When the Inquisitor interrogating Allen reappeared in the monitoring room, his face was ashen, filled with shame.
“Your Excellency, Archbishop, I have disappointed you.”
Archbishop Lucien, seeing that he still harbored remorse, sternly admonished him: “You were far too arrogant today. True heresy is not so easily dealt with. Do not apply your usual experience to matters far more complex.”
“I will heed your teachings, Your Excellency. I will reflect deeply and not repeat the same mistakes!”
The Archbishop’s gaze shifted to the Inquisitor responsible for interrogating Marianne.
“How is the situation on your end?”
“It’s progressing smoothly. Marianne Durand soon cracked under pressure and confessed she had attempted to murder Allen de Laval. Of course, she also confirmed that Allen’s personality changed drastically after he was rescued from drowning and that he claimed to have received divine revelation.”
“That afternoon, he secretly sent the steward to the tribunal, warning that cultists would attack the Laval family and requesting the Church’s protection. For that, he even disclosed the location of a heretic base.”
The Archbishop frowned slightly.
“So, you didn’t take this intelligence seriously at the time?”
The Inquisitor bowed his head in shame, filled with self-reproach.
“We all thought it was just the noble young master’s hysteria…But just in case, we sent a standard reconnaissance team to the Slaughterhouse Underground. Before reinforcements arrived, they were ambushed by heretics…all perished.”
A heavy atmosphere of mourning filled the monitoring room.
“Remember this lesson—those sacrifices could have been avoided.” Lucien closed his eyes. “Any other doubts?”
“She bears no Fake Mark Knight traces and showed no reaction to the heretic test slogans. We preliminarily judge her unaware. But…”
The Inquisitor pulled up some shocking injury images, “she carries old scars of long-term abuse, inflicted by none other than Allen de Laval himself. Her motive and attempt to murder her Lord are true. Strangely, she says Allen knew about her failed assassination attempt but chose to forgive her and even compensated her. Out of guilt, she stayed by Allen’s side seeking ‘atonement.’”
“Crimes committed by nobles are common,” the Archbishop said flatly, though his eyes were sharp as an eagle.
“Her awakening to this is commendable, but ceasing the crime doesn’t mean she escapes responsibility. As for Allen’s ‘forgiveness’… that is highly abnormal. It must be a divine miracle or…”
Lucien’s tone shifted.
“Has Allen de Laval been in contact with anyone else?”
“He had no contact with anyone during his coma. We also investigated his prior network—he theoretically couldn’t have known the heretics’ intelligence.”
“If he is innocent, then it’s his maid who is suspicious. His hardline stance might be deliberately drawing fire to protect the maid who may be passing him information.”
The seasoned Inquisitor’s intuition was razor-sharp.
Marianne’s background of abuse and her proximity to the noble perfectly fit the heretics’ recruitment profile.
Suspicion seemed to shift.
Yet Archbishop Lucien’s gloom remained undiminished.
If Allen were truly innocent, why would he protect his maid?
If Marianne were a heretic leaking information to Allen, what benefit would she gain?
Neither had any reason to willingly risk themselves, especially given their deep mutual hatred.
How could this be explained?
“This doesn’t feel right…”
The Archbishop, realizing the truth might be more complicated than he thought, began pacing the monitoring room.
Other doubts gradually surfaced.
Allen de Laval himself was the greatest anomaly.
Lucien, busy with countless matters, had no time for noble gossip.
Yet even he had heard of Allen de Laval’s notorious reputation as a reckless noble brat.
Lucien pondered for a moment and asked, “You all know Allen de Laval, right?”
Everyone nodded.
“He is merely the son of a viscount, engaged in typical bratty mischief. But his ‘notoriety’ spreads throughout the Capital far beyond what his status and deeds should warrant. As if…someone is deliberately publicizing it.”
Indeed, something was clearly off.
A deeper chill silently crept down the spines of everyone present.
An unseen hand?
A calculated smear?
This pool was deeper and murkier than they imagined.
“Also…I heard Allen de Laval has a fiancée? What is the current status of the Laval family? What background does his fiancée have?”
The Master Inquisitor in charge of background investigations immediately responded: “Yes, he has a fiancée. She even came to the tribunal two days ago trying to visit him but was denied.”
The Master Inquisitor, having thoroughly memorized the findings, detailed the situation to Archbishop Lucien.
“The Laval family’s ancestors were adventurers who amassed rare treasures worldwide, earning their first fortune from nobles. Then they became merchants for generations. By the time of his father, Bernard de Laval, they had become famous construction contractors in the Capital. Bernard, through connections and wealth, rose to the rank of robe-wearing noble.”
