RR 08

Chapter : 08

After that, Elga focused on learning the layout of the castle and the bedroom where Meryl lived. It was so vast that she got lost and wandered around several times, but she eventually grew used to it. Still, she was surprised every time she sat down to eat. Being able to eat her fill of freshly baked bread—this was a luxury she had never known as the eldest of twelve siblings.

At first, driven by greed, she stuffed herself until her belly felt ready to burst. Whether it was bread or meat, she ate as much as she could. The wages she earned working in the castle were decent, but it was thanks to Count Rediang, who believed that people wouldn’t harbor stray thoughts as long as their stomachs were full. With each passing day, her loyalty grew. There couldn’t be a better job anywhere in Slorand.

In just a few days, Elga’s complexion changed. She had once been sallow from hunger, but now she finally looked like a normal fourteen-year-old. The work wasn’t too hard either. While Meryl studied with a monk from the Rediang monastery, she cleaned the bedroom, and while Meryl rested, she cleaned the study. She washed the bed sheets and laundered and cared for the dresses. Since she had worked from a very young age, none of it was difficult.

At last, a week had passed. From early morning, everyone was busy preparing to head to the cathedral for Mass. Elga helped Meryl into her dress and finished styling her hair. She was thrilled. She had been told she would be paid on every day there was Mass, and today was that day.

“Elga.”

“Yes, Lady Meryl.”

“Take this.”

Elga accepted the leather pouch Meryl held out. Clink—she heard the sound of coins striking each other. Her mouth fell open on its own. Meryl smiled and said,

“It’s a reward for your good work.”

Elga bent deeply at the waist. She was so happy. She had only done what she usually did, yet she was being rewarded. To her eyes, the Rediang family looked like angels.

After carefully collecting even the weekly pay given by the head maid, they headed for the cathedral. When the townspeople saw Count Rediang and Meryl enter, they all rose at once to show their respect.

Soon, as they took their seats, the Mass began. Elga, seated behind Meryl, also offered her prayers.

“Please let me serve Lady Meryl forever.”

When the Mass finally ended and they stepped out into the cathedral courtyard, Elga immediately spotted her family. They were the ones who counted the days, waiting for the wages she would bring home.

“Look! I earned this much!”

Her whole family rejoiced. Now they could eat without having to steal even a single piece of bread. It felt as though their fortunes had finally turned for the better.

But while Elga was so happy, ominous movements were beginning in the capital.

King Accus IV’s face was deeply furrowed. There was no sign of things improving. Once again, torrential rains had caused the dikes to collapse. As a result, the crops they had cultivated with blood and sweat were submerged and rotted away. He tapped his desk and muttered,

“Looks like I’ll have to beg Rediang again.”

His brow creased. Though he was king, he wielded less power than a mere count. He needed to build up his military strength quickly, but that required enormous sums of money. Yet every harvest season, days of relentless downpour came. It was enough to drive him mad with frustration.

“At this rate, when will I ever truly rule as king?”

Taxes were fixed, so he couldn’t just take as much as he wanted. If he did, the lords would surely rise up in rebellion. The Accus royal family still lacked the strength to dominate the nobles. For that, the treasury had to be solid—but the empty granaries clung to his ambitions and dragged them down.

Accus IV irritably spread out a parchment. It listed the taxes sent from each territory.

“It’s not enough. No matter how I look at it, it’s not enough.”

The vast plains of the Rediang territory came to mind on their own. They must be harvesting right about now. A count richer than the king himself. He would love nothing more than to march into Rediang and seize it, but realistically, it was impossible. The other lords would see it as an overreach of royal authority. Nobles never wanted the king to become stronger than themselves. His face twisted.

He wanted Rediang. If he had Rediang alone, everything he desired would be solved. He could crush flat those insolent lords who so often defied his commands…

Just then, there was a knock.

“Who is it?”

“Archbishop Mille has arrived.”

Annoyance surged up instantly. As if the rotting grain weren’t enough, Archbishop Mille had come to ask for money again.

