Chapter 24
----------------------------------------------------------------- Translator: Diva Chapter: 24 Chapter Title: Arrival at Mordawin Monastery -----------------------------------------------------------------
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As the young crown prince led his retinue into the vast grounds of Mordawin Monastery, hundreds of citizens scattered flower petals along the roadside.
Gares raised one hand in response to the welcome. The citizens' cheers grew even louder. It was a ritual that had grown tiresome from days of repetition, yet it never failed to thrill him. He held his chin high and urged his horse forward with proud vigor.
Once they passed through the crowded city streets teeming with people, a wide courtyard and grand temple came into view. He halted the knights in front of what appeared to be the prayer hall.
"You must be weary from the long journey."
Moments later, a man in pristine white monastic robes stepped forward.
Gares eyed him closely from horseback. The man had a sharply pointed face like an arrowhead and pale silver hair tinged with blue.
He quickly realized this young monk was no ordinary human. His complexion was eerily pale, and the tips of his ears tapered to fine points. Likely a half-elf or quarter-elf.
It was hardly unusual. In the northeastern regions of the old Oshiria Kingdom, mixed-blood descendants of elves and dwarves were common enough.
Gares suppressed his instinctive disgust toward those of other races and addressed him with dignified authority.
"Are you the abbot of this monastery?"
"Yes, Your Highness Crown Prince. I am Basilis, tasked with managing this monastery."
The man offered a gentle smile.
"We sincerely welcome you to Mordawin."
"This land is where my ancestor, Emperor Darian the Great, won his first victory against the northern foes and received the divine mandate to unify the ten kingdoms. I, too, am truly glad to be here."
Gares dismounted with imperial arrogance in his tone.
"In keeping with imperial tradition, I seek blessings in the names of the saints. Pray that divine grace may shine upon me and my sister."
"It will be my honor."
The abbot replied courteously, then added hesitantly.
"For now, why not retire to my residence to rest? We've prepared a grand banquet several days in advance to serve Your Highness."
He hesitated.
By custom, they were to stay in the pilgrims' dormitory. Lodging at the abbot's home could be seen as political favoritism.
Gares glanced back at Barkas, who shadowed him like a ghost. He had half his face shrouded in a heavy hood, avoiding the crowd's eyes.
After thoughtfully surveying the monastery, Barkas finally nodded.
"As Your Highness wishes."
"Very well. We'll stay at the abbot's residence tonight."
With his permission granted, the waiting servants descended the stairs in perfect order to attend the guests. Gares handed over his reins and instructed Barkas.
"Look after Aila well. It's her first time this far from home, so everything must feel strange and uncomfortable."
Barkas, stroking his own horse, gave a slight nod.
Gares frowned faintly. If only he showed as much care to my sister as he does his mount.
As he grumbled and followed the monks, a lavish carriage at the edge of the clearing caught his eye.
He scowled at the window draped in thick curtains, furrowing his brow. Was she finally playing it safe, or had she at last grasped her place? Talia Roem Guirta had holed up inside that carriage the entire journey, never showing her face. All his threats of snapping her slender neck at the slightest mischief were starting to feel wasted.
'If only she'd stay quiet like this...'
But Talia Roem Guirta wasn't the type. She'd tagged along from the start with her filthy schemes. Who knew when or where she'd stir up trouble.
Gares glared holes into the carriage and snarled at Barkas.
"And tell that wench in no uncertain terms: she better stay out of my sight like a dead mouse, just as she has been."
Barkas's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, displeased by his open hostility toward his half-sister. Come to think of it, he'd unusually nagged him to watch his words for the sake of his reputation.
Gares snorted derisively for all to see and turned on his heel. As if anyone in the empire didn't know the crown prince wanted to tear his father's bastard to shreds.
Chin held high, he followed the priests to the grand mansion behind the main hall.
The abbot's residence was as opulent as the detached palaces in the imperial grounds. At least for tonight, he could expect comfort, and a satisfied smile crept onto his face. He stepped into the majestic hall behind the monks.
The abbot led him to the most lavish room in the house.
Gares surveyed the spacious bedroom appraisingly. It seemed to be the abbot's usual quarters, with murals of the Holy Wars adorning the walls and prayer books and theological tomes on the desk.
Not quite to his taste, but otherwise passable. He flung off his horse-scented cloak and ordered the attendants by the door.
"I want to bathe first. Fill a tub big enough for me to stretch out in with clean water."
As the servants scattered, he lounged in a chair by the window and nodded toward his squires. At the silent command, the two boys swiftly began removing his armor.
Leaving them to it, Gares picked up a goblet from the shelf. A quick-witted servant promptly filled it. He leaned back and savored a sip of the chilled wine. The rich liquid slid down his throat, filling his mouth with its bold aroma.
Relishing the intense flavor on his tongue, he let out a languid sigh. The banquet promised to be worthwhile. The monastery's wine suited even his palate, jaded by exotic spirits.
'Holy land business must pay handsomely.'
Gazing out the window at the monastery's expansive grounds, he smirked. High priests often rivaled nobles in wealth. This abbot surely lived in luxury befitting a grand noble.
Freed from his heavy armor, Gares shed his sweat-soaked clothes and plunged into the bathwater the monks had prepared. Servants immediately scrubbed him gently with soft brushes. He leaned his head against the tub's edge and sipped the remaining wine.
How long he lounged there, he couldn't say, but the half-day's riding had left him exhausted, and now a spark of vitality returned to his weary body. He stepped out, donned the light summer eveningwear the servants had laid out, and threw on a minimally adorned velvet robe. Then, guided by the monks, he left the room.
"Dinner is prepared in the hall directly below."
A monk holding a lantern spoke softly as they descended the marble stairs carpeted in plush rugs.
Gares merely nodded indifferently. A sovereign must speak sparingly. He knew intimately how much silence could accomplish—precisely because he kept such a paragon of it at his side.
Spotting Barkas standing tall at the hall entrance as if awaiting him, Gares furrowed his brow.
Whenever he saw the man, an odd hostility welled up unbidden. Even though Barkas had never once defied him. Was it his singular presence? Or his impenetrable reserve?
He'd watched him since childhood, yet he always seemed a stranger to beware. It made him uneasy all the more.
Could he truly entrust half his soul to this man?
"Where's Aila?"
"Her Highness is resting in the priestesses' dormitory. She says she's too tired to attend the banquet."
"After days of camping, no wonder she's worn out."
"I've prepared a restorative tonic, so there's no need for concern."
Gares frowned at the dry response. He knew Barkas showed at least some gentleness toward his sister.
Despite being in his prime, Barkas Raedgo Sheerkhan treated women like fragile things to protect. He was ruthless toward any who approached him—enough to make even Gares shiver watching. At least he stayed by Aila's side; that was something to be grateful for.
Yet Gares couldn't abide his lukewarm demeanor. To possess the empire's greatest treasure and show not a speck of gratitude—such arrogance.
He snapped in a sharp tone.
"Aila is your fiancée. Shouldn't you show her a little more care?"