Chapter 14
Ninia returned to her quarters, guided by Severus who had been waiting outside. He cast suspicious glances at her the entire walk down the hallway, but Ninia had no time to worry about such stares.
The watchful eyes only disappeared after she had returned to her room. However, Ninia paced the room, unable to sit on either the chair or the bed.
‘…I said I would do it, but.’
Ninia looked down at her shoes, which were patched with old leather. Though only the cold floor and brown leather were in her line of sight, the afterimage of Tarahan flickered before her eyes.
She had been submerged in those red eyes, which had been vivid even when covered in blood. But the eyes that looked at Ninia were indifferent, and at times, tinged with contempt.
His dark skin, different in quality from that of an Imperial, and his roughly honed body were the very picture of an overwhelmingly perfect foreigner.
Ninia could not forget him walking around the table towards her. His massive, muscle-bound body was as harmonious as a languid beast, and his fierce-looking face was imbued with a raw nobility.
When Tarahan looked down at her, she couldn’t even stir, as if she had been consumed by his shadow. It was as if she had been hunted. She vividly remembered how she had finally let out a faint breath, which she had been holding, only after he had moved away.
‘I’ll do it.’
She had nodded like that and then fled from his territory. But Ninia’s quarters were also Tarahan’s. Soon, nothing in the North, which stretched out like a wilderness, would exist that was not his. The reminder of that fact made her feel suffocated again.
“…How on earth can I?”
The moment she realized her reality, the afterimage of Tarahan that had been flashing before her eyes faded. The nobles of the North did not yet acknowledge Tarahan as their master. That was why they were not paying him his due. At the center of this strife stood Count Erban Troyd.
With the Empress as his backer, he was a difficult person to handle. While Ninia didn’t understand why Tarahan would tell her to meet the Count, she also felt like she could somewhat grasp his thinking.
‘He must also know that it’s an impossible task.’
What could she, a person with nothing, do to a man Tarahan himself was testing the waters with? It would be a relief if she wasn’t laughed at and chased away, let alone succeed in getting the land.
But the deed was already done. If she went back to Tarahan and said she couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t even care. If that happened, no greater misfortune would occur, and Ninia would just have to remain quietly holed up in her room like a thing that only took up space.
But Ninia didn’t have the confidence to face him again. The look in his eyes that held no expectation in the first place. But even that wouldn’t last long.
To Tarahan, that was exactly the extent of her value. She too knew well that even the pen he was holding was a far more useful and helpful object than Ninia. That was why she couldn’t let it go.
‘…Am I strange for seeing even this as an opportunity?’
It was an absurd proposition from the beginning, but she felt it was better than having nothing at all. At least, it was for her. Ninia’s image, reflected in those lifeless eyes, must have already been erased without a trace. Perhaps it would be like that for the rest of her life.
‘That which does not prove its value is useless, and from the moment its use is exhausted, it becomes a being worse than a bug you trip over. To the point where it would be better to just die and disappear.’
It was what the High Priest, Altahaph, had repeatedly emphasized every time he saw Ninia. Ninia had silently bowed her head to his teachings, which educated the saintess with the words of the goddess.
‘Death is not to be feared. What one should truly tremble at is the loss of one’s reason for existence. Therefore, Ninia, show me your true value.’
The words, repeated countless times, had a great influence on Ninia as she bestowed mercy as a saintess and lived in the embrace of the goddess.
But what about now? For what reason should a being who possesses neither death nor life continue to live?
Her whole being felt as if it were blurring. Like a ghost that could only exist through contempt. She was suffering under the delusion of having become a ghost, wandering the winter castle with an invisible body.
The days in the North are short. Soon, it was night, and she was curled up alone. Even as the room sank into darkness, Ninia did not go to him to beg to take back his proposal.
“…I have to prove it.”
Late at night. The blue eyes, hidden under suppressed eyelids, shone with a sharp light.
With the flickering candlelight as her companion, Ninia began to write a letter. It was a letter addressed to Count Erban Troyd.
🌻🌻🌻
She spent her time in her room as usual. The attitude of the maid who looked after Ninia was no different, and the scenery outside the window, covered in snow and all white, was also the same.
Everything flowed on just the same, until the afternoon when Severus knocked on Ninia’s door.
“An outing has been decided, so you must prepare for it in two days.”
The one surprised by the butler’s words was Rosa, who was moving charcoal. Rosa looked at Severus with questioning eyes, but the butler, who answered with only a sigh, merely waited for Ninia’s reply.
“I understand. Will there be any suitable clothes to wear for the outing?”
“I will have them brought.”
Ninia, who had been silent for a moment, spoke, and Severus, despite his displeased expression, answered well enough. At the butler’s command, Rosa disappeared and then returned to the room carrying a box filled with clothes.
Inside the box were dresses made of thick material and thermal robes. Some looked a bit worn, but most of them were wearable.
“This should be fine.”
Rosa thought it was strange to see Ninia nod even after seeing the clothes piled with dust, but she didn’t let it show on her face.
In any case, Ninia’s preparations must have been made with Tarahan’s permission. When she thought that everything was her master’s will, she was finally able to understand. Following Severus, Rosa took the clothes and left for the laundry room.
Ninia was left alone in the room. The clothes were all that was needed; he would prepare the rest. For a Grand Duchess’s first outing, it was excessively simple, but she felt no need to request anything more.
