107.

The governor’s sudden action caused the carriage to halt with a loud burst of dust and noise.

“What is it?”

Ignoring the porter’s question, the governor climbed directly onto the carriage and began rummaging through the cargo. Sugarcane stalks burst under his military boots, and soldiers opened boxes, hurling their contents onto the ground.

“What is the meaning of this?! These are all offerings meant for the cathedral!”

Despite Archbishop Ganymedes’ furious protest, the governor and his soldiers paid no heed. Some soldiers even grabbed the archbishop’s arms from both sides to prevent further objections. Finally, three large crates were dragged down under the governor’s order. A constant rustling sound came from inside the boxes. What happened next appeared, to Roe, as if time itself had been abruptly severed into fragments.

The governor drew his sword from its scabbard and plunged it into the crate without even lifting the leather cover. A sickening crunch of bones being pierced echoed out—not once, but several times. Not even a vengeful spirit consumed by relentless hatred could have acted more cruelly.

Eventually, when the governor withdrew his blade, blood streamed down from it. Whatever had been inside the crate seemed to have died instantly, without even a final scream. At that moment, ecstasy spread across the governor’s face.

Roe clenched her fists tightly. An intense impulse seized her—she wished she could cut off the governor’s head and toss it to the seagulls as food.

“…You have declared the Church as your enemy.”

Archbishop Ganymedes trembled with rage, grinding his teeth. The governor, however, smiled with amusement, revealing sharp teeth.

“No, shouldn’t I be the one asking what is going on? I was clearly informed this shipment contained only sugarcane. Unless sugarcane is bleeding, there must be something suspicious in these crates…”

The governor theatrically lifted the leather cover with the bloodied tip of his sword. His expression showed certainty of what lay beneath. Yet, the moment the leather was fully peeled back, his face turned ashen, as if he had bitten rotten meat. He shook the crate violently, disbelieving what he saw. But the contents did not change.

“This… this is a lamb…”

“This incident will be formally reported to the Church.”

“Oh, no, no—this was an accident! My deepest apologies, Your Excellency.”

Roe had never seen the governor so flustered. The archbishop forcefully shook off the soldiers gripping his arms. Without even glancing at the governor, he turned to her.

“Lady Viscountess, please set sail immediately. The brothers will understand why the sugarcane shipment failed to go through—provided you bear witness.”

“I will gladly do so. But those lambs…”

“Have we not always offered sacrifices for safe voyages and victory in battle since ancient times? Do not concern yourself.”

Behind the archbishop, priests were already collecting the lambs’ bodies. Though the custom of offering sacrifices for safe passage had existed since olden days, it was somewhat barbaric for the refined priests of Deus to follow. Yet, without this, it would have been difficult to keep the soldiers’ and governor’s attention fully diverted. The archbishop patted her shoulder reassuringly and gently pushed her toward the sloop.

“Now go.”

Behind her, the long blast of a horn signaling departure echoed through the air. Roe bowed deeply to the archbishop, then turned and hurried unsteadily across the creaking wooden planks of the old dock. Each step threatened to throw her off balance as the worn, poorly repaired boards sagged beneath her feet. Not a single step came easily—just like her life.

She tightened her grip on her legs and raised her gaze ahead. Amid all the other crew members on deck, one figure stood out clearly, cloaked in a thick hood. The shadowed face revealed no distinct features, and only a large hand gripping the railing emerged from beneath the hood. Yet, Roe instinctively knew their eyes had met. There, she sensed, lay her final destination—the last harbor where she would rest.

* * *

When sharing plans with Archbishop Ganymedes, they had always anticipated the possibility of exposure from the start. Thus, detailed plans were exchanged through silent writing, while entirely opposite strategies were spoken aloud. The culprit was likely the young acolyte serving the archbishop. Cardier and Roe lay on a large bed, untangling their long-separated stories and rekindling their bond.

Entwined limb to limb, listening to each other’s heartbeat, an inexplicable drowsiness overwhelmed them, as if the tension that had tightly gripped her for so long had suddenly released. The worries still piled high, but aboard the ship, none of it seemed to matter. Not war, nor the crown prince’s threat—nothing.

Roe dozed off in Cardier’s arms, then jolted awake at dawn. Her cheek felt damp—she must have drooled in her sleep. Seeing the surroundings still dark, she realized it was just before sunrise. As she stirred, Cardier, still half-asleep, tightened his arms and pulled her closer.

“Hmm…”

Roe stifled a chuckle, remembering only the composed Cardier who always woke before her, fully dressed. She understood now—he hadn’t had proper rest either, so the sudden release of all tension made sense. As always, he carried a refreshing scent. Curious whether he hid mint in his pockets, she buried her nose against his chest and sniffed.

“Ah, Roe…”

Even in the dark, his bright blue eyes cracked open slightly, recognized her, and softened into a gentle smile. That single smile made her heart race more than she expected. Soft lips left kisses on her cheek and nape. Like a sleepy animal instinctively marking its scent, he nuzzled against her neck.

“Did you rest well?”

His voice, lower than usual from sleep, sent a shiver through her eardrums. She had thought she was used to it, but had momentarily forgotten just how perfectly divine a creation this man was—even his sleep-rumpled appearance was flawless.

A faint thrill ran down her spine, and desire surged. The previous night, she had been too exhausted to satisfy their physical longing. But now was different. They were in a private space, it was nighttime, they were completely alone, and after sleep, their strength was renewed. Just as Roe made up her mind and began to climb atop Cardier’s firm abs—

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

A loud, violent pounding shattered the fragile mood. Only broken atmosphere and awkward silence remained in the room. Roe saw Cardier’s eyes twist in irritation. Her own expression was likely no different.

“Milady. Are you in there?”

Turner knocked again, raising his voice as if summoning his own doom. What an oblivious fool. She hastily pulled on the robe dropped on the floor and cracked the cabin door open just enough to peek out.

“What?”

“A storm’s coming.”

“A storm?”

Roe widened her eyes and flung the door open. She had thought the darkness outside was due to the late hour, unaware that storm clouds had gathered. As she opened the door, the increased humidity in the air clung to her skin.

“How big?”

“Not too large. It’s about 45 deca units northeast of here.”

Even to the naked eye, it looked faint—thankfully, it seemed to be among the weakest kinds of storms. Of course, assuming it wouldn’t grow stronger before passing.

“It’ll probably just dump some rain as it passes.”

“Yeah. Normally no big issue, but since we left in a hurry, we still need to move cargo from the deck into the inner hold and cover the cannons with waterproof tarps. We’re a bit short on hands.”

Turner shrugged, his gaze shifting past her. Cardier now stood behind her, leaning casually against the doorway. Turner forced a smile and addressed him.

“If the Viscount has nothing urgent, a little help would be appreciated.”

Roe caught a faint flicker of jealousy in Turner’s eyes. If even she, with her famously blunt perception, could notice it, Cardier surely did too. Yet, Cardier showed no sign of displeasure and simply nodded.

“I’ll help.”

Then, he gently pulled her close from behind and lightly kissed her nape, as if reluctant to part even for a moment. The same man who, the night before, had carefully avoided even brushing her with his fingertips, fearing it might disturb her weary rest.

“I’ll be back.”

This open declaration—marking her as his—was undeniably pirate-like. Damn it, it was even kind of cute. Unable to resist, Roe grabbed Cardier by the collar, pulled him down, and crashed her lips fiercely against his. His wide, startled blue eyes slowly softened into sweetness.

“Ah…”

As if saying, “Since you desire it so, I have no choice,” Cardier briefly pulled back his lips, then pressed into a deeper kiss. His victorious gaze was arrogantly tender.