"No chance at all?"
Hearing how definitive Charles sounded, Jaemar couldn't help but ask, clearly unwilling to give up.
Charles shook his head decisively. "None. I may not be one of the top powerhouses in the world, but I'm certainly considered elite—on par with first-rate combatants in any country. Yet even when Orsaga had just arrived, barely familiar with this world, the power inside him was already hundreds of times stronger than mine...
And shortly after that, the connection between us was completely severed. Before it broke, I could still feel him growing stronger—or perhaps recovering? All I know is that the gap between us kept widening."
After a moment of silence, Jaemar muttered, "We still have to come up with a plan, right? You and I aren't the type to sit around waiting for death…"
Charles didn't argue. He just sighed helplessly. "That may be true, but we don't have any opportunities right now. The spells he placed on us are still in effect—we don't even have the right to resist.
In fact, we still don't even know what his objective is. He hasn't paid us the slightest attention, doesn't take us seriously at all. To him, we're just tools for handling chores."
Looking at his demoralized companion, Jaemar smacked his lips unconsciously. The wine in his mouth suddenly tasted bitter. He too looked dispirited. "That's exactly why I'm uneasy. I don't know what he's planning, but it can't be anything good. When the truth finally comes out… it might be the moment we die."
"Sigh…"
After another stretch of silence, Jaemar, realizing their meeting was starting to feel like a mutual pity party, composed himself, set down his wine glass, and resumed his usual calm demeanor. He turned to Charles and said, "Actually, you came at just the right time. Something big might be about to happen here, and I could use your help."
Charles asked with some confusion, "What kind of thing would make you feel short-handed?" He took another sip of his wine.
Meeting his gaze, Jaemar gave a sheepish smile. "I've received credible information—the members of the Profane Convenant are hiding in the capital…"
The moment Charles heard the name of that all-too-familiar cult—one he had led not long ago—he immediately knew this wasn't a simple matter. His expression turned serious as he slowly set down his glass, trying to swallow the wine in his mouth.
"They're planning to secretly hold a demon-summoning ritual—"
"Pffft!!"
At the horrific news, Charles choked, spewing wine through his nose like a fountain!
Just like a nosebleed that wouldn't stop, the fine fabric of his expensive clothes was instantly stained.
"Cough cough cough…"
Jaemar, clearly used to his friend's reactions, handed over a napkin casually. "That's the situation. And I'm honestly troubled. If this goes on, the Principality of Mardain might end on my watch."
"Tsk—"
That really was a possibility. A very real one, in fact.
Charles wanted to say it aloud, but in the end, he only kept the thought to himself—not wanting to further demoralize Jaemar.
Wiping his face and hands, Charles asked grimly, "If that's the case, don't you have any clues as to where they're hiding?"
He had just taken on a new identity—not keen on becoming a fugitive noble already.
His meaning was clear: eliminate the Profane Convenant before they could act.
Jaemar spread his hands and sighed. "I wish I did. The whole lead about them preparing to summon a demon in the capital actually came from the Church. Even they don't seem to have much detailed information.
This suggests someone powerful in the capital is sheltering the cult—and not just any noble.
Trying to find something they've hidden? Even the royal family might not be able to do that.
You never know how many hideouts an aristocratic family that's been around for centuries might have accumulated.
If we had time, we could search them all—but we don't. If we move too slow, the demon will already be summoned, and by then it'll be too late. That's why I've made some concessions to gain the Church's support."
Charles frowned. "The Church, huh… not exactly the friendliest bunch. But when it comes to cults, I suppose they really are the experts…"
"No choice. As unpleasant as the Church is, they're still better than having a demon appear. Worst-case scenario, even if the Church overthrows the royal family later and hangs me, they'll probably leave me a whole corpse for being of royal blood.
If it were a demon, I'd be lucky to have anything left of me at all."
"You've got a point."
Charles had to admit, that made perfect sense. He couldn't argue with the logic.
"So… what exactly do you need from me?"
"Help me identify their hiding places. You don't need to fight. In the capital, once we confirm the exact location, unless the demon shows up right then and there, no one can escape the Mardain royal family's crackdown."
