I devoted the days leading up to Noel to crafting Owen’s and Marisa’s gifts, working feverishly until the very eve of the celebration. Time slipped away unnoticed until, suddenly, the day of Noel was upon us.
As Marisa assisted me into my Saintly attire, a great yawn threatened to escape my lips. I stifled it, feeling my lack of sleep. My recent endeavors had left me little time for rest, yet there had been no alternative. The gifts had to be ready before the festivities in Malcosias. Of course, my foremost priority as the lighter of the sacred flame was the ceremony, but every moment beyond that was dedicated to completing presents for my most loyal companions.
Once dressed, it was time to attend to the other aspects of my appearance. I exhaled slowly, steadying my nerves, and settled before the dresser. Marisa, ever efficient, moved behind me with her tools in hand and began her work with practiced grace, moving deftly as she masked my tired features. The dark circles beneath my eyes were the first to be banished, replaced by the softest hint of pink on my cheeks. The religiosity of the occasion called for simplicity—an emphasis upon purity over grandeur—yet Marisa’s touch was no less exquisite for its restraint.
“Your skill never fails to astonish me, Marisa,” I murmured, admiration coloring my voice as I gazed at my reflection and the transformation she had wrought.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied simply, as she always did in response to my praise. But as she bobbed her head and tucked away her brushes and sponges, I noticed the faintest curve of a smile gracing her lips.
Now, that’s new. My eyes crinkled fondly at the thought. Indeed, I had wanted to believe that perhaps Marisa and I had been getting closer, and seeing tangible proof of that—why, what a most delightful surprise!
Next came my hair. Marisa’s hands moved over my ashen-pale strands with meticulous care. My mood buoyant, I took the opportunity to review the proceedings for tonight one last time. Given that the upcoming ceremony was to place me in close proximity to a live flame, Marisa coiled my hair into a bun, securing it with ornate hairpins adorned with the finest sapphires. Necklaces and earrings set with glittering peridot gleamed around my neck and dangled from my earlobes. The colors of purity and healing were present in every aspect of my ensemble, extending from my head all the way down to the very tips of my toes.
“And now, the final touch,” Marisa announced, spreading a delicate lace shawl before me. The veillike shawl, its diaphanous fineness reminiscent of a bridal garment, commanded my attention as I rose gracefully from my seat. She draped it over my shoulders, the gossamer fabric barely grazing my skin, so light that each movement sent its edges fluttering softly.
“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” Marisa declared.
“Thank you, Marisa,” I replied. “Though it must be said that I owe it all to your handiwork.” I tried to convey the extent of my sincerity through a gracious smile.
She humbly deflected my praise before reaching for the white scepter resting on the nearby table. She held it out to me with reverent care. As I took hold of the high pontiff’s gift, I released a slow, measured breath. The preparations were now complete. As I stood there, fully attired, the gravity of the occasion began to settle upon me—the weight of it pressed down, and a tinge of anxiety surged through me.
Oh, I just hope I’ll be able to do the ceremony justice, I thought nervously. My grip on the scepter tightened as a wave of self-doubt washed over me. But then came another, more determined voice. Cold feet now? Really, Carolina? it chastised me. It is no longer a matter of whether you can or cannot; nothing matters now but the force of your resolve.
Just then, three sharp knocks echoed from the door. “Lina, it’s me,” came the voice of my beloved husband, causing my heart to flutter. “May I come in? If you’re still preparing, I can return later.”
“Of course you may enter!” I called, and at my acquiescence, Ed, Teodore, and Owen filed into the room. Plates of silver armor glinted upon their imposing forms—a sight I had seen countless times before, yet today, they appeared especially striking. It seemed they had taken extra care with their appearances—Teodore looked well-rested for once in his life, while Owen’s hair was actually styled. As for Ed...at first glance, he appeared unchanged, but upon closer inspection, I noticed a brand-new cape draped elegantly over his shoulders.
Ed strode towards me. “Hello, Lina.” His eyes swept over me from head to toe, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “You look...stunning, my darling. You do.”
A quick elbow jab from Teodore brought Ed back to his usual self, his blush fading as the blond lord stepped up beside his prince, clearing his throat conspicuously.
“Indeed, what magnificent regalia,” Teodore observed. “Leaving the matter of its design to Her Majesty was a wise choice indeed.”
A sheepish smile tugged at my lips. “Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling a bit abashed by their praise. “So, how are the preparations coming along? Is everything in order?”
“Yes, everything is going quite smoothly,” Teodore assured me. “The brazier and platform for the sacred flame have been installed, and the carriages await our departure.”
“All that remains is for us to proceed to the capital square,” Ed added.
Everything was progressing as planned. “Excellent,” I said, smiling warmly. Which means the pressure is now on me to perform my duty well, I mused, a thought that was decidedly not as warm. I turned my gaze out the window to hide my unease. Through the panes of glass, I could see that the streets of the royal capital were alive with vibrant energy, the air thick with the joyous anticipation of Noel. From this lofty perch, I could glimpse the dancing lights and bustling figures below, their merriment palpable even from afar.
The roads had all been prepared for the upcoming parade. The event was intended to raise public awareness of the newly established Faith Council and its Saint. Although the carriage ride was essentially little more than a scenic route through the town to reach the square, it was undoubtedly a parade, one that positioned me as the central figure to be celebrated...
“It’s almost time.” Ed’s voice gently pulled me from my thoughts. “Let’s go, Lina.”
As he glanced from the clock on the wall—one that signaled that it was an hour past noon—back to me, he extended a hand. Shifting the scepter, I reached out and entwined his firm, large fingers with mine, allowing him to help me to my feet. The warmth of his touch was enough to soothe the turmoil churning within me.
Now then, let’s bring this affair to fruition, shall we?
As our party exited the castle and approached the convoy of carriages awaiting us outside, I found myself filled with determination. I held on to that feeling as we settled ourselves comfortably, and then the convoy set off, with Pyreborn knights and paladins leading the way and guarding the rear.
As we rolled away from the castle and into the city streets, the pace of the parade slowed to a deliberate crawl, allowing the people to take in the sight of us. Teodore’s magical barrier hummed softly, a protective shield shimmering around us, while rows of knights and paladins lined the streets to ensure that no one could breach the convoy. I peeked out from the small carriage window, donning a kind smile and waving regally to the crowd that had gathered. That simple gesture seemed to stir something deep within the people’s hearts, and their cheers grew louder, their returning waves more fervent.
Sitting across from me, Teodore’s lips quirked ever so slightly upwards. “Your popularity is truly frightening to behold, Lady Saint. The complete absence of mana-beast attacks last night seems to have solidified the citizenry’s faith in your power.” His attention remained fixed on the spectacle outside, his eyes unusually wide with a rare expression of surprise, as if even he hadn’t anticipated such a turnout.
Celestia had been steadily embattled by mana-beasts ever since my departure, so the reprieve the people now enjoyed in my presence must have seemed like nothing short of a miracle. And yet...I couldn’t quite bring myself to feel responsible for this outcome, given that it was one that had occurred without my conscious intent. The cheers, though warm, rang a little hollow in my ears because I felt that I was being praised for a deed I hadn’t truly accomplished. Not to mention that it was my absence that had allowed the mana-beast scourge to take root in the first place...