Each One’s Preparations

“Ahh! Ah…”

While pushing the book cart, Lyset stopped, unable to bear the discomfort in her lower abdomen.

After carefully opening the door and sending Christoph away earlier, she quickly rolled up the soiled bedsheets, hid them in a corner, and laid out fresh ones. The ruined undergarments—she couldn’t even think of putting them back on.

“Hm? Sister Lyset, what’s wrong?”

An elderly priest arranging books ahead tilted his head.

“Ah! I-I don’t feel well.”

“Hm, I see. Ah yes! Sister Lyset, weren’t you in the special choir tomorrow?”

“Yes! And I’ve been assigned the response for tomorrow’s coronation.”

“Hmm… then you should stop for today and go rest. I’ll inform Father Odense.”

“Thank you, Father Herding. May peace be with you in the Lord.”

Lyset crossed herself, returned the cart, and carefully went back to her quarters.

As soon as she lay on her bed, the overwhelming rapture from earlier swept through her body again.

“Ahh, Christoph…”

The kiss, the embrace. His caresses so sweet they defied words—and their union.

His traces still lingered within her. Surely his scent remained in every corner of her.

Lyset flushed all over, the afterglow rising again.

“Haah…”

As she wore a dazed expression, suddenly a jolt shot through her mind.

‘That’s right! He said something would happen here tomorrow—and that the day after, he must leave far away. He said it would cost his life.’

What it was, Lyset had no idea.

But now she and Christoph were ‘joined.’ Thus the prophecy would flow smoothly.

‘The great events to come… the new kingdom and the divine world we will found together.’

Lyset’s eyes shimmered with a brilliant blue.

‘Please let it be so. I offer all of myself.’

She gazed toward Yotun Mountain, home of Olrun and Manafreya.

She wished this happiness would last tomorrow, the next day, and beyond. But as Christoph said, from the day after tomorrow she would be left alone, unable to see him.

Worry and loneliness belatedly welled up.

“Meal!”

A short cry came from afar.

“With the daily bread the Lord gives, today too this sinner’s life is sustained.”

A prisoner’s voice muttered weakly.

Two serving Sisters in the dungeon—faces hidden but for their eyes—set down meager meals before each cell’s prayer-room door and knocked, signaling to take the food.

When their turn came, the confined Sisters slid open the small hatch below, reached out for the dish, and recited words of thanks.

Lest bonds form with the imprisoned Sisters, the servers covered themselves head to toe in cloth, leaving only tiny holes—eyes invisible.

Hearing the sound, Roze staggered to her feet.

Her tiny cell had no bed—only a single candle, a desk, a chamber pot, and a blanket.

She no longer knew how many days she had been there. Her sense of time blurred, and the poor food brought serious malnutrition.

Worst of all was the stench.

Not only her own waste, but the stench from dozens of cells was unimaginable.

‘Food… food is here.’

Her last meal had been a boiled potato and half a carrot. Hunger had made her vision blacken when she rose.

Still, she had to eat something and endure.

Surely Lyset, Adelin, or Iselin had read what she had written, and understood its meaning.

Thump thump!

“Meal!”

It was her cell.

Roze barely slid it open—it took great effort now.

“With the daily bread the Lord gives, today too this sinner’s life is sustained.”

She muttered weakly and reached for the turnip set before the hatch.

At that moment—

Snatch!

Her hand was seized by the serving Sister.

Startled, Roze saw the two servers bend low to peer at her through the hatch.

One put a finger to her hood as if to hush her.

When Roze nodded instinctively, the Sisters removed their hoods. It was Adelin and Iselin.

“…!!!”

Seeing Roze’s gaunt face, tears welled in their eyes.

But quickly wiping them away, lest others suspect, they pressed a slip of paper into her hand—and slid in, besides the turnip, an apple, two loaves of bread, and a small jar of honey.

“Ah…”

While Roze sat stunned, they covered themselves again and moved to the next cell.

Bang bang!

“Meal!”

‘Yes—that was Adelin’s voice. Now I understand.’

Now she knew why the cry was so loud today.

Closing the hatch, she carefully opened the slip.

[ Sister Roze, we hoped to find you and give you this note. We are certain you are underground. And Sister Lyset succeeded in informing Commander Morten about you.

Beyond that, we still don’t know what will happen. All we can do is wait for a chance to volunteer when another Sister can’t serve in the dungeon. But we desperately wanted this note to reach you.

Hold on just a little longer—we’ll find a way to help. – Adelin / Iselin / Lyset ]

Roze’s eyes filled with tears.

‘Thank goodness. What I carved was understood and delivered. Thank goodness.’

After weeping, she noticed the food her sisters had shoved in.

