Chapter 126

The place Justina led Lionel to was cleverly out of sight, as if they’d slipped away from the ballroom. Yet her expression was full of deep worry, so Lionel followed the nun’s seriousness and cleared his throat.

“Hmm, so. Why did you want to meet me so badly, even asking your brother for help?”

“To ask something only you can answer, Your Grace.”

“It has to be me? Why?”

Justina sighed in front of Lionel’s light tone. She looked at him with earnest eyes.

“Do you remember Lieutenant Batis? Albert Batis, the eldest son of Marquis Batis.”

Lionel immediately recalled Lieutenant Batis’s face, but he simply watched Justina in silence.

Now, he understood.

Why this nun, who had left her noble family for the Ensila Order, so desperately wanted to meet him.

“You were his fiancée, weren’t you?”

At Lionel’s dry question, Justina nodded as if she’d been waiting for it. Her desperate gesture made Lionel’s heart even heavier.

“Yes. Did Albert ever mention me to you?”

“Sometimes.”

“I see. He thought of me even in hardship, then. I thought he’d forgotten me since his letters stopped coming…”

“Never.”

Lionel tried to smile lightly, but couldn’t lift the corners of his mouth. In truth, talking about Lieutenant Batis with her was painful.

Justina’s fiancé, Albert Batis, had died two years ago in the Flandor Battle.

Quite some time had passed, but Justina spoke of those days as if they’d happened recently. As if her fiancé were still alive somewhere in the world.

Without noticing Lionel’s stiff expression, Justina spoke gently.

“Lady Batis visited Moerven last summer, I heard. She went to see your portrait at the art museum… She steeled herself, but ended up lamenting that she couldn’t keep her composure.”

Ah, could it be…

Lionel vaguely recalled what Melanie Bouvier had told him.

<Some marchioness even asked about purchasing it, so that says it all.>

So the marchioness who wanted to buy his portrait was Lady Batis.

Thinking she’d seen that painting made Lionel’s chest ache. It couldn’t have been a cheerful image for the family of a fallen soldier.

“So, is that why you came to see me? To check if I remember Lieutenant Batis?”

Justina finally noticed Lionel’s gaze had darkened. She spoke again, calmly like a nun.

“Among Albert’s belongings, there was a diary from the battlefield. I read it so many times I memorized it, and your name appeared often, Your Grace.”

“What did he…”

“He said you were brave, fun, and a good man.”

It was a kind remark, but Lionel still couldn’t smile. Justina looked up at his troubled face and asked,

“Your Grace, what was Albert’s final moment like?”

“You already know.”

“All I know is he had a head wound. I couldn’t attend his funeral; I collapsed as soon as I heard the news.”

Justina looked down in regret. The guilt of not being able to be there for her beloved lingered in her eyes.

“Your Grace, was Albert in much pain on the battlefield?”

“Everyone was, then.”

“Even at the moment of death…?”

Lionel carefully chose his words. He didn’t want to share all the details with Justina, who would carry the wound for life.

Captain Lionel received a military medal for his heroic actions in the Flandor Battle—a fierce, half-year-long campaign for northern territorial expansion.

<Reinforcements won’t come.>

He’d heard that phrase dozens of times. The sky over the Flandor Plain was dark, and sleet fell every day. It was winter, nights were long, supplies had been cut off, and constant gunfire meant no one could sleep.

<When will the enemy come to kill us?>

Hunger, insomnia, and cold made death seem appealing. Survivors responded to bullets, but it was just a habit. Deep down, everyone wished—

If a cannonball destroyed this place, let it be painless. If possible, let it happen while asleep, in an instant.

<We won’t be able to return, will we?>

Albert Batis was not a weak man. At twenty-one, he’d volunteered as a noble officer and was an excellent marksman, killing many enemies from his first battle.

That’s why he could see them.

<I wish I hadn’t shot anyone… I’m sorry, I was wrong…>

Those were Lieutenant Batis’s last words. One night, as his mental state rapidly deteriorated, he shot himself in the head.

Right in front of Captain Lionel.

“He passed without pain.”

Lionel looked at Justina with calm eyes and lied.

“A bullet from the enemy happened to hit his head. But Lieutenant Batis fought bravely to the end—proudly, with honor.”

That was what he’d reported to headquarters. If the lieutenant’s s*icide had caused defeat, he couldn’t have lied as a captain.

But his death didn’t affect the outcome. So Lionel covered up the truth.

It made things easier for everyone—Lady Batis who visited the portrait in tears, Justina who became a nun after losing her fiancé.

There was no need for more unhappiness.

“As written on his gravestone, he was a fine soldier. Please remember him that way.”

Listening quietly, Justina’s eyes widened as she realized something.

“You visited Albert’s grave.”

“I just made a round after receiving my medal. I visited those I remembered.”

“…Thank you.”

Justina sincerely thanked him and held Lionel’s large hand in both of hers.

As Ensila nuns do for believers, she lifted his hand to her forehead and quietly recited a prayer.

“May only your footsteps remain on the path we’ve traveled, may your way ahead be smooth and shadowless.”

It was Lionel’s first blessing from an Ensila nun, so he didn’t know how to react. As soon as Justina let go, he withdrew his hand.

She looked up at him with gentle, pure eyes like Jeremy’s.

“So, where will you go now, Your Grace? His Holiness the Pope is at Genoa’s First Chapel.”

“I have to see His Highness the Crown Prince. That’s my last appointment today.”

“Oh, I see. I thought you’d meet His Holiness since you went to the palace yesterday.”

The Valentin Duchy wasn’t particularly close to the Order. Lionel tilted his head, puzzled.

“Well, there’s no reason for His Holiness to meet me. Unfortunately, I haven’t lived very devoutly.”

“But shouldn’t you discuss cathedral construction?”

“Cathedral? That’s Earl Crowley’s domain’s business, isn’t it?”

When he asked, Justina tilted her head this time.

“Is it? But the Valentin Duchy is closely involved…”

“How so?”

Justina carefully studied the duke’s clueless reaction, then smiled.

“Your Grace, you don’t know why the new cathedral is being built?”

She kindly explained, as if to repay him for answering her difficult question.

“The reason the Order wants to build a new cathedral is…”

* * *

“Recently, the relics of Saint Dimitri were discovered. I was at the excavation site, too.”

With swift hands, Maxim sketched as he muttered.

Clarette, who had been chatting with him, looked up from her canvas in surprise.