Chapter 24
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 24
As the young Crown Prince led his retinue into the sprawling grounds of Mordawin Monastery, hundreds of citizens lined the path, scattering flower petals in his wake.
Gareth raised a hand in a practiced gesture of acknowledgment. The cheers of the crowd grew thunderous. It was a ritual he had repeated until he was sick of it over the past few days, yet it was one he never quite grew tired of. Tilting his chin higher, he spurred his horse forward with an air of triumph.
Once they cleared the crowded, bustling streets, a wide courtyard and a magnificent temple revealed themselves. He brought the knights to a halt in front of a building that appeared to be a house of prayer.
"You have traveled a long way. It must have been a grueling journey."
A moment later, a man dressed in snow-white monastic robes walked out to meet him.
Gareth studied him intently from atop his horse. The man’s features were as sharp as an arrowhead, framed by pale silver hair with a faint bluish tint. He quickly realized that this young monk was not entirely human. His complexion was unnaturally pale, and the tips of his ears were pointed.
A half-elf, or perhaps a quarter-elf, Gareth mused.
It wasn’t an unusual sight. In the northeastern regions of the old Kingdom of Osiria, it wasn’t difficult to find demi-humans with traces of elf or dwarf blood.
Suppressing his instinctive revulsion for other races, Gareth asked in a dignified tone, "Are you the Abbot here?"
"I am, Your Noble Highness. My name is Basilis, and I have been entrusted with the management of this monastery." The man wore a gentle smile. "I sincerely welcome you to Mordawin."
"This land is where my ancestor, Great Emperor Darian, won his first victory against the North. It is a sacred place where he received the revelation of his mission to unify the nations. I, too, am truly pleased to be here," Gareth said, dismounting with the practiced, haughty grace unique to the imperial bloodline.
"In accordance with imperial tradition, I wish to receive a blessing in the names of the saints. Pray that divine grace follows the future of both myself and my sister."
"I shall fulfill your request with a joyful heart," the Abbot replied politely before adding cautiously, "For now, why not head to my private residence to recover from the fatigue of your journey? We have been preparing a grand banquet for several days to welcome Your Highness."
Gareth hesitated. By protocol, they were supposed to stay in the lodgings intended for pilgrims. Staying at the Abbot’s private residence could potentially be seen as an opening for political solicitation.
Gareth glanced back at Barkas, who stood behind him like a shadow. Barkas had his face half-hidden under a voluminous hood, seemingly wishing to avoid drawing attention. After a long pause, Barkas, who had been surveying the monastery as if lost in thought, gave a small nod.
"Do as Your Highness pleases."
"Very well. We shall stay at the Abbot’s residence tonight."
As soon as he gave his permission, the waiting servants descended the stairs in perfect order to attend to the guests. Gareth handed over his reins and gave Barkas a final instruction.
"Make sure you look after Aila well. This is her first time traveling so far; everything will feel strange and uncomfortable to her."
Barkas, who was patting his own horse, gave a slight nod.
Gareth scowled. If only he showed half as much devotion to my sister as he does to his horse.
Muttering to himself, Gareth followed the monks. Suddenly, an ornate carriage positioned at the edge of the clearing caught his eye. He glared at the carriage window, which was draped with thick curtains, his brow furrowing.
Whether she was finally being cautious or had simply realized her place, Thalia Roem Guirta had remained shut inside throughout the entire journey, never showing her face. It made his firm resolve to wring her slender neck the moment she tried anything feel almost hollow.
It would be best if she stayed quiet like this, but...
There was no way Thalia Roem Guirta would do that. She was a woman who had tagged along with foul intentions in the first place. There was no telling when, where, or what kind of trouble she might stir up.
Gareth, staring intensely at the carriage, barked sharply at Barkas.
"And tell that woman clearly: stay out of my sight and live as quiet as a dead mouse, just as she has been doing."
Barkas’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He seemed displeased that Gareth was openly displaying hostility toward his half-sister. Come to think of it, Barkas had uncharacteristically nagged him earlier to watch his words and actions for the sake of his reputation.
