Chapter Seventy-One: News from the Sacred Mountain

The totem on Mulan’s body blazed with light, the radiant knight standing behind him unfurled his wings, and Mulan, at the foot of the knight’s shadow, seemed to be standing at the very center of a shadowless lamp—there was not a trace of darkness about him, embodying brilliance and justice.

Once the oath was sworn, not a single drop of rain remained on Mulan; everything was evaporated by the searing aura. Perhaps it was the heat of that radiant light, for a faint flush appeared on Queen Nishelier’s face as she handed the sword back to Mulan, holding it horizontally. Mulan accepted the blade with both hands and slowly rose to his feet.

At that moment, the sacred music in the hall rose to its crescendo—the majestic tune of the organ echoed not only through the grand cathedral but also spilled out into the streets beyond, casting a divine glow over the autumn rain. The ceremony was impossibly grand; aside from the clergy, nearly a hundred nobles attended, including Queen Nishelier herself.

Though Mulan was the last to arrive, the route from the cathedral to the palace had long been cleared by guards leading orchestras, with music paving his way. The appearance of the radiant knight stunned all present. Now, as Mulan took the sword, the queen’s closest advisors led the applause, and the audience, shaken from their awe, joined in. They celebrated the investiture and took pride in witnessing such a radiant knight firsthand.

The archbishop and a priest carrying a silver basin stepped forward, the basin filled with gleaming, living holy water. They were to bestow blessings upon Mulan and all present. Wearing a solemn, dignified expression, Mulan approached the archbishop. His perspective was peculiar; to others, the holy water appeared pure, but to him, it was as if strange, lively energies writhed within, like worms twisting about.

The archbishop dipped a willow branch in the holy water and sprinkled it over Mulan, who placed a hand on his chest and accepted the baptism, letting the water fall upon his body and face. The archbishop then sprinkled holy water around the hall and upward; the water emitted waves of white light, echoing the shadow of the radiant knight and causing the entire cathedral to shimmer.

That sacred light poured out through the windows and doors; even those outside could see its brilliance.

“Congratulations, Sir Jonster!” “Congratulations, Mulan!”

“Congratulations, Radiant Knight!”

“Sir Knight, do visit my estate sometime!”

Both those familiar and unfamiliar with him congratulated Mulan amid the light, and Mulan, restored to his former spirit, responded with smiling salutes to the nobles and clergy to either side.

If not for the heavy rain, crowds of Digo’s citizens drawn by the holy light would certainly have gathered outside the cathedral, and the clergy would have bestowed blessings upon them as well. Yet even those nearby, witnessing the glow from within, felt they had witnessed a miracle, their hearts growing ever more devout, and the event would surely become fodder for conversation over meals or on the streets.

After the investiture, a banquet awaited in the palace, with more nobles expected to attend—a lively scene indeed.

Previously, some great nobles had grumbled that Queen Nishelier hosted such a grand ceremony for Mulan, even if he had risked his life to save her. But after witnessing the brilliance of the radiant knight, not a soul doubted the queen’s wisdom.

...

Preparations for the palace banquet had begun days in advance; the court chefs were frantically busy, while the stewards in charge of the festivities cursed and barked orders, directing a small army of servants and maids in emergency measures.

“Hurry up, move faster!”

“Get it inside, quick!” “Watch those silver utensils—”

“Be careful with that heated pot, and where’s the umbrella? Hold it up to shield the rain! It doesn’t matter if you’re soaked, but the soup inside took all day to make, and the banquet starts soon—we can’t redo it!”

“And you, go prepare new tablecloths; these are all wet. If there aren’t enough, dry them quickly!”

The steward, umbrella in hand, paced frantically through the rain, his voice nearly hoarse. The sudden downpour had ruined his plans; what was meant to be a combined indoor-outdoor banquet now had to be entirely moved indoors, and more halls needed to be cleared for dancing.

Noble carriages were already arriving at the palace, but the steward knew there was still time—the most important guests were still at the cathedral and wouldn’t arrive for at least another hour.

An hour and a half later, the palace banquet began in earnest. Nobles from all ranks within and beyond Digo attended, including bishops and archbishops from the cathedral—hundreds of guests, with even more servants and maids, and seven orchestras playing throughout.

As one of the banquet’s central figures, Mulan was never alone. Wherever he went, someone approached to greet or toast him; regardless of their rank or station, Mulan responded energetically and with polite smiles to each. Though the custom did not require draining one’s glass, even his small sips had left him thoroughly hydrated.

