Chapter 24
As the young Crown Prince led his entourage into the vast grounds of the Morda Monastery, hundreds of citizens scattered flower petals along the path.
Gareth raised a hand, acknowledging the welcome. The cheers of the citizens swelled, a ritual he had endured for days but one he never tired of. With his chin held high, he rode his horse with a triumphant air.
Once they cleared the congested city streets, the sprawling gardens and the grand temple came into view. He brought the knights to a halt before what appeared to be an abbey.
“You must have had a difficult journey.”
A moment later, a man dressed in pristine white clerical robes stepped out to greet him.
Gareth observed him closely from his saddle. The man had a face as sharp as an arrowhead and thin, silver hair with a faint blue luster.
He sensed immediately that this monk was not entirely human. His complexion was unnaturally pale, and the tips of his ears were pointed. He was likely a half-elf or a quarter-elf.
It was hardly a strange occurrence. In the northeastern regions of the former Osiria Kingdom, it was not difficult to find demi-humans carrying the blood of elves or dwarves.
Suppressing an instinctive revulsion toward a species different from his own, Gareth spoke in a tone of cold authority.
“Are you the abbot of this place?”
“I am, your noble Crown Prince. My name is Basilis, and I am entrusted with the management of this monastery.”
The man wore a gentle smile.
“I bid you a heartfelt welcome to Morda Monastery.”
“This land is where my ancestor, the Great Emperor Darian, achieved his first victory against the North; it is a sacred ground where he received the mandate to unify the nations. I, too, am truly delighted to be here.”
Gareth dismounted with a fluid motion and spoke with the haughty tone typical of the imperial family.
“In accordance with imperial tradition, I seek to be blessed in the names of the saints. Pray that divine grace may shine upon the future of myself and my sister.”
“I shall fulfill your request with joy.”
The abbot replied respectfully, then added cautiously, “For today, how would you like to rest from your journey at my private residence? We have been preparing a grand banquet for several days to host Your Highness.”
Gareth hesitated.
By custom, they were supposed to stay in the pilgrims’ quarters. Staying at the abbot’s private residence could easily be misconstrued as political solicitation.
Gareth glanced back at Varkas, who stood behind him like a shadow. Perhaps not wanting to attract attention, Varkas had his face partially concealed by a heavy hood.
Varkas, who had been scanning the monastery thoughtfully, finally gave a nod.
“Do as you see fit, Your Highness.”
“Very well. Then we shall stay at the abbot’s private residence tonight.”
With his approval, the waiting servants descended the stairs in perfect order to attend to the guests. As Gareth handed over his reins, he gave an instruction to Varkas.
“Make sure you look after Aila. Since this is her first time this far from home, everything will feel strange and uncomfortable for her.”
Varkas, who had been stroking his horse, gave a light nod.
Gareth frowned. If only he would show as much devotion to his sister as he did to his horse.
Grumbling to himself, he turned to follow the monks, when a flashy carriage at the edge of the clearing suddenly caught his eye.
He glared at the windows of the carriage, hidden behind thick curtains, his brow furrowed. Whether it was out of newfound caution or because she had finally realized her place, Talia Roem Gwirta had remained cooped up inside throughout the journey. It was almost a waste that he had been so prepared to wring that slender neck of hers should she try anything foolish.
*If only she would continue to remain quiet like this…*
But that was not in the nature of Talia Roem Gwirta. She was a woman who tagged along with dirty schemes in mind. There was no telling when, where, or what kind of trouble she would cause.
Gareth continued to stare daggers at the carriage and barked fiercely at Varkas.
“And tell that woman clearly. Tell her to remain as silent as a mouse and stay out of my sight, just as she has been.”
Varkas’s eyes narrowed slightly. He clearly did not like that Gareth was openly showing his hostility toward his half-sister. Come to think of it, Varkas had even nagged him, uncharacteristically, to be mindful of his behavior for the sake of his reputation.
Gareth snorted in defiance. Who among the imperial citizens didn’t know that the Crown Prince wished to tear his father’s illegitimate child to shreds? It was a farce to hush it up now.
He held his chin high and followed the priests to the mansion prepared behind the main hall.
The abbot’s private residence was as grand as any annex in the Imperial Palace. Satisfied that he would at least be comfortable for the night, a smile formed on his face. He followed the monks into the magnificent hall.
The abbot led him to the most opulent room in the residence.
Gareth surveyed the spacious bedroom with a critical eye. Since it was usually occupied by the abbot, the walls were hung with paintings depicting the Holy War, and prayer books and theological texts lay on the desk.
Although not decorated to his personal taste, the rest was acceptable. He carelessly tossed his horse-scented cloak aside and issued orders to the servants waiting at the door.
“I wish to wash first. Prepare a tub large enough for me to stretch my legs in, filled with clean water.”
Once the servants dispersed, he sat in a chair by the window and gestured toward the squires who had followed him. Following his silent command, two boys quickly began to strip off his armor.
Gareth left his body to them and picked up a wine glass resting on a shelf. A quick-witted servant immediately filled it. Leaning back, he took a sip of the chilled wine. The viscous liquid slid down his throat, spreading an intense aroma throughout his mouth.
Savoring the robust flavor, he let out a languid moan. He could look forward to the banquet; the wine provided by the monastery suited even his palate, which had been spoiled by all manner of rare spirits.
*It seems the holy trade is quite lucrative.*
He curled his lip as he looked out the window at the monastery’s vast grounds. High-ranking priests often enjoyed wealth that rivaled that of the nobility. The abbot here was undoubtedly living a life as extravagant as any grand aristocrat.
Freed from his heavy armor, Gareth shed his sweat-soaked clothes and plunged into the bathwater. The servants began to scrub his body with soft brushes. He rested his head against the rim of the tub, sipping the rest of his wine.
After soaking, he finally felt a semblance of vitality return to his body. He climbed out and donned the summer evening attire prepared by the servants. After draping a velvet robe with minimal adornments over his shoulders, he left the room, guided by the monks.
“We have prepared your meal in the hall on the floor below.”
The monk, holding a dim lantern, spoke cautiously as he descended the marble staircase covered in soft carpet.
Gareth gave a curt nod. A ruler had to be as sparing with his words as possible. He knew all too well how much silence could accomplish. That was why he kept a man who was the very embodiment of silence by his side.
Gareth spotted Varkas standing tall at the entrance to the hall, as if waiting for him, and furrowed his brows.
A strange sense of hostility always bubbled up whenever he saw him. Even though Varkas had never once defied him. Was it because of this man’s unique presence? Or because he never showed what was in his heart?
He had watched over him since childhood, yet Varkas always felt like a stranger he needed to be wary of. That was what made him uneasy.
Was it truly alright to entrust half of his life to this man?
“Where is Aila?”
“The Princess is resting in the dormitory building used by the priestesses. She said she would not attend the banquet as she is exhausted.”
“She must be worn out from camping for several days.”
“I have provided medicine that will aid in her recovery, so you need not worry too much.”
At the dry, emotionless reply, Gareth frowned. He knew that this man, at least, took a gentler attitude toward his sister.
Despite being a man in his prime, Varkas Laedgo Siorcan treated women as if they were nothing. He was so cold to the women who approached him that it even made Gareth shudder to watch. He supposed he should be thankful that Varkas at least allowed Aila into his company.
However, Gareth could not bring himself to approve of his tepid attitude. Here he was, in possession of the most precious treasure in the empire, yet he showed not even a speck of gratitude for it.
He snapped in a somewhat sharp tone:
“Aila is your fiancée. Shouldn’t you be paying more attention to her?”