Kyrie’s Twin-Thunder Palace had been created for two people from the very beginning.

The red towers on the left and right, reminiscent of a two-headed serpent, had once been used by two ferocious adopted heirs. Now, they were occupied by a war hero and a war criminal.

That said, if one limited the targets of that ferocity to those at or above adopted-heir–level Blue Knights, then that war hero might well have been even more brutal than the palace’s former master.

Knock, knock.

The highest floor of the left tower.

A knocking sound echoed.

“May I come in?”

“Yes. You may enter.”

Erica of Rikentrion Rikenta answered.

A woman with sunlight-blond hair and green eyes like a tropical sea.

Creeeak.

“We should be leaving soon. Are you ready?”

Kyrie of Astrion Astreos stepped into the room.

Four of Erica’s maids bowed their heads lightly in greeting.

“I only need to put this on.”

Erica waved a headscarf made of glossy, pure-white eastern silk.

Unlike usual, she was dressed in a completely white gown.

No trailing layers flowing behind her legs—just a simple design that clung close to the body, faintly revealing her silhouette.

Unlike the restrained practicality Andromeda had displayed at the recent ball, this was simplicity taken to a truly low-status form.

Of course, Erica was of the direct line of a great house.

Given her status, the fabric and lace were more expensive than a noble’s wedding dress, but today, the key was not the material.

It was the color.

Pure white.

The immaculate bride.

Or the garment of a sinner standing before the court.

“You really did it.”

Standing before the full-length mirror, Erica wrapped the headscarf around her own head.

Since she stood before Kyrie, she did not borrow the maids’ hands this time.

For a defeated captive to receive another’s service before the victor violated noble etiquette.

“Yes. I did.”

“You brought down that powerful Senior Adopted Heir.”

“Bringing him down doesn’t mean the seat becomes mine automatically. It’s only the beginning.”

“By turning me into a sinner, you mean?”

“The blade wielded by a sinner. You can’t say there’s no crime, but pressing charges outright would look pathetic. If they pressed even the existing guilt too hard, it would seem like they were venting frustration because they couldn’t catch the real culprit.”

“My life now rests in your hands.”

Erica tried twice to tie the headscarf, and failed.

“Could you tie it for me? I’m not used to clothing like this.”

She turned and held the headscarf out toward Kyrie.

Rules about unrelated men did not apply right now.

“I’m good at tying things behind the head. Eyepatches, for example.”

With a faintly self-mocking joke, Kyrie stepped behind her.

He covered her blond hair with the white scarf and bound it firmly down to the nape of her neck.

“It’s a dreadful sense of confinement.”

“It’s surprisingly irritating.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way.”

“I went through the academy too.”

Erica closed her eyes gently, then leaned back as if resting against him.

Kyrie did not urge her on.

For a navigator of Rikenta, as free as the wind, confinement carried an intensely double meaning.

Something absolutely intolerable.

Or something that, despite being intolerable, one nonetheless accepted.

Erica did not open her heart because of Kyrie’s gentlemanly treatment.

Nor did Kyrie feel absurd pity or base possessiveness toward the leader of an invading force.

Yet in some ways, what bound them was far more radical than either.

“Let’s go. Like lightning, forever. So it remains in everyone’s memory.”

“Yes. Let’s go as far as we can.”

Comradeship.

A bond between those who aimed for the summit of their respective worlds—a princess exiled from her kingdom, and a bastard who did not even know his parents.

The Grand Cathedral.

“…The uncle who currently styles himself as the head of the Rikenta family, Ortopios, made use of mutated beasts—”

Standing before the court, Erica continued her testimony regarding her uncle’s war crimes.

“…He ordered an illegal invasion of House Astreos without a declaration of war, and the grave apostasy of using mutated beasts in warfare—”

The core of the testimony, in which truth and falsehood were artfully interwoven, was as follows.

First. Uncle Ortopios procured mutated beasts.

Second. Uncle Ortopios used the power of mutated beasts to drive out the legitimate heir—herself.

Third. By her uncle’s command, she had no choice but to become the vanguard of the invasion of Astreos.

This testimony was substantiated through cross-verification with the other navigators Kyrie had brought, as well as letters Erica possessed.

Of course, both the navigators’ testimony and Erica’s letters had been created only days earlier.

“I never imagined such vile crimes were being committed within the Rikenta family, blessed by the Free Storm Citadel. How can those who inherited contracts with the six famed Stellar Seats through blood commit such a grievous sin!”

It did not matter.

“…Under the night sky, none stand higher than the stars. Beneath Manseong, all are equal. Even the direct blood of a great house cannot be an exception. I, Deimos, Archbishop of Astrion, the lowly servant beneath the night sky, hereby excommunicate Ortopios of Rikentrion Rikenta in the name of Manseong.”

Archbishop Deimos, the presiding judge, had himself concluded a long private audience with Kyrie only days earlier.

“Erica of Rikentrion Rikenta. Though you acted to preserve your own life and the lives of your retainers, the sin of aiding grave crimes cannot be erased.”

“The sinner humbly accepts punishment.”

“Ordinarily, you would be sent to a cloistered convent after confinement in the capital, but given the likelihood of major conflict between great houses, we cannot allow a critical witness to depart the secular world lightly.”

“Whatever decision you render, I will accept it.”

“Therefore, this archbishop declares the sentence of the defendant, Erica of Rikentrion Rikenta, to be suspended—until the true great sinner, Ortopios, stands before the court of Manseong.”

Kyrie and Andromeda sat alone on the upper level of the hall, looking down upon the scene.

“One step forward.”

“Matters between great houses really are… long.”

“When rebellion rises within our own house, it ends within three months at most. But when another house gets involved, even the shortest case takes three years. That’s how it is.”

