They are all characters I control.

That's an arrest warrant.

The painting depicts a red-haired woman in armor, wielding a longsword, with the words "Eleanor Redgrave, former vice-captain of the Holy Lance Knights" written below.

He was convicted of serious crimes including defection, massacre of civilians, aiding and abetting infidels, and murdering Knight Commander Will, and has been sentenced to death by hanging.

A reward of fifty coins will be given to anyone who provides clues, regardless of whether they are killed or alive; a reward of two hundred coins will be given for their capture.

Eleanor stared at the paper, the color draining from her face little by little.

“I didn’t do this…” Her voice trembled.

“We know,” Grace said, “but the people outside don’t.”

"Where is Commander Will? Is he still alive?"

"Alive, unconscious. Still not awake." A voice came from outside the door.

Eleanor looked up as a girl dressed in dark clothes with her hair in a ponytail walked in. She had grey-blue eyes, looked about twelve or thirteen years old, and was carrying a cloth bag.

"Mel?" Eleanor was taken aback. "What are you doing here?"

“This caravan belongs to my relatives. I’m helping out with the caravan with this relative,” Mel said calmly, placing the cloth bag on the ground and squatting by the fire.

This was the second time she had answered the same question, but compared to the cold disbelief and suspicion of the original 'Eleanor', the real Eleanor in front of her was much easier to deal with.

"Oh, that's good!" Eleanor nodded happily for Mel.

“When you said we were parting ways in the last city, I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to find your relatives. Now that I see you’re doing well, I’m relieved.”

“…” Mel nodded.

She was still a little unaccustomed to Eleanor's attitude at this moment; seeing her like this made her seem even more dangerous.

After all, she might be so gentle one second, and then she might stab you to death the next.

Mel changed the subject: "So, are you going back next? Or back to your hometown?"

"I……"

Eleanor fell silent; she wanted to clear herself of the suspicions against her.

He hoped to prove to the Knights that he had not done those things and to rightfully regain his identity as a church knight.

However, the arrest warrant stated 'life or death is not a concern'.

If she went back, she would definitely be hanged, without a doubt.

Although I don't know when I said I wanted to go back to my hometown, going back to my hometown in the future would not be a bad choice.

She had been serving as a church knight for several years and hadn't been back to her hometown in a long time.

But I'm a wanted criminal now. Is it really okay for me to run home with this identity?

Wouldn't that be betraying everyone's expectations of me?

"What does it matter? Nobody knows you're a wanted criminal, and you live far away." At this moment, the gloomy woman holding the cat's corpse spoke.

She seemed to sense Eleanor's concerns and offered some words of advice, seemingly to comfort her.

"Is she a prisoner too?" Eleanor glanced at Megan, who was completely inconspicuous in the corner and hadn't even noticed her until she spoke.

“Yeah.” Grace shrugged. “She doesn’t talk much, but she’s much more normal than you.”

Eleanor opened her mouth, but she couldn't refute Grace's words.

Even she herself didn't understand what was happening to her. Feeling so lost, going home might be a good choice.

“But I’m a wanted criminal now.” Her voice was low. “If you follow me, you’ll be implicated too.”

“We’ve already been dragged into this.” Mel picked up a piece of toast from the fire, broke it in half, and handed one half to Eleanor: “Eat up. You need to be full to have the strength to think about the next step.”

Eleanor didn't take it; she had absolutely no appetite now.

Clutching the broken blade, she curled up in the corner, motionless.

Grace glanced at her, then at Mel, and shrugged.

“What a strange female knight,” she whispered.

The caravan's campfire continued to burn, trying to dispel the chill of the vast darkness.

Mel stared at Eleanor, who seemed completely unguarded, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and excitement that was hard to decipher.

Go home? You don't have a home.

Chapter 24 The Little Battles of Wits Among the Acting Saintesses

The holy city of Spera.

Isabelle stood in the center of the teleportation array room, looking at the exquisite wooden box.

The box lid was already open, and inside were neatly stacked barrels of wine.

Imperial Beer.

She asked Miss Leah to send these over as soon as possible; Claire should like them, she thought.

After all, this was what he said himself, and it was also confirmed in Miss Lia's notes.

Isabelle took out the bottles of wine one by one and placed them on the shelf to the side. Her movements were very light, as if she were arranging some precious relic.

However, just at that moment, when Isabelle was in a good mood, the annoying voice appeared.

The door behind her was pushed open, and Ophelia walked in.

She wasn't wearing the formal holy robes of the Commandments today, but only a dark blue casual dress, her long silver hair loosely draped over her shoulders.

It looked as if she was resting, but suddenly found out something and rushed over without even having time to change her clothes.

“Isabeth.” She glanced at the wine bottle on the table. “Is this what you had the Imperial parish send over?”

Isabelle did not answer, but just looked at her.

“Don’t be nervous, I’m not here to inspect.” Ophelia walked to the table, poked a hole in the top of the barrel, and tasted the beer on her finger: “Hmm, it’s Imperial beer, good stuff.”

She put down the wine barrel, took two crystal glasses from her sleeve, and placed them on the table.

"Drinking from this will prevent it from being wasted."

