Chapter 32
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 32
By noon, the heavens opened, and the rain began to pour in torrents.
The soldiers, who had been busily packing, scrambled to secure pitch-coated tarps over the wagons and hurried the horses back into the stables. Watching the chaos from inside her carriage, Aila looked up at the blackened sky.
Flashes of lightning flickered through the heavy downpour, followed by the low, predatory rumble of thunder. It was clear at a glance that the storm would not let up anytime soon.
"It seems we must remain at the monastery for another day."
Having finally decided to postpone their departure, a personal guard who had been stationed in the knights' quarters approached the carriage. He pushed a waterproof robe through the gap in the door.
Aila took it, letting out a small sigh. She was displeased by the incremental delays to their schedule; this was already a journey fraught with uncertainty. She donned the raincoat, her eyes constantly flickering toward the window.
"Where is the Crown Prince?"
"His Highness has gone to the Abbot’s private residence."
Aila frowned as she pulled the hood over her head, looking back at the knight. "He decided to stay there today as well?"
"It appears so." The knight lowered his gaze, his voice trailing off noncommittally.
Aila turned a dissatisfied eye toward the monks gathered in the courtyard. As the Abbot stood under the roof of the cloister issuing instructions, the monks dispersed in an orderly fashion. She observed the scene intently.
The Abbot appeared cold and dignified, a stark contrast to the way he had behaved toward Gareth. This, she suspected, was the priest’s true face.
Aila narrowed her eyes. Originally, an Imperial pilgrimage was a ritual intended to garner support from local citizens and influential figures. Considering the purpose of this journey, it wasn’t a bad thing for Gareth to build rapport with local powers. However, the Abbot’s background weighed heavily on her mind.
‘To ascend to the rank of Abbot despite the stigma of being a demi-human... he must possess formidable political skill, or perhaps a powerful patron.’
Though they had only spoken briefly, Aila could tell immediately that the Abbot was no ordinary man. While he maintained a polite demeanor on the surface, a cold, calculating look had flickered in his eyes as he observed Gareth. It occurred to her that he might be an appointee planted by the Empress.
Hadn’t House Taren collaborated closely with demi-humans for generations, ever since the Era of Nations? It could not be a mere coincidence that a quarter-elf had risen to such a high priestly office, overseeing a massive monastery like Mordawin.
Perhaps they were beginning to build a faction within the Church to support the Second Imperial Prince...
"Your Highness?"
Lost in thought, Aila snapped her head up. Her personal guard was looking at her with concern, standing in the pouring rain.
Aila gave an awkward smile and stood up. "I’ve kept you standing in the rain too long. Come, let us head to the quarters."
The knight took her hand and helped her down from the carriage. Aila stepped carefully onto the muddy path, heavy raindrops pelting the crown of her head and shoulders. The downpour seemed to have grown even more intense.
Pulling her hood tight, Aila hurried across the wide courtyard—now veiled in a white shroud of rain—and entered the cloister surrounding the garden. There, she approached the priests as if by chance.
"Imperial Princess."
The demi-human priest, who had been speaking with the Vice-Abbot, spotted her and quickly bowed.
Aila wore the gentle smile that had become a habit and spoke softly. "As it happens, we shall be imposing on your hospitality for another day."
"It is nothing but an honor to host such esteemed guests," the priest replied politely, not even thinking of straightening his hunched back. "Please, let us know if you require anything. If it is within the monastery’s power, we shall prepare it immediately."
"I appreciate your thoughtfulness." Aila paused for a moment before continuing cautiously. "Then, may I ask one favor?"
"Anything, Your Highness."
"Tomorrow, I would like to hold a separate ceremony for Thalia. Could you bestow a blessing upon that child as well before we depart?"
The Abbot’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected request. Aila watched his reaction closely. It was only for a fleeting second, but she saw a hint of wariness flicker across his pale violet eyes before it vanished.
The priest asked in a cautious tone, "Are you saying you wish to hold a blessing ritual for the Second Imperial Princess?"
"Who else would I mean?" With a thin smile, Aila added smoothly, "We’re staying another day anyway. Wouldn’t it be good for the child to undergo the ritual while we have the chance?"
"I did not realize you cared for the Second Imperial Princess to such an extent, Your Highness."
Aila turned her head at the sudden voice.
Barkas, who had walked silently through the rainy garden, pulled back his dripping hood and fixed her with a dry gaze. Aila, who had been about to greet him with a pleasant smile, felt her expression cloud over. His face, wet with rain, looked even colder than usual. Seeing that frigid, set face made her nerves prickle with irritation.
She knew well that his sensitive reaction to matters involving Thalia stemmed from years of accumulated negative emotions. Her half-sister’s outrageous behavior had been enough to make even this stoic man recoil in disgust. Since he had been forced to endure those tantrums by her side for seven long years, it was no wonder he shuddered at the thought of her.
Intellectually, she understood all of this. Yet, it bothered her to an unbearable degree that this utterly indifferent man only showed such a sharp reaction when it came to that girl.
Forgetting her intent to test the Abbot, Aila responded emotionally.
"My concern is for you, not her. His Majesty personally entrusted that child to you. If he learns that the ritual was held without Thalia, you might face unnecessary reproach."
"Even so, we cannot exactly drag someone before the altar who refuses to go, can we?"
Aila’s face hardened at his sarcastic tone. She was used to him being cold—sometimes so cold it made her heart sink—but she could not tolerate him being rude to her because of Thalia Roem Guirta.
Aila lifted her chin defiantly. "First, we should check Thalia’s intentions. She is a fickle child; she might change her mind by tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, we depart at daybreak. I have no intention of altering the schedule based on the Second Imperial Princess’s whims," Barkas said, cutting her off flatly.
Aila, who had never experienced having her opinion dismissed so bluntly, flushed with anger. She wanted to rebuke his rudeness immediately, but she refused to undermine his authority in front of the monks.
She struggled to hide her displeasure. "If that is your wish, Sir Knight, then there is nothing to be done."
When she conceded, Barkas turned his gaze toward the Abbot. The priest, who had been watching the confrontation with interest, quickly lowered his eyes. Barkas looked down at him with a chilling gaze and issued a low warning.
"I would like tonight to be as quiet as possible. If we are to leave at dawn, the Crown Prince must also get plenty of rest."
It was a clear command to forgo any banquets or formal dinners. The Abbot nodded, his face stiff.
As if he had nothing more to say, Barkas turned and held out a hand toward Aila.
"Let us go. I will escort you to your quarters."
Aila swallowed a sigh and took his hand.