A Meeting On The Hill

It was a night of the full moon.

Recently, Yodel, who had grown irritable and weary of everything, once again sought out Christoph during his studies, picking fights and shouting not only at him but also at his tutor.

Unable to contain his rage, Yodel stormed out, went straight to his chamber, and collapsed into sleep.

“Since breakfast, he hasn’t eaten anything at all, only flying into rages like this. He seems terribly exhausted by state affairs these days.”

Trying to comfort the furious Christoph, Hilde offered something like an excuse on behalf of the short-tempered lord.

“State affairs, hah! As if Father is even ruling as a lord anymore!”

After a restless night, Christoph slipped quietly out of his room and wandered aimlessly, until at last he climbed the hill behind the Grand Cathedral for the first time.

“So there was a place like this.”

Fortunately, it seemed others had walked here as well—the footpath was clearly marked, and the full moon shed enough light.

At the top, the dense trees gave way to an open space of rocks and grass.

The autumn night breeze was cool.

Seated on the grass, he looked at the long walls of the Duchy of Nastrand, faintly lit by guards pacing with torches.

Christoph lay back, gazed at the night sky, and dozed off. After some time, a presence climbing up below startled him awake.

Embarrassed by both his rank and the unexpected place and time, Christoph quickly hid behind a jutting rock. At that moment, someone else reached the hilltop.

‘Ly… Lyset!!!???’

Christoph nearly shouted in shock but barely managed to cover his mouth.

It was clearly Lyset in her Holy Sister’s habit.

But her eyes, lost in some mysterious trance, gazed up at the sky unfocused.

The bone-strung necklace at her throat glimmered in the moonlight. A wolf’s howl drifted from somewhere, and the wind itself seemed to halt.

Lyset rose to her toes, circling, lifting and lowering her hands, and then parted her lips.

“Bright moonlit sky,

“Rising. Rising.

“Warriors who worship Olrun.

“Calling. Calling.

“Maidens who long for His daughter.

“Dancing. Dancing.

“Blooming trees and flowers.

“Pouring forth. Pouring forth.

“The radiance of the moon and stars.”

It was a song Christoph had never heard and a dance he had never seen.

But wholly entranced by Lyset, Christoph failed to notice words like “Olrun” or “his daughter” in the song—remnants of the old gods.

After the hymn to the night, Lyset moved again with hazy eyes, in gestures unlike before. Like a woodland fairy, like the “elves” Christoph had once read about in a childhood tale—though that heretical book had later been destroyed and the maid who failed to hide it flogged and cast out—Lyset danced in beauty.

The necklace rattled faintly.

Her blue eyes glimmered with mystery as they swept across the stars. Once the sacred yet primeval rite ended, Lyset’s eyes snapped open.

“Ah!”

Letting out a short gasp, Lyset stared at the full moon, then slowly removed the necklace and lifted it reverently with both hands toward the sky.

After standing there for some time, she donned the necklace again, tucked it beneath her habit, and descended the hill.

Only when Lyset vanished completely from the hill did Christoph emerge from behind the rock.

“Lyset…”

Christoph could not believe what he had seen.

It wasn’t the ritual-like dance or incomprehensible song that shocked him.

It was the astonishment of meeting here—amid his confusion and grief—the very girl he always longed for, whom he could only glimpse a few times a year in restricted places.

This staggering coincidence etched itself into the storm-tossed Christoph like fate itself.

“Lyset, Lyset… this is surely destiny.”

Christoph whispered in ecstasy.

“One day, I will have you by my side—if I must tear down the Cathedral and the convent itself to do it!”

From then on, Christoph often climbed the hill alone past midnight, but he never saw Lyset again, as if that first encounter had been a dream.

Not knowing that Lyset only ascended on nights of the full moon, Christoph grew restless. Eventually, he began to think it had been nothing more than a delusion born from his longing.

But at last, Christoph’s persistence was rewarded.

For his final attempt happened to fall exactly one month after his first sight of Lyset—on another full moon night.

‘Will she not come this time either? Was it truly just my imagination, or nothing more than a single night’s outing…?’

As the weather had grown sharply cold, Christoph sat on the dry grass with a sigh, lost in thought.

Then a rustling sound came from below.

At once, Christoph knew instinctively that it was Lyset.

Sure enough, as he hid breathlessly behind the rock, Lyset appeared in her Holy Sister’s habit once again, ascending with a vacant look, and began to dance.

When her dance was finished, the mystical light faded from her eyes. With a sigh, she turned to leave.

“Lyset.”

“…!!!”

Hearing her name called from the darkness, Lyset flinched in shock and turned around.

From behind the rock at the moonlit summit stepped a young man—Christoph.

Lyset’s heart pounded wildly.

Panic overtook her—the terror of having her secret five-year rite discovered, mixed with the bewildering miracle that the one who had always gazed at her, the one she herself secretly cherished, now stood here in this time and place.

“Lyset…”

At the sound of her name again, Lyset looked at Christoph.

