The Royal Wedding
Moving quickly—but not so hastily as to draw attention—Roberta left the hall and headed toward the southern gate of the city.
Fritz followed close behind her. From the moment the attendant had whispered the message to her, the boy had been watching closely, and when her eyes widened, he too grew tense.
Even though the whispered words had been drowned out by the noise of the hall, the boy grasped their meaning and looked at her with expectation and longing. Since there had been no instruction that she must come alone, she simply gave a small nod without a word.
Ulrich was wandering near the stalls and street vendors by the southern gate. When the two spotted him and approached, he began walking down the street, and Roberta fell into step beside him and asked,
"I thought you had already left."
Her tone came out more blunt than she intended.
"I did consider it. I thought that might be fine as well."
"Then… is there a reason you decided not to?"
"It occurred to me that it might be a bit too hasty."
She stared intently at his profile.
"Where have you been these past two days?"
"I was tracking someone—the instigator we failed to find."
The instigator referred to the heretic who had murdered the archbishop and caused the massive flow of mana. Ulrich took out two silver bracelets from his sleeve and handed them to her.
When she examined one, she saw an engraving on the inside—a hand holding a torch. It was the symbol of Hestio, and also the same emblem engraved on the ring of Galua, who had attacked the village before. The three captured heretics had also possessed items bearing that same mark.
It meant that the one Ulrich had tracked was a heretic—and had died like Galua.
"It's unfortunate you couldn't capture them alive, but still, this is a relief. This means we've effectively eliminated those responsible for this incident. The non-deification faction—the heretics—won't be able to reach into this country for a while."
"It would have been the same even if I hadn't caught them."
"…What? What do you mean by that?"
"There was no need."
When she looked at him silently, expecting an explanation, he turned into an alley and continued.
"Roberta, what do you think their objective is?"
"To bring down the Kormilius lineage."
"And along with it, everything that lineage has built," she added.
"That's right. To do so, they weakened the Holy Church—which is essentially Kormilius itself—and drove a wedge between it and the empire of the Jokuster dynasty, which that lineage had established."
That was also why the non-deification faction—the heretics—had intervened in Osnover. Since the king of Osnover stood in opposition to the Kormilius lineage, they had maneuvered things so that the king would take control of the kingdom's political situation.
"And the moment civil war broke out in this country, Osnover, their objective was effectively achieved. Even if Richard didn't win, would the damage have been small?"
"Of course not."
Had the nobles of the Pantheon brought their armies all the way to the capital only to hesitate for no reason? It was because the Hilderson clan supported Richard, making victory difficult—and even if they won, it would not truly be a victory.
Thus, as Ulrich said, the moment civil war began, it was certain that the Pantheon's power would be weakened, no matter which side prevailed.
"But even if they achieved their goal, wouldn't this outcome still be unfavorable for them? Their involvement in inciting the civil war will become known."
The Kingdom of Osnover would continue to oppose Kormilius, but at the same time, it would surely come to oppose the non-deification faction as well.
"Well… it's not that simple." Ulrich stopped walking. The three of them stood at the entrance of the alley leading to the main road, with the royal palace visible in the distance.
Roberta looked toward the palace, then shifted her gaze back to Ulrich.
"Won't you attend?"
"There are too many eyes on me. Even in disguise, I'd be recognized."
Ever since he had revealed his power, too many people had been searching for him.
"His Highness Richard seemed disappointed."
"I've sent word. That child will understand. He knows that this is how I've always been. Besides… who knows? We may meet again under a different name."
Ulrich turned his back and began walking back down the alley they had come from. Roberta and Fritz followed a few steps behind him.
"Lord Ulrich."
She recalled what he had just said—a different name—and then asked,
"Who are you?"
He kept walking without answering, and she pressed on.
"I know you have many names. I know the names I know are only a small part of them. And even those names—I don't truly understand them."
There were even cases where she could only guess at his identity through his deeds alone.
Like the story he had once worn the imperial diadem. She had asked Richard and Wilhelm, but they had avoided answering, so she still did not know the name tied to that past.
"Please tell me. Who are you? What should I call you? Don't you have an identity you consider your own?"
She knew why he remained silent. He had said it himself—that if his past were revealed, the way people looked at him would change, and he did not want that.
The past defining the present—he must have feared that even she would see him differently. That was why, when she sought the truth, he deflected and told her to find it herself.
"I know why you won't say it. But you know this too, don't you? I already know far too much for something like that to matter now."
What had he told her on the very first day of her appointment?
When she suspected he might be of mixed blood, he had said he was a pure human. If purity meant having no non-human blood in one's ancestry, then he claimed to be the purest of humans.
And he possessed the power to alter the celestial register. He neither aged nor died. And he had deep ties to the direct line of Kormilius.
What did all of this point to?
"Do you really think I can't figure out who you are? You told me yourself that wasn't the case. In the village blessed by Kunkan, I saw the answer—and that I would be able to reach the conclusion on my own."
"…Yes, I did say that. But why ask now?"
Only then did Ulrich stop walking, though he did not turn around.
"It's so absurd it's hard to believe, so I kept putting it off. And because I believed there was still time left for me to stay with you… because I wanted to know more, I kept delaying it. But if you're leaving now… then I need to hear the answer."
