RAMHM Chapter 133

The Will of the Gods

Epero added his own weight to what Canulla had already set down.

"I was just in the process of informing Her Imperial Majesty the Empress of how serious the situation has become."

"Your Highness!"

"I wonder, Your Eminence, whether you might recall how many donations my mother has poured into the Grand Temple—and how many prayers she has offered—for the six princes she sent ahead of her to Abadhelia."

He would have to recall. There was no other option.

The inner court, administered by Empress Grace, was the Empire's primary institutional channel for temple patronage. However powerless the Empress might be in every other respect, her support of the Grand Temple had exceeded anything achieved by any empress in living memory. She had donated even the personal allowance issued for her own dignity and upkeep—all of it, to the temple—which meant that the relationship between the Grand Temple and Empress Grace could only be warm.

Epero drew a letter from inside his robes and waved it lightly.

"My mother believed entirely in Your Eminence's piety and gave her full support. If this matter is not properly explained and corrected, she intends to seek, through the courts, the return of every coin she donated personally—though of course the inner court's budget is another matter entirely."

He had already reported everything to the Empress. His face, having already tattled everything to the Empress, gleamed with spite.

The Grand Prelate, perhaps deciding that there was nowhere left to retreat now that not only Canulla but Empress Grace herself had entered the field, squeezed his hands together and blinked rapidly. For a brief moment, his face passed through an enormous agony.

"Ah, the audience—there was one—"

"There was."

I confirmed it before he could finish, the way someone who had been waiting for exactly that word would. A sound like quiet cursing grazed my ear—Epero, muttering under his breath.

Canulla's bejeweled cane twitched. The way it does when she is a single moment away from swinging it.

"P-please, hear me out as well!"

Grand Prelate Telrn, unable to contain the pressure any longer, cried out.

"The donation was money for the temple—and given who the Marchioness is, and given the late Crown Prince, how could I refuse an audience to Crown Princess Doris? Is she not, in personal terms, the Marchioness's own granddaughter-in-law?"

"And? So you snatched up the money and told a lie? Did you think this Canulla Winster would permit such a thing?"

"It was not a lie! I saw with my own eyes the Crown Princess receiving a divine oracle!"

"Ah—so what Your Eminence received from Doris Castagna was not money but a divine oracle."

Epero said it softly in Canulla's direction, a cool smile at the edge of it.

A flash of oh no crossed Telrn's face and vanished.

His trembling lips moved, pulling open as if the truth were about to pour through them.

"Y-yes. She prophesied. She prophesied that His Grace Duke Castagna, her own father, would fall gravely ill—without warning."

"A prophecy."

"Surely the Marchioness knows. Prophecy is the domain of the gods. Without a divine oracle, no one can prophesy with that kind of accuracy."

"If I prophesied right now that the Grand Prelate would die on northern soil and then killed him here, does that make me the recipient of a divine oracle? Would that make me a candidate for sainthood?"

Telrn's eyes went round. Epero let out a small sound at Canulla's words—a breath that barely made it out—and mocked Telrn openly.

"That's a fair point from the Marchioness. Shall I try one? Grand Prelate Telrn dies in a carriage accident in the north before he returns to the capital—something like that?"

"S-stop!"

Telrn covered his ears, reeling from the blow.

I studied Canulla and Epero quietly as they exchanged glances, something pointed passing between them.

However close the personal connection, however enormous the donations—the Grand Prelate's position was another form of power in Ronteaux that no one could violate carelessly. But the eyes of Canulla, who had returned before dawn after confirming Empress Letina's remains in the cave, and of Epero, who had shut himself in his room after speaking with Vincento about the six princes—those eyes had already surrendered half their reason. They had made a decision and steeled themselves for it.

I had no choice but to steady myself as well.

I had no choice but to steady my own resolve, too. Hadn't I told Rhodness, to his face, that I'd make him Emperor myself?

Even if all he wanted was my safety, sitting quietly was worse to me than dying.

"Was not Crown Princess Doris a woman of sincere faith—one who attended services at the Grand Temple every week alongside the late Crown Prince? A woman who even harbored the desire to take holy orders? I judged that there was no reason for her to deliberately endanger her own father, who is her greatest source of power. I am, if anything, frightened by those of you who would imagine such terrible things."

Explaining Doris's unilateral actions would require bringing in her conduct and what she had done to Bardenaldo. To Canulla—exposing her grandson's shame. To Epero—the Empress's grief, the shame of the imperial family. Both were burdens.

Everyone was deliberating: where to begin, where to stop, whether it was even safe to speak in front of a Grand Prelate whose own hands were already dirty. Telrn, unable to bear the silence, added something.

"And what the Crown Princess prophesied was not only Duke Castagna's critical illness."

Telrn lowered his voice.

"She also prophesied that monsters would begin appearing in the north. They had always begun in the west, had they not? And now monsters are continuing to appear in the north, one after another. How could I not believe her?"

"Ahh—So the one who received the divine oracle warning of the coming monster threat in the north—telling people to prepare in advance for the danger—wasn't Your Eminence the Grand Prelate. It was Doris."

Telrn's face reddened in an instant. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them.

"C-Crown Princess Doris said that if it came from my mouth, more people would take precautions. I had already confirmed that Duke Castagna fell critically ill, just as predicted. The prophecy had already proven itself—what room was there left to doubt it?"

"So then. To maintain the title of pious Grand Prelate, you announced someone else's prophecy as your own. In return, you conferred the status of saint. Which means that in the end, you accepted a request and issued a false divine oracle—one declaring that a saint would emerge to put down the rumors about the red eyes. Is that not what happened, Your Eminence."

