The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 93

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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 93
I rolled my body sideways while still lying down, propping my chin on my hand.
“Tell me honestly—are you worried I might actually go through with marrying the Grand Duke?”
I asked it teasingly, but Arden simply looked down at me with a perfectly composed expression.
Most people would have faltered at such a probe, or at least offered a reflexive denial out of politeness. But this man was nothing if not consistent.
“It does not appear that Your Holiness desires the position of Grand Duchess in this barren northern territory.”
His voice remained steady and measured.
“I was merely curious why the contract left the duration blank.”
“Because it’s impossible to estimate how long it will take. There’s no way around making the timeframe conditional.”
I gestured with my fingers as though writing invisible text in the air.
“For instance: Kroen the Grand Duke protects Saint Ciela Nomendis from unjust pressure to marry, until such time as she secures actual authority within the Temple. Something like that?”
Arden listened to my explanation without interruption.
“By leaving the duration blank like this, neither the Grand Duke can wash his hands of it if Raum disappears, nor can I if I seize control of the Temple.”
“You’ve ensured that neither party’s obligations end with the other’s single achievement.”
“Precisely.”
I nodded.
“The moment you set conditions, it becomes an unfair contract for one side. Both the Grand Duke and I understood that.”
Say you write that the contract ends the instant Raum is dealt with—then the Grand Duke could simply break the betrothal and slip away once the Raum problem is resolved.
Or write that it ends the moment I seize control of the Temple—then I could conveniently gloss over the Greater Demon problem in the Grand Duchy Territory and wash my hands clean.
That way, the contract becomes not an alliance but a time bomb, each side waiting for the chance to stab the other in the back.
So the duration stays blank. Instead, we’ve bound the objectives and obligations broadly.
That way, neither of us can easily slip free, yet we’re not strangling each other either.
Arden fell silent for a moment, his gaze lowered as though he were thinking.
It seemed he was quite skilled at gathering information, but genuinely hopeless at politics and strategic maneuvering.
Though had he been adept at such things, that would have been frightening in its own way. Even now he seemed suspicious enough; if he could also sniff out the hidden traps in a contract with uncanny precision, my wariness would have deepened considerably.
I found myself suddenly recalling a scene I’d witnessed in the Demon Realm.
The moment when blood-red Demonic Energy came surging like a wave, and the Consecrated blade had split it cleanly in two.
“By the way, can all Holy Knights cut through Demonic Energy?”
The sudden question made Arden look up.
“No. It’s impossible unless one has fought demons extensively.”
Apparently Arden had no backing and simply cycled through demon raids for survival. Rather than a Holy Knight refined through internal Temple politics like Johan, he was one of those who’d moved from crisis to crisis in the dirtiest, most dangerous front lines.
That’s how he’d learned to wield a blade that could cut through Demonic Energy.
Five hundred years was time enough for Valente’s technique to have been passed on to someone.
“You must have endured much.”
“It is a Holy Knight’s calling.”
I stared at him for a moment while resting my chin, then let out a light laugh.
“Well, I did survive thanks to you, so I suppose I owe you my thanks.”
Arden was silent for a moment, then inclined his head.
“I am grateful to have been of service to Your Holiness.”
After a good rest, the next day my Temple observers—Johan and the rest—came pouring into my chamber.
“Your Holiness, you cannot continue to remain in the castle like this.”
Johan came straight at me with his demands. To them, it appeared I was simply sitting idle in Kroen’s Grand Duchy Castle, doing nothing at all.
“You must decide: either return to the main Temple, or patrol the territories to root out corrupted places.”
“Yes, yes.”
I yawned lazily and rose from the bed. I pointed at one person standing among my attendant priests and gave an order.
“You there—drape a cloak over my shoulders.”
An attendant priest approached carefully, took the cloak Arden had brought, and draped it gracefully across my shoulders, fastening it neatly with a brooch.
I waited for the moment her hands were about to withdraw, then caught them firmly.
“Now that I think of it, you have a scar on your hand.”
The attendant’s shoulders stiffened. Along her ring finger where my hand held hers, a clear scar traced across two knuckles. Knowing what it was, the mark seemed far too conspicuous.