‘The fact that permission for an outing was granted must mean a reply came from the Count.’
It had been two weeks since Ninia had sent the letter to Count Troyd. She had written that, as the former saintess, she wished to bless the Count for being the first among the northerners to enter the goddess’s embrace.
It was a fact that almost everyone knew that since the Empress was a follower of Kaner, the Count had also been baptized and had volunteered to become a lamb obedient to the goddess.
‘…What a relief.’
Her stomach had been burning with anxiety as there was no news of the letter’s arrival. It seemed Tarahan would not offer any separate help, having only told her to meet Count Troyd.
Ninia had written the letter voluntarily. She didn’t know what kind of reply the Count had sent, but since permission for the outing was granted, it had become possible to meet him.
‘It would have been difficult for him to refuse, too.’
Whatever the truth of the war heroics, in the story known to the people, Ninia was the benevolent saintess who had stopped the blood spilled in the North.
She thought that just as the Count was obedient to the goddess, he would surely want to become a part of the show created by the temple. Perhaps the destination of the outing would be the Count’s residence, in which case her thoughts were half right. Ninia let out a small sigh.
It was a relief that things hadn’t gone awry without even being able to try, but she still lacked complete certainty. Ninia once again focused on the past she had been constantly recalling since her conversation with Tarahan.
When Count Troyd presented a painting to the Empress, Ninia had also been there.
The imperial ball held five years ago was in celebration of the Empress’s birthday. It was an event attended by all the central nobles. Among the people who were adorned to the point of looking desperate to keep up with the latest trends, the shabby northerner could not help but stand out.
‘A northerner. Isn’t he someone who lives in a land forsaken even by the goddess?’
‘Her Majesty the Empress will be furious.’
The nobles who disparaged Count Troyd didn’t even bother to cover their mouths with their fans. Ninia, along with the temple’s congratulatory delegation, watched the Count.
The Empress, who first spotted him, showed a hint of displeasure but soon turned her gaze away from the uninvited guest, and the nobles merely lingered by her side, glancing at the Count.
Count Troyd quietly held his ground in the middle of the banquet. Just as everyone was starting to forget his presence, the incident occurred during the gift-giving time for the Empress.
‘I wish to offer my small sincerity to Her Majesty the Empress.’
From all sides, a silent gasp erupted at his sudden demeanor. The Empress, who had worn an elegant expression, was already arching an eyebrow. But the Count paid no mind.
In the quiet silence, when the Count gestured, servants, as if prepared in advance, brought in something long and rectangular.
Wrapped in paper, it looked like either a frame or a painting. The nobles waited with one mind for the Count’s gift to be unveiled.
‘What kind of shabby thing did a family that survived on money-lending bring?’
In truth, their interest in what the gift was, was barely a fingernail’s worth. The nobles were looking forward to watching the Empress’s wrath from a distance where no sparks would fly.
But the moment the servants pulled down the cloth covering the painting, everyone swallowed their words.
In the now silent hall, the gates of heaven opened. The posthumous work of a painter who unfailingly appears in art history textbooks had revealed itself.
“The Garden of Heaven” by Lemang Dipron, who had captivated the century, was an oil painting he created for his wife who was unable to go outside due to a leg injury. On the massive canvas, he had captured the pinnacle of human imagination, transferring the garden of the gods in its entirety.
No one who saw this work could dare to look away. The beautiful fragment of heaven, so captivating that one would want to be sucked into the painting and never come out again, mesmerized all.
‘It’s a fake. To offer a counterfeit to Her Majesty the Empress!’
One of the nobles, who had been entranced by the painting, pointed a finger at Count Troyd. Others also rushed to criticize the Count.
Only the Empress, with a calm face, called for an appraiser. An appraiser belonging to the imperial family first examined the painting, and after the banquet ended, the head of the appraisal committee from the Imperial Museum personally came forward to appraise Lemang’s final work.
‘I say this on my honor, it is undoubtedly authentic.’
As a result of four appraisers examining the painting, all confirmed its authenticity. The nobles gathered for the Empress’s birthday were all, without exception, astonished. Ninia, who was back at the temple presiding over a prayer meeting for the nobles with High Priest Altahaph, also heard the news.
The lost final work of the painter who had captivated a century was a rare work of art that everyone coveted. The Empress, having received a work whose value could not be dared to be measured, was extremely pleased and offered to become his backer.
Count Troyd was the only northerner to receive support from the capital. The northern nobles flocked to him as if chasing a pot of honey, and the power base thus created remains intact to this day, ostracizing the new Grand Duke.
Tarahan had obtained Ninia, a noble justification, and the Emperor had grudgingly bestowed upon him the North and the title of Grand Duke. With the external situation being what it was, it was difficult for the Empress to make a proper move. She had to avoid creating friction with the temple by siding with the Count, but despite the situation, the Empress was comforting the Count and his subordinate nobles, indirectly channeling support.
The Empress loathed Tarahan. She found it horrifying that a man who carried the blood of savages would be treated as royalty and become the Grand Duke of the North. Thus, she was inciting the Count to raise a banner of rebellion against Tarahan, pretending it wasn’t her doing.
The North was still a foreign world. Although he held the title, Tarahan had no allies, and the sunny outside world was filled with beasts tearing him down.
Ninia looked outside. The snow-covered world was completely white, as if trying to hide even a handful of blemishes.