The two cups were as clear as ice, gleaming softly under the light, with intricate sacred symbols engraved on their walls.

“What is this?” Isabelle frowned.

“A wine glass,” Ophelia said, “made of crystal from the Holy Spring. He should be pleased to have it in this.”

Isabelle stared at the two cups and remained silent for a moment.

"Ophelia, what exactly do you want?"

“Because I’m curious.” Ophelia looked at Isabelle with a smirk: “I want to know what kind of person that evil god emperor who has been sealed away for over a hundred years really is.”

"He's just a mindless corpse, right?"

“But he can also get you, Isabelle, to sneak off to see him every day, to make you defy the church’s prohibitions to send him food and drink, and to make you come up with those ‘new systems in the Holy City’.”

She paused, then moved closer to Isabelle, and their eyes met.

“He’s not a living dead, is he? He’s awake, he can talk, he can think, and he can even bewitch you.”

Isabelle remained silent, knowing that every word she uttered at this moment could be read by the other party.

Ophelia pushed two cups in front of her: "It's up to you whether you use them or not."

She turned and walked towards the door.

After taking a few steps, he stopped again.

"By the way, the sacred runes on that glass have a purifying effect. When you pour wine into it, it automatically filters out impurities. It won't affect the taste, you know. It's a treasured item."

The door closed.

Isabelle stood by the table, looking at the two crystal glasses, and remained silent for a long time.

Then, she picked one up and examined it closely under the light.

The holy symbols on the cup did indeed have a faint magical fluctuation, belonging to the purification category, and were the same as the symbols on the holy water cups in churches, with no other abnormalities.

She put down her glass and slowly poured the amber-colored liquid into it.

The liquor swirls gently in the glass, releasing a rich, malty aroma.

Isabelle stared at the glass of wine for a long time, but couldn't see anything wrong with it.

But Ophelia was clearly not that kind. She seemed to have rushed over here just to bring two cups.

I don't believe it. That Holy Maiden who acts as the executor of the precepts could never have been doing such a boring thing.

But she didn't just throw the cup away.

Since no one knows what kind of magic Ophelia has set on this cup, if someone else picks it up or touches it, it might cause an even bigger disturbance.

Moreover, Isabelle did not want to arouse Ophelia's suspicion further.

Although Ophelia had guessed that Claire might have awakened, it was only a guess, and she had no evidence to prove her idea.

With that thought in mind, Isabelle placed a sacred seal on the cup that Ophelia had given her before putting it away.

Isabelle turned around, and just as she was using her divine magic to move the wine barrel, she discovered something else inside the wooden crate.

It was something wrapped in a piece of coarse linen and stuffed into a compartment in a wooden box.

She paused for a moment, then took out the cloth bag.

Open it, and inside is a cup.

The workmanship is rough, with several knife marks of varying depths on the cup wall, and even some burrs on the rim, as if it had just been shaved.

But the wood had a faint malty aroma, clearly indicating that it was made from scraps of wood from beer barrels.

Isabelle looked at the wooden cup, which was naturally prepared by Leah.

Setting the wine glass aside, Isabelle, just in case, cast a holy purification spell on the wine barrel in front of her, which could purify both poison and other magical potions.

Isabelle was relieved after confirming that the drinks were safe.

She left Ophelia's crystal goblet in the cabinet, taking only Lia's wooden goblet and the wine barrel with her, and walked out of the teleportation room.

On the other side, Ophelia stood at the window of her room, looking at the white dome of the holy city under the moonlight.

She was playing with a crystal about the size of a thumb in her hand. Dark red patterns were slowly flowing inside the crystal, like some kind of living thing.

"Did you see those bottles of wine being taken in?" She didn't turn around.

“Yes, Your Excellency,” the Sister of Judgment behind him replied in a low voice. “Lady Isabelle has taken the wine back to her prayer room.”

"What about my cup?"

"It was left in the room with the teleportation array." The black-robed Sister of Judgment paused. "Lady Isabelle doesn't seem to want to use your cup."

Ophelia's fingers paused for a moment. "Is that so? It doesn't matter."

She waved her hand, and the judging nun silently withdrew.

Ophelia walked to the table and placed the crystal beside the candlelight. The dark red patterns within the crystal began to flow faster, as if activated by something.

She closed her eyes, letting her thoughts extend outwards following the magical fluctuations.

This is a secret of the Inquisition, a special potion used for tracking, colorless and odorless, undetectable by holy magic, and impossible to remove with any known purification potion.

It will not cause harm to the human body, but will only leave a "mark" that only the Sisters of Judgment can perceive.

Ophelia added the potion to that batch of beer.

It wasn't about adding it to the glass. Isabelle was more cautious than she had imagined. Changing the glass only changed the container for the wine; it didn't change the wine's original purpose.

At this moment, Ophelia could sense the whereabouts of the wine through the crystal before her.

A prayer room?

Ophelia frowned slightly; she had assumed Isabelle would be hiding somewhere else.

I never expected it to be in the prayer room.

She turned her perception to its highest level, trying to "see" the situation inside the prayer room.

But just as her consciousness saw a dark entrance, accompanied by a low rumble, her potion perception was interrupted.