SOTBW - 208

Venus stood on the freshly swept path, gazing at the unexpectedly spacious and comfortable grounds of the Romsoa Knights. He had visited relief shelters before, but this was his first time coming to a knightly order.

It made sense, though. When someone as high-ranking as an archbishop visited a knightly order, the servants responsible for cleanliness would scrub the buildings and roads until they gleamed in preparation for the distinguished guest’s arrival. The knights, too, would put on showy training displays, exhausting themselves in the process.

Considering Venus’ background and noble lineage, such treatment might have been expected. However, Venus held a firm belief that the labor of the common people—essentially the backbone of the kingdom—should not be wasted on meaningless tasks. 

Perhaps it was this mindset that led to Venus being passed over for the dukedom of the Luamars family. For a noble, he was unusually pragmatic and rational, almost resembling a scholar of common birth. Such traits were rare among the haughty and highborn aristocratic families who prided themselves on their arrogance and status.

Venus’ personality had undergone a complete transformation after reading the biography of Aron Noctis. Ironically, one interesting fact was that more than half of the books about Astrun were filled with fabrications and flights of imagination by later generations. Considering how a largely fictional heroic tale had completely changed the course of Venus’ life, one might even humorously argue that humanity’s mediocre talent for spinning plausible lies could occasionally yield positive results.

If Venus hadn’t been inspired by the biography of Aron Noctis—a story likely fabricated in large part—it’s possible he wouldn’t have developed the new thaumaturgical formula based on the Type-4 formula he discovered in Najane’s body.

Of course, as a noble born into a ducal family, Venus harbored the ambition to rise to the highest position in whatever he did. But at this moment, he was merely a lonely middle-aged man waiting anxiously for Gwyneth to return to the knightly order.

Moreover, without any priests to assist him, the servants began whispering among themselves about the strange man standing like a statue in the middle of the road. With Maximón already on edge due to Najane’s deteriorating health, the presence of a suspicious individual wandering around the knightly order could easily cause an uproar.

Unaware of these murmurs, Venus scolded Gwyneth in his mind for leaving him here while searching for Belshua. Unable to bear the servants’ stares, he pretended to fiddle with his rosary bracelet. However, the servants, failing to notice the religious symbol, whispered among themselves about whether they should report him to the guards.

For a brief moment, Venus imagined himself being humiliatingly dragged away by the guards. Grimacing at the thought, he feigned feeling overheated despite the cold weather and subtly removed his robe. When his priestly attire was revealed, the servants who had been eyeing him suspiciously finally gasped in realization.

Venus, now feeling awkward, cleared his throat and began walking aimlessly after pulling his robe back on. The vastness of the knightly order made it impossible to know where Gwyneth had gone.

As Venus wandered aimlessly, he soon spotted a building from which knights were pouring out in droves. It seemed they were heading out for training. Venus scanned the crowd, hoping to spot Belshua. But no matter how closely he examined the faces of the knights, Belshua was nowhere to be found.

Time was running out for Venus. Although Gwyneth rarely involved himself in cathedral affairs due to the Pope’s special instructions, Venus, as an archbishop, had a mountain of responsibilities awaiting him.

Perhaps if he followed the knights, he might run into Belshua? Deep in thought, Venus suddenly heard a shout: “Hey, you there!” He didn’t think for a moment that the call was directed at him.

After all, he was a middle-aged man far too old to be called “hey.”

“Hey, look over here, will you!”

But when the bizarre call persisted, Venus reluctantly turned his head. A woman with fiery red hair was leaning halfway out of a window, waving her hand at him.

Venus furrowed his brow and briefly scanned his surroundings. He wasn’t sure if she was calling out to some child nearby. But as he was the only person standing near the knights’ quarters, there was no mistaking it.

With an incredulous expression, Venus let out a dry laugh. Born as the young master of the Luamars family and having served the Holy Church for forty-seven years, this was the first time he had experienced such humiliation. How dare someone address him, a man clearly much older, with “hey.”

Overwhelmed by disbelief, Venus laughed like a man unhinged. Determined to reprimand the young-looking woman, he approached the window. Just as he was about to demand whether she knew who he was, he froze upon seeing her dark green eyes.

Venus’ mind went blank for a moment at the sight of those distinctive emerald-green eyes. Such a rare color was seldom seen in ordinary people. In fact, it was said that the Elgort family bestowed titles upon any child born with those dark green eyes, regardless of reputation or ability. 

It was precisely those dark green eyes that allowed Maximón to become Edwin Elgort’s adopted son.

Caught off guard by the unexpected appearance of the woman, Venus couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“…Are you from the Elgort family?”

Venus, who had intended to scold her but was now bewildered, asked hesitantly. The red-haired woman with dark green eyes—Rakhshu—nodded confidently and smiled meaningfully.

“How dare anyone discuss the Elgort family without mentioning me. I am the living history of the Elgort family.”

Venus was dumbfounded by her brazen response. Her confidence was so unshakable that it was hard to dismiss her words as lies or exaggeration. Unconsciously, Venus began recalling the genealogy of the Elgort family.

“But I’ve never heard of Edwin Elgort having a daughter… Are you an adopted child, like Maximón?”

Venus tilted his head in confusion at Rakhshu’s words, but then suddenly flinched as he realized something.

