“No wonder you knew the ancient language… What?!”
Morgana, who had been nodding to reassure Percival’s mother, flinched in shock at the unexpected confession, her shoulders jerking up. She quickly shut her mouth, realizing how impolite her blatant surprise must have seemed—but it was already too late.
As if expecting that reaction, Percival’s mother, Herzel, continued to fidget with her trembling hands clasped together.
“My name is Herzel.”
It was the first time Morgana had heard her name.
Herzel’s trembling, which had been constant whenever she avoided speaking about herself, finally stopped. Her pale eyes stared straight at Morgana.
“I am that Herzel—one of the three priestesses who showed talent in the ancient language and was assigned to decipher old scriptures.”
Her steady voice and posture made it clear that she had indeed been a priestess.
At that moment, Nimue’s words flashed through Morgana’s mind.
‘So the priestess who escaped alive was Percival’s mother!’
Living secluded in the mountains and avoiding populated areas, no one could have known.
When Morgana had sought Herzel’s permission to entrust Tir na Nog to Percival, Herzel had asked if she had ever served in a temple after receiving the letter written in the ancient language.
‘She was checking because she herself had fled.’
But was it really okay for Morgana to hear this secret—one Herzel had hidden so deeply that she refused to even come down from the mountains?
With concern, Morgana asked, “Are you sure you should be telling me this?”
“Because I can trust you.”
A faint, warm smile flickered across Herzel’s lips. Still fidgeting with the robe Morgana had draped over her, she continued slowly.
“You never asked for more, even though I sent you herbs. And you kept your promise to teach Percival well.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“That’s why I was worried.”
Herzel’s voice, which had sounded like nothing more than a worried mother’s just moments ago, suddenly turned icy. Her eyelids trembled as she tightly grasped Morgana’s hands.
“You said you’d never been to the temple. Do you have any idea how shocked I was when I heard someone who knew the ancient language suddenly headed there?”
The sincerity in her words was palpable.
Herzel had been so desperate that she risked descending the mountain and secretly asked Raon to deliver a letter for her.
Morgana placed a hand gently over the back of Herzel’s hand and smiled calmly.
“It’s alright. You made it here safely, didn’t you?”
“If you knew how I escaped the temple, you wouldn’t be smiling like this. You were just very lucky.”
She bit her dry lips hard before continuing, “After the Sacred Texts appeared, I became a priestess. While studying them, I realized I had a talent for ancient languages.”
It seemed Herzel had entered the priesthood after the barriers to becoming a priestess had lowered.
As if recalling that day, fine wrinkles formed between her brows.
A faint melancholy tinged her voice as she reminisced.
“The High Priest summoned me. He told me to join him in deciphering the remaining ancient texts.”
“How was that different from other priestesses?”
“Even without divine power, I was treated as a high-ranking priestess. I could even enter the main temple—something normally forbidden. All because of the High Priest’s permission.”
Considering how strictly guarded the main temple was, it was practically the highest honor for a priestess without divine power.
After all, only saints were usually allowed in such a place.
Herzel took a deep breath, steadying her voice, which kept threatening to turn rough.
“The High Priest ordered me to search for the ‘Holy Grail.’ Back then, I was so eager, foolishly believing I had earned his recognition.”
“Do you regret it?”
She smiled bitterly and countered, “Do you know what happened to the two priestesses who deciphered the ancient texts before me?”
“I heard they died.”
“That’s right. They died because they had people they cherished.”
A fiery rage burned in her eyes.
Just the memory seemed to fill her with fury—more intense than anything she had shown so far.
“Family, friends, lovers. Merlin killed every single one of them. All under the excuse that they might leak the contents of the ancient texts.”
Herzel’s once-calm voice trembled with force, like a surging wave.
“It was all a lie! He killed them just so I would focus solely on the texts—so I wouldn’t care about anything else!”
Raon’s shop was safe, but just in case, Morgana quickly grabbed her shoulder in urgency.
However, Herzel spat out her words explosively fast.
“My husband was killed by Merlin the moment our marriage was promised! If the priests found out and resisted, they’d be next too!”
Panting heavily, she gritted her teeth and wiped the tears welling in her eyes with the back of her hand.
