Chapter 75: The Alliance’s First Meeting

They settled into a tranquil existence, a calm and ordinary life that mirrored that of any typical couple.

It was as if all the major events had been compressed into their initial days of acquaintance. For the entire week that followed, their lives unfolded without a single extraordinary incident.

During the day, Wade Nairt attended to his duties with the Knight Order, while Lamia Talia remained at home, diligently learning the art of sewing.

The servants found nothing unusual in their mistress’s sudden interest in needlework. After all, such domestic skills were considered essential for any lady of the house, a mark of a virtuous wife.

Wade, however, harbored a distinct sense of bewilderment. ‘A Demon Lord, learning to embroider flowers?’ he mused. ‘Do the other Demon Lords in the Demon Lord City know of this? Are they aware that their black-armored ruler is currently stitching clumsy little blossoms?’

‘They probably don’t,’ he concluded. ‘If they did, they would undoubtedly charge over, exclaiming, “Your Majesty, you’ve lost your mind!”‘

“Heh heh…”

A quiet laugh escaped Wade as the thought crossed his mind. The expressions on the faces of those demons, should they ever discover the truth, would surely be priceless.

“Thinking of something pleasant?”

A slightly irksome male voice cut through his reverie.

Wade cast a quick glance upwards, spotting Zelin, who was leisurely enjoying snacks in his grandfather’s study.

Indeed, the notorious playboy had now become quite familiar with Wade’s grandfather. It seemed the advice Zelin had offered last time had proven remarkably effective. Consequently, the two had developed a surprisingly amicable relationship.

Zelin, despite his somewhat dissolute reputation, was far from foolish. This was a golden opportunity to cultivate connections with both the assistant to the Grand Commander of the Knight Order and the former Pope. No ordinary person, especially one from a noble background, would ever let such a chance slip by.

Commendably, Zelin had never once brought up his own family matters. He hadn’t used his newfound familiarity with the former Pope as an excuse to engage in the intricate “social games” of the aristocracy. This discretion was truly sensible, for Wade, above all else, loathed dealing with such nobles.

Those individuals, burdened by their suffocating etiquette, even dictated the precise order in which one consumed a meal. Their world was so elevated that commoners, even if they starved to death, wouldn’t be able to snatch a single bite.

“…No,” Wade finally replied, exhaling a soft sigh as he watched Zelin munch on his apple, his gaze fixed upon him.

Within the Knight Order, Wade consistently presented a genial facade, primarily to bolster morale among his colleagues. He often had to play the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine with the other two members of his office.

However, once outside the order and within the comforting presence of his grandfather, he could shed that particular burden.

It wasn’t that he was dropping a disguise; he was genuinely an easygoing person by nature. Rather, he no longer felt the need to maintain such a rigid composure. Allowing his guard to drop occasionally and simply relaxing was perfectly acceptable here.

“This apple is quite delicious,” Zelin offered, extending an invitation. “Have a piece.”

Zelin possessed an innate knack for familiarity, a trait evident from the very first day they met.

Initially, their encounters had been limited to a single meeting during a routine Knight Order patrol. Later, they exchanged a few words at a “lecture,” followed by another brief chat at Wade’s grandfather’s home.

Yet, in that short span, Zelin had grown remarkably “chummy” with him. Even now, he would deftly peel an apple with a fruit knife, slice it, impale a piece on a fork, and then directly offer it to Wade, who was still lost in his own thoughts.

“…”

Wade was plagued by the distinct sensation that accepting the apple would instantly signify his agreement to friendship. Yet, there seemed no compelling reason to offer a harsh refusal.

With a slight forward lean, accompanied by the gentle creak of the sofa, Wade reached out and accepted the offered fork. Another soft creak sounded as he settled back into the cushions.

“How have things been recently?”

The crisp bite of the apple was punctuated by the arrival of his grandfather, Osias Parama’s voice.

Osias had just returned from watering the flowers in the backyard, having left the two men to their devices in his room—one meticulously peeling an apple, the other lost in a distant reverie.

“Hmm? Nothing untoward,” Wade replied.

“He was just grinning foolishly,” Zelin interjected, “I suspect something good has happened to him.”

In contrast to Wade, who appeared as relaxed as if he had returned to his childhood home, Zelin’s posture remained subtly taut. Despite his reputation, he was, after all, a genuine noble.

