The Vampire Psalmist

The temporary camp was set up to the southwest of Kohl Town.

The location was chosen so that the cavalry could raid southward more quickly and with greater surprise. One of Todis’s reasons for defeat was his failure to anticipate that humans would dare to build a camp in the pine forest.

Gwynevere had inwardly questioned such an aggressive strategy before, but since it was a plan proposed by that great being, there must have been deeper considerations beyond her comprehension. Today’s actual combat proved its remarkable effectiveness.

Clusters of campfires cast a soft orange glow in the night, with wisps of cooking smoke drifting into the sky. The pleasant aroma of roasted meat filled the air.

Compared to the past few days of gloom and melancholy, the guards’ spirits tonight were noticeably higher—even radiant.

With the battle just ended, alcohol was no longer prohibited in the camp. Men gathered around the fires, clinking cups, telling crude jokes, or boasting about their heroic deeds on the battlefield.

Leading Emma along the forest path back to the camp, Gwynevere observed the soldiers by their tents. Even she could feel vitality and joy spreading and taking root among the people.

Gwynevere couldn’t join in such occasions, but seeing everyone revitalized, her own tense heart relaxed as well.

“Your Holiness, you’ve come at just the right time. Please try this freshly roasted turkey—it’s the most aromatic in the entire camp.” Unusually, a guard actually took the initiative to speak to her. Gwynevere had thought her cold demeanor would keep people away.

She turned her head toward the voice. Based on the tent arrangement, these should be Carl Shelley’s men.

A young man by the campfire stood up, holding a skewer of roasted turkey.

No wonder he was so confident in his grilling skills.

“What would Her Holiness care for our food? Put that away. Don’t embarrass us,” another young man teased half-jokingly.

“Please don’t mind them, Your Holiness. They’re from the countryside, straightforward and harmless.” Yet another young man rose and bowed apologetically to Gwynevere. He looked refined and quiet, presumably serving in a clerical role.

After all, they were subordinates of her subordinates, and Gwynevere didn’t know them.

She had never experienced anything like this before. The guards under the knights usually kept their distance from the Iceheart Saintess; being approached so warmly was a first.

“Could you prepare a plate for me? I’d like to take it to my tent.” Just as everyone thought the Saintess would refuse, Gwynevere made a small request.

The young men by the fire froze for a moment, then scrambled to search around. Finally, they arranged the skewered turkey on a plate and presented it to Gwynevere.

“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.” Gwynevere returned her staff to the saddlebag and gave a slight bow to the young men who had handed her the plate.

Seeing them all stunned, Gwynevere touched her cheek. “Is there… something strange on my face?”

“No, no, nothing at all.” The young man who handed over the plate quickly shook his head. “It’s just… you seem different from the rumors…”

“Rumors?” Gwynevere didn’t understand.

“Like being cold, taciturn, and unfriendly—” Before he could finish, the clerical-looking young man covered his mouth.

“Just some stereotypical nonsense. No need to mind it, Your Holiness.” The clerical youth smiled awkwardly. “You’ve proven through your actions that you’re an excellent leader. We all deeply respect you.”

“I see. Thank you.” Gwynevere still didn’t fully grasp it, so she simply nodded.

She placed the tray on the saddle, set the plate of turkey inside, then led Emma deeper into the camp.

But soon, Gwynevere realized that strange experience wasn’t an isolated incident. In the short walk, more guards showed her goodwill and enthusiasm. The small gifts on the tray kept piling up until it could barely hold any more.

“I’ll share some with Edith.”

After breaking free from the crowd, Gwynevere looked at the tray laden with food on Emma’s back. Estimating that she couldn’t eat it all alone, she thought of her sister.

“Come to think of it, it’s usually Edith who’s so popular. I never thought I could be…” Gwynevere began to realize something. Reflecting on the experience, she found it was something that usually only happened to Edith. She wanted to ask Miss Ellenore, who might know what was going on.

After leading Emma into the temporary stable, Gwynevere carried the tray toward Edith’s tent.

“Over there. Miss Ellenore and Miss Edith share that tent—just the two ladies.” A passing Templar pointed out the spot for Gwynevere.

The tent flap was closed, firelight shining brightly inside. Someone was there. Gwynevere breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is that for Miss Edith? Shall I take it for you?” The knight noticed the tray in Gwynevere’s hand and asked eagerly.

“No need. I can manage.” Gwynevere shook her head.

“Very well. Then I’ll take my leave.” The knight bowed and turned away.

Gwynevere watched him go, standing still for a long while before moving again. As she approached the tent, she saw shadows flickering inside.

“Eep♡—!”

A sudden, coquettish cry came from inside the tent, startling Gwynevere into stopping.

She quickly recognized it as Ellenore’s voice. Thinking something might be wrong, she hurriedly lifted the tent flap and rushed in. “Miss Ellenore, are you all right?”

The tent was empty—only Ellenore was there. She sat behind the table facing the entrance, her slender waist and back perfectly straight, her lustrous mercury-silver hair cascading over her shoulders. Her porcelain-white cheeks were tinged with an ambiguous peach-pink.

For some reason, Gwynevere felt that her posture seemed slightly unnatural.

“I-I’m fine♡… I’m just♡…” Ellenore covered her mouth, her body trembling slightly, her hair rustling with the movement. “Mm♡… Probably just exhausted from today♡…”

“I see. Then you should rest early.”

Though it felt a bit odd, Gwynevere believed her. “Do you know where Edith is? I’m looking for her.”

“E-Edith♡? Ugh♡… She♡…” Ellenore suddenly arched her back, shot a reproachful glance under the table, then looked up at Gwynevere with an embarrassed smile. “She♡… went back to town first♡…”