Chapter 5
The temple granted permission. Ninia had made the request, but she hadn’t expected it to be approved so easily. It left her with a strange feeling.
There had been some minor disagreements before the permission was granted, but she was relieved it had been resolved. Ninia was satisfied enough with simply being allowed to leave for the north.
‘I’m still with the priests, though…’
Ninia glanced at the priests who shared the carriage with her, there to keep watch. She had heard that once they left Promaia’s territory, they would switch carriages, and new attendants would escort her to the north.
That meant she wouldn’t have to see the Canerian emblem for at least a few weeks.
Ninia looked at the emblem on the priest’s robe. She had embroidered that symbol countless times and had seen it innumerable times since she was born. Yet, now it felt foreign and unsettling.
‘Will there be believers in the north?’
She suddenly wondered how many people in the winter lands still believed in God.
Perhaps, instead of faith, they harbored resentment towards the God they blamed for the frozen wasteland.
Ninia had been raised from birth to be offered to the Goddess. She had been taught this thousands of times.
That’s why she had felt nothing when she ascended the altar. Only when the agonizing pain consumed her did fear blossom, but by then it was too late.
“This is the end of the line.”
The carriage bearing the Canerian emblem came to a stop. They had reached the border of Promaia’s territory. As Ninia stepped out, she saw a new driver and several men who appeared to be mercenaries. The priest handed her over to them.
The priests turned and left, looking relieved. Ninia understood their attitude; to them, she was nothing more than a sinner.
Alone in the new carriage, Ninia felt a sense of peace. Even though this wooden carriage was much older than the temple’s, she felt no discomfort.
The Canerian emblem was no longer in sight. The mere absence of it brought her such peace that it felt strange.
“…Gasp!”
She had been leaning against the wall, dozing. Whenever she had drifted off to sleep during the long carriage journeys, she had dreamt of that day. It was happening again.
Wiping away the cold sweat, Ninia pulled back the worn, hole-ridden curtain and looked out the window.
‘It’s dark.’
In the pitch-black night, the carriage traveled along a dark forest path. The faint light came from the moon, a slender crescent.
In the world touched by God’s hand, everything was beautiful, but the moon held a particular allure. As Ninia gazed at it, mesmerized,
Thwack!
“…!”
Right beside the window, a sharp arrowhead pierced the old wooden wall and embedded itself in the seat, right next to Ninia.
Before she could comprehend what had happened, the horses panicked. Neigh! One of the two horses pulling the carriage was struck by an arrow and collapsed. The driver’s scream followed, and the carriage lurched violently, tilting precariously.
“…Ah!”
Finding nothing to hold onto, Ninia was thrown to the floor as the carriage tipped, colliding with the opposite wall before bouncing back. A dull ache spread throughout her body.
As Ninia pushed herself up, the sounds of clashing swords erupted from outside.
‘An attack? Bandits? Or…’
Ninia struggled to understand the situation. While under the heavy protection of the paladins in the temple carriage, she had never experienced a proper attack. Occasionally, misguided individuals would approach, but they were swiftly dealt with by the Goddess’s swords before they could get near her carriage.
‘Should I go out? Or is it safer to stay here?’
The only way to see outside from the tilted carriage was through the window above.
The sounds from beyond the wooden walls were ominous. Sticking her head out to look could get her killed. As Ninia hesitated, unsure of what to do,
Clink. A sharp sound made her look up. Shards of glass, bathed in moonlight, rained down. A hand reached in through the now open window.
“Take it.”
A deep, harsh voice jolted Ninia back to awareness. She looked up at the outstretched hand.
God was white. But the hand offered to her was covered by a smooth, black glove. Moreover, it emanated a dangerous aura.
Her heart pounded. Yet, she had no choice but to take the hand.
“…Ugh!”
Her small, white hand was swallowed by the black-gloved one. The grip was so tight that it felt like her curled fingers would break.
Ninia was yanked upwards. The man who pulled her out released her hand as soon as she was through the broken window.
Ninia stumbled and fell to the ground. Her bare legs, now exposed beneath her dress instead of her usual habit, brushed against the dew-covered grass. In her lowered field of vision, she saw the black glove that had pulled her out.
Slowly, Ninia raised her head. Her gaze traveled up his long legs. Only when her neck was craned to its limit could she finally see the man’s face.
“Dying now would be inconvenient. Saintess. Ah, or are you not anymore?”
Red eyes. Before his mocking words registered, his eyes captivated Ninia.
Disheveled black hair falling over his brow, shadowed eyes beneath thick eyebrows, creating a chilling impression. His lips, set in a firm line, twisted into a smirk.
Even sharp blades and ferocious beasts possessed a unique beauty. The man before her was like that.
A man of carnal desire, capable of swallowing the still night and the sharp sounds of conflict, he was beautiful under the faint moonlight.
‘…A beast.’
This man was closer to a beast than a human. Ninia thought so.
“For those related to your temple, death is no different from returning to God’s embrace. That would be inconvenient for me.”
His sneering face and glittering, bloodshot eyes filled her with revulsion. His low voice felt distant, like the lingering smoke of a cigar.
‘He’s different than before.’
She recognized this man. But this was the first time she had seen his face clean, free of blood. Tarahan Danteor. The man who would become her husband.
“She was expensive. Take her.”
Tarahan looked away from Ninia and gestured towards what appeared to be his adjutant. As the man, looking flustered, started to address Tarahan,
“Your Excellency, wait—”
“Filthy Emperor’s dog…! Die!”
One of the attackers lunged at Tarahan, swinging his sword. A cloak billowed. That was all Ninia could perceive.
With a slight shift of his shoulder, Tarahan evaded the sword and grabbed the attacker’s neck, snapping it.
Crack. The sound of breaking bone, a sound difficult to produce even with a sword.
The soldier died without a scream. As Tarahan released his grip, the soldier crumpled to the ground. His helmet, its fastening strap broken, rolled away.
Ninia learned for the first time that a person’s neck could be broken with bare hands.
“Take him alive to the castle.”
Tarahan was visible in the moonlight. The helmet, bouncing off a tree, rolled towards Ninia’s feet, spinning like a bottle in a drinking game.
The “him” Tarahan referred to couldn’t be the soldier he had just killed. The helmet bumping against her foot brought Ninia back to her senses. When she looked up again, Tarahan was gone.
“Saintess! Are you alright?”
Tarahan’s adjutant helped her to her feet. Even as she stood, Ninia’s gaze remained fixed on the direction Tarahan had disappeared.
She felt dazed, as if under a spell. But even in this state, she felt compelled to correct him. Her eyes still fixed on the darkness where Tarahan had vanished, she said,
“…No. Not Saintess. Ninia.”
Despite the near-death experience during the attack, Ninia had managed to grab the small box as she escaped through the carriage window. Inside was the handkerchief she had embroidered for Tarahan.
‘I won’t be able to give this to him.’
The adjutant looked at her strangely, but Ninia, still dazed, simply fiddled with the lid of the box. Despite the chaotic situation, she had realized one thing for certain.
Her betrothed hated her.
