"Thank you for your invitation, Count Hel, but I have a question. Aren't the powerful individuals behind you qualified to participate in this banquet?"
In the banquet hall of Heim Castle, a long table stretched across the room. Niv sat alone at the head, while opposite her sat Orad and several of his trusted subordinates.
He glanced at the knight puppets standing silently in armor behind Hel. Even in the midst of the banquet, their presence exuded an intimidating aura, and a trace of unease flashed across Orad's eyes.
He had a feeling that these six individuals' strength might rival his own. He had never expected that as a new archbishop of a minor principality, he would be shown such a formidable "welcome" in such a remote location.
Yet he had no way to act. All he could do was speak cautiously, trying to sow discord between them.
"That's not for you to concern yourself with, Archbishop Orad."
Niv stirred her spoon leisurely in her cup, speaking slowly and deliberately:
"You know my maternal grandfather was not from the Mandrake Principality; he came from a distant western land."
"The West? Could it be the capital of the Knight Empire?"
Orad furrowed his brow. If Hel's support came from the Knight Empire's capital, this would become a serious problem.
"Not exactly. He came from the Magical Empire. But that's not the point. The important thing is that in his youth, he traveled across the continent and made many friends. These knights were sent by one of my grandfather's friends, concerned for my safety and tasked with protecting me."
As she spoke, Niv casually tapped the inner wall of her cup with her spoon, swirling the last traces of milk in her sugar-sweetened drink into gentle ripples.
Her next words, like the rippling milk, stirred waves in the otherwise calm banquet hall:
"Their strength isn't particularly high—they're merely Earth Knights."
Earth Knights, merely?
Fourth-tier?!
Orad twitched at the corners of his mouth, unable to hide his astonishment at Niv's casual statement. If fourth-tier wasn't considered strong, then how could he, as a fourth-tier peak archbishop, measure up?
At that moment, the six knight puppets behind Niv simultaneously released their fighting spirit. It manifested like tangible flames, quickly enveloping their bodies in a dense aura of power.
Feeling the thick fluctuations of their combat energy, Orad's expression darkened further.
All six were early fourth-tier—truly fourth-tier.
And they had been sent merely to protect the young lady of a friend's family.
If so, how powerful must the force behind Hel be?
Sixth-tier? Or perhaps the limit of a mortal?
He didn't even consider fifth-tier; a fifth-tier individual wouldn't casually allow a group of four-tier fighters to protect someone's kin.
"May I ask—who exactly is this friend of the old count?"
Though Orad felt this question was somewhat presumptuous, his curiosity compelled him to ask.
He was, after all, a politician at heart. If Hel's backing was indeed that formidable, he had no intention of provoking such a presence over a deceased younger brother.
"She's simply a monarch who prefers to remain unnamed—a friend of my grandfather in his youth."
Niv didn't give a direct answer. The church's intelligence network might be stronger than she anticipated, so she didn't dare directly invoke the Skoll School as a shield.
But she did hint just enough: a sixth-tier sovereign was not someone a minor principality archbishop like Orad could provoke.
Her tactic worked. Upon hearing her words, Orad's face darkened noticeably.
He likely understood the situation: Niv simply wanted him to lay low for the next few days.
"Count Hel's old family truly has a wide circle of friends. Even such prominent figures are connected to him," Orad said, forcing a smile as he raised his cup toward Niv.
"Thank you, Count Hel, for taking the time to host us. I am quite satisfied with this meal."
Niv secretly relaxed. She knew Orad had admitted defeat for the moment. At least he now realized the disparity in their power, so he would not easily risk conflict.
And if he tried any underhanded schemes, Niv had already prepared contingencies.
"Glad to hear it, Archbishop Orad."
She raised her cup of sweetened milk in response. Orad's eye twitched again.
He had assumed he was negotiating with a seasoned strategist, only to realize he was dealing with an untested youth.
Yet a child wielding absolute power could be far more dangerous. Who knew what whims she might indulge in?
It seemed he could do nothing about the Count for now; he would have to wait until leaving before attempting any ploys.
The rest of the banquet proceeded with relative ease. Though subtle probing occurred, the tension was manageable.
As night fell, Niv personally escorted Orad and his entourage to the church. Four of the six knights remained behind, ostensibly to protect the archbishop.
Orad understood the meaning behind this. Given their strength, he did not intervene, tacitly acknowledging it.
Unbeknownst to him, the Count had a reason for not placing the knight puppets inside the church. Every church had protective wards that immediately detected non-Light or non-Life elemental presence.
Even if Niv wished to send the puppets inside, the wards would have intercepted them.
Still, Orad, impressed and mindful of his position, would likely not make life difficult for the church personnel. After all, whether he could leave Heim Castle safely would depend on her mood.
And Niv did not know that Orad shared a similar thought.
Even if he executed Vivian, Hel would be unlikely to openly oppose him due to his status. All he would need to do is bring Vivian's body to the church in the capital to report Hel's actions.
Then his vengeance would be satisfied, and even the sixth-tier sovereign backing Hel would have no grounds to interfere.