An Honest Confession

“Isn’t Edith being a bit too rude? If you feel uncomfortable, I can reprimand her for you.” After they had put some distance between themselves and the church, Gwynevere suddenly asked.

“No need. Mundane etiquette is boring and meaningless. I don’t care.”

Now that she was alone with Gwynevere, Daphne began putting on airs again, pretending to be profound and mysterious. Paired with the pure white psalmist robe she wore today, she looked even more sacred.

But despite her words, Daphne was terrified. If Edith thought she was tattling to Gwynevere, she would probably be bullied again.

“In that case, I won’t interfere further.” Gwynevere’s tone was respectful.

To better investigate the movements of the undead, the Pope had initially chosen to set up the Templar Knights’ camp not far west of the town. The route required crossing a forest path, which took a moderate amount of time on foot.

Yet even that short distance felt unbearably long. Daphne could clearly see that Gwynevere beside her was distracted, nearly tripping multiple times—far from her usual self.

“Saintess, are your thoughts too cluttered today?” Daphne could no longer keep up the facade and decided to question her in her current capacity.

“You… noticed?” Gwynevere stopped, turning to face Daphne, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

“On such a flat road, nearly falling multiple times—anyone would notice,” Daphne replied coldly, lightly waving her wide white sleeve. She then asked, “What troubles you, servant of Vatitaya? If you’d rather not say, that’s fine, but don’t let distractions cloud your judgment.”

In truth, she didn’t actually intend to make this rigid girl spill all her secrets. A warning was enough, since it was already affecting her work and life.

Gwynevere halted. Wearing her psalmist robe, she knelt on one knee before Daphne.

“I confess: I have developed improper thoughts and desires toward you. This is sinful and blasphemous. I repent.” She spoke devoutly, full of apology.

Daphne’s mind went blank. She never expected Gwynevere to actually have the courage to say it, nor did she expect that such things could be confessed.

Seeing the High Psalmist remain silent, Gwynevere lowered her head and added, “I know your wisdom is deep and that you see into people’s hearts. Concealing it is futile. Whether I can overcome my selfish desires and confess honestly—this is also a test from you, isn’t it?”

A test? Is it?

Daphne was dumbfounded. How could she have considered such a thing? She simply wanted to give a gentle reminder, not make the girl spill everything.

“That’s right.” Forcing herself to admit it, Daphne felt cold sweat soaking her back.

“I seek your wisdom. If I think of you day and night, and your image and voice constantly appear in my mind, how should I resolve it?” After receiving an affirmative answer, Gwynevere then asked.

She seemed completely unaware of how embarrassing her words were, finding no issue with them at all.

But this was clearly a direct confession!

Fortunately, no one was around to witness it, or Daphne would have dug a hole and buried her head in it. To have the girl she raised suddenly express such passionate love—who could handle that?

She had no idea how to face the Saintess’s intense assault. Her overloaded mind frantically searched for a suitable response.

“Restrain your desires and discard distractions. This is a necessary tempering for you.” Daphne coughed lightly to clear her throat, then spoke gravely.

“I understand.” Gwynevere’s tone was slightly disappointed. “Thank you for your guidance, Miss Ellenore.”

Just as she stood, she heard Daphne add, “I will stay here for a while, until things settle at the Snowpeak Mountain base. I have no plans to return to St. Mary’s.”

“That means…” Gwynevere’s dim ice-blue eyes brightened a little.

“Cherish the present, Gwynevere.”

Compared to bottling it up, speaking out left Gwynevere in a much better state. Even the corners of her mouth, which usually never curved, occasionally lifted into a faint, barely noticeable smile.

Daphne had never seen the girl known as the Iceheart Saintess for her lack of emotion look so happy. So a promise held such power. Today, she had witnessed a stone blossom.

But these two sisters were still too dangerous. Staying by their side would eventually turn her into a plaything.

Daphne decided to first resolve the trouble in the Northmarch, then find a chance to flee. By then, her strength would certainly be enough that she would not be easily caught, even if Edith and Gwynevere came after her together.

The first thing she would do was remove the bow and bell tied to the orb. Walking with her legs pressed together was too painful!

After setting off again, they soon reached the Templar Knights’ camp.

Canvas tents were neatly scattered across a large clearing, each tent flap embroidered with the emblem of a longsword. Numerous crates and sacks lay idle outside the tents, wooden weapon racks—some full, some empty—stood in rows, and attendants or soldiers leading horses hurried anxiously through the camp.

An expeditionary force of over ten thousand required immense supplies even for three meals a day. Even without emergencies, the camp was perpetually busy.

Everyone who saw Gwynevere saluted her, some addressing her as “Saintess” and others as “Vice-Commander.” Both titles belonged to her.

Compared to Edith and Daphne, who held higher commander positions in the Templar Knights, the position was entrusted to Gwynevere because she was raised by Daphne and was more trustworthy.

But unfortunately, Gwynevere still couldn’t bear the duties of commander. Edith, a long-time member of the Blazing Sun Knights, commanded considerable respect among the Templar Knights. The current arrangement was evidently more convincing.

So far, Daphne hadn’t met any Templar Knights—only the attendants or sergeants under them, subordinates of Gwynevere’s subordinates.

As she pondered, two young men in fur-lined robes and cloaks approached. They were elegant and handsome, a stark contrast to the busy surroundings.

Daphne recognized them: Templar Knight Valentine and Templar Knight Grek. They were chatting leisurely until they noticed Gwynevere and Daphne approaching from about fifty paces away.

“Good morning, Saintess.” Both knelt on one knee before Gwynevere.

“Good morning, Mr. Valentine, Mr. Grek.” Gwynevere nodded for them to rise. “This is Miss Ellenore Perkin, the High Psalmist of St. Mary’s Religious Territory. You should have heard of her.”

“The renowned Green Emerald of St. Mary’s. I’ve heard that beneath the High Psalmist’s mysterious veil lies stunning beauty. Seeing it today, I find the rumors true.” Valentine rose and performed a knight’s salute to Daphne.

“Thank you for your compliment.” Daphne smiled back.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Ellenore.” Grek was somewhat more reserved, not as eloquent as Valentine.

“Pleased to meet you.” Daphne felt a little reassured seeing her former subordinates still the same.

“Miss Ellenore is new to the camp. Would you like us to accompany you on a tour?” Valentine offered warmly.

“No need, Mr. Valentine.” Gwynevere declined, sweeping her cold gaze over him. “Gather all Templar Knights still in the camp. Prepare for a council.”