The bright moonlight revealed his red-gold hair and sculpted face. Lyset could not avert her eyes from his gaze.

‘Impossible. To forget him, to turn away from him—it’s impossible. Olrun, Manafreya! What am I to do?’

Lyset’s lips slowly parted.

“Christoph… My Lord.”

“You may call me Christoph.”

“B-but… you are the Young Lord and heir of this Duchy…”

As she said it, Lyset was struck again by the dreadful truth—that Christoph was the heir to the duchy she was destined to destroy.

Her feet shuffled backward hesitantly.

“Lyset! Please, let me speak with you.”

“No, no! I have nothing to say!”

“Just a moment—”

But with eyes full of near-terror, Lyset turned and fled down into the dark.

Seeing her flee, Christoph felt a burning certainty—if he did not stop her now, he would never see her again. She would hide herself, never return to this hill, not even attend the Grand Mass. In other words—she would avoid him.

Christoph charged after Lyset in desperation.

His strides were far quicker than hers; she had barely descended when he caught her by the arm.

“L-let me go, My Lord Christoph!”

“Speak with me, Lyset!”

“I told you, I have nothing to say.”

“But I do!”

Christoph spun her around roughly.

Yet standing before her, he found no words.

Above all, both Christoph and Lyset were still young. In Nastrand, they would not be considered adults for another year.

And she was a Holy Sister… the most important fact of all.

Christoph knew full well: once ordained, a Holy Sister could never shed that status. Not even if he became Duke and ruler tomorrow could he simply command it away.

“Lyset… let me ask you. Do you truly want to live as a nun forever?”

Lyset stared at him in surprise. Christoph cursed himself inwardly for asking what must be the stupidest question in the world.

The astonishingly bright moonlight lit their flushed cheeks.

They stood in silence for a long while. Then Lyset slowly spoke.

“My Lord Christoph… no, I do not wish to live as a nun forever.”

Christoph seized his courage.

“Th-then, Lyset… what do you think of me?”

“My Lord Christoph… sadly, I am a Holy Sister.”

With that answer, Lyset turned and ran down the hill again.

This time, Christoph did not stop her.

Her words—she did not want to live forever as a nun, yet sadly she was one—and the complicated light in her eyes when she spoke them…

That was all the confirmation he needed.

The rest was as his mother had said: he needed only to build strength, seize power, and change it. There would be some way, some opening to break the rules. For both him and Lyset, there was still plenty of time.

Christoph’s eyes burned with towering ambition and desire.

Two major changes occurred in Christoph’s life.

The first was that he began visiting his mother, the Duchess, in her chambers every day.

Surprisingly, the roles of Duchess and heir to the Duchy made their relationship unlike that of an ordinary mother and son—formalities and etiquette imposed a strange distance.

Moreover, to the Duchess—renowned for her brilliance, even openly acknowledged by others—Christoph, quiet and reserved, had been little more than a disappointing son until a year ago.

But now, the way she looked at Christoph had completely transformed.

Her son’s pure desire, and the immense power and challenges he would have to overcome to attain it…

Watching him achieve those step by step with her guidance was, to her, the unfolding of her own genius.

‘The most entertaining game of my life. First, I must lay the board perfectly.’

And so began the secret poisoning of the Duke.

The effect was splendid.

Whether it was attacking his nervous system or not, his temper worsened noticeably, his appetite declined, and when he lay down, he was seized by such weakness that he could hardly rise again.

Many physicians came, but none could identify the illness; all they could do was prescribe strengthening herbs and recommend full-body steam baths.

‘The effect is certain.’

On top of that, Christoph’s daily visits and long conversations brought the Duchess immense delight.

Most of the conversations were Christoph’s questions—some of them dangerously bold—so the Duchess dismissed Olga from the room each time.

While Olga and Hilde waited outside in the garden parlor drinking tea, mother and son conversed about the essence and nature of power, and about the Cathedral and the order of Holy Sisters.

“So then—is there truly no way to completely separate and dismantle the Cathedral and the convent of Holy Sisters within Nastrand?”

At this refreshingly direct question, the Duchess almost laughed with pride.

“A very good question. The most important thing is that the Cathedral and convent must lose their sanctity. If that happens, the Holy Empire—that is, the Papacy—could reject them and revoke the authority and glory once granted.”

“To strip them of power by the Papacy (Papal See)…”

“Of course, the Papacy would eventually restore and rebuild them. But depending on the urgency, the Duchy could act first and later report it to the Papacy, receiving retroactive sanction.”

“What kind of event could that be?”

“That is for you, the future Duke, to think of yourself. Ambition anyone can have—but without effort, it remains mere delusion.”

“I understand.”

“My Christoph. Perhaps I have not borne merely an heir, but one who will become a great dragon. May you be your mother’s pride. I shall teach you, little by little, the heart of a sovereign.”

“I ask it of you, Mother.”

A smile curved the Duchess’s lips as she looked at Christoph.

“And that all this is for the sake of winning a single woman—what tale could be more magnificent than that?”