Who are you? she asked once more.
"…I see."
Ulrich's shoulders trembled.
Roberta and Fritz widened their eyes in surprise as they stared at his back.
The sound was quiet, yet unmistakably laughter. It was so rare for him to reveal his emotions this clearly that she could not help but be surprised. After his laughter subsided, he turned and faced her.
"I must correct myself. I once said you resembled Alonso, but I was mistaken. Unlike him, you are not one to run away—you are simply cautious. Tell me, who do you think I am?"
She tried to answer immediately, but hesitated. Only a single name was clear in her mind, yet it would not leave her lips. She let out a long breath before carefully replying.
"Hestio… I believe you are him."
Fritz flinched, glancing back and forth between Roberta and Ulrich. He was of the Hilderson clan—moreover, a direct descendant of the Meyer family—yet perhaps he had not realized the truth due to his youth.
Ulrich showed no change at all. He simply faced her with a faint smile, offering nothing she could read from his expression.
"I see."
At last, he nodded.
"It's only natural you would think so."
Something about his tone felt strange.
"Roberta, what is the alias I'm currently using?"
"Ulrich Dithmarschen."
"No, not that."
"…Armin."
He nodded again.
"I believe I once told you why I use that name."
She looked at him, a realization dawning.
He had once said that when there was a name he wished not to be forgotten, he would borrow another's name—and that Armin was one of those names. Why was he bringing that up now?
"Before you make a firm conclusion, did you ever consider the possibility of doubt?"
She was about to say that she had, but he continued first.
"Do you truly believe that the name you spoke of belongs solely to me? If you are so certain, then why?"
"Because you spoke of things only that person could know, and you performed feats that no one else could. Who would think someone with such knowledge and power could be anything but that one individual?"
She watched his expression closely.
"Or perhaps," he said, "two individuals' deeds have become intertwined and passed down under a single name. Have you never considered that?"
She searched his face for any sign—was he deflecting to avoid answering, or pointing out her mistake? She tried to read his true intent.
But she could not. As always, his emotions were faint, and now even the faint smile had vanished. He simply spoke calmly.
"Knowledge might be explained that way, but what about ability?"
"If you consider how receiving the sacred rite allows one to perform other rites, then wouldn't it follow that what you call 'ability' could also be transferred?"
Roberta felt her mouth fall open, yet she could not close it. She had no room for composure. Her mind reeled.
That couldn't be true. There were too many contradictions.
"…Then… does that mean I'm wrong?"
Her voice was desperate as she stepped forward. She looked straight at him, as if she might reach out and seize him at any moment.
"You're not wrong."
At his immediate answer, her eyes widened.
"The name I received from Dieus, after being taken in by Ganymea—that is indeed my former name. However, beyond the connection between that name and myself, you know nothing."
His calm gaze looked down at her.
"You cannot even guess whether I borrowed the name, or inherited the talent. That is why a few words from me were enough to shake your certainty."
"Then… what you said just now—?"
Was he merely testing her? Before she could finish, he shook his head.
"I told you before—you may ask questions at any time, but only after thinking deeply. Compared to the depth of the answer, your question is shallow. You would do better to simply listen, like Fritz here."
Fritz scratched his head awkwardly. There was no shock on his face—only his usual bright-eyed attentiveness as he listened.
"Then—"
"Listen to the end."
Cutting her off, Ulrich continued.
"From the age of the gods to that of dwarves, elves, and humans, every shift of era brought immense chaos. At times, calamities came that wiped out entire civilizations. No matter how many traces I leave behind, so few records of past ages remain that you have no way of knowing more about me."
"…."
"However, beyond this country, there are other opportunities. The children of the first dragon, Luobeidra, live in hiding. Among them are those whose lineage carries my former name, and there are bloodlines that have inherited my legacy. You have not met them yet—but your chance will come. Through them, you may come to know me better. And more importantly—you said you asked because I am leaving, did you not?"
She nodded silently.
"If I were not leaving, there would be no need for you to ask, would there?"
"…You're not leaving?"
"Not yet. It is still too soon." He paused. "And so, I would like to make you an offer. I wish to extend the journey we agreed upon—to Iselburg."
"To the Pantheon as well," he added. "This is not an order."
From his robes, Ulrich took out a crumpled letter. It was the papal decree that had forced Roberta to leave Dithmarschen. Showing it to her, he tore it apart.
"Do not worry about the parish. Bernhardt will take your place."
Within those words lay the implication that Bernhardt had been ordained without her knowing. But she had neither the time nor the will to question it.
Her certainty had been proven true—yet it had only given rise to new doubts, shaking her entirely.
Without even noticing Fritz tugging at her sleeve, she stared at the torn decree scattered on the ground. Only after a long moment did she speak.
"From now on… what should I call you?"
She was asking what she should call him once they left Osnover.
"Continue to call me Ulrich."
He added that at times he might become Armin again—or perhaps take up names he had once used before, such as Cesar, Laurent, or Selim.
"But for now," he said with a faint smile, "I am still the lord of Dithmarschen—and the husband of Hilde, whom I loved."
With that, he turned and walked toward the southern gate of the city.
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