The Grand Elder had promised to positively review the audience with the Princess.
After he left with his aides...
Clea and I let out sighs of relief in unison.
"Phew..."
I collapsed halfway onto the sofa, my body exhausted.
The diligent Clea sorted through the scattered ledgers on her own and asked,
"Isn't it a bit early to be satisfied? The Elder only said he'd review it."
"That's just how politicians talk."
I lightly shook my empty glass.
The ice inside danced merrily.
"The fact that old lion clinked glasses with me is answer enough."
"True. From the Tax Agency head's reaction, he didn't seem like the type to drink easily with just anyone."
"Same here. I have no idea why people enjoy this stuff."
"...?"
Clea, having finished with the ledgers, gave me a strange look.
Under her puzzled gaze, I replied with my face redder than usual,
"I'm serious. Whenever I get drunk, my memory just cuts out."
I'm the type who wouldn't even notice if someone kidnapped me while plastered.
It's a constitution that didn't improve even in my previous life.
"Then I just need to get you drunk when I don't want to see your face. Thanks for the tip."
"You're joking, right?"
Clea walked past me sprawled on the sofa and tidied up the liquor bottles instead.
She glanced at my flushed face and smirked like an older sister.
"Who knows."
"From that reaction, I guess I need to build up my tolerance. Time to train hard."
I straightened up to shake off the buzz.
"Vice Warden, got time for some sword sparring?"
"If it means I can legally beat my boss, sure."
In the Imperial court, even secretaries need to be skilled in combat.
The woman before me looked like at least a low-grade Sword Expert.
Definitely stronger than your average knight.
She'd make for good practice.
"But can you really beat the Three Great Holy Knights? Your skills don't seem quite there yet."
Clea took off her uniform jacket, her waist cinched tight.
She posed a sharp question.
"One at a time, it's possible. We need to win at that level for the Grand Elder to fully back our prison."
Thanks to my reincarnation perks, I had a body perfect for training.
With dedicated practice, I could hold my own against any knight below Swordmaster.
"With the spy dead, the Holy See will be targeting the prison. We need the Grand Elder as our ironclad shield."
They'd already lost control over the Saintess's watcher, so they'd be desperate.
They might send assassins anytime to dispose of or kidnap her.
If the Saintess rampaged again in the process, this life would end too.
To block all those variables, we needed the Grand Elder's massive protection.
Using one disaster to fend off another.
"That'll take preparations—training, of course, and tournament gear too."
A sense of crisis surged, igniting my urge to grow stronger fast.
Fueled by that passion, we arrived at the small training ground behind the prison.
A cramped space with just a single cabinet.
It made me sigh just looking at it, but it was par for a remote facility like this.
"All the prison's training weapons are in there?"
"Yes. Though you'll just be disappointed."
Clea opened it herself.
Rusty swords came spilling out in a heap.
"Surely the gear for the tournament isn't this bad?"
"Don't most wardens carry their own swords?"
This is insane.
I'd have to head to the capital soon and snag those swords I remembered from my past life at a bargain.
It was a huge waste of time, but no choice.
No matter how much I recovered my skills, crap gear meant no wins.
"We'll practice with these for now, and I'll take a trip in a few days."
With that thought, I picked up a rusty sword.
But at that moment...
Among the spilled swords, one hilt wrapped in silk caught my eye.
It even drew Clea's gaze from afar.
"We must've neglected this training ground for so long, I didn't even know it was here."
I unwrapped the luxurious covering, revealing a sword inside.
A masterwork fit for a renowned house's heir or the Imperial Knight Commander.
'What is this?'
I blinked dumbly.
It didn't belong in this dump of a prison, so I slowly scanned the surroundings.
A landscape filled with eternal snow-capped mountains and dense forests.
Then, my eyes met a wolf watching me from afar.
A peculiar one with red eyes.
It saw me grip the sword, then leisurely retreated into the hills.
"Well, lucky break. Looks like the previous warden left it."
Clea didn't sense anything odd.
Thanks to that, no need to leave the prison.
I'd snagged it in my previous life too—it was a rare gem.
But encountering unexpected luck in this grim world felt strangely off.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Prison first floor corridor.
Grand Elder Dark returned to the cell under the Tax Agency head's escort.
The old noble asked him,
"What do you think of him? Derek Minster."
"Hard to say yet. Honestly, he just seemed like a sly fox full of bluster to me."
"True, he's more ferret than snake. No blood ties or connections like a venomous viper."
"Exactly. I'm not even sure he's worth investing in."
Dark silently sat in the chair.
