When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

The coal stove burned fiercely, the heat and humid cold air at the window offset each other, condensing a layer of fog on the windowpane.

Sitting in front of the window, Hilov's fingers holding the quill were frozen cold.

Ink flowed from the tip of the pen onto the hemp paper, spreading into a large blot, but she seemed not to see it, still staring distractedly at the wall.

It wasn't until a "crack" sound from the burning kindling in the coal stove shattered the moment, did Hilov return from her trance.

Looking down at the ink stains on the paper, Hilov showed no expression, as she did not comprehend what an expression was.

Her mother never showed expressions, and neither did the puppets or Ah Fu, who were her family and friends.

It was not until she met Horn and those unexpected guests that she realized humans had so many facial expressions to convey emotions.

Tossing the waste paper aside, Hilov ordered Ah Fu to shovel a scoop of peat into the coal stove.

The entire manor villa was empty and deserted, hardly anyone stayed behind, almost everyone had gone to the small town across the Parra River.

Before she went to the study to write 'Holy Path Savior Teachings,' she had already spent a long time on the terrace.

When thunderous applause erupted from the theater over there, she knew it was villagers and townsfolk performing a play.

When thunderous scolding followed, she knew it was the six elders' scoring session.

Then, after the octagonal cage battle ended, and following Elder Sachis's lingering defense of "I didn't hit him on the nose," a melodious flute sounded.

Hilov knew that was what the book described as a ball, only in the book it was a nobles' ball, but here it was a commoners' ball.

Such a bustling scene was not hers.

She went downstairs and wandered aimlessly through the palace, the dark corridors, rigid puppets, and curtains fluttering in the wind.

Everything seemed to return to the time before Horn had arrived.

"Ah Fu, I'll stroll by myself, don't follow me."

Hilov ordered Ah Fu, and the loyal, blind Blood Slave released the wheelchair handles.

Passing through the garden, past the little Angel with the turning birds, went under the elevated aqueduct, the wheelchair wheels crushed the crisp dry grass in the cold.

The sky was covered in clouds, not a single star or moonlight peeked through, and Hilov wandered aimlessly alone in the garden.

This garden palace had changed so much from a month ago, such as the lab shed with clockwork rifles erected on the former open space, and several piles of scattered parts in a corner of the courtyard.

A few struggling Artisans were busying themselves, adjusting a large clock at the main hall's entrance.

According to Horn, this large clock would have one placed in the Prayer Hall, one in the Mechanical Palace, one in the barracks, and one in the workshop area.

The four large clocks would synchronize their times, when Hilov passed by, she glanced and according to Horn's 12-hour timing method, it was now past 11 at night.

Not knowing how long she had wandered in the darkness, Hilov suddenly found herself standing unknowingly at the entrance of the palace.

The brass rooster outside the door was still broken, but Hilov dared not touch or repair it, because it was outside the door.

The wide door was open, with two Guards standing sentry.

Looking outside, she could still see some Artisans carrying something, running back and forth on the small bridge over the Parra River.

Turning the wheelchair, Hilov stopped a foot away from the gate, her gaze quietly fixed on the steps and columns.

With stiff fingers gripping the wheelchair's rims, the Wolf Woman moved her forearms mechanically like a puppet.

The wheels slowly turned, surprisingly inching Hilov ever closer to the doorway.

The icy wind blew the fur on her wolf ears back and forth, she stiffened in the wheelchair, tail over her legs, her tail fur seemed to explode.

An inch, two inches, three inches, the edge of the wooden wheels got ever closer to the line of the doorway, and finally, only a short inch of space remained.

But the wheels seemed to lock in place, as if an invisible wall stood before her, she couldn't move any further forward, only remaining stuck still.

She smelled blood, that night, when the red Longsword slashed across her knee, in the pink flesh she saw her grey-white leg bone.

Her mother instructed Ah Fu to gnaw away her two snow-white calves, she could only tilt her head up to see outside the doorway, avoiding looking at her empty legs.

Since then, she fell in love with books, because the places her legs couldn't take her, books could.

