Chapter 4
The topics of conversation at the ball varied. By simply stepping away from the central crowd and leaning against a wall, one could easily discern who the subject of everyone’s interest was.
No one knew why the Emperor had taken a barbarian woman as a lover. However, this union resulted in an illegitimate child of royal blood. The Emperor kept this a secret until the northern war broke out, at which point he revealed Tarahan as his trump card.
Raised as a lowly mercenary, his royal blood concealed beneath the guise of a commoner, he led the northern war to victory at the Emperor’s command.
It had been a seemingly unwinnable war, so the Emperor had promised the illegitimate son the title of Grand Duke and control of the north in exchange for victory. And he had actually achieved it.
‘Why is the empire’s hero being mentioned?’
Ninia wondered, her face a mask of confusion. Meanwhile, the religious council, convened to decide her fate as the former Saintess, concluded without even considering her opinion.
Ninia didn’t dare to object to the decision. Just managing the turmoil in her mind was already overwhelming.
After the trial, what awaited Ninia wasn’t torture or execution, but continued isolation.
A priest informed her to wait until her betrothed arrived. Betrothed. Ninia rolled the word around in her mind. A husband, a concept she had never considered, had suddenly fallen into her life.
Sitting on the sofa, Ninia traced patterns on the carpet with the toe of her slipper. This time, her confinement wasn’t in a prayer room but in a guest room, complete with a bed, sofa, and table.
Was this because the man she was to marry was a hero? The treatment of Ninia, the sinner, had changed considerably.
‘I’m still alone, though.’
Ninia smiled bitterly. The people who guarded and attended to her still didn’t speak to her. However, it was easier to request what she needed.
Ninia reached for the table. On it lay high-quality cloth, colorful threads, and various types of needles, a stark contrast to the scraps she had received in the carriage.
‘Tarahan. Tarahan…’
As her fingers worked, Ninia thought about her betrothed, the man she had never spoken to. However, calling him a complete stranger wasn’t quite accurate.
‘…We’re not entirely unacquainted.’
Ninia had seen Tarahan before. The encounter was too long to be considered fleeting, yet too brief for her to have truly observed him. Still, the fragmented memory of the man remained vividly etched in her mind.
‘It was on the northern battlefield.’
Ninia had been able to continue her charitable work despite the wars raging between nations because religion remained neutral in all conflicts. No empire’s blade would dare to target the Saintess who protected the weak.
Soldiers, upon hearing that the Saintess was visiting a suffering village, would avoid the area or pretend not to notice. However, sometimes, due to delayed or miscommunicated information, Ninia had to face the soldiers directly.
Ninia had first seen Tarahan when she visited a burnt village as part of her relief efforts. It was at dusk, after she had finished her duties.
‘The Saintess of the Canerian faith extends her hand. Please withdraw.’
The paladins demanded that the soldiers occupying the village retreat. Ninia was also present. Their banner bore the symbol of a golden eagle – the emblem of the Piechen Empire. At the forefront stood Tarahan.
‘The smell of blood.’
The first thing Ninia noticed about him was the overpowering stench of blood. She was accustomed to the smell of blood, but the scent emanating from him was different from anything she knew.
He was covered in blood from head to toe. He wore full armor, but his helmet was missing, allowing Ninia to see his hellish face.
His bloodshot eyes radiated a desire to tear apart everyone present. That’s why she couldn’t forget him.
The man, whose fierce visage made even eye contact terrifying, had now become a Grand Duke, bearing the name of the northern territory, Danteor.
Her embroidering hand stilled. Just recalling the memory sent shivers down her spine. Rubbing the back of her hand, Ninia resumed her needlework, lost in thought once more.
‘Why is this marriage happening?’
No matter how much she thought about it, there seemed to be no connection between her and Tarahan. He hadn’t been present when she was offered as a sacrifice. Could he be a devout follower of Caner? She entertained the unlikely thought but quickly dismissed it.
