Ranshel had to meet Dotter, register him to the party according to the sub-quest, and send him to the underground dungeon.
To use Frey’s expression, as God wishes.
No one on the continent, including the Saintess who presided over all the rites in the chapel, knew what Ranshel was doing.
Something in this world was intentionally excluding him from the subjugation of the Demon King, but he didn’t mind much. He had plenty of things more important than that.
Thus, those following God’s will left Rima and embarked on a great journey to guide the last remaining agent.
It was a journey with the other agents, excluding the maid serving the Saintess, but since everyone was an acquaintance—as if there were some inside deal—there was nothing particularly new.
However, with the knights protecting them, the expedition took on a fairly respectable form.
Retracing the path back from the capital made him think of the time they had left Pomel Castle for Rima.
Back then, Zavad was much smaller and younger.
Although his birth was noble, he personally had nothing, so he had to rely on the family’s power by using the name of the Duke he loathed.
But now, he was a leader commanding the Imperial Knights and a knight of the Empire with immense fame.
That wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Back then, they would simply sit in the same space in the carriage without even their fingertips touching, but now they sat close together, kissing.
The young ones who used to snap at each other and shared roasted rabbit meat when everyone else was asleep had now become a pair who, inside the barracks set up to avoid the cold, squeezed into the same sleeping bag and fell asleep with their bodies pressed together.
Unlike the inner rooms blocked by walls, they couldn’t do much inside a tent where a single sheet of cloth barely blocked the wind.
One must not cause a stir within the expedition by revealing a strange atmosphere during a holy journey to fulfill an oracle.
Nevertheless, it was impossible to live as if they were complete strangers.
The moment they opened their eyes, they always wanted to touch and yearned to be together.
After a difficult agreement, they chose to sleep with their backs to each other.
Because it was obvious that if they saw each other’s faces, their firm resolve would melt away and they would crave one another.
Instead, they expressed their affection through their whole bodies, subtly hooking their legs together and entwining their fingers.
Zavad acted like a man who would die if separated from Ranshel for even a moment, and Ranshel, welcoming his restraint, would rub his lips against Zavad’s skin whenever they were away from the eyes of others.
Funnily enough, it was enjoyable, as if they had become lovers in a secret relationship.
When night came, he felt a little sad even while being happy.
Such a lovely person was keeping him by his side as if they were one body.
It wasn’t just Zavad who felt like he would die if separated.
Even so, the horses had to run and the carriage had to move.
Because that was sad, Ranshel closed his eyes as they filled with tears.
Thinking that he wished time would stop just like this.
The Saintess’s oracle spread rapidly across the continent, from one end to the other.
The expedition, marching forward with flags fluttering with the Temple’s crest, was welcomed wherever they went—but that was not the case at their final destination.
“Welcome.”
Pomel Castle opened its gates to receive the expedition as soon as they arrived, but the master of the castle, Duke Pomel, was nowhere to be seen, using illness as an excuse.
The Duke’s third wife, Laruca, was the same.
In place of the absent masters, the butler and the head footman greeted the guests with a purely obligatory attitude.
One could not feel even a shred of a sense of mission to support the expedition following God’s will.
Despite the fact that it was the day the family’s second son returned for the first time in years, the doors to the banquet hall remained firmly closed.
The prepared food was plentiful, but it was merely the minimum level of hospitality a nameless noble might receive when visiting without an invitation.
Everyone in the expedition felt Duke Pomel’s behavior was extremely rude, but because the son of the Pomel house was among them, they finished their meal quickly and headed to their rooms one by one without voicing their complaints.
Zavad remained in his seat until the end, barely touching his plate, before slowly rising after everyone else had left.
Ranshel tilted his head in confusion, noticing a somewhat satisfied smile lingering on Zavad’s face.
“You look like you’re in a good mood…?”
“Mm, it’s not so bad.”
“Well, I feel bad….”
Ranshel muttered with a pout.
No matter what his hidden intentions were, the Duke could not treat an expedition on a holy mission like this.
It was an act equivalent to throwing ink in the face of Zavad, who had led them here.
However, seeing the dejected Ranshel, Zavad’s smile deepened as he gently patted his slumped shoulders.
“The knights in the expedition will remember today clearly and spread the word like gospel. Some might even seethe with rage, saying Duke Pomel mocked those following God’s will. Either way, it’s a gain for me. The possibility of the Temple withdrawing their support for me becomes even lower.”
In other words, the worse the Duke behaved toward the Temple, the more the elders leading the monastic orders would support Zavad—who was in opposition to the Duke—over the eldest son, Stein. Ranshel was impressed by his rational attitude.
Despite how unpleasant the situation was, Zavad was coolly thinking only of how to turn it to his advantage.
‘Where did a guy like this come from?’
Ranshel wanted to hug him, but hearing footsteps from down the corridor, he curled his fingertips and held back.
However, the person they encountered in the dimly lit hallway was the very man who claimed to be so unwell—Duke Pomel.
He moved with a perfectly fine stride and stopped a few paces away.
“You still look just like your mother.”
His voice carried no particular emotion at first, but his gray eyes reflected a clear intent of contempt, which he made no effort to hide.
“I regret that I do not take after my father.”
“Well, is there a father here? I wouldn’t know. There must be more than one or two men you could call father. She was a woman with hips lighter than a goose.”
An uncontrollable smirk broke across Zavad’s lips.
“I pay my respects to the effort you’ve made to travel all this way tonight just to insult a mother who left you and passed away long ago.”
“……You arrogant brat.”
“Yes, as I wish to live up to the title you gave me, I ask for your understanding as I take my leave first.”
Zavad laughed nonchalantly and brushed past the shoulder of the stiffly standing Duke Pomel.
Ranshel caught a glimpse of the Duke staggering as if pushed by Zavad’s strength before barely regaining his balance, and he followed behind, treading on Zavad’s shadow.
As soon as the bedroom door closed, Zavad spat out an annoyed curse.
“That old fox should have just stayed cooped up quietly….”
Ranshel watched his angry back and began to fill the tub with the warm water brought by the maids.
Zavad, who had been wearing eyes full of murderous intent, instantly softened his aura as he watched Ranshel busily moving about.
“…It’s still time for the maids to work.”
Ranshel whispered, pushing away the forearms wrapping around his waist.
At this moment, their status was closer to that of guests visiting this castle.
Even if the task of bathing was left to a personal servant, there were bound to be others waiting nearby to clear the tub and tidy the room.
“Please sit down. I will wash you.”
“…Why not just torture me instead?”
