AOL 49

Isel tilted her chin all the way back and gazed at the glass orbs dangling across the sky.

For the festival, strings had been tied between the streetlamps of the capital, decorated with countless hanging spheres. Whenever the wind blew, the orbs clinked softly against one another, producing crystal-clear chimes. By nightfall, they would probably drink in the moonlight and become stars themselves.

As she stared at them for a long while, a whisper slipped into her ear.

“Isel, your hood is coming off.”

It was Rahan. He carefully adjusted her hood so it would not slip away. Thanks to his meticulous touch, her small face disappeared once more beneath the dark shadow.

“Ah… thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

Rahan smiled gently as he looked down at her.

The two of them were currently out in the city to enjoy the Founding Festival.

Though she had lived in the capital her entire life, Isel had never once properly enjoyed a festival. So when Rahan suggested they go together, she had nodded eagerly without hesitation.

And so they arrived at the bustling central district, far livelier than even the busiest market day.

Pilgrims who had traveled long distances just to celebrate the annual Founding Festival could be seen everywhere.

The continent’s pilgrimage route began in the southern Rosca Empire and curved leisurely upward toward Carpen, the capital of the Enix Papal State.

Part of the reason was that the Enix faith had originated in the Ekar Empire, but more importantly, Arpen Lake—where the Goddess had first appeared to the world—was located here in Carpen.

The Founding Festival lasted for an entire week, and she had once learned that on the final day, a sacred rite would be performed at Arpen Lake itself.

Participating in that ceremony was the pilgrims’ greatest aspiration.

The travelers were not only pilgrims. Merchants from foreign lands beyond the sea had also come, displaying exotic wares upon their stalls to attract customers.

Isel observed the merchants’ goods with eyes full of curiosity.

The sweet and savory scent of snacks drifting through every alleyway, the noisy crowds overflowing with life—she loved all of it.

Several excited children ran between Rahan and Isel, each clutching candy treats in their hands.

One child suddenly burst from an alley and nearly collided with Isel.

She tried to dodge him and almost lost her balance, but before she could even process it, Rahan’s sturdy arm had already wrapped around her waist to steady her.

“There are far too many people.”

His gaze followed the child who had bumped into Isel, strangely cold.

Isel unconsciously looked at him before asking,

“Is this your first Founding Festival as well, Your Grace?”

Rahan blinked slightly at her question.

After silently searching through his memories, he answered,

“…Now that I think about it, yes.”

“Then we’re the same.”

Isel smiled brightly.

Being able to share a first experience with someone precious was a joyful thing.

Rahan looked down at her with an unreadable expression before suddenly taking her hand.

His large hand slipped naturally into hers, fingers intertwining with ease.

Feeling the firmness of his fingers laced between her own, Isel’s face flushed red.

Hand in hand, the two walked down the street for some time.

Then, upon reaching a certain alleyway, Isel let out a small sound.

As they neared the central plaza, Holy Knights could be seen stationed everywhere at measured intervals.

Holding long spears and white shields, they carefully surveyed their surroundings, watching for anyone who might disrupt the Pope’s upcoming procession.

Isel’s heart instantly tightened with anxiety.

When she slowed to a stop, Rahan called to her with concern.

“Isel? Are you alright?”

“…Yes. It’s just…”

Seeing that she struggled to answer, Rahan quickly traced the direction of her gaze.

Upon spotting the Holy Knights, he clicked his tongue softly and leaned close to whisper,

“Isel, let’s go this way.”

Without understanding why, Isel followed as he led her away.

Rahan entered a narrow alley hidden between two buildings. The winding path felt like some sort of shortcut.

When they finally emerged from the cramped alley, Isel blinked in surprise.

Unlike the central streets packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people, this road was so quiet it felt emptier than usual.

“Isel, shall we stop by the atelier after so long?”

The color visibly returned to Isel’s face, but then she suddenly lowered her head as though remembering something.

“But…”

“All the knights are focused on escorting His Holiness and the clergy today, so there is nothing to worry about.”

Isel’s eyes widened.

She had never once spoken to Rahan about the decree, nor had he ever mentioned it to her.

Could it be that the Grand Duke knew about the decree as well?

But there was not the slightest clue to be found on the face of the man smiling gently at her.

After agonizing over whether she should ask, Isel lowered her head deeply.

She simply could not bring herself to say it aloud.

The two walked slowly down the empty road.

From both near and far came the lively sound of musicians performing and crowds cheering.

Listening to the swelling noise, Isel suddenly turned her head and asked,

“But Your Grace, shouldn’t you be working with the knight order today?”

The Founding Festival was attended by nobles and clergy from every nation.

Surely an imperial knight would be unbearably busy at a time like this…

Remembering how her father and brother had left the estate before dawn, Isel spoke carefully.

“…”

“…Your Grace?”

Rahan smiled quietly for a moment before abruptly changing the subject.

“Is there anywhere else you would like to visit besides the atelier?”

“No, that’s not what I…”

Trailing off briefly, Isel blinked before asking cautiously,

“Do you perhaps have duties to attend to, but you’re here because of me?”

Rahan hesitated.

Truthfully, today was precisely the day the Special Knight Order—who normally spent their days training without much else to do—was busiest.

Their duty was to protect the distinguished guests arriving from every nation.

Realizing immediately that his silence meant confirmation, Isel lightly grasped the edge of his clothes.

“I’m truly grateful that you think of me this much, but I’m alright. I think you should do what you need to do, Your Grace. Thanks to you, I’ve already had more than enough fun today.”

Rahan quietly looked down at the hand clutching his clothes.

Perhaps it was his own excessive selfishness that made him wish she would be greedier.

