Sister-in-law of the Heroine in a Childcare Novel - Chapter 71

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 71

“Fire!”
When Cronen heard that shout, he thought it was a misunderstanding. Or even if it wasn’t, he assumed it couldn’t be anything serious.
At worst, some apprentice Priest had spilled kindling in the kitchen and panicked when it spread a little too far.
The Southern Region was a prosperous city. The weather was mild. Droughts never lingered long, so wildfires were rare. Besides, the Temple was built of stone, not timber. In fact, since its founding, the Temple had never suffered major damage from fire.
True, he’d heard recently of some fuss at the Imperial Palace about the Rose Palace catching fire, but wasn’t that just Lisianthus — temperamental as always — starting a scene while quarreling with the Princess?
By now, Lisianthus himself was likely far away, dispatched on some errand by his own men. And even if those men were acting on his behalf against the Princess, they wouldn’t resort to such clumsy, full-of-holes methods.
Bang, bang! Someone pounded on Cronen’s door. He opened it without bothering to hide his irritation.
“What is it? I said not to disturb me!”
A Priest who’d clearly come running in haste fumbled over his words as he faced him.
“Ah— uh— Priest Cronen, sir, you must evacuate! The fire, it—!”
“What in the world is this? Evacuate? How bad is the fire that you’d say such a thing?”
“While everyone was praying… the fire started near the room where the Sacred Objects are kept….”
“Who goes in and out of that room such that fire would start? And it’s not even close to the Dedication Ceremony, so there aren’t only Priests in the Temple — surely someone would’ve noticed before it got this large? And a sacred house of the gods catching fire makes no sense whatsoever!”
Cronen found himself denying reality aloud before suddenly snapping to his senses. The flames sounded severe. He could hear people crying out in alarm from a distance.
“Divine One, are You abandoning us?”
“The Dedication Ceremony is only days away…!”
“Water! Fetch water!”
“Call more people!”
“Cr— Cronen, Priest sir, where are you?”
“E— Everyone, attend to your assigned duties! I… I need to assess the situation!”
“Priest?”
Cronen gave a rough reply to the searching voices and slammed his door shut.
Then he hastily gathered the valuables in his room. The ledgers of bribes he’d received over the years, the dealings he’d done with the Empress, the schemes he’d helped Marjid arrange — evidence he’d kept for his own protection.
He’d never imagined such a situation, so his hands trembled.
Ordinarily, Cronen’s room was almost never opened to outsiders. Even those within the Temple didn’t venture near it. Cronen was meticulous enough to clean his own quarters himself to avoid trouble. Some apprentice Priests had even been thrown out for merely lingering near his door, so everyone took care to stay away.
Which meant he had to carry this outside — the very thought made his head spin.
Damn it. If I’d known, I would’ve cleaned this up long ago. Cronen haphazardly shoved papers and objects into a box, then wrenched his door open, breathing hard.
Under normal circumstances, he would’ve made excuses or composed himself, ever mindful of others’ eyes. But in this extreme moment, no such thoughts came to him.
Struggling under a box barely the size of a small child, he stepped into a hallway thick with acrid smoke.
Cronen’s mind spun.
“Priest Cronen! Where are you?”
Damn it. He’d clearly told them to focus on their own tasks. By now they should be handling everything themselves. Yet they kept calling for him at every turn!
It was natural to seek the person in charge during an emergency, but Cronen had no mental space for such thoughts.
While Cronen controlled most of the power in this Temple, his second-in-command, Silencio, harbored ambitions that were not to be underestimated.
If any of the Temple’s inner circle saw what was in the bag, it would be dangerous. If word of this reached Silencio’s ears, he would find some way to learn the contents and use it to push Cronen aside.
A deal with the Empress? Silencio would snap that up in an instant! The connections he’d cultivated with Marjid would become worthless!
Most of the apprentice Priests had been sent to the Temple not out of pure faith, but because their families wanted something. As anxiety clawed at him, Cronen looked about frantically and spotted a boy at the end of the corridor, pale as death.
His clothes were noticeably shabby. A shirt so worn even apprentices wouldn’t wear it, trousers riddled with holes. He trembled as he gripped a small handcart as if it were his lifeline, and it was packed with scented candles made specially for use in the Dedication Ceremony.
