The Fake Saintess Awaits Her Exit

If the encounter with the saint was real, the noble pride of the Order of Templars would have been shattered.

“If I give it a try, who knows if I’ll win?”

That’s what Leon had thought, but the saint’s attitude had changed, and even the behavior of the commander of the Order had changed. Leon’s instincts shouted that these two things were intertwined.

While Leon was contemplating Latvan, a subordinate who was organizing documents spoke up.

“Well, she must have played with the young men and princesses in the palace quite often. It seems like it’s time to set our sights on the saint. From what I hear, she’s considered second to the empire in terms of beauty alone.”

“I’m not someone who judges based on appearances.”

That was true. Leon didn’t dislike beautiful women. However, he preferred interesting women. And if they were dangerous, even better.

What kind of woman was the saint? Leon fell into deep thought. If he gathered all the information brought by his informants… a foolish and promiscuous saint would be very different from his taste.

Disguised with a fake identity, Leon accompanied the diplomatic mission. Since he had moved separately and didn’t reveal his face, very few people knew that he was joining the delegation heading to the temple.

After arriving at the temple, Leon acted to carry out the emperor’s orders. He gained a few things, but nothing particularly special. In the end, Leon thought that he had to take matters into his own hands.

“I must meet the commander of the Order of Templars.”

However, Leon couldn’t openly move with the diplomatic mission. Among the diplomats from various countries, many knew Leon’s face. And a significant number of them would want to draw their swords as soon as they saw him. But that wasn’t the biggest problem.

“You won’t be providing security?”

“That’s correct. The informants confirmed it. Someone else will be in charge of protecting the saint this year.”

“Well…”

Leon inwardly whistled. Somehow, he had to make Latvan come out of the Order of Templars. If he continued to provoke his pride a few more times…

“It seems his pride needs to be hurt a few more times.”

It would be convenient to completely alienate him from the temple. With that in mind, Leon turned his gaze toward the saint. He couldn’t wound the commander of the Order of Templars with ordinary people. Using the saint, whom he was the only one to obey, would be the quickest and most reliable method.

“The saint, right? I heard she replaces men every night.”

One of Leon’s observant subordinates answered.

“It seems she quite likes men with blond hair and blue eyes.”

“Fortunately. The saint should take a liking to me.”

Everyone raised their heads at Leon’s playful remark. They hadn’t expected to be tasked with pushing the crown prince onto the saint, they thought.

“But before that, I’d like to see the saint once.”

“If that’s the case, attending the prayer meeting seems to be the fastest way.”

After hearing the explanation about the prayer meeting from his subordinate, Leon decided to make things a little more interesting.

Even Leon himself found his appearance repulsive. People distanced themselves from him due to the appearance that seemed to be covered in skin diseases and the stench emanating from the intentionally worn stable clothes. Despite being finely crafted, the flaw of the fake skin couldn’t deceive even the eyes. However, as long as everyone kept their distance like this, no one would notice anything strange about him.

“I should put on a play today.”

Intentionally digging through the crowd, he positioned himself at the spot where the saint would pass by. It was time for the blessing prayer, and the saint would pass by him.

“I might not be able to touch her, but I might as well demand her presence.”

Considering everything he had heard about the saint so far, the likelihood was overwhelming. Should he act as if he had been pushed aside by the crowd, pretending to be a poor old man at his last breath, clutching onto the hem of her clothing? While contemplating such thoughts, Leon looked toward the entrance upon hearing that the saint had appeared.

“Huh?”

A spontaneous gasp escaped my lips as a figure stood before me, instantly recognizable even without a word spoken. It was Sir Latvan, the valiant commander of the Holy Knights.

“Surely, I heard he does not provide protection,” I muttered under my breath.

However, there was no doubt that the man standing alongside the maiden was none other than Latvan himself. With an impassive countenance, he held the maiden’s hand, offering her his escort. Leon averted his gaze, his attention drawn to the hands that held the maiden’s. He observed Latvan’s rough, calloused hand against the fair skin of the maiden, treasuring it with an unspoken tenderness.