“The Laval family was once extremely wealthy but now is on the brink of bankruptcy. Rumor has it that Crown Prince Charlie Durand is involved. Due to the ancient Holy Covenant, we cannot interfere in internal royal affairs, so the truth of their financial ruin remains unknown.”
“Allen de Laval’s fiancée is Livia von Stern. She is the illegitimate daughter of Friedrich von Stern, the Border Count.”
Archbishop Lucien frowned.
“Friedrich von Stern…a typical Imperial name. The Border Count is Imperial?”
The Master Inquisitor nodded.
“Correct. The Border Count’s domain lies in the Wallonia Corridor—the long-contested buffer between the Empire and the Kingdom. The royal family successfully wooed him, turning his lands into the Kingdom’s first line of defense against Imperial invasion. For this, the crown retained the Imperial title and granted him the Border Count’s rank, a very prestigious position.”
“However, although the Border Count speaks Lorraine language and culturally aligns with the Kingdom, the Stern family is still considered outsiders. Nobles in the Capital look down on them.”
“The Border Count’s family recently arrived in the Capital, weak and isolated. To find an ally who has long cultivated ties here yet poses no threat and can be discarded anytime, they sought out the Laval family.”
Lucien mused, “Since Livia von Stern is illegitimate, why arrange this marriage? It should be an insult to the nobles, no?”
“The Border Count requested a royal patent to legitimize Livia’s inheritance,” the Master Inquisitor spoke faster.
“The Stern family’s emblem is the ‘Star Emblem,’ a powerful and rare crest. Their crest bloodline is extremely diluted and produces little power, but Livia’s Star Emblem might be stronger than her ancestors’.”
“The crown likely courted the Border Count not just for strategic reasons but for Livia’s abilities. Years ago, a Crest Scholar from Saint Norra Emblem Academy, while conducting research in the Border Count’s lands, unexpectedly discovered Livia living in seclusion with her mother.”
“It’s said she fully adapted to her emblem’s power by age seven—a rarity in the Kingdom’s thousand-year history. That professor immediately sent a letter to the king about this astonishing discovery.”
“Of course, legitimized illegitimate children remain despised in noble circles. The Border Count’s wife—Livia’s legal mother—is from a prominent Imperial ducal family. She personally arranged this marriage, likely to protect her biological children’s inheritance rights.”
“A Star Emblem prodigy of a millennium…Imperial background…”
Archbishop Lucien’s fingers tapped the table with a dull thud, each strike echoing the tension in the room.
“The Empire’s ‘colleagues’ have been silent for too long. When was the last time we sat together to discuss humanity’s future?”
“Your Excellency, the last grand council was held two hundred and forty-one years ago.”
“Is it still coincidence that so many ‘accidents’ cluster around the Laval family?”
The Archbishop’s steel-blue eyes swept over the monitoring screen showing Allen engrossed in reading the Scripture, seemingly unaware of the looming darkness, and then to the interrogation room where Marianne hung her head low, finally settling on the void.
Before leaving, Allen had requested a Scripture from the Inquisitor.
“Though the Lord has given me revelation, I only understand Him partially. Please give me a Scripture; I want to truly know the Lord again. Reading the classics is good for me and for you.”
Allen’s words mocked the Inquisitors’ shaky faith, nearly making them lose their temper, but in the end, he was given a Scripture.
Whether he was a heretic could be judged by how he read it.
For now, Allen appeared genuinely interested in the Scripture, even proactively asking the guards complex religious questions.
Allen de Laval had no ties to the Church but was trying to connect with it.
What was his purpose?
From the tangled threads behind the Laval family’s attack, Archbishop Lucien vaguely sensed an unspeakable presence.
All clues and anomalies converged on this notorious noble brat, Allen de Laval.
Who was he, really?
Was the Allen who woke from that drowning-induced coma truly the same person?
Knowing the Church’s darkest secrets, Lucien could not ignore the doubts surrounding Allen.
His existence was an extremely dangerous omen to both the Church and humanity.
Closing his eyes, Lucien seemed to hear the doomsday clock ticking.
Before the midnight bell of human destruction tolls, he must act!
Lucien swiftly issued orders: “From now on, the Inquisition’s operations will undergo significant adjustments. Reallocate manpower and raise the surveillance level on Allen de Laval, Livia von Stern, and Marianne Durand to the highest.”
“And…return that master and servant to their place.”
“Ah?”
