Callius remembered what he had found strange when he'd first received the black sheep as a gift.
'I thought it was odd that when giving guide sheep, people usually give older, more experienced animals—but this time they gave a young lamb.'
A lamb.
Unlike the settled people of Ronheim, who sacrificed sky cows, the nomads had the custom of performing sacrifices only with their own livestock.
The first lamb born in the spring of each year was always their sacrifice.
'Surely not this sheep...'
Callius looked at the lamb, his suspicions growing.
Now that he looked carefully, if the sheep had been born in spring, it would have grown to about this size.
Had the prophet Lhasa known something when she'd given the lamb as a gift in the first place?
"It would be wise to follow the sheep."
"Yes, I understand, my lord."
Hawick was also curious about the sheep's behavior and did not oppose Callius's decision.
The two crossed the square, led by the sheep.
The people of Ronheim, witnessing the King and the knight commander following a lamb, trailed behind them—curious about what they were doing at such a rare sight.
"What? What's happening?"
"The King is following the sheep?"
"What on earth is going on?"
"Let's follow and see."
As the black sheep led the way step by step, more and more people gathered behind Callius and Hawick, forming a long procession.
Suddenly, the words Lhasa had spoken came back to Callius's mind as clearly as if they had just been whispered in his ear.
"Life is full of surprising things that surpass expectations and plans."
"You must be able to distinguish between enemy and noble."
"There is no need to be anxious. As long as you do not abandon God, everything will become clear in due time."
The black sheep finally stopped walking.
Callius and Hawick didn't dare utter a single word.
The numerous people who had followed them also held their breath in astonishment.
Because the place where the black sheep had led them was the altar itself.
The altar built to offer sacrifices for Chloe.
Callius and all the people of Ronheim clearly witnessed the black lamb climb up and prostrate itself upon the altar—as if offering itself as sacrifice.
Now that the offering was ready, preparations for the sacrifice proceeded at a rapid pace.
Callius washed himself with a devout heart and performed the ritual in a solemn atmosphere.
Under his hand, the sacrifice did not resist—even in the face of death—as if accepting its own destiny.
It seemed willing to share its life force with Chloe.
It was a profoundly mysterious sight.
Callius severed the sacrifice's head with a single stroke of his sword, collecting its blood swiftly to spare it any pain.
The moment the blood touched his hand, Callius was startled.
'It has divine power.'
Astonishingly, the blood of the sacrifice was filled with divine energy.
It was impossible for such power to emanate from the blood of a mere sheep—let alone surpass that of a sky cow.
'Well, it's not as though a sacrifice could ever walk up to the altar of its own accord.'
This entire situation defied rational explanation.
Callius cut his palm and mixed his blood with the blood of the sacrifice.
Then, as if Callius's divine power had become an amplifier, the divine energy contained in the sacrifice's blood began to grow exponentially stronger.
This was because the purifying blood flowing through Callius's veins sanctified the blood of the sacrifice.
"My lord, the Marchioness has arrived."
Hawick informed him that Granada had brought Chloe just in time.
Chloe—who couldn't even walk on her own just days ago—was now walking unaided after becoming aware of the curse.
Though her gait still looked precarious, it was clear she was fighting the curse admirably.
"Bring my wife up to the altar."
As Callius spoke, the crowd gathered around the altar parted like a sea, and Chloe walked slowly through them.
Though she had probably received an explanation from Granada before coming, Chloe's expression was tense—as if the situation was deeply unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
Then, when her gaze fell on Callius, he saw her flinch.
She seemed shocked to see him covered in blood.
'How will this behavior be perceived by an outsider?'
Callius glanced down at the bowl of sacrificial blood in his hand, feeling inwardly anxious.
The rumors that spread throughout Arental—that the Ronheim people were barbarians and cannibals—were not entirely baseless.
Those tales had been spread by travelers who witnessed Saints feeding blood to patients during healing rituals.
