Inside and outside the temple, a large crowd had gathered. Citizens convened to celebrate the empire’s victory, while knights and nobles lined up to attend the triumphant ceremony. Although the purpose of those gathered here was ostensibly to honor the peaceful days ahead and glorify the empire’s reputation, the true intent of many could be summarized as follows:
“Let’s finally see the face of the famed captain of the paladins!”
The commoners craned their necks to witness the grandeur of the sword master who had slain tens of thousands of demons. Meanwhile, the nobles were eager to glimpse the beauty of Heliod, whose looks had been widely praised in gossip columns. Having been absent from both the victory banquet and the memorial service, Heliod’s mystery had only heightened their curiosity.
And finally, when Heliod stepped forward at the emperor’s summons…
“W-what the…”
Emeralda, the second daughter of Count Laia, let out an unladylike exclamation, her face flushing red. It was no wonder—young or old, everyone present found themselves captivated by this elegant, noble, and saintly man. His pristine white hair was neatly tied back, yet it flowed gracefully in the breeze, complementing the flutter of the paladin’s mantle draped over his shoulders. Beneath it, his white ceremonial uniform clung to his broad chest, drawing wide-eyed admiration from most of the young noblewomen, who fanned themselves nervously.
But the admiration for his beauty was fleeting.
“…Therefore, to honor and bless Heliod Vus, the greatest contributor to the war against the demons and the captain of the Seisior Paladins…”
The emperor’s gaze turned toward the temple as he continued.
“…I hereby bestow upon him the title of baron.”
For a moment, the emperor’s surprising announcement seemed to freeze the world. Then, a thunderous roar of cheers and applause erupted. The jubilation was from the commoners who had long hoped for Heliod to receive a noble title. However, amidst the thunderous cheers, the nobles’ reactions were mixed. Those loyal to the emperor, including Heliod’s father, murmured in visible dismay, unable to hide their surprise. The aristocratic faction was equally unsettled, their confusion evident.
Amidst the deafening cheers, Heliod lowered his gaze and silently awaited the end of the triumphal ceremony.
“The emperor made a move no one anticipated.”
Even Mother, who rarely displayed emotion, furrowed her brow and fanned herself lightly. I tore my gaze away from Heliod and asked her, “You didn’t expect this either?”
“I wouldn’t have thought that an inflexible old man, incapable of discerning what benefits him and what doesn’t, would make such a decision.”
Mother’s biting comment snapped me back to reality. Wasn’t she worried about being overheard? Nervously glancing around, I saw her smirk as she narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t fret. No one would dare say anything to me.”
“Still, be careful. I don’t want Father’s head to roll.”
“This much is fine.”
She had just called the emperor an inflexible old man—how could that possibly be fine? Sighing, I pressed on with the topic that had been bothering me.
“More importantly, what did you mean by ‘beneficial’? Was granting the knight a title a wise choice for His Majesty?”
“In a sense, yes. Sir Vus may be the captain of the paladins, but he’s still a commoner. If the emperor failed to reward him appropriately for his achievements, it would damage public morale and support.”
“But hasn’t His Majesty been wary of the temple for years now? Granting a title to Sir Heliod might embolden the temple’s influence.”
“That’s true. However…”
A crowd had gathered both inside and outside the temple. The emperor had delivered a surprising reward: a barony bestowed upon Heliod Vus, captain of the Seisior Paladins. The cheers of the commoners were deafening, celebrating the recognition of the man who had slain tens of thousands of demons. However, my mother, seated beside me, seemed less impressed.
After some thought, she narrowed her eyes toward the temple. “There’s another way to look at this. Perhaps the emperor is laying the groundwork to draw the temple into his fold.”
“What?” I was baffled. Could granting a title to a knight really be enough to influence the temple? Especially with the High Priest standing firm at its helm?
Even though the High Priest doted on Heliod like a son, political factions often caused rifts even between real families. A barony alone couldn’t shift the temple’s allegiance to the emperor. Besides, Heliod was thoroughly loyal to the High Priest. A mere title wouldn’t make him switch sides.
Seeing my confusion, Mother clicked her tongue. “You must take after your father to be this dense.”
“Must be,” I muttered, pouting. She sighed and explained in a low, detached voice.
“The High Priest has managed the temple for years, and Sir Vus is his favorite—a captain who has monopolized the priest’s affection and trust. Within a few years, the temple’s influence will likely pass entirely to Sir Vus.”
“I know that much. But that doesn’t mean Sir Heliod would pledge loyalty to the emperor.”
Heliod had sworn his life to serve the gods and the temple. His unwavering devotion was clear from his strict adherence to his vows, including his purity oath. Mother nodded slightly, acknowledging this.
“True enough. But think bigger, Luisha. How many children are there among the emperor’s loyalist noble families?”
I tilted my head, caught off guard by the shift in topic. “Um, let’s see… the sisters from Count Laia’s family, Lady Isolin of Viscount Solp, and the twin daughters of Viscount Kirion. Are there more?”
“You and your friend from the Jedediah family count as well.”
“Oh, right. But why does that matter?”