Everyone was stunned by the Archbishop’s decisive command.
The Laval family attack was riddled with mysteries.
Allen de Laval, despite his alcohol-ravaged, reckless body, not only killed the assassin but also defeated a powerful, bloodthirsty Fake Mark Knight.
Handling such enemies usually requires a special combat squad from the Inquisition.
Allen, lacking any emblem, fought the Fake Mark Knight one-on-one and was only drained by the emblem’s power, suffering no fatal wounds.
What did this mean?
In this era, Crestbearers’ combat power was comparable to modern main battle tanks, effortlessly slaughtering ordinary medieval armies!
The only match for Crestbearers was another Crestbearer.
Noble Swordsmen held their exalted status solely because they wielded the world’s most crucial power!
Allen defeating a Fake Mark Knight as a non-Crestbearer was like cavalry taking on a tank—and even managing to damage the tank.
This was world-shaking.
Even the Inquisition chose to keep this secret.
In their eyes, Allen was very likely possessed by an evil entity. Otherwise, how to explain his power?
He was a hundred times scarier than the heretic threat!
Yet Archbishop Lucien intended to send the master and servant back, essentially releasing a tiger back into the wild.
“Your Excellency…what is the meaning behind this?” the Master Inquisitor voiced the others’ confusion.
“This matter is too deep. Deep enough to drown the Kingdom and perhaps…all humanity.”
The Archbishop’s voice grew heavy, weighed down by the horrifying truth he had uncovered.
“I fear all of us, including them, are mere puppets manipulated by invisible forces.”
Silence fell over the monitoring room, broken only by the faint hum of machinery.
An invisible pressure choked everyone’s throat.
“Your Excellency, do you mean…”
The Master Inquisitor’s voice was dry.
Lucien’s gaze swept over them.
Under the cold light, his figure looked unusually tall yet weary.
He took a deep breath, as if drawing the unbearable weight of human history into his chest and transforming it into strength.
“Brothers,” his voice carried the solemnity of an apocalyptic judgment, “I fear this cycle we face is the ‘Last Age of Darkness’ foretold in the Scripture.”
“Last Age of Darkness?!”
Several Inquisitors exclaimed, their faces turning pale.
Lucien’s gaze pierced through walls, as if seeing the distant Holy Land, his voice cold and metallic: “I have top-secret intelligence from the Holy Land. Its thirty-year confidentiality period has passed, and the time is ripe for me to share it.”
The Inquisitors exchanged wary looks.
The Inquisition’s secrecy level was already the highest in the Church, but the Holy Land was above that.
Even these Inquisitors, raised by and loyal to the Church, were not authorized to know the Holy Land’s exact location.
To them, this intelligence was a hot potato—neither easy to hear nor ignore.
“Your Excellency, though we are inner circle members, our ranks require procedures even for such secrets after the confidentiality period. So perhaps you should consider—”
“Today, you may forget the procedures.”
Lucien’s calm words made the Inquisitors’ pupils constrict.
This elder before them was the Church’s de facto highest leader.
In a way, he represented the Lord’s will.
When an Archbishop who values rules so highly says “forget the procedures,” it usually means the Church faces an unsolvable, enormous crisis.
Knowing the gravity, none dared refuse.
“Your Excellency, please share the intelligence. We are willing to bear this burden with you!”
“We have utterly lost the ability to maintain the Holy Land.”
“What!”
The Archbishop’s brief statement struck like thunder, instantly stirring the Inquisitors into uproar.
“If this intelligence dates back thirty years…then now…”
The Archbishop nodded, his words heavy as a death knell.
“As you suspect, humanity’s time is running out. Once the Holy Land falls silent, we will be condemned to eternal damnation, with no salvation.”
A suffocating despair enveloped everyone.
A century was but a fleeting moment in civilization!
“Your Excellency…”
The Master Inquisitor’s voice trembled, carrying both despair and a glimmer of hope.
“What shall we do?”
Lucien did not answer directly.
He lifted his head slightly and recited in an ancient, obscure tongue that seemed from the end of time a solemn proverb.
His tone grave and mournful, every syllable bearing the weight of humanity’s desperate struggle: “Iter per aspera ad astra.”
(Through hardships, we reach the stars.)
His gaze returned to the screen, fixed on the black-haired youth flipping through the Church’s Scripture, seemingly oblivious to the darkness about to engulf all.
In the depths of the Archbishop’s steel-blue eyes burned a fire of desperate resolve: “Go confirm it, my brethren. Go confirm whether the redemption foretold in the prophecy…has already come!”