Taming the Evil Saintess

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I will infiltrate the Cathedral to beat up the Pope and thwart the plans of Hell Duke Derabilice.

The overall picture of that plan was not a problem at all. I had mentally prepared myself for a task that had to be done someday.

Here, the key issue wasn’t my mindset but rather a practical one.

“It’s about the numbers.”

At my words, the expressions of my comrades gathered in the guild’s special room stiffened.

“The battle at the Cathedral will undoubtedly be a full-scale war.”

“That’s right.”

“The Cathedral Knights have no choice but to obey the Pope. No matter how strong Ophelia may be, even if I’m a hero, those guys will come at us with everything they’ve got.”

“That’s also true.”

Yurede nodded.

Ophelia seemed to be quite displeased with Yurede’s presence, sulking and crossing her arms.

“The bottom line is, the forces of the Hell Duke are going to be too much for our numbers. The Knights at the Cathedral will also resist.”

Sure, we have the cheat key named Blackie, but I’m not raising Blackie to be a dragon that swallows humans whole, but rather a dragon that eats monsters.

Above all, if rumors spread that I used Blackie in the fight at the Cathedral, the Black Dragon Nuar might come running to dismember me.

“In the end, we need allies.”

“What about using that punk from the Knight Order?”

Ophelia pointed at Albrecht with a sly smile, as if she had a good idea.

While I was in the middle of a meeting rebuking Ophelia’s ridiculous attitude of referring to a Sword Saint as that punk, I decided to let it slide for now.

“The Knight Order won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Right now, most of the Empire’s troops are stationed on the Eastern Coast.”

Black Water Elgore.

His pirate crew had become active. By now, Elgore had been pillaging the coastal villages one after the other, becoming a major headache for the Empire. His fleet rivals the total military strength of a decent nation. More than anything, Elgore preferred naval battles.

No matter how effectively we use our troops, naval warfare inevitably requires far more resources and personnel than land warfare.

“That’s the situation. The Empire has no time to care about the Cathedral.”

“So what do we do?”

“I told you, we need to gather allies.”

I gave Erwin a glance. She seemed to understand what I was trying to say and gave a wry smile, shaking her head.

“If you mean the warriors of the Vinheim Tribe, that would be difficult. The Fairy King would be riled up and put a stop to it.”

“True.”

Elves are excessively closed-minded. Let alone sending private soldiers to intervene in human affairs would definitely put us on the Fairy King’s bad side.

“The Tsar’s Imperial Guards are currently committed to the Erosion Zone development. Moreover, it’s quite a distance from the Ice Palace to the Cathedral.”

Cecilia cautiously raised her hand to speak. It seemed like she felt a bit awkward, as I hadn’t even asked her.

“I could summon my retainers, but even then, it wouldn’t amount to more than a handful.”

Azar’s territory wasn’t in good shape either. To begin with, Azar’s domain, Labre Castle, was built on a barren and desolate desert. They were barely self-sufficient and had no capacity to assist others.

Ultimately, it seems we can’t count on Albrecht’s Knights, Erwin’s warriors, Cecilia’s Imperial Guards, or Azar’s retainers.

We might be able to gather some battle mages through Emily, the next Archmage, but her master, Eldarian, wouldn’t want to be at odds with the Cathedral.

In the end, due to various political reasons, it was hard to gather reinforcements. Hence, gathering the Holy Knights of the Imperial National Church would be the worst decision of all.

“Elliot, do you have any other ideas?”

“None.”

More than half of the bonds I’ve formed since coming to this world are with the Holy Knights of the Cathedral. They’ve been adversaries since the moment I fled the Cathedral with Ophelia.

“However, it’s not that I have absolutely none.”

I looked at Laila to pull out my last card. Despite being in the presence of nobles, her identity as a Dragonkin made her a presence that couldn’t be overlooked.

For reference, Ophelia was sitting as far from Laila as possible.

“Laila, we need allies.”

“It can’t just be me.”

I nodded at Laila’s words. There were certainly multiple strategic reasons for summoning her.

“Let’s call old friends.”

“Haha, I knew you’d say that.”

Laila showed her sharp teeth in a knowing smile, while Ophelia crossed her arms in discontent.

“Elliot, you had friends?”

“More than you.”

“You jerk.”

As Ophelia seemed ready to pounce, I sheepishly leaned back and explained.

“The Black Eagle Mercenary.”

“You were part of that?”

“Yeah. There are a few survivors from there besides me and Laila.”

What kind of work would a mercenary who managed to survive as a former slave be able to do?

They were all making a living working as mercenaries across the continent, just like Laila. At the very least, Black Eagle mercenaries wouldn’t be treated poorly anywhere. The mercenary community is one that values skill above all, and Black Eagle mercenaries were the elite in that regard.

I had no choice but to cut off contact with them when I became a Holy Knight of the Cathedral, but Laila, overflowing with camaraderie, was a bit different.

“You’re still in touch with them, right?”

“Of course. We’re close enough that if I call, they’ll come running.”

Laila nodded, then tapped her fingers on the table.

“But there’s one problem.”

“What is it?”

“All mercenaries on this continent are affiliated with a single organization.”

“….”

Of course, I knew that.

