Chapter 20: Breaking the Deadlock (Part 3)

"Bring the priest up here immediately," Cardinal Jarvis ordered, his face finally regaining some composure. His initial instinct upon receiving the news was to rush to the Magic Academy, but he restrained himself.

The elder ministers, including Rodhart, looked curiously at the cardinal, puzzled by what could shake this usually calm and composed man so deeply. Yet Jarvis paid no attention to their gazes, his focus fixed solely on the priest who had come from the Magic Academy.

The priest, escorted by swordsmen past the Holy Knights' blockade, arrived outside the chamber. The swordsmen withdrew, leaving the priest to face the cardinal.

"Explain in detail—what kind of person broke into the cathedral's underground crypt? What was the situation at the time?" Jarvis demanded, his voice sharp.

The priest bowed and replied, "Your Eminence, it appeared to be a young man wearing a mask. He first captured High Priest Ryan and obtained the key to the crypt beneath the cathedral, then entered alone. After sealing the entrance with some strange magical barrier, he prevented anyone from following him. High Priest Ryan tried to break the barrier and pursue him, but to no avail. Not long after, there were violent tremors from the crypt, and then the man emerged. Despite our deployment of personnel outside, he managed to break through. High Priest Ryan tried to stop him but was gravely injured by his magic… which appeared to be necromancy."

"You said he stole something? What exactly did he take? And which direction did he flee?" Jarvis's voice grew harsher. His face showed a rare mix of near-hysterical anxiety and trembling—a look of desperation and fear, the kind only seen when a devoted lover hears of their beloved's betrayal or when a mother sees her child in mortal peril.

The surrounding ministers exchanged baffled glances, astonished to see such an expression on the cardinal's face.

The priest, still bowing, replied, "I did not see him myself. High Priest Ryan sent me to inform Your Eminence and request your immediate return to the Magic Academy, as he has something urgent to tell you."

Jarvis sighed heavily and turned to the ministers. "My apologies. I leave this matter to Lord Rodhart and you all to discuss further." Before his words fully landed, he turned and sprinted out of the chamber.

The ministers were left stunned, watching the cardinal's retreating figure. Rodhart was the first to recover. He waved at the priest, still standing there. "All right, you've delivered the message. You may leave."

But the priest did not move. Instead, he glanced at the direction Jarvis had disappeared, then spoke slowly, "I also brought medicine to treat Her Majesty the Queen. Might I administer it?"

Meanwhile, Jarvis was a whirlwind of motion, racing through the palace gates. Fire and thunder raged in his heart. He knew the importance of the item buried in the crypt. If that man had truly taken it, the consequences would be unimaginable. Jarvis had believed the man either unaware of its existence or too unqualified to touch it. Yet his momentary lapse had given the man such an opportunity.

Political schemes, power struggles, imperial ambitions—none of these held weight compared to the significance of the crypt's contents. The moment Jarvis received the news, all his thoughts shifted toward recovering what was lost. He abandoned Rodhart and the gathered ministers, sprinting out of the palace. Even if the item was gone, High Priest Ryan might still hold clues. No matter how slim the chance, Jarvis couldn't afford to overlook it.

Seizing a guard's horse, he galloped toward the Magic Academy, urging the animal onward with relentless whipping and white magic to sustain its stamina. The streets of the capital blurred as the horse's desperate cries echoed through the air.

Back in the chamber, the ministers were taken aback by the priest's words.

"What? You have medicine that can heal Her Majesty?" they exclaimed, their faces lighting up with joy. Only Rodhart froze momentarily before a sharp glint appeared in his usually calm eyes.

"Yes, it is a remedy left behind by Bishop Ronis. It can surely cure Her Majesty."

"Then what are you waiting for? Administer it to Her Majesty immediately!" cried Marquis Minsk, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Understood." The priest bowed and stepped forward.

"Wait. Stop right there!" Rodhart's voice boomed, his sword unsheathed, pointing at the priest. "Who sent you? You're not from the Magic Academy. If even High Priest Ryan doesn't know about the Queen's condition, how could he have sent you with medicine?"

The ministers exchanged startled glances, suddenly suspicious of the priest.

Rodhart's sharp gaze swept over the priest. If not for the clear differences in physique, he might have mistaken the man for someone they had all been dreading. The priest was short and slightly frail, his demeanor completely unremarkable. Even Jarvis hadn't noticed anything unusual about him. His face was plain—so plain that in the Magic Academy, he could easily blend into obscurity.

The priest remained calm, unfazed by the sword aimed at his chest. "High Priest Ryan doesn't know, but Bishop Ronis did. That's why he left behind this remedy, for use in critical moments."

Rodhart turned toward the Holy Knights outside and barked, "Send a squad to retrieve Cardinal Jarvis from the Magic Academy." He then turned back to the priest, his voice cold. "Nonsense. If Bishop Ronis had known, why didn't he treat Her Majesty earlier? Who sent you to mislead the cardinal?"

The priest maintained his composure and replied evenly, "Bishop Ronis was unsure at the time and couldn't have predicted Her Majesty's condition. But whether my words are true doesn't matter. What matters is whether Her Majesty can be healed. Wouldn't you agree, my lord?"

The veins on Rodhart's hand bulged slightly. He nearly stepped forward and struck the priest, to sever one of his feet first and interrogate him later. Based on what the priest had said, Rodhart was now certain that this man was at least an accomplice of "that person." Yet, despite the priest's outwardly frail and unassuming appearance, Rodhart hesitated to act, driven by a strong sense of unease.

No matter how ordinary or inconspicuous this person might appear on the surface, if he could remain this calm and indifferent under such circumstances, he was bound to possess something far from ordinary.

The priest's empty, lifeless eyes sent a chill down Rodhart's spine. "If you don't believe me, allow me to administer the remedy. If it works, it will ease your concerns."

"Very well. Show us the medicine," Marquis Minsk urged impatiently, gesturing for the priest to proceed. Whatever suspicions lingered, the chance to cure the Queen outweighed them.

"As you wish. However, I must administer it myself for it to be effective." The priest stepped toward the Queen's bed.

"Stop!" Rodhart stepped forward, his sword now only inches from the priest's chest. "This man is highly suspicious. He must not approach Her Majesty. For all we know, he's the mastermind behind this conspiracy." His voice grew louder. "Guards! Take him away—"

"Let him try. Her Majesty is already in this state," interjected the Prime Minister.

Before Rodhart could respond, the priest continued walking toward the Queen, completely ignoring the sword aimed at him.

Enraged, Rodhart lunged, his blade a blur of white light aimed at the priest's chest. It was a masterful strike, swift and seamless, blending stillness and motion into one flawless attack.

But in the blink of an eye, Rodhart was sent stumbling backward. The priest had merely raised his hand, brushing aside the blade as though it were nothing, then lightly pushing Rodhart away.

It wasn't just the priest's physical strength that unnerved Rodhart. As the man deflected the sword, his body began to change. Muscles swelled, bones shifted, and his figure grew taller. Within moments, the plain and unassuming priest had transformed into a towering, imposing figure.

Though his face remained unchanged, Rodhart instantly recognized him. His expression twisted with shock and anger as he choked out, "It's you?"

The man ignored him, striding toward the Queen.

"Stop him! He's the mastermind! The one who killed Bishop Ronis!" Rodhart roared, charging again with his sword.

But this time, the man didn't just deflect the attack—he countered. A fist wreathed in white energy struck Rodhart squarely in the chest, sending him flying backward. The sickening sound of armor crumpling and bones breaking filled the chamber as blood sprayed from Rodhart's mouth.