From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 18
Theogrim’s appearance, drenched in the rain that had saved him, holding the girl he had saved, and bowing to the great Holy Knight, was deeply etched into the hearts of all the villagers.
It was a moment that would be sung again and again by poets for a long time thereafter.
The villagers rejoiced as they received the rain, mixed with ash and smoke, believing they were being drenched in the same holy rain as a saint.
Tears streamed endlessly from the villagers’ eyes.
It was a sacred rapture they had never experienced. They clearly felt the presence of God among them.
After that day, not a single person doubted that this boy was the savior who had come at God’s calling.
. . . “Lord Theogrim.”
In the lavish prayer room, thousands of candles glowed. Theogrim, who had been praying, opened his closed eyes.
Turning around at the summons, the noble Del Rose, Theogrim, wore a gentle expression.
“I apologize. The cloak… it seems it will take a little longer. It’s an matter that requires the Archpriest’s blessing, so it will take at least ten days just for the fabric to arrive.”
“It’s alright.”
The young man lowered his violet eyes and smiled.
The man delivering the news was momentarily speechless, feeling as if the light of thousands of candles converged on his angel-like silver-white hair.
Their great Del Rose was beautiful no matter when one saw him. Moreover, it was hard to believe that he wasn’t related by blood to Ragnar, as the two resembled each other so much.
Perhaps both of them truly were descendants of God. Perhaps that’s why they resembled each other so much, why they were so transcendently beautiful.
The man, who had been blankly staring at Theogrim, shook his head. As if coming to his senses.
Theogrim opened his mouth with a sincerely apologetic expression. It was an expression filled with frankness and humility unbefitting his high status.
It was also the part everyone whispered about with smiles, saying it was a powerful weapon that made everyone love Del Rose.
“I am truly sorry for causing everyone unnecessary trouble. I, um, seem to have lost an important item…”
“That, everyone knows, Del Rose.”
At the man’s words, Theogrim slightly opened his eyes.
The man, reading his expression as if to ask what he meant, scratched the back of his head.
“Well, actually… there’s a body hanging on the main road right now, said to be a prisoner executed by Sir Exion. They say that prisoner stole Del Rose’s cloak…”
“…A prisoner?”
The man, not noticing Theogrim’s voice had sharpened for a moment, continued his report faithfully.
“It’s a man named Rudolfo Raltz, a low-ranking soldier. He’s known for his notoriously bad conduct, but it seems he even committed such a crime.”
Theogrim’s brow twitched inscrutably. The man, interpreting his meaning as he pleased, smiled meekly and said,
“If someone had said it was stolen, Del Rose would have known that a thief would suffer such a fate. He was just unlucky enough to be caught by Sir Exion, so he eventually paid for his crime.”
“……”
“So, don’t blame yourself too much. You don’t have to cover for others so much by saying it was lost. It was handled according to the law.”
“…I understand. Rudolfo Raltz, may he also have had God’s blessing.”
At Theogrim’s calm voice, the man nodded with a loyal expression.
“Then, I shall withdraw.”
“Thank you for your efforts.”
Theogrim smiled faintly. It was a smile that revealed the nobility of a saint, mourning even the death of a heinous criminal who dared to steal his holy relic.
The man, moved by such a noble heart, carefully withdrew.
Thud.
The door closed.
“……”
CRASH!
Suddenly, a violent impact echoed through the holy prayer room.
Precious books and expensive stationery scattered across the marble floor.
Theogrim gasped roughly. He braced his hands on the table he had just swept clean. Still not appeased, he slammed his fists hard onto the marble table.
Then he raised his head. His violet eyes, revealed by the flickering candlelight, were unbelievably cold.
“Rudolfo Raltz?”
Who was that man?
It was a trashy name. He must be a worm-like existence not worth remembering.
But why did that bastard have his cloak?
Why was the cloak he had given to Arzeletta in the hands of some random man… and then.
“Why did that Exion bastard…”
