Chapter 44
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Royal Wedding
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Ulrich finished speaking and leaned back in his chair, basking in the sunlight that filled the backyard. Roberta stood still, watching him. Questions swirled in her mind.
Most were about his names. The fact that he’d mentioned borrowing names occasionally meant he had done so with others besides Armin. She was merely curious about what other names he had used and whether she might know any of them.
The other question was about Armin. He was not just anyone, but Ulrich’s adopted son. No matter how harsh Dithmarschen was, a person of his standing was unlikely to die so easily.
After some thought, she asked cautiously.
“What happened to Sir Armin?”
“There was an accident. He met with a terrible fate while I was away.”
An accident? A terrible fate? She narrowed her eyes. Did that mean he died from a plague or a monster? Just as she was about to ask again, he posed a question of his own.
“Did you tell Vinicio about the monsters?”
Setting aside her questions about Armin, she countered with one of her own.
“By monsters… do you mean the Gallua?”
“I do.”
He was referring to the massacre they had witnessed just before arriving in Eisleburg. A half-blood of human and elf, whose name they didn't know, had summoned monsters to hunt the villagers.
Ulrich’s party had slain all the monsters, and the culprit seemed to have taken her own life, but the case was far from over.
“I only told him that monsters had attacked the village.”
“So you didn’t tell him the full story.”
“Not yet. There are too many uncertainties.”
While speaking with Archbishop Vinicio, she had reported the incident but concealed the fact that a Gallua was the culprit and had summoned the monsters.
In that village, Ulrich had spoken of a secret history tied to the founding of the Ecumenical Church and mentioned that the culprit was connected to a clan descended from the same ancestor as the Cormillius family.
She didn't know if the Archbishop was aware of this secret history, but revealing the full story would have caused a huge uproar. The Osnover Kingdom was already at odds with the Pantheon—or rather, with the Cormillius family—and King Richard had been excommunicated.
The appearance of monsters near the capital was problematic enough, but what if it became known that someone could command them? Vicious rumors could spread that Richard was involved with the minions of an evil god—that he had sacrificed his own people for some personal gain.
For this reason, Roberta had decided it was best to keep the details hidden until she knew more.
“Well done. It’s better not to bring it to the surface for now. Vinicio is a good man, but there’s nothing he can do at the moment. His aides have been summoned to the Pantheon, and there are too many watchful eyes. If he makes a move, it will only put the other side on high alert.”
Roberta furrowed her brow.
“You suspect that a group connected to this is here.”
“Given the circumstances so far, we must assume so.”
Indeed, he had left Dithmarschen because of his suspicions in the first place. Sensing a conspiracy surrounding the royal marriage, he had ended his seclusion and come all the way to Eisleburg.
Besides, what was the point of that nameless Gallua wiping out a single village? It had to be part of a larger plan, nothing more than groundwork for what was to come.
The problem was that everything was speculation. They knew something was afoot, but the details were hazy. They didn't know what the objective was or how it would be carried out.
“Have you eaten?”
“No. Our conversation ended at an awkward time.”
“Then you should rest. Recover from your journey today. We can talk tomorrow.”
He stopped her from following and left the mansion alone.
#
After a late lunch, Roberta returned to the backyard. She had tried to take a nap but couldn't fall asleep. Ulrich had told her to rest from her travels, but she didn’t feel particularly tired.
She was a woman who had crossed the Ice Peninsula; a few days of camping were nothing to her. She sat in a chair, sipping the tea a servant had brought her. Then, she looked up at the sky and retraced her journey.
The village that had risen again after a monster attack, the stepmother blinded by jealousy who had cursed her daughter, the clan that had served one man for centuries, the person blessed by an evil god—each memory was vividly etched in her mind.
As an apprentice priest, she had traveled to all sorts of places with Bishop Alonso and priests from the Pantheon. But she had never experienced anything like this.
Roberta rested her hands, still holding the teacup, on her knees.
‘This will all be over soon, too.’
She was in Eisleburg, the destination of her journey. The wedding was only a few days away, and she was scheduled to return immediately after the ceremony.
The moment she arrived back in Dithmarschen, the journey would end. The thought left her feeling unsettled.
‘Will he really leave Dithmarschen?’
And Ulrich, would he return to Dithmarschen?
Count Willem Meyer had said that Ulrich would leave after this journey, that he would travel the world under a different name. Ulrich had replied that it wasn't necessarily so, but Willem had been certain.
At the time, she had dismissed it as a possible exaggeration, but now she thought the same. That he would leave when the journey was over. During their time together, she had seen him change his name, hoping to be forgotten.
Ulrich of Dithmarschen had stayed in one place for too long and had become too well known. It was a situation that didn't suit the man she had come to observe.
Had he remained in Dithmarschen, he would have lived without noticing the passage of time in a world arranged like an artificial garden, just as he’d said.
When boredom struck, he would fall into a deep sleep until the following year, occasionally welcoming old acquaintances who came to visit, and watching over the Ice Peninsula, remaining a lord who had lived for a very, very long time.
But a catalyst had been introduced.
He had ended his seclusion and begun a journey.
It started as a path of confronting old memories and the present in the village of Luman, a way of reclaiming the time he had forgotten in his artificial garden. His reason for using the name Armin wasn't just out of longing.
He had lived as Ulrich for a long time, so he was preparing for what came next. So that he could lay down the name and leave at any moment. But if he left, what would become of her?
“I don’t know. What will happen from now on?”
She sighed, muttering to herself.
