TFM 32

Chapter 32

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By noon, the rain began pouring down like a deluge.

The soldiers, who had been busily packing their belongings, hurriedly covered the supply wagons with tarpaulins and shoved the horses back into the stables.

Watching the scene from inside the wagon, Ayla lifted her head and stared at the sky, now stained black.

Amid the thick, black clouds pouring down heavy raindrops, flashes of lightning flickered intermittently, followed by a rumbling sound. It was clear at a glance that the rain showed no sign of stopping soon.

"It seems we'll have to stay at the monastery one more day."

Having apparently decided to postpone their departure, the guard knight who had been secluded in the knights' quarters for a long while approached the carriage and slipped a waterproofed robe through the door crack.

Ayla took it and let out a small sigh. She wasn't pleased that their schedule was being delayed bit by bit. Wasn't this journey already fraught with enough uncertainties?

She slipped on the rain cloak, glancing repeatedly out the window.

"Where is His Royal Highness the Crown Prince?"

"His Highness has gone to the abbot's residence."

Ayla, pulling the hood over her head, frowned and turned to look at him.

"He's staying there again today?"

"It appears so."

The knight trailed off ambiguously, lowering his gaze.

Ayla shot a displeased look at the monks gathered in one spot.

When the abbot, standing beneath the cloister roof, gave some instruction, the monks dispersed in perfect unison. She watched the scene intently.

Unlike when dealing with Gareth, the abbot appeared cold and solemn. That must be his true nature.

Ayla narrowed her eyes. Originally, the royal pilgrimage was a ritual to gain the support of local citizens and influential figures. Considering the purpose of this journey, Gareth cultivating friendships with local dignitaries wasn't a bad thing. However, the abbot’s background troubled her.

“To overcome the weakness of being a different race and rise to the position of abbot, he must possess remarkable political skill... or have a powerful backer.”

Though their conversation had been brief, Ayla quickly sensed the abbot was no ordinary man. While outwardly polite, his gaze as he studied Gareth betrayed a cold, calculating intent. She wondered if he might be an agent planted by the Empress.

Hadn't the Tarren family closely collaborated with other races since the Age of the Ten Kingdoms? It couldn't be a mere coincidence that a quarter-elf had risen to such a high priestly position managing a vast monastery like Mordawyn.

Perhaps he was beginning to build a faction within the church supporting the Second Prince…………….

"Your Highness?"

Lost in thought, Ayla snapped her head up. Her knight of the guard stood in the pouring rain, his eyes filled with concern.

Ayla gave an awkward smile and straightened up.

"I've kept you standing in the rain too long. Come, let's return to the lodgings."

The knight took her hand, helping her step down from the carriage.

Ayla carefully placed her feet on the squelching muddy path.

Heavy raindrops stung the top of her head and shoulders. The downpour seemed to have intensified since then.

Pulling her hood tightly over her head, Ayla hurried across the wide courtyard, now blanketed in a white curtain of rain, and entered the cloister surrounding the garden. She approached the monks, pretending it was by chance.

"Your Highness."

The monk of another race, who had been conversing with the deputy abbot, spotted her and quickly bowed low.

Ayla, her smile frozen into habit, spoke gently.

"How coincidental that I must trouble you for one more day."

"It is nothing but an honor to serve such distinguished guests."

The monk responded respectfully without straightening his stooped back.

"If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to ask. Whatever the monastery can prepare, we shall provide immediately."

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

After a brief pause, Ayla continued cautiously.

"Then, might I ask for a favor?"

"Whatever it is, please tell me."

"Tomorrow, I'd like to hold Talia's ceremony separately. Before we depart, would you bestow your blessing upon her as well?"

The abbot's eyes widened slightly, perhaps taken aback by the unexpected request.

Ayla watched his reaction closely. It lasted only a fleeting moment, but she saw a flicker of caution appear and vanish in his pale violet eyes.

The monk asked cautiously.

"Are you requesting a blessing ceremony for Her Highness the Second Princess?"

"Who else could it be?"

Ayla added softly, a faint smile playing at her lips.

"Since we're staying an extra day anyway, wouldn't it be good for that child to have the ceremony too?"

"I hadn't realized Your Highness thought so highly of the Second Princess."

Ayla turned her head at the sudden voice.

Varkas, who had walked silently through the rain-soaked garden, pushed back his dripping hood and gave her a dry look.

Ayla, who had been wearing a welcoming smile, darkened. His rain-drenched face bore a chillier expression than usual. Seeing that cold, hardened look, her nerves instantly sharpened.

She knew well that his hypersensitivity to matters concerning Talia stemmed from years of accumulated negative feelings. Even this unfeeling man couldn't help but be repulsed by the sheer magnitude of her younger sister's wickedness.

Having endured her antics right beside him for a full seven years, it was no wonder he recoiled in disgust.

Her mind understood all these facts. Yet, the way this utterly indifferent man displayed such sharp reactions only when it came to that child sometimes grated on her nerves unbearably.

Ayla forgot her attempt to test the abbot and responded emotionally.

"I'm not worried about the child, I'm worried about you. His Majesty personally entrusted that child to you. If he finds out we performed the ceremony without Talia, you might face unnecessary blame."

"But I can't exactly drag someone who refuses to come to the altar, can I?"

His tone was laced with sarcasm, and Ayla’s face hardened.

She was accustomed to his occasional coldness, which could make her heart skip a beat. But she couldn't tolerate him being rude to her over Talia Roem Guirta.

Ayla lifted her chin stiffly.

"First, we should confirm Talia's wishes. She's a capricious child; she might change her mind again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, we will depart at first light. We have no intention of altering our schedule based on Her Highness the Second Princess's whims."

Varkas cut her off decisively.

Having never experienced her opinion dismissed so bluntly, Ayla flushed with anger. She wanted to rebuke his rudeness immediately, but she didn't wish to undermine his authority in front of everyone.

Ayla forced herself to hide her displeasure.

"If that is your wish, then so be it."

As she acquiesced, Varkas turned his gaze toward the abbot.

The monk, who had been watching the standoff with interest, quickly lowered his eyes. Varkas looked down at him with a cold stare and issued a quiet warning.

"I would prefer tonight to be as quiet as possible. If we are to depart at first light, shouldn't His Royal Highness the Crown Prince also get a good night's rest?"

It meant to forbid any banquets or feasts tonight. The abbot nodded stiffly.

As if there was nothing more to say, Varkas turned and extended a hand toward Ayla.

"Let's go now. I'll escort you to your quarters."

Ayla swallowed a sigh and took his hand.