Gareth let out a pointed snort and turned away. Was there anyone among the citizens of the Empire who didn’t know the Crown Prince wanted to tear his father’s bastard child to pieces? Why bother keeping it a secret?
He held his chin high and followed the priests to the grand mansion situated behind the main hall.
The Abbot’s residence was as luxurious as any annex in the Imperial Palace. A satisfied smile touched Gareth’s lips at the thought that he could at least spend tonight in comfort. He stepped into the magnificent hall following the monks.
The Abbot led him to the most opulent room in the mansion. Gareth looked around the spacious bedroom with a critical eye. As it was the room usually used by the Abbot, paintings depicting holy wars hung throughout, and prayer books and theological texts sat upon the desk.
The decorations weren’t to his taste, but otherwise, it met his standards. He tossed aside his cloak, which smelled of horses, and gave orders to the servants waiting by the door.
"I wish to wash first. Prepare a large tub full of clean water—one big enough for me to stretch my legs."
As the servants dispersed, he sat in a chair by the window and gestured to the squires who had followed him. At the silent command, the two boys immediately began to strip off his armor.
Gareth left himself to their care and picked up a wine glass from a shelf. A quick-witted servant immediately filled it. He leaned back against the chair and took a sip of the chilled wine. The thick liquid slid down his throat, and a rich bouquet filled his senses.
He let out a languid groan, savoring the intense flavor on the tip of his tongue. He felt he could look forward to the banquet. The wine prepared by the monastery suited his palate quite well, even though he was accustomed to all sorts of rare vintages.
The holy land business must be quite lucrative, he thought, his lips curling as he looked out the window at the monastery’s vast grounds. High-ranking priests often enjoyed wealth that rivaled that of most nobles. The Abbot here was undoubtedly living a life as extravagant as any great lord.
Freed from his heavy armor, Gareth shed his sweat-soaked clothes and plunged into the bathwater the monks had prepared. Servants immediately began scrubbing his body with soft brushes. He leaned his head against the rim of the tub, sipping the remaining wine.
After soaking for some time, a bit of vitality returned to his body, which had been exhausted from half a day of riding. He stepped out of the tub and dressed in the summer evening wear the servants had brought. Then, donning a velvet gown with minimal ornamentation, he left the room under the guidance of the monks.
"Dinner has been prepared in the hall directly downstairs," the monk holding a lantern said softly as they descended the marble staircase covered in plush carpet.
Gareth merely gave a disinterested nod. A ruler had to be sparing with his words. He knew all too well how much silence could accomplish—precisely because he kept a man who was the very incarnation of silence by his side.
Gareth frowned as he spotted Barkas standing tall at the entrance of the hall, as if waiting for him. Whenever he saw Barkas, a strange sense of hostility would surge within him. This was true even though Barkas had never once crossed him. Was it because of the man’s unique presence? Or was it because he so rarely revealed his inner thoughts?
Gareth had watched him since they were children, yet Barkas always felt like a guarded stranger. That made Gareth all the more uneasy.
Can I really entrust my other half to this man?
"Where is Aila?"
"Her Highness is resting in the quarters used by the priestesses. She said she would not attend the banquet as she is fatigued."
"It’s understandable, considering we’ve had to camp out for several days."
"I have provided her with medicine to aid her recovery, so there is no need for great concern."
Gareth grimaced at the dry response. He knew that this man was at least somewhat softer toward his sister.
Despite being a man in his prime, Barkas Raedgo Sieorkan treated women as if they were mere stones. He was so cold to the women who approached him that it made Gareth shudder just watching. He supposed he should be grateful that Barkas at least allowed Aila near him.
However, Gareth could not bring himself to look kindly upon his lukewarm attitude. To have secured the most precious treasure in the Empire and yet show such arrogance, without a shred of gratitude...
He snapped in a sharp tone, "Aila is your fiancée. Shouldn’t you show her a bit more concern?"