Thud.

The meeting began as a thick stack of documents was thrown down onto the table.

Seated at the head was Siliar Vandyk—the commander of the guard and the one now fully in charge of this matter.

“You’ve already heard from Nobil. I’ve taken over the case of Priest Lawrence’s *ssault.”

Leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, Siliar looked down at those seated below him.

Seated along the long table in order of rank, they were all visibly tense as they watched Siliar.

More precisely, they were studying him.

They could not tell just how serious the situation was, but the severity etched into their commander’s face was enough to unsettle them.

Siliar himself paid little mind to that, though.

To be fair, though, he had been furious. Back at the temple, when he went to hear Lawrence’s testimony—

“The priest says the assailant was a heretic. From this moment on, they are the ones you will be searching for.”

“A heretic, sir?”

One of the guards repeated the word, frowning.

They would obey their commander if he ordered them to, but disbelief was plain in his expression. Low murmurs rippled through the conference room.

“Isn’t heresy under the temple’s jurisdiction?”

“I was under the impression it ended with the purge ten years ago.”

One of the more senior department heads put his hand up and said that, although he hadn’t been directly involved at the time, he clearly remembered what had happened.

He mentioned that the previous commander had taken a particular interest in the matter.

Siliar gave a faint nod, as if to acknowledge that he was already aware of this.

He was familiar with the general outline himself. When he first joined the Guard, he had reviewed the records left behind by his predecessor.

This was why he had not been especially surprised when Lawrence had spoken of heresy. He simply listened, as he always did when hearing the details of a case.

The problem was—

Creak.

—something else entirely.

Siliar ground his teeth and bit down on his lip. The conversation from back then flashed through his mind, and for a moment he almost cursed aloud.

Fortunately, he managed to control his temper. He rose from his seat and said.

“Yes, that was the case. But even if it was called a purge, it wouldn’t have been easy to eliminate them all. There are always those who remain hidden.”

Standing now, Siliar placed both hands on the table. His gaze swept across the guards, sharp enough to cut.

“It may fall under the temple’s authority, but His Majesty has expressed deep concern over this incident. That alone is reason enough for us to act. From this point on, this is what you will do, Nobil.”

He flicked his finger towards Nobil, who was standing nearby.

Nobil placed the box he had been holding on the table at this signal.

Inside was the evidence they had just received from Lawrence.

Inside was a torn fragment of the assailant’s cloak.

Siliar took it out and continued in a voice as cold as his eyes.

“Find the person who made a cloak from this material. Find the person who made it, the person who sold it and the person who purchased and wore it. Find anyone who recognizes the embroidered emblem here. Find them all.”

“What is that emblem?”

“It is the symbol of heresy.”

Siliar pressed his finger hard against the emblem embroidered on the cloak.

The gesture looked almost as though he were grinding it beneath his heel.

“Whoever possesses this is a heretic. I don’t care if you have to search the entire country.”

His lowered gaze was cold.

“So root them out.”

His voice was sharp enough to cut.

The guards flinched and swallowed visibly at the sound of it.

Of course, one of them hesitated and raised an objection.

“Root them out, sir? Not investigate?”

It was the word itself.

The nuance was different.

Even if it was heretical, it was difficult to assume that everyone associated with the item was guilty. Some merchants might have sold it unwittingly. There would be artisans who crafted cloaks without a second thought. Recognizing a symbol did not make someone a criminal.

And yet — root them out.

It sounded as though anyone with any connection to it was already condemned.

“We are not merely searching for the one who assaulted Priest Lawrence. We intend to purge heresy from our side as well.”

“Sir? But wouldn’t that fall under the temple—”

“We will coordinate with the temple on this matter. Heresy is illegal. That alone is sufficient justification for us to act.”

“Then are we to guard the temple as well?”

“That is the Holy Knights’ responsibility. Your task is to find the heretics hidden throughout the capital. That is all.”

Siliar cut off his subordinate’s protest.

He then took a deep breath, as though steadying himself.

As though there were something he had to say.

