Chapter 26
The Theodore she had been waiting to meet resembled the figure Rieta had imagined in some ways. Only his “wheat-colored hair and blue eyes” and the fact that he was “handsome” matched her expectations. But in reality, he was far more splendid and beautiful than anything she had anticipated. The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears, making it hard to put into words how she felt.
Rieta tried her best to steady herself. Her heart was beating so fiercely it reached her head, leaving her a little dizzy—but this was the middle of a blessing ritual. Forcing her trembling hands to calm, she placed one gently upon Theodore’s forehead. His skin was hot to the touch. Whether he knew it or not, Theodore tilted his head toward her and closed his eyes.
As the sight of those lovely, vivid blue eyes vanished from her view, a pang of longing welled up inside her. His eyes were so mysterious a shade of blue that Rieta instinctively wanted to make them hers. They held a curious brilliance like a gemstone, yet were deep as the ocean’s abyss. Though striking in color, they suited his soft wheat-colored hair perfectly.
“I, Saintess Rieta, following the words of God, bless you who protect the Empire…”
This time, Rieta lowered her head even more than she had during practice. Perhaps that way, she could hide the flush rising hotly over her face. She forced herself to pronounce each word clearly, one syllable at a time, and tried to direct her gaze away from him. Yet her eyes kept drifting back toward Theodore, as if drawn by an unseen thread. She could not tear them away.
At last, she closed her eyes tight, just as he had, and recited the final line of the blessing.
“May the blessing of the goddess Rebelline be upon you…”
“Leah! Leah!”
“Oh, Saintess, you’re back. Did the blessing go well?”
“Leah, how does my face look? Is it red?”
Early that morning, Rieta had gone to the prayer chamber with excited steps. But only a few hours later, she came rushing back to her quarters, her skirts lifted slightly as she hurried along in little steps. The moment she opened the door, she called out for her personal maid, Leah.
Leah, born into a family that had served Saintesses and Clerics for generations, immediately put down what she was holding and hurried toward Rieta, whose face looked as though it might burst from redness. Having cared for her since childhood, Leah inspected her mistress’s features in detail, as always. Yes, her face was quite flushed—but Leah decided it best not to say that aloud.
“Saintess, what happened?”
“I… I met Sir Arbelche. I gave him my blessing myself.”
“That’s wonderful! You’d been wanting to meet him for so long. So? How was it, seeing him in person?”
“He was much more splendid than I ever imagined, and… and…”
Rieta barely managed to utter “splendid” before her words trailed off. Unable to form a proper sentence, she buried her face in both hands. Leah, of course, understood immediately what kind of shy feelings her mistress was trying to hide. Covering her mouth with her fingertips, Leah exclaimed softly over and over, “Oh my, oh my.” The beloved daughter of God, falling in love with someone—what a thing!
“The homecoming banquet is supposed to begin at sunset, isn’t it?”
“Hm?”
“I mean the banquet. Surely that knight will attend! That’s your chance to speak to him naturally. You’re beautiful and kind, Saintess. He will surely come to like you.”
“L-Like me? I don’t mean to become… that sort of thing with Sir Arbelche…”
“You don’t have to hide it from me! Oh, and earlier, a gift was delivered for you.”
“A gift?”
It was useless trying to hide things from Leah—she always found out. But a gift? Rieta, cheeks still burning, watched as Leah disappeared into the powder room and soon returned with something draped under white cloth, large as a full-grown woman. Even covered, it was obvious the item was a luxurious dress displayed on a mannequin.
“Who sent this?”
“His Grace, the Young Duke of Winterreil.”
“Even just offering to partner with me was generous enough… but to send me a dress as well…”
The dress Norman had sent was pure white. From the neckline to the sleeves, all the way down to the hem, it was made entirely of white fabric. There were no contrasting colors, no beads, no elaborate pleating. Only the hem and sleeves bore lace, embroidered delicately with pale yellow thread. Around the waist, a glossy silk sash shimmered like rippling waves when it moved.
At a glance, it could seem plain. Yet for Rieta, who was expected to be upright and modest, the dress suited her perfectly for the homecoming banquet.
“But the dress isn’t the most important thing right now. What matters is…”
“What?”
“Adornment, of course. By the time the banquet reaches its peak, it’ll be evening. Let’s braid your hair with a ribbon threaded with pearls. And then—”
Leah pushed Rieta up from her seat and guided her into the powder room. Even without a proper dress, with just her hair neatly combed, Rieta’s reflection in the tall mirror beside the vanity looked strikingly lovely. If she weren’t a Saintess, but merely “Lady Rosanac,” surely society would have called her a rose, a swan, the flower of the ballroom.
