Ceres, Ceres Olkamain (1)

That definitely looks like ivory…

Or maybe marble. But no carriage in its right mind would go clattering around paneled entirely in marble. And before that — was it even legal? Were there even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠elephants on this continent? Could you actually harvest enough ivory to plaster a carriage with it? Weren't elephants a protected species? So, marble then? If it was marble, what would a carriage paneling that size even weigh? Were the horses going to survive?

The interior of the carriage was so extravagantly lavish that these were the kinds of thoughts rattling around Yona's head.

Every surface was finished in a material that gleamed like fresh-fallen white stone, and for something that was, nominally, a carriage, it was enormous — by Yona's rough estimate, as long as a single car of the subway from her old world.

She remembered counting eight horses when they'd boarded. The very fact that eight horses could pull this thing was astonishing in itself; it was gorgeous, and huge, and looked impossibly heavy.

The seats installed all around the carriage's perimeter were no ordinary luxury either.

Not straw-and-leaves stuffing, not by a long shot — this was unmistakably cotton padding, plush and yielding underfoot, the kind of cushioning that swallowed you the moment you sat down.

"Big sis, look at this! This round thing is all smooth and shiny — it's just like Mr. Alec's head!"

Running her fingers over the round ornament at the tip of the armrest between the seats, Rubina looked up at Yona.

"Rubina, you can't just touch whatever you want."

Yona hastily stopped her, half-convinced something might break.

At that, Ceres, who had been watching from the seat across, let out a light laugh.

"If it breaks, we simply reattach it. Touch and play as much as you like. I absolutely adore children, so please, make yourselves at home, hmm?"

"…Still, all the same…"

"If this carriage were fragile enough to break that easily, wouldn't something have gone wrong the moment Mr. Kayak and Mr. James sat down?"

Well. Fair point.

At the end of Ceres's gesturing finger, Kayak and James were sprawled deep into the seats.

Both stood well over two meters and weighed far more than any ordinary man, yet even sprawled out and completely relaxed, the seats showed not a hint of strain — and the carriage didn't lean their way so much as a hair.

Eight people were riding in this carriage right now.

Ceres.

Ludwig.

Vigrind.

Yona.

Alec.

Kayak.

James.

Rubina.

With that many aboard, the carriage was still so spacious that no one felt the least bit crowded.

It had been less than an hour since they'd set out.

They were bound for the Infula Holy See, and Yona's party had joined the journey as escorts — though to Yona, it seemed doubtful any escorting was truly needed.

Cathedral knights rode alongside the carriage on horseback, ringing it front and back, left and right.

According to Ceres, this was a plain, standard escort — a bit thin for a party containing the Hero and the Saintess. Which begged the question: what on earth did a non-standard escort look like?

"Now then, Miss Rubina."

At the sound of Ceres's voice, Rubina — who had been nestling against Yona, fiddling with everything within reach — snapped her head up.

A plate piled high with cookies, and a tiny dish of honey for dipping them in.

Ceres held the plate up for Rubina to see, then unfolded the folding table built into the seat beside her and set it down.

"There we go. Auntie would like to have a little chat with Yona, so why don't you come sit here and have a snack, hmm?"

"Yes, yes, ma'am!"

Before Yona could get a single word out, Rubina hopped down and scampered straight over to Ceres.

Ceres gave the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠girl's hair — pinned up neatly with a little butterfly clasp — a gentle stroke, smiled warmly, and vacated her seat.

"There are plenty of cookies, so eat as many as you like. Sit right there while you do. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am~!"

Rubina beamed a smile absolutely overflowing with barely contained delight.

Ceres rose, and the moment Rubina settled into the seat, Ceres lightly lifted the girl and helped her sit properly against the cushions.

"Now then, Miss Yona. Shall we have our chat?"

Each time Ceres drew closer, her silver hair swayed softly with the motion.

Yona's own white hair was, frankly, no better than a dog's coat — no matter how carefully she brushed it, it would go bristly and stray within minutes. Ceres's silver hair, by contrast, lay sleek and smooth, and seen up close like this, Yona couldn't help but envy it.

"About what?"

The moment Ceres sat down in the seat that had been Rubina's — now empty — Yona asked, her voice thick with wariness.

They were somewhat closer than they had been at their first meeting, granted. But even so, letting a noblewoman like this sidle up to her without a shred of hesitation made her skin crawl.

"Nothing serious. I just wanted to ask you about something for a moment… hm, no. That won't do, will it."

