Previously
After confirming from Agatha that Heyer Asheri is still alive at the southern border, Iris resolves to alter history and find a way to reach him. On her nineteenth birthday, her birth mother, Princess Celios, arrives at the convent with an armed escort to evaluate whether her abandoned daughter possesses any royal aptitude.
Kings Are Born on the Road
Iris continued.
“Why did you come here?”
Six years ago, Celios had inspected Iris as if appraising a slave, only to depart the moment she determined her daughter was a useless fool.
Because of that, Iris still had no idea why Celios had come here in the first place.
To Iris’s question, Celios replied.
“The great noble houses are split in two. Five of them believe the King’s eldest son, Sid Repos, should ascend the throne, while the remaining three consider me and my daughter, you, to be the legitimate line.”
Hearing those words, Iris let out a dry laugh.
Good heavens.
To think that only now had she learned the reason her mother had sought her out.
Celios had believed that her daughter possessed at least the slimmest chance of becoming king.
No, even if there was no chance, she seemed to hope Iris would fiercely contest the throne, prove herself, and elevate her mother’s honor.
Six years ago, during the first reunion that only Iris remembered, Celios had left after a brief exchange, deciding there was no hope for her daughter. But this time was different.
Celios continued speaking.
“From Sid’s perspective, there is no simpler solution than marrying you. After all, if a child is born between the two of you, that child’s legitimacy would be beyond dispute. Securing the consensus of all eight houses would be easy as well.”
The consensus of the eight houses.
At those words, Iris clenched her fists.
That was the very premise Heyer had insisted she must overturn.
Because of that consensus, every house let down its guard, which ultimately caused Luwan to be hopelessly overpowered after the war. Therefore, the very first thing Iris had to do was avoid this marriage.
* * *
A short while later, a young soldier from outside the convent came rushing in.
“His Highness Sid Repos approaches!”
Upon receiving word that the King’s legitimate and eldest son was arriving, Celios remarked.
“It seems he comes to propose.”
Just as Celios said, Sid’s purpose was a proposal.
Iris spoke to Celios.
“If I go with him right now, I won’t be able to escape the marriage. And once married, any chance of me sitting upon the throne will vanish.”
Unexpectedly, her daughter had grasped the situation with remarkable clarity.
Finding it curious, Celios replied.
“Naturally. Refusing a proposal from the King’s firstborn legitimate son is all but impossible.”
“Lend me some clothes.”
Without asking why, Celios immediately had one of her garment chests opened. From it, she selected a gown and had Iris change into it.
The dress Celios chose was made of dark wine-colored silk.
Over it went a cloak of supreme craftsmanship, two-thirds of its fabric embroidered with gold and green thread.
To top it off, she fastened an openwork gold bangle over the forearm of the dress, having deemed the sleeves too plain.
A moment later, despite the urgency of the moment, Celios could not help but laugh upon seeing Iris fully attired as a noblewoman.
She had looked better in a nun’s habit. Now, anyone who laid eyes on her would know at once that she was Celios Repos’s daughter.
Iris realized as much after gauging the expressions of those around her.
Finding the irony amusing, she chuckled instead—a reaction that surprised even Celios, who was famed for her boldness.
As Celios watched, wondering what she intended to do next, Iris returned carrying the worn, frayed shawl she had used at the convent.
When she began wrapping it tightly around her head, the maids around them gasped and reached out in shock.
“My Lady!”
Paying them no mind, Iris covered her face completely.
Celios stood speechless at the unbelievable sight.
Only pagans veiled their faces with cloth in such a manner.
Of course, there were occasional marriages between pagans from the neighboring kingdom of Suyeo and Luwan nobles.
In those cases, the pagans converted, but until their conversion was complete, they covered their faces with whatever they could find so the gods would not look upon them.
Having seen pagan brides a few times during her life, Iris was merely imitating their customs.
Luwan was so hostile toward foreign faiths that no law even punished the murder of a pagan.
Therefore, in the eyes of those devout from birth, disguising oneself as a pagan—no matter how grave the danger to one’s life—was utterly unthinkable.