“No, wait a moment. Look here. Anyone can see that I’m older than you, so why are you speaking to me so casually? And calling me a child repeatedly... it’s quite unpleasant. Show some respect and address me properly as ‘Your Excellency.’”

“Oh ho, I figured you weren’t just anyone when you responded to my call. So, you’re an archbishop? What’s your name?”

“Venus Luamars… ah, no, I didn’t come here to exchange names with you…”

“Luamars? That name rings a bell.”

Rakhshu furrowed her brow as she concentrated, likely recalling something Mackanon had told her. While idly spending her days in the treasure vault imbued with the holy sword, Mackanon had shared various interesting stories with Rakhshu, including one about the Luamars family.

Rakhshu cast her gaze into the distance as she tried to remember.

“They were born around the time of Villar, from a similar lineage. Was it the Luamars family of Bastronia? Yes, that must be it. But things got tangled up. Originally, Villar’s reincarnation was supposed to be entrusted to the Powley family of Kalonosia after wandering with their mother. But Kieron took Emaydis’ place instead… Hmm, why did it get so messed up?”

“You gave Kieron the Soul Compass, so of course, it got tangled.”

“Hmm. I didn’t give it to him for that purpose. Do you think Kieron used the Soul Compass for that?”

“What else could that lunatic have used it for? Why did you even give it to him in the first place?”

“Well, after Mahilen made a mistake while creating Maximón and fate got twisted, I thought, ‘Ah, whatever,’ and figured I’d clean up Kieron, who was clinging to Bersha like a leech… So, to summarize, I gave him the Soul Compass to help him find Bersha.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I lent it to him hoping that if he saw Bersha living happily, he’d finally leave the cycle of reincarnation.”

“Does that even make sense? Bersha is…”

“The souls inside Bersha belong to Sainth and Kieron. The actual owner of the body isn’t there. You know that, right? Kieron had no idea that reviving the dead required a soul. He only brought the body back to life, and that’s why the world has fallen into this chaos. He revived Bersha, but Bersha isn’t really there… So where is Bersha’s soul?”

“…Don’t tell me they reincarnated?”

“Yes. That fool Kieron, consumed by hatred for their mother and inferiority towards their sister, couldn’t die and now believes that living monster is their master.”

“So where is Bersha’s reincarnation?”

“I’m not sure. But when the time comes, won’t they head to Noctis Fortress?”

“You didn’t investigate with the Soul Compass?”

“Why should I? I already explained. Cyrine set the board, so whether they want to or not, they’ll gather at Noctis Fortress. Cyrine is quite the twisted one, choosing Noctis Fortress as the place to end everything… Does Mahilen remember? The first Emaydis, who suffered because of them, longed for Sainth and passed away on that very land of Noctis Fortress.”

Rakhshu, recalling the conversation from the treasure vault, looked down at Venus.

“If you’re from the Luamars family, that means you’re either part of Villar’s family or a relative.”

“Villar? There’s no one by that name in the ducal family. And more importantly, could you please use proper honorifics?”

But Rakhshu ignored Venus’ request and smiled faintly.

“Anyway, what brings you to the knightly order? If you’re an archbishop, are you here to see Gwyneth or Boris?”

Venus frowned at Rakhshu, who showed no intention of using polite speech. He knew he should cut the conversation short and go look for Gwyneth or Belshua, but for some reason, he kept engaging with this woman in front of him.

Perhaps asking her about Belshua’s whereabouts would be faster. Given that she stayed in the knights’ quarters, she was clearly affiliated with Romsoa.

“Do you happen to know someone named Belshua Chernon? I came here to meet with… well, that person.”

“What? Are you acquainted with that guy?”

Venus brightened at Rakhshu’s reaction.

“Not exactly acquaintances… I came to consult with them about something. If you can tell me their whereabouts, I’ll reward you generously. I’m a busy man and need to return to the cathedral soon.”

Rakhshu was about to respond when her gaze fell on the book in Venus’ hand. It was a thick tome, one that seemed like it should be cradled protectively against his chest. The spine bore the name “Aron Noctis.” Recognizing the familiar name, Rakhshu smiled.

“That’s a book about Aron Noctis, isn’t it? What kind of book is it? A heroic tale? Or a biography?”

The moment Rakhshu mentioned Aron, Venus, who had been pressed for time, brightened into a warm smile. Though the spine indeed bore Aron’s name, the text wasn’t written in the common Astien language but in Old Ancient—a fact that spoke volumes about the reader’s erudition in this day and age.

To Venus’ surprise, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he showed off the book, raising the corners of his lips smugly.

“Do you also have an interest in this great man? Unlike your earlier rudeness, it seems you hold some respect for Astrun. This is the finest work ever written about Aron Noctis. It was penned by the renowned scholar and cardinal of the Holy Church, Sir Austin Heldburnen, after a lifetime of research into Aron’s life and seven painstaking years of writing. It encapsulates the essence of Aron Noctis himself. It’s an extremely rare and difficult-to-obtain ancient text. However…” 

Venus trailed off suddenly, realizing he had let slip something he shouldn’t have. In his careless rambling, he had mentioned formulas. Gwyneth’ stern warnings not to speak of formulas to anyone flashed vividly in his mind. Flustered, Venus quickly lowered his gaze and tucked the book back under his arm, his earlier pride fading into awkwardness.