Callius was worried that Chloe would refuse the practical clothing northerners wore.
The people of Arrental placed immense importance on ornate, colorful garments—elaborate silks, intricate embroidery, layers upon layers of delicate fabric that served no practical purpose beyond displaying wealth and status.
Those who had never been to the North could not begin to imagine how brutal the winds there truly were.
They think Arrental's winter is cold. They have no idea.
Callius and his men—who had once spent a winter in the imperial capital—thought Arrental was a place without winter.
The coldest season in Arrental was warmer than summer in Ronheim.
Callius had become a laughingstock among his own people when he'd walked around the capital in what he thought were summer clothes, only to be told—weeks later—that winter had already arrived.
'With clothing like that, she'll get frostbite the moment she steps out of the teleportation circle.'
Callius's gaze lingered on Chloe's dress—delicate lace covering her neck and arms, a layered skirt that left her ankles exposed. It was modest by Arrental standards, perhaps even conservative.
But it would kill her in Ronheim.
If she walked around in a dress with an open hem like that, she might end up losing the entire lower half of her body to frostbite before nightfall. The blackened, frozen flesh would have to be amputated—if she even survived long enough for treatment.
It wasn't an exaggeration. Many travelers who journeyed to the North without proper preparation lost fingers and toes to frostbite. In severe cases, entire limbs had to be removed.
If she refuses to change her clothes, I'll have to force her. For her own safety.
Everyone in Callius's retinue was watching Chloe carefully, waiting for her response.
They had all seen how Arrental nobility reacted to northern customs before. The disdain. The horror. The refusal to compromise even when their lives depended on it.
They expected the same from the Princess.
But then, unexpectedly, Chloe smiled brightly.
"Thank you for your concern, Marquis Rodrian. Where would be a good place to change?"
Silence.
Instead of protesting, instead of complaining, instead of demanding imperial finery—
She thanked him.
Rhonda, the merchant, recovered quickly—her sharp instincts recognizing an opportunity.
"The fortress isn't exactly designed for comfort, my lady. I think it would be best if you changed in your carriage. But first, you should choose the clothing you prefer. Would you mind coming this way?"
She led Chloe toward a stall just a few steps away, where dark leather garments hung from wooden racks.
Chloe examined the clothing with intent curiosity, running her fingers over the heavy, reinforced fabric.
Callius watched her with an expression he couldn't quite name.
Thank you for your concern.
Earlier, when he'd warned her that the journey would be perilous, she hadn't looked frightened or resentful. She'd simply said she would persevere.
And then she'd smiled.
That smile lingered in his mind like a persistent ember.
She's... strange.
She looked fragile—precarious, like ashes left behind after everything had burned away. As if a single gust of wind might scatter her completely.
But beneath that fragility, there was something else. Something solid. Unyielding.
Determination as unshakable as stone.
Callius's gaze never left her.
Brentian spoke coldly beside Callius, as if trying to snap him out of whatever trance had taken hold.
"She doesn't know yet."
"What?"
"She hasn't even set foot on northern soil. Right now, she's tolerating the situation because she's come this far and has no choice. But once we reach Abene—once she truly understands what lies ahead—she'll turn back."
Brentian hoped Callius wouldn't grow too attached to the Princess.
The whole point of this marriage was to confirm whether Kavala possessed the holy relic. Nothing more.
They had already achieved that goal—securing permission for the marriage had been confirmation enough. The Empress wouldn't have agreed otherwise.
So why didn't we stop there? Why push the marriage all the way through?
And what is Princess Chloe really thinking?
Brentian couldn't shake his suspicions.
Is she here on Kavala's orders? Sent to find the key to awakening the holy relic?
That must be it. Otherwise, why would she agree to this marriage? Why would she travel all the way here without protest?
Brentian believed this marriage would collapse sooner or later.
So far, both sides' schemes had intertwined just enough to keep things moving forward. But he expected that once they reached Abene—once Chloe saw the frozen wasteland that awaited her—she would break down in tears and beg to return home.
And honestly? I hope she does.
Brentian wanted this marriage to fail. It had to.
We've confirmed the relic's location. Now we need to get rid of the Princess.
She was almost certainly a spy planted by Kavala.
The only reason Brentian cared about her clothing at all was because he couldn't afford to send her back as a frozen corpse.
That would start another war. We have to avoid that at all costs.
Beyond that pragmatic concern, he had no interest in the Arrental Princess whatsoever.
But why was Callius—who should be thinking the exact same way—staring at Chloe like he was smitten?
This is troubling.
Brentian wondered if Callius had actually given his heart away in the short time since the engagement.
