Grant me Your Grace Chapter 72

High Priest Aaron ultimately met his end in the underground prison.

 

Though he had been imprisoned due to the incident involving the divine gift, everyone agreed that Aaron was a high priest worthy of respect. 

 

The entire Baran Kingdom was plunged into sorrow over his tragic death.

 

Even though he died in the underground prison, his title as high priest had not been revoked, so the Emperor ordered that he be given funeral rites befitting his rank. 

 

Thanks to this, the temple received Aaron’s body and conducted a solemn funeral.

 

At the head of the funeral procession stood Priest Hovan. Having witnessed Aaron’s final moments, he was overcome with emotion, unable to hold back tears as he remembered Aaron’s noble heart, which had embraced him until the very end.

The other priests, who had never before seen the usually stoic Hovan shed a single tear, were all the more grief-stricken, their sorrow bursting forth in loud lamentations.

 

The long funeral procession left the temple and headed toward the desert, the embrace of the goddess Nuit. 

 

Even on such a day, Dahlia, confined to the imperial palace and unable to leave, stood alone in black robes, bidding farewell to Aaron on his final journey.

 

“May you find eternal rest in the arms of Goddess Nuit…”

 

Dahlia silently shed tears, praying deeply for Aaron’s peace. 

 

The regret of never being able to give him her blood weighed heavily on her heart, making the pain all the more unbearable.

 

Just as the funeral procession disappeared into the distance and Dahlia continued to weep in prayer, Aaron’s final gift arrived.

 

“Your Highness… a messenger from Mudhat has arrived.”

 

At Bertha’s words, Dahlia’s tear-filled eyes trembled faintly.

 

Mudhat Osahar was the head of a founding noble family of the Baran Kingdom and one of the central aristocrats—someone Dahlia had long sought for cooperation in Aaron’s name.

 

With trembling hands, Dahlia untied the letter fastened to the messenger bird’s leg.

 

As she unfolded the paper and read its contents, overwhelming emotion made her shut her eyes tightly.

 

It was a message from the Mudhat family, declaring their willingness to lend her their strength.

 

Mudhat Osahar, who had hesitated even after receiving Aaron’s plea, had finally decided to stake the nation’s fate on Dahlia only after witnessing the High Priest’s death.

 

Had Aaron truly sacrificed himself for this? Unable to share this fortunate news with him any longer, Dahlia could only weep helplessly.

 

Gathering her composure with difficulty, she hastily took out a fresh sheet of paper. To ensure no one could easily read the letter, she wrote it in goat’s milk before carefully folding it and handing it to Bertha.

“Bertha, deliver this to the stable keeper. If anyone finds it suspicious, tell them you came to fetch some horsehair to decorate reed stems.”

 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

Bertha concealed the letter discreetly and slipped out.

 

Over the past few months, even while confined to the imperial palace, Dahlia had been laying plans in secret to oppose Saltar. 

 

Just as Aaron had advised, she had sent her blood to revive the dead lands across the kingdom, little by little, while quietly seeking out those who would stand by her.

 

Among them, she had invested the most effort in Hayad Miftah.

 

After learning the secret of the blood, Miftah—who had seemed ready to expose the truth to the Emperor or Crown Prince at any moment—had, unexpectedly, remained silent. Perhaps he was still deep in thought, weighing Dahlia’s words.

 

To ensure Miftah would firmly side with her, Dahlia prepared a stronger card—his lover, whom he had no choice but to leave behind in the Hayad Kingdom.

 

Through Aaron, she had recruited the royal stable master, a man well-versed in all kinds of rumors. He revealed the whereabouts of Miftah’s lover, who had entered a brothel of her own will but barely managed to hide as a kitchen maid.

 

He also informed Dahlia that Miftah’s lover had suffered a miscarriage long ago and was still grappling with severe aftereffects. 

 

Thanks to this, Dahlia could heal her with her own blood and had already moved her to a safe location scouted in advance by Bertha, who was well-acquainted with the local terrain.

Prince Miftah, now it’s your turn to make a decision.

 

If Miftah cooperated willingly, she would safely return his lover. But if negotiations fell apart, Dahlia would have no choice but to make a cruel decision.

 

After all, she too was being driven to the edge of a cliff.

 

The way to protect what each held dear was already clearly set. All she could do was hope Miftah wouldn’t let greed cloud his judgment and ruin everything.

 

Until then… please, let time be on our side.

 

Before she knew it, Dahlia found herself praying again and again as she gazed at Aaron’s coffin, now buried in the desert—the embrace of the Nuit goddess.

 

💫

 

The Emperor’s audience chamber was filled with a heavier silence than usual when Mindhu arrived.

 

“Your Majesty, the High Priest’s funeral has concluded,” he reported.