Ceres's gaze slid from Yona's face down to her right arm.

The holy shroud had been shredded past any hope of use, so she'd had Alec fetch a roll of wide bandages and wound it around the arm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in strips.

And with every shift of that gaze, Yona's heart pounded harder.

They were just letters. Nothing more than writing.

But their destination ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the Infula Holy See itself.

And more than that — Ceres was the Regent of the Grand Duchy of Carpatia and the chief elder of the Heavenly God Church's Carpatia branch. If she decided Yona was a heretic, or a cultist—

Yona might well end up seated just to the diagonal right of those cultists currently undergoing interrogation in the crypt beneath Carpatia Grand Cathedral. And then, after brutal torture, she might lose an arm. Something like that was entirely possible.

"Shall we keep it just between us, then? A little secret from the others."

Ceres flashed what she clearly meant to be a sweet smile at Yona, then snapped her fingers with a crisp click.

And nothing happened.

Rubina was still happily smiling over her honey-drenched cookies; Ludwig, Kayak, and James were busy talking amongst themselves.

Vigrind, seated at the far back, was still glaring at Ceres and Yona with sharp, unblinking eyes.

"There. Now we can speak freely."

"Um… nothing's changed, though…?"

Because truly, nothing had.

At least as far as Yona could see, everything looked exactly the same.

"However it may look to you, to everyone else right now we're simply having an ordinary conversation. So there's no need to worry, you see?"

If Ceres said so, then presumably so.

Yona had no particular desire to argue about a field of knowledge she knew nothing about.

Some kind of magic, presumably.

"Yes, well… anyway. What, um… what did you want to talk about?"

"Let's see. What indeed… For example."

Ceres's gaze drifted once more to Yona's right shoulder.

And from there, she let her eyes travel slowly down the length of the entire arm.

"About that scripture of the Heavenly God Church— the Rite of Inscription covering your right arm."

Yona's whole body went rigid.

And as if she had anticipated exactly that reaction, Ceres let a long, low laugh curl from her lips.

"That — the inscription of the Era of No Echo — hm?"

By the time the sun had slipped past the western ridge and darkness was settling in for the night, the carriage rolled into a city.

The checkpoint waved them through the instant Ceres presented her official plate, and the carriage swept down the main avenue straight to the residence of the city's administrator.

To the official and his staff, thrown into a panic by this wholly unexpected guest, it must have felt like lightning from a clear sky. Yona felt nothing at all.

More precisely — she had no room in her head to spare for such trivial things.

"Hey. You eating or not?"

Alec carefully slid her plate toward himself, picked out the carrots, and transferred them to his own. Then he pushed the plate back in front of her — and Yona still didn't react.

"Got all the carrots out. You eating?"

It was a properly arranged meal by anyone's standards, and it didn't taste bad, but Yona just sat there staring blankly, as if her mind had wandered off somewhere entirely.

"Hey. Yona."

"…Huh? Wha— what?"

"I said, are you eating."

In the end it took a sharp jab to Yona's side from Alec before she finally came back to herself.

"R- right. I should eat. Yeah."

Only then did she pick up her fork and answer airily.

She speared a chunk of meat slow-braised in sauce, pushed it into her mouth, and chewed absently, half-tasting it, lost in thought again.

"Something happen?"

"No, no. Nothing happened."

"Oh sure. That's not the face of someone nothing happened to."

"Seriously, nothing. Don't worry about it. I've lost my appetite, so I'm going to turn in early. Look after Rubina for me."

"Ah— yeah, sure."

Alec couldn't bring himself to stop her as she set down her fork and rose.

In the span of those few hours, her face had gone drawn and haggard — and her already pale complexion had drained to an outright corpse-white. It was deeply strange.

"…Wait, were there carrots left on her plate? There weren't any peppers to begin with, but…"

He pulled her plate back over and checked. There were no peppers on it, of course — but no carrots either.

That night.

Yona stood in front of a door and took a deep breath.

The memory of Ceres's voice, whispering at her very ear, was still vividly, unbearably clear.

…Whew.

Taking one more long, steadying breath, Yona finally steeled herself and raised her hand to knock.

And at that very moment, the door slid open with a whisper, and there stood Ceres.

Looking at Yona's face — so startled she'd forgotten to breathe — Ceres gave a faint smile.

"I was wondering why you'd been standing out there for so long. So you've finally made up your mind to come in. Do hurry inside."

At those words, Yona bit down hard on her lip and stepped into Ceres's room.