“Welcome.”

“Welcome to the home of the glorious Saranuman.”

It was just the right amount of pleasantries and no more. Their eyes showed no hint of expectation, let alone warmth. Perhaps to show their cold reception, their expressions were uniformly as chilly as the complexions of those born in the northern country.

‘…As expected.’

After the carriage door swung wide open, Riella studied the courtiers of Tolin Royal Palace through the veil covering her face, and swallowed down relief at the familiar treatment.

Nor was that all. Excluding the guards, fewer than ten people came out to welcome her. For a reception of the one who would be served as queen, the turnout was woefully meager.

It was fortunate. If many people came out to meet her for nothing, she might have lost her nerve. However much it was an act, a welcome like that would leave a fake saintess at a loss for where to put herself.

Above all.

‘The king of Saranthum didn’t come out either.’

No matter how she searched the head of the welcoming ranks, she couldn’t find anyone who looked like her betrothed.

That was even more fortunate. Riella wasn’t yet mentally prepared to meet the horned, ferocious descendant of dragons.

Thinking the situation was rather decent, Riella got ready to step down.

“Now, please step down.”

Just then, a hand thr*st abruptly into the carriage, breaking her train of thought. The gaze that followed, scanning the interior, was rather sharp.

The heart that softened slightly with relief shrank at once.

A blond man in his forties inspected her condition, his eyes darting. He was Valencio, the representative of the Holy Kingdom’s delegation. One of the Holy Kingdom’s eight high priests, he was the Holy Emperor’s undisputed closest aide.

Political marriage was the final gate of the peace negotiations. Since the war needed an envoy of the Holy Emperor to officially bring it to an end, he accompanied Riella as both a congratulatory envoy for the royal wedding and her escort.

As for this man.

“Chest out, head up. Behave properly.”

“…….”

“Do not forget for a single moment that Rem is watching.”

He was also Riella’s teacher.

At the sharp whisper, pitched too low for the Saranthumians to hear, Riella’s whole body naturally shrank. It felt like even her soul was shriveling.

Sure enough, the gaze appraising her bearing as she tried to get out of the carriage was even sharper.

“With a bearing like this, aren’t you letting the barbarian bastards look down on Rem’s name?”

Whenever she faced Valencio’s stern gaze, she naturally remembered the study room in the residence where he taught her. The sound of scolding pouring into her ears, the damp air of a room where every window was blocked so not a speck of sunlight entered, the lighting so dim it was hard to read the letters of the scripture, and, alongside it, the sharp whistling of air that echoed like a hallucination. The long-healed wounds on her back and calves, where whips and canes bit into her, burned hotly.

This must be one of the effects the Holy Emperor intended by sending him as head of the delegation.

“You carry the blood I passed on to you, yet you amounted to nothing more than that. Am I not giving you a chance to repay the favor of giving you life? It is a duty too heavy for you, so you must strive and strive again, without foolish thoughts.”

By sending along the man who disciplined her as a kind of monitor, they were keeping her in check so Riella would keep obeying the church’s will even in Saranthum.

“Win those barbarian bastards’ favor and secure the key to their treasury vault. If you can get close to the underground altar, all the better.”

This was because Riella bore a duty to act for the Holy Kingdom’s scheme behind this political marriage.

Merely imagining it was overwhelming. Winning the favor of such coldhearted people from an enemy nation, being recognized as the mistress of the house to obtain the vault key, and verifying the ruins of an abandoned old temple said to remain somewhere inside the palace.

Could she, who never properly mingled with people, carry out all those orders without exposing her intentions?

If her husband stared at her with eyes resembling the evil dragon’s and interrogated her, it would be fortunate if she didn’t tremble, prostrate herself, and confess even sins she never committed.

‘No, before that, I might be eaten….’

As the delusion grew longer, only her fear swelled. Riella forced her trembling hand to move, took Valencio’s hand, and stepped down from the carriage.

At that moment, Valencio squeezed her hand. The unnecessary pressure pressed the creases of her palm into his skin, and goosebumps rose along her spine.

It felt like he caught every pathetic thought she was thinking.

Reflexively, the skin of her br*asts stung. He used to curse her through his teeth, saying her body was hopelessly sluggish, or that her head was too thick to carve in his teachings, and poke her chest through her shabby tunic with a cane whose tip was roughly finished, jab, jab. It was a nasty habit of digging at the full flesh on purpose, just to add shame.

‘Lord Valencio might…find a way to punish me even here.’

At the thought that his cane, stained red from drinking her blood, might be somewhere nearby, Riella, scared in advance, forced herself to focus.

Shoulders back, chest out. She did it to fashion a bearing lacking in neither grace nor elegance, like one raised nobly from childhood as the Holy Emperor’s daughter.

Fortunately, no further rebuke followed. He seemed to be satisfied with her somehow. The northern wind seeped between the deeply cut square neckline of her dress and the chill pierced her, but she succeeded in not shivering.

When she left, the Holy Kingdom was just deepening into autumn, yet here it was already the beginning of winter.

“Welcome. You must be weary from the long journey. I am Karl Günther, and I manage the palace’s household.”

An elderly man standing at the front stepped forward to greet them. Without any flowery words, only a greeting based on etiquette followed.

“We thank everyone from the Holy Kingdom for visiting. It is also an honor to serve Rem’s holy daughter.”

The middle-aged man finished dryly, and his eyes quietly picked over her attire. His sharpness was that of appraising whether she was harmful to them and whether she was suitable as their king’s consort.

Yes. Valencio wasn’t the only one evaluating Riella.

‘Karl Günther…then he must be the head of House Günther, one of Saranthum’s twelve elders. A family that has served as head of the royal household for generations.’

The courtiers and guards standing behind him were no different. The gazes flying from dozens of pairs of eyes even seemed to jeer at her attire. Riella’s central-continent-style dress differed from their clothing, and her gorgeous dress as the king’s betrothed differed from the practical clothes of those who worked in the palace.

‘They say Saranthumians serve the king in place of the dragon…. They can’t possibly be pleased with a queen from the Holy Kingdom suddenly foisted on them.’

It was fortunate once again. If they pretended not to slight her and welcomed her with a great crowd, these sharp gazes would have been several times as many. As it was, it was only this much, and she could roughly endure it behind her veil.

Comforting herself that way, Riella returned their greeting, treating the head of the household as their representative.

“I bring the peace of Rem. I am Riella.”

Hands together before her chest, knees slightly bent, upper body bowed gently. It was the first time she showed the church’s greeting, which she learned in a crash course over the past three months.

“Thank you for your welcome. Blessings upon the Saranuman people.”

She finished in a clear voice, even using the term the Saranthumians call themselves, and was about to straighten up when.

‘…Ngh.’

Her body, which sat all day inside the carriage, suddenly creaked, and Riella nearly lost her balance.