It is the 7th of February. The Cathedral of New Haven is filled to the last seat and the smell of incense hangs heavy in the air. Today a trial is taking place. A beam of light blinds Nara through the imposing stained glass windows, which depict the glorious flight from Arthengard. The salvation of humanity, which only succeeded thanks to the Church, is rendered in eight massive glass paintings. Nara remembers all too well enduring this history hundreds of times in history class. Really, it should have been called religious instruction. Generations ago, a relentless war erupted over the world of Arthengard, which ultimately the demons and monsters won for themselves. In the end, humanity had no choice but to escape through a magical portal to another world and leave their homeland behind. Since that day, the royal family has been stripped of power and the clergy have skillfully taken control, determining the daily lives of people with their doctrine.
Nara doesn’t take in much of the actual trial. Her thoughts circle endlessly. She, Princess Nara of Runenberg, third daughter of the King of New Haven, accused of treason and heresy. What a farce, yet what can one expect from a theocratic society? She could never stomach the church and religion, and then she was reborn in a world teeming with them. She has to smile. Viewed from the outside, her situation has a certain irony to it. At thirty years old she contracted ME/CFS, lived for years in a life chained to her bed, only to die alone of heart failure and be reborn in another cage. Admittedly, a golden cage this time, but a cage nonetheless.
The incense burns in her nostrils. Someone coughs somewhere behind her and the sound echoes through the cathedral. The benches creak, a soft scraping and rustling that never quite stops. Nara fixes her gaze on one of the stained glass windows. The seventh from the left shows a priest standing heroically before a portal, leading the masses through it. His face shines in gold and white.
Then she is torn from her thoughts. “Yes, Your Royal Highness, Princess Nara has cast doubt upon the truth of the glorious flight from Arthengard.” Her defender stands before the judge and gesticulates wildly. Then he points to Nara. “But let us be honest, she is merely a woman. This points to a lack of education and poor upbringing, not to the intention to betray the land and the Church.” Nara grips her chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. Her defender is clearly bribed by the Church. How much she would like to voice her opinion now, but as a woman she is forbidden to speak in court. “I therefore plead for leniency in the sentencing.”
She tries desperately to catch her father’s eye where he sits on a throne behind the judge. But he looks only with an empty gaze into the crowd. His hands lie motionless on the armrests. Is it really all over after seventeen years in her new life?
The judge rises and begins to pronounce the verdict. “In the name of God, the following judgment is rendered: The accused Princess Nara of Runenberg is found guilty and condemned to death. It is evident that the accused acted with full awareness…”
Nara hears nothing more. All the sounds of the cathedral blur into a single roar. She sees the judge’s mouth moving, sees faces in the crowd, sees hands placed over mouths. But everything is far away, as if she were observing it through a pane of glass. Her own hands lie in her lap, but she barely feels them. Condemned to death. The words hang in her head and repeat themselves without being able to grasp them. The wood of the chair presses unpleasantly against her spine. The incense is suddenly so sweet she feels sick.
She has fallen into a trap. Is this the price for her jabs at the Church? Admittedly, she never passed up an opportunity to expose or embarrass Church representatives. But she never crossed the one line that would have made her vulnerable. Nor did she ever publicly doubt that the story of the flight is true. She underestimated the power of the Church, or rather, its lack of scruples.
The seconds stretch. Nara stares at her hands and waits for something to happen. For her to wake up. For someone to laugh and say it was a joke. For her heart to stop hammering so loudly in her ears.
Then the King stands.
It happens slowly. First the creak of the throne, then the rustle of his cloak. Hundreds of people hold their breath. Chairs creak as everyone present kneels, one after another, like a wave rolling through the ranks.
“We, Edward of Runenberg, King by the Grace of God, hereby declare our veto and change the sentence to lifetime banishment from the city.”
His voice echoes through the cathedral. Strong and royal, as Nara knows it from countless speeches and festivals. But his hands tremble slightly and she has never seen that before.
The judge’s face turns red and one can feel his fury. The seconds drag by and a certain relief spreads through Nara. Her fingers slowly release the chair. She breathes out and realizes only now that she was holding her breath.
