In Type-Moon, people create a magic family lineage

They were still dressed in long, dark robes as deep and mysterious as the night, and in purple battle skirts and armor, looking heroic and awe-inspiring.

The so-called formal attire should be the most suitable attire for their profession.

Instead of useless extravagance.

"Then let's get started."

Archbishop Chartres, who had been waiting at the gate, smiled and looked on with great anticipation. In this country, he was arguably the person who most looked forward to this moment.

He had been looking forward to this for a century before he became the Archbishop of Reims Cathedral, having obtained that ancient proverb passed down through the ages.

Long before Lu Kang arrived in this era, and before Joan of Arc was even born, he was still filled with anticipation.

He hoped that the French would save themselves.

They also hoped that the French could break free from the control of the Roman Catholic Church and achieve spiritual and religious independence.

He looked at them expectantly.

Then, he handed the French crown, which he had been holding, to the young man beside the girl.

Yes.

The coronation ceremony of the King of France has always been conducted by the leaders of the French religious community.

But it wasn't Archbishop Chartres, but Lucan.

Victoire is the next leader of the French Church.

in between.

Jeanne also received another crown from the archbishop.

That crown is called the 'Pope'.

He was the leader of a new religious branch that inherited the church but was independent of the Roman Catholic Church.

They each stood holding a crown.

They looked at each other and smiled.

They will also crown each other.

In the name of secular life, and in the name of religious righteousness!

The original crown prince—the crown princess, Charlotte de France—was also dressed in a long court dress, watching this scene from afar.

I admire them, and I wish them well.

...

They are the kings of both secular and spiritual France.

They defended each other in their own names.

They crowned each other and made one another their 'king'.

—The Hundred Years' War: The End

...

at the same time.

The waters of the English Channel surge and crash against the shore, creating huge waves.

Under the harsh sunlight, a raven flew across the vast sea from the southern land of France, leaping towards the towering, magnificent city in the distance.

He carried a letter in his mouth, bringing news from across the sea.

It's here—

“Vic Touval will soon pay a personal visit to England.”

"The 'King' of the French spirit, the leader of the emerging esoteric religion, the holder of the dual crown foundation—the ancestral genius Touval, is about to pay homage to the 'Clock Tower'!"

— Thus, the message was split in two and transmitted separately.

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Sending Back the Engraved Seal, Two Sovereigns, a Mystery Half a Step Beyond the "Crown Rank"

[A Second Trip to England]

This is something you planned a long time ago.

After defeating Edmund Transberio, you promised him that after the war, you would personally return his magic crest to his family and to his successor.

[During this time, you haven't neglected your research into the magical insignia mastered by this Magic King. His development of fundamental theories of mystery has actually given you a lot of inspiration—it's a summary of a genius in the mystical realm, and it has supplemented your understanding of the mystical aspects of this era. To some extent, your ability to achieve 'small source simulating large source' and ultimately create a 'divine body' is also due to his efforts.]

And if you receive the benefits, you will naturally keep your promise.

【besides】

In your hands lies the Duke of Bedford, the British Regent and the King's uncle.

You also need to return it.

[Use this as leverage in negotiations]

[To seize benefits for France]

[It would be most appropriate for you, now that you have acquired religious status and become the leader of a church, and are to some extent independent of the secular world and no longer subject to the constraints of the Mage's Association, to do this.]

[After the coronation ceremony]

Your wedding with Jeanne is set for a month later.

You also plan to take advantage of this free time to finish all these things.

...

The ocean currents rose and fell like cascading waves, and the massive ship billowed its sails, propelling it forward with the sea breeze. Although he possessed the ability to cross the sea alone without any tools, Lu Kang still stood at the bow. After all, he had come as an envoy of France, unlike the stealthy journeys he had undertaken in his youth, and naturally, he wanted to make a grand entrance.

A clanging sound of metal colliding came from behind him.

Lu Kang glanced to the side and saw a middle-aged man with a full beard, a thin frame but a large frame, wearing metal shackles, slowly walking on the wooden deck, escorted by several soldiers.

Lu Kang waved his hand, signaling his men to remove his shackles.

"How are you feeling, Your Grace, Duke of Bedford?" he asked with a smile, his tone calm and composed, showing none of the harshness one would show when dealing with prisoners.

The Duke of Bedford stretched his hands, which were slightly sore after the shackles were removed, and simply responded normally, neither humble nor arrogant: "It feels very new."

