After I finished preparing to leave and stepped outside the ker, Callius and his party were waiting for me.
Among the crowd of people, Callius immediately caught my eye.
Strangely enough, I saw only him—even though he wasn't the tallest or the most imposing figure in the group. He looked at me and smiled.
Yesterday feels like a dream.
It felt as though I'd spent the night in a warm, comfortable dream with Callius by my side.
I smiled back at him, feeling measurably closer to him than I had before.
"I can't see Lhasa," I whispered to Callius as he approached me.
I'd been looking for her since morning, but no matter how thoroughly I searched, I couldn't find even a shadow of her presence.
Callius's expression turned sympathetic as he explained. "I heard she's too exhausted to receive visitors after her night of prayer."
"Oh my..." I felt genuine concern for her wellbeing.
Callius consoled me as I worried about Lhasa and regretted not being able to satisfy my lingering curiosity about her prophecy.
"Lhasa's prophecies are difficult for everyone to interpret. They often seem utterly incomprehensible. But looking back on my past experiences, I've always found that, at the right time, her words suddenly make perfect sense."
"But what if I'm too foolish to realize it when that time comes?"
"Then we'll meet Lhasa again, just as we encountered the Uttars this time."
Callius spoke with quiet confidence to me, despite my lingering unease.
"The coincidence of meeting Lhasa was not truly a coincidence. Don't worry."
I couldn't help but feel reassured when he said that.
As I nodded acceptance, he added softly:
"Besides, Chloe—you're not stupid."
"Well... thank you for saying that."
When Callius spoke those words, I remembered what Lhasa had told me: to believe in myself.
It's really not easy to trust myself. I feel like I've been given a monumental task that will require tremendous effort.
We exchanged warm farewells with the Uttars.
The chief's wife approached me with something held carefully in her hands—a necklace made from small pebbles she'd collected from the lake.
It was constructed from remarkably pretty blue stones.
The pebbles, with their vivid cerulean color, were so beautiful they could rival any precious jewel I'd seen in the palace.
"It's a wedding gift. I'm embarrassed by my humble craftsmanship, but I made it with prayers that the gods would protect the bride."
She couldn't bring herself to use my proper title, so she called me simply "bride."
"It's absolutely beautiful! You're so talented!"
She whispered shyly in response to my enthusiastic compliment.
"I wanted to give it to you as a gift because the color resembles your eyes."
What a meaningful, thoughtful present. I was truly, deeply delighted.
She seemed to want to place the necklace around my neck herself, but hesitated, clearly fearing it might be considered rude. Seeing her uncertainty, I bowed my head toward her.
"Would you do me the honor?"
"Oh! Yes, of course!"
She was momentarily flustered when I bowed my head before her, then hurriedly fastened the necklace around my throat.
I hugged her tightly, treasuring this thoughtful gift she'd crafted while praying for my protection.
"I truly love it! I'll treasure it always. Thanks to you and your people, I've gained so many valuable things."
She returned my embrace shyly, murmured several more blessings, then retreated to hide bashfully behind the chief.
After our night's rest, our group mounted horses once more.
The Uttar children—who learn to ride independently by age six—watched with obvious amusement as I was carried by Callius rather than riding on my own.
For the first time, I felt genuine shame about being unable to do something that everyone else accomplished with ease.
During my brief time with the Uttar people, I'd experienced and felt many things for the first time.
All of those experiences solidified into determination and resolution.
The mountain goat that Bihar had gifted us proved remarkably intelligent.
It walked only on paths previously trodden by other mountain goats, expertly guiding us past all the dangers and obstacles hidden beneath the snow.
After traveling for what felt like an eternity, we finally arrived at Ronheim Castle at dusk, just as a snowstorm began to gather strength.
As we dismounted, exhausted and wind-battered, the servants of Ronheim Castle stood assembled with lanterns raised to greet us.
It was late, and receiving us must have been inconvenient, yet no one appeared tired or resentful.
They all wore expressions of genuine joy at Callius's safe return.
Everyone is holding lit lanterns.
That was the first detail that caught my attention—though truthfully, it was simply that my surroundings looked unusually dark.
"Why aren't they using magic lights? Is there a specific reason?" I wondered aloud to myself.
In Arrental, candles were rarely used except for situations requiring quick or temporary illumination. Magic lights were the standard—less risk of accidents, easier to maintain, unaffected by wind.
But here, everyone clutched lanterns lit with actual candles.
The wind is so strong, too.
As I watched, several servants' flames guttered out, forcing them to relight their lanterns repeatedly.
This is so strange.
I only discovered the reason much later, and I remain profoundly grateful that I didn't voice my ignorant curiosity at the time.
