As the young Prince led his retinue into the vast manor of Mordawin Abbey, hundreds of citizens scattered petals along the roadside.
Gareth raised a hand in response to the welcome. The cheers of the citizens became even louder. It was something he had been repeating for days, but it was a ritual that he never got tired of. He raised his chin higher and rode triumphantly
As we passed through the crowded city, we found a large courtyard and a magnificent temple. He stopped the Knights in front of what appeared to be a prayer garden.
"You have come a long way and have had a lot of trouble."
After a while, a man in a white robe stepped in front of him.
Gareth sat on his horse and studied him carefully. He had a face as pointed as an arrowhead and pale silver hair with a tinge of blue.
He soon realized that the young friar was not human. It was strangely pale, and the tips of its ears were pointed. Maybe a half-elf or a quarter-elf.
It was not unusual. In the northeastern part of the old Osyrian Kingdom, it was not difficult to find different races with elven or dwarven blood.
Gareth suppressed his instinctive dislike for a species different from his own and asked the question in a dignified tone.
"Are you the abbot here?"
"Yes, Your Highness, the Crown Prince. My name is Vasilis, and I am entrusted with the management of this monastery."
The man had a gentle smile on his lips.
"Welcome to Mordawin."
"This land is the place where my ancestor, Emperor Darian the Great, won his first victory over the North, and it is the sacred place where his mission to unify the nations was revealed. I'm also truly happy to be here."
Gareth stepped down from his horse and spoke in the arrogant tone characteristic of the royal family.
"By the imperial tradition, I wish to be blessed in the name of the saints, so may God bless me and my sister in the future."
"I will gladly accept you."
The abbot replied politely and added cautiously.
"First of all, why don't you go to my house today and get some rest? We have prepared a grand dinner for His Highness a few days in advance."
He hesitated for a moment.
Originally, they were supposed to stay in lodgings for pilgrims. Staying at the abbot's house could be seen as a political favor.
Gareth glanced back at Barcas, who stood behind him like a shadow. He didn't want to attract people's attention, so he covered his face halfway with a loose hood.
Barcas, who had been looking around the monastery carefully, nodded after a long time.
"Do as Your Highness pleases."
"Yes. Then I'll stay at the abbot's residence tonight."
When his permission was granted, the waiting servants rushed down the stairs to serve the guests. Gareth handed them the reins and urged Barcas.
"You should take care of Ayla, it's the first time she's been this far, so everything will be strange and uncomfortable."
Barcas patted his words and nodded lightly.
Gareth made a slight impression. He wishes Barcas could show as much devotion to his sister as he does to his words.
As Gareth grumbled and followed the monks, a gorgeous carriage at the end of the clearing invaded his view.
He stared at the thickly curtained window of the carriage and wrinkled his brows. Whether she was just taking care of herself or just grasping her subject, Thalia Roem Gurta remained in place for the entire journey. If she made any nonsense, he was determined to twist the slender neck trunk.
'I wish you could keep quiet like this...'
Thalia Roem Gurta can't be like that. Isn't she a who followed him with dirty schemes in the first place? He didn't know when, where, or what kind of disturbance it would cause.
Gareth, staring at the carriage, shouted fiercely at Barcas.
"And tell that clearly. Live like a dead rat without being noticed by me like before."
Barkas's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't seem to like him, openly showing hostility toward his half-sister. Speaking of which, he was nagging her to pay attention to her words and actions, even if it was for the sake of her reputation.
Gareth snorted and turned around. Who among the imperial people does not know that the Crown Prince wants to tear apart his father's illegitimate daughter?
He raised his chin and followed the priests to the mansion at the back of the main hall.
The abbot's residence was as gorgeous as the outbuildings in the imperial palace. He thought that he would be able to spend at least tonight comfortably, and he smiled with satisfaction. He followed the monks into the grand hall.
The abbot led him to the most ornate room in the mansion.
Gareth looked around the spacious bedroom as if to make an assessment. As if it were used by the abbot, there were paintings depicting the temple all over the room, and prayer books and theological books were placed on the desk.
The decorations were not to his liking, but other than that, they were worth a passing grade. He casually threw off his horse-smelling cloak and waited at the door, giving instructions to the servants.
"I want to wash myself first. Bring me a bathtub big enough for me to stretch my feet on, filled with clean water."
As the servants dispersed, he sat down on a chair by the window and gestured with his chin to the servants who had followed him. Following the unspoken instructions, the two boys quickly began to peel off their armor.
Gareth left it to them and picked up the goblet from the shelf. A shrewd servant immediately filled the cup. He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of the chilled wine. The thick liquid flowed down his throat, and a strong aroma spread throughout his mouth.
Savoring the Intense taste on the tip of his tongue, he let out a lazy moan. He thought it would be good to look forward to the dinner party. The wine prepared at the monastery suited him quite well, even as he was accustomed to all kinds of rare liquors.
'It looks like the Holy Land is doing quite well.'
He looked out through the glass window into the monastery's vast manor and twisted his mouth. The high priests enjoyed as much wealth as the nobles. The abbot here must have led a life of luxury as much as the grand aristocracy.
Freed from his heavy armor, Gareth threw off his sweaty clothes and soaked himself in the bath water the monks had prepared. The servants immediately rubbed his body with soft brushes. He leaned against the wall of the bathtub and sipped the remaining wine.
He wondered how much he had been stretched out, but his body was a little energized by the half-day horseback riding. He walked out of the bathtub and dressed in the summer evening gown that the servants had prepared. He put on a velvet robe with minimal decoration and left the room following the monks' guidance.
"We have prepared a meal in the hall downstairs."
The monk with a taillight stood and spoke cautiously, descending the marble stairs on a soft carpet.
Gareth looked at his head with a grim face. The monarch had to talk as little as possible. He knew how much silence meant. It was because he had a man by his side who was like the embodiment of silence.
Gareth frowned when he spotted Barcas standing tall at the entrance to the hall, as if he had been waiting for him.
When Hareyh always saw him, a strange hostility suddenly raised its head. This was even though Barcas had never offended him. Is it because of this man's unique presence? Or is it because he rarely shows his insides?
Gareth has been watching him since he was a child, but he's always like a stranger who needs to be wary of. So he was even more anxious.
Is it really okay to leave her demigod to this man?
"What about Ayla?"
"Her Highness is resting in the dormitory building used by Priestesses. She said she was tired and wouldn't attend the dinner party."
"She's had to camp for days on end, so she's exhausted."
"We have prepared medicine to help her recover, so you don't have to worry too much."
Gareth frowned at the dry reply. He knew that this man was very gentle with his sister.
Despite being a man in his prime, Barcas Raedgo Sheerkhan took care of the women. He was so snide to the women who approached him that he shuddered as he watched. At the very least, it was a good thing to give Ayla a side.
But Gareth couldn't please his lukewarm attitude. He had taken the most precious treasure in the empire, and there was not even the slightest hint of gratitude for it.
He snapped back in a rather sharp tone.
"Ayla is your fiancée. Shouldn't you care more about her?"
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