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⁜ Episode 4. A Mother’s Command is Scarier than a Revelation
“What do you mean! Why would you enter a temple!”
My father, Raymond Danier, threw both hands up to the heavens, lamenting Oh God!
It was a theatrical gesture, but that couldn’t be helped—people here thought acting this way was polite and sophisticated.
“My beautiful daughter, what could you possibly lack that you must enter the filthy lands of Hamilcar, hmm?!”
For a moment, I froze.
I had said, with all sincerity, “I wish to devote myself to the God of Wisdom, Gerka, and study to become a good wife.” But that expression of his made it clear he wasn’t buying a single word of it.
Worse, my father’s words cut straight to the point.
Yes—what I really wanted was simply to enter Hamilcar’s lands. Gerka was just a convenient excuse.
At the dinner table, my eldest brother, Bertrand, crossed his arms in silence, clearly losing his appetite. The way he massaged his neck with one hand meant he was deeply displeased.
Second brother David outright stood up and shouted:
“There’s no way I’m letting you go to a land of savages!”
The Hamilcar County, while officially a fief, had near-sovereign autonomy in exchange for defending the border. The people there didn’t even call themselves “Morihen folk,” but proudly “Hamilcar folk.”
Not exactly wrong. If you have the right to wage war, you’re basically a nation. Many already called it the County-kingdom.
If I were in Korea, I would have snapped back with “And who are you to decide yes or no for me?!” David and I are only three years apart—what gives him the right to dictate my life?
But unfortunately, here he had that right. I was part of the Danier family’s assets, and my brothers were among those who managed that estate.
Sigh. The fate of being a super ‘Eul’.
(Eul = the powerless party in a relationship of hierarchy.)
Still, even an Eul must know how to act like one.
So I looked at the highest “Gap” in the room—my father, the head of the family.
But father had already sided with little brother. No, “sided with” was too mild. He was practically synchronized with him.
What about big brother? Could I sway him and flip the tide?
I looked toward Bertrand, and our eyes met—only for him to quickly glance away, pretending we hadn’t. That was his way of saying, don’t count on me.
That left me only one person.
I turned my head. Mother was watching me quietly.
“Arian, why insist on a temple so far away? There’s a Gerka temple in our own lands.”
Unlike the men, who reacted with fury, Mother calmly pointed out the flaw in my reasoning.
Hah. But Mother, I was prepared for that question.
“Since I must go anyway, a famous temple will be more beneficial. And besides, the Gerka Temple in Hamilcar has Her.”
That “Her” referred to Pythia, the temple’s High Priestess and oracle. After it was confirmed that she truly received Gerka’s revelations, she was never allowed to leave the “Majestic Assembly” mountain for the rest of her life.
She was also the king’s sister, the late king’s eldest daughter. But such noble status meant nothing in the face of divine will.
It was said that Hamilcar’s arrogance partly stemmed from holding Pythia as their “hostage.”
For the king, having his sister trapped there must be galling. But for me? It was an opportunity.
If I could study under the one and only Saintess of the continent, and—if luck favored me—even win her sponsorship, my marriage prospects would be nearly equal to those of a princess.
Of course, if the actual princess went to study under her aunt, no matter what I did, I could never compare. But would a princess ever go to Hamilcar, that barbaric land? Of course not.
The king would never allow it either—having his daughter held hostage alongside his sister? Impossible.
So all I had to do was get there first.
I hadn’t said all this aloud, but Mother understood perfectly. And so did my father and brothers.
“You have no flaws—why would you need to go to a temple?!”
Going to a temple raised one’s value. Which also implied—only someone whose value needed “raising” would go.
A highborn daughter like me, with a powerful father and a mother tied by blood to the ruling family, had no need.
The girls who went were usually illegitimate, scandal-ridden, shamed, orphans, stepdaughter victims—or otherwise troubled. And even they didn’t go to Hamilcar. They chose temples in their own lands, with all the comforts.
So Father screamed because I was acting like a flawed girl.
Of course, if I truly went, Father would spin it politically—claiming I was “devout” rather than defective. But girls my age would still whisper that I was defective—because Hamilcar was so notoriously remote and savage.
Not that it mattered. My fate wasn’t decided by girls my age, but by men like Father or Count Hamilcar, and women like my mother.
Mother silenced Father with a glance, then tapped the table softly with her fingers. Finally, she smiled at me gently.
“You truly are my daughter. I am proud of you.”
“Dear!” Father barked in protest.
Someone once said: Men rule the world. But women rule over men inside the home.
Not always true, but in our household, it was.
“Since you’re determined to stand on your own, this mother will fully support you.”
“Mother!” cried David, but she ignored him.
And thus, my path to the temple was sealed.
Ten days later, all preparations were complete. As I stepped into the carriage, Mother held my hand.
“Since you leave with such firm resolve, I will not worry. I trust you will surely return with Saintess Pythia’s sponsorship.”
…Excuse me? When did I ever say I’d secure Pythia’s sponsorship?!
She was the one and only Saintess of the entire continent. I wasn’t a princess, just a count’s daughter. Sponsorship? Impossible.
But Mother just smiled, ignoring my look of disbelief.
“Surely you’re not just running away from family interference, saying random things? No—you’ll do well. I know you will.”
Her face said: If you don’t, don’t bother coming back.
“Wait, Mother—”
I was about to protest, but she let go of my hand and closed the carriage door.
The coachman set off. Wait! I didn’t say we were leaving yet!
And judging by the way Father was crying “Arian!” in the distance, it wasn’t his order either.
No—the coachman obeyed the highest authority present. And that, clearly, was Mother.
So the carriage rolled away, carrying me not just with a divine revelation, but with something far scarier: my mother’s command.
The journey to Hamilcar lands took twenty-three days.
I’d thought medieval roads were unpaved, but most of the path was stone-laid, making travel smoother. Not asphalt, but still far better than mud.
And unlike Earth’s Middle Ages, this world had magic.
My carriage had no suspension, but an enchantment absorbed shocks. Thanks to that—and frequent inns—the trip wasn’t unbearable.
The real trouble began after arrival.
The “Majestic Assembly” mountain was far beyond what I’d imagined. Its peak pierced the heavens, its snow dazzlingly bright under the sun.
Truly divine. No wonder people said gods had once descended there.
But how in the world am I supposed to climb that? Not in a summer dress, certainly.
On the first day, my knights and I didn’t even need to discuss it—we all just exchanged glances and turned away from the slope.
At the mountain’s base were several villages. Small, yes, but clearly not poor.
Children’s clothes, the condition of houses—everything suggested they had some additional income source. Which meant trading with them would be easier.
Before heading to the temple, I would need to speak with the local overseer.
Hopefully he’s someone I can reason with.
