A Toast to Clumsiness
An official Offering Festival involved no eating or drinking whatsoever.
After all, once a body had been painstakingly cleansed by soaking in the Water of Purification, it wouldn't do to defile it by ingesting the wrong thing.
Of course, since the temple had caught fire and postponed the festival itself, the ritual trek to the temple cisterns to soak in the Water of Purification—though whether those crooks had actually provided genuine Water of Purification in the first place was another question entirely—had been cancelled as well.
When I made no move to take the goblet, merely staring in silence at the hand proffering it, Cronen cleared his throat with a dry cough.
"Your Imperial Highness, Princess Titania, you were unable to undergo the proper purification ritual with the Water of Purification, were you not? The other priests and I scoured the ancient scriptures to brew this sacred wine specifically for your purification."
A faint, tart fruitiness wafted from the rim—the unmistakable musk of an overripe southern fruit fermenting into liquor. Yet it didn't smell like grapes.
Pricked by an uneasy premonition, I combed through my memories. Ever since moving into the Castrein Southern Villa, I had sampled a bite of every single fruit sold in this southern city. Yet I had never encountered one with this scent, let alone this color—especially not of a variety suitable for fermenting into wine.
Besides, didn't brewing liquor take time? Had a month or two passed since the Offering Festival was postponed? Hardly. Putting aside their pathetic attempts to appeal to the public as a 'humble, austere temple' where priests baked their own bread and tilled the soil, how on earth could they have brewed wine in the midst of the chaos following the fire?
I glanced down at my sleeves and collar. Hmm... Of all things, my ceremonial robes were stark white. If even a few stray drops splattered onto the fabric, it would be glaringly obvious. Worse, I had strapped a mountain of magic crystals underneath, so having to change would be a monumental headache.
'You said that because I'm wearing Gloriana's Insignia, the divine power I can wield without the Master Succession Ceremony is amplified, right?'
—Yessiree, absolutely! (•̀ω•́ )
'If I ingest something suspicious, can it purify it?'
—It sure can! Anything harmful to Contractor's person will trigger automatic purification! ☆(･ω･*) However, ordinary alcohol found in light refreshments won't be automatically purified unless you specifically wish it, since people sometimes consume it for recreational purposes!
'Wait, more importantly, right now I'm still a minor... Oh. Right.'
My eyes gleamed.
Even if I could reasonably assume nothing catastrophic would happen, ingesting anything prepared by an enemy felt utterly revolting. Luckily, I had just hit upon the perfect excuse.
Whether in Korea or in this world, the legal age of adulthood was identical: twenty years old.
And Titania!
Still had a very long way to go before turning twenty!
Of course, customs here were lenient enough that minors were permitted a glass or two during momentous ceremonies, which was undoubtedly why Cronen thought I wouldn't be able to refuse. But...
"How could I possibly disregard Priest Cronen's sincere devotion?"
Smiling, I took hold of the goblet. Seeing me hesitate had clearly made Cronen anxious, but now a wave of relief washed over his features.
"However, what ever shall we do?"
A hairline crack fractured Cronen's smile. With an expression of profound regret, I lightly brushed my fingers along the rim of the silver goblet.
The brimming liquid sloshed, and a stray crimson drop trickled down to coat my fingertip. It was as red as freshly spilled blood.
"I have already purified my body in the Water of Purification."
"The temple prepared no Water of Purification! Where could you have possibly purified yourself?"
Cronen flared up indignantly. I blinked up at him with exaggerated innocence.
"Oh my, Priest Cronen... Have you not heard where I have been staying?"
As though dredging up an unpleasant memory, Cronen turned faintly pale. "...I was told it was the Castrein Southern Villa."
"As the primary patron of the Northern Temple, the Castrein Ducal House is, naturally, intimately acquainted with every rite and accessory required for the Offering Festival. The moment they learned of the temple fire, they grew so worried for the sanctity of the festival that they provided me with all manner of assistance."
A brazen lie, of course. Instead of sacred Water of Purification, I had indulged in a luxurious bubble bath infused with fragrant flowers and aromatic oils. Because the southern heat was so oppressive, the water hadn't been scalding hot, but my skin had turned out smooth and flawless as a peeled boiled egg. Debbie had been so thrilled that she practically paraded an entire boutique before me, urging me to try on this gown and wear that cosmetic...
Cronen stared dumbfounded at my complexion, which was glowing with radiant, pristine luster in the aftermath of said bath.