“How many of these noble daughters remain unmarried?”
Her question hit me like a brick. The situation with noble heirs had been a hot topic recently. Except for the Jedediah family, the loyalist houses were struggling to secure successors. Viscount Solp, a devoted family man who refused to adopt, had named Lady Isolin his heir. Meanwhile, Count Laia and Viscount Kirion had resolved to adopt or bring in a son-in-law to carry on their line.
My eyes widened in realization, and I looked at Mother with trembling disbelief.
“Luisha, have you forgotten? I, too, once gave up the empire for love,” she teased, folding her fan with a mischievous smile.
“The emperor plans to bring Sir Vus into his circle through marriage.”
“Marriage? For Sir Heliod?” My jaw dropped.
Not far away, a steward unrolled a long parchment and began announcing the rewards bestowed upon Heliod. “In recognition of Baron Vus’s efforts, His Majesty has granted the following: seventy-two chests of jewels, thirty-two chests of pure gold, a northern iron mine…”
“Oh dear,” Mother murmured, glancing toward the aristocrats seated across from us. “Now there will be noble ladies seeking him out for wealth as well.”
“This can’t be happening…”
Stay strong, Luisha. Mother cast a sidelong glance at me, her tone consoling, but her words barely registered.
“Marriage? For Sir Heliod? And with a noble lady?”
The emperor must think it trivial to lure in an innocent paladin. But Heliod wouldn’t fall for such schemes—or so I thought.
Sir Heliod… my knight…
Oh no. Heliod really *was* innocent.
I, Luisha Arpen, felt the chill of realization as I watched a swarm of noble flies closing in on my knight.
❖ ❖ ❖
Heliod strode briskly through the temple corridors, his expression rigid. He tucked his cumbersome, ornate cape under his arm and undid a few of the top buttons of his uniform, his breaths sharp and uneven.
As he turned a corner—
“Oh my!”
Someone bumped into his chest. Instinctively, Heliod’s gaze darted downward, expecting to see the familiar pink hair of Luisha. But instead, a cascade of red locks caught his eye.
“I… I’m so sorry,” the young woman stammered.
“It’s quite all right,” Heliod replied.
The woman blushed prettily, her cheeks glowing with shy embarrassment. Heliod frowned slightly, searching his memory. It was Ruby, the eldest daughter of Count Laia. Thanks to Keron’s insistence that he memorize the names and faces of the nobility, Heliod quickly recognized her. He inclined his head politely.
“My apologies for not watching where I was going. Are you hurt, Lady Ruby?”
“Oh my, you know my name?” Ruby’s voice was honeyed, and she batted her lashes. Heliod, sensing an odd shift in the atmosphere, stepped back slightly.
“I’m fine, but… my ankle feels a little sore,” she murmured, twisting her body as if in discomfort.
Heliod hesitated. How could her ankle be injured when she hadn’t fallen? Nevertheless, his sense of duty as a knight compelled him to offer assistance.
“My apologies once more. Allow me to escort you to a priest,” he said earnestly.
“It’s nothing that serious,” Ruby replied, her tone coy as she clasped her cheeks and swayed slightly. “But if it’s not too much trouble, could you help me to my carriage instead?”
Heliod’s sharp instincts told him her ankle was perfectly fine—her exaggerated movements suggested as much. Still, he nodded silently and extended his arm, offering her support.
“Allow me to escort you outside.”
“Thank you, Sir—oh, I mean, Baron Vus,” Ruby said with a tinkling laugh, leaning closely into him.
Unused to having anyone but Luisha at his side, Heliod stiffened awkwardly, his brows drawing together. Ruby, however, seemed to mistake his discomfort for bashful affection and nestled closer, clinging to his arm like a duckling to its mother. Heliod clenched his jaw, trying his best not to scowl as they walked.
Before he could voice his growing unease, another figure stumbled into their path.
“Kyaa!”
Lady Isolin, daughter of Viscount Solp, fainted near their feet. Heliod’s reflexes as a sword master kicked in, and he caught her just before she hit the ground. Isolin trembled delicately in his arms, fluttering her eyelashes as she spoke weakly.
“I haven’t been feeling well lately… Thank you, Baron Vus.”
“You should summon an attendant to bring a priest,” Heliod suggested calmly, but before he could finish—
“My ankle!” Ruby cried, tears welling in her eyes as she clutched at her leg.
Heliod turned, flustered, only for Isolin to tug on his collar. “Ah, Baron! My head… it hurts!”
“My ankle!”
“My head!”
“My ankle!”
“My head!”
The absurdity of the situation struck Heliod, leaving him momentarily frozen. Caught in a dilemma, he quickly flagged down a passing attendant and sent both ladies off to see a priest. Then, with an uncharacteristic urgency, he escaped down the corridor. His mind spun, struggling to process what had just happened.
For the first time in his life, Heliod felt completely out of his depth. Yet the world seemed determined to mock him further. What he had just experienced was only the beginning—a mere prelude to the chaos awaiting him.
Thus began the battle for Heliod Vus, a competition more relentless and bewildering than any war he had ever fought.
