"It’s almost blinding," Nasser murmured as he walked, lightly dressed with a hooded cloak draped over him.

Ian, his hood pulled low, walked beside him and nodded casually. "Yeah."

The city was both relaxed and lively. Along the main road lined with buildings of all sizes, the scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the air, while neatly dressed residents strolled about at an easy pace.

"I can’t remember the last time I felt such gentle morning sunlight. Only now do I realize how precious it is."

Children’s laughter echoed from a nearby alley, blending into Nasser’s words.

Despite the liveliness, a calmness prevailed, likely because most people were already out working.

"The count’s a capable lord, no doubt, but how did he rebuild all this in just a few years?" Ian muttered, glancing at the children running through the alley.

It wasn’t just recovery; the place looked even more prosperous than before.

"Some likely came of their own accord, but he must have requested migrants from the Empire. Once approved, they’re recruited from other cities. Applicants are guaranteed safe passage and even provided with land to settle," Nasser replied calmly.

He scanned the roadside stalls filled with bread and dried fruit.

"There have been too many incidents of corruption, unrest, and chaos of late, haven’t there? Quite a few must have come here in search of peace and stability. Of course, the count would have had to pay a considerable price for it."

"Ah." Ian nodded.

So the Empire isn’t completely run like a mess after all.

Whatever the case, it was clear that the count had poured everything into rebuilding Drenorov. Despite strained finances, he had even tried to repay his debts.

"And of course, it’s thanks to the blessing of the Goddess of Prosperity upon this land," Nasser added, shifting his gaze.

Ian followed his gaze.

A towering church, which was their destination, rose prominently above the rest of the city.

"Hopefully, the count lives long. That heir of his... doesn’t seem nearly as wary of the goddess’s other side," Nasser said lightly, quickening his pace as he flicked a raisin into his mouth.

So he just took that from a stall. He’s really become a frontier man.

Ian let out a chuckle and followed at an unhurried pace.

It had been a while since he’d seen such a peaceful, pastoral scene, made all the better by the absence of exaggerated reverence or people dropping to their knees.

"Hmm?"

Of course, there were still the occasional glances cast their way. But no one seemed to recognize him as the Demigod of the North or the Agent of the Saint of the Order.

It wasn’t just the hood.

The count hadn’t announced his visit, and neither had the Ark Caravan.

Though word’s probably starting to spread by now...

Even so, anyone who knew would likely assume he was at the merchant estate, not wandering the streets like this.

"My lord." Nasser lowered his voice.

When Ian turned, Nasser subtly nodded ahead. "I think someone’s waiting for us."

Ian looked forward. They were nearing the church gates now.

Just off to the side of the gate, a woman in a worn hooded cloak stood, glancing around as if searching for someone.

"It seems the bishop sent someone ahead," Nasser added calmly.

After all, they had sent Spello to request a meeting last night. Beneath his hood, Ian’s brow twitched.

"Why go through the trouble?"

Just then, having spotted them, the woman began walking over, her steps steady yet quick.

Ian’s eyes widened slightly.

"Agent of the Saint!" A breathless exclamation escaped the lips of the middle-aged woman in the worn hood. Her gaze locked onto Ian alone, ignoring Nasser entirely.

"You’ve been well."

Anna, was it?

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

She was the woman who had guided him back then, the one who had lost her son in Drenorov’s tragedy.

There were more wrinkles on her face now, but her expression was much more peaceful.

"It is an honor that you remember me. I’m glad to see you again." Anna smiled and dropped to one knee respectfully.

Nasser stopped beside Ian as he asked, "Did Bishop Luce send you?"

"Yes. He asked me to escort you both quietly."

Ian’s brow twitched.

Anna lowered her hood further and turned. "This way, please."

As she moved ahead almost soundlessly, Ian exchanged a glance with Nasser. Nasser simply shrugged, his usual composure unchanged, and pulled his hood.

Well, we’ll find out soon enough.

Ian followed behind Anna, pulling his hood lower as well. Without a sound, she opened the gate, casting a glance behind before slipping inside.

With Nasser taking the lead, Ian stepped in. A short corridor stretched ahead, bathed in sunlight. Beyond it, there was likely a chapel housing the statue of Della Lu.

Even here, the warmth of divine energy lingered.

Sss—

However, Anna didn’t head toward the chapel.

Instead, she moved swiftly along the wall and slipped through a small, hidden side door, barely visible behind a column.

So it’s some passage used by deacons, perhaps.

Ian followed without hesitation, keeping his footsteps silent and his senses sharpened.

Anna climbed a set of stairs and entered an empty corridor. Rather than heading toward the center, she turned the opposite way. Then, at last, she opened a wooden door at the far end.

The hinges were silent, as though they had been thoroughly applied with wax.

Turning with the door, she looked back at Nasser and Ian. Nasser passed her without pause, stepping inside. Ian gave a slight nod before following.

A small, dimly lit, somewhat worn office revealed itself—perhaps a study used by deacons.

Behind the desk, a priest shot to his feet, eyes wide.

