Astalion was a small frontier nation classified as a minor power within the alliance.
There were no notable features, and its relationships with neighboring kingdoms were amicable, making it a kingdom without much conflict.
People generally recognized it as a peaceful and quiet country.
It was a widely known fact, even within the church, that Bersia was originally a princess from that country.
From the beginning, her surname, Astalion, was the name of the kingdom itself, so unless one was a fool, it was impossible not to know.
However, Bersia never showed any sense of authority because of this.
More than that, she never mentioned to others that she was of royal descent.
For that reason, it was something that could easily be forgotten.
Usher was one of those who had forgotten.
“Family, huh…”
He felt a slight sinking sensation in his chest.
It was no surprise—when looking back at past events, it was clear that Bersia didn’t hold particularly fond feelings toward her homeland.
He wasn’t a fool, and having spent so much time with her, he couldn’t have missed such an obvious fact.
Most notably, whenever she was alone with the pope, who knew her past, she reacted as if she was having a seizure.
Just from that alone, it was easy to infer.
Even without knowing all the details, it was evident that her relationship with her family was anything but good.
Their reunion would likely not be a pleasant one.
Still, avoiding it wasn’t an option.
Thus, a plan was necessary.
First and foremost, Bersia had to be informed of the situation.
Whether she wanted to talk about her family was up to her, but at the very least, she needed guidance on how to act.
The problem was how to bring up the topic with her.
Usher spent the day grappling with that dilemma.
Eventually, he thought of someone he could consult.
After dinner, once Bersia had left, he approached the high priest.
“May I visit the chapel for a moment?”
“Oh! Evening prayers! How wonderful! You truly embody the devout spirit of a saint!”
The high priest was overjoyed.
Even so, shedding tears of emotion just because a saint visited the chapel?
It really highlighted how distant the saints of past and present generations had been from true devotion.
Regardless, it worked out well for Usher.
He awkwardly smiled and left his quarters, making his way to the chapel.
Fortunately, the person he was looking for was there.
“Your Holiness!”
“Oh, oh, Saint… Hmm, Sir Therbion, I see.”
“Hehe…”
Usher scratched the back of his head, feeling embarrassed.
He felt at ease.
After all, apart from Bersia, this was the only person in the world with whom he didn’t need to hide his true identity.
Pope Igor smiled.
“What brings you here? Is something troubling you?”
“You saw right through me.”
Usher’s shoulders slumped.
Igor pulled out a piece of bread wrapped in paper from his robes.
“As it happens, I have some bread today. Would you like to talk while eating?”
“Ah! Thank you, Your Holiness!”
Thus, the consultation began.
Usher explained the situation—the Astalion royal family’s attendance and his concerns about how to inform Bersia.
Igor understood his concerns deeply.
“Their relationship is not good, is it? It’s understandable why you’re worried.”
He chuckled lightly.
Usher let out a deep sigh.
It was a relief that he didn’t have to explain the background details.
After all, it was Igor who had brought Bersia into the church in the first place.
Of course, Usher had no intention of prying into Bersia’s past.
That would be a violation of the promise he had made to her.
He hadn’t forgotten how Bersia reacted during her last encounter with Igor.
Doing something against her wishes would be disrespectful.
He didn’t want to betray the trust between them.
Sensing his thoughts, Igor smiled warmly.
“I’m glad the saint has found such a reliable guardian.”
“You flatter me…!”
“There’s no need for humility. You’ve done something worthy of praise.”
Tearing off a piece of raisin bread, he handed it to Usher.
“Hmm, yes, I see your dilemma. If you bring it up carelessly, it could create a bad atmosphere.”
“Exactly.”
“However, at times like these, facing the problem head-on is the most important approach, don’t you think?”
Igor popped the bread into his mouth.
A satisfied expression spread across his face.
“The best help I can offer… Well, I do have a list of names of the guests arriving from Astalion. I can prepare it for you.
Why not be honest with the saint?
Tell her, ‘Guests are coming from your homeland, and I don’t know how to handle the situation. I need your help.’”
