Chapter 46: The Head of the Household Wants to Know
Aeron was led into the study by a maid, where Cantarella sat alone on the sofa. On the table before her rested the familiar teacup.
"It seems your connection with Montelli runs deeper than I imagined."
"...Must you know even this?"
"Hehe, I was simply curious about the company you keep. It appears you're far more intriguing than I anticipated."
"In the end, it's all just interlocking transactions—mutual exploitation."
"Transactions?"
Cantarella repeated the word, her gaze flickering to the necklace around Aeron's neck. Her smile deepened as she set down her teacup.
"If that's how you choose to characterize interpersonal relationships, I shall refrain from further inquiry."
With that, Cantarella glanced at the maid who had brought Aeron in. Understanding the unspoken command, the maid turned and left, closing the study door behind her.
"Please, have a seat."
Aeron didn't refuse, settling into the seat opposite Cantarella. A teacup was then pushed toward him.
"This tea comes from a friend of mine. I hope it suits your taste."
"Do you think I'd drink tea offered by someone who poisoned me?"
Besides, Aeron only ever drank one type of tea—the vibrant orange-yellow beverage sold in 1-liter jumbo cups at 4.5 coins with occasional discounts. This legendary drink single-handedly shattered the tyranny of 3-coins-for-600ml pricing schemes.
He was addicted to that stuff. Drinking anything else made him cough! (Truthfully, he couldn't afford anything else.)
"Rest assured, I give you my word on the Fisalia family's honor—it's merely tea."
"...Do we even possess such a thing between us?"
"Trust requires one party to take the first step, especially when we've just established cooperative intentions."
Cantarella crossed her long legs, lifting her own cup to take a delicate sip with elegant grace.
"Enough pleasantries. Why did you summon me?"
"I merely wish to resume our conversation from our first meeting—the one that was interrupted. Remember? Matters concerning the 'Blessed Maiden,' and what the Order has been concealing. What do you know about it?"
"Barely anything. I just use such knowledge for situational performances."
Aeron then recounted how he met Cartethyia (omitting the suicide attempt and foot-touching details) and what she had told him.
Fleurdelys had separated from Cartethyia and sought out Aeron under the pretense of seeking help. To evade the Order's pursuit, Aeron brought her to Montelli for protection.
After listening to Aeron's account, Cantarella's expression darkened slightly.
"From your description, you merely treated her as a means to an end."
"After all, I can't afford to provoke such figures. No need to cling to a fuming Shorty that's already burning my hands."
Aeron picked up the teacup that had been pushed toward him but didn't drink. He simply cradled it, fingertips absorbing the warmth radiating from the porcelain.
Observing Aeron's attitude, the smile gradually faded from Cantarella's face. This wasn't the response she had hoped for.
"Mr. Aeron, please come with me."
With these words, Cantarella rose and exited the study first.
Aeron followed her footsteps, descending layer upon layer of steps and passing through one doorway after another, until they finally arrived at the deepest sanctum of Fisalia. At the center of the sanctum, upon a stone platform, stood a sword—a statue representing the true form of the Imperator of the Sentinels.
"?"
Aeron stared at the object before him, unable to grasp why Cantarella had brought him here.
Looking at the statue, Aeron felt as if it were destined not only to top the group stage but also to dominate the MSI.
"...?"
Beside him, Cantarella watched him and also fell into confusion.
Her intuition told her that Aeron was someone who knew the truth; yet her reason insisted it was unlikely he could be aware of it.
If he knew the truth, why hadn't he drawn the attention of the Threnodian? But if he didn't know, then none of his previous actions made any sense.
She knew of Aeron's unorthodox beliefs and was aware of everything he had done, yet concerning Aeron himself, she knew nothing.
"...The Imperator of the Sentinels wields the authority of separation and space. It separated a portion of its power and sealed it within this divine sword, Tyrfing. Only the Resonator of the Sentinels—the Blessed Maiden—can truly draw it forth."
"And that martyr, Cartethyia, who is now by your side, is not the Resonator of the Sentinels."
"Mr. Aeron... the true Blessed Maiden has long been gone. Everything you have built is nothing but a lie."
Cantarella's gaze lingered on Aeron's face, searching for even the slightest trace of wavering, shock, or the panic of being exposed on that perpetually weary and mocking expression.
But all she saw was a profound, unfathomable calm.
"So what? I don't care."
Aeron shrugged and glanced at the sword, which was being described as if drawing it could unify Britain.
From the very beginning, he had known that Cartethyia was not the Blessed Maiden chosen by the Sentinels as the rumors claimed, but a Resonator created by the Threnodian. And the one who had passed Fisalia's trial of the Blessed Maiden, the head of the family, Cantarella, was the true Blessed Maiden in every sense.
But as he said, he didn't care.
"In the end, the title 'Blessed Maiden' is just a label. If you really want one, you can create as many as you like."
"Don't care?" Cantarella repeated the words, her voice echoing faintly in the empty sanctum, devoid of emotion.
"A Resonator created by the Threnodian, a being fundamentally akin to the Dark Tide, sheltered under Montelli's wing, possibly even the seed of future calamity... and you say you don't care?"
She took two steps forward, her heels clicking crisply against the stone floor, circling the platform and the silent divine sword, her eyes never leaving Aeron's face.
"Mr. Aeron, all your previous actions—using Montelli, opposing the Order, even deliberately getting yourself exiled—weren't they all to pave the way for this 'Blessed Maiden,' or to gain something from her? If even this premise is false, then all your schemes are nothing but castles in the air. Or..." She paused, standing slightly ahead and to the side of Aeron, tilting her head slightly, "...did you already know?"
Aeron finally shifted his gaze from the Excalibur and back to Cantarella's face.
"Matriarch, you know what? I won't ask about Fisalia's faith because it's none of my business."
A threatening glint flashed in his eyes as he finished speaking.
"And the same goes for you."
Things that don't concern you—better not inquire too much.
Cantarella understood the implication behind Aeron's words.
"Trust is the foundation of cooperation, Mr. Aeron." She rested her fingertips lightly on the sword hilt, still attempting to pry open Aeron's mouth.
"You don't need to trust me, because I'll use you, and you should use me in return."
Meeting her gaze, Aeron still had no intention of speaking.
What, was he supposed to seriously say something like actually being someone who crossed over from outside the game? Come on, that's so lame!
"I'll eliminate Fenrico, then make the Order undergo a complete transformation and weaken Threnodian. That's enough."
"...It seems you're quite confident in yourself."
"I'd say we're just birds of a feather, Matriarch."
Hearing this, Cantarella's face once again wore her usual smile.
She had heard about Aeron and didn't doubt his capabilities in the slightest, but even so, she still had one question she wanted to ask him.
"Tell me, clergyman, besides being unable to die, what else do you have?"
Upon hearing this, Aeron merely snorted coldly and raised the necklace hanging on his chest—the one given by Ciaccona.
"I have people!"
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