As soon as the Bishop appeared, the crowd automatically parted to make way for him.
This old man, already in his eighties, would be respected by all even without his identity as Bishop.
Flora had seen him before.
Once, her father had wanted her to become a member of the Priest Order, and spent a fortune to create an opportunity for her to visit this Bishop.
At that time, she and the Bishop had exchanged words; the impression he left her was that of a man whose faith was pure and wisdom profound.
For him to attend this banquet and personally bestow her honor, even if she was now forced to accept Moria’s arrangements in her current state, Flora still could not help but feel honored.
“Sherman Foka, it is my honor, before retiring from the Bishop’s post, to confer a title upon the lord you recommended, Miss Delan.”
Despite his age, Bishop Sherman looked full of vigor; he remained upright and, like a perfect gentleman, first paid respects to the hostess of the banquet, then turned to Lisette, who walked slowly into the hall, and bowed slightly.
“Your Highness, Princess.”
“Bishop.”
Lisette nodded in response.
Apart from the two of them, Bishop Sherman did not interact with anyone else.
His standing meant there was no need to exchange pleasantries with the majority of nobles present; even the Emperor would show him respect.
Flora showed no initiative; she simply stood quietly beside Linko, waiting for what would come next.
The nobles’ attempts to make things difficult for her had become an obvious pattern.
With Moria’s deliberate arrangements, there was little she could do.
At a time like this, choosing to remain unchanged in the face of changing circumstances was the only way to avoid falling into an even more passive position.
This also aligned with the strategy she had set from the start—to hold back and react to each move as it came.
“Just now, it sounded like someone was giving a lecture in the hall. That should be Miss Liz, I presume?”
Bishop Sherman glanced around, his eyes settling on the attendant beside Lisette.
Liz nodded in response, and the Bishop sighed.
“Is there actually an objection to tonight’s main ceremony of conferment? This is truly the first time I’ve seen such a thing in years.”
He had presided over many knighthood ceremonies and was well versed in handling such matters.
If anyone objected, he would become the judge of whether the ceremony would proceed.
This was never a good thing—it would bring no small amount of trouble.
Especially since it was the daughter of Duke Delan’s recommended candidate being treated this way—if he ultimately refused to approve the conferment, his own reputation might not survive unscathed.
But that did not matter.
As a bishop, he had long come to terms with life and death.
As for reputation, a man of his age need not care too much.
What mattered most was lessening trouble for His Majesty.
He swept his eyes over the crowd again, searching for the banquet’s main character—the one he was to confer the title upon—intending to form a rough impression before making his decision.
But there were too many nobles present; with one glance, he gained nothing useful.
“Bishop, the one Miss Moria wishes to recommend is a healer in their party, an obscure one at that, who claims to be the true creator of that miraculous frostbite remedy.
Based on nothing but her own word, to entrust such an honor personally bestowed by you to her seems far too rash.”
The questioning of Flora did not fade with Bishop Sherman’s arrival.
Instead, it grew sharper.
Flora glanced at the speaker—a woman dressed in exquisite finery, clearly a direct descendant of a ducal family, and about the same age as Moria.
But Flora had little impression of this young lady.
“Miss Liz, there’s no need for you to remind me that the Empire’s titles cannot be lightly bestowed. Now then, Miss Delan, where is this Miss Flora you wish to recommend?”
“Flora.”
Moria was as composed as ever, her gaze shifting slightly toward Flora.
Such a look, as if asking whether she was ready, did not faze Flora; her expression unchanged, she fixed her eyes on Tatashimi, who had been standing silent beside Elka since entering and was staring straight at her.
Moria’s lips curled into a faint smile.
She was quite pleased with Flora’s quick reaction.
After all, if the main character of the night couldn’t detect the grand surprise she had prepared, what would be the point?
“Bishop.”
Seeing the meaningful smile on that woman’s face, Flora set aside her unease, ignoring the looks from Tatashimi and Elka.
She stepped forward, calmly meeting Bishop Sherman’s gaze.
“Your name is Flora?”
The Bishop’s gaze carried no hint of judgment, and not even the collar around her neck—a humiliating sight—caused any visible change in the color of his eyes.
“Yes.”
Flora answered his gaze just as calmly and crisply.
The old man nodded.
For some reason, Flora felt he was quite satisfied with her response.
“Then come with me to the stage. If any of you have questions, please raise them in due time. The Church will follow the Empire’s law for the selection of lords and make the most appropriate decision.”
As he spoke, he gestured invitingly to Flora.
This move left the other guests exchanging glances.
Clearly, as the Bishop, this was not what he was supposed to do during the normal proceedings.
Flora could see that the person who had tried to question her earlier was already gnashing her teeth in frustration.
“Bishop?”
Flora hesitated slightly.
Could things really be this smooth?
Could Moria have actually chosen to be lenient because of her obedience and not make things difficult for her?
Recalling what someone had done to Aurora not long ago, Flora knew such a thought was unrealistic.
Moria’s leniency was not the same as that of ordinary people.
When she said she wouldn’t make trouble over one thing, it meant she would strike hard on another.
The smoother things seemed now, the worse they would be later.
Flora couldn’t help but glance at Tatashimi and Elka again.
The two were no longer looking at her, but were discussing something with Moria.
Looking back at the Bishop, she saw he had already started up to the stage.
The twelve priests from the Priest Order who had accompanied him to the banquet were now standing in two lines, forming a path from the nobility to the stage.
Like pure guardians inviting one to ascend to heaven, they created a strangely ceremonial avenue of welcome.
The odd atmosphere made her feel even more uneasy.
“No need to be nervous, Miss Flora.”
The Bishop’s kindly voice soothed Flora’s discomfort somewhat.
She took a steadying breath, glanced at Linko who was pressing her lips together, ignored the various stares of the guests, and walked toward the stage with poise.
Perhaps she was just overthinking it.
Deep down, she knew better than anyone that once she reached the stage and stood before the Bishop, her public identity would be fully confirmed in the eyes of all.
Flora, healer of the Flora Heart party, the Empire’s new lord, a noble just like everyone else here—one of the kind she detested.
This was a trial, and a transformation.
A change of status could corrupt the heart; it was never something that willpower alone could resist while keeping one’s true self.
Moria’s most obvious goal for her was to make her abandon her former self and become the Flora they wanted.
By publicly acknowledging her new identity, the power of the law’s binding upon her name would be fully brought to bear.
She stopped walking.
“Bishop.”
No hesitation, no confusion.
She had long since made up her mind, knowing clearly that she would have to give up much to achieve her desired end.
Even if, deep down, she truly saw herself as a noble and had always been Flora—so what?
As long as she achieved the future she wanted, without betraying her own principles, it was enough.
After all, Fros Camille was already dead.
She looked up and met Bishop Sherman’s calm eyes.
“Please don’t be too lenient with me. I will be the kind of person worthy of your expectations, and worthy of becoming a lord of the Empire.”