The gate guard carefully recorded the name "Irene," writing it with the most serious expression of his life and what he believed to be his most elegant penmanship. When he finished, he held the paper out to Catherine.

"Miss Irene, could you check if I spelled it correctly?"

Catherine, naturally, remembered her fabricated background perfectly and nodded at once. "It's correct."

"Irene... what a beautiful name. It suits your temperament perfectly." The soldier straightened proudly. "By the way, my name is Albert, Albert Orson. I just joined the city guard, but I'm already a third-class private. My superiors have entrusted me with important duties..."

Catherine maintained a polite smile while listening to Albert's self-introduction. It was awkward, but she quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

Ambrose really was clever. The excuse about "just having swallowed undead and not fully digested them yet" had saved them. The difference between herself and a seasoned adventurer like him was obvious. His ability to improvise was on another level.

As for Albert Orson, he felt that this was the luckiest day of his life. He was struck with the sensation of love at first sight. The human woman before him seemed perfect no matter how he looked at her. Perhaps her features were not the most stunning, but her bearing matched that of the ideal companion he had always dreamed of.

Surely the Lord of Dawn had heard his prayers and sent this angel before him.

Just as that thought formed, another figure slid dramatically into view, literally dropping to his knees and skidding across the ground to stop perfectly in front of Catherine.

"Oh, beautiful lady! You are the most enchanting sight I have ever beheld! Perhaps this is abrupt, but every word comes from my heart. Allow me to introduce myself. I am—"

Albert kicked the interloper away in fury. "Get back to your post, Omos!"

The young man called Omos, unfazed even with a boot print across his face, continued earnestly, "I'm serious! I swear by the Lord of Dawn, I'll do everything in my power to make you happy!"

The scene felt strangely familiar.

Catherine remembered being surrounded by orcs in a tavern not long ago. Back then, Ambrose's advice had been simple: beat them up.

The current situation felt similar. Perhaps...

She clenched her fist, ready to repeat her previous experience and teach these Lyon men a proper lesson.

But the living mercury slime bounced forward and blocked her path just in time.

Within it, Ambrose shuddered. If Catherine had actually struck someone here, things would spiral instantly. This wasn't an adventurers' tavern where fists settled matters.

And these Lyon men had merely made public confessions, not crimes deserving violence. Catherine could simply refuse them. The moment she attacked, the nature of the situation would change.

Unfortunately, she was clearly inexperienced. Ambrose had no choice but to speak from within the slime.

"Young soldiers, this is no divine arrangement, merely a passing encounter. My mistress already has a fiancé in her homeland. Please allow us to enter the city. We have urgent matters to attend to."

Hearing this, Catherine suddenly remembered her persona and blurted out, "But I'm being forced into the marriage."

Ambrose: "..."

The moment those words left her mouth, Albert and Omos both exploded with righteous indignation.

"By the Holy Light!" Omos declared. "How can such wickedness still exist? Rest assured, Irene, I will help you deal with this evil fiancé!"

Albert, panicking, hurried to add, "Yes! Yes, I will protect you from anyone who tries to harm you. I swear it by the Holy Light!"

Ambrose truly despaired. Next time she designed a cover identity, he would review it personally.

Catherine had to spend quite some time clarifying her situation. Yes, she disliked her fiancé, but she had no intention of accepting anyone else's courtship. She would earn enough money on her own and cancel the engagement properly.

The two soldiers, convinced her background was tragic and her resolve admirable, seemed even more smitten.

But since Catherine had explicitly refused, they could not persist. Lyon law was clear: once a woman clearly rejected a suitor, further harassment was illegal.

Reluctantly, Albert completed her entry documents and watched her walk into the city, turning away only when she vanished from sight.

He glared at his colleague. "This is your fault, Omos! Your recklessness scared my Irene away. Don't you have any restraint?"

"My Irene?" Omos shot back firmly. "Did she accept you? Pursuing love is everyone's right! You hesitated. That's on you. I may have been rejected, but I won't give up. I get off duty in half an hour. I'll continue pursuing my goddess!"

"That's illegal!" Albert snapped.

"Only if she files a complaint," Omos replied confidently. "She's not from Lyon, and she probably doesn't even know the law. As long as she doesn't bring it to the Tribunal, I'll keep pursuing her! And even if she does, I won't regret it!"

