The Royal Wedding
Ulrich finished speaking and leaned back against the chair, basking in the sunlight pouring into the backyard. Roberta stood still, watching him. Questions lingered in her mind.
Most of them were about names. The fact that he sometimes borrowed names meant it wasn't only Armin. She found herself wondering what other names he had used—and whether any of them were ones she knew.
And then there was Armin himself. Not just anyone, but his adopted son. No matter how harsh Dithmarschen was, someone in that position would not die easily.
After some hesitation, she carefully asked,
"What… happened to Lord Armin?"
"There was an accident. Something happened while I was away."
An accident? Something happened? She narrowed her eyes. Did that mean he died from a plague or a magical beast? Just as she was about to ask further, he spoke first.
"Did you tell Vinicio about the magical beasts?"
Setting aside her question about Armin, she replied,
"By magical beasts… do you mean Galua?"
"Yes."
He was referring to the massacre they had witnessed just before arriving in Eisburg. A half-human, half-fairy of unknown origin had used magical beasts to hunt down the villagers.
Ulrich's group had slain all the beasts, and the culprit seemed to have taken her own life—but the matter had not truly ended.
"I only told him that magical beasts attacked the village."
"So you did not reveal the full story."
"Not yet. There are too many uncertainties."
While speaking with Archbishop Vinicio, she had mentioned the incident but concealed the fact that Galua was the culprit—and that she had controlled the beasts.
In that village, Ulrich had spoken of a secret tied to the founding of the Church, and that the culprit was connected to a lineage sharing the same progenitor as Kormillius.
She did not know whether the archbishop was aware of that secret, but revealing the truth would cause great upheaval. The Kingdom of Osnover was already in conflict with the Pantheon—no, with Kormillius—and King Rihart had already been excommunicated.
It was already problematic enough that magical beasts had appeared near the capital. But if it became known that someone had controlled them? Rumors could spread that Rihart was entangled with agents of an evil god—that he had sacrificed his people for some hidden gain.
For that reason, Roberta judged it best to conceal the truth until she understood more.
"You did well. For now, it is best not to bring it into the open. Vinicio is a good man, but there is nothing he can do at the moment. His hands and feet have been bound by the summons, and there are too many eyes watching. If he moves carelessly, it will only heighten the enemy's vigilance."
Roberta frowned.
"So you believe there are forces here involved in this?"
"Given the circumstances, we must assume so."
That made sense. He had left Dithmarschen in the first place because of suspicion. Sensing a conspiracy tied to the royal marriage, he had ended his seclusion and come all the way to Eisburg.
And what meaning was there in a single Galua annihilating a village? It had to be part of something greater—merely groundwork for a larger plan.
The problem was that everything was still speculation. They knew there was a scheme, but it remained vague. They did not know what it aimed for, or how it would unfold.
"Have you eaten?"
"No. Our conversation ended somewhat awkwardly."
"Then go and rest. Recover from your fatigue today—we will talk tomorrow."
Stopping her from following, he left the estate alone.
After a late lunch, Roberta returned to the backyard. She had lain down to take a nap, but sleep would not come. Ulrich had told her to rest, yet she did not feel particularly tired.
She had crossed the Ice Peninsula, after all. A few days of travel were nothing to her.
Sitting in a chair, she sipped the tea brought by a servant and gazed up at the sky, retracing her journey.
A village that rose again after being attacked by magical beasts. A stepmother who, blinded by jealousy, cast magic on her daughter. A clan that had served a single person for centuries. A man blessed by an evil god. Each memory remained vivid in her mind.
She had traveled many places as an apprentice priest, following Bishop Alonso and the priests of the Pantheon. But experiences like these—she had never had them before.
Resting her hands holding the teacup on her lap, she thought,
'This will all end soon.'
She was now in Eisburg, the destination of her journey. The wedding was only days away, and once it ended, she would return immediately.
And the moment she arrived back in Dithmarschen, the journey would be over. Thinking of that made her uneasy.
'Will I really leave Dithmarschen?'
Ulrich… would he return there?
Count Meyer Wilhelm had said that Ulrich would leave after this journey—that he would wander the world under another name. Ulrich had replied that it was not necessarily so, but Wilhelm had been certain.
At the time, she had dismissed it as exaggeration. But now, she thought the same. That once this journey ended, he would leave.
During their time together, she had seen him change names, as if wishing to be forgotten.
Ulrich of Dithmarschen had remained in one place for too long—and had become too well known. It did not suit the man she had seen.
Had he stayed there, as he himself had said, he would have lived without noticing the passage of time, in a world like an artificial garden.
When boredom struck, he would fall into deep sleep until the following year. He would greet the occasional ties from his past, watch over the Ice Peninsula, and remain as a lord who had lived an unimaginably long life.
But now, a turning point had come.
He had ended his seclusion and begun a journey.
It had started in Luman's village—a journey confronting past memories and the present, reclaiming time he had forgotten within that artificial garden. His use of the name Armin was not merely out of regret.
He had lived long enough as Ulrich—he was preparing for what came next. So that he could cast aside his name and leave at any time.
And if he truly left… what would happen to her?
"I don't know… what will happen from here."
She murmured to herself, letting out a sigh.
