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Since my mother's birthday is toward the end of May, there was usually plenty of breathing room. By that time, the scandals and incidents of high society had reached their peak, and as Tatyana once testified, there were plenty of sights to see as long as one could tell people's faces apart.
However, the order is a bit different this year. To be precise, it would be more accurate to say that a special event has been added.
The public prayer assembly of the Pope in Makhachkala.
"I was worried the colors might look a bit awkward... but the soft pearlescent glow of the cape and gloves pairs wonderfully with the white dress! It would be perfect if you wore the fifth—no, wait, the seventh pearl earring Her Highness Tatyana gifted you. The one with the slight dark gray tint."
"Even to my eyes, it looks absolutely fantastic on her! Haa... isn't it a relief, Fedora? Of course, we coordinated the combination beforehand, but... you know, there's a world of difference between roughly matching them with a glance and actually wearing them."
"Indeed. As expected, the Countess's skill and eye for detail are superb. I guarantee that a craze for this pearlescent cape will surely sweep through this spring. Every piece of fabric in a similar shade might be sold out."
"Haaam."
I tuned out the two of them and their tireless chatter, eventually letting out a long yawn as I succumbed to fatigue.
'Emma and Fedora really get along better than I do.'
A white dress paired with a white cape. A hat is forbidden, but gloves are mandatory. Low-heeled black leather shoes, accessories limited to silver and pearls, and lips that aren't too red, but merely a hint of pink.
The prayer attire of the upper class—especially for women—requires the most effort and time next to the coming-of-age attire.
The first reason is that the prayer attire of the nobles attending the gabrielism grand public prayer assembly in Makhachkala becomes a major topic of discussion throughout women's society.
The second is that, for that reason, every renowned salon is fully booked for two or three years in advance, leaving one with no choice but to prepare early.
'I believe they said Tatyana's prayer attire caused the biggest stir last year.'
I slowly examined the sketches and photographs Emma had meticulously clipped.
The cape Tatyana wore last year had a slightly more structured design than my outfit today, and perhaps because it was decorated with clean cream-colored leather straps, it looked far more pious.
Despite their pretenses, nobles care deeply about how others perceive them. They check every magazine to see whose name appeared, who was the best and who was the worst, and gossip about it everywhere. Even my mother mentions it at the dinner table, so by this point, it was practically a culture among women.
'I'm glad I persuaded them that day.'
Of course, Tatyana and Ivan's intentions did not change even after the announcement that I would marry a 59-year-old king. Only one thing changed: Vasily's will.
[Fine, Lara. Since you plead so desperately, I cannot refuse.]
[Brother!]
[Instead, I have a condition.]
[...A condition?]
[You get exactly one chance. If any problem arises regarding your safety because of this...]
He didn't finish the sentence. But if one uses a bit of brainpower, it's easy to guess. Basically... my safety must be absolutely guaranteed?
'Ugh. It is a bit scary.'
Looking back into the mirror, I stared at the tiny aquamarine attached to the top of the cape.
"It's pretty, Emma. The button color reminds me of your child's eyes."
At that, Emma, who had been straightening the folds of a hat, jumped up in surprise.
"Thank you, Your Highness! I knew you would recognize my intention this time as well. Once Theo grows a bit more, I'll be sure to bring him to greet Your Highness. He takes after me and is absolutely obsessed with pretty, cute dolls. If he sees Your Highness again, he'll be so happy he won't be able to stop smiling all day..."
After blushing and acting shy for a while (it's surprising she had the energy left to be shy), Emma looked up at me with worried eyes.
"But... Princess Larisa. Is it truly alright for my logo to be embroidered on the prayer attire Your Highness will wear? Even so, it is a garment with a sacred meaning..."
"What does it matter? They told me to wear a white prayer dress; they didn't say I couldn't have embroidery. Besides, it's only a size that people who are actually interested would notice."
I hadn't said anything particularly grand, but Emma's eyes quickly grew misty.
Fedora, who was pouring a new pot of tea, scolded Emma with a stern look.
"No! You must hold back your tears! Your makeup will smudge!"
"W-what should I do, Fedora? My heart is fluttering so much. To think that Princess Larisa has finally become an adult and is wearing a white prayer dress instead of black, and that my name is even embroidered on the cape..."
"Yes, yes."
"And on a day when a special grand public prayer assembly is held like today! I'm truly overwhelmed. If it weren't for Your Highness, I would never have had such heavenly luck!"
"Yes, yes."
The gabrielism grand public prayer assembly of Makhachkala.
This three-day assembly, where the Pope of gabrielism personally presides to deliver blessing prayers and propagate the doctrine, is one of the largest events representing Makhachkala. Because tens of thousands of believers flock from all over the country, it is also a time when the crime rate within the capital spikes.
It is originally held in early May, but this year it was moved forward by nearly a month for a special reason. What could be the reason important enough to control even the Pope's busy schedule?
Who else but Valentin? Indeed. It couldn't be anyone but Valentin.
I had forgotten for a moment, but among the modifiers that adorn Valentin, the one with the greatest fame is his status as a Prophet.
Though he is the Young Duke Dmitriev of the Ohala Empire, Count Nariyan, Baron Mahikop of the Kingdom of Cherensko, and Viscount Salazar of the Kingdom of Oblonsky, it is 'Prophet Valentin'—the favorite of the Pope and the trusted confidant of the Emperor—that is the name engraved upon the world.
"You must be especially careful today, Your Highness. I heard hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world have gathered to see Count Valentin. I brought a self-defense knife just in case, but a knife cannot stop a bullet."
"Don't worry. Even if I'm not careful, my guards are being careful enough."
Perhaps because of the occasion, the number of guards protecting me like an iron wall had increased from one to four. With Emma, my fellow believer, added to that, the wall protecting me had become five people.
"I'm going to see my mother for a moment. I'll see you downstairs in a bit, Emma."
"Yes! Ah, wait. The hat too!"
Wearing the beret Emma placed on my head, I went to find my father—partly to reject the 7-year-old and 59-year-old groom candidates—and ended up diving into the arms of my mother, whom I was meeting for the first time in three days.
"What is wrong with my child? Is there something you want?"
"Nothing."
"Hmm? Really? There's no way. There's no reason our Lara would hug me so prettily without asking for something."
"It's absurd to try and marry someone this pretty to an old man or a baby. Please tell Father that I have no intention of even glancing their way."
"Yes, yes. Of course you shouldn't even glance at them."
"How are you feeling?"
"Wonderfully. For some reason, I feel an unusual vitality in my body this year. Is it because this is the year our Lara has her coming-of-age ceremony?"
My mother is frail, and she often falls ill after major events like the imperial ball. I was worried that since the grand prayer assembly overlapped this year, she might collapse.
'Mother's frail body... could it be because I was born?'
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