Buckingham Stanley, the namesake of the Stanley family, twitches his distinctive hawk nose and takes a few sips of water from the table. He felt a terrible pain in his head.

　The headache was now like a chronic illness for Buckingham. And it wasn't from an external source, it was from something that he didn't know where it came from, his mind.

　When he was in charge of House Stanley's diplomacy in Garouamalia, he had never shown this kind of behavior. But since I've been in King's Landing, I've been tormented by this pain every waking moment. It was as if a saw with dull teeth was painstakingly slicing through his head.

　What a pity for a man who once loved mischief and wine. He had never imagined that he was so weak. Buckingham let out a deep sigh. Letting out that heavy breath in his room had become a part of Buckingham's daily routine lately.

　There are two things that bring on headaches. Both are buried in the back of his mind.

　The first is, of course, the daily burden of being the Stanley family's nominal head, which is a formless burden in itself. My brother, the original head of the family, is still missing and his remains cannot be found. His relatives have left the Stanley family, having lost the stronghold of Garouamaria.

　Heldt-Stanley, the original second head of the family and Buckingham's nephew, was still too inexperienced to tangle with the poisonous spiders of society. Before he knew it, he had become the Stanley family's diplomatic representative.

　Frankly, it's not a good thing. There is no such thing as a great man who has lost his place of refuge. The only thing I can do is to sell off my interest in reclaiming Garou Amalia and maintain my position and livelihood in the Garulist capital.

　He spends his days appearing at all kinds of social gatherings to curry favor with the nobility. And there he plays himself, the confident man he once was.

　A drinker, a womanizer, and a prankster above all. He will continue to play the role of such a licentious person forever. By doing so, he can attract the attention of the aristocrats who are hungry for stimulation, and he can also get laughs. In a sense, this was Buckingham's way of life.

　But as he continued to do so, Buckingham's love of alcohol, women, and pranks became depressing. But as Buckingham did this repeatedly, he began to find everything he used to love, drinking, women, and pranks, depressing. He gritted his teeth and ridiculed himself for having become a very uninteresting person.

　No matter how much I hate it, I have to keep on playing such a pleasant existence. This contradiction caused pain in Buckingham's skull.

　--Contradictions are always conceived in the chest, born and conceived again. That's human nature, isn't it, Heldt?

　I remember saying something like that to my nephew, Herdt, once. It's funny how you can say something like that and still look like this.

　And the other thing that bothered me was that nephew. Herdt-Stanley.

　He's doing well. I have no complaints about his behavior as the head of the cathedral, and when I occasionally have him appear at social gatherings as the next head of the family, he interacts well and is a good speaker.

　Even though he had lost his left eye, his character had not fallen into a state of despondency. In fact, he has become more fearless. If he continues like this, he will be a good head of the family. Buckingham was even convinced of this. Despite his family's favoritism, he would not be wrong.

　That's why I have a concern. That's the danger that Heldt sometimes shows.

　In the arena, he would sometimes act like a roughneck, and at other times, he would act like an adventurer. Of course, this did not put him in danger. Rather, he would return with his golden eyes shining without incident, much to our dismay. But that doesn't mean we can overlook it.

　In the past, when I was in Galuamaria, I had never seen anything like that. A follower and embodiment of justice and goodness. A man who does not anguish or confuse, but simply does. It is no exaggeration to say that this was Held Stanley. In the past, I would have called him impersonal, but now I feel nostalgic for those days.

　It seemed to Buckingham that Heldt's dangerousness had been increasing recently. Was it desperation, perhaps?

　He had lost his father, he had lost his home, and he had even lost an eye. At his age, Heldt was still in the prime of life. Even if you can't see it in his normal state, deep down in his heart, in his gut, he's carrying something dark, and it's not surprising.

　That's no good. That, Heldt, is no small vessel. He's a vessel that can go anywhere if the times push him hard enough. At least that's what Buckingham believes.

　--Knock, knock.

　There was a hard, subdued knock on the door of his room. Buckingham replied in a slightly hushed voice, urging him to enter. Apparently, he had used his voice too much last night.