Meanwhile, Catherine and Ambrose entered the city of Sandshadow. Realizing he had underestimated Catherine's influence, Ambrose quickly instructed her to wrap herself up more tightly to avoid further public confessions.

Following the guards' directions, they soon located the continental teleportation array. Unfortunately, they would have to line up. Normally, such costly arrays were reserved for high-ranking officials, and other users rarely had to wait as long as they could pay.

But Sandshadow's array was unusually busy. Paladins were constantly coming and going.

Ambrose suspected they had arrived during a garrison rotation.

The dwarves had fully withdrawn, and the war was nearing its end. As a former frontline city, Sandshadow required fresh troops. Elite paladins would return to the imperial capital for commendation, and regular units would take over defense.

It was a perfectly normal transition, but unlucky timing for them.

Catherine submitted her teleportation request and was told they would need to wait at least six hours.

With no choice, they found a small tavern to pass the time.

Sandshadow's taverns were very different from those in Sweetdew. For one thing, every patron was human. Adventurers were scarce. Most were Lyon citizens: either off-duty paladins or lay followers of the Lord of Dawn. Even the bard sang hymns to the Lord of Dawn.

The entire place radiated holy light.

Catherine found it novel. Neither Alkhemia nor the desert had such a dense religious atmosphere. The elves worshipped their gods too, but not like this.

All of Lyon seemed perpetually bathed in sacred radiance. The Lord of Dawn's doctrine had seeped into every corner of daily life.

"If the entire empire feels like this," Catherine murmured, "it's no wonder Lyon is so powerful."

Lyon's proportion of paladins had always exceeded normal expectations, something other nations struggled to understand.

But one trip through Lyon made it clear that there was nothing strange about it. The empire was practically a terrestrial divine enclave of the Lord of Dawn.

Ambrose leaned close and whispered, "Lyon's strength doesn't just rest in its faith. Their research and understanding of holy power are unmatched on the continent."

The High Inquisitor of Lyon was the new editor-in-chief of Legendary Spellcraft. Though Ambrose bore him a personal grudge, and aside from certain racial prejudices, the man was undeniably qualified.

Lyon's people didn't simply recite doctrine all day. Their attempts to replicate divine artifacts proved they had never abandoned scholarship or technological progress.

Religious fanatics were not terrifying. Disciplined, progressive religious fanatics—now that was a different story altogether.

Lyon's seeming ascendance was the reason that Ambrose had begun designing a body immune to holy light. He feared that one day he would return to the surface only to find all Nine Kingdoms absorbed into Lyon, and himself, an undead, with nowhere left to go.

Catherine agreed, but added quietly, "Lyon's devotion is admirable, but something about this country unsettles me. Faith is good, but when everyone is a zealot, societal collapse often follows. History proves that again and again. Lyon looks stronger by the day, but I feel trouble brewing on the horizon."

Ambrose offered no opinion. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Politics was not his field. He could hardly hold a conversation with Catherine on the subject. "Better not discuss that here," he warned softly. "It could cause problems."

All he wanted was to pass these few hours peacefully and use the teleportation array to reach the Emerald Dreamwood.

But their peace was abruptly shattered within just two hours.

An elderly paladin in silver-white armor entered the tavern.

Ambrose felt his soul tremble. A sharp, overwhelming sense of danger flooded him. The frail, weathered old man radiated extreme peril.

Instinct told Ambrose that, though he might have attempted a desperate gamble in the wilderness, if they were to fight here within the city, there was perhaps an eighty percent chance he would be forced to resurrect in his phylactery.

Just who was this old man?

The Lyon patrons immediately stood and saluted, respectfully calling out to this "General Light."

Ah. He was so famous that even Ambrose knew his full name: Winston Light, the Silvermoon Knight.

The strongest paladin of the Lyon Empire, bar none.

Countless legends about him circulated across the continent. Many who heard those tales sighed in relief upon realizing that Winston Light wasn't a member of the Lyon royalty. If he had been able to don Lyon's famed Draconic Armaments, the continent would likely have been unified by now.

Why would such a living legend appear in a frontier city like Sandshadow?

Worse still, the old man was walking straight toward Catherine and Ambrose.