"…"

"Don't tell me that oracle, too, came from Doris."

Telrn could not look at Epero as he drove it home. He dropped to his knees before Canulla, who trembled with restrained rage.

That a figure as senior as the Grand Prelate would kneel without hesitation—I rose abruptly and moved to stop it. It was no use.

"Marchioness! Please. Keep this secret. If I were to retract the oracle, what would become of the temple's authority? It was the first time I had ever seen with my own eyes someone who made two accurate prophecies! In that moment I believed it—that she was the living embodiment of Saint Marini, who exists only in ancient records!"

The scope of Canulla's influence over the temple, I was beginning to understand, was far larger than I had imagined.

I watched Canulla suppress her fury—barely—and fell into deep thought.

The realization that Doris had gone so far as to borrow the power of the gods through the Grand Prelate, all because she wanted to stand at Rhodness's side—it raised goosebumps along my arms.

Duke Castagna, too, had known about the fabricated rebels and the monsters being funneled into the west, and had looked the other way. If Doris had learned that fact, even belatedly—then what?

If she had, she could have found out how to use the mana stones to spread monsters—and moved them to the north.

Spreading monsters in the north to brand Rhodness as an ominous prince.

And, in the same stroke, transforming herself into the only saint capable of managing him—maneuvering to become Crown Princess through the support of those around her. The ambition in it pressed against me like a physical weight.

"Does Your Eminence wish to involve himself in politics?"

I smoothed the goosebumps rising on my arm and turned to Telrn.

Unlike Canulla or Epero, Telrn didn't appear eager to yield to me as well—his expression shifted, just slightly, to one of guarded wariness.

"I act only—for the good of this nation. I must make known the will of the gods, and guide the people along the righteous path."

"Because of what Your Eminence has done, Doris Castagna is positioned to be proclaimed a saint and become the Second Prince's consort—and once again assume the title of Crown Princess. Are you certain you have not involved yourself in politics?"

"Everything moves according to the will of the gods. It is simply the natural order that the one who received the divine oracle becomes a saint."

I grabbed Epero's arm—he had lurched to his feet, ready to shout. Then I rose instead.

Telrn remained on his knees before Canulla, and looked straight up at me.

I did not look away from his gaze. I reached out and rang the bell on the table.

Olivia appeared immediately, peeking around the edge of the drawing room door.

I gave her a nod—the signal—and moved toward Telrn.

"Rather than using something so precious to place Doris alone on the throne as Crown Princess in some paltry scheme..."

And I looked at Telrn, still stiff and unyielding, and smiled.

"What if Your Eminence were to personally champion the Second Prince as the Crown Prince?"

For just a moment—a flash—an intense gleam of desire crossed Telrn's eyes. But only for an instant.

"Hmph. I have no particular stake in who ascends to the Crown Prince's position. I am simply committed to serving the Crown Princess who will become a saint—"

The drawing room door opened again. Canulla was the first to turn her head, and her eyes went wide.

I caught Telrn's gaze before his could shift.

"What would you say if I told you I had brought a dead man back to life?"

"Are you toying with me, calling the Grand Prelate here for this, madam?"

Telrn answered with an expression of open displeasure.

"If one can bring the dead back to life—would that not far outweigh a prophecy that may or may not be fabricated?"

And with that, Count Acacia stepped through the drawing room door.

Tsk—the Grand Prelate clicked his tongue. His gaze drifted toward the door, and then—stopped. Nailed there.

Novian had called Grand Prelate Telrn personally to Count Acacia's funeral, staging the role of a gracious lord. Telrn had presided over the service on the first day of the funeral, over a coffin with no body inside. He could not possibly not recognize Count Acacia.

He had gone personally to bless every room of the estate, where the Count's portrait hung in every corner.

The color drained from his face—a pallor that didn't compare with anything before it—and he rose, swaying, and walked toward the Count as if drawn there against his will.

"A—a dead man—!"

"And now let me make one prophecy myself. It seems I, too, have just received a divine oracle."

The bloodshot eyes Telrn had had only a moment ago reacted to me now with sudden, violent intensity.

"How are you able to—madam—"

"The dead Grand Duchess. Adrienne Trovika. She will awaken soon."

"Madam!"

I had begun the prophecy without asking permission. Telrn's face flushed so red it looked ready to pour blood, and he cried out.

"The true saint, blessed by the gods—Adrienne Trovika—will return from Abadhelia, carrying the will of the divine."

Neither Epero nor Canulla knew that the dead Adrienne was already standing before them. Their shock was absolute.

Canulla's cane slipped from her hand and rolled across the floor. Epero lurched to his feet and moved to stop Adrienne.

She did not step back.

The golden-haired woman in a snow-white house dress and a warm shawl stared down Grand Prelate Telrn without blinking. The presence in it was extraordinary.

"When the one who died returns to life—a truth hidden deep within the imperial palace will surface, and the next sun will shine bright upon Ronteaux."

Telrn, who had already witnessed the miracle of Count Acacia alive before him, had seen one new miracle—and his eyes began to glitter as if in the grip of another.

The corner of Adrienne's lips curved.

If Doris was going to use the will of the gods like this, then Adrienne had no choice but to meet it in kind.

Meeting her gaze—Adrienne's eyes, brilliant and edge-sharp, full of absolute certainty—Telrn forgot for a moment that his mouth was open.

Adrienne's chin tipped up, and kept rising, endless, until it pointed straight at the sky.

"Thus speaks the will of the gods."

The cold look that followed pressed down on him without mercy.