Archbishop Mille always complained that the Rediang cathedral was larger and more famous than the capital’s great cathedral. So around this time every year, he would visit the king and, under the pretext of a consecration, subtly demand special donations. Yet he did nothing for the king in return, driven only by his desire to expand the capital’s cathedral.

Then a good idea struck Accus IV. Straightening his back, he said,

“Let him in.”

Archbishop Mille entered.

“Welcome, Your Grace.”

Accus IV took the archbishop’s hand, kissed the ruby ring upon it, and sat facing him. And unlike usual, he let Mille speak first. The archbishop couldn’t help but grow wary. Accus IV was not a man who listened so readily, and such courtesy only heightened his unease.

Sure enough, when Archbishop Mille said he hoped there might be a donation, Accus IV spoke softly.

“I too wish that the great cathedral you lead becomes the most famous and beautiful in Slorand. But once again, the capital’s finances have fallen short. Perhaps our prayers were lacking—the dike collapsed, after all.”

The archbishop’s face hardened. So that was it. It seemed building the new cloister was out of the question again. But the king wasn’t finished.

“I would like to give generous donations, just like Count Rediang.”

Ah. Rediang. Just thinking of it made envy rise. Bishop Benedi, who managed the cathedral there, was growing plumper by the day. Not only that—though they were close, every time they met, Benedi boasted so much it made his stomach churn. But as a clergyman, he couldn’t show such feelings. He could only let them fester inside.

Archbishop Mille said,

“The Rediang territory has received far too many blessings. God must desire fairness. I worry that such greed may prevent them from passing through the gates of heaven.”

Accus IV smiled faintly. Just as ever, Archbishop Mille was simple and clear about what he wanted. People like that were easy to use. All you had to do was give them what they desired. In a confidential tone, Accus IV said,

“That’s exactly why I’m worried. If Count Rediang were to die, Meryl would have to govern the territory. Would those around her really leave her in peace? It would be good to appoint a guardian, but…”

He had heard that Count Rediang was plagued by the flood of marriage proposals, since his daughter was the wealthiest heiress in Slorand. But the count cherished his daughter so much that he had declared he would not let her marry until she turned twenty. And if one day he were to suddenly die…

Archbishop Mille bit the bait at once. The king wasn’t talking about attacking Rediang, looting its church, or framing the count. He was simply, out of pure intent, worrying about Count Rediang’s daughter, Meryl.

As king, it was a most reasonable concern. If Meryl were truly left alone, disputes between territories would be inevitable, and all of Slorand could be plunged into chaos.

Putting on a troubled expression, Archbishop Mille replied,

“I too have been worried about that matter. God would surely be concerned if Slorand were to fall into disorder.”

“Sigh… That’s why I’ve had so much on my mind lately. I’m afraid Count Rediang might misunderstand and think I have other intentions—he’s so suspicious, after all.”

After a moment of thought, Archbishop Mille spoke.

“Then perhaps I should meet with Bishop Benedi. As you know, I’m quite close to him. If I’m elevated to cardinal, I’m considering him as my successor.”

“How would I know the affairs of the Church?”

The Church and the crown stood as equals. The pope’s power was even greater than a king’s, which was why Accus IV never treated the archbishop with disrespect.

Archbishop Mille smiled.

“Indeed. The Church will handle its own affairs. But Slorand must be at peace if we are ever to produce even a pope, don’t you think?”

“If that happens, I will support you wholeheartedly, Your Grace.”

“There’s no need for that… but if such an opportunity comes, I will trust in Your Majesty.”

“Of course.”

Archbishop Mille was already elated. What patron could be more reliable than the king himself? He would take care of Meryl and manage the territory well. The capital would gain something from it too, and it would be a great help later when he challenged for the papacy.

His steps were unusually light as he returned to the cathedral.

Left alone, Accus IV wore a triumphant smile. Now the greedy Archbishop Mille would move things along on his own. And if that happened… well, one never knows how things will turn out. Even a healthy man can suddenly die.