"This is the first time I've experienced what it means to be a 'prisoner'."

“The first time, and possibly the last—provided you don’t wage war against France again,” Lu Kang said.

"War..." The Duke of Bedford glanced at the handsome young man before him, and the image of the spirited young woman who led thousands of troops and wielded a miraculous army to break through his carefully laid 'pocket' came to mind. He sighed suddenly.

"At least, before you and Joan of Arc die, the whole of England will never dare to wage war again."

"They must be terrified of you by now!"

“If that’s the case, then that would be wonderful, Your Grace.” Lu Kang waved his hand. “Next, I will send you back to your country—your presence will surely help to suppress those rioters within England and bring peace to our two nations in the future.”

"But before that, I'd like to ask you to do something for me."

"Speaking!"

Although the young man before him seemed polite, the Duke of Bedford did not believe that he, as a prisoner and a member of the defeated nation, could truly be on equal footing with him. Although he had been imprisoned for some time, he was not truly unaware of the outside world's news—he understood that this young man, who appeared young and peaceful, was in fact no different from the secular king of France, Joan of Arc, the 'king' of the native French church.

The French Church has even formally declared its independence from the Roman Catholic Church, establishing its own church in the name of the Lord.

It centers on Luca and Joan of Arc, representing the leader and saint of the church.

They also used those three hundred absolutely loyal Templar Knights as their armed force.

Although the details of this local church are very mysterious and no one knows them except those who enter the inner circle, the complete silence from the Vatican suggests that even they are truly helpless in dealing with the situation in France.

A double victory, both worldly and spiritual.

This established their de facto authority and status.

Let's not talk about the present.

Even before, the Duke of Bedford would never have dared to underestimate them.

He would never refuse the commission they offered.

So, facing this 'sensible' English 'Regent,' Lu Kang smiled with satisfaction.

So he looked at him and slowly spoke.

He stated his request.

"I want you to wear a silver mask and temporarily act as my messenger. Use France's victory in this war, and yourself, as a bargaining chip, to seize enough benefits for the French from your own people!"

Bedford was stunned upon hearing this.

He looked up and stared at Lu Kang, as if to make sure he wasn't joking... After a slight hesitation, he nodded.

He knew this concerned his own safety.

It also concerns England's future safety.

This is a crucial decision concerning France: whether or not to cross the sea and attack the English mainland!

If England cannot satisfy the French, they will inevitably take what they want themselves.

This is an opportunity given to us by the other party to preserve the country.

I can only do my best.

We must also do our best.

...

But actually, you didn't think that much about it.

You just want to be lazy.

[Furthermore, they are not afraid of Bedford 'slipping up'.]

You just want to get on with your own things.

[For you, what matters is not the mundane, but the mystical side. And within the territory of England, only the Clock Tower, located in the capital London and hailed as the center of all magicians in Europe and the repository of all magical knowledge, can pique your interest.]

You will be leaving this fleet.

[Bearing the magical crest of the Tramberlio family, he set off alone.]

Visiting alone

【…】

The outskirts of London.

What appears to be an unremarkable collection of ancient buildings is actually the site of the highest institution of magic in Europe during this era.

The essence of magic is secrecy, and making a big show of it is not in line with the principles of magicians. Therefore, the clock tower of this era looks really ordinary on the outside—at least that's what it appears to be before you step inside.

Apart from Big Ben, which can be considered the face of London and was built in the 11th century.

And this moment.

It was right beneath that towering building with its clock hanging in the sky.

On the north bank of the Thames, which flows gently along the city of London to the suburbs.

A group of mysterious figures dressed in long black robes stood respectfully waiting.

They carry an air of mystery.

They are all senior magicians who have completed at least the fourth rank of the Magic Association, the 'Priest' rank.

A misty fog also surrounded them.

This created a dreamlike realm riddled with obstacles.

On top of the tower.

Two figures stood atop the peak, one in front of the other, their sharp, gleaming, dark blue eyes scanning the entire city of London—and indeed, the whole of England.

"It seems that he hasn't set foot on English soil yet."

The figure behind spoke, her figure tall and slender, wearing a tilted lace hat and a dark, somber court dress. Her exposed shoulders were fair and delicate, her slender waist supported her full shoulders and rounded hips, and her legs, wrapped in black silk, swayed under the skirt. She exuded a dark and deadly charm.

Her eyes narrowed, as if they were covered with intricate patterns—layer upon layer, outlining a mysterious 'technique'.