The Final Task of the Forsaken Saint: A Command to Marry the Barbarian Count - Chapter 7

From the morning, Teodoric de Rostock, or Dirck as he was known, had been immersed in his duties. Now, he was listening to the report from his house steward, Seriu.

“Saintess is missing from her guest room?” Dirck asked, his voice low but tinged with concern.

“Yes, sir. When the maid went to check, she wasn’t in her room. We’re currently searching the castle with whoever is available… but…” Seriu trailed off.

Seriu was a competent man who had served the family since the time of Dirck’s father. He knew the inner workings of Rostock like the back of his hand, and Dirck trusted him completely. That’s why he understood why Seriu seemed uneasy.

“Has her luggage been left behind?” Dirck asked again.

“Yes, her luggage remains, but her staff… the staff is gone.
We’ve also noticed that her staff is missing. She’s left without a trace… It’s not unheard of, though, as we’ve had similar cases before where guests leave hastily with nothing but the clothes on their backs.”

A wave of disappointment and resignation washed over Dirck. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I should have known. Even if it looked like everything was fine, I knew it would be difficult… I shouldn’t have come back from hunting first.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s my fault for not guiding the Saintess properly…” Seriu apologized again.

Dirck waved his hand dismissively.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later. It didn’t matter if it was early or late. No noblewoman was ever going to adapt to Rostock’s ways,” Dirck muttered.

“I had thought that if we found a capable, strong, and hardy woman, one who could adapt to the land, we could make it work. That’s why I consulted with the Crown Prince, and he recommended the Saintess to us.”

While that wasn’t the only reason, Dirck nodded.

Rostock was a remote land, far from the capital. It had always maintained its own culture, even before the kingdom’s establishment. As such, the previous generations of Margraves had taken daughters from neighboring territories or branches of noble families as wives.

But continuing to marry within their own faction raised suspicions about loyalty to the royal family.

To avoid this, Dirck’s father had changed the policy and started seeking a wife from an outside noble family. Following in his father’s footsteps, Dirck had also started searching for a wife, but…

“I never expected that a noble lady would be so delicate. When I merely greeted her, she burst into tears… I was at a loss.”
“The Margrave’s face is in keeping with the Rostock family’s tradition—strong, but rather intimidating. A timid woman would surely be frightened by it.”

“Feel free to call it a ‘villainous face’ if you like.”

Dirck shot a half-glaring look at Seriu, who responded with a cool, “My apologies.”

“However, there are noblewomen who prefer a ‘rough, wild, manly beauty’ like yours,” Seriu added.

“Well, those women left as soon as they set foot in Rostock,” Dirck sighed, a dry laugh escaping him.

What was perfectly normal for those in Rostock was a shock to the noblewomen of the capital.

The capital’s trends rarely reached this far, and the land was constantly plagued by magical beasts. The winters were harsh and long, and people were fiercely independent, respecting strength and practicality above all else.

The nobles from the capital, raised in a world of polished social grace and fine arts, quickly realized this lifestyle was too harsh for them.

One lady had fainted when a magical beast attacked her carriage, only for Dirck to save her. Another noblewoman had turned up her nose at the trade of magical beasts and precious stones Dirck had shown her. One noblewoman had even left after witnessing Dirck help with farm work, visibly horrified.

Others had left after hearing what the food was made of.
The longest any noblewoman had stayed was three days before running away.

“Anyway, inviting a lady to go hunting is a poor way to approach her,” Seriu said calmly.

Dirck had no argument. He knew he had been ignorant of how to treat women, and that was the reason his marriage prospects had failed so miserably.

“But there was a reason for it,” Dirck said quietly.

“I just wanted them to understand the land of Rostock. If they could like the land, I thought we could make it work.”