"Ah—there's some progress," Hilov muttered to herself in relief, turning the hand rims backward, "Next year at this time, I must go out."

Forcing the wheelchair's direction, Hilov turned around, heading back towards the palace.

"Ah Fu, Ah Fu!"

Hilov called Ah Fu's name, but heard hurried footsteps behind her.

She turned sideways and looked back, only to see Jeanne charging over like a rushing ox cart.

"Jeanne, why are you here, tonight... Ah—" Before Hilov finished, Jeanne suddenly leaped up, thrusting both arms through the wheelchair and lifting it high over her head.

"No time to explain." Jeanne lifted Hilov high, striding swiftly back towards the villa.

Sitting in the wheelchair, Hilov finally understood the feeling of a small boat amidst raging waves, as described in the books.

She tightly gripped the wheelchair's armrests, her tail tucked beneath her, her waist and back pressed against the chair, afraid of falling from such a high place.

The wheelchair sped forward, cold wind blowing against her face.

Hilov's nose twitched as she barely managed to peek out from the edge of the wheelchair, sniffing: "Jeanne, have you been drinking?!"

"A few small cups of potato root wine mixed with mead." Jeanne's little face was flushed, she laughed foolishly, "Hurry up, hurry up, let me show you something good."

Hilov sat in the wheelchair, terrified, helplessly carried at high speed by the intoxicated Jeanne.

When Jeanne leapt into the main palace's entrance, Hilov even felt for a second her bottom leaving the cushion.

Amidst the clattering and jostling movements, Hilov and Jeanne finally reached their destination — the terrace.

Due to the height of the door, once at this spot, Jeanne could only set Hilov down, pushing her onto the terrace.

"Jeanne, why did you bring me here?"

"You'll see soon enough." Hands on her hips, Jeanne confidently wheeled Hilov to the edge of the terrace.

Hilov turned her head reluctantly to look ahead, and then she froze.

The Mechanical Palace was perched atop a small mound, and below the mound, a dragon formed by torches and lanterns was slowly descending along the slope.

Thousands of young men and women, still carrying the passion and joy from the ball, had expressions on their faces that Hilov had never seen before.

Leading from the front was Horn, bearing a torch high.

Under Horn's guidance, Pope Country's citizens entered the Mechanical Palace for the first time, passing through the garden and pools, traversing the Ethereal Tower, arriving before the palace.

"Dong!"

Hilov heard the sound of the walnut mechanical clock, marking the time of 11:59 PM on December 31, 1444.

Thousands of young men and women gathered inside the palace, which was initially empty and dark, suddenly filled with the noise of voices and flickering firelight.

Quite a few recognized Jeanne and Hilov standing on the terrace and raised their hands high, waving vigorously at them.

"Your Highness Jeanne, I'm here!"

"Your Highness, come down and join the countdown."

"Your Highness Hilov, come play with us, I'll teach you to dance."

Jeanne leaned out from the terrace, excitedly greeting them and responding to their calls.

Holding onto the edge of the terrace railing, Hilov looked at the young people of Pope Country below, her tail and ears drooping softly.

"Countdown, countdown!" Horn shouted, leading all the youth present to shout along.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Dong—"

The New Year's bell suddenly rang out, everyone present cheered and embraced each other: "Happy New Year Festival!"

"Happy New Year Festival, Hilov!" Jeanne raised her hands in cheer, turning to embrace Hilov seated in the wheelchair, drunkenly asking, "This is the New Year Festival gift from Horn and me, how is it? Do you like it?"

"..."

"Hilov, are you, are you smiling?"

"Is this a smile?" In the flickering firelight, on her poker-like face, Hilov's mouth cracked into a stiff smile. She touched her rising mouth corner, "Is this a smile?"

Jeanne didn't answer Hilov's question; instead, the citizens below shouted up.

"What was that? Is it raining?"

"No, it's snow."

"It's snowing, it's snowing!"

Everyone looked up towards the sky.

Almost falling in sync with the bell, one after another, snowflakes drifted from the nighttime clouds.

The first snowfall of 1445 quietly arrived at the end of 1444.