And there was.

“Some of you will go to the Duke of Vandyk’s residence.”

“Sir? Why there—?”

A nearby guard looked at him in confusion.

They had been discussing heretics, and yet here he was, suddenly named as the destination!

His own home, no less!

Anyone would find that strange.

Siliar, however, appeared outwardly unaffected.

Then again, perhaps he was affected after all. Perhaps he was still forcing his emotions down.

The way his jaw clenched beneath that cold expression suggested as much.

At last, he forced the words out.

“The heretics are not targeting only the priest. My wife is also a target.”

That was the true source of the fury that had been building inside him since earlier.

If it had only irritated him, perhaps it would have been bearable. But when he heard Lawrence utter that sentence, it was as though his blood had turned to ice.

And then—

“Martiana knows as well.”

You told her?

“She was quite shaken.”

Of course she had been shaken. Anyone would be after hearing that they were under threat.

When he first heard the news, he almost grabbed his bedridden brother-in-law by the collar and threw him across the room. He could hardly imagine what Martiana’s face would look like when she returned home.

She was already grieving for the Countess of Pumilum and her child.

It was only natural that his rage would turn entirely towards the heretics.

They had targeted Martiana.

They had failed.

This meant they could try again.

Therefore, Siliar intended to devote all his strength to this matter.

He would uproot even those that had not been torn out ten years ago.

He would show them exactly who they had dared to touch.

“Go. Make sure not even a single rat can approach. Report to me anyone who enters or leaves.”

For your sake, Martiana.

***

“Prepare the flowers with these. And match the color of the tablecloths.”

As Martiana flipped through countless catalogues, she spoke to the butler.

This scene unfolded immediately after her conversation with Drisena a few days earlier, at the moment when she decided to organize the tea party.

Deciding to do so had been one thing. Afterwards, however, she barely had a moment to breathe. With the date on the invitations drawing closer by the day, there was hardly any time left to prepare.

There were far too many details to consider: the venue, the food, and the tableware for the tea party.

At first, Martiana had intended to keep everything modest. But once she started, she realized this would be impossible.

‘It’s been a long time since the House of Vandyk hosted anything.’

There had to be a certain level of formality. It could not be something others could easily criticize.

As those thoughts accumulated one by one, the list of tasks grew mountainous.

And besides—

‘This may be the last time I host something here.’

There was no guarantee that she would still be living in the ducal residence in six months’ time, let alone hosting another gathering.

This could well be the last event she held as duchess.

Martiana did not enjoy lively social gatherings. However, if that was to be her last, she had to make sure that she gave it her all.

It was a matter of courtesy.

She owed it to those who had accepted the invitation and come, as well as to herself as the Duchess.

Although she was destined to relinquish her title, she was still the mistress of the House of Vandyk, if only for now.

Perhaps that meant she was struggling exactly as Drisena had hoped.

‘Still.’

Since she had begun, would it not be best to see it through well?

The tea party—and perhaps even the relationship between them.

“Ah, seat Baroness Basel beside me.”

Scanning the names on the guest list, Martiana instructed the maid arranging the seating.

By etiquette, the baroness would normally be placed somewhere toward the middle of the table, not at Martiana’s side.

‘This time is an exception.’

She had to establish a connection with the woman.

That had been the true purpose of the tea party all along.

She personally disliked the idea of approaching someone with an ulterior motive.

But for now, it was the only option.

If she wanted to find out where Ramelata and the child were, she had to do it.

If they were fellow heretics, there might be some common ground.

Despite her desire to find them, Martiana had no leads whatsoever.

That much had been confirmed last night when Melissa relayed Tapnad’s message.

“We confirmed the carriage headed toward the city district, but after that, the trail vanished.”

When she returned to her room after speaking with Drisena, she found that Tapnad had arrived with Melissa and handed over the report.

Since receiving her request, he had been searching relentlessly for Ramelata. However, other than spotting the carriage at the edge of the city, he had made no progress.

“Was there truly no trace at all?”