And so, one grand play came to an end.

“His Eminence the Archbishop awaits you.”

A deacon approached and bowed.

Kyrie and Andromeda rose from their seats.

It was time to return to reality.

The trial concluded.

“Execute the Witch of Rikenta!”

“Long live Sir Kyrie! Long live the Lightning Blade!”

“Long live Imperator Kyrie! Long live Lady Andromeda!”

The gathered crowd roared.

Clatter, clatter.

Through a window, Erica could be seen boarding an old carriage and leaving through the Grand Cathedral’s rear gate.

After circling Astrion roughly halfway, she would transfer to another carriage and return to the Twin-Thunder Palace.

“…It seems this old man’s eloquence has not yet dulled.”

“Your Eminence, the rising morning star among archbishops, Saint Deimos—what false modesty is this? We are only grateful that you have made real the idle talk of a lacking young lady and my younger brother.”

I watched that scene briefly, then returned to reality.

Now, Andromeda and I were deep within the Grand Cathedral’s inner chambers.

From corridor to room, everything was covered in golden wallpaper and adorned with crystal chandeliers shaped like star charts—it seemed even more splendid than the Astrion Main Fortress.

A memory of gazing up at this place from the red-light district long ago threatened to surface, and I forcibly suppressed it.

“…Only now do I dare speak this, but I offer my deepest apology on behalf of the Manseong Church for doubting the Sub-patriarch, the future of your house, after listening to the glib and cunning words of a young man. Your wise and peerlessly brave younger brother enlightened this low and foolish servant.”

Andromeda and Archbishop Deimos exchanged words.

Archbishop Deimos looked delighted.

Though the house had changed, he had fulfilled every clergyman’s dream—placing a direct-line member of a great house before the court. How could he not be?

“Hmhm. Indeed, my younger brother is wise, peerlessly brave, and undeniably handsome. Even one as low and foolish as yourself would surely be enlightened. And if not—well, a bolt of lightning to the head would suffice. How could enlightenment fail to follow?”

“Pardon?”

Andromeda said something strange.

Relief bloomed across the archbishop’s kindly, wrinkled face—then flipped completely upside down.

The strange part came in the middle.

The terrifying part came at the end.

“…And yet, how could one seeking rebirth through Manseong’s wisdom turn away from sin? Though I believed myself sufficiently learned, I was still deceived—therefore my guilt is all the heavier.”

The six great houses transcended mortals through blood-bound contracts.

The Manseong Church transcended mortals through blessings gained by learning and service.

An archbishop who stood at the forefront of those acquired superhumans could not afford to be deceived.

“Atonement and reflection surpass punishment. What atonement does the Sub-patriarch desire? This lowest servant of Manseong prostrates himself and dares to ask.”

The archbishop hurriedly changed his attitude.

“First, I would have the truth of this incident proclaimed widely through sermons.”

Andromeda smiled, as if she had been waiting for this.

It was the smile of a conqueror who did not bother hiding her intent.

“Yes. We shall obey.”

It meant using church sermons to declare what crimes Traysan had committed, and what crimes Ortopios had committed.

Naturally, my name and Andromeda’s would be spoken as well.

“And furthermore, I wish to be completely cleared of the false charges that cunning youth laid upon me. I request the consecration of the new elixirs.”

Oh.

That one even I had not anticipated.

The Elixir of Sacred Light.

The Elixir of the Nebula.

Divine medicines created from luminous fluid extracted from mutated beasts.

Because they were drawn from mutated beasts, prejudice was natural—but the elixirs themselves had no inherent flaw.

Andromeda wanted that officially guaranteed.

“Consecration is no simple matter. It requires detailed verification of the manufacturing process and observation of the condition of actual users.”

The archbishop seemed to step back—then looked at me.

“I understand that Sir Kyrie has already consumed those elixirs several times. If you would testify in court, and drink the elixir before the eyes of Manseong’s servants, we shall humbly consecrate it.”

Why drag me into this?

I nearly snapped back—but stopped.

If the political winds shifted again, it would be unbearably awkward for an archbishop.

He, too, wanted to protect his position.

No matter what, being acknowledged by a church archbishop as a Blue Knight of a great house is a good thing. The church participates in the Elector Council as well.

I reached my conclusion quickly.

“I thank Your Eminence for your judgment. We shall verify it so clearly that not a single stain may be found.”

This, too, was part of “laying the groundwork,” just as the Stellar Seat had said.

The next stage of the Hero’s Journey would likely take me beyond the house itself.

Rumors spread like wildfire.

“Have you heard? The Rikenta family invaded Astreos using mutated beasts.”

They spread beyond Astreos, reaching the royal domain, the north, and the west.

“Using mutated beasts? Creating and controlling them with mana-tainted drugs?”

“I hear the Archbishop of Astrion has already excommunicated the Rikenta patriarch.”

“The Rikenta patriarch was never fit to inherit in the first place—he used mutated beasts to drive out his elder brother and even tried to kill his brother’s daughter—”

“Isn’t this something the Elector Council should investigate?”

Ortopios, the uncle who ousted Erica and seized the patriarch’s seat.

Ulysses, the cousin who took Erica’s rightful position.

The two went mad with fury.

“Kyrie?”

“That Astreos bastard dares!”

“I’ll kill him. Muster the army!”

That much, Kyrie had expected.

There were things he had not expected.

“So he really pulled it off in the end. We can carve out quite a bit of territory and profit from the Rikenta family.”

“Where exactly was that ebony forest on the border? We should invest immediately. Or seize it outright.”

“In the end… he truly was worthy of becoming an adopted heir. No—our younger brother.”

The adopted heirs’ attitudes flipped one hundred and eighty degrees.

Chapter 133

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