Dirck loved the land of Rostock. He wanted the woman who would share it with him to appreciate it as he did. He thought that by showing them the ruggedness of the land, they’d understand.
But what he learned too late was that those who were used to the comforts of the capital couldn’t handle the wildness of Rostock.
That’s why, at 24, after four years as Margrave, he was still unmarried.

“That’s why I had such high hopes for Lady Rubel… She defended the second prince, a man who could only cause trouble, during the war. Afterward, her determination to make him pay for his actions was truly impressive, don’t you think?” Dirck said, his voice filled with admiration.

Seriu nodded.

“Yes, she fought for victory, yet when it came to injustice, she didn’t hesitate to face it. Her sense of honor is something we can all relate to.”

The news of Rubel slapping the second prince had spread quickly, and though the royal family had told Seriu all about it, Dirck understood the prince’s behavior well. That was why he had hoped for a strong woman, someone like Rubel.

But as he recalled their first meeting, Dirck’s head fell into his hands.

“I never expected a young, delicate lady like her to come to us…”

“You’re still young yourself,” Seriu pointed out.

Dirck knew Seriu wasn’t talking about his age, but he glared at him anyway.

Rubel, the “Sun-Wheel Saintess,” was a slender girl with red hair, tied low. Although she was supposed to be 18, she appeared even younger. She was wearing the travel clothes of a long journey, and her staff appeared too large for her slight frame.

Her features were delicate, small, and thin, and she didn’t have the youthful energy most girls her age possessed. Instead, there was an air of detachment about her.

Her pale golden eyes, though, had looked at him squarely, and for a moment, Dirck felt like he was being sized up, but still, she seemed like someone to protect rather than to worry about.

“She didn’t scream when she saw me carrying the monster I had hunted back, though.”

“She was probably too stunned to react properly,” Dirck said with a hint of bitterness.

Another noblewoman had been just as composed, smiling throughout, until she suddenly disappeared, leaving behind only a letter. When Dirck went to investigate, he found that she had fled at night, like a thief.

Though Rubel appeared delicate, she could very well have been terrified by the wyverns’ roars last night and fled in the morning, embarrassed to do so. Dirck felt deeply apologetic.
Seriu couldn’t help but lower his eyes, a sad expression on his face.

“It’s truly unfortunate that the bride we had been hoping for would leave so soon…”

The phrase “let her go so easily” was painfully accurate, making Dirck smile bitterly.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. No one expected the Saintess to come alone, on foot, and so soon. It’s natural to be cautious about her true intentions.”

The marriage had been arranged under the pretense of rewarding Rubel for her contributions during the war. But in truth, it was a political arrangement—a transaction between Rostock and the royal family.

For years, Rostock had been asking the royal family for permission to investigate Carbunculus. Although the region was technically under royal jurisdiction, Rostock managed it in practice. But the research had been limited, and it was mostly focused on dealing with the magical beasts overflowing from the land.

It was clear that Rubel, as a saint, wouldn’t be capable of managing the land by herself. The true management of the region would fall to Dirck, as her husband.

In essence, this marriage was a way for Rostock to secure indirect control over Carbunculus.

“The Crown Prince proposed the marriage, but the messenger from the royal family was sent by the second prince,” Seriu added.

“It’s most likely the second prince’s personal vendetta. It could also be an attempt to provoke the Crown Prince… I wanted to hear more from Rubel, but…” Dirck sighed, recalling that she had already fled.

Despite everything, the one who stood to lose the most from this marriage was Rubel.

She had been treated as a political tool, thrust into a marriage with a man called the “Barbarian Margrave” and sent to the wilds of Rostock—a far cry from the prestigious life she deserved.

Despite everything, she accepted this marriage with little complaint, as if it were just another duty.

“I may have used her, just as everyone else did. I have no right to feel sympathy,” Dirck thought.

Despite the harsh treatment she’d received, Rubel accepted this marriage with a simple resolve, without anger or dissatisfaction.

“She said she’d live as my wife in name only, just occupying a room without causing trouble. She’s truly remarkable.”