While he might be known for his dalliances, he certainly wouldn’t exhibit impoliteness when in the presence of truly significant figures.

Wade heard Zelin’s playful jab, and a small, displeased hum resonated in his nostrils, yet he wasn’t genuinely angered.

Since that day, the three of them had seemingly forged a small “triumvirate,” dedicated to dissecting the intricacies of men’s emotional predicaments.

Their primary focus, however, remained Wade, the newlywed husband. Osias, the seasoned elder, served as the fount of ideas, while Zelin meticulously refined these suggestions into actionable plans, all of which ultimately fell to Wade to implement.

Now, they were gathered for the first informal meeting of their “three-man alliance.” The church had just concluded a “symposium” that day, providing the perfect opportunity for the trio to reconvene.

“It seems your married life is progressing rather well?”

Three sofas were arranged perfectly.

Wade and Zelin occupied the long sofas on either side, while Osias settled into the single armchair positioned squarely in the middle. The glass coffee table shimmered, reflecting the light from the crystal chandelier above, creating an illusion of high-society figures engaged in a momentous conference to determine the nation’s destiny.

Yet, in a strange sense, this illusion held a kernel of truth.

Ostensibly, their purpose was to assist Wade in navigating his marital life. In reality, however, it was a covert confrontation between the White Knight and the Black Demon Lord. These three men, in essence, represented humanity’s last stand.

One was the White Knight himself, another a former Pope offering sagely advice, and the third, a veritable playboy, genuinely present merely for the sheer spectacle.

Zelin, it seemed, remained blissfully oblivious to the profound events he had been drawn into. Perhaps, before long, he would find himself unwittingly following this unlikely alliance to save the world, his ledger of merits mysteriously swelling with an unexpected bounty of good deeds.

“Barely adequate,” Wade finally conceded, his words tinged with a familiar hesitation. He was meticulously choosing his phrasing, striving for clarity while simultaneously ensuring that Zelin, an ordinary man, wouldn’t perceive any deeper, more arcane meanings.

“Oh? More trouble with your wife? If things are truly dire, I could always have a chat with her. You know, I’m rather skilled at conversing with women—”

Whiz!

A cold glint, reflected from the fork in Wade’s hand, flashed through the air.

Wade had already consumed the apple from his fork. With a flick of his wrist, he launched the utensil, impaling it perfectly into the apple slice nearest to Zelin. The fork stood upright, a silent, yet potent, warning.

Though Wade uttered not a single word, Zelin instinctively swallowed, then politely extended the fork and the newly skewered apple back to him.

Following this, the familiar sounds resumed: a creak, another creak, and then a distinct crunch.

****

“Alright, enough with the eating,” Osias declared, his tone firm. “You’ve finally made it here; let’s have a proper discussion.”

Osias clearly intended for Wade to provide a thorough “report.” Wade could only purse his lips, then cast another quick glance at Zelin.

The old man was likely inquiring if he required assistance. Given that Wade was currently navigating a relationship with a Demon Lord, Zelin, with his numerous romantic escapades, ought to be capable of offering some valuable counsel. Hadn’t his straightforward advice proven successful last time?

“Indeed,” Wade admitted, “in matters of the heart, there are occasionally some rather thorny issues.”

“Take, for instance, Lamia’s… peculiar ‘self’.”

‘She possesses no genuine self,’ he thought. ‘This is far from normal, yet as an ordinary man, I am utterly at a loss as to what she should do.’

He could instruct her to pursue other activities, but wasn’t ‘to do something’ merely another form of command?

Wade acknowledged that his own perspective might be flawed. ‘But that’s precisely why I need someone else to analyze the situation,’ he reasoned. ‘Much like any matter one is deeply entangled in, only an outsider can truly discern the truth.’

After a moment of careful deliberation, he finally articulated his thoughts.

“How to put it… it’s just that my wife, perhaps… well… views things from a somewhat different perspective than most people?”

“…”

Zelin listened intently to Wade’s hesitant words, observing his flustered and conflicted expression. After a moment of contemplation, he ventured a cautious question.

“Your wife… she wouldn’t happen to be suffering from some mental illness, would she? Perhaps a visit to a doct—”

Clang!

This time, it wasn’t a pierced apple that cut Zelin short, but a gaping hole punched through the glass coffee table.

Naturally, the church would cover the damages. Thank the gods for that.