Chapter 70
When I think about it, even earlier when a bird was shot down, the first group to show up was them.
“They’re temple priests.”
As I kept watching curiously, Noah answered Roze’s question.
Once I heard that, it instantly explained why those people were all wearing the same clothes.
But the thing was, those clothes were so shabby.
“Aren’t they cold?”
On top of that, the clothes were so thin you couldn’t even call them proper winter clothes. I started wondering—was the life of a priest actually harsher than that of the servants?
“Please, don’t worry and enjoy the hunt to your heart’s content. We will atone for the sins of the sacrificed animals through prayer.”
Well, apparently not.
An extremely overweight old man appeared, looking heavy enough to make the horse carrying him seem pitiful. He was introduced as the High Priest of the temple.
Unlike the regular priests who wore quilted, worn-out gray cotton clothes, the High Priest wore a glossy leather coat made from cowhide.
“What a show-off.”
If killing animals was a sin, shouldn’t they be condemning hunting altogether? And if it’s such a sin, how could he shamelessly wear a coat made of animal leather?
But what really pissed off Roze was the fact that the ones who were supposedly “atoning through prayer” were the regular priests—gaunt and pale, looking like they hadn’t eaten properly in weeks—while the High Priest sat comfortably on his horse, barking orders.
“That useless man actually showed up.”
Apparently, Roze wasn’t the only one thinking this. Noah muttered in a barely audible voice, just loud enough for her to hear.
He didn’t voice his complaints out loud, but just from his tone, it was painfully clear how much he disliked the man.
Roze turned her head slightly to glance at his face.
“That was just talking to myself,” Noah quickly defended himself.
It seemed like he wanted to clarify that he hadn’t broken Roze’s previous advice about staying polite.
Roze laughed, finding even his awkward little cough adorable—but then another thought struck her.
Did he really not resent them?
You’d think he would, and with good reason. Yet, aside from the High Priest, Noah didn’t send a single resentful look at the other priests, who were busy cleaning up the bison.
“Noah really is such a good person…”
Even though he nearly died growing up because of a divine prophecy, and even now, no one praised him for the good things he’d done—
“He’s just too kind…”
Noah didn’t harbor blind resentment toward them.
It was hard to believe that someone like him would ever become the bloodthirsty tyrant from the original story.
Roze found it difficult to believe that the Noah in the original tale even existed at all.
“Neighhhh!”
“Kyaa!”
“Lady Christina!”
Just as Roze was staring up at Noah with a mixture of admiration and sorrow, a sudden commotion broke out nearby.
Startled by the urgency of the screams, Roze turned her head quickly—only to see that the situation had already been handled.
“Are you all right, Lady Christina?”
A loud neighing from a horse, and Jonathan suddenly holding the reins of Christina’s horse—it was easy to piece things together.
It seemed that Christina’s horse had been startled by something, and Jonathan had saved her from falling.
“Good job, Jonathan!”
Apparently, Jonathan had been keeping a close eye on Christina even here.
“…Huh?”
But for some reason, the way Christina was looking at Jonathan was… wistful.
“Wait… wasn’t she making that face because of Noah?”
* * *
“Then… why?”
While Roze was still trying to decipher Christina’s wistful gaze, lunchtime arrived.
Thick cloths were laid out on the ground, and people sat in small groups here and there.
“I’ve never seen golden eyes before. Are all people from the Ridé continent like this?”
As expected, no matter how cute the cats were, the protagonist’s presence couldn’t be overshadowed. When Aria sat down near a large tree, people naturally gathered around her again.
“You have to try this, Lady Aria. I bet you can only get fish sandwiches like this here!”
“I’ll pour you some tea too. Is aged tea from the East also popular on the Ridé continent?”
While other nobles quietly focused on the food served by their servants, only the area around Aria buzzed with chatter and excitement.
That said, the cats hadn’t completely lost their popularity.
“Mother, they’re here.”
“Oh my… Hello. These cats are so well-behaved. May we join you?”
“Of course!”
The young lady and her mother who had first shown interest in the cats, along with two other noblewomen and their daughters who also liked cats, joined Roze’s group.
Roze had no choice but to set up separately from Noah, as Melissa was practically glaring daggers at her.
Contrary to what the Duke of Raymond and Melissa had likely hoped, Christina was sitting with them too.
“Do cats like any of the food here?”
“I brought some plain grilled fish just in case.”
“That’s a relief.”
Luckily, she had passed Oliver to Jonathan earlier to keep in his jacket pocket. With all these people around, the little guy might have been too scared to even crack a peanut.
Anyway—
“Lady Christina, what a surprise to meet you here. It’s been a while.”
“Hello, Marchioness of Markwin.”
While Roze was genuinely happy to have the chance to chat with a few nobles, Christina looked nervous. It seemed like she had something to say to Roze privately.
“What’s going on…? She keeps staring at Jonathan.”
Her gaze kept drifting toward Jonathan, making it obvious something had happened between them.
“Did Jonathan do something when he escorted her home?”
For now, Christina didn’t look angry, so Roze decided to ask about it later and instead started taking out the cats from her basket one by one.
People’s faces brightened the moment they saw the cats—this was the perfect opportunity.
“My name is Roze. I don’t have a family name… Well, to be honest, I can’t remember it. I likely don’t come from a background suited to be in such company. And… I’m a beastkin.”
Roze greeted them with a bright smile and observed their reactions.
Even if they had sat down here because they liked cats enough to ignore the protagonist’s presence, she couldn’t be sure how they felt about her.
“I see. My name is Sally—most call me the Marchioness of Markwin. This is my daughter, Angelina.”
“Hello.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both! Lady Angelina, I think I saw you earlier too, didn’t I?”
Fortunately, neither the Marchioness nor her daughter—and not even the others who joined in the greetings—seemed especially wary.
“Is it true, Lady Roze, that you can really end the drought?”
“The drought?”
Angelina asked something Roze didn’t quite understand, eyes shining with anticipation. But Roze couldn’t let her guard down. These were nobles, after all, and hiding their true feelings was second nature.
Still, Roze smiled without hesitation.
If even one of them—just one—could open their heart a little…
If she could find just one noble who wasn’t like the Duke of Raymond…
Then all of this effort would be more than worth it.
Surely, not every noble in this empire was obsessed with bloodlines and only interested in enriching themselves.
In any society, there are always thoughtless villains—but there are also unexpectedly kind people in the most unlikely places.
Since Duke Raymond now held real power in the council, those kinds of nobles wouldn’t easily stand out. But Roze hoped to find them.
She only needed to find one person. Just one.
People tend to associate with those like themselves, so if she found that one, chances were good others like them would be nearby.
Of course, there was no guarantee that even they would be completely free of prejudice against her red eyes—but she had to try.
If they truly cared for the people of their territory, they’d start to see that real life mattered more than divine prophecy.
“Eat slowly. I’ll make sure to bring you some snacks tomorrow too.”
Just as Roze was trying to figure out the best way to transition the conversation into something serious—like thoughts on the latest tax reforms—
“By the way… aren’t those people eating?”
She noticed the priests standing around nearby, not touching any food.
Even the servants who’d been waiting on the nobles had started eating one by one, but the priests simply lingered nearby, doing nothing.
And it didn’t look like they didn’t want to eat. Some of the younger priests, not yet fully grown, were visibly swallowing their saliva as they looked at the food set out on nearby mats.
“Aren’t priests supposed to be treated well?”
They served the gods, and considering people were even willing to kill in the name of prophecy, the temple must hold significant power.
But these priests looked even worse off than the servants.
