<Chapter 90>

The grains ripened fully, and fruits hung heavily on the branches, sweet and luscious in the autumn air.

In the capital of the Empire, the harvest festival was held to celebrate the collection of provisions that would last the year.

This festival, the largest among all the capital’s celebrations, was something the city’s farmers looked forward to while enduring the hardships of a year’s labor.

This was no exaggeration; if the year’s harvest were poor, the festival would not be held at all.

Fortunately, this year’s yield barely managed to be abundant. As a result, the central square of the capital was adorned with a massive stage, hundreds of stalls, and decorations made from golden sheaves of grain and vibrant orange pumpkins.

“Apples for sale! Fresh, big, and red—come and get them!”

“Hot potatoes roasted with sugar and butter! So delicious and savory—try some before you go!”

At the stalls, which were open to all capital residents, foods and crafts made from the year’s harvest were on display.

From plain roasted potatoes and corn to delicacies enhanced with sugar, salt, or butter, there was something for everyone.

People sat on chairs placed along the streets, enjoying tasty dishes while watching plays performed on the stage.

“I was worried since we had so little rain this summer, but at least we have enough to scrape by.”

“Scrape by? This is a bountiful year! At least we don’t have to fear starvation.”

“All thanks to the blessings of God, no doubt! Hahaha!”

Around the large fountain, children played gleefully, their laughter filling the air. Adults looked on, chatting loudly and cheerfully.

When a band took to the stage to play lively music, the crowd joined in song and held hands, dancing together.

Thus, the central square overflowed with the vibrant energy and joyous sounds fitting for the harvest festival.

But within the Great Temple, where God was worshipped, the atmosphere remained calm and composed as always.

This wasn’t because the citizens had abandoned the temple to join the festivities.

On the contrary, even those who didn’t pray regularly made it a point to visit the Great Temple on the day of the harvest festival.

If the year’s harvest was bountiful, they offered prayers of gratitude; if it was poor, they prayed for an abundant harvest in the coming year.

In return, they presented offerings from their harvest to God.

Whether grain, fruit, vegetables, meat, leather, wood, or even minerals—everything was considered suitable as an offering.

And if one had nothing to give, even a single coin, no matter how small, was offered.

This practice stemmed from a superstition, not entirely unfounded, that all things on this land were creations of God. To enjoy these creations without giving back was said to incur God’s wrath.

After offering their tributes and prayers, worshippers received freshly baked bread and fruit wine from the temple priests.

“Those who have completed their prayers and offerings, please come this way to receive bread and fruit wine.”

“One per person, please. Remember, God is watching, so maintain order.”

Compared to the immense amount of offerings given to the temple, the small loaves of bread and cups of fruit wine seemed modest in return.

Yet no one complained. Even when the priests folded up the tents, declaring that the day’s supply had run out before sunset, there were no grievances.

Who would dare cause a commotion in the temple? After all, God was watching.

Thus, while the central square brimmed with vitality and cheer, and the Great Temple remained serene, the harvest festival at the imperial palace was a spectacle of sheer opulence.

“Announcing the arrival of the Marquis of Kotis and the Marchioness of Kotis!”

As the booming voice of the herald caught everyone’s attention, the grand doors swung open to reveal the splendor of the Great Banquet Hall.

The first thing to catch one’s eye was the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Studded with large gemstones that sparkled with dazzling light, it was impossible to look away. Beyond it was the golden imperial throne, set on a platform like a centerpiece.

The dance floor beneath the platform was carpeted with luxurious red velvet, and towering pillars supporting the high ceiling were adorned with tapestries embroidered with the imperial crest.

Everywhere one looked, there were displays of wealth: magical fresh flower arrangements, golden candlesticks, masterfully framed paintings, silver tableware, and crystal glasses on pristine white tables.

Even the stair railings leading to the second floor were lined with gold-carved sculptures.

The extravagance seemed designed to flaunt imperial wealth, leaving attendees astonished.

Those who had just arrived made their way to mingling groups, opening conversations with an almost predictable topic:

“Is there an important announcement from the imperial family tonight?”

“We were just discussing that. Could it be the announcement of the Crown Prince’s engagement?”

“Oh my, oh my! Now that you mention it, wasn’t Duke Winstein’s marriage matter recently resolved?”

“The Crown Prince has had his fair share of hardships, hasn’t he? With Her Majesty the Empress having passed away long ago, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he’d taken a Crown Princess by now…”

At the sigh of one speaker, others followed suit with sighs of their own.

While some genuinely pitied the Crown Prince for not yet having a fiancée despite being of age, most lamented their own suffering from the long, drawn-out ordeal involving the Duke of Winstein’s marriage.

“Anyway, it’s such a relief that it was resolved. Otherwise, my niece would have had to postpone her social debut again.”

“Tell me about it! My daughter nearly fell ill from the stress.”

“My younger sister almost ran away and disappeared for good!”

Illness, escape, exile—these extreme anecdotes were shared with laughter only because everyone knew they were exaggerated.

This unwelcome drama began twelve years ago.

“You all know I’ve taken it upon myself to arrange a match for the Duke of Winstein, don’t you? Out of respect for the family, I expect every parent with an unmarried daughter to delay their engagements.”

The Emperor had set an example, canceling the Crown Prince’s engagement himself, ensuring no noble dared defy the imperial decree.

Parents with eligible daughters resorted to every measure imaginable to avoid sending their precious girls to the so-called Monster Duke.

Thus, when the Emperor finally declared, a year ago, that he would personally arrange the duke’s marriage, chaos erupted.

From noble ladies falling mysteriously ill to hastily arranged elopements, the capital’s high society froze in fear.

But relief came when a Saintess candidate was chosen as the Duke’s bride.

It was not mere rumor. The marriage was officially confirmed by the Duke’s emissary delivering the marriage certificate to the imperial palace. The Duchess of Winstein’s name was even recorded in the aristocratic registry.

Rejoicing ensued. Families celebrated not just the recovery of their daughters but the end of a long and dreadful chapter.

And now, the noble families’ focus had shifted back to finding matches for their sons and daughters.

Arriving early, some nobles began introducing their children to potential partners.

Meanwhile, more proactive young men and women ventured off alone, hoping to secure their own matches.

“Ahem… Excuse me, my lady. I’m Taylor Owens. If you’re unaccompanied, may I have a moment of your time?”

“Oh dear, my handkerchief! Thank you for picking it up. Isn’t this a fateful meeting…?”

Romance blossomed in one corner, while elsewhere, different conversations unfolded.
 

<To be continued>

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