Backwater Princess
While the task of equating the princess of a major noble house to a country bumpkin may seem daunting at first, it is in truth quite possible.
“My! So this is the imperial capital... I’ve only ever seen such crowds at the Winter Solstice Festival.”
Here was one such lady, rolling underneath the grandiose gates of Berylin in her carriage and sounding like a rural hick. Despite her imperial birth, Cecilia’s parents had conformed to Erstreich tradition and sent her away to a Night Goddess monastery before she could even remember. Having spent more than forty years on Fullbright Hill, she was a stranger to urban metropolises.
She’d been to the towns at the foot of the mountain, but those were places where only the most devout gathered. It lacked the emphatic traffic of over one hundred thousand people coming and going every which way.
“Oh, or am I mistaken? Perhaps it is a festival, celebrating a holiday of a god I am unacquainted with.”
“No, my lady, today is unmistakably ordinary. The capital is always like this—crowded and smelly... It isn’t a very livable place.”
The nun smiled sadly at her retainer’s comment. She, too, had joined Cecilia at Fullbright Hill—though she’d spent most of her time at the base of the mountain, seeing as an Immaculate priestess could not be waited on by another—and found the chaotic hustle and bustle of Berylin distasteful beyond belief.
“Don’t say that,” Cecilia said. “Look how full of life they all are. I’m sure the Goddess would be pleased to see her subjects so lively. Perhaps it would be exciting to join them.”
“I would say there ought to be a limit to liveliness. Also, my lady, I apologize, but you are not to step out of the carriage until we arrive at the temple. There are plenty of dangers lurking around here.”
“Do I really look as though I’d walk headfirst into such danger?”
The priestess’s brows drooped to show she was hurt that her loyal vassal would imply such a thing; this time, it was Mechthild’s turn to return a sad smile. Her time serving House Erstreich was long, and the knight had a solid grasp on her master’s personality. Although Cecilia was the picture-perfect maiden raised in an incorruptible tower, Mechthild knew that the character piloting this refined lady was no better than a schoolchild.
If the princess was left to roam free, she was all but guaranteed to wander this way and that, causing a panic everywhere she went. The depths of her curiosity could only be described as the product of inheritance, and her inherent ambivalence toward death would make itself known whether she intended it or not. She wouldn’t get herself killed, but Mechthild was positive she’d cause astounding trouble—she swore not to let her out of her sight.
Ignorant of her servant’s resolution, Cecilia made full use of the magically enchanted one-way window by nearly pressing her nose up against the glass to get a better look of the city.
“What a pretty place,” the vampire said. “There are so many street lamps, and all the buildings are so neatly sorted. I imagine it is a fun place to be.”
“It is nothing more than a facade. I should hope it to be pretty, what with all the tax money that they pour into its upkeep.”
“Oh, Mechthild... Must you be so cynical?”
“It’s who I am.”
Though she took a moment to pout at her retainer for not reciprocating her feelings, Cecilia’s attention quickly returned to the passing scenery of town.
As the carriage quietly rolled along, it finally turned into the tranquil roads of the northern district. Today’s itinerary was for them to visit the capital’s temple of the Night Goddess —technically called the Great Chapel, because it was the foremost on paper—to see the Head Abbess, and then they’d retire to their Berylinian estate.
The lively streets simmered down here, where temples lined every road. Traffic was sparse: most believers went to the churches in the low quarter, meaning the only pedestrians were a handful of silent monks. Other than them, the only things to see were subdued places of worship tuned to not stand out more than the imperial palace.
“I see that even the Circle Brilliant must remain modest here.”
“My lady, I don’t believe an emblem of solid gold can be called modest...”
For those gaudy lovers of Sun who embellished everything within reach to settle for a single golden crest depicting the Father’s rays of dawn was understated indeed. Or at least, Cecilia thought so, having made a pilgrimage to His head temple once before.
“Are those bells? My, it’s as if they’re welcoming us.”
As soon as their carriage pulled up to the Mother’s Great Chapel, the bell towers installed by every temple began to sound. Each god imbued Their bells with different meanings, and sometimes the number of tolls could also carry significance. Of those ringing now, many were simply heralding evening; yet the Goddess of Night’s clear, reverberating gong was an omen of welcome surprise.
Cecilia felt a premonition. Whether it came from her experience as an arm of the Goddess or simply a wordless prophecy from the heavens, she could not say.
All she knew was that a fateful encounter awaited.
“We’ve arrived. Your hand, my lady.”
“Thank you very much.”
With conviction in her heart, the priestess took her first step onto the streets of Berylin.
[Tips] The sound of bells is revered as the voice of the heavens. Not only do they serve the practical purpose of telling time, but they remind the faithful of their gods in their daily lives.
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