All kinds of unpleasant words buzzed around Ron's ears like flies.
Ron didn't take them to heart. After all, these past few days, his true body had been traveling as a guard, and along the way, he had already heard passersby discussing him for quite some time.
Seated in the carriage, Puppet Ron withdrew his gaze and looked calmly at the city guard outside.
"Your devout prayers to the Goddess will surely be received. You've already inspected the entry documents—please let us pass. Don't keep the people behind us waiting."
The guard had been loudly announcing the return of the Seventh Prince to everyone around them. It was obvious he had been instructed to do so on purpose.
But arguing with him would solve nothing. Worse, it would make the Seventh Prince seem petty and narrow-minded.
It simply wasn't worth it.
As for the surrounding crowd, there were likely planted agitators among them as well, deliberately fanning the flames and stirring up emotions.
If the original Ron André had truly been sitting in this carriage, faced with such rumors and slander, he might have developed all kinds of negative emotions—perhaps even suffered a breakdown under the pressure.
But for Ron, the transmigrator, although the words were unpleasant, they weren't enough to depress him.
The guard had already achieved his goal. He returned the entry documents to the nun and immediately announced that they could pass.
By then, however, news of the Seventh Prince's return to the Royal Capital had already spread through the city like ripples from a stone dropped into a lake.
Thus, as Ron's convoy slowly made its way down the crowded streets, they had to endure the various gazes and buzzing whispers of the surrounding pedestrians.
Walking at the rear of the convoy, Buffett was close enough to the bystanders to hear plenty of harsh insults. At first, he impatiently dug at his ears.
Eventually, he got used to it.
After all, these commoners were limited in education. When they cursed, they only repeated the same few phrases over and over again—utterly lacking in creativity. Not a shred of true venom.
There were also many people discussing his "seven wives," which left him feeling somewhat melancholic.
If it were true, then fine—let them talk.
But the truth was, he hadn't even held hands with any of these so-called seven wives, yet people were already making up stories about him.
Here he was, a pure and innocent good man, slandered into some seasoned romantic veteran.
It was like everyone insisting you'd eaten shit when you absolutely hadn't.
The more he thought about it, the more unfair it felt.
"Your Highness Ron, we'll head to the church first. The Archbishop has been waiting for quite some time."
"Mm." Puppet Ron nodded, his gaze drifting across the streets.
The Royal Capital looked much the same as it had in the memories he had absorbed from the original host.
After all, the original Ron had only left in September of this year, and it was now nearing the end of December.
Compared to the chaotic mix of architectural styles in the City of Chaos, the Royal Capital's buildings were mostly unified in a European medieval style, fond of stone columns, arches, and domes.
They were also remarkably tall. The tallest structure in the city—the Royal Observatory Tower—stood over a hundred meters high.
Even the main cathedrals of the Three Great Churches exceeded seventy meters.
The hotpot restaurant Mia had purchased earlier on Central Street was seven stories tall, likely over twenty meters in height.
"Your Highness Ron, where will you be staying tonight? If you don't plan to return to the palace, I can arrange a courtyard for you at the convent."
At that, Ron's eyes lit up. "The nuns who participated in the previous sacrificial ceremony—they should all be at the convent in the Royal Capital, right?"
"…Yes."
"Then I'll stay at the convent. The atmosphere in the palace is too stifling."
"Your Highness Ron…"
"Mm?"
"Nuns are not allowed to marry."
"…What kind of person do you take me for?"
The carriage crawled through the vast Royal Capital for over an hour before finally stopping in front of a domed cathedral.
The Grand Cathedral of the Goddess of Harvest — Hervesta.
Even though the Church of the Goddess of Harvest was the poorest among the Three Great Churches, its main cathedral still covered an immense area.
Beyond the domed main hall lay a vast complex of smaller prayer halls, baptism chambers, and confession rooms.
To one side stood the retreat house, the convent, the missionary hall, and the ascetic quarters.
As soon as the carriage stopped, the Archbishop stepped out from the cathedral's main entrance to personally welcome Ron.
Ron had no intention of exposing the existence of the puppet to the Archbishop, so his true body did not appear. Instead, he controlled Puppet Ron to step out of the carriage, exchange formal greetings with the Archbishop, and follow him inside the cathedral.
As for whether Sylvie would reveal the puppet's existence to the Archbishop—that was beyond Ron's control.
"Your Highness Ron, was the journey smooth?" the Archbishop asked politely.
Puppet Ron nodded casually. "Quite smooth. Just had a few too many 'guests.'"
The Archbishop chuckled. "Now that Your Highness has arrived in the Royal Capital, what do you plan to do?"
"Just open a flower shop and do a little small business."
The Archbishop didn't believe a word of it, but he expressed his support all the same and exchanged a few more pleasantries.
In his view, since Ron had chosen to return to the Royal Capital, he must have made up his mind to compete for a share of power at the center of authority.
The Church of the Goddess of Harvest was more than happy to see that—and could assist at any time.
Ron could roughly guess what the Archbishop was thinking, but he couldn't be bothered to point it out.
He had already realized that when it came to fighting for the throne, no matter how much he tried to explain, no one would believe him.
At best, they would humor him on the surface while continuing to suspect him behind his back.
So he went straight to the point.
"Where did the assassins who attacked me these past few days come from? And who is behind the spread of all these rumors around the Royal Capital?"
The reason Ron hadn't used the spatial teleportation array to travel directly to the Royal Capital—and had instead taken a carriage all the way north—was precisely to stir the waters like a catfish, allowing the Archbishop, an onlooker, to see certain things more clearly.
The Archbishop laughed a few times, thinking to himself that although Ron said he wasn't interested, his actions told a different story.
There he was, immediately asking about the identities of those hidden opponents—clearly planning to deal with them in the future.
"It's mainly the Church of the God of War orchestrating things from behind the scenes. The Church of the Healing God is also adding fuel to the fire. After all, your arrival in the Royal Capital as one favored by the Goddess poses the greatest threat to their two churches."
"There are also certain nobles and officials with vested interests involved. The detailed information has already been compiled. I'll have Sylvie deliver it to you shortly."
The answer didn't surprise Ron. It had been easy enough to guess; this merely confirmed it.
After finishing their discussion of serious matters, they chatted a bit more. The Archbishop hoped that this favored one of the Goddess could spare some time to preside over a few prayer services at the cathedral, and Ron readily agreed.
At that moment, a missionary hurried into the cathedral and approached them.
"Your Grace Archbishop, Your Highness Ron—His Majesty Emperor André III has sent word. He invites Your Highness Ron to enter the palace and join him for dinner this evening."