His eyes fell on the chessboard the new warden had overturned.
"I once led an embassy to the East. They made a big spectacle of animals fighting."
The elder recalled one beast from that day.
A ferocious creature still vivid in his memory.
"A cobra and an anaconda, facing an alligator bigger than themselves."
"A snake beating a gator? Unlikely."
"Right. The cobra's venom didn't pierce the thick hide, so it despaired and got chomped."
The empire's top powerbroker's purple eyes gleamed brightly.
As if reliving that intense memory.
"But the anaconda was different. No venom, yet it tenaciously coiled around the gator's body."
The Grand Elder, who always likened politics to chess.
He eyed the upturned board with interest.
"By the end, that snake had grown massive. Enough to threaten humans."
"Do you see Derek as that kind of being, Elder?"
Dark gazed out the window at the Tax Agency head's question.
At a promising youth sparring with his vice warden in the distant clearing.
"Who knows. That's why we toss him gator-sized bait first."
The elder extended his hand quietly.
The head, grasping the intent, handed over paper and quill.
"Let's expand the board while we're at it. He claimed he could handle it himself."
The Grand Elder signed the missive with a flourish.
"Recommend this duel as an official imperial event. Get all the nearby royals here too."
"Nearby royals... including your niece, Princess Camillia?"
The White Tower Master, Camillia Andalusia.
A powerhouse clashing with the Holy See's forces in the north.
If Derek proved talented in both words and strength, he'd be a huge asset in the power struggle.
"Yes. Let's see if he can withstand it."
The Grand Elder, who hadn't found any entertainment intriguing in ages.
The anaconda in his memory overlapped with one man.
"If it amuses this old man, who knows if it'll catch my niece's interest too?"
Amid the imperial court's intrigues, Camillia had endured a harsh childhood.
At just 23, she trusted no one easily and harbored no youthful dreams.
She rarely warmed to her aides, often suffering heartbreak alone.
Pitying her, the Grand Elder wondered if the man who'd entertained him could help her too.
"You might find him endearing, Elder, but his reckless tongue may not sway the Princess."
The Tax Agency head, dubbed the palace's grim reaper, voiced caution humbly before her ruthlessness.
"Maybe. But to me, the warden didn't seem reckless at all. He looked pleased, like everything was going to plan."
The head pondered the smirking man he'd met today.
Every action had seemed leisurely, as if premeditated.
"You heard too, right? One of the guards here was murdered in the hills recently."
"Yes. I investigated separately but found no evidence of foul play."
The Tax Agency head's eyes grew deadly serious.
Everything he'd ever probed had surfaced easily before.
But this recent case yielded zero clues.
"Exactly. Handled so perfectly even your hounds missed it."
"Worthy of a famed assassin house."
Dark teased his rare failure of a subordinate with a tsk.
Then wore an envious look.
"Not just parental favor. I hear it's the child they put forward."
The Tax Agency head smiled faintly at the hearty laugh he hadn't seen in years from the man soured since his son's scandals.
"Maybe I should've raised my kids rougher too."
The two watched the new warden's duel solemnly.
So did the white crow perched by the window.
It preened its wings with its beak, then flew gracefully to its master.
Sleek legs alighted on pale fingers.
A white-haired woman gently scratched its chin.
"His sword talent from his past life holds true, as expected."
Saintess Anje Renault lay on the bed, her silken hair fanned out.
She listened delightedly to the news from the crow and wolf, her bare feet shifting lightly.
"Good thing I left him a fitting sword."
The sword of the fat corrupt lord she'd incited the people to kill.
Finally, it found a worthy owner.
"And pulling in the Grand Elder to protect me? Commendable."
His efforts for her in this life too.
His most painful memory had been her death.
Recalling the glimpses she'd spied, her red lips curved unwittingly.
"No, I don't fully trust him yet."
Anje pressed a finger to her red lips and bit lightly.
Imagining the ecstasy to come, she closed her eyes softly.
"If he's truly that saint from scripture reborn, he'll show the Knight Commander's prowess. Then I'll believe."
She knew their brutality and violence all too well.
The horrific underground memories chilled her beautiful, merciful face.
"Still... facing three Holy See knights alone will be tough."
Blood droplets fell from the lightly bitten finger.
The red mana spread far.
Into the deep forest no one sought.
Soon, crimson eyes gleamed sinisterly from the darkness.
Beings no ordinary knight would dare subdue.
"In that case, one-on-one is only fair, right?"
Anje smirked decadently, raising her finger.
Toward the northern Holy See.
An unprecedented move, never seen in her past life.