The Royal Wedding
The audience—those among them who were not of the Hilderson clan—did not know Ulrich. To them, Ulrich Dithmarschen was a man who had lived nearly four hundred years, one who retained his youth, and one who possessed great power.
His answer to the question of why he had refused the imperial crown caused confusion, but only that. The audience did not press further. Unable to read the emotions contained within his smile, they dismissed it as a joke.
"It was all in vain, huh."
Roberta mulled over Ulrich's words.
While the audience was preoccupied with analyzing the power they had just witnessed—and the circumstances revealed by someone who possessed such ability—she was not.
She already knew the truth behind it. What she did not know—what she was hearing for the first time—was the past he had deemed meaningless. She looked toward the staircase. She wanted to follow and ask him, but just as she made up her mind and took a step forward, a voice rang out.
"Now is the time."
The owner of the voice was King Richard of Osnover.
"I believe this is our last chance. If we do not stop even now, we will have no choice but to invite chaos once more—washing blood with blood. Is that truly what you desire? I assure you, no matter who wins among us, none will be able to rejoice."
With a grave expression, he raised his voice as he swept his gaze across the audience.
"If you trust the promise my father made, and if you do not wish to see a second civil war, then I ask that you withdraw even now."
Count Wilhelm of Meyer slammed his sword into its scabbard with a sharp clack. The Hilderson clan followed his lead and lowered their arms.
The opposing secular lords hesitated, but soon several stepped forward in agreement. They were the nobles Ulrich had visited the night before, and as they took the lead, the rest followed suit and withdrew as well.
Though their vigilance did not disappear, they cautiously aligned their words. Armies that had advanced close enough to see the whites of each other's eyes pulled back, and it was agreed that they would withdraw over the course of several days.
The people within the city reacted in a daze upon hearing the news. They did not know the full story, and so they assumed the situation had merely been postponed. On the surface, that was not wrong. The root cause remained, and the excommunication and summons had not been revoked—meaning it was a problem that could ignite again.
However, those directly involved in the incident thought differently. They remembered clearly the miracle Ulrich had performed, and so they believed the reprieve would soon come to an end—and that a second civil war would not arrive in Osnover.
***
"Did you summon me, Your Majesty?"
Roberta entered the reception room, placing a hand over her chest as she bowed her head. At dusk, she had received word that the king wished to see her, and so she came to the royal palace.
"Sit." Richard gestured to the seat on his right. Count Wilhelm was seated to his left. The two had been conversing but fell silent when she entered.
"My apologies for calling you so suddenly at night."
"It's quite all right. I'm sure you have your reasons."
Richard gave a bitter smile.
"Did my father happen to say anything to you in private?"
Tilting her head slightly, she retraced her memory.
"No, nothing noteworthy enough to report to Your Majesty."
Upon hearing her answer, Wilhelm's expression stiffened. He pressed his lips tightly together, his brows furrowing as he lowered his gaze in thought. Seeing his reaction, Roberta sensed the concern hidden within the question.
"Do you think Lord Ulrich has left?"
Since leaving the jousting arena, Ulrich had not shown himself.
"That's right."
"Isn't it a bit too soon to worry? Not even a full day has passed. And it's not the first time Lord Ulrich has disappeared without a word."
It had been the same a few days ago when they visited the mage's stronghold. Ulrich, in disguise, had only returned the following day. She added this explanation, but the two men were not convinced.
"Ordinarily, that might be true—if the circumstances were the same."
Wilhelm let out a sigh.
"But this time is different. The elder revealed too much of himself, and the level of attention on him has grown far too great. You know his personality as well, don't you? Is he someone who enjoys being the center of attention?"
Roberta almost said surely not, but swallowed the words. The two men before her knew him better than she did, and when she thought about it, it did seem likely.
Ulrich was a man of many names. And why did he have so many? To conceal himself. Yet such a man had revealed his power before the audience and even disclosed his connection to Kormilius.
Those who had witnessed his power were now frantically searching for him. Many had even seized Roberta, questioning her for answers. There was no way he had not foreseen this outcome.
It was reasonable to assume that, having secured a promise to revoke the excommunication and summons from the Pantheon, he had already set out for that place.
"If…."
After a moment of hesitation, she spoke.
"If that's the case?"
Richard shook his head.
"If Father has left, then there is nothing I can do. It is regrettable that he departed without attending the ceremony, but that is simply the kind of person he is. His current life has only been unusually long—if I recall correctly, such farewells are quite frequent for him. Of course, there are others in the clan who think differently."
When Wilhelm received his gaze, he frowned but did not refute the statement. As Roberta listened quietly to Richard's continued words, she sensed the difference between the two men.
Whenever Wilhelm spoke of Ulrich, his tone became animated. But Richard's tone did not change. He spoke calmly, as though discussing trivial daily matters.
Among those who knew Ulrich, how many displayed such an attitude? Aside from Bernhardt, no one came to mind.
"Your Majesty, you are Lord Ulrich's adopted son, are you not?"
"That's right. My mother asked it of him before she passed."
"Then… what do you think of Lord Ulrich?"
Richard stroked his chin and said, "Well…"
"It's something I'm often asked, but I don't have much to say. I know why you're asking. But to me, Ulrich Dithmarschen is simply my father."
"By 'father,' you mean…?"
"If the man you speak of were to raise a child, what do you think he would be like?"
Ulrich… raising a child? The thought did not come easily to her, and she found herself at a loss for words.
"Don't overthink it. It's simple—he's ordinary. Just a man with a great deal of knowledge. As a father, he's truly ordinary. If a child whines, he indulges them. If they do something wrong, he scolds them. That's all."