In other places, Jaemar might not be so confident. But in the capital, he had the resources and power to eliminate any mortal threat—be it a warlock or a knight. And if things did get out of hand, the Church, having taken their share of the deal, would be obligated to step in.
Charles looked troubled. "But I don't have manpower. The few people I've got aren't nearly enough to sweep through the whole capital. We'd be better off locking down the city and conducting a full military search."
Jaemar waved a hand, eyes serious.
"No! That won't work! Even with thousands of troops, we might not find anything. What I need right now is expertise—and you have it."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "I do?"
"You do!"
"Charles, the Profane Convenant has been on the Church's wanted list for years. The only reason they've lasted this long is their unmatched ability to stay hidden. Ordinary people have no chance of finding them using standard methods—but you're different!"
"You were the High Priest of the Society of Ten Thousand Secrets! You evaded the Church's pursuit for over a decade, and even then they only ever found a few faint traces of you.
Which means when it comes to 'how to hide as a cultist and evade investigation'—you're not just an expert, you could publish textbooks on the subject!!
That's why we need you. Use your professional expertise—apply your knowledge of cultist concealment—and identify the places in the capital most ideal for hiding. Then we'll investigate them one by one."
Staring at Jaemar, who was practically glowing with admiration, Charles nearly gave an acceptance speech: "I will—"
But thinking of his status, and the fact he'd still need to rely on him in the future, he held back. Besides… he really was an expert. In that field, he was unquestionably top-tier.
So, swallowing his pride and keeping a straight face, Charles replied calmly, "Fine. Get me the most detailed map of the capital, along with all related construction reports. I'll mark everything for you."
His aura was that of a seasoned grandmaster—radiating confidence.
Though truth be told, he'd been so focused on going straight lately that he'd almost forgotten he had this particular talent…
Jaemar simply chuckled and nodded. "Then I'll trouble you. I'll have my men prepare the map and documents immediately."
---
In a carriage, after leaving the royal residence of Crown Prince Jaemar, Bishop Saphir sat silently, his expression somber.
Harlica, a seasoned cleric from the Church's heresy purification Division, sensed something unusual.
After a brief hesitation, he cautiously asked, "Bishop, is something wrong?"
Saphir glanced at him, then sighed and shook his head.
"Oh, there's definitely something wrong. I just don't know exactly what. Our dear Prince Jaemar is hiding something from us…"
Everyone in the carriage was one of his personal confidants from his own diocese, so he didn't mind speaking freely.
"I originally planned to use the threat of a demon summoning as a pretext—to test the prince's response and see if we could reintegrate the Church's influence into the capital. But Jaemar… he was far too cooperative. It's like he's handing us benefits on a silver platter.
I hadn't even fully explained the Profane Convenant situation or laid out the consequences—yet he already agreed to let us establish a Church district in the capital. That's extremely suspicious. For a greedy noble, it's almost unheard of!
After all, the Mardain royal family went to great lengths to drive out our influence and consolidate their own authority—not hesitating to bleed resources to enlist aid from other principalities. Jaemar has no reason to destroy the achievements of his ancestors…"
Harlica frowned. Even he felt something was off. But as someone who had devoted his life to purging heresy, politics wasn't his strong suit. So he guessed randomly, "Maybe he pushed Yharnis too far and now he's desperate for allies?"
Saphir immediately shook his head. "Impossible. Given the typical hostility between royal families and the Church, even if Mardain needed allies, we'd never be their first pick.
Which means Jaemar is hiding something critical from us.
Allowing us to set up a Church district… it's a lure. One I'd bite even knowing something was wrong."
He turned to another clergyman and ordered, "Send word to Yat. When he comes to the Mardain, he is to bring the best heretic hunters and all sacred relics.
If Jaemar wants us to deal with the Profane Convenant, then we'll show him just what the Church has accumulated over the past few millennia…"
_____
T/N:
Hello everyone! my Patreon is $3 — a perfect opportunity to access advanced chapters and support the translation. (20+ chapters)
patreon.com/user?u=79514336
Or just search Translator-Sama on patreon