I couldn't have imagined then that Ronheim was so desperately poor that even the castle itself couldn't afford to purchase and maintain expensive magic lights.
The servants' flames kept extinguishing in the wind, forcing us to enter the castle quickly.
Just before reaching Ronheim Castle, Callius had sent Brentian ahead to inform them of my impending arrival. Thanks to that foresight, the castle staff didn't make the mistake of addressing Callius as "King" the way Bihar had.
"Thank you for your arduous journey, Master. I'm profoundly glad you've returned safely."
The butler spoke with evident happiness at Callius's homecoming.
He possessed a peculiarly large scar running diagonally across his face—from temple to jaw, impossible to miss.
The Arrental Palace never hired servants with prominent scars visible outside their clothing. It was considered unseemly, a disruption to the palace's aesthetic perfection.
Seeing such a prominent disfigurement on the face of the butler—a high-ranking servant—was genuinely surprising.
Callius clasped the butler's hand firmly in greeting.
"Did anything significant occur during my absence?"
"Nothing major that requires immediate reporting."
"That's fortunate. You've worked hard to protect the castle in my stead, Mainz."
"I merely fulfilled my duty."
Callius smiled warmly, then turned to address his assembled staff with confidence.
"This is Princess Chloe Idelian of the Idelian royal family, henceforth to be addressed as Marchioness Rodrian."
All the servants inclined their heads toward me in acknowledgment.
"I look forward to working with all of you in the future."
I swallowed a sigh as I watched their expressions harden with unmistakable tension.
It's all right. This will improve with time.
Callius surveyed his assembled staff, then addressed Mainz again.
"I don't see the head maid. Where is Granada? I'd like her to guide the Marchioness to her quarters."
"That's... well, Master..."
Mainz hesitated as though deeply troubled, then leaned closer to whisper something to Callius.
Judging by his furtive expression, it seemed he was sharing information he believed I shouldn't overhear.
Callius's brow furrowed as he listened to Mainz's hushed report.
"That's an absurd overreaction. Go and bring Granada here immediately."
So the head maid's name was Granada.
"But, Master—"
"Now, Mainz."
Mainz glanced at me with obvious conflict. When our eyes met, he offered an awkward, apologetic smile.
Then a powerful voice echoed through the castle entrance—loud enough to make the stone walls seem to tremble.
"There's no need for that, Master. I've come of my own accord."
A middle-aged woman—perhaps in her sixties—strode toward us with commanding presence. This, evidently, was Granada, the head maid.
She possessed a remarkably loud, resonant voice that carried authority in every syllable.
I found myself unconsciously looking down at her feet, drawn by an unusual rhythmic sound—wood striking stone with every step she took.
At first, I assumed it was the sound of a walking cane.
But when the hem of her skirt swayed with her movement, I glimpsed a wooden prosthetic in place of one of her natural feet.
That was the source of the distinctive sound—footsteps from a wooden leg.
Her gait, though slightly unsteady, remained commanding. The prosthetic was clearly crafted merely to enable balance while standing—not carved in any anatomical detail, just a functional cylinder of wood.
Despite this obvious impediment, she moved with remarkable dignity.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Granada Villeno. Please address me as Granada."
She executed a deep, formal bow—a gesture of remarkable physical restraint given her condition.
Then she lifted the hem of her skirt slightly with one hand, deliberately revealing her wooden prosthetic. Her expression remained cold and utterly neutral.
"As you can observe, my physical health is... imperfect. The butler attempted to hide me away, believing Your Highness would be disturbed by my appearance. I apologize for my tardiness—I had to break through a locked door to reach you."
Mainz stepped forward urgently. "Granada, please, this isn't—"
But Granada dismissed him with a single imperious wave of her hand, not even sparing him a glance.
Before anyone could intervene, she turned to face me completely—the movement characteristically deliberate and controlled—and spoke with unflinching directness.
"I will be serving you at Ronheim Castle from this moment forward. Does my physical condition offend Your Highness? The butler informed me that in Arrental, people with visible disabilities are considered... unsuitable for service. I'm uncertain whether this is truth or merely vicious rumor."
I was so overwhelmed by the sheer force of her presence that I couldn't formulate words. My lips moved soundlessly.
Granada possessed a gaze of such intensity it felt like it could swallow me whole.
I'm... I'm frightened.
Embarrassingly, I felt tears threatening to spill.
But since every member of the castle staff was watching with undisguised curiosity—waiting to see how I would respond—I strained my eyes wide and desperately held back the tears.
Even Mainz, who'd been attempting to intercede on Granada's behalf, now held his breath in tense anticipation of my answer.
The silence stretched taut as a bowstring.
Everyone waited.
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