Chapter 6
Since the carriage was broken in two, riding a horse was the only option. Ninia was traveling on a horse provided by Jerome Evans, Tarahan’s adjutant. The Duke’s knights escorted them from behind.
Horseback riding was among the various subjects Ninia learned as a Saint. While it was fortunate that she had learned to ride, riding on a flat riding ground with no obstacles was worlds apart from riding on a rough forest path.
“Are you alright, Lady Ninia?”
Jerome, riding a brown horse, rode alongside her and asked. Knowing how to ride and actually riding were different. He also knew that Ninia was not accustomed to navigating forest paths. Moreover, a night road where one could barely see ahead was the worst.
Since he couldn’t carry the soon-to-be wife of his master in his arms, the best course of action was to rest at night and travel slowly during the day.
“I’m worried that we’re being delayed because of me.”
Ninia knew that Jerome was being considerate of her. While traveling, he kept asking if she was uncomfortable or needed anything. She vividly remembered Jerome’s flustered expression when she first told him that she was not the Saint.
Jerome, unsure how to continue calling her the former Saint, addressed her as “Lady” after her name. Lady. It seemed better than “Madam Ninia.” Grateful for Jerome’s consideration, she smiled.
“……We should be able to find a carriage once we arrive at Piran Village.”
It was the smile of the Saint who once embraced the entire continent. Jerome, momentarily speechless, replied a little late. He, too, had heard of Saint Ninia’s fame.
The Lily of the Caner Church. The Saint of Benevolence, Ninia.
She was someone who interacted with both the lowest and the highest. Nobles, royalty, even the Emperor, desired to meet Ninia and receive her blessing. As the face of the Caner Church, Ninia was a prominent figure in the continent’s social circles.
And what was this great Saint like when she was among the lowest?
Ninia walked into the slums with their foul odors and bestowed her holy power, and she didn’t hesitate to touch wounds oozing with pus.
‘They say you never know what might happen. I didn’t know that applied to Saints as well.’
The respected Saint had fallen to the bottom in an instant. Jerome’s complex gaze was directed towards Ninia.
The responsibility for this carriage attack rested entirely with Tarahan. Whether it was due to his birth or his temperament, he had many enemies. Nobles and commoners alike, there were countless people who wanted him dead. Whether the information was leaked or not, the attackers had ambushed the carriage based solely on the word that it was headed to Tarahan.
‘The Temple is ruthless too.’
The Temple and Tarahan had some kind of agreement. The Temple had completely handed over Ninia to Tarahan. That meant they would no longer be responsible for her.
If they had even just switched carriages midway, the attack might not have happened. No one was foolish enough to provoke the Caner Church. Without the Caner emblem on the carriage, the attackers had readily assaulted Ninia.
‘If the former Saint dies, they’ll try to shift all the blame onto the Duke.’
Ninia’s retirement was already public knowledge. However, she was portrayed as a revered saint, not a sinner. The image of the former Saint was still significant, so if Ninia had died in this incident, all resentment would undoubtedly be directed towards the North.
Does this woman know that? Perhaps it’s better that she doesn’t. Jerome pitied Ninia. He knew she wouldn’t be happy in the North.
Meanwhile, Ninia, unaware of the gazes directed at her, was urging her horse onward. Since the horse was inherently gentle and she’d been riding it for several days, she was now able to do other things while sitting on it.
Ninia was fiddling with a handkerchief while holding the reins. On the corner of the light beige handkerchief, a laurel wreath symbolizing victory was embroidered, and ash leaves were embroidered on all four sides.
‘I thought it would suit him.’
While laurel wreaths were common, thinking of him made her want to embroider ash leaves. Ash leaves were known to ward off bad luck. The first time she saw him, covered in blood, he looked like a demon. She had intended the embroidery to mean that real demons should stay away.
‘……He’ll probably laugh.’
Ninia put the handkerchief in her pocket. Even if she couldn’t give it to him, she couldn’t throw it away.
