One of the commanders who had been waiting for Aaron’s fierce momentum to break finally voiced opposition.

“The fact that they have set up camp rather than retreating means they have sufficient resources to defend. Our forces are outnumbered, and if we make a wrong move, we could suffer a crushing defeat.”

“So you want to continue wasting time here?”

As Aaron coldly retorted, Gorenzo, unable to stand by any longer, pounded the table.

“Enough. We’re putting our heads together to break this stalemate, so let’s all calm down. For now, let’s place great significance on having maintained our defensive line.”

“The more we disperse our forces, the more disadvantageous it becomes for us. Launching a preemptive strike would consume far fewer resources than waiting indefinitely.”

“I understand, Lord Artnal.”

Gorenzo patted Aaron’s back, who commanded the gathering with his unrivaled intimidating presence.

As if to say he understood Aaron’s urgency, but he should first catch his breath.

“The longer the wait, the more morale decreases and provisions are consumed on their side as well. My opinion is that we need to approach this more cautiously now.”

The meeting returned to square one.

Though it showed signs of continuing for a long time, no one appeared tired.

As opinions clashed more intensely, Aaron was determined to resolve the matter today and set about persuading the others.

How long they had been mired in this stagnant time was unclear when Gorenzo’s direct subordinate rushed into the tent.

“Reporting, sir!”

“What is it?”

“A patient with a rash has appeared in the infirmary.”

The commanders’ eyes immediately flew to the subordinate.

Everyone’s eyes were filled with questions about why a rash would suddenly appear on someone being treated for battle wounds.

They all became alert, sensing that if it were a simple rash, there wouldn’t be such a commotion.
Aaron frowned and asked:

“Are you saying there’s an epidemic?”

“…Yes, sir. The military doctor said there’s no cure, so for now, the infirmary must be sealed off and the patient isolated.”

That was certainly the obvious response, but the problem was that the strategy meeting they had been conducting would become useless.

The king’s secret order to conquer Mrangel would have to be extended indefinitely.

Aaron, who had been obsessed with annihilating the enemy, suppressed his excitement. Truly, nothing was going right.

Anger rose to the top of his head, but there was nothing he could do.

Not only could they not fight, but their own forces were likely to die from the epidemic.

Aaron’s voice had already cooled down.

“Let’s call for a truce.”

“A truce… you say?”

Everyone seemed reluctant, but no one dared argue for continuing the battle.

The person most troubled by this situation where they could neither advance nor retreat was Gorenzo.

As the commander of the allied forces, the reality of having to make such a crucial decision was incredibly difficult.

It would be good if he had the luxury to deliberate, but even that wasn’t possible.

Once an epidemic begins to spread, it becomes uncontrollable and reaches a point where
nothing can be done.

If this news reached Mrangel’s ears, they would immediately advance.

Aaron emphasized again:

“Given the circumstances, we must plan for the future. It would be better to strengthen the border defenses and withdraw. Of course… we must first establish a truce agreement.”

That was what galled him.

To appease Mrangel before they attacked, they would have to cede at least some of Echorn’s territory.

Yet if they charged in ignorantly, both armies would have to fight prepared for mutual destruction.

But Aaron had something he believed in.

Lucilia had said that when she read the leader’s thoughts, he was clearly thinking of Echorn. So he would certainly agree to the treaty.

Aaron placed his sword on the table, expressing his determination to end reckless fighting.

“Let’s look at this coldly. We have no chance of winning like this. Let’s give what we must give and protect what we must protect.”

Low curses erupted from the commanders’ mouths.

It was an unusually long night.

* * *

On the road to the temple.

Ension’s face was heavily clouded. He grumbled as he escorted Lucilia’s carriage.

“Where has that rat-like bastard hidden himself? Not even a glimpse of him anywhere.”

Lucilia, looking out at Ension through the open window, comforted him with a subtle smile.

“If he’s hidden this thoroughly, he must be under the protection of someone important.”

“Ah… that’s highly likely.”

