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Chapter 34……………………………………………
The abbot’s office was located in the deepest part of Elan Monastery. If one went through the door hidden behind a bookshelf there, it led into a room with a large table and an exit that connected to a secret passage.
Several people were gathered around that table. Even though it was still daytime, no light reached the room, and a few lamps brightly illuminated the darkness. The only thing they had in common was that they wore similarly designed pure white robes.
“So, did the Grand Temple accept it?”
A notably young priest among them asked the man standing opposite. The man—distinguished in appearance, with dull blond hair streaked with gray and deep blue eyes—wore the most ornate clothing among them, a sign of his status.
“Yes. It is also Prince Valder’s request, and the temple cannot continue to keep its distance from the royal family forever.”
Brandon had served as the abbot of this vast monastery for many years. Those gathered here were his close aides within the monastery.
“A sacrifice to the heavens. I hear it will be held again at the Soleria Temple.”
“The king cannot afford to leave his reputation as it has been until now.”
As months passed since the queen’s death and the king’s self-imposed seclusion, public sentiment had split in two directions. Some criticized him for neglecting state affairs, while others were moved by the king’s devotion to his late queen.
There was no public that could resist a romantic love story. And the king himself had actively used that sentiment.
“What an unfortunate coincidence. The drought ending is good, but it has ruined our plans.”
The Third Prince had returned only two years prior. Although his faction was growing quickly, he was still far from being able to match the First Prince, who already had close ties with high-ranking nobles.
The balance of power began to shift only after the rain came—and after the appearance of a mysterious woman. The woman, who looked so ethereal she seemed like a divine envoy, could not even properly speak the language of the country, yet despite the desperate efforts of those supporting the First Prince, she chose the Third Prince, Theodore.
She was a figure symbolizing the end of the nation’s misfortune. Whether or not she was truly a divine envoy did not matter. Public sentiment followed her absolutely, and they supported the Third Prince who became her husband.
It would have been better if the Third Prince were merely a lucky fool. Unfortunately, the man was quite shrewd. Despite claims that he had been frail and sent away for treatment at age eight, he was unexpectedly healthy and perceptive.
“By the way, it’s in two weeks. They seem to be in quite a hurry. The schedule will be tight.”
The man standing to Brandon’s left added quickly.
“The royal army must also be in disarray.”
“It’s a bit suspicious to call it an opportunity, but…”
The man on the right continued seamlessly.
“Still, isn’t it a waste to let it pass?”
“…Is there still no sign of the First Prince?”
“That’s correct.”
“What will you do?”
Brandon’s gaze shifted slightly. The man who had been silent the entire time had no smile on his face unlike usual. He nodded and whispered:
“We proceed.”
After that, the discussion moved swiftly.
Even the two-week timeframe seemed tight for them, so instead of debating further, they quickly finalized plans and began leaving one by one to prepare.
The man also slowly left the room and stepped into the sunlight. Perhaps because it was late spring, flowers in the monastery garden were blooming proudly. As he crouched by the flowerbed and touched a petal, his mind raced.
An opportunity that had come so suddenly. This time, they had to succeed. The other side would not be unprepared either. Breaking the temple’s barrier would not be difficult, so the issue would be mobility.
He clicked his tongue softly while plucking a petal. If the First Prince had ascended the throne as planned, there would have been no need for such involvement—but what was done could not be undone.
More than anything, the current king was not someone who could be swayed. Hadn’t they already struggled to shake off his counter-efforts after trying to approach him again? So they would act more cautiously—but decisively.
Because there was something they absolutely had to obtain by any means.
“What are you doing there, Priest Rosion?”
At the voice calling him, Rosion quickly turned around. Seeing the gentle-faced man, he relaxed.
“I was just watching the flowers. Priest Fenley.”
The man with a warm, gentle smile—Fenley—was one of Abbot Brandon’s closest aides and someone respected by everyone in the monastery.
