In our kingdom, there is a precious orb that only responds to the presence of a Saintess.
Saintesses only appear once at a time and are only replaced upon their death. This is a fundamental truth with hundred years of precedence.
The orb chooses the Saintess, and healing prowess dwells to those fortunate to be chosen.
It is said that the presence of a Saintess alone makes a country stable, and thus, all of the previous saintesses were wed to the royal family.
Not by force. They maintain free will when it comes to marital choices, but with such rich and handsome princes chasing, how many of them will even think to refuse?
In fact, the latest saintess who recently met her demise last week was also married to the king’s younger brother.
She was said to have been dearly loved by her husband and led a happy life.
All these should be none of my concern though.
I am Aileen Conrad, of six and ten years of age, with the selection ceremony unfolding before my very pair of disinterested eyes.
Now in front of me was Maynard, the first prince and also my former fiancée, and the lady delicately led by him by the hip was Lina, the count lady most expected to be chosen by the precious orb.
The lovely lady who looks to be the very personage of gracefulness, stared at the prince with her moist eyes; her cheeks blooming in a pink hue.
I could almost see myself spitting in disdain at such a scene. After all, the very next day of the late saintess’ passing, it was due to this woman that I was dragged down from the pedestal of my engagement with the first prince.
I am a ducal lady who led all her life knowing that she will be wed to a prince four years older than her.
Now no longer though. My engagement with him is as relevant as a blank piece of paper. The reason is simple. The departure of the late saintess will lead to a new selection for her replacement, and Sir Maynard, who is most passionate about their existence, easily cast me aside in favor of Lina, the likeliest candidate to be chosen.
He summoned me one day and flatly uttered to my face that our engagement is political in nature, and with no love between us, there is no harm done.
Well perhaps to him, absolutely none indeed! But this leaves me to deal with the label, ‘the woman thrown away by the prince’, sticking to my name my whole life. Has he not even considered that?
Just the memory of it sours my mood.
Even the sympathizing glare of Lina—now Sir Maynard’s fiancée—makes me absolutely livid!
Why must I be exposed to the pitiful eyes of a mere count lady, and implicitly told how everything was her fault for being the saintess.
She is not even the saintess yet, strictly speaking! Why does she speak as though everything was already good and settled?
By the by, I was also called to the selection ceremony being one of the candidates as well.
Of course, it’s also possible that none of the ladies summoned will be chosen by the jewel. In such cases, the ceremony will be repeatedly held numerous times until one is chosen.
Most of the ladies chosen are those with healing prowess—which is to say the same for me—but the one with the most talent in it was Lina.
Because of it, she had ever since been treated as a saintess, principally by the first prince, and followed by all the adherents of the faith, who are, at this very moment, gently and thoroughly explaining to her the ceremony’s procedure.
Couldn’t they just hasten things up and get this over already?
Do they not notice the cold piercing glares of the waiting ladies, which naturally, includes mine? They must be severely insensitive.
We are all waiting on our toes here the entire time, and the surrounding compassionate eyes for the abandoned fiancée are starting to feel unbearably prickly.
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Once the saintess selection is over with, perhaps, I should settle myself in some convent. There’s hardly a chance of any decent engagement proposals coming to a lady discarded by the prince anyway, and I would rather live a nun than settle to eccentric men.
Besides, I would be spared from the spectacle of Lina smiling lovely next to her dear prince.
I guess it is somewhat sad to think that I only realized my modest maiden’s love for Maynard after he had thrown me away.
But of course, I’ve long tossed away any semblance of such sentiments towards a wretched man who easily discarded his fiancee on such flimsy grounds!
However, I would have to admit that I cannot help but feel sullen about it.
That’s why I’d like to refrain from being exposed to the sight of their lovey-dovey married life. If I would be hard-pressed to show my face to them regardless of my will upon my marriage to any noble houses, shouldn’t I like the idea of living in a quiet but gentle life in some obscure convent better?
My father is extremely doting to me after all, and the matter with Maynard completely enraged him. Perhaps if I insist on wanting to live in a monastery before his anger settles, he might be predisposed to give in.
Mhm, that is quite a great idea, if I may.
It’s settled then. After this ceremony, to the convent, I go!
—is what I’ve been thinking, but apparently, the ceremony went onwards while I was lost in thought.
Respectfully led by Sir Meynard by her hand, Lady Lina stands right in front of the orb and places her hands in front of it.
Mhm?
I inclined my head in wonder.
The orb does not offer any response.
Lina seems to be more flustered; she raised the entire orb from the pedestal up and desperately felt up its surface.
Next to her was Sir Maynard, staring at the precious orb with a dumbfounded surprise.
Oh my, Oh my.
Does this mean to tell that Lina—was not chosen?
Serves you right~!
I rose acclamation from the very innermost of my heart. Avoiding the surrounding’s notice, I clandestinely stuck my tongue towards Lina, who was seemingly on the verge of tears, and Maynard whose very spirit seemed to have left his body.
Just seeing those expressions painted to their faces alone makes this endeavor worthy.
The surrounding tumult that enveloped the entire temple almost complemented my loud laughter.
Ohohohhoho~!
Truly, well-deserved just desserts it was!
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