Chapter 39
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“Your Eminence’s ritual was the very picture of perfection. It was as if the manifestation of Erios was unfolding before our very eyes.”
“Thanks to the grace bestowed by Sir Ruasil, the Valencha Empire will know peace.”
Ruasil accepted the praises directed at him with a supremely holy smile, while quickening his busy steps. It was to conceal the e******n straining threateningly against the thick layers of his white ceremonial robes.
He had been in this state for the entire five days of the Erios festival. His sacred heart belonged to Erios, but his fallen lower body belonged to Kinamun. Grabbing and shaking his stubbornly persistent e******n was useless.
He knew all too well that there was no way to calm the throbbing hardness except to bury his c**k in the insatiable hole of that woman and pour an endless stream of purifying energy into her. That was the problem. The fact that there was no other way.
Ruasil had almost thrown aside his duties and dignity as the High Priest and run straight to Drémoor Castle. While there were women everywhere who revered and desired him, ready to lift their skirts whenever he called, he felt no lust for them. The mere brush of a Child of Erios’s fingertips made nausea churn within him. Even the act of bestowing blessings upon them, as he usually did, brought him no joy.
Only Sylvia.
Only the bell of the evil god Kinamun, the princess of a fallen kingdom—only towards her was his flesh drawn.
And what drove him mad wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’t have her.
“Your Eminence.”
A shadow from the temple approached him as he sat in his office chair. Ruasil spoke first.
“Did he go again yesterday?”
“Yes. He entered the castle two hours ago today as well.”
“Continue the surveillance.”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
As the shadow departed, Ruasil’s flawless, smooth face contorted violently. A damp, sinister light flickered in his blue pupils.
Another man was frequenting Sylvia’s bedroom.
The Crown Prince of the Empire, Kallist de Valencha.
The man who was second only to the Emperor in the Empire, and the most troublesome for Ruasil to deal with.
If it had been any other man—especially if it had been any other prince—he would have used the pretext of blasphemy to throw him into the temple’s underground prison, force him to take a d**g that severs virility, and let him live out his life as a eunuch.
No, no. That wouldn’t be enough. After fully stoking the frustration of his dead manhood, he’d throw him into a stable with mares in heat or a pigsty…
‘Goodness, what am I thinking?’
He barely managed to rein in his runaway thoughts and shook his head roughly. He was cunning by nature, but he wasn’t a cruel, brutal monster who had abandoned his humanity. Even without the guise of the benevolent High Priest, that held true.
But ever since he had seen the princess of a fallen kingdom collapsed on the floor of the Imperial Palace, his very foundation had been shaking. And after taking her, it had only gotten worse.
It was as if the evil god Kinamun was gnawing away at his very mind. Even aware of this, he couldn’t stop. He never understood those who, swept up by momentary desire, would throw themselves into the flame like moths, but he could no longer confidently say he wouldn’t become one of them.
All throughout his duties as High Priest today, his mind had been in that woman’s cold, gloomy bedroom. Instead of patting children’s heads, he wanted to squeeze a woman’s b*****s; instead of reciting verses of blessing, he wanted to taunt her with vulgar language. That, and only that, was what the noble and holy High Priest Ruasil desired.
“I must not act rashly now. Be patient, for there will be glory.”
When he had an audience with the Emperor tomorrow, he would find a suitable pretext to send the Crown Prince far away. Using a false oracle to start a holy war would be the easiest method. It would be best if the Crown Prince died on the battlefield, but given that he was more of a monster than any demon, that possibility was slim. But it didn’t matter.
Before that bastard returns, he would extract Sylvia from Drémoor Castle and bring her to his private prayer chamber, the deepest part of the temple. Sylvia would become a Child of Erios and live out a cozy remainder of her life by his side.
“Enjoy your final game while you can.”
The next day, immediately after Ruasil’s audience with the Emperor, the Empire was thrown into an uproar by a single statement from the High Priest.
“Erios has given an oracle to commemorate the festival. We are to send aid to the people of the Kingdom of Verdion, liberated from the clutches of the evil god Kinamun. Dispatch the army at once, so that the mercy and grace of Erios may be known throughout the continent.”
Following the imperial decree to muster troops, the Crown Prince left the capital at the head of an elite force. Just as Ruasil had planned. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to monopolize the daughter of Kinamun for himself.
The servant of Erios was genuinely welcoming the hand of Kinamun, the very thing dragging him deeper into the abyss.
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