"Do you think the cannibal rumors are just rumors?"
It hadn't been merely a prank when Callius had frightened Chloe with such words in the past.
'It must seem terrifying and barbaric to a foreigner.'
Callius watched Chloe drawing closer and closer to him, wondering what he would do if she couldn't accept this.
Suddenly, he looked around—and everyone's expressions mirrored his own concern.
They were all worried about the same thing.
Those gathered here had witnessed firsthand how Callius obtained the blood of the sacrifice he now held.
The people of Ronheim, who had seen this mysterious and wondrous sight, hoped as fervently as Callius that Chloe would not refuse this offering.
May she be a noblewoman of Ronheim sent by God.
The gazes they directed at Chloe were the same as those they once gave to Saint Ilya.
Ilya had not been a Saint of Ronheim from the beginning. She, like Chloe, had been a stranger—and when she first arrived in Ronheim, such wondrous things had happened.
The people remembered it well.
Will history repeat itself?
The eyes of those who hoped that God had not yet abandoned Ronheim turned to Chloe with silent prayer.
Callius carefully handed the bowl of blood to Chloe, whose face had hardened.
"Drink."
Chloe looked up at Callius.
What is she thinking?
Callius tensed, unable to read the emotion in her clear eyes.
He gently urged her again, as if to soothe her.
"Before it gets cold—hurry."
Chloe couldn't hide her reluctance, but she removed her gloves and took the bowl anyway.
"Ah..."
Her shoulders shook slightly as blood stained her hands.
She couldn't bring herself to put the bowl to her lips.
"Drink it before it cools. It's only effective while warm."
Granada urged. What she said was true.
At that moment, sharp voices began to flow from the gathered crowd.
"She can't do it."
"The delicate Princess of the south who grew up so pampered."
There was a sense of frustration mixed in with the grumbling.
Those who believed Chloe couldn't possibly be a noblewoman of Ronheim added their voices.
"She'll probably cry and beg to be allowed to return to the palace."
"What is a weak southerner who can't even do something like this going to accomplish here?"
That was when it happened.
Chloe's expression changed—as if their words had provoked something deep within her.
She stared at the bowl with wide, defiant eyes.
Callius felt that, though she didn't say it aloud, her entire being was screaming that she would not leave Ronheim.
The next moment, Chloe put her lips to the bowl with a determined expression on her face.
Then she began emptying the bowl without hesitation.
Though her stomach churned with the urge to vomit, Chloe endured until the end and drained every last drop.
"Ha."
She held out the emptied bowl to Callius, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.
She looked fierce. Wild.
As he accepted the bowl, Callius thought, dazed:
'How formidable.'
What is this pounding in my chest?
It was truly incomprehensible how that slender, small woman—who had been struggling just to move her body properly—could seem so strong.
Callius couldn't hide the smile spreading across his face in relief and exhilaration, and he laughed without restraint.
"Well done."
He held up the empty bowl for all to see.
Then the people—who had never imagined Chloe would actually do it—erupted in unison.
"Waaa...!"
"She did it!"
Someone shouted:
"Long live the Marchioness!"
To them, Chloe was no longer a princess of a foreign country.
To the people, Chloe was now the new leader of Ronheim, ruling alongside Callius.
A person who had accepted the culture of Ronheim.
And perhaps—the one God had sent to Ronheim.
It was the moment when the hope of Ronheim, which had been crushed by Arental's army with the death of the Saint, was restored at last.
"Long live the Marchioness!"
"Long live our Queen!"
Endless cheers surrounded the entire village, echoing off the mountain peaks.
The beginning of this ritual had simply been to suppress the power of the curse.
However, as a result, not only was the curse's power diminished—it also became the moment when Chloe was fully accepted into Ronheim.
Chloe's new life had finally, truly begun.
She had drunk the blood of sacrifice.She had proven her strength.She had claimed her place.
And in doing so, she became more than a survivor—she became Ronheim's hope reborn.
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