The Royal Wedding
The old capital of Osnover was Solna. Solna had been the capital even before he inherited Dithmarschen. The people of this country said that even though the dynasty had changed five times, the capital had never changed. But now that the sixth dynasty had taken the throne, Iselburg had become the capital of Osnover.
Iselburg was a city located at the southern edge of the kingdom. There were few cities in Osnover further south than this. It was practically a border city, and it had only become part of this country about a hundred years ago.
"I've heard the stories, but… this doesn't quite feel like a capital."
Roberta, walking toward the north gate with her three companions, looked over the cityscape. The more she looked, the more it reminded her of Witten. This is supposed to be the capital of a nation?
What had Witten, the central city of Count Meyer's domain, been like? Even from afar, it had looked prosperous. Men and women enjoyed summer leisure on boats along the river flowing beside the city; buildings rose higher than the walls; and even the nightscape had been bright.
Compared to that, Iselburg felt like a small town. It gave off the impression of a provincial city rather than a capital. In fact, that was essentially what it was.
"There's no helping it. There weren't any other options."
"Ah… you said there wasn't any inherited territory, right?"
"Even if there had been, it wouldn't have been something that could be given."
Ulrich rode alongside her as they spoke.
"As you know, His Highness Richard is the Duke's adopted son."
Roberta glanced at him with a strange expression. It was because of his tone. The dwarf Toruhel was right behind them. Using the alias Armin, Ulrich always spoke in a manner that elevated himself, and every time, she felt a sense of dissonance.
"The Duke's domain is Dithmarschen—the gateway to the Ice Peninsula. Passing down such a place wouldn't be helpful at all. It's better to settle somewhere, however small, far from monsters and winter."
Like the Meyer family.
Hohenlohe, the adopted son of Hilde and Ulrich—his descendants married into nobility, obtained land outside Dithmarschen, and cultivated it over centuries to create present-day Witten.
Richard, unlike Meyer, had inherited the throne from the very beginning. He received the crown before any land—starting with nothing but his own body.
"When you think about it that way… this place isn't so bad."
"Yes, it's not bad. Though I wouldn't call it the best."
"How did you even obtain a place like this? Was it part of a dowry?"
"Don't you know how the civil war ended?"
Something suddenly came to mind, and she nodded.
"War spoils."
Near the end of the Osnover civil war, a faction had conquered the kingdom and attacked Dithmarschen, but Ulrich crushed them and brought the war to an end.
"They weren't a faction rooted in Osnover, so there wasn't much to gain. Aside from Iselburg, we only obtained a few regions. Though among them… Solna was included."
Ulrich added that settling in Solna—the former capital of Osnover—would have been the best choice, but Richard had not done so.
"You chose to settle here instead of Solna… because of the Pantheon, didn't you?"
She asked in a quiet voice, but with certainty.
"That's right."
Ulrich had once said that the force that attacked Dithmarschen had been instigated by the Pantheon. That it had been their plan for him to end the civil war and ascend the throne.
Richard must have witnessed it all firsthand. The civil war escalating through the Pantheon's intervention, Count Meyer Wilhelm falling to temptation, and the imperial crown being offered before Ulrich.
There was no way he could feel positively toward the Pantheon. Moreover, Solna was the only city in the country with a Great Cathedral, and it housed an archbishop appointed by the Pantheon.
That was why this ordinary city—Iselburg—had become the capital. It was the base Richard chose to avoid the Pantheon's influence as much as possible.
"Thanks to you, we arrived without being late. Much appreciated!"
After passing through the north gate, the dwarf Toruhel expressed his gratitude. Ulrich dismounted and shook hands with him.
"Have you decided where you'll stay? I'm planning to head straight to the royal palace. If you don't have a place, come along with me."
"We have somewhere else to go."
"I see… then we part ways here."
Speaking with a hint of regret, Toruhel tapped the ground lightly with his foot.
"We'll see each other again soon. There's the wedding, after all."
"Right, you said you'd be attending as well? Then I'll see you there."
The dwarf turned and left.
Fritz watched him walk away before speaking.
"Lord Ulrich… are you sure about this?"
He didn't say the rest, but it was clear enough. Was it really alright not to reveal the truth to Toruhel Aladelione? After all, he was a descendant of a slave Ulrich had saved long ago under the name Selim.
The dwarf from a mountain pass in the Esta-Mauneto range still remembered Selim even after all this time. Yet he walked away without realizing that Selim was alive—and standing right before him. They had said they would meet again soon, but they might miss each other.
"It's not always a good thing to know each other. Even if I don't reveal myself, if there is a bond, he will come to know."
Ulrich looked toward Toruhel. Roberta noticed the faint smile that appeared at the corner of his lips.
"I hope so."
Fritz scratched the back of his head. His expression showed lingering regret. It seemed he felt a sense of kinship—after all, both the Meyer family and the dwarves of Esta-Mauneto shared a history of receiving mercy from the same man.