Normally, it wouldn't concern her. Even if a lord died or went missing, a priest remained at their post. A priest only transferred when the Pantheon ordered it.
But Roberta was different. Her post, Dithmarschen, was practically worthless to the Pantheon. It was a parish managed directly by the Pope only because of the one man who resided there. That was why she had been sent in the first place.
“Priest Roberta?”
She turned her head. Fritz had also come out to the backyard. He was freshly washed after a sweaty sparring session.
“Resting out here? Aren’t you tired?”
“This is fine. What about you? You were just sparring.”
“I thought about taking a nap, but I couldn’t fall asleep.”
She didn’t need to ask why he couldn't sleep. He had the same worries as her, perhaps even heavier ones.
Roberta was parting with someone she had known for just over a year, but the boy had to bid farewell to a man his family had served for generations.
She had once advised Fritz not to be impatient, but there was a reason for his constant haste. This could be their last journey together, so he couldn't afford to take his time and learn from experience at a leisurely pace.
“Fritz.”
After a moment’s thought, she asked.
“Yes?”
“What will you do if Sir Ulrich leaves?”
Fritz flinched at the word ‘leaves.’
“Uh, well… I’ll have to stay in Dithmarschen. Sir Bernhard presented me to Sir Ulrich as his successor. Besides, it’s not like I have any other path.”
In Osnover, primogeniture was the norm, and Fritz was the fourth son.
“Well, that’s for later. I’m trying not to think about it for now.”
“I thought you’d be very disappointed, so I’m glad to hear that.”
“It’s not like he’s leaving right away, is it?”
Roberta looked at the boy, who was trying to sound cheerful.
“The reason Sir Ulrich came here hasn’t been fully revealed, and I don’t think this will end as a simple incident.”
“You think so too?”
“Of course. The biggest reason is that Sir Ulrich himself is suspicious, but there’s also what happened in that last village, and King Richard’s excommunication. I feel like something big is about to happen.”
That was why Ulrich wasn't here, Fritz added. Although he hadn't told them the reason, they knew he was away investigating the problems surrounding the royal marriage.
“You’re right. It feels like there’s a big problem brewing.”
She stood up from her seat.
“Where are you going?”
“There’s no need for us to just sit here and wait.”
“Then I’ll go with you.”
Fritz stood up as well.
“But do you have anywhere in mind?”
“I have an idea. I’ve seen it before.”
Back when she was an apprentice priest, Roberta had assisted Alonso in rooting out heretics. How had he approached them then? She sifted through her memories for a moment, then nodded.
“Let’s look for a mage.”
#
The two left the mansion and walked down the main street.
They had both changed their attire. Roberta wore plain clothes instead of her priest’s vestments, and Fritz was dressed simply to avoid giving the impression of a nobleman.
“You’re looking for a mage?”
“Yes, that’s the one thing we can check on right away.”
Fritz tilted his head, his expression asking why a mage, of all people.
“There’s a saying. When you keep a mage close—”
“‘Keep a priest by your side.’ That’s what Sir Ulrich said, right?”
After punishing the mage and stepmother named Oksana Narces, Ulrich had said as much to her husband, Lord Matthias.
“Yes. It’s a very old adage.”
“Doesn’t it mean that since they don’t get along, you should put them together to keep each other in check?”
“That’s part of it. But do you know why they don’t get along?”
Fritz shook his head, asking for the reason.
As far as the boy knew, there was only one difference between a priest and a mage: whether or not one had undergone the ordination ceremony. Of course, that difference was immense in human society.
They were the same in that they both used the mana bestowed upon the world by the celestial gods, and ordination did not create a disparity in their ability to handle mana.
When Oksana Narces had fought Roberta, she had summoned lightning with a gesture—something other high-ranking priests could also do. They simply chose not to.
“The difference between a priest and a mage is whether they learn mana for the sake of faith or for themselves. Sometimes a mage finds faith and receives ordination, becoming a priest.”
“If there’s so little difference, why do they get along so poorly? Is it because unordained people use magic?”
Roberta smiled and replied that wasn't it.
“Of course not. If that were the real reason, I would have disliked it when you used mana to light a campfire. You use mana without being ordained, don’t you?”
“Ah… right.”
“The reason we dislike each other is because of that difference in faith I mentioned. Just as mages call us arrogant, we also call them arrogant.”
Roberta suddenly stopped walking. They were at the entrance to an alleyway branching off the main street that led to the royal palace.
“What is it?”
Staring down the narrow path, she focused her senses. She felt a wind. It wasn’t a wind created by the movement of air. It was mana, which she often compared to the wind. The flow of that wind-like mana was blowing from inside the alley out toward the main street.
“This way.”
“Do you feel something?”
“Mages have their own standards.”
“Standards?” Fritz blinked.
“Anyway, there’s another meaning to that adage I mentioned. Where there are no priests, mages thrive. Like insects drawn to sweet pastries.”
Following the flow of mana into the alley, the two soon stopped in front of a certain house. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary three-story residence. However, unlike the neighboring buildings, it had no nameplate.
All the windows were shut, and moss and vines grew on the outer walls. It looked like an abandoned, empty house.
But as they stood before it, they felt a strong wind. This was its source. It was a mage’s hideout, and this was how they marked it instead of with a nameplate.
Knock, knock. She knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
The response came after a slight delay.
“I followed the flow.”
“Your name?”
“Neveraya Oksana.”
Hearing the surname ‘Oksana’ attached to the alias, Fritz turned to look at her. She pressed an index finger to her lips, her eyes crinkling in a small smile.