　Come in, Uncle. With that, a golden-haired man named Heldt-Stanley emerged from the door. He sits down on a chair in the room as if he has no qualms about it.

　Her hair, which had been neatly trimmed when she was in Galuamaria, was now slightly disheveled. But perhaps it was her manner that gave me the impression that she was not messy.

　Buckingham says, trying to formulate the words he was thinking about.

I've got good news for you, Heldt. The cathedral has sent for you.

　Heldt chews on Buckingham's words, his right eye narrowing slightly. He paused for a few moments to consider what was going on, and then opened his lips.

I don't mind. Are you hunting for the head of a hexenbiest, or are you guarding someone?



　He nodded his head with a slight tug of his chin, as if to say, "Whatever, no problem. It was an ambiguous reply that could be taken as arrogance, composure, or desperation.

　Buckingham raises his eagle nose and wets his lips as if assessing Heldt's attitude. Then he shook his head.

It's an escort, but there's no danger. Of course not. You're the next head of the Stanley family. You're the next head of the Stanley family, and I'm not going to put you in harm's way.

　Smoothing his words over, Buckingham showed his white teeth. It was a different smile than the one he showed in social situations. He stomped down on Heldt's voice as he was about to say something.

"You're going on a saint's journey, a pilgrim's escort, Heldt. I have an old friend, a cathedral knight. A knight also known as the Honor, and I'll be his companion for form's sake.

　The image of a knight flickered in my mind. He wields a vermillion spear and smiles ferociously. As long as you are right beside him, there is no danger, even if it happens. Besides, a pilgrim's journey is as good as being watched over by the gods. There is no danger of death there.

　All the anecdotes of pilgrimage that have been told in the past promise that miraculously all the companions, including the saint, will be saved.

In short, a ritual chaperone. I'm not really interested in that, but if it's a duty of the cathedral," he said almost without pause.

　Buckingham couldn't help but snicker at Heldt's almost seamless introduction.

　In the past, he would not have been the kind of person to say he was not interested. In the past, he would not have said that he was not interested. The anecdote of the saint, a part of the myth, if you will.

　Buckingham choked on his words for a moment, then nodded his head and clapped his hands. He made a grand gesture to disguise his agitation. Then he dipped his lips in the water.

　Helt was chosen to accompany him on the pilgrimage, partly at Buckingham's urging, but most of all because the cathedral demanded it. It was easy for Buckingham to imagine why.

　Now, the cathedral was getting a little impatient. It had fallen behind the heraldry in the last battle before entering the dead snow. It's unlikely that the cathedral will just leave the corpse there, but even so, the priests are probably very upset that they might be held responsible for it. And the people are more than a little upset.

　--That's why they want a story. They want a story to fill their hearts, to lift their spirits. Something to distract them from the responsibility of defeat.

　So here's the plot I came up with.

　The heir of a noble family, deprived of his birthplace by heraldry, secures his will under the protection of a cathedral. After the pilgrimage of the saints, he is ordained by God and becomes a cathedral knight, vowing to destroy the heraldry.

　It's a beautiful story, and I'm sure the citizens will be deeply moved by this cheap play. A masterpiece.

　But whatever the intentions behind it, it's definitely a good opportunity. Unlike the knights under the king, the knights of the cathedral are under the jurisdiction of the cathedral, and thus have a kind of inviolability. Depending on the time period, they may even have more authority than the lower nobility, and the cathedral is a clear stronghold for them.

　I wonder if Heldt is desperate or if there is something else going on. It's hard for Buckingham to understand. Still, it never hurts to have a place to turn.

　Buckingham looked into his golden right eye, which was narrowed slightly.

　Heldt had always had a strange charm about him. It could be said to be mesmerizing, but when that eye pierces you, it's as if it's illuminating the depths of your being. There is something about him that attracts people.

　He is not the kind of person who should be bent in such a place. The fact that this good news came to me is proof of that. It's a sign of divine guidance.

Now, get ready. My friend, his name is Garrus and he's a good man. It will be a good journey.

　Buckingham said, shaking his eagle nose. My head, it hurts.