A chill ran down her spine. Valencio noticed, and his contemptuous gaze felt like it was stabbing the back of her head.

If this were the Holy Emperor’s residence, what flew at her would have been a cane, not a glare. Frozen stiff, Riella hurriedly ran through every fingertip and toe in her head. Straighten her shoulders, straighten her back, pour grace into her fingertips….

She finished the greeting like nothing happened, without damaging the church’s face, and lifted her head with relief.

…Sniffle.

Riella was startled by the sound that came from herself. It happened without her noticing. Her nose tip, startled by the cold northern climate, grew clear and moist, and she sniffled without meaning to.

If it ended there, she could have at least pretended it didn’t happen…. In the end, even her shoulders, exposed to the cold, shuddered.

‘…I’m in trouble.’

She had no time even to blame herself for failing to control her own body before the atmosphere changed greatly.

Prickly gazes poured in from all sides. Behind her, of course, but the gazes of the Saranthumians who kept her at a distance were also fierce.

Even in this cold, a cold sweat ran down Riella’s spine.

“Oh my, Saintess.”

Then two women who stood at the head of the delegation came over.

“What did we tell you? We said you’d be cold, didn’t we? You refused the cloak because you wanted to look pretty….”

“That’s right. This dress, that is, Madame Lesder? Since it’s the work of the most renowned tailor in our Lund Eight Nations, you must want to show it off, I suppose.”

Their hurried retorts, like people scalded by Valencio’s cold glare, left Riella aghast.

‘I didn’t say anything earlier….’

When they reached the checkpoint at Tolin’s fortress wall, how frantic those hands were as they changed Riella’s clothes! They dragged her out of the carriage without a word and stripped off her travel robe first, so she had no time even to open her mouth.

Judging by the fact that they put on their own robes, they deliberately turned her into a scarecrow in a harvested field.

The two who accompanied Riella under the pretext of being her maids were all kin of the high priests. Kin in name only, they were the high priests’ illegitimate children, just like Riella. They were merely monastics, but their influence in the Holy Kingdom was considerable.

It was only natural that they treated Riella with contempt. Breaking the spirit of Riella, who was suddenly venerated as a saintess, mattered more to them than avoiding a stain on the Holy Kingdom’s honor.

‘Why are they like this? I mustn’t be exposed as the one who was bullied in the Holy Kingdom….’

After an awkward interval, in which Riella couldn’t react, Valencio clicked his tongue quietly in displeasure and glared at the two women monastics in turn. For Valencio, who thought only of cowing the barbarians, this was all a bothersome trick.

“…If there is the slightest flaw in the saintess’s health, it is our failing for not attending her properly, and a disgrace before the nation of Saranthum. Of course, since she is blessed by Rem, she will not catch such wicked ailments.”

“Yes, of course. That’s right,” the two monastics said, bowing low one after another at Valencio’s cold summation.

Even hearing him scold those who tricked her, Riella felt not at all relieved. Valencio’s words were ultimately directed at Riella.

They meant she must never be exposed as a fake saintess, so she must not carelessly fall ill either.

Valencio immediately pressed his palms together and bowed to the head of the household.

“The peace of Rem upon Lord Karl Günther of Saranthum. I am the Sixth High Priest, Valencio. I came as the saintess’s aide and the head of the delegation.”

“It is an honor to meet you, High Priest. I am Karl Günther.”

“Thank you for the welcome, but…. Is this the whole welcoming party?”

“Pardon?”

“Or perhaps your country’s wedding custom forbids the groom from seeing the bride until the marriage ceremony?”

The sarcastic question made Riella nervous just from listening beside him. But Valencio didn’t mind at all. Before the barbarians could look down on them over what just happened, calling them people with no sense of hierarchy, he had to find fault with their rudeness.

The head of the household answered at once, with a grave face.

“His Majesty could not come out because he is in a meeting.”

“Now, of all times?”

Valencio furrowed his brow, seemingly having waited for this.

This morning they surely announced by courier that they would arrive today, and a message must have gone ahead when they passed the checkpoint at Tolin’s fortress wall, so the king seemingly attended the meeting while knowing exactly when they would arrive. Wasn’t this beyond a clear snub, and into outright neglect? They expected Saranthum not to welcome them properly, but this went too far.

As the delegation’s mood grew ominous, derision appeared on the Saranthumians’ faces, as if on display.

In a silence as cold as the northern early-winter air.

…Meanwhile, Riella thought it was understandable.

‘Why would they come out on time to welcome a betrothed from an enemy nation that was forced on them…?’

This was absolutely not because Riella wasn’t ready to meet a groom with horns on his forehead. Absolutely not, not at all.

“We apologize.”

The head of the household bowed with a face not the least bit sorry.

“It would be good for His Majesty to greet you in person, since a state guest is visiting, but a matter requiring urgent discussion arose and he convened the state council, which is running long.”

“How urgent can it be that they neglect even the welcome of the betrothed who will become the royal household’s mistress?”

As Valencio showed his displeasure openly, a subtle discomfort layered itself among the courtiers. They seemed to want to say that none of them truly “welcomed” the Holy Kingdom’s delegation.

“It is understandable that you think so. An emergency state council in peacetime, with no threat of invasion, is truly rare.”

“What did you say just now?”

“I am merely stating the facts. The Arkenia War was the longest the national army has ever campaigned since the founding.”

“Do you not think that insulting a state guest bearing such a weighty mission could prolong the very invasion in question?”

The confrontation sharpened. The air between them stung her skin, and Riella, who happened to stand between the two, hunched her shoulders on her own.

When she cowered, she remembered Valencio poking her for it, so she managed to hold on without doing so.

For Riella, this kind of conflict was truly unbearable. Wherever shouting went back and forth, she was always the sinner. She felt she had to beg forgiveness and say it was all her fault. If asked what she did wrong, she would have no answer…but even so, she wanted to resolve this nerve-racking tug of war somehow.

Perhaps only Riella thought so, because no one stopped them, and the atmosphere on both sides grew rather savage, when.

“He is right.”

An unfamiliar voice rang out. It was a voice not heard until now, one that overwhelmed the entire gathering.

It was low yet far-reaching, light with a faint trace of laughter, yet it chilled the lungs of everyone.

Did some kind of power dwell in it? The air pressure seemed to change, her shoulders were pressed down in advance, and an even deeper chill drifted in. It was a chill whose nature was somehow different from that of the cold weather.

“It is a welcome for the one who will be my consort, so it is right to set everything aside and attend.”

At the words “my consort,” Riella reflexively looked behind the courtiers to find the speaker.

No, she didn’t even need to try. She realized, a beat late, that the betrothed in question was someone she ought to fear, and she had no time even to regret her needless curiosity before a head appeared abruptly above the ridgeline of their crowns.

“I welcome you from the Holy Kingdom.”

He was as tall as that gap suggested. His shoulders were broad in proportion. His hairstyle, not groomed to impress anyone, gave off a wild charm.