Mulan welcomed all comers, accepting their praise and sometimes initiating friendly conversation, blending into the noble circle as a true aristocrat skilled in social graces.

The guests were impeccably dressed, adorned with jewels, and the edges of each banquet hall were lined with tables laden with food and places to rest: piles of delicacies, whole roasted beasts, carefully prepared wines, perfectly shaped pastries and cakes, and attentive servants everywhere.

Yet the nobles’ manners surprised Mulan a little; discarded food littered the floor, even whole roast piglets thrown to the side of tables, and fruits abandoned in abundance. He had expected the palace banquet to be immaculate, but the nobles, in their excitement, were rather uninhibited.

It was truly a land flowing with honey and milk—luxury beyond measure!

“Sir Jonster, I am Susan, eldest daughter of the Alva family. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Today, Mulan was destined not to be invisible at the banquet—perhaps he never would be again.

Beside a table loaded with food, another young noblewoman greeted him, and Mulan smiled, raising his glass in salute.

“Hello, Lady Alva. Surely it is the beauty of the sea that has influenced Count Alva and your esteemed mother, to bless them with so enchanting a daughter. Your eyes shine like the ocean itself.”

Of course, Mulan couldn’t know every family, but he’d heard of some prominent ones—the famed “Sea Count” Alva among them.

Susan, glass in hand, was delighted, pressing a hand to her ample bosom with surprise, her cheeks quick to flush.

“I never thought you’d know me, Sir Knight. For the dance later, if you don’t have a partner…”

“Sir Jonster, so this is where you are—I need to speak with you!”

Nishelier strode over, dressed in a white gauze gown, her long train carried by two court maidens. As she approached, Mulan bowed slightly, and Susan hurriedly lifted her skirt to curtsy.

“Your Majesty!”

“Greetings, Your Majesty!”

“No need for ceremony. Come with me.”

Nishelier said little and turned to leave. Her presence halted those who had hoped to approach Mulan, and he apologized to the others before quickly following.

Nishelier strode ahead, Mulan at her right, and she glanced back to the left, then turned forward and departed.

Where Mulan had stood, Susan and those nearby had just risen. Susan looked toward the queen and Mulan’s departing figures; the queen had seemed to ignore her upon arrival, but on leaving, appeared to glance her way.

Mulan followed Nishelier through several banquet halls, passing by palace chambers, the crowds thinning, the noise of the festivities receding until only the occasional palace guard appeared in the corridors.

The queen said nothing, and Mulan, before her, would not dare to speak, simply following in silence.

“Are you comfortable with the court banquet, Sir Jonster? Made many friends, have you? For example, that lovely noblewoman just now.”

The queen turned suddenly with a smile and posed the question.

Mulan answered solemnly.

“Your servant comes from a remote, minor noble family and knows well that their goodwill is but a measure of value. Yet, in devotion to Your Majesty, I strive to blend into their ranks, to understand every noble, their preferences, and their weaknesses.”

Nishelier stopped and turned; Mulan halted and stood straight.

A sincere smile on her face, the queen reached to brush a crumb from Mulan’s shoulder.

“Today, I hope you’ll relax and truly enjoy yourself.”

“As you command!”

Mulan bowed his head, then followed the queen as she resumed her stride, finally arriving at an upper chamber with double red doors.

Two guards opened the doors. Nishelier led Mulan inside, where he saw two cathedral archbishops—one, Ewan’s teacher. Mulan entered without hesitation.

“You know both archbishops; they have news for you.”

The archbishops saluted the queen, and Nishelier returned their gesture in cathedral fashion. Mulan also saluted the two archbishops.

“Sir Jonster is here—go ahead, what is it?”

The archbishops exchanged glances, and Ewan’s teacher stepped forward.

“Sir Jonster, I have just received word, and with deep sorrow, I must tell you: Ewan has met with disaster!”

“What? What happened to Ewan—is he injured?”

Mulan stepped forward, anxious, as the archbishop’s face twisted in pain.

“News from the Holy Mountain—Ewan and four fellow priests, after their baptism, were attacked by cultists outside the sanctuary. All are missing; we have already found three bodies. Ewan’s chances are grim. These are the letters he sent home before…”

Mulan’s pupils dilated, disbelief written across his face. After a few stunned seconds, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles crackled.