Chapter 7
The Road to the Capital
Asel helped me mount the horse. First climbing up himself, he held the reins with one hand and reached out his other hand. The moment I grabbed his hand, his arm yanked me up, and I floated straight into the air. He pulled me so hard that the moment my bottom touched the saddle, I slammed my head straight into Asel’s broad chest.
“Please look forward.”
At Asel’s words, I quickly pulled my head back and turned away. The wide-open horizon compressed itself into my newly revealed field of vision.
“Whoa.”
No sooner had I finished speaking than Cassian, who was nearby, watched us with a satisfied expression and said,
“Wishing you a safe journey.” “Yes, thank you.”
Asel tilted his head and whispered low into my ear.
“We will depart now. Hold on tight to the reins.”
Wait, a fresh-faced youth younger than me is whispering in my ear like that and giving me goosebumps? Before I could even protestāyah! The horse kicked off the ground and surged forward. The people beside us vanished in an instant. The scenery around us began to blur past as if I were riding a car.
One of the hands holding the reins wrapped smoothly around my waist. Startled by the touch, I flinched, and Asel’s voice pierced through the wind to reach my ear.
“I will be holding on, so you do not need to be too tense.” “How long does it take to reach the royal palace?”
My voice came out shaking. Was it because of the vibration, or something else?
“It will take about six hours of riding. We should take a break in the middle, so we should arrive late this afternoon.”
I was supposed to ride continuously for six hours on a shaking horse like this? And that’s just the pure ‘riding time’? I grew to hate the ambitious version of myself who had set off so boldly.
Whenever I watched historical dramas, everyone always looked so peaceful riding horses. A strong thought crossed my mind that perhaps all of that was edited out.
Moreover, every time I wobbled, Asel pulled my waist tightly toward him. So much so that I found myself mistakenly wondering, Does this guy actually have a strong knack for romance?
When the horse galloped across ground choked with tree roots, a squeak of ‘Eek!’ leaked from my mouth, and when it stepped on a rock and leaped forward, a groan of ‘Ugh’ slipped out. I wanted to cover my mouth, but Asel was the only one I could rely on right now, so the more it happened, the deeper I leaned my back against him.
When we finally dismounted in front of the royal palace gates after six hours of riding, every joint in my body ached. As I rubbed my arms and looked up at the sky, the day was getting ready to dim lazily.
Due to the heavy tension, every muscle in my body was screaming in protest. My stomach must have been shocked, because a wave of nausea rose up, and only after I pounded my chest a few times did my senses return somewhat.
Asel, watching me with a worried look, pulled a rolled-up document stamped with a golden seal from among the luggage dangling off the horse and handed it to the guard standing in front of the massive gate. Without a word, the guard thoroughly checked its contents before handing it back to Asel.
“We will open the gate. Please leave all weapons with me while it is being opened.”
Asel showed the crest stamped onto the hilt of his sword.
“This is a sword of the knight order. I understand it is permitted to carry it.”
“Ah, correct. You may enter.”
Suddenly noticing, I saw dark circles completely filling the area beneath the eyes of the soldiers guarding the gate. They would clear right up if they just took a comprehensive multivitamin. Ah, of course. Not that I blindly believe in vitamins, but theoretically it’s possible. Muttering to myself, I followed behind Asel, passing through the grand gate and moving inward.
Upon entering the citadel, I saw a vast garden and people in white garments wandering around among the greenery. They wore hats that looked oddly shaped like sweet red bean bread.
“Who are those people?”
No sooner had I asked than someone who spotted us approached, pulled a honey-dripper-like rod out of a jar they were holding, and sprinkled liquid droplets all over the two of us.
“May the blessings of the divine be with you.”
The person who performed the act hurried away to someone else. Tugging at my liquid-splashed shirt, I asked,
“What is this?”
“It is a ritual of purification. The person who just performed the ritual is a priest.”
“Are all those people wearing bread-loaf hats priests?”
“Yes. It is a ritual performed for people seeking entry into the royal palace by junior priests. To put it briefly, the act of sprinkling holy water.”
I flicked my tongue out to lick a drop of holy water sliding down past my chin.
“It’s salty?”
“Oh dear, Lady Ian. You must not let anyone hear that.”
Asel grabbed both of my shoulders and gently pushed me forward. Pushed along by his touch, I walked a few paces and arrived in front of a building. One of the attendants waiting inside the building’s entrance approached our direction.
“Greetings, I am the head chamberlain assigned to guide you.”
“I am Asel of the First Knights Templar. This is Lady Ian, the Saintess who came from another world.”
“I am aware. I shall guide you promptly to the audience chamber where His Majesty the King awaits.”
The chamberlain moved to take a step, but paused as he scanned our appearances from head to toe.
“Saintess, if you would, please leave those shabby bundles to our attendants. They are not fitting for a presence before His Majesty.”
At the chamberlain’s words, I hugged my bundle even tighter to my chest.
“Asel’s sword is permitted, so why are my cooking tools being persecuted?”
“Are the things inside there cooking tools?”
I proudly presented the bundle. The chamberlain, who unfolded the bundle right then and there, scratched his head. He had a look of hesitation written all over his face. Even if he told me I couldn’t bring them, I was prepared to protect my cooking tools above all else. Though, having ridden a horse for six hours, I wasn’t sure if I’d have the stamina left to put up a proper argument. But my cooking tools were my weapons, just like Asel’s sword.
The chamberlain raised his head. When our eyes met, perhaps reading the fierce determination in my gaze, he glanced at Asel. However, Asel merely shrugged his shoulders in response to the chamberlain’s look.
“Yes, well… Understood. Still, please set them down beside you when you see His Majesty.”
“I’ll do that.”
With those final words, the chamberlain led the way. The two of us followed behind him. As we walked down the winding paths that stretched on for a while, I noticed that this royal palace was slathered entirely in gold. Despite its flamboyant exterior, it seemed to lack proper ventilation, which was essential for living.
And indeed, the further we moved inward, the more the air grew thick with a scent resembling soggy boiled rice. On top of that, an obscure mixture of various people’s perfumes gave me a headache.
Good grief, this is the perfect atmospheric condition to catch a disease.
Finally, the massive doors of the audience chamber opened. The sound was like a heavy piece of scrap metal screaming. I readjusted the bundle of cooking tools hugged to my chest and took a step forward.
Due to the six hours of horseback riding, my gait wobbled precariously like a newborn deer’s, but I held my head up high. No matter what, losing your nerve means you lose. Especially in a place like this “gold-plated germ incubator.”
“Asel of the First Knights Templar, and Lady Ian, the Saintess from another world, now entering!”
The chamberlain’s shout echoed against the high ceiling. The inside of the audience chamber was literally a sea of gold. However, my sensitive olfactory sense caught not the smell of gold, but the poorly ventilated, decaying air, pungent perfumes, and crucially, the cloying, life-sapping sweet smell.
Sitting upon the dais was a gaunt king with sunken cheeks below his cheekbones, and flanking him to the left and right were nobles clad in gorgeous silk robes and priests wearing sweet red bean bread hats.
Among them stood one man who particularly caught the eye. Clad in excessively flashy silk garments, the potbellied man stared at me with a look of utter contempt.