Richard recalled how he had been taken in by Ulrich only a few months after receiving his baptism, and how Ulrich had raised him.
Contrary to expectations, it was all very ordinary. Playing on snow-covered hills, making sleds for him, carrying him home when he collapsed from exhaustion, staying up through the night by his side when he was struck with a fever—it was no different from the stories of any parent raising a child.
"On the other hand, the children of our clan only come to the lord's residence once they've grown a bit older. They're educated by their parents first, then sent to my father. Naturally, their perspective differs from mine."
"Yes… I think I understand what you mean."
"That's a relief. This fellow Wilhelm here couldn't understand it at all, which made things rather difficult." He smiled. "What my father desires from his children is a small sense of fulfillment. Even if they rely on their parents at the beginning, what matters is that they eventually stand on their own and live their own lives—that's the fulfillment a parent feels."
"And," he added,
"Beyond such relationships, my father sometimes forms bonds free from the constraints of the past. Our clan's mother, Hilde, is one such case—and Alonso, who recommended you, could be considered another."
"Alonso?"
"Indeed."
Roberta looked surprised.
No—she had suspected they were somewhat close. After all, it was Pope Marcello who had ordered Alonso to recommend a chief priest for Dithmarschen.
Because Alonso had long been close to the lord of Dithmarschen, he had been tasked with choosing someone suitable—someone who understood the lord well.
"Alonso was closer to my father than you think. You know this as well, don't you? Nearly twenty years separate you and Alonso, and more than ten priests have passed through in that time. Not a single one lasted even a year."
Exactly thirteen chief priests had come and gone.
"If the Pantheon hadn't grown greedy, Alonso would still be in your position even now. Perhaps he might have spent the rest of his life there."
Greedy?
"Think back to what your predecessor did."
"…Pardon? What do you mean, what he did?"
"Then it seems you didn't know."
Her predecessor referred to Priest Clemens. He had gone missing two years ago, and Roberta had taken his place as chief priest.
From the moment she assumed her post, she had investigated the circumstances, but she had yet to uncover the truth. No one spoke of her predecessor. Even Ulrich had only told her to find out for herself.
And yet now, that name—Clemens—had suddenly come up, along with the claim that he had done something. Wilhelm cleared his throat and shot Richard a glance, signaling him not to continue, but Richard ignored it.
"Your predecessor was a man of Kormilius."
"Do you mean he was sent from Kormilius?"
"I mean that the blood of that filthy lot ran in his veins."
Roberta flinched.
"Your Majesty," Wilhelm coughed again in warning.
"Ah… my apologies. That was improper of me to say in front of a priest."
Given Richard's relationship with Kormilius, it was hardly surprising that such harsh words slipped out. Roberta composed her expression as if she hadn't heard it and continued.
"Priest Clemens wasn't of the direct line, was he?"
"Of course not. The direct line of Kormilius cannot be exposed. Those who operate outside are merely those who have taken in blood from elsewhere. However, Clemens was someone that faction had intended as Marcello's successor. If nothing had gone wrong, he would have taken that position before long."
The word problem carried many implications.
"A man like that reignited a civil war that was already dying out, misled the clan, and led them to offer the diadem to my father."
Wilhelm lowered his head deeply, as if ashamed.
"He must have believed he was doing the right thing, but all he did was incur my father's wrath. And despite being told to deliver my father's message to that faction, he failed to do even that."
***
After two nights had passed, the day of the wedding arrived.
The gloom that had hung over the capital, Iselburg, had eased considerably. As the armies stationed outside the city began to withdraw, a sense spread that no incident would occur during the ceremony.
Few nobles attended the wedding. While nearly all of the Hilderson clan were present, less than a quarter of the Pantheon's side came. Most had returned with their armies.
Naturally, the atmosphere was awkward. They had crossed blades and drawn blood; such relationships could not be mended easily.
The real problem lies ahead.
Ulrich had interrogated the heretic he captured and uncovered the truth behind several incidents, including the assassination of Archbishop Vinicio. However, few people had heard the full account.
Because the existence of the non-deification faction—the heretics themselves—carried enormous, dangerous secrets. Revealing everything at once would bring further complications, so Richard had decided to disclose it gradually to soften the shock.
"Why are you sitting here alone?"
Lost in thought, Roberta lifted her head. Fritz approached her as she sat in a corner of the hall. When she replied that she simply had a lot on her mind, the boy said, "I see," and stood beside her, glancing at her repeatedly.
The meaning of his looks was obvious. Ulrich—had she heard anything about him?
She let out a long sigh and answered curtly,
"I don't know either."
Wilhelm and Richard's concerns had proven correct.
Even after two days, Ulrich had not appeared. There had been no word from him. Even she, who had held onto hope, was beginning to accept that he had left.
The hall was noisy with overlapping voices, yet silence lingered between Roberta and Fritz. Both were thinking of Ulrich, but neither could bring themselves to speak of him. To do so would mean acknowledging that he might have truly left.
Roberta's heart was unsettled. She had heard it many times before—he would leave eventually. But like this? So suddenly? She had expected at least a word of notice, yet he had vanished without even a sign.
It had truly been abrupt. How had Richard and Wilhelm known? Had they experienced something like this before?
They say that living long dulls your emotions… has it dulled him this much too? At least say something before leaving.
She grumbled inwardly, uncharacteristically.
At that moment, the crown princess entered the hall. The musicians began to play, and applause broke out. Roberta joined in, clapping along, though her thoughts remained fixed on Ulrich.
"Priest."
Just then, an attendant approached and whispered in her ear.
"He says he'll be waiting at the south gate."
Amid the noise, she picked out the servant's words—and her eyes widened.
There was no need to ask who. It was the message she had been waiting for.
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