Ordinarily, it would not matter. Even if a lord died or disappeared, a priest remained at their post. Priests only moved when instructed by the Pantheon.
But Roberta was different. Dithmarschen was practically worthless to the Pantheon. It was only significant because of one man there, making it a diocese personally overseen by the Pope. That was also why she had been sent there.
"Priest Roberta?"
She turned her head. Fritz had also come out into the backyard. He had washed himself clean after their sparring session.
"Are you resting here? Aren't you tired?"
"I'm fine. More importantly, what about you? You just finished training, didn't you?"
"I thought I might take a nap, but I can't seem to fall asleep."
She didn't need to ask why. It was because of the same worry she had—or rather, a heavier one than hers.
Roberta was only parting with someone she had been with for about a year. But the boy had to let go of someone his family had served for generations.
She had once advised Fritz not to be impatient, but there had been a reason he kept showing urgency. Since this could be their final journey, he could not afford to take things slowly and learn at ease.
"Fritz."
After a moment of thought, she spoke.
"Yes?"
"If… Lord Ulrich leaves, what will you do?"
At the mention of leaving, Fritz flinched.
"Uh… well… I'll still have to remain in Dithmarschen. Lord Bernhard presented me to Lord Ulrich as his successor. And besides… I don't really have another path anyway."
In Osnover, primogeniture was the norm—and Fritz was the fourth son.
"Well, that's something for later. For now, I'm trying not to think about it."
"I thought you would be more upset. I'm glad."
"It's not like he'll necessarily leave right away, right?"
Roberta looked at the boy, who raised his voice in forced brightness.
"The reason Lord Ulrich came here hasn't been fully revealed yet, and I don't think this will end as a simple matter."
"You think so too?"
"Of course. It's mainly because Lord Ulrich is suspicious, but also what happened in that village, and Lord Rihart being excommunicated—it all feels like something big is coming."
Fritz added that perhaps that was why Ulrich was not here now. Though he had not told them directly, they both knew he had gone to investigate matters related to the royal wedding.
"You're right. It does feel like something serious is coming."
She stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"There's no need for us to just sit around waiting."
"Then I'll come with you."
Fritz stood up as well.
"But do you have somewhere in mind?"
"It's not that I don't. I've seen it before."
When she had been an apprentice priest, Roberta had assisted Alonso in rooting out heresy. How had he approached heretics back then? As she sifted through her memories, she nodded.
"Let's find a mage."
The two left the estate and walked along the main road.
They had both changed their appearances. Roberta wore plain clothes instead of her priest's robes, and Fritz dressed simply so as not to give off the impression of a noble.
"You're looking for a mage?"
"Yes. That's something we can verify right away."
Fritz tilted his head, clearly wondering why a mage of all things.
"There's a saying: when you deal with a mage—"
"Keep a priest by your side. That's what Lord Ulrich said, right?"
Ulrich had once said those exact words to Matthias, the lord and husband of Oxana Narses, after she had punished her stepmother.
"Yes. It's quite an old proverb."
"Doesn't it mean they don't get along, so you keep them together to keep each other in check?"
"That's part of it. But do you know why they don't get along?"
Fritz admitted he didn't and asked for the reason.
As far as he knew, there was only one difference between priests and mages: whether they had undergone ordination. Of course, that difference was enormous in human society.
Both used the mana granted to the world by the heavenly gods, and ordination did not create a difference in their ability to control it.
When Oxana Narses had fought Roberta, she had summoned lightning with a mere gesture—something other high-ranking priests could also do. They simply chose not to.
"The difference between priests and mages is whether they learn mana for faith, or for themselves. A mage who comes to understand faith and receives ordination can become a priest."
"If there's so little difference, why do they dislike each other so much? Is it because unordained people use magic?"
Roberta smiled and shook her head.
"Of course not. If that were the reason, I would have disliked you for using mana to start a fire. You haven't been ordained either, yet you used mana."
"Ah… that's true."
"The reason we dislike each other is because of that difference in belief I just mentioned. Just as mages consider us arrogant, we consider them arrogant as well."
Suddenly, Roberta stopped walking. They had reached the entrance to an alley branching off from the main road leading to the royal palace.
"Is something wrong?"
Staring into the narrow alley, she focused her senses. She felt a breeze—but it was not caused by air currents. It was mana, which she often likened to wind. That wind-like flow of mana was moving from inside the alley outward toward the street.
"This way."
"You can feel something?"
"Mages have their own kind of markers."
"Markers?" Fritz blinked.
"Anyway, that proverb has another meaning. Where there are no priests, mages gather in droves—like insects swarming to sweet confections."
Following the flow of mana into the alley, the two eventually stopped in front of a house.
At a glance, it was an ordinary three-story building. But unlike the nearby houses, it had no nameplate.
All the windows were shut, and moss and vines crept along its outer walls. It looked like an abandoned house left without an owner.
But standing before it, they felt a strong wind. This was the source. It was a mage's base—and this was how they marked it in place of a nameplate.
Knock, knock.
"Who is it?"
The response came after a slight delay.
"I followed the flow."
"And your name?"
"Nevera Oxana."
At the surname "Oxana" attached to the alias, Fritz turned toward her—but she placed a finger to her lips and gave him a slight, knowing smile.
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