If he had known it would be like this, he should have rejected the position of commander of the Special Knight Order the moment it was offered.

If he had done that, he could have monopolized her freely without making Isel worry like this.

While seriously considering the idea of submitting his resignation to the Emperor and becoming unemployed, Rahan let out a shallow sigh.

“…I.”

“Yes?”

Isel looked up at him with wide eyes.

Rahan gently narrowed his eyes and caressed her cheek.

“I am not alright.”

Isel’s eyelashes fluttered slowly.

Watching the shadows fall across her eyes, Rahan added,

“But Sir Leo is probably struggling alone, so after I escort you to the atelier, I’ll briefly stop by the knight order.”

At his answer, Isel smiled brightly and nodded.

Her plump lips curved upward. Perhaps because she had eaten candy earlier, they glistened more sweetly than usual.

The memory of Isel’s sweet breath tickling the tip of his nose naturally resurfaced in his mind.

Rahan clenched his fist tightly and barely suppressed the thirst scraping down his throat.

For now, this alone was enough.

Just being able to remain beside Isel and watch her shine brilliantly was enough to satisfy him.

As if casting a spell upon himself, Rahan repeated those words over and over in his mind.

He could feel the vivid desire sinking slowly into his depths laughing mockingly at him.

Pope Riante was in the middle of dressing for the Founding Festival ceremony.

The garments were so elaborate and ornate that she could not properly wear them without the help of several attendants.

Putting them on alone took well over an hour.

Originally, ceremonial robes were only slightly more extravagant than everyday attire—not something this cumbersome.

However, all previous Popes had been men, so after Riante ascended to the papacy, entirely new ceremonial garments had to be commissioned.

The tailors responsible for the Pope’s robes seemed to have intentionally created outrageously lavish designs.

The clothes were so brilliantly white that it felt frightening to even sit down while wearing them. White had long symbolized holiness, obedience, protection, and healing—the very color of the Enix faith itself.

One could tell which religion a priest belonged to simply from the color of their robes.

White symbolized the Church of Enix, black symbolized the Church of Karmus, and deep crimson represented the Church of Ashilhis, god of fate and karma.

There were so many colors that were practical for daily life—why did it have to be this one…?

Riante frowned as she lifted the long, flowing sleeves that draped far past her hands.

At the cuffs, countless Hilurian leaves—connected to the myths of Goddess Enix—had been intricately embroidered.

The priests standing nearby spared no praise for her beauty, but to her, it was merely an unbearably inconvenient outfit.

After finally fastening the belts around her waist, head, and neck, Riante lifted her gaze and called out.

“High Priest.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“How goes the investigation into the sculptor known as El?”

“Ah, well…”

Seeing High Priest Lucius trail off awkwardly, Riante let out a faint scoff.

“So they were all nothing more than useless reports from fools blinded by money.”

At her sharp tone, Lucius bowed deeply.

“My apologies, Your Holiness.”

“This is hardly something for you to apologize for. I knew it would turn out this way.”

“…Your Holiness.”

Riante rubbed at her temple, irritated by the gold bands securing her hair, before arching a brow.

Lucius opened and closed his mouth several times, seemingly unsure how to phrase his thoughts.

Riante’s gaze settled upon his troubled expression.

His conflicted emotions were plainly visible.

“You look as though you cannot understand why I ordered such a decree.”

“Y-Your Holiness?”

Caught completely off guard, Lucius even stammered.

“Are you wondering why I branded the sculptor a fraud despite the power within the statue being genuine?”

“……”

Lucius lowered his head deeply without replying.

The papal decree currently plastered throughout the capital was, in truth, a lie.

When Pope Riante first confirmed the divine power contained within the sculpture, she had remained speechless for a long time. Lucius had witnessed that reaction firsthand, and thus could not understand why she had issued a false decree afterward.

It was a direct violation of the church doctrine stating that a priest’s eyes must see only truth and a priest’s mouth must speak only truth.

As Lucius remained silent, Riante continued.

“That is simply the nature of human beings. More than good and joyful things, people are pitiful creatures drawn toward ugliness and darkness.”

The sculptor had hidden himself so thoroughly that not even secret investigations uncovered a trace of him.

Someone so intent on concealing their identity would never reveal themselves merely because of a decree posted at the temple.

Accusing him of fraud and issuing a bounty for his capture was a far easier method.

After falling silent for a moment in thought, Riante spoke again.

“In any case, there is no need to worry so much.”

“Yes?”

“Soon… we will have him in our hands.”

The way Riante spoke of a person as though they were merely an object caused Lucius to stiffen.

Riante drifted into memory.

Immediately after seeing the sculpture, she had hurried back to the temple and locked herself inside the prayer chamber.

Beyond her closed eyelids, the shadow of Goddess Enix seemed to flicker in and out of existence.

The goddess, who always whispered softly to her with warmth, had said nothing that day.

A white silhouette shimmered faintly, warm hands touching her shoulders before vanishing again and again.

Strangely, despite neither seeing nor hearing clearly, Riante felt certain the goddess had been crying.

“Your Holiness?”

Riante, who had been staring into the distance, suddenly frowned slightly.

Something seemed to have disturbed her senses.

“High Priest.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“Are there any Holy Knights stationed in front of that atelier right now?”

“No. Everyone is focused on the festival escort duties…”

At Lucius’s answer, Riante narrowed her eyes.

“I have a bad feeling.”

“Pardon?”

Riante possessed remarkably sharp instincts, and she never ignored them.

In a calm voice, she ordered Lucius,

“Send one priest and two Holy Knights to the atelier and have them investigate.”