Then the judge rises, grins and speaks calmly. “As you wish, Your Grace.” He addresses the people. “In God’s name the punishment is mitigated and Princess Nara is hereby banished. Tomorrow a portal to Arthengard will be opened and the sentence carried out.”
He strikes his hammer against the podium and disappears immediately.
Nara’s relief dies as quickly as it came. She knows the stories of Arthengard. Every child in New Haven knows them. A world full of demons and monsters from which humanity had to flee because they had lost. Banishment there is not a milder sentence. It is the same sentence in prettier packaging.
The King’s eyes widen and he collapses into his throne.
It becomes loud around her. Many voices echo through the cathedral, but the words blur into a dull roar. She only notices the hands of the Temple Knights gripping her and dragging her away. Her feet move, but she cannot remember standing up. One step after another. Through the center aisle, past the benches. Faces turn toward her, mouths move, but the words do not reach her. An old man shakes his head. A child stares at her with wide eyes. Then she is through the church portal and the cold February air hits her like a slap.
A whole company of Temple Knights surrounds her. Their footsteps echo evenly on the cobblestones and the lanterns cast flickering shadows over their armor. The way from the court to the castle is not far, just once across the castle square, but it stretches like an eternity. To the left and right, people line the way. Some call something out, some just stand there. Nara hears none of it. She puts one foot in front of the other and concentrates on the sound of her own footsteps on the pavement. Just keep moving.
When she reaches her chambers, the Temple Knight closes the door behind her and she stands alone in the room. The fire in the fireplace crackles softly. Everything looks as it always does. Her books on the desk, the half-drunk tea from the morning, the cushion she always wedges against the back of the chair. As if nothing had happened. As if she would simply get up tomorrow and have breakfast like any other day.
She just stands there for a while. Then she sits in the chair, stands again, walks to the window, turns around, sits on the bed. Stands again. Her hands do not know where to go and neither do her thoughts. Eventually she ends up sitting on the windowsill, knees drawn up, forehead pressed against the cold glass. Outside the sun sets and the lanterns in the streets are lit one after another.
The stars sparkle over the city. Somewhere out there lies Arthengard. A world full of death and ruin.
“Come on Nara, you’ve prepared yourself with countless isekai animes and manga for a situation like this. That has to be good for something. Think!” She strikes her hands in front of her face and rubs her eyes. She takes a deep breath. “This is not your downfall. You are alive and are only being sent to another world. Child’s play!” She sighs. “Just with one small difference: I have neither a cheat skill nor any special ability at all.” She stands and walks around her bedchamber.
There is a knock on the door. Her parents enter and her mother rushes to her and immediately embraces her. Nara buries her face in her mother’s shoulder. A familiar scent of lavender. She holds her mother tighter.
Her father speaks with a quivering voice. “I’m sorry, dear. I tried, but…” his words fail him. He stands in the middle of the room, his arms hanging at his sides, and the great King of New Haven looks like a broken man.
She gently extricates herself from her mother’s embrace and straightens.
“It is not your fault,” she says quietly. “I have been playing tricks on the Church for years. Eventually that had to have consequences.” She smiles stiffly, as convincingly as she could. “I will manage. After all, I am still alive.”
Her father wants to say something. She shakes her head.
She steps to her father and embraces him firmly. He returns the embrace and whispers in her ear so softly she can barely hear him. “Stay as close to the portal as you can for as long as you can.” She does not know why, but these are her father’s words. He would not say them without reason. She nods barely perceptibly.
The Temple Knight who had entered interrupts the farewell. “Majesty, I must respectfully ask you to leave. Visiting hours are over. The Cardinal’s words were clear, you may only say a brief goodbye!” The King stamps angrily toward the Temple Knight. “To hell with the Cardinal, I am the King here, not him.” But the Knight merely opens the door gallantly and ushers the King out with a gesture. Nara’s mother embraces her once more, tears flowing silently down her cheeks. The Temple Knight bows briefly before Nara. “Forgive me, Highness. I wish I could do more.”
When the door closes behind them, she stands motionless for a moment. The crackling of the fireplace fills the room. Then she collapses on the floor and begins to cry bitterly.