’s words made sense. By framing it as an indefinite truce, the Empire wouldn’t officially recognize the independence of the Kingdom of Britannia. Yet, as long as the truce continued, Britannia would effectively remain independent in practice.
Charles pondered deeply.
“But there’s one thing that concerns me,” he finally spoke, cautiously.
“The presence of the Holy Maiden Aurelia, I presume,” Dale replied, as if he had anticipated this.
The Holy Maiden Aurelia—she had rallied the soldiers of the fallen nation and become the beacon of their struggle for independence.
“Do you trust her?” Dale asked.
“I am profoundly grateful for the Holy Maiden’s efforts, beyond words,” Charles VII replied confidently. “She is a treasure to our kingdom.”
Charles concealed his true feelings, aware of the weight Aurelia’s presence carried publicly.
“Do you truly believe that?” Dale pressed, his tone cold.
“The only reason you could ascend to the throne, Your Majesty, is because she desired it,” Dale continued, as if reading Charles’s mind.
“What if she no longer desires it?” Dale asked.
“I have unwavering faith in her devotion,” Charles insisted, though Dale remained unfazed by his bluff.
“That’s precisely what I wanted to discuss,” Dale said, pulling something from his coat.
It was a letter, sealed with secrecy.
“What is this?” Charles asked.
“Archbishop Thomas has willingly chosen to become the ‘Champion of the Holy Maiden,’ betraying the White Tower,” Dale explained. Thomas Becket, a high-ranking elder of the White Tower and a seventh-circle white mage, had chosen to join the independence movement for his homeland, Britannia.
“Cardinal Nikolai of the Imperial Army was caught trying to pass this letter to Archbishop Thomas.”
“What?!” Charles exclaimed.
“Please, read it,” Dale urged, handing over the letter. Charles VII took it cautiously.
—… (excerpt) The day when the Goddess’s nation stands tall on the island of Britannia is not far off.
After reading, Charles was left speechless.
“Ah… ah…”
“Indeed,” Dale confirmed.
The doubts that had plagued Charles finally took shape.
“The Holy Maiden’s ultimate goal is not the independence of the Kingdom of Britannia.”
“Surely not…”
“Under the guise of the White Tower’s machinations, she aims to resurrect the theocracy of the Goddess’s nation.”
At last, the scattered pieces in Charles’s mind came together.
“In other words, Archbishop Thomas never truly betrayed the White Tower.”
The reason Thomas, a high-ranking elder of the White Tower, had declared himself the Holy Maiden’s champion.
“Because the White Tower never pledged loyalty to the Empire in the first place.”
Cardinal Nikolai of the White Tower, who had joined the Imperial Army, was in collusion with Archbishop Thomas.
“The victory of the Britannian independence forces is not the ‘Goddess’s victory,’ but rather the result of betrayal within the Imperial Army,” Dale stated.
“Thus, once the Holy Maiden expels the Empire from this land, what follows is clear.”
Charles VII was at a loss for words.
“After the Empire, the next to be expelled by the Holy Maiden will be you, Your Majesty.”
Indeed, Dale was right. The miraculous victories attributed to the Holy Maiden were not solely her doing.
They were made possible by the clandestine efforts of the White Tower, aiming for the resurrection of the theocracy. Only now did Charles understand.
“What do you think, Your Majesty?” Dale asked.
”…”
“Our Empire desires nothing but peace.”
It was a cunning whisper, as sly as a serpent.
“Wouldn’t it be wise for our two nations to join forces for the sake of peace?”
To Charles, whose mind was clouded by doubt and fear, it was an offer he could hardly refuse.