"You said earlier you had somewhere else to go?"
"That was just something I said to separate from Toruhel. We'll have to find a place to stay starting now."
"If it's alright with you, would you like to stay at our estate? There's a residence my father uses when he stays here. It would be far better than an inn."
Ulrich rested his hand on his chin.
"Someone might recognize me."
As if something had just occurred to him, Fritz let out an "Ah."
"Will you continue using an alias?"
"If possible, I intend to do so until the wedding."
"Then I'll introduce you as Lord Armin. You don't need to worry. No one even recognized you back at the main house. Besides, all the servants here are locals."
Ulrich nodded, then looked at Roberta as if asking for her opinion. She nodded as well.
"I'll stop by the temple first before heading there. There's something I need to check."
After parting from the group and walking for a while, Roberta stopped in front of the temple's main gate. The doors were tightly shut. Instead of entering immediately, she looked around. There was no one in sight. Whether in a large city or a small one, there were always people lingering around a temple—but here, only silence remained.
So this place followed the summons as well.
She clicked her tongue inwardly. She had come here with a faint hope, but it seemed this too would end in disappointment. The reason she had left the group to visit the temple was to meet a priest.
Throughout her journey, she had not encountered a single priest of the Pantheon. It was because of the summons. The Pantheon had called back all priests in Osnover.
At the very least, I thought some would remain in the capital…
The conflict between the Empire and the Holy Church had reached its peak. The Emperor had convened the Holy Church to change the method of electing the Pope—so that the Kormillius family could no longer monopolize both the nomination and selection.
It was a challenge to an authority that no one had dared to touch since the founding of the Third Empire. And amid all this, King Richard of Osnover had lent his support—so the Pantheon issued the summons as retaliation.
"Is anyone here?"
Roberta slightly opened the main gate, leaned her head inside, and raised her voice. There was no answer. Her call echoed faintly as if shouted into emptiness.
The interior of the temple felt stifling. All the windows and doors had been shut, trapping the summer heat inside. As she stepped into the nave, her breath felt heavy and constricted.
"Excuse me! Is anyone here?"
Raising her voice again, she walked along the central aisle. Long benches lined both sides for the faithful to sit upon, but there was no dust. It seemed someone was still maintaining the place.
However, there was no one here at the moment. No voices, no approaching footsteps—nothing. After wandering around for a while, she stepped up to the altar at the end of the aisle.
The altar was covered with a purple cloth, and several extinguished candles were placed upon it. Each one symbolized a heavenly god, so she lit them all and offered a prayer.
After a moment, she heard footsteps.
"Oh… my, it was a priest."
The owner of the footsteps was indeed a priest. The moment Roberta saw the color of his robes, she flinched. Red was the symbol of an archbishop—and there was only one archbishop in Osnover.
Vinicio.
She silently recalled his name. Though he was an elderly man, he walked toward her with a straight back and long, steady strides.
"Greetings, Your Excellency."
Suppressing her surprise, she knelt on one knee, bowed her head, and placed her right hand on her chest. Archbishop Vinicio helped her up, and they exchanged a light embrace.
"It's a pleasure, priest. Where have you come from?"
"My name is Roberta, and I have come from Dithmarschen."
The archbishop flinched, his eyes widening.
"Dithmarschen?"
Is there a reason for him to be surprised? Roberta thought, observing him without showing it.
"Yes. I was appointed as the chief priest there under His Holiness's orders."
"I see. I am aware. I have heard much about you. Priest Roberta—you were assigned as the successor to the missing Clemens. On Alonso's recommendation. I was actually planning to summon you soon, but for it to happen so perfectly…"
"You were planning to summon me…?"
"Ah, before that, let me ask one thing. By any chance… has he come with you as well?"
At the word he, she hesitated.
"…Pardon?"
Her intuition immediately pointed to Ulrich. But reason objected. Why would an archbishop refer to the Duke of Dithmarschen in such a way? Was it because Ulrich was King Richard's father? Or… because he knew Ulrich's past?
She sifted through the names Ulrich had used. None of them seemed like ones an archbishop would speak of with such reverence. Even so, already knowing the likely answer, she asked cautiously:
"Whom do you mean by 'he'?"
"You do not know, priest?"
The archbishop looked directly at her.
"I am referring to Ulrich, the Duke of Dithmarschen."
As expected, she thought. The archbishop knew a name she herself knew—but had never been certain of.
"I… am not sure how I should answer."
"…It seems Alonso told you nothing."
Murmuring to himself, the archbishop covered his mouth and pondered. It was clear he was hesitating over whether to speak or not, repeatedly scanning her expression.
"First, priest—tell me what you know about him. At the very least, you must know that he does not have just one name. You've spent more than a year there, after all."
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com