No. That's ridiculous. He's not that foolish.
Brentian wanted to believe Callius was too intelligent, too disciplined, to fall for an obvious ploy.
I just hope my lord doesn't develop some misguided sense of responsibility for a relationship that will be over by tonight.
But Callius's expression was unreadable—a carefully neutral mask that revealed nothing.
He spoke calmly, still watching Chloe.
"She might say she wants to go back. Or she might not. We'll just wait and see."
"..."
Just wait and see? You're not going to intimidate her? Not going to make the situation unbearable so she leaves on her own?
Why? Why not?
Brentian glanced at Callius with poorly concealed disapproval.
Callius, feeling the weight of that stare, simply changed the subject as if he didn't care.
"Have you learned anything more about the relic?"
Brentian sighed softly and delivered his report.
"I gathered some intelligence from the palace just before we departed."
"Did anyone see the relic in the burned warehouse?"
"Fortunately—or unfortunately—no. It seems no one found the relic among the wreckage. The warehouse was used to store precious gemstones. It's possible the Empress kept the relic somewhere else entirely. It would appear trivial to anyone who didn't know its true value."
"I'd rather believe it's safely stored elsewhere than lost in the fire."
"It wasn't lost. If it had been, there would be no point in sending the Princess to Ronheim."
Both men's expressions darkened as they spoke of the sacred relic.
"When will we finally get it back?"
They murmured the question at the same time.
Behind them, unnoticed, a stuffed bear sitting on the carriage seat toppled over from its own weight, falling onto its side.
I stared at the northern clothing Rhonda was showing me, completely baffled.
I can't tell what's what even if I look at it.
The garments were all pitch black and looked frighteningly heavy. They were covered in straps, buckles, and reinforced panels.
Is this really clothing? Or some kind of... harness?
No matter how I examined them, I couldn't figure out where to fasten them or how to wear them properly.
They all looked identical to my untrained eyes.
What am I even supposed to choose here?
Eventually, I gave up.
"Please recommend something suitable."
Rhonda stepped forward as if she'd been expecting me to say exactly that.
"Actually, my lady, the best clothing for the North is whatever fits you most closely. That way, you can effectively block the wind and retain heat."
She held up various garments against my body, measuring them one by one.
"Hmm... my lady, you're quite small in stature..."
She checked the measurements of all the pre-made clothing she had available, muttering under her breath with growing concern.
"You're smaller than you look..."
Then she winced, as if realizing she'd said something rude.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, my lady. I didn't mean—"
"It's fine."
I nodded graciously.
It made perfect sense. Rhonda—a northerner—was a full head taller than me. If I looked small to her, it was simply a matter of perspective.
She probably thinks I'm tiny. And honestly? I probably am, compared to northern standards.
"Are there any clothes that fit me?"
"Well... it's not that there are none..."
"If you have anything that fits, please show me."
Rhonda hesitated, looking genuinely embarrassed.
"If it's not too rude, my lady... would you mind wearing children's clothing? I don't mean to offend, but in the North, children grow as tall as southern adults by the time they're twelve."
I blinked.
Then I shrugged.
"That's fine."
"Are you certain you're comfortable with that?"
"Of course."
"Truly?"
"Yes, truly."
Rhonda sought my confirmation an almost absurd number of times, as if she couldn't quite believe I wasn't offended.
"Why do you keep asking? I can't tell whether something is made for children or adults just by looking at it. They all look the same to me anyway."
Rhonda finally relaxed, smiling with obvious relief.
After I finished selecting clothing, Rhonda offered to help me change in the carriage.
Apparently, if I weren't using the carriage, I'd have to change behind a flimsy wooden screen set up on one side of the stall—which offered almost no privacy at all.
Before I could ask any of the maids I'd brought from the palace to assist me, Rhonda gestured to a few of them standing nearby.
But then one of the maids caught my eye.
'That person...!'
The woman who saw my startled expression widened her own eyes in turn, freezing when our gazes met.
I almost screamed.
But I was acutely aware of the eyes watching me—Callius, his knights, the merchants, the other servants. I forced myself to suppress my pounding heart and act calmly.
"You there. Would you come here for a moment?"
"Y-yes..."
She swallowed hard, closed her eyes tightly as if bracing for punishment, and approached.
"Rhonda, please wait just a moment. This will only take a second."
The maid and I climbed into the carriage together. I pulled the door shut behind us and locked it securely.
Then I turned to face her, my voice low and sharp.
"You're the thief from before, aren't you?"
An unexpected reunion.
A familiar face hidden among enemies.
Or perhaps... an ally?
---