If that were the case, Tarahan would know that she was a sinner. He would shun her, not take her as his wife.
‘What kind of person is he?’
Her first impression of him had been intense, but a single fragmented memory wasn’t enough to understand his true nature. The High Priest had said that it was God’s will, but there had to be something she didn’t know.
“…Sigh.”
Ninia put down her embroidery. Having stitched mindlessly, focusing only on beauty, she was surrounded by a field of embroidered flowers.
The type of embroidery she created depended on the recipient. For women, she usually embroidered flowers with positive meanings, while for men, she chose laurel wreaths, symbolic emblems, or other designs representing victory or aspiration.
“…He probably won’t appreciate the blessings of a former Saintess.”
Ninia picked up a new handkerchief to embroider. With her holy power depleted, she couldn’t bestow any blessings. This was just a simple decoration. Even as she told herself this, she was already considering designs suitable for Tarahan.
🌻🌻🌻
The waiting continued. After completing the handkerchief for him, Ninia repeatedly questioned the priest guarding her. Was this newfound courage stemming from the fact that she wasn’t going to die immediately? Or perhaps it was a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.
Stopping the priest as he was about to leave after delivering her meal, Ninia asked,
“Is there still no news from Grand Duke Danteor?”
“…”
The priest frowned. Ninia was used to being ignored and seeing expressions of annoyance, but she had become accustomed to asking repeatedly. If she didn’t hear anything today, she would simply ask again tomorrow.
“The Grand Duke is extremely busy, it seems.”
Ninia’s eyes widened at the priest’s response. She was surprised that he had actually answered her. Once the priest had spoken, it became easier for him to speak again. He grumbled, unprompted, “What great deed could he be doing that he can’t even visit his bride-to-be?”
‘He must be truly busy.’
Despite the sarcasm in the priest’s tone, Ninia readily accepted that Tarahan was busy. The northern war was over, but filing claims for damages would take considerable time, and restoring the war-torn north would be entirely his responsibility. It was only natural for him to be overwhelmed.
“Ah, there was a letter from Grand Duke Danteor.”
The priest, his irritation seemingly growing, redirected his sarcasm towards Ninia. However, his attitude didn’t bother her. The priest scoffed as he saw her blue eyes sparkle with renewed interest.
“[If you’re so eager, he should come himself. If he has legs, that is.]”
As if challenging her to maintain her hopeful expression, he recited the contents of the letter.
The temple also wanted to resolve Ninia’s situation quickly. However, the one who had promised to take her off their hands was silent, and the temple was growing impatient.
The High Priest had sent several official letters to the north, but all went unanswered until this single line arrived as a reply.
“I see.”
Ninia’s blue eyes widened before she nodded in understanding. No matter how she thought about it, the message didn’t seem like the words of a welcoming betrothed. The priest’s sneer deepened as if asking how she felt after hearing those words.
“…Then, could I request the temple to make preparations for my departure?”
“Pardon?”
“The Grand Duke is busy… and it seems he wishes for me to come to him. Therefore, wouldn’t it be better for someone with nothing to do to go to her betrothed?”
The priest looked stunned, as if he couldn’t comprehend her reasoning. Ninia knew that the letter wasn’t a kind invitation.
But she could no longer endure this prolonged imprisonment. Even with embroidery and a comfortable bed, it didn’t change the fact that she was confined.
‘I want to hurry while there’s someone who can get me out of here.’
Ninia hadn’t been imprisoned from the moment she stepped down as Saintess. She had belonged to the temple from the moment she was born, used as an object bearing the title of Saintess. Now, stripped of her title, she was alone.
If he changed his mind, Ninia would be the only one to suffer. Therefore, she had to take action and find a way to reach her betrothed.
“Please send an official letter to the temple requesting permission for my departure.”
The priest questioned Ninia’s sanity. But her eyes were clearer and more determined than ever.
“…Very well.”
After a moment of stunned silence, the priest finally relented.