She felt guilty for the other imprisoned Sisters, but there was no way to share it, nor could she risk it.

“Father will find a way…”

Muttering, she opened the jar and spread honey on the bread.

The sweetness that touched her tongue for the first time in ages filled her to the bone; as such, tears welled again.

On the eve of the coronation, after rehearsing the last hymn, weary Lyset dragged herself back to her quarters.

As soon as she opened the door, Adelin rushed over, seized her hand, and pulled her inside.

“Ow—Sister Adelin!”

“Shh! Iselin! Close the door!”

Iselin shut it quickly. To the bewildered Lyset, Adelin whispered:

“She’s there! Truly. We saw Roze—underground!”

“Really?!”

“Yes! One of the dungeon servers suddenly fell ill, so they asked for replacements. Iselin and I volunteered on the spot. We even slipped her a letter—it worked!”

“My goodness! How could that be…”

“By the way—we gave Roze that honey jar from your drawer. You know, since we already ate ours.”

“It’s fine—you did well! How is Sister Roze? Is she well?”

At that, Adelin’s face darkened. Eyes brimming, Iselin managed to speak.

“She’s terribly gaunt. If it were me, I’d go mad in a week there. Their meals were just one turnip each.”

“Heavens…”

“Good thing we packed a little extra.”

Adelin and Iselin nodded, somewhat relieved.

As they spoke more about Roze, Lyset hesitated—should she tell them about Christoph’s words, of “something important happening tomorrow”?

But to say that would be to admit her meeting with Christoph.

‘Since I don’t know exactly what will happen, I mustn’t speak rashly.’

She resolved and simply nodded.

He was dazed.

His desire had been fulfilled.

It could not be summed up as simply “holding Lyset.”

It was the joy of knowing she had desired him as much—and that it had become a trembling, beautiful, and fulfilling bond.

Christoph, in his room, gazed toward the convent where Lyset stayed, sipping hot mulled wine.

“I’m coming in, Christoph.”

The Duchess’s voice came, and the door opened without waiting for consent.

“Not nervous, are you?”

“No, Mother. Not at all. It’s more like—I now have full resolve for the picture you’ve painted, and the new world I’ll create.”

“Oh? So before, you had none?”

“Not exactly… let’s say, I know I must succeed to protect what matters most.”

At that, the Duchess tilted her head—then gasped.

“You’ve taken that girl into your arms.”

“M-Mother!!!”

A woman’s intuition was frightening at times—especially when it was one’s own mother. The Duchess burst into laughter.

“Heavens! The man to be crowned tomorrow, ruler of this Duchy, has bedded a Cathedral Sister! This will be told from mouth to mouth for ages.”

“Mother, please don’t mock me!”

Seeing Christoph’s flushed face, the Duchess barely stifled her laughter.

“But Christoph, whether it becomes sung as a hero’s tale or a drunkard’s gossip depends on you.”

“I know. That is why I said I’m firmly resolved.”

“Good. But even if you close the cathedral and convent tomorrow, you won’t be able to free her from her Sisterhood.”

Christoph smiled.

“I can. By church law itself.”

“By church law? Is that possible?”

“That’s why I ordered Father Thomas to comb all canon law, records, and accords. Officially, to prepare charges against High Priest Kraf and Prioress Cecilia. But in truth, to find legal grounds for the Duchy to annul clerical status.”

“And there was such a thing?”

“Yes. You’ll see tomorrow. The Papacy may review and renegotiate afterward, but what’s done by existing law cannot be undone.”

The Duchess nodded, impressed.

“Yes—that’s how thorough you must be. As I’ve said: what a man’s goal is doesn’t matter. What matters is how grand his vision, and how hard he works for it. To choose a duchy and a woman, or to choose a woman alone—that too can make a fine man.”

“Of course, aside from that—our Nastrand Duchy’s domain and power will grow strong in Nordenheim. I’ll ensure success in the invasion of Fjorland first.”

“Good. I trust you’ll succeed. And tomorrow, 200 troops will arrive from your maternal kin, House Wigrid.”

“Two hundred—that’s nearly all their force, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. Since you’ll lead the Duchy’s troops on campaign, the castle must still hold enough to deter dissent.”

“I see. Understood. With you and Wigrid’s men, I can rest easy at my back. And I ask one more thing—a woman.”

“Her name?”

“Lyset.”

“Lyset? It means ‘light,’ doesn’t it. Had I borne a daughter, I would have named her that. A fine name.”

“I’ll trust only you, Mother.”

“But of course. My son’s woman is my daughter-in-law. I’m quite curious to meet her.”

The Duchess laughed behind her hand, intrigued.

And thus, the night before the coronation deepened.