Across the rain-soaked woodland, Brendel met Archbishop Wood while accompanied by Freya. This was the second time he had seen this Archbishop of the Holy Cathedral of Fire since Ampere Seale. When he saw Mephisto standing beside Archbishop Wood, Brendel hurriedly curtsied, “Teacher.”
Although Sanorso passed down the Nine Luminaries Sword Art to him, Mephisto had also taught him quite a few practical combat skills. Nominally they also had the status of teacher and student, and the Wind Empress didn’t object to this.
Archbishop Wood looked slightly surprised at Mephisto, “So that’s how it is, you have admitted a good student.”
Brendel raised his head and saw several Paladins in red robes, and couldn’t help but squint, guessing what Archbishop Wood was coming for. But Archbishop Wood had incurred him a big loss using the name of Tulman, a lesson Brendel would never forget.
Seeing Brendel’s expression, the Archbishop of the Holy Cathedral of Fire smiled awkwardly, “It seems that Mr. Brendel has become prejudiced against me.” He held back the shock in his heart. Williams had brought ten Paladins and even if the Konolia fleet was stopped by Aouine’s royal fleet, they wouldn’t have been wiped out instantly, not to mention they had the White Winged Knights’ assistance. Even so, all he had seen were the Kirrlutz people who were tied up and looked dejected, and the White Winged Knights’ banner that was thrown into the muddy water.
Not knowing whether the Holy Cathedral had long been too covetous for an easy life or whether its enemies were too powerful, Archbishop Wood looked at the young man in front of him and a deep unease welled up in his heart.
“The proverb that elves ‘each do his own’ is clear in the Lord Archbishop’s mind,” Brendel replied.
“Haha,” Archbishop Wood laughed bitterly. “So today, I’m here to taste the bitter fruit that I planted last time. But Mr. Brendel knows it in his heart that it is not a preconceived notion that the Holy Cathedral always needs a stable Aouine.”
“So you’ve chosen the northern aristocracy?” Brendel said in an aggressive tone. Even his eyebrows were raised. In the position of a Kirrlutzan, what Archbishop Wood said was right, but Brendel didn’t have to put himself in the position of an enemy. He didn’t have that kind of a heart. “Kirrlutz or Aouine citizens, they are all descendants of the Flame King and have to maintain the glory. The Seifer royal family lost their throne long ago. After the O’Casey siblings lost the Lionheart Sword, the nobles made a vow to abdicate Hessian the First and promised that his heirs would no longer covet the throne. Therefore Aouine today has no heir other than Prince Haruz.”
“I admit that the Holy Cathedral could have put more consideration into this matter and that Archbishop Moros was a little too bent on the matter for me to stop him.” Archbishop Wood replied with a sigh.
Brendel watched as Archbisho
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