However, Rosion had always found him slightly unsettling. Unlike others whose thoughts were easy to read, Fenley’s inner mind was strangely impossible to grasp. Perhaps it was because of his deceptively simple appearance.
“Ah, it seems spring has fully bloomed in your heart as well, priest. The soft breeze and sunlight feel like divine teachings.”
And those overly poetic expressions, too.
Unable to hide his reluctant expression as he stood up, Rosion saw Fenley smiling calmly.
“Are you worried?”
He was referring to the earlier discussion. Rosion hesitated, then nodded. Fenley gently took his hand.
“Don’t worry too much. Everything will go well.”
“So, what are you trying to say, Duke Selick?”
A condescending voice dropped over the duke’s head. Despite the king’s cold gaze, the old man with white beard straightened his back.
“Is it not time to discuss your marriage, Your Majesty?”
Theodore let out a faint laugh. His gentle smile and calm, almost instructional tone fit together perfectly, like he was lecturing a child.
“It seems premature.”
“How can it be premature to discuss who will stand beside Your Majesty?”
“That remark is unbecoming of a duke. You know we cannot ignore public opinion.”
Unlike others, Duke Selick was one of the greatest supporters who helped the king ascend the throne. Perhaps because of that, the king treated him more leniently than other nobles.
“That is precisely why I raise the issue of public sentiment.”
“I agree that leaving public sentiment unattended is unwise. That is why we are holding the rite.”
“Shouldn’t that be a separate matter? Even the late Queen would not have wished for such a situation.”
She’s still alive, actually.
Instead of replying, Theodore shook his head.
“I appreciate your loyalty, but this too takes time, does it not? For now, I would like us to focus on the scheduled event.”
“…Understood. I will bring it up again later.”
After the meeting ended, along with discussions on various policies, Theodore returned to his quarters and sighed while removing his coat.
“Those vultures. It hasn’t even been three months since the funeral, and they’re already talking about marriage.”
“Three months is already quite a long wait.”
Mera said quietly beside Zephyr as she took the coat. The king’s green eyes turned toward his strategist, expressionless.
“Is Selick aiming for an in-law position?”
“With a marriageable daughter, it’s not impossible that he has such intentions.”
“Hmm. Well, she is of age, I suppose.”
Theodore’s expression turned sour as he thought of the second daughter of House Selick, who had just turned eighteen.
Beatrice Selick was a knight, officially knighted around the time Theodore ascended the throne. She was strict, stubborn, a lifelong bachelor in temperament—and she also deeply admired Edis. She would likely resist strongly.
He muttered:
“This is why I didn’t want to become king. Now I even have to have my spouse chosen for me.”
“Your Majesty, such disrespectful remarks…”
“It’s just the three of you here. Let it slide. I’m holding back from tearing everything apart already.”
That’s something to be proud of?
Zephyr’s lips twitched as if he wanted to retort but held back. Theodore chuckled as if seeing right through him.
“Anyway, any news?”
“A letter arrived this morning. Things seem to be proceeding roughly as planned.”
“And the spy?”
“He said he needs a little more time.”
Unlike the serious Zephyr, Theodore looked relaxed. Even after being pressured about marriage, he still wore that expression.
Has His Majesty been in a good mood lately? Did something progress with the Queen?
Zephyr thought of the silver-haired, violet-eyed beauty who held such weight in his lord’s emotions, and let out an inward sigh.
Why not just propose again? Why go around in circles like this? As someone in an arranged political marriage himself, he could not understand—but he accepted it. In truth, there was very little about the king’s actions that made sense outside of politics anyway.
“Good. Let’s proceed carefully. Send additional support, and tell them to reach a conclusion before the ceremony.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Understood.”
Unaware of his strategist’s thoughts—who misinterpreted his intent as simply solving matters cleanly before returning to see the queen, with both cute and scheming intentions—the king lowered his gaze.