“Normally, Saintesses and clergy are forbidden from makeup. But today, let me do just a touch—so subtle it will look natural. I promise, you’ll be the most beautiful lady at the banquet.”
Of course, Leah had already applied a faint touch of powder, but she didn’t bother mentioning it.
“But isn’t tonight’s focus supposed to be the Holy Knights?”
“Leave it to me, Saintess. You trust me, don’t you?”
Rieta gave a helpless little smile, her expression innocent as ever.
“Should we add fresh flowers to your hair? Perhaps a white rose tucked by your ear? Though… with accessories too, the stiff old Clerics might complain. Should I leave them out?”
“…The sacred stone.”
“Pardon?”
“The sacred stone I received from the High Priest. I should wear that around my neck.”
Sir Theodore Arbelche was known for his deep faith. And in Rieta’s experience, men like him tended to admire women who shared their devotion. If she could wear only one piece of jewelry, it could only be the sacred stone—the holy relic bestowed upon her by the temple.
“The sacred stone—what a brilliant idea, Saintess! You left it on your bedroom shelf, right? I’ll fetch it.”
Leah returned carrying a glass case from Rieta’s study. When she opened it, the sacred stone gleamed with light. It had been given to Rieta by Silbert on the day she was officially recognized as a Saintess. She treasured it dearly, so much so that she dared not carry it outside for fear of losing it. Until now, she had only taken it out at bedtime to gaze upon briefly before setting it back.
But recently, she hadn’t even looked at it—leaving the case high on a shelf, ignored.
The holy blue glow brushed across her face. Rieta’s lips curved into a faint, crooked smile.
To Rieta, who once schemed to drive out Charlotte, the sacred stone was a bitter reminder of failure—the very object that had ruined her plan, reduced to nothing more than a vexing stone. Of course, she knew how sacred and powerful it truly was. Calling it a “rock” was practically blasphemy. Still, the memory of that failure left her disappointed and angry for quite some time.
Even recalling it now soured her mood. But she couldn’t stay bitter forever. She owed gratitude to the High Priest who had gifted it to her. With a sigh, Rieta tried to let the ill feelings go.
I used to get angry just looking at this stone… but I must move past that. Bad memories are best erased with good ones, after all.
Imagining herself wearing the sacred stone while greeting Theodore with a smile, Rieta’s lips softened into a sweet expression.
Marc stretched his arms above his head and rolled his neck side to side. His joints popped with audible cracks. After five long years stationed at the Leopold garrison, he had finally returned—only to undergo plague inspection immediately after the blessing ceremony.
Since that man carried disease wherever he went, every knight was required to undergo thorough examinations upon return. It took a long time: multiple checks followed by purification rites. The evening timing of the banquet was set specifically to allow time for these procedures.
“I’m exhausted. Why did I have to be last in line for inspection?”
“Cheer up—it’s almost time for the banquet.”
“I’d rather skip it altogether and go home to rest.”
“You’re not the only one who feels that way. But it’s the homecoming banquet—we don’t have a choice.”
The younger knights still looked forward to the banquet, but those who had long served as Holy Knights weren’t so eager. They would rather spend the time with parents, spouses, or children, or finally sleep in a real bed instead of hard ground. Many planned to show their faces briefly at the banquet, then leave early.
“So why are you still hanging around the training grounds?”
“They said we have to wait here until every knight finishes inspection.”
“Then I guess it’s lucky you were last, huh? …Wait. Who are those guys hiding there?”
Marc spotted several men crouching awkwardly behind a post, their bodies bunched together like children.
“What are you doing there—”
“Shh! Quiet. Look over there.”
Marc and Siveron leaned around the post to peek outside.
“Huh?”
“It’s the Marquess.”
“What’s he doing here?”
There in the training ground stood Theodore with Marquess Blanche.
After five years apart, Theodore was grinning broadly as he spoke with the marquess. Known for his usual cold and stern demeanor, even Marquess Blanche looked softened, clapping Theodore on the shoulder with pride. From this distance, however, their words couldn’t be heard.
“That’s why you’re all hiding here?”
“When have you ever seen the Commander laugh like that?”
“Never. He always looks so stern.”
Indeed, Theodore was usually expressionless or frowning. Marc and Siveron nodded and joined the group, watching curiously.
Then—
“What?!”
Theodore’s shocked voice rang out.
“What did you just say?”
The knights behind the post all snapped their heads toward him.
“…Charlotte has left?”
