CHAPTER 01
It was an early summer morning.
The breeze was nice. As far as wedding days went, it couldn’t have been more perfectly chosen.
But atop the monastery’s bell tower, the face of Priest Marid—who was placing the bridal veil over Erish’s head—looked as miserable as a dog caught in an autumn storm.
“You poor thing.”
Priest Marid was someone who had practically raised Erish since she was a young child.
No wonder his eyes looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.
Why the long face on such a happy day?
Today’s bride, Erish, smiled brightly.
“Why do you say I’m a poor thing, Father? This is the nicest dress I’ve ever worn! Isn’t it gorgeous? Even Liana from the village below has never worn anything like this!”
As she spoke, Erish lifted her skirt lightly to show it off.
The silk, as fine and beautiful as a dragonfly’s wing, was so luxurious that even people in the surrounding areas had likely never seen anything like it.
Of course, it was only natural that Erish’s wedding dress would be this extravagant. She was about to become the bride of the Duke of Aachen—the Elector.
A family powerful enough to elect the Emperor. The real surprise was that the wedding was being held in such a remote monastery.
But hearing that only made Priest Marid’s eyes even more watery.
“Damn it. So you’re happy? Is that it?”
He smacked Erish’s shoulder lightly with each word.
“Ouch, ouch. That hurts, you know.” Erish scrunched her face playfully, still smiling.
“Why not be happy? You even got me two grooms, remember? If it weren’t for that, I’d be an old maid by now, never getting married.”
“That’s because you were going to become a priestess!”
Priest Marid shouted, then let out a groan and pressed his forehead. But he wasn’t wrong.
Erish was already twenty years old.
Most women her age already had two or three children, but it wasn’t too late for priesthood either.
But that was no longer an option—because she was getting married.
There were many complicated reasons why Erish, once set on becoming a priestess, was suddenly getting married. But we’ll skip those for now.
What matters right now is one simple fact:
She had two grooms.
Of course, she wasn’t going to live with both of them.
‘If I did, I’d be struck down by the Empire’s one and only god, Eridrahan.’
Erish glanced outside the bell tower.
The vast wheat field below the monastery glowed golden, ready for harvest.
Red poppies bloomed alongside the wheat beneath the blue sky, and a circular area had been cleared right in the middle of the field. The path that led down to the village was covered in wildflowers and scenic.
The reason they’d cleared just the center of the field was obvious—
That was where the wedding banquet would take place.
The tiny figures moving around like ants in the distance were likely monks, village women from below, and some noble servants.
Their black silhouettes bustled about, stacking altars and sprinkling sand across the ground in neat lines. Their shouting carried on the west wind all the way up to the bride and priest in the bell tower.
“Hey! Who uses that kind of fabric for a wedding? Get the lace we use for mass!”
“What are these flowers?! Bring more!”
There were many figures rushing about the wedding grounds—but a few, noticeably, were not moving at all.
And among them stood one man who immediately caught Erish’s eye.
Sparkling—her first groom.
Philrod Aachen.
To clarify, it wasn’t that he sparkled metaphorically in her eyes.
He literally sparkled.
His head did, anyway.
“…That shameless bald middle-aged man…”
Beside her, Priest Marid mumbled a curse.
That’s right. Erish’s first groom, Philrod, was old enough to be her father.
And bald, to boot.
Erish nodded in agreement as she looked down at him.
“Right? Look at poor Aunt Laura carrying heavy boxes by herself. Would it kill him to help?”
When the marriage to Philrod was first decided, the priests of Windrock Monastery, including Marid, were vehemently opposed.
And while it wasn’t only because of the age gap or the baldness… those were definitely the biggest reasons.
At first, Erish had resigned herself to the situation. But now, she realized that Priest Marid had been right.
Philrod wasn’t even lifting a finger while the older Laura struggled beside him.
“Mean old man. He looks plenty strong, too.”