Scented candles? But we should’ve already received all the candles for the Dedication Ceremony… wait!
A bell chimed in Cronen’s mind.
Candles were luxury goods. Especially when made carefully with beeswax and carved with various ornaments, their price rose to something only nobles could afford.
Since Mana Stones became widespread, candles had fallen out of fashion, but the Dedication Ceremony was such an ancient rite that tradition demanded candlelight.
As Cronen’s taste ran to fine scents, when ordering candles for the Dedication Ceremony, he’d discreetly included some for his personal use.
He’d done this every year, but this year he’d remembered at the last moment that there was a new shop making candles infused with exotic fragrances, so he’d placed a separate order there.
To the eye, they looked no different from other candles, and since Cronen managed them directly, no one else had noticed.
Since Cronen had chosen the shop himself, the other Priests in the Temple would never catch sight of them.
After organizing his thoughts, Cronen called out loudly.
“You there!”
“Y-yes, um, my lord?”
An ignorant wretch who doesn’t even know how to address a Priest.
Outside workers who came and went from the Temple called everyone they encountered “Priest, sir.” Occasionally a bad-tempered Priest would pick a quarrel, saying something like “I’m no nobleman, and the Temple transcends worldly rank — why do you call me ‘my lord’?”
So this one was a common laborer who knew nothing of proper etiquette!
Cronen’s mind eased.
“Take this box to your shop for now. When I give the word, you’ll bring it back.”
“Y-yes, but—?”
“You came through the back entrance, didn’t you? There’s a fire at the Temple now, so this isn’t the time to receive the candles. I’ll contact you later. Go home.”
Then he fished into his pocket and pressed a gold coin into the boy’s hand. The boy stared at it and shuddered with shock.
“Remember this well! Don’t let anyone else know. You’re entrusted with precious ceremonial candles — you must keep them safe. If you don’t, disaster will befall both your shop and you.”
“Y-yes, yes, of course!”
The boy bowed and scraped repeatedly, slipping the gold coin into his pocket. Without delay, he pushed the handcart with the box aboard and disappeared.
Once the boy was out of sight, Cronen let himself relax and shouted loudly.
“What’s happening? I’m here!”
“Oh thank heaven, Priest Cronen! You must come at once!”
“Priest! The Princess, Your Highness—!”
This was the Temple, after all. A few injuries were of no consequence.
He’d heard the fire had spread to the room where the Sacred Objects were kept, but they were Sacred Objects. Surely a mere flame couldn’t affect them.
So when it occurred to Cronen that he’d successfully evacuated the weakness, he felt relieved. Without hesitation, he moved toward the front of the Temple where the Priests were calling for him, but—
He was met with a sight beyond imagination.
“Sob, sobbing— I deserve to die, I must die!”
“Please, Your Highness!”
“Compose yourself!”
“This is not Your Highness’s fault!”
…The Princess was wailing and rolling on the ground.
Those around her, apparently her attendants, held her limbs.
Even Castrain’s second son, usually so irritable, was visibly flustered, frantically trying to soothe the Princess.
What in the world was happening?
Confronted with this unimagined scene, Cronen froze. Silencio, usually so composed, approached him with uncharacteristic urgency and whispered in his ear.
“The fire spread far worse than expected. We’re managing as best we can, but the storehouse, the ceremonial chamber for the Dedication Ceremony, and the backup chamber are all completely burned. And most critically….”
Cronen’s face went deathly pale. Silencio watched his reaction and continued.
“…That sword. The one that saved the Imperial Palace from the Magic Beast horde. That legendary Holy Sword. Her Highness the Princess….”
At that moment, the Princess struck the ground with her palms and let out a heartbreaking cry.
Cronen questioned his own sanity.
Was this really happening? Wasn’t she the Princess who’d sat quietly with that tight-lipped, shrewd expression?
He’d thought, “Even if she’s treated poorly, she can’t even voice a single complaint — I suppose she knows her place,” observing her silent composure.
“Oh no, oh no! I was nearly burned to death while bathing! How can such a thing happen! Someone stole the sword while I was washing! Oh! In the Temple, I—!”
“…You lost it, Your Highness.”
Silencio’s voice had grown small. Cronen was speechless — more than speechless, his head throbbed with tension.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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