"The Water of Purification can only be consecrated by the temple! No matter how formidable the Castrein Duchy may be, you expect me to believe they transported uncontaminated Water of Purification all the way to their villa in such a short time?!"
Naturally, it was an absurd stretch.
Yet even if I insisted it was true, what was he going to do about it?
They possessed boundless wealth, commanding armies, peerless intelligence networks, and enough clout to brush aside the Imperial family itself—what on earth couldn't House Castrein accomplish? If you thought there was something beyond their reach, that was merely a failure of your own imagination!
Without batting an eyelash, I said in an airy, matter-of-fact tone, "Yes. Because they're Castrein."
"Inconceivable!"
"Surely, Priest Cronen, you don't suspect me of lying to you? Why would I? Furthermore, as unfortunate as it is..."
Moments like this reminded me that royal blood truly was a marvelous shield.
Even if I was merely the disregarded, nuisance youngest princess of the palace, I was still imperial royalty!
Which meant that if I refused to drink, no one could pin down my limbs and force the rim between my lips.
I brought the goblet to my nose and inhaled the aroma. Then, deliberately loosening my grip, I swayed on my feet as though struck by sudden, violent vertigo.
Crash! Clatter!
Splash!
The silver goblet tumbled from my fingers, sending the bright crimson fluid spraying in every direction. Thanks to my lightning-fast leap backward, not a single droplet tainted the hem of my immaculate white robe.
Cronen, on the other hand, caught the brunt of it.
Vivid red stains bloomed across his pristine white vestments.
Drip, drip. Heavy crimson beads dripped from the hem of his clerical robe.
My aim had been so exquisite that the red liquid was even trickling down his chin. His beard was dyed such a garish scarlet that it looked as though someone had strapped a bruised beet or a carrot to his face.
Drenched in red from chin to hem, trembling faintly with suppressed fury, Cronen cut a thoroughly comical figure. Commending myself for not bursting into outright laughter, I parted my lips in dismay.
"...I am simply so, so terribly weak to alcohol that merely catching a whiff made my head spin... Being so young, you see. Oh heavens, it was an honest mistake! I was fasting since yesterday to keep my body pure, so my hands had no strength left. Surely, Priest Cronen, you can forgive my clumsy slip on such an important day?"
"......"
Throwing wine in someone's face while wearing a sweet smile!
I could do that in my sleep!
Insisting that I grew dizzy from the mere scent and stumbled from a 'momentary' headache!
Child's play!
Did they take me for an easy mark? Anyone who had seen me collapse before the crowd wailing, 'The sword is gone! Wahhh!' should have anticipated shamelessness of this caliber.
"Of course, the temple prepared this without knowing how pitifully weak a young girl like me is to alcohol, so I won't hold it against you."
Imagine failing to check someone's dietary habits and preferences before pulling a stunt like this. It is entirely your fault.
Naturally, my tolerance wasn't anywhere near that fragile. In truth, no one had ever offered alcohol to young 'Titania' to begin with. Events where even underage royals were ritually served wine were reserved for grand, momentous imperial affairs, and Titania had never received an invitation to such gatherings.
Which meant that even if I threw a fit and claimed to be hopelessly lightweight... what could they do about it? What did I care?
Suppressing the urge to sneer in his face, I spoke with sweet, gentle solicitousness.
"I am certain this, too, was merely an oversight born of the temple's haste in organizing the Offering Festival on short notice. Is that not so?"
"......"
Looking down at his dripping vestments, Cronen couldn't hide the foul grimace twisting his face.
"I shall remember the temple's earnest desire to do well, so... shouldn't you go change your clothes, Priest Cronen? If you have no spare vestments prepared, I could have my attendants fetch something posthaste..."
"...I could not possibly impose such trouble upon Your Imperial Highness, Princess Titania. Please excuse me for a moment."
Forcing a horribly strained grimace of a smile, Cronen spun on his heel and stormed off. His thudding footsteps betrayed just how utterly incandescent with rage he was.
Letting out a soft, jaunty whistle, I surveyed the chamber now emptied of everyone but myself. Carefully gathering my skirt to ensure the hem wouldn't brush against the wine-splattered floor, I examined the silver goblet lying on the tiles.
'Can't you tell what this is?'
—...I'm sorry, Contractor (｡ŏ﹏ŏ)... I am a super-duper-duper capable sword! But I can't guess every single ordinary object, food, or ingredient... wait... Eeeeeh?! (o︿o)
'Eeeeeh?!'
Like a malfunctioning machine freezing on a crashed screen, the Holy Sword went completely rigid.