The Game Difficulty
Is Crazy
The same day, at noon.
Half a day remained before the secret meeting began.
Glen met Hockney and Tasha at the entrance of the village.
Hockney, his eyes heavy with fatigue, soon handed Glen a single sheet of paper.
On it was written the information that he and Tasha had gathered and organized about the nobles who had entered Lublin Village during the morning.
“Most of the participants entered the village discreetly, so there will surely be things we missed. I apologize.”
Hockney lowered his head, and Glen, after checking the note, waved his hand.
“It’s fine. This is more than enough. There’s still time until the meeting, so go rest at the lodgings.”
Hockney hesitated for a moment, then followed Glen’s instruction.
It seemed he clearly understood that if he and Tasha failed to maintain their condition, they would only become a burden.
“Then we’ll be back shortly.”
“We’re sorry.”
After patting the shoulders of the two knights who had worked through the night and sending them off, Glen let out a sigh of relief.
Romina, who had been acting as a dedicated maid, slightly returned to her original voice.
“But is it really okay to pull those two back like that?”
“Yeah. It’s fine even if we don’t keep watch.”
“Really?”
Romina tilted her head.
Why withdraw the watchers when they did not know whether the meeting participants would arrive in the morning or afternoon?
“Yeah. Everyone who was going to come has already arrived.”
The corners of Glen’s mouth lifted slightly.
His gaze was directed toward the lower part of the noble list written on the note.
『Ducan Oswetry』
『Claudia Norden』
Ducan, the eldest son of Count Oswetry, and Claudia, the young lady of House Norden.
If Glen were to summarize these two again in his mind, it would be like this.
『Traitor 1』
『Traitor 2』
In other words, these two were the very traitors who were under Archbishop Bastian’s control and would summon a demon at the meeting place.
“They weren’t allies to begin with, so if I had to put it one way, they’re like mafia members.”
In any case, it was fortunate that things were proceeding exactly as Glen knew they would.
Of course, regardless of who the traitors were, the act of summoning a demon itself was something he could not simply ignore, so even if he confirmed it, the situation would not change much.
Still, the fact that events were unfolding the same way as in the original work was a great relief.
“At least it means I won’t have to reveal the cards I was hiding because of some unexpected situation.”
In any case, all the materials were ready.
He had already identified the other movements of the Black Church that could become variables, secured the forces needed to deal with unforeseen situations, and secretly scouted the location of the meeting early the previous dawn.
On top of that, he had even prepared the best possible countermeasures against a potential Lunatic scenario.
All that remained was to use all those materials to create one perfect result.
In Glen’s ash-gray eyes, as always, a clear light shone as he steeled his resolve.
First, Glen headed toward the village entrance.
There, he met Bishop Roderick, who assisted Saint Luceria.
Disguised as a traveler, the bishop naturally approached Glen.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Sir Glen Wordsworth. I’ll keep this brief and tell you the location where the meeting will be held. I’ll see you there.”
As he spoke, Bishop Roderick quietly slipped a letter into Glen’s chest and then silently disappeared into the crowd.
Glen opened the letter, stamped with the Saint’s pure white seal, and checked the location.
“As if it would be any different.”
The place was a private house with a blue roof, located in a secluded corner of Lublin Village.
It was exactly the same place as in the original work, and the same place Glen had scouted early the previous dawn.
“There’s still a bit of time until it starts.”
Since all preparations were already complete, going ahead to check the site again would not be a bad idea.
Glen walked through a narrow alley and joined Romina and Ridenhall.
The private house with the blue roof.
Just hearing the name made it sound like a very shabby place to hold a secret meeting, and in reality, it looked exactly like that.
Vines grew along walls where bricks had been torn out here and there, and most of the windows were broken.
Its appearance was comparable to the abandoned house he had discovered while tailing Lily Cluny the previous day.
The actual meeting place, however, was different.
When you entered the house that was little better than a ruin, a shabby living room spread out before you.
But as written in the letter, if you pulled the paint-stripped, rusted candlestick installed in the fireplace, a secret passage opened.
“Come to think of it, this world really does seem to have twice as many hidden places as what’s visible on the surface.”
“Well, to be fair, I do go out of my way to look for places like this…”
While having such pointless thoughts over a single secret passage, Glen followed the passage down underground.
Soon, he arrived at a large underground cavern—namely, the place where the secret meeting would be held.
“May God’s grace be with you on this blessed day, brother.”
An elderly priest with a gentle appearance drew the sign of the cross and greeted Glen.
Glen handed him the letter he had received from Roderick.
“So you are Sir Glen from Wordsworth. Please come this way.”
Guided by the priest, Glen went to the round table placed at the center of the cavern.
Aside from the lighting, the only thing in this vast space was that small round table, large enough for about ten people to sit around.
On the table were simply arranged fruits and lightly prepared meat.
“Tsk…”
A sound escaped his lips at the sight of such almost mocking simplicity and modesty.
Of course, Saint Luceria herself was known to live frugally.
Still, inviting seven or eight nobles to work together on a major undertaking and treating them like this felt rather bitter.
“She really lives off her image. So damn frugal.”
He understood the reason.
If a Saint known for purity and integrity secretly gathered several nobles who would become her faction and held a lavish party, the image would not look good.
Even so, what he had accepted beyond a monitor now becoming reality left a sense of disappointment and bitterness that was hard to ignore.
That feeling vanished the moment he plucked a grape and tossed it into his mouth.
“…These grapes are good.”
“There’s still some time before the Saint arrives, so please make yourselves comfortable. If you need anything, we will prepare it.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Leaving behind his characteristic benevolent smile, the old priest walked toward the entrance of the cavern.
As expected of someone from the Saint’s side, he looked almost excessively kind.
“Ash-gray hair and eyes. Then you must be a member of House Wordsworth.”
A voice came from beside him.
Naturally, Glen was not the first to arrive at the meeting place.
He had simply not noticed while following the priest’s guidance, but there were already two people seated at the round table.
One of them was the man who spoke to Glen from the right.
“And since the head of the house has gone missing and the eldest son, Edgar Wordsworth, is imprisoned, you must be Glen Wordsworth.”
“…You are Sir Randolph Hayward.”