“He’ll return on his own when orders come down from the Pope. Still, thanks to Sir Willar gathering the merchants’ support, things have become much easier. I’m very grateful.”

Unaccustomed to compliments, Ension scratched his head with an awkward smile. He replied in a rough tone:

“Everyone clicked their tongues when they heard that a so-called priest had fled, abandoning his soldiers. Well, it would be stranger not to be disappointed. Didn’t he hide in the prayer room and refuse to come out even when Mrangel forces invaded Tudra and caused chaos before? That’s why it was easy to persuade them.”

“Thanks to that, word of the priest’s vile nature quickly spread to people’s ears. You’ve worked hard.”

“Haha. Hard work? I didn’t do much…”

Ension was frustrated at not being able to grab the priest by the collar. So he dedicated himself to Aaron’s secret orders.

Somehow, they needed to occupy the temple from their side. That would give Kite a chance to infiltrate and block the priest’s access.

That’s why Lucilia was going to the temple as the acting lord.

The carriage bearing the baron’s crest moved forward at a steady pace.

The assistant priest frowned as soon as he saw Lucilia arrive without warning. Far from welcoming her, his wariness was evident.

He must have heard rumors about the witch, so it was understandable.

Lucilia maintained her composure and wore a subtle smile on her lips.

“What brings you…”

“I hear Priest Michael’s whereabouts are uncertain?”

“Is that why you’ve exposed the priest’s faults so nakedly? Because of that, the temple’s authority has been thrown to the ground!”

The assistant priest’s face flushed red and blue.

It was unclear why he was venting his anger at an innocent person when someone else was at fault.

As this wasn’t unexpected, Lucilia countered with composure:

“Why are you complaining to me? I’m visiting to try to restore that authority.”

“How do you mean?”

“The person who lowered the temple’s authority was not me, but Priest Michael. The temple shouldn’t be dragged down by the sins of one priest.”

“…”

“Rumors breed more rumors, and then speculation runs rampant. Eventually, sinister words become truth. How about closing the temple until the priest’s whereabouts are determined? Our private soldiers will guard the temple without any gaps.”

“Even so, that’s a bit…”

“It will be fine if we give an appropriate reason. How about repairing the inside of the temple? When I saw it before, the ceiling mural seemed cracked… If there are cracks, it’s dangerous for the believers too, isn’t it?”

“Hmm… well…”

“We will cover the repair costs. It seems like the Lord of Tudra and the temple are joining forces to prepare for a new tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

Lucilia added that she hoped to seize an opportunity for internal renewal while outwardly restoring the temple’s authority.

Using “temple repairs” as the tool, she said.

The assistant priest was already in a difficult position as townspeople, led by merchants, had gathered to question the priest’s crimes.

He would prefer guidance from higher authorities, but with no word from them, he didn’t know what to do.

The assistant priest decided to leave the aftermath to the Lord of Artnal and follow Lucilia’s suggestion.

* * *

The priest, who had fled to a monastery that was one of the Pope’s bases rather than returning to Tudra, was continuously gulping down wine in his private quarters.

He rubbed his hollow eyes and grumbled:

“When will they ever reply? Tsk!”

As soon as he arrived, he had secretly contacted the Pope.

There were plenty of the Pope’s subordinates here, so if they wanted to, they could get a response within days.

Judging by the lack of news so far, it seemed the Pope was quite angry about this incident.

He needed to know the whereabouts of Mannea and Bonizella to explain to the Pope, but being unable to do so was frustrating.

Perhaps he would be expelled as things stood. The priest recalled the Pope’s cunning voice:

“Even if she has no holy power, it still bothers me. Injuries on the battlefield are all too common, so pluck out that woman’s eyes.”

Once more, the red liquid rushed down his throat impatiently.

“Did they handle it properly or not? If they failed, they should report the failure!”

He couldn’t know the situation of not only the nuns but also the volunteers.

“Perhaps I should have watched a bit longer.”

Belated regret washed over him, wondering if he had fled too early.