I made a show of wiping away tears with my other hand, lowering my lashes.
“I’ve been too thoughtless. How can I claim to watch over the world with a loving gaze when I fail to notice even those close by? I shall heal that scar for you.”
“That’s not necessary, Your Holiness…!”
The attendant shook her head urgently in refusal. I smiled with utmost gentleness and refused her refusal.
“No, please don’t decline. The Holy Power needed to erase a single scar is nothing—mere dust.”
At those words, the attendant’s face went pale. She struggled desperately to pull her hand free from my grip.
But it was hopeless. If she thought a Saint would have weak grip strength, she was sorely mistaken. The memory of my previous life—swinging a Mace against Greater Demons and even the Demon King itself—still lingered in my body.
“Why do you resist?”
I spoke as though I didn’t know, and tightened my grip even further.
“One healing spell, and that scar on your hand will vanish completely.”
In that instant, the attendant priest’s eyes changed. They were the eyes of a trapped beast.
She thrust her free hand into her robes. The next moment, a silver dagger flashed toward my throat.
But the dagger never reached me—it was deflected in midair.
Ching!
Arden’s blade had struck it away. The dagger tumbled across the floor with a screech, and Johan reflexively kicked it further aside.
The moment Arden moved to shield me, Johan slammed the attendant priest—no, the Imperial Secret Knight Order member—brutally to the ground and wrenched her arm behind her back.
Johan’s face was twisted with rage. It wasn’t the anger of an exposed infiltrator, but something darker—fury at a spy who had dared to nest within the Temple itself.
Who would have thought the day would come when Johan seemed the more reasonable one?
“Your Highness, are you unharmed!”
Arden, shielding me with his entire body, bellowed.
“An assassination attempt on the Saint!”
At his cry, the door burst open. The Grand Duchy’s knights poured in as if they’d been waiting for this very signal.
Kroen himself appeared not long after, summoned by the commotion.
Johan immediately pressed his claim.
“This woman masqueraded as Temple staff to assassinate Her Highness. She must be handed over to the Temple for judgment.”
But the Duke simply dismissed the argument with utter calm.
“An assassination attempt that occurred within my castle.”
He gestured to his knights.
“Take her to the Underground Dungeon.”
“Your Grace!”
“Johan.”
The Duke smiled gently.
“If you wish to preserve the Temple’s dignity, it would be better not to cause further disturbance here.”
In the end, the Imperial Secret Knight Order member was dragged away to Kroen’s Underground Dungeon. The Duke would certainly extract every piece of information she possessed.
I lay back in bed, claiming the assassination attempt had left me shaken.
Shaken, nonsense. If anything, I was in good spirits—a perfect piece had fallen neatly into the Duke’s hands, exactly as I’d hoped.
Arden stood quietly beside me. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, something occurred to me, and I asked.
“By the way, Arden.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Your family’s founder was the Hero, wasn’t he? Then the Holy Sword is currently being kept by the Hawelin Family?”
Arden fell silent for a moment.
“Even we who are his descendants do not know the Holy Sword’s whereabouts.”
“Really?”
I turned my body slightly to look at him.
“You won’t tell me either?”
“I cannot speak of what I do not know.”
“But haven’t we gotten quite close? Or was that only my imagination?”
When I asked playfully, Arden let out a soft laugh.
“The Third Saint herself once tried to claim the Holy Sword from our family, but our ancestor chose to ascend to heaven without revealing its location, so the Temple was ultimately unable to recover it. Does that answer suffice?”
Hmm. I’d assumed Valente had simply sealed his lips about family matters to his nephew, but had he truly hidden it away even from him?
“Later, when I saw the Mace that the Third Saint placed in the Inquisition Chamber, I came to understand that our ancestor made the right choice. Had he not, the Holy Sword would surely be standing beside it even now.”
“Why would the Third Saint deliberately place the Holy Sword next to Wilson?”
I shook my head in denial. That sword was the only legitimate trace of Valente I could possess, and I’d intended to take it to my grave.
Arden stared at me in bewilderment.
“……How do you know that name?”

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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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