Chapter 1: Begone, Unholy Woman
“OUR betrothal is annulled, you lascivious priestess!”
Thus declared His Royal Highness, Prince Medaikonar Kophe, his ice-cold voice echoing throughout the hall. There was only one problem—the purpose of tonight’s special party was to announce our engagement.
What in the realm is happening? I haven’t even been betrothed for five minutes!
My mind in chaos, I remained speechless, unable to string words together coherently. Those who were gathered around us—nobles and royalty both—seemed to hold their collective breaths, listening raptly as a deathly silence blanketed the space. Someone inadvertently struck a piano key, and the resulting plink reverberated endlessly through the room, echoing up to the high ceiling and all the way back down again.
I could see a vein throbbing in Prince Medaikonar’s forehead. He roughly combed his fingers through the well-coiffed locks of his golden hair, then pointed an accusing finger at me from his seat, which was positioned a single rung below the throne.
“Priestess,” he demanded in a disgusted tone, “why was I not informed earlier of your unholy power?! Why was I unaware that you are possessed of an ability so vile that it induces lust in those around you?!”
“W-Well, you see, I—”
“Do you really expect me to believe that all those strapping young knights you’ve been fighting monsters with at the front line have somehow failed to fall under your seductive spell? I find it entirely inconceivable for such a thing to be true when you’ve been using your peculiar abilities the entire time! Tell me, priestess—tell me I am wrong!”
“U-Um…”
The truth was, His Highness was right—but only partially. And so, I decided that perhaps it would be best if I tried to appeal to his better judgment.
I took a deep breath, feeling very aware of the fact that I was at the center of attention of everyone within the grave, quiet hall, and then said, “With all due respect, Your Highness, the rare ability bestowed on all priestesses is well known to have a strong effect on the survival instincts of living creatures. That is only natural, as it is a healing skill that amplifies the innate recovery rate of the recipient. That being said, I must acknowledge that the strength of my particular ability is not without consequence, the price being a side effect that incites a certain degree of excitement in myself and others.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. “So, you admit it!” he snarled. “A soiled holy woman like you could never become my consort, let alone my kingdom’s future queen! The mere idea is preposterous! I say again, our betrothal is annulled!”
“Please, just listen to me!” I cried. “All the men I fought with on the front lines adhered to a most chivalrous code of honor! Each and every one of them were well-mannered, honorable men! They would never have behaved as uncouthly as you imply.”
“Silence! I know the truth, you odious priestess. I can hear it in your voice! Such a tone could only come from a woman who has known the touch of a man!”
My mouth dropped open. “Th-That is simply not true!”
This exchange finally shattered the hush that had fallen over the hall, and people began shouting left and right. A great many of them seemed perturbed by Prince Medaikonar’s hateful attitude, not to mention his vitriol-filled words.
Not that any of them will protect me, I thought, shoulders drooping.
And why not, you ask? Well, because everyone in the hall, save myself, was of the peerage. None of them would bother standing up for a commoner like me.
I’d managed to end up in this place some time after I’d been dispatched to Mayga Cieux, a forest located in the western portion of the Kingdom of Kophe. Mayga Cieux occupied about one-eighth of the nation’s territory, and had the unfortunate fate of being plagued by monsters. As a result, it had been demarcated as a disaster zone—the special designation was apt, since the forest was the part of the kingdom that suffered the highest number of monster outbreaks.
My job had been to defeat the monsters within Mayga Cieux using my divine abilities. I’d done my best, and eventually my efforts had been recognized as meritorious achievements performed in service to the nation. This recognition was what had ultimately led to me being chosen as Prince Medaikonar’s fiancée, even despite my common birth.
Ultimately, the problem of my lineage had been resolved just hours ago, when I’d signed an adoption agreement with a marquess. My transformation into a noblewoman had been instantaneous, and I’d been carted off right then and there to observe a variety of necessary formalities. It was only after their completion that I had been led into the throne room where I now stood, where it had finally been announced that I was the prince’s intended. This last event had only happened five minutes prior. And now, mere moments after its recognition by the peerage, our engagement was to be dissolved?
The aristocracy present seemed to be similarly taken aback by the situation, though their shock seemed tempered by relief. When I saw the raptness of their gazes, I felt like I could guess exactly what they were thinking. It would be something like, “While it’s certainly true that His Highness’s words are beyond the pale, the priestess is a member of the hoi polloi…” or “I’d rather agree with the prince than run the risk of a peasant becoming queen.” Judging by their behavior, such sentiments seemed to be shared amongst them all.
Frankly speaking, I had now come to a place where I found the whole ordeal nearly too painful to endure.
I turned my face away from the apathetic stares of the elite, and spied a man lurking in the shadows of a pillar. The thin, hunch-backed lordling was watching me, an unsavory smile on his face. I recognized him by his hair, which was dun-colored, and brushed to a gleam.
So he’s the culprit, I thought, filled with distaste.
The man’s name was Lord Keunt Strelizzi. From my time at the front lines, I knew him to be a person possessed of what could be referred to as a slight victim mentality. He had always been all talk and no action—he’d go around proclaiming grandly that he was to become a great hero, only to complain endlessly whenever he was assigned to fight in a place he deemed dangerous. To top it all off, whenever he was given an assignment that actually matched his requirements, like supplying troops in a relatively safe area, he’d get all sulky and resentful and demand, “Are you implying that I’m useless elsewhere?!”
Lord Keunt’s problematic behavior had eventually caused him to be assigned nearly exclusively to independent tasks, since he might cause issues otherwise. But naturally, he was never happy to receive such orders, as he didn’t want to be separated from the rest of the company.
In short, he was quite a difficult man in many ways. His high-status family name only made dealing with him that much harder, since his rank in the peerage outstripped the front-line commander’s authority.
I had chosen long ago to treat Lord Keunt as I would any of my fellow comrades on the battlefield, even despite his disagreeable nature. I interacted with him just as I would with any other I considered my equal, and afforded him all my respect. Secretly, I considered him socially inept, and thought of his foibles as part and parcel of his condition. Back then, I had truly believed that he was trying to do his best in his own way, and was an upright individual at his core.
I’d been much too naïve.