In the end, the only real option was the direct approach.
And indeed, there was no better, more understandable solution.
How exactly a list of names would help was uncertain.
Think carefully.
Isn’t it possible that the reason Igor is giving this to Bersia is to reassure her that there is no one on the list she would find objectionable?
That was the only possible reason I could think of for his help.
I glanced at him, but he seemed unwilling to say anything more.
“Words spoken incorrectly can sometimes become stains that cannot be erased.
One thing I have realized after all these years is that every word must be spoken with great caution.”
Igor’s smile was calm.
Usher decided not to ask any more difficult questions in respect of his words.
The meeting ended there.
Usher received the personnel list.
A quick glance revealed the current ruler, the Queen—presumably Bersia’s mother—among the names, while the rest were unfamiliar.
There was one First-Class Holy Knight from the central religious order of the alliance, but it was impossible to memorize all the key figures of every distant kingdom.
That night passed in that manner.
The next morning, after dawn prayers, and spending time as usual with the constantly feuding saintesses, Usher returned to his quarters after lunch.
Then, at that moment, he handed the personnel list to Bersia when they were alone.
“What is this?”
“Would you check it, please?”
Bersia accepted the list as if it were nothing special and examined it.
Immediately, her expression hardened.
The coldness in her demeanor was enough to freeze the air.
It was clear.
She despised even looking at these names.
Usher clenched his fists tightly.
Then, he spoke.
“At this Holy Festival, the royal family of Astalion will be attending.
They are your people, Your Holiness.”
“As I mentioned before regarding past matters, I will not ask if you do not wish to discuss them.
However, you must know that facing them is inevitable.
At the very least, could you give me some guidance on how I should act?”
Bersia continued to stare at the list.
Even a fool could recognize the intense hostility radiating from her.
Her words spilled out as if she were biting them off.
“…How shameless.”
“….”
“No, I wasn’t talking about you, Sir Knight.”
Bersia closed the personnel list.
She closed her eyes as if trying to suppress her emotions, then let out a bitter smile.
“Yes, I suppose that’s necessary.
One way or another.”
Usher glanced at her face.
Her expression seemed somewhat sorrowful.
Four days before the Holy Festival, guests from outside began to arrive.
The strict internal regulations became slightly more relaxed.
With the arrival of external guests, adjustments to the schedule had to be made accordingly.
Usher, too, had more freedom than before.
Though the meals were still unsatisfactory and the days felt long, there was no helping it.
One might have expected a wave of sadness to wash over him again, but strangely, it did not.
Today was the day.
The royal family of Astalion was arriving.
Usher stood with Bersia at the entrance of the religious order.
In front of the grand arch-shaped gate, the Holy Knights stood in formation, maintaining security.
Standing at the center, Usher was dressed in ceremonial robes, while Bersia was clad in full armor.
The wait was not long.
In the distance, carriages bearing the Astalion royal insignia approached in a straight line.
Usher felt tense.
Bersia remained expressionless.
The carriages drew closer and eventually stopped before the gate.
Then—click—the door of the central carriage opened.
A noble-looking middle-aged woman stepped out.
And to Usher, she seemed somewhat—no, very—familiar.
Her light sky-blue hair, green eyes, and everything else closely resembled Bersia.
Hermion de Astalion.
The current Queen of the kingdom and Bersia’s biological mother stood there.
“Just act as you normally do.
I’ll handle most things.”
Bersia had said this earlier, explaining that since she had left at such a young age, the Queen would likely not recognize the changes in her.
Queen Hermion raised her head and looked at Usher.
Immediately, her eyes filled with deep sorrow as she hastened her steps forward.
At the moment she moved to embrace her—
“Ber…”
Swish—!
Bersia drew her sword, blocking the space between Usher and Hermion.
Hermion’s expression hardened.
Usher was also inwardly startled.
Bersia’s aura was as sharp as a finely honed blade.
In the tense atmosphere, she spoke in a firm voice.
“Please refrain from touching the Saint.
It is a dangerous time.”
Though it was phrased as a request, it was undoubtedly a warning.