"It’s been a while, Bishop," Ian said just as the door closed silently behind them.

He was now certain that no one else was in the hallway but Anna.

Bishop Luce, who had been staring at him with trembling eyes, finally clasped his hands together and bowed his head. "May the heavens shine with glory. I am relieved to see you safe and well again, Agent of the Saint!"

"As am I. You must have endured quite a few hardships. Still, you held your ground well."

It wasn’t just his rank that had changed. His expression was calmer now, and he had even grown out his beard.

There was no trace left of the young priest who once trembled in the dark, tears in his eyes.

"I didn’t ask for such a secretive meeting," Ian added, removing his hood and glancing at Nasser beside him.

Luce bowed his head as he replied, "My apologies. There are too many eyes and ears. I feared I might cause trouble for you, Agent of the Saint."

"Trouble?"

As Ian tilted his head slightly, Luce stepped aside and gestured to his chair. "Please, have a seat first."

Ian shook his head and took one of the chairs across the desk instead. "I’ll sit here."

Nasser naturally sat beside him.

"I’ve prepared some wine. Would you care for some?" Luce asked.

"I won’t refuse that." Ian smiled.

Luce immediately picked up two pewter cups from the corner of the desk and placed them in front of them.

"A group of priests was dispatched by the Great Church to purify Tessen," he said as he began pouring wine into Ian’s cup.

Ian nodded. "I’ve already heard."

"Even after the purification was complete, a few priests and deacons remained here. Of course, they are faithful and follow my lead well enough, but..."

After filling Nasser’s cup, Luce poured his own and let out a faint, bitter smile.

"I’m certain some of them are reporting back to the Great Church."

"I see." Ian lifted his cup, the corner of his lips twisting slightly.

So he’s turned into quite the conspiracy theorist.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. After all, both he and Philip had planted seeds of distrust toward the Great Church before leaving. It seemed those seeds had taken root rather well.

"I’ve heard that, ever since the Black Wall fell, there have been irreverent opinions circulating within the Church."

Of course, in this case, it couldn’t simply be dismissed as baseless paranoia.

Setting the bottle down, Luce took his seat properly and continued, "Some even claim that responsibility should be placed upon the great Platinum Dragon—and upon its agent."

"Well, I knew that already," Ian nodded, lowering his glass.

It was a moment that truly made him feel he had returned to the Empire’s heartland. The Great Church and the Round Table could reach him at any time.

"Without a doubt, the pure devotees are behind it. Perhaps some of them are even here among us."

At Luce’s added remark, Ian’s gaze drifted naturally toward Nasser.

Nasser simply shrugged.

"I only answered because he asked. I thought he should know the truth if I wished to offer him a proper apology."

"You really poured fuel on the fire..." Ian let out a quiet laugh and shook his head.

It was more than enough to reinforce Luce’s suspicions.

Looking back at Luce as he took a drink, Ian added, "Still, by now, there are probably priests who know I’m here."

"I haven’t confirmed it, but that may be the case. Even with strict orders to keep silent, it’s impossible to seal every mouth."

Luce nodded, setting his glass down as he met Ian’s gaze.

"But unless they’ve seen it with their own eyes, it remains uncertain. And if they find out I’ve met with you, they’ll try to know what we discussed."

"So you don’t want them realizing you don’t trust them." Ian’s smile deepened slightly.

"Yes." Luce placed a hand over his chest, his expression solemn. "That is why, despite having nothing to be ashamed of before the heavens, I had no choice but to receive you in secret, Agent of the Saint."

"You must’ve been lonely," Ian said, lifting his glass.

A gentle smile spread across Luce’s face. "I’ve had no hardship in serving the divine. And besides, it’s not as though there’s no one here I can trust."

He was likely referring to Anna, now wandering the corridors, and people like the count and Spello.

So it’s not just his appearance that’s changed.

Nodding faintly, Ian raised his glass again as Luce’s calm voice continued, "I heard you came to request aid from His Excellency the Count. Please don’t worry; the Great Church will not interfere with your path, Agent of the Saint. I will only begin writing my report after you’ve left Drenorov."

Luce met Ian’s gaze and smiled faintly.

"It will only be a matter of days at most. Once I begin writing the report, even if there are pure devotees among us, they won’t dare act rashly. By the time the report reaches the Great Church, you will already be—"

"You can write it immediately."

"—back in the North... Pardon?" Luce blinked, a beat too late.

Ian lowered his glass and said, "I’m not planning to return to North right after leaving Drenorov. The Great Church will find out eventually anyway. There’s no need for you to take unnecessary risks or draw suspicion upon yourself."

He didn’t bother adding that he needed the experience provided by the Round Table’s pawns.

If a clash was inevitable, better sooner than later.

"You’re not returning right away?" Luce’s voice came out dazed.

Ian tilted his head slightly toward Nasser. "I’ll be sending the caravan ahead with a few companions. As for me, I’ll be heading down to Racliffe."

Luce’s eyes widened as he froze in place.