“Erish… that’s not what I meant…”
Priest Marid looked at her with a baffled expression, like she was some strange creature. He muttered under his breath, “Ugh, raising you in a monastery really backfired…”
“Anyway, don’t worry about that. What you should be focused on is your real groom—the one who’s on his way. Got it?”
Priest Marid shook his head and gave her a firm warning.
Erish grinned.
“You mean the kidnapper?”
“Don’t call him that! I mean… well…”
Priest Marid sighed in defeat, unable to find a better word.
“Sigh… what can I say? You’re not wrong. This is technically a kidnapping marriage.”
That’s right. Erish’s second groom was on his way to kidnap her.
What that means is—
Priest Marid and Abbot Wilbert couldn’t bear to see that old bald man become Erish’s husband, so they went and found her a younger groom.
The problem was, that bald man had power.
Again, Philrod was the son of the Duke of Aachen, an Elector. After much debate, they’d decided that the best solution was for Erish to be “kidnapped” today.
By her second groom.
“Erish, don’t be afraid. I heard he’s strong and handsome.”
Priest Marid sounded more nervous than anyone. Erish tilted her head.
“I’m fine. I’m not scared.”
The only thing she worried about was—how would the second groom reach her?
Windrock Monastery sat atop a cliff, and there was only one path leading up to it.
And that path ran right through the wheat field where the wedding was being held.
Anyone trying to reach the monastery would be spotted by Philrod without question.
That made the kidnapping… tricky.
“Don’t worry. Your real groom is a brave knight. He said he’d climb the cliff quietly.”
Since when was stealth a knightly virtue?
Erish was curious, but didn’t ask. There was no need. Priest Marid was the type to worry endlessly, even if no one prompted him.
Besides—
“When the time comes, I’ll go lower the rope for your real groom. You just wait here, okay?”
Just as expected, Priest Marid was full of anxious words. He walked to the opposite edge of the bell tower and peeked down the cliff.
Erish joined him and looked down as well.
It was dizzyingly steep. Below lay a rocky coastline and endless sea. Being at the Empire’s western edge, there’d be no one to save you if you fell in.
“If the real groom falls from there…”
“Don’t say such scary things!”
Marid jumped in fright. Understandable. Erish replied with concern.
“The villagers will have a hard time…”
“Huh?”
“Remember what Village Chief Ben said? If someone falls off the cliff, it takes four days to retrieve the body. Did you forget?”
Marid’s expression turned serious.
“Erish. I didn’t want to say this, but…”
“Go ahead.”
“Your future husband has his work cut out for him.”
Erish burst into laughter.
“Oh, come on, raising me wasn’t that hard, was it?”
“…Can’t say.”
Marid feigned disinterest, but Erish knew.
She knew how much Priest Marid adored her, how much Abbot Wilbert cared, even if he never said it aloud.
Every priest at Windrock Monastery had loved and cherished her.
“…Ah, look at the time.”
That’s why… it was hard.
She had wanted to live here with them, peacefully, for a long time.
“Erish, I’ll go lower the rope. Stay here. I’ll be back quickly. And…”
Priest Marid hesitated before continuing.
“No matter what happens, know that the Divine loves you.”
Erish smiled.
“Of course. I believe that, Father Marid.”
But the next words never left her mouth.
But Father…
If the Divine really loved me… wouldn’t He have let me stay in this monastery?
Because I truly…
She didn’t finish the thought. Instead, she closed her eyes.
It’s said that in the western provinces, brides pray for divine blessings and a happy marriage from the bell tower on their wedding day.
She’d come up here under that pretense, so she figured she might as well say something like a prayer.
And so Erish prayed instead:
“Lord Eridrahan, since things have come to this, please just let me be kidnapped safely.”
She meant it with all her heart.
Meanwhile, below the monastery cliff—
“Damn it, who builds a monastery in a place like this?”
With a grunt, Lahan Norwich, heir to the Grand Duchy of Lachez—and Erish’s second groom—was scaling the cliff.