Disappointed by her daughter’s behavior, Celios spoke.
“You are nothing short of mad.”
Having grown up entirely in the convent, Iris was just as prejudiced against pagans as anyone else.
As she veiled her face and posed as a sinner, her pale hands trembled faintly. She, too, feared provoking the wrath of her God.
Yet she remembered that Luwan had ultimately perished because of its rejection of foreign faiths.
And she knew that what little of Luwan survived had only done so because Heyer had broken the taboo and felled a Divine Tree.
Just as she finished wrapping the cloth, Celios’s cousin once removed—the King’s legitimate firstborn son, Sid Repos—entered the convent with his entourage.
With an arrogance plain for anyone to see, Sid Repos dismounted and walked toward Celios. He then bowed in courteous knightly greeting.
“Royal Aunt.”
Though the tightly wrapped shawl blocked her view, Iris remembered this man.
Yet for having lived as husband and wife for six years, she had remarkably few meaningful memories of him.
In Sid’s face lingered traces of Heyer, his maternal half-brother. But above all, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Iris—close enough to make their second-cousin relation feel uncomfortably near.
They shared the hallmark traits of the royal Repos house: jet-black hair, chillingly pale skin, and dark blue eyes that evoked the coldness of ice crystals. Their slender facial contours were alike as well.
For some reason, that resemblance had occasionally unsettled Iris.
Fortunately, Sid had seemed to feel the same way; having married out of cold necessity, he had never shown the slightest interest in her.
“Welcome.”
Celios offered her greeting in a manner that was neither displeased nor particularly welcoming.
Sid Repos spoke with a faint smile.
“Hearing that you were traveling here, Royal Aunt, I came in the hope that I might finally meet your daughter.”
“Dear me. My daughter is not here.”
At the unexpected answer, Sid’s brow furrowed briefly.
Whenever Celios rambled on about royal legitimacy and insisted that her daughter’s place in the succession ought to be considered, his temper flared.
Even so, knowing it would never amount to anything, he had ridden all the way from the capital, convinced that settling the matter through marriage would put an end to it all.
Yet here she was, claiming her daughter was absent.
Sid’s suspicion flared anew: was Celios still harboring ambitions to put her daughter on the throne?
“Royal Aunt, it is unbecoming to utter falsehoods in a place of worship.”
“Is it from your father that you learned to accuse an elder of lying without a shred of proof?”
“Do not insult His Majesty.”
“You were the one who insulted me first.”
At Celios’s retort, Sid merely smiled and signaled with his hand to begin searching the convent.
At once, a force of soldiers far outnumbering Celios’s retinue began turning the grounds upside down.
While they searched, Sid strode unhindered through Celios’s entourage, scrutinizing each face one by one. Eventually, his eyes landed upon the veiled woman.
As Sid looked down at her as though observing an insect, Celios spoke.
“She is a lady of noble birth from Suyeo, so do not be so insolent.”
“…”
The presence of a pagan inside a convent did not please him in the least, but compared to their cruelty toward infidels, the people of Luwan were reasonably tolerant of those willing to convert.
Naturally, prejudice remained even after conversion, but men like Sid, who cherished their own nobility, loved to display their magnanimity before the world.
At any rate, Sid found the veiled pagan woman so repulsive that he had no desire to step near her.
In the meantime, the soldiers who had scoured every corner of the convent returned empty-handed.
Celios spoke.
“As I said, she is a highborn lady who wishes to convert in order to marry my close friend’s son, and I merely brought her here for that purpose. Surely we could not bring a pagan into the Grand Temple, could we?”
“…”
Sid’s gaze shifted back toward the pagan woman.
It made no sense.
Celios was the very embodiment of royal arrogance. There was no way she would dirty her hands personally overseeing the conversion of an infidel.
Which meant that veiled pagan woman ought to be Celios’s daughter.
Yet in Luwan, only madmen would imitate pagans and cover their heads. Having grown up strictly within a convent, Celios’s daughter would be the last person to commit such a revolting act.
And yet…
‘Why does that woman arouse my suspicion?’