chapter 21:The Journey
The Hilderson clan is the bloodline that rules the Osnover Kingdom.
The clan's origin is the ducal house of Dithmarschen. This family, which governs the northernmost region of the Osnover Kingdom, ended a civil war several years ago to establish a new dynasty and has since formed marriage ties with the nation's major noble families.
"A wedding?"
Roberta asked. She was tearing off a piece of bread.
At noon in the Lord's manor, she was having a meal with Ulrich. Since her appointment as head priest, the two had shared a meal at least once a day, almost every day.
It was unavoidable, as they lived in the same space. Being a guest in another's home, she couldn't very well ask for separate meal times. Because the temple had been burned to the ground due to the deeds of her predecessors and the civil war, she was living in the Lord's manor. Whenever the Lord or his vassals had a meal or tea, she would join them.
Humans truly are creatures of adaptation. The fact that she was living in the same space as the peculiar Lord had been endlessly awkward, but after more than a year, it had come to feel comfortable.
"It seems there's to be a royal wedding for the Crown Princess."
A royal wedding, Roberta thought, and asked while tearing her white bread.
"A royal wedding? Who is the groom?"
"The eldest son of Marquis Culle. I suppose since it hasn't been long since the civil war ended, they judged it more stable to welcome a son-in-law from within the country rather than from without."
He would likely inherit the granary region in the kingdom's southwest, Ulrich added.
"Oh... That's a sound idea."
The Osnover Kingdom had endured a civil war for thirty-two years. That long, drawn-out war had ended a mere five years ago, so as Ulrich said, it was a time to prioritize stability.
"Then you'll have to send a gift, Lord. Her Highness the Crown Princess is, from your perspective, your granddaughter, is she not?"
"I suppose so. But the gift isn't the issue right now."
"Pardon?"
"Richard sent me an invitation, asking me to attend."
Richard. The name of the King of Osnover.
And he was also Ulrich's adopted son. For the one who had ended the civil war was the very young man—no, the Elder—sitting before Roberta.
Ulrich had brought the civil war to an end, but he had not worn the crown. To the faction that brought him the crown, he had sent a man of the clan in his stead. That man was Ulrich's adopted son, and his name was Richard.
Roberta dipped a piece of bread into her soup, put it in her mouth, and thought.
'I heard he didn't even attend the coronation.'
Hadn't the old priest she met on her way to her post said as much? That on the day his adopted son ascended the throne, the Lord of Dithmarschen had not stepped outside his domain.
Would such a man leave his domain for his granddaughter's wedding? It would be more believable if he entered the Ice Peninsula on the pretext of preparing a gift.
"You won't be attending, will you? This time either?"
"No. I intend to attend this time."
Instead of asking a question, Roberta tilted her head.
"It seems there's a troublesome matter."
A troublesome matter?
"He didn't state it clearly in the letter, so I don't know for sure. That boy, Richard, doesn't seem to fully grasp the situation himself. However, he must have judged from experience that it was beyond his ability to resolve."
"And that's why he invited you, Lord?"
"Correct."
A problem that required the domain-bound Lord to act personally? A problem that not just anyone, but the King of a nation, couldn't resolve on his own? Roberta narrowed her eyes. This was no ordinary matter.
"The reason you're telling me this is..."
Was he giving her a heads-up because he would be away? Roberta was the head priest. The authority she held could influence the domain as much as the Lord's. Of course, it wasn't authority she could actually exercise, but he could at least be telling her to manage things well in his absence.
But his answer was slow in coming. As she dipped a piece of bread into her soup, a sense of unease crept up inside her, and she turned her head to look at Ulrich. He held a teacup of Songhwacha, as always, and quietly met her gaze.
"...Do you wish for me to accompany you?"
Surely not.
"Yes, Roberta. I would like you to come with me."
"Are you being serious?"
she asked with an awkward smile.
When was the last time she had left the domain with Ulrich? It was when they headed to the Ice Peninsula with the visitor from Carbonihar, just a few months ago.
Looking back, it had been an uncharacteristic act. She had been swayed by emotion and taken an absurd risk. She had no regrets; in fact, it had been a rewarding experience.
The journey to attend a royal wedding was practically a leisurely stroll compared to the expedition on the Ice Peninsula. She had spent a full year mending the parish ruined by her predecessors, and she had also completed major rites like the Infant Sacrament. Leaving her post for a short while would not be a problem.
But was there really a need for her to attend?
Her duty as a Priestess was more important than her interest in the Lord.
"My apologies, but—"
Just as she was about to refuse, the butler Bernhardt Meyer, who had been attending the Lord at his side, handed her a neatly folded letter. It was a missive written on paper that was pure white, would not tear easily even if wet, and seemed far too precious to be used for a mere letter.
...
Roberta read the contents and froze, her mouth agape.
"It's permission from His Holiness to leave your post for a time."
She blinked several times, checking to see if she was imagining things, but she had no choice but to acknowledge that the seal stamped on the paper was indeed the Pope's.
It was an order. A direct order from the Pope, at that, and it was completely different from what Ulrich had said. It wasn't permission to leave her post for a time, but an order to comply with all requests from Ulrich, the Lord of Dithmarschen.
How could the Pope place a Priestess of the Church, a Priestess who managed an entire parish, under the command of a secular lord? And how had he obtained such an order?
"H-how did His Holiness..."
Instead of answering, Ulrich gave a faint smile.