Adventurers belong to the Adventurer Guild, mages belong to the Archmage Association, and over 90% of mercenaries on this continent belong to the Mercenary Association.

The last time I visited the southern Auriga Desert to meet the Golden Lion Azar and the rogue Olmen, there was a certain third Divine Mark Holder I never got to meet.

Perhaps due to being from the same region, Azar, who had been silently listening, nodded.

“You mean Gersen.”

“Exactly.”

Laila chimed in.

Gersen.

The third named character of Auriga, commonly known as the Mercenary King, was a legendary figure who had the entire continental mercenary group under his control.

“As you might guess, to summon that many allies, we inevitably need the permission of Gersen, the head of the Mercenary Association.”

“I guess so. You expect that the Mercenary King wouldn’t give his permission.”

“That’s right.”

While Gersen might be an eccentric figure, he wasn’t dumb enough to miss the situation. On the contrary, he was a seasoned politician.

As the head of an organization, it’s only natural for him to be skeptical about using his mercenaries to strike at the very heart of the continent’s faith.

“I have a solution.”

“What is it?”

“We’re heading to the Auriga Desert right now.”

“….”

Laila gave me a blank stare, and Azar chuckled.

Ophelia blinked a few times before asking, “Why… why?”

“Well, we have to meet Gersen.”

In the end, I planned to persuade him directly. Just to borrow some mercenaries.

“Will he be the type to allow that if you persuade him?”

“Definitely not.”

“So what will we do then?”

“We’ll just have to persuade him well.”

“Well…?”

At Ophelia’s question, I subtly raised my fist.

She stared at my fist for a moment, then said, “You know, Elliot?”

“What?”

“You tend to think of the world too lightly. Do you think everything can be solved just by hitting them?”

“….”

“Got you right in the feels, huh?”

“Ophelia.”

“What?”

“I’d rather not hear that from someone who just drunk-complained yesterday.”

Then, all of a sudden, a glass of water flew at me.

Of course, I raised one hand to catch it.

“Don’t stop me!”

*

So we economized time and found a wagon to head south.

The Mercenary Association is located in a border town between the Auriga Desert and the Empire’s territory. As the most thriving city for mercenary activities on the continent, all passerby bore at least one scar on their faces. They looked like they had been through countless battles.

The headquarters of the association, located at the center of the city, was larger than most cities’ Adventurer Guilds and was in complete disarray.

“Whoa…”

Ophelia grimaced in horror at the sticky puddles of alcohol stuck to the floor, the blood stains on the walls, and the vile stench wafting from the pillars, and instantly glued herself to my back.

In truth, there’s probably no one as rough and rugged as mercenaries.

“Elliot, you were associated with such ruffians?”

“The Black Eagles are a bit different, but… I won’t deny it.”

Ophelia looked at me with great surprise.

Laila chuckled, placing her hand on my crown.

“Saint Lady, don’t worry. Poppy was a bit of an oddball even among mercenaries. What’s the word? Hygiene? She had something resembling obsessive cleanliness.”

“Shut up. You guys are the weird ones for happily eating bread smeared with dung.”

This was only because I was a possessor, and I was horrified by the filthy and deplorable sanitation concepts of the mercenary group, but Laila didn’t know I was a possessor. I guess I would have to tell her eventually.

“Anyway, let’s meet Gersen first.”

“Do you think that punk will see us easily?”

“That’s true.”

The Mercenary King, Gersen.

He is the king of all mercenaries on the continent and the head of the association, but he’s not the type to just sit back and be a bystander. He himself had been active as the best mercenary.

He’s prideful and has an eccentric personality, so even if I reveal I’m a hero, I doubt he would see me just like that.

“We are here to see Gersen.”

I tried chatting up one of the association employees, just in case.

“Eh? Gersen is your friend? Want to die? You look like a newbie, so just scram.”

The customer service concept was thoroughly out the window with that response.

Ophelia scoffed, chuckling at the treatment I received.

“…Well.”

That means there’s no yield here.

I contemplated briefly and moved Ophelia, who had been clinging to me, back behind Laila.

The moment my hand slipped under her armpit, Ophelia let out a shriek. But soon, she tilted her head in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Stay back, it’s dangerous.”

“D-dangerous?”

Leaving the now pale-faced Ophelia behind, I approached the mercenary who had just spoken.

He was drinking, eyeing me with a glint in his eye as he growled.

“What do you want, huh? Get lost or I’ll make a scar on that pretty face of yours…”

His words were abruptly cut off.

Because I had buried my fist into his solar plexus.

He froze mid-sentence, momentarily suspended in the air before crashing into a nearby table with a loud thud.

Silence.

The entire association paused.

And of course, that was exactly what I was hoping for.

In the stillness, I announced loudly enough to be heard, “Bring Gersen here if you don’t want to die.”

If I’m making a ruckus in his own backyard, the legendary Mercenary King would have no choice but to crawl out to clean it up.

This was a type of counter-offensive strategy.

In the mercenary world, violence is the most effective means of communication, and even after several years, I haven’t forgotten that principle.

“He’s a m-madman…”

I heard Ophelia mumble from behind.

“You crazy bastard!”

Honestly, I thought I’d be hearing that from Ophelia.