 

‘Whew…’ 

 

Khankundra exhaled a long stream of shisha smoke, his half-lidded eyes staring blankly into the air. The image of Aaron, who had personally given him the coronation blessing on the day he ascended the throne, flickered hazily before his eyes.

 

“In the end… everything has come to this.”

 

At the Emperor’s meaningful words, Mindhu studied him with an odd gaze. Khankundra’s pupils, clouded by the blue-gold powder, were steeped in deep regret.

 

Drawing another deep breath of shisha smoke into his lungs, Khankundra exhaled as if sighing.

 

“Mindhu.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

“Do you remember that day? Before I was promised the throne—when I was still the third prince… The time I spent like a wart in the palace, scorned by my elder brothers.”

 

Though faded into the past, the memory of that day remained vivid. The dangerous undertone of the conversation made Mindhu’s brow twitch.

 

“Your Majesty, why bring up such matters now? That is all in the past.”

 

“Back then, when I discovered that thing… before informing Father, I first sought out Aaron, who was still a priest at the time. The High Priest back then was too greedy to be trusted.”

 

Hearing this for the first time, Mindhu’s expression stiffened. 

 

Glancing around to ensure no one else was listening, he lowered his voice.

 

“So… Aaron also knew about that thing?”

 

Instead of answering, the Emperor exhaled another plume of shisha smoke. But the deep, sunken look in his eyes was confirmation enough.

 

‘Ha…’

 

A short, hollow breath escaped Mindhu’s lips.

 

“Aaron simply told me to remain silent. To follow the natural order. That ‘it’ must never become mine.”

 

Khankundra’s eyes grew distant, as if sifting through the haze of a long-forgotten past.

 

“I’ve thought of that day from time to time, but today, Aaron’s voice from back then rings in my ears as vividly as if he were speaking now.”

 

“Your Majesty.”

 

“Had I listened to him then, had I not made the same mistake as ‘that day’… If only I had, so many things might have been different.”

 

At the Emperor’s words, Mindhu struggled to suppress a ragged breath.

 

The Emperor regretted the past. 

 

Yet it was precisely because of that day that Mindhu had gained his trust and risen to his current position. If that regret were an arrow, there was no doubt where its tip would strike first.

 

Mindhu hastily forced a reassuring smile and desperately tried to soothe the Emperor.

 

“Such words are unworthy of you, Your Majesty. You have always made the right decisions, and ‘that day’ was merely one of the trials you had to overcome to become the great ruler you are.”

 

“That shackle has tormented me for far too long. Now, I wish only to be free… but the path back is too distant to retrace.”

 

“Your Majesty, now more than ever, you must steel your mind and body. You must embrace the sorrow of your people and prepare to appoint the next High Priest.”

 

How did I climb to this position? How did I turn this suspicious, guarded Emperor into a puppet in my hands?

 

I can’t let it all crumble now.

 

“Your Majesty, the loss of an old friend must weigh heavily on your heart, but you are the foundation of this empire. If the foundation wavers, how will this nation endure?”

 

“Mindhu… As always, you alone understand my heart.”

 

Fortunately, Khankundra looked at Mindhu with eyes full of deep trust. Just as Mindhu inwardly smirked and prepared to further manipulate the Emperor’s heart—

 

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince and the plague investigator request an audience.”

 

It was the Crown Prince, Chara, who had been sent to oversee the High Priest’s funeral rites. 

 

It seemed he had crossed paths with the priests who were investigating the plague while tending to the afflicted.

 

Mindhu, acting as solicitously as a parent, adjusted the Emperor’s robes himself before ushering the two inside.

 

“We pay our respects to His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor.”

 

Crown Prince Saltar and the investigator, a priest from the temple, bowed formally to the Emperor. 

 

After Saltar briefly reported on the funeral proceedings, the plague investigator immediately began his report.

 

“Your Majesty. While investigating the recent unknown plague in the land of Baran, we discovered that this disease bears a striking resemblance to an endemic illness found in the nation of Mohron.”

 

“An endemic illness in Mohron?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty. The people of Mohron, who dwell deep underground, rarely see the sun and suffer from a disease that affects the lungs and skin. However, the Mohronites have developed immunity and experience only mild symptoms, while outsiders are highly vulnerable—once infected, they often succumb quickly. Upon examining the symptoms, we found them nearly identical to those of the current plague.”

 

At the investigator’s words, the Emperor’s brow furrowed.

 

Mohron—wasn’t that the subterranean kingdom with which Hayad had recently established trade? 

 

Before receiving Hayad’s report, he hadn’t even known such a nation existed. The only one who could have brought Mohron’s disease to Baran was Miftah.

 

“Summon Prince Miftah of Hayad at once. I must question him in detail regarding this matter.”

 

“At once, Your Majesty!”

 

At the Emperor’s command, a eunuch hurried off to fetch Miftah.