‘He……dislikes me.’
Those red eyes held not just dislike for Ninia, but even a glimmer of hatred. It was possible for him to dislike her. But the hatred was difficult to understand.
‘If a husband-to-be dislikes his wife……should the wife be sad?’
Ninia found it difficult to distinguish whether this was normal or not.
She had dedicated her body and mind to the Temple. In other words, she had never imagined she would meet a husband-to-be.
‘This strangely stinging feeling.’
As she placed her hand on her chest, a cool sensation climbed up her fingertips.
Is it sadness? Or is it misery? Ninia gave up thinking. Whatever she felt, it was a useless emotion. She suppressed the churning in her stomach with resignation.
‘He said he brought me at a high price.’
Many offered donations to the Temple and obtained what they desired. Based on what Tarahan said, it seemed that the Temple hadn’t forced Ninia on him.
“We’re almost there.”
Jerome, stopping his horse, pointed below the cliff. A village with colorful roofs and several branching roads was visible. Once they descended, the road to the Danteor territory would begin.
‘So this is the North.’
Ninia nodded at Jerome’s words. Seen from above, it looked like an anthill. Ninia huddled against the cold wind.
‘It’s cold.’
As she confirmed that this was indeed the North, the wind felt cold. It was as if the weather itself was watching her. But as if to prevent anyone from noticing, Ninia straightened her back. Fortunately, Jerome seemed not to have seen her do so.
“It’s still quite a ways to the castle, but you can’t go any further in those clothes, Lady Ninia. What was the Temple thinking…….”
Jerome spoke as he led his horse down the path. Ninia knew what he meant by trailing off at the end of his sentence, but she simply smiled.
She was wearing a navy blue dress. Moreover, it was made of fabric not meant for winter, allowing the chill to seep into her body.
However, Ninia didn’t blame the Temple. She had abandoned such sentiments long ago. Instead, Ninia expressed her gratitude to Jerome for his consideration.
“Thank you for your concern.”
“……Let’s go.”
With an indescribable expression, Jerome turned away. He seemed cautious as he guided Ninia.
‘You don’t have to be like that.’
Ninia murmured inwardly, but she couldn’t bring herself to say such a thing to someone who was sincerely looking after her.
The village they arrived in was more bustling than it had appeared from above. Piran Village was one of the more prosperous among the 48 villages ruled by Tarahan, and Jerome told her it had suffered little damage even during the war.
“Let’s buy some clothes here.”
Jerome stopped at a clothing store and bought winter clothes for Ninia. Ninia accepted the clothes he offered. What felt heavy enough to be a pile of clothes was just a single coat.
“……Do I have to wear something like this?”
Her shoulders felt heavy as she put on the coat made of black ox hide. With her small frame, from a distance she looked less like a person and more like a black ball.
“Yes. Since it’s winter… someone who’s been in the central region would freeze to death without this kind of preparation.”
While it was always cold in the North, there was a particularly cold period. The Dark Winter. The people of the North called this harsh weather by that name.
“But once the coldest part of winter passes, something similar to spring in the central region arrives.”
Jerome added, as if to reassure her not to worry too much. If Ninia died, he would also be in trouble. Moreover, if she cried just from the cold, the rest of the journey would be extremely tiring.
However, contrary to Jerome’s expectations, the former Saint seemed overly calm in a situation that anyone else would find strangely unsettling.
“I see. Thank you for telling me.”
At those words, Jerome closed his mouth. He didn’t know how many times he had been thanked so far. This woman had a knack for leaving people speechless, Jerome thought.
After briefly stopping at the village to prepare, Jerome led Ninia across the Peria Forest. The further north they went, the more it snowed. The forest, covered in white, was eerily silent.
‘The Dark Winter.’
Ninia inwardly repeated the name the Northerners used for the coldest part of winter. Cold, mystical crystals were wetting the back of her hand.