It was Merlin who had killed Percival’s father. Herzel exhaled sharply, her breath ragged as if forcing out the words.
“On the day he died, I found out I was pregnant with Percival. To protect the child, I risked my life and fled the Holy Kingdom.”
Throughout the conversation, Herzel never once addressed Merlin with honorifics. That was how deep her hatred ran.
Morgana gently soothed her and asked, “If it was so dangerous, how did you even consider coming down after reading the letter I sent in Gaulish?”
“No one from the temple could’ve sent a letter like that. Merlin would’ve been watching.”
Now, her concern made sense.
It was no surprise she was shocked—Morgana knew Gaulish but nothing about Merlin, yet claimed to have visited the temple.
And there was one more thing she learned.
Until now, she couldn’t understand why Merlin so stubbornly cast curses or what her goal was.
But Herzel clearly stated that Merlin was searching for the ‘Holy Grail.’
‘When I saw the ancient document, what Nimue warned me not to speak of, what Merlin refused to explain—it was all about the Grail.’
Morgana lifted the rope pouch she had been covering. She pulled out the tightly rolled ancient document inside and openly showed it to her.
“I received the third ancient document from the temple, you see? Thanks to that, I saw the others, but this one had slightly different characters.”
Before she could even unroll the parchment, Herzel let out a bitter laugh in recognition.
“Ha, that document is a fake. It was made around the same time as the others, but since it’s not in Gaulish, it was always considered forged.”
No wonder they gave it up so easily. But there were clearly parts that aligned with ancient language.
It was just deliberately made difficult to read.
‘If it was dismissed as fake because it wasn’t ancient language, doesn’t that mean it could be real if it were ancient language?’
Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Morgana hesitated before answering.
“No wonder there’s nothing here about the Holy Grail. Why is Merlin searching for it?”
“They say the Holy Grail grants wishes. It was written that if one learns its location, the divine beast will guide the way.”
“Ah, so that’s why…!”
No wonder Merlin was so fixated on the divine beast. But it seemed he didn’t know the Grail’s location, so the beast couldn’t lead him.
‘A Holy Grail that grants wishes…’
It seemed Merlin desperately needed something.
💫
The main hall of the temple.
In an empty room, a small black portal swirled open in midair.
The hole, barely large enough to fit a fist, revealed nothing inside. From a distance, one might mistake it for a hand mirror.
From within, the innocent voice of a child flowed out.
So?”
Despite the childlike tone, the question was icy and sharp.
Before that youthful voice, Merlin bowed his head.
“The divine beast was taken from me.”
“Tsk, this is why half-baked demons are useless.”
The undisguised sneer made Merlin grip his high priest robes discreetly.
Merlin was the high priest. The decisive authority governing the neutral and sacred lands, the one most trusted by the gods, the one who delivered divine prophecies revered by all across the continent.
Yet here she was, enduring insults from a voice so young its owner couldn’t even be seen, biting her lip in silence.
The child’s voice lashed out even harsher.
“What’s the point of keeping you in the high priest’s seat? You’re utterly incompetent.”
“…I’ll get it back soon.”
“Hah, struggling over a measly holy sword. Whatever. Conversation only works with someone who understands—no point wasting my breath on a fool.”
With a final scoff from a childlike voice, the black portal vanished into thin air without a trace.
Shivering, Merlin clutched his priestly robes and took a moment to steady his breath before he began hurling whatever was in front of him.
“Half-breed, half-breed! Did you think I became a half-breed because I wanted to?!”
Crash!
A flowerpot shattered in her grip, a table overturned, and holy books tumbled across the floor.
Unable to contain his fury, Merlin gnashed his teeth and flung objects at Nimue, who stood frozen outside the door, unable to enter.
“Happy now? You knew Excalibur had the power to return to its owner, yet you hid it from me?!”
“…”
Clang!
Nimue kept her head bowed, staring only at the shattered dishes scattered across the floor.
Still seething, Merlin stomped toward her. Grabbing Nimue’s hair, Merlin forced her head up.
With a bitter smile, he asked, “What? You don’t want to talk to me either because I’m just a half-breed born between a demon and a human?”
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