Suddenly, Roberta recalled that he often wrote letters. In the early morning, he often wrote letters because he did not need much sleep. Alonso had said it too, that the Lord sent letters more frequently than she did. Among those letters, there must have been some sent to the Pope.
In the first place, the one who had appointed her head priest was the Pope. The recommendation had come from Alonso, the diocesan head of the Nua Grand Temple, but the approval had been given by the Pope himself. The Dithmarschen parish itself was a domain under the Pope's direct administration. It was only natural that he would have contact with Ulrich.
"What other pasts do you have?"
She was dumbfounded, yet at the same time, she could feel herself beginning to accept it. Right, it's better than a dragon. At least the Pope is human. The thought made her feel rather ridiculous.
Perhaps she had been too influenced by living so closely with him for over a year. She let out a hollow laugh of resignation, rationalizing in a way her past self never would have.
"...We aren't leaving right away, are we?"
"We depart tomorrow morning. If you have anything to take care of, finish it today."
She let out a small sigh and picked up the piece of bread she had torn off. A journey required a full stomach. After stuffing the food into her mouth, she soon rose from her seat.
"Are you leaving?"
Bernhardt asked, just after Roberta left the dining hall.
The butler, who had stood silently by his side throughout the lunch, spoke once he and Ulrich were alone. Ulrich took a sip of his tea before answering.
"Well. I haven't decided yet."
To say he hadn't decided was not the same as saying he wouldn't leave. The words implied he was considering a departure, and knowing this, Bernhardt trembled. Ulrich had never spoken to him like this before.
He knew it couldn't last forever. Everyone who served the Lord knew he would one day leave. But it was an ending Bernhardt had prayed and prayed he would not have to face in his lifetime.
Ulrich would not return. Bernhardt wanted to deny it, but he had served his Lord for too long. By not speaking of parting, Ulrich was merely leaving behind a sliver of hope that he might come back.
Bernhardt opened his mouth to say something, but he hesitated and closed it again. Even if he tried to persuade him, could he break his will? And should he try to bind a man who had already listened to their pleas and stayed with them for so long?
"But preparations must be made."
Ulrich set down his teacup and looked up at Bernhardt.
"Bernhardt, descendant of Hohenlohe. If I do not return, you are the Lord of this place. Then, you will not be Bernhardt of Meyer, but Bernhardt of Dithmarschen."
"Can I... take your place?"
His voice trembled. It was faint, as if he were frightened or crushed by the weight of the words. It was only natural. For Bernhardt knew his Lord's past far more deeply than Priestess Roberta did.
For hundreds of years since their inception, the Hilderson clan, including the Meyer family, had served one man, piecing together his identity from the words he let slip.
Thus, the clan came close to the truth that their founder was a being so wondrous he could destroy even the Pantheon. To live under the protection of such a being stirred indescribable emotions. But now, they had to send him away and take his place.
"Do not worry."
Ulrich smiled as if he understood Bernhardt's feelings. It was a benevolent smile. It was also a faint smile that only a very few could notice.
Some might say their Lord is a man without emotion, but that is the talk of fools who have only seen a fragment of him. The passage of time has simply dulled his reactions, making all experiences familiar.
Hasn't even Priestess Roberta, after spending more time with him, begun to catch glimpses of his emotions? The more one knew him, the clearer his emotions became, and the softer he was. He was especially soft with children. And to him, all humans must seem like children.
"It will be overwhelming at first, but you will soon be fine. I have taught you all the qualifications needed for this position. Bernhardt, you are more suited for this role than anyone."
"I would rather I were an inadequate man."
"Then someone else would be in your place."
Bernhardt lowered his head for a moment, then looked to the side. The boy, Fritz, stood there, not knowing where to look. Turmoil had taken hold of his thoughts.
He was supposed to serve the Lord in Bernhardt's place soon, but now the Lord was leaving. Just like Bernhardt, the boy's life had taught him nothing but to follow his Lord.
Bernhardt had at least spent decades by the Lord's side, but he felt it was a pity that Fritz had experienced nothing.
So he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and said.
"If you are leaving, won't you take this child with you?"
Ulrich looked at Fritz. The boy trembled when his eyes met the Lord's. It was from fear. But not because he was afraid of his Lord. It was the look of a young animal afraid of being abandoned.
"This reminds me of the old days. Hilde was like that too."
Ulrich nodded.
"
The next day. The party left the city of Freiche.
Ulrich took Roberta and Fritz as his companions, and the three of them rode their horses toward the warm south. But as they crossed the hills, Ulrich reined in his horse and stopped to look at Freiche.
Three hundred and several tens of years ago, he had visited that place with a young Lord he had befriended. Memory insisted that all around was covered in snow, piled higher than a man's head. Moreover, the snow from the previous year remained, unmelted even in summer.
He had only planned to stay for a short while—a few days or a few weeks at most. But fate led a young girl to him, and her name was Hilde.
That was when Ulrich of Dithmarschen made his name in history. Ulrich emerged from his memories and looked at the Freiche of today. The summer sun beat down, and not a trace of last year's snow remained.
On the other hand, Ulrich was still Ulrich of Dithmarschen, and his departure from Freiche was just as it had been when he first visited.
.......
He smiled and gave a slight nod toward someone. Then he spurred his horse and rode down the hill. He could no longer see Freiche, and Freiche could no longer see him.
.......:
He smiled and gave a slight nod toward someone. Then he spurred his horse and rode down the hill. He could no longer see Freiche and Freiche could no longer see him
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