CHAPTER 30………………………………………………………
The title of the Rize Ducal House was undeniably impressive.
Unlike the other imperial citizens waiting for treatment, she could meet the priest without waiting at all.
It was her first time at the temple, so everything felt strange and fascinating.
The faintly echoing hymns, the portraits of past popes hung in a row—everything was novel.
The subtle scent of herbs alone was enough to calm the mind.
“Your Highness.”
Turning toward the voice in the reception room, she saw the man from the temple last night.
A delicate-looking man with long, pale purple hair reminiscent of hydrangeas.
She felt nervous, but recognizing him was only like seeing her late mother’s face again, so it was bearable.
“Vernis.”
How could the priest possibly know her mother’s name?
She hadn’t even been told about her mother’s death, making it all the more puzzling. The last memory of her mother was just a buried grave, with no name—no mention of Vernis Devin.
And, forcibly restrained, the memory of her father holding back tears.
“Have you been waiting long? I’m Tamitarte.”
“April Hill Rize.”
As she introduced herself politely, he lightly bowed and extended his hand.
Even if this priest knew about her deceased mother, it wasn’t something she could directly ask about.
“I didn’t expect Your Highness to come to the temple yourself. If there’s an injury, you could have just called a priest.”
Apparently, the mention of wanting an ointment for a torn wound made him think she herself was injured.
“I heard about a torn wound. If it’s not too much trouble, I could take a look for you.”
“No, I wasn’t hurt.”
“Then…?”
“An acquaintance was injured, and I want to give them an ointment as a gift.”
“I see.”
Since he was a knight as well, the ointment could serve as a thoughtful gift not just for oral injuries, but for any wounds in daily life.
“I’m sorry for troubling you when you’re already busy.”
“Not at all.”
His lips curved smoothly, but his eyes remained unsmiling. Just from his gaze, it seemed to say: Why bother calling me if you already knew?
When she asked Patrick about this priest, Tamitarte, she’d only heard one thing: he was one of the few with significant sacred power in the capital’s main temple.
Also, the only one in the capital with such sacred power.
“By the way, how is the Duke feeling?”
She hadn’t expected such a question as mere politeness. When she didn’t respond, he glanced at her oddly.
“You collapsed the day before the engagement, didn’t you?”
She didn’t know about that. Even after entering the Ducal House, she had never heard of it.
If she asked whether he was unwell, the steward’s claim that there was nothing wrong would clearly have been a lie.
“You’d feel better if a priest treated you.”
From both the steward’s words and Tamitarte’s, two things were clear: the Duke was unwell somewhere, and he didn’t want anyone to know.
“I am fine.”
“Are you really fine? You always buy sedatives from the Ducal House.”
“Seems the priest is quite interested in my father.”
“Rather than interest in the Duke, he is concerned with those showing signs of illness.”
He let out a light chuckle.
Watching him retrieve the ointment from the glass cabinet in the reception room, he cautiously asked:
“Your Highness, are you well after your injury?”
Even glancing sideways, his questioning eyes made her flinch.
There was no reason to feel uncomfortable, yet his gaze was subtly unsettling.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied hesitantly.
“I heard it was quite a serious accident, but seeing you fully recovered, the priest’s sacred power must have been impressive.”
There was a probing tone to his words.
No—he was openly probing, trying to find out who had treated her.
Since speaking recklessly could cause trouble, it was better to remain silent for now.
“As those born with sacred power become rarer, you tend to want such talents nearby.”
He handed her the ointment she had requested.
“Do you know the name of the priest who treated Your Highness?”
As Tamitarte had said, the number of people with sacred power was decreasing.
If someone with greater power returned to the temple, it wouldn’t benefit the priests there.
In the empire, only Tamitarte still possessed significant sacred power.
“…Why do you ask this suddenly?”
“I saw the news about the accident myself, and as far as I know, no priest could treat such a serious injury at once.”
“…….”
“Just curiosity.”
The woman with the delicate features gave a soft smile, as if easing suspicion—but it only made her seem more suspicious.
Even now, she wanted to ask outright: How do you know my mother’s name?
“…How much sacred power do you possess, priest?”
Tamitarte, while valued by Rojian and frequenting the imperial palace as if it were his own, did not possess particularly strong sacred power.
By absolute measure, his sacred power was minor, though relative to others, it was enough to warrant his position.
No other priests at the temple had sacred power besides Tamitarte.
Her question might have sounded like mockery of his limited ability, slightly breaking his gentle smile.
“Do you have enough sacred power to reset twisted bones?”
“……”
“Enough to reattach severed tendons?”
“That question implies that the one who treated Your Highness must have such power.”
Correct. She had been treated by someone with that level of power.
“Unfortunately, I do not possess such power, but I know someone who does.”
“Who?”
“You didn’t answer my question, did you?”
So, he wasn’t going to say. She clicked her tongue lightly and glanced at him.
He showed no inferiority or arrogance regarding his limited sacred power. Calmly, he continued:
“The person I know has helped many with that power.”
A mask-like smile, but somehow it seemed off.
“Then… is that person dead?”
“No.”
His definite answer made her pause.
If such a remarkable priest wasn’t dead, he must still be in the temple?
Opening her eyes wide like listening to a fable from her grandmother, Tamitarte continued:
“He has left. From the temple.”
Had he retired? Could that even be possible?
“From the temple.”
Though it sounded vague, Tamitarte said no more.
“He has left, from the temple.”
It didn’t sound like he’d gone to serve the empire elsewhere.
“Then the one who treated me might have been that person.”
Tamitarte only responded briefly: “Perhaps.”
Even if her father had contact with the temple, what could her mother possibly have to do with it? Questions floated endlessly in her mind.
Asking Alicia wouldn’t yield an answer either.
Clicking her tongue, the carriage stopped in front of the Rize Ducal House gates.
“Who’s there?”
“April Hill Rize. I wish to meet Sir Betrice.”
“Sir Betrice?”
The gatekeeper flinched. There were several Sir Betrices here, so it was hard to tell who she meant.
Indeed, there were three: Count Betrice, the eldest daughter Adonis Betrice, and the youngest son Adolf Betrice.
Apparently, the gatekeeper hadn’t realized she meant Adonis. She smiled up at him.
“I’ve come to see Sir Adonis.”
“Ah… yes.”
Finally, the tightly closed gates opened, and the carriage rolled inside.
One of the gatekeepers had already gone in to announce her, so someone would come out.
The carriage stopped in the courtyard, and she carefully stepped out.
“Princess Rize?”
