Chapter 93: The Intentions Were Good (4) |
*
The morning after rescuing people from beneath the overpass.
My destination that morning was not the clinic, but somewhere else entirely.
"Otto. Let's head to the Cathedral today."
The largest cathedral in the Empire, situated on the western side of Civitas Square.
It was a place Otto knew all too well.
Every time he lost consciousness, it was this Cathedral that took him in.
Otto must have been thinking along the same lines as me, because the moment he heard "Cathedral," he immediately thought of a sick visit.
"Who are we visiting?"
Though today's visit was not for that purpose.
"I have matters to discuss with the Diocesan Head regarding yesterday's incident."
The Overpass Collapse Incident, which had been aimed at me yesterday.
It wasn't quite on the scale of the Great Subjugation Failure from this past spring, but it was a significant incident in its own right.
We needed to discuss relief measures for the victims, their treatment fees, and beyond that, the need to monitor the Black Sorcerers' future movements.
"Young Master. We've arrived."
"You know you can't call me that out in public, yes?"
"I am well aware."
Otto brought the car to a stop in front of the Cathedral's North Wing—the building also known as the Diocesan Office.
At the far end of the stone floor, where statues of the twelve gods stood in formation on either side.
A vast, white edifice loomed over us from above.
"No matter how many times I see it, the sheer scale is overwhelming."
Otto murmured as he followed behind me.
His words were no exaggeration. The Diocesan Office was enormous.
Depending on who you asked, one might grumble that it was a luxury to take up so much land in an already cramped city.
But there was good reason for the Diocesan Office to be this large.
"Lord Saint. Those people over there..."
"They're moving Holy Relics that have just been made."
In the direction Otto indicated, holy knights were loading wooden boxes onto carriages.
Holy Relics.
A general term for special objects imbued with divine power.
This included the special silver bullets I used, the clerical robes that Gregor managed to shred on a daily basis, and holy water, which could be considered a Holy Relic in the broader sense.
Beyond those, there were also the highest-grade holy water used as ingredients for elixirs, armor capable of blocking instant-death curses several times over, and maces that could purify corrupt undead in an instant, among other things.
Every Holy Relic produced in the Diocesan Office was treated as a strategic resource and supplied throughout the Empire.
In fact, if you considered that this place functioned as a Holy Relic factory supplying demand across the entire Empire, perhaps this scale was actually on the modest side.
"...The sunlight is harsh. Shall I fetch a parasol, Lord Saint?"
"I have my mask, so I'm fine, Otto."
As an aside, the Diocesan Office is one of those rare places in the city free of smog, where actual sunlight can reach.
Since there's no better catalyst or symbol for divine magic than sunlight.
That was precisely why the Diocesan Office was a place where even the Imperial Court went so far as to dispatch mages to manage the sunlight.
"Right then, let's go, Otto. The Diocesan Head is wait—"
In the warm sunlight.
I had been about to climb the temple steps when I stopped mid-sentence.
Someone was casting a long shadow from the top of the stairs, looking down at us.
"...Gregor?"
There was Gregor, arms crossed, looking down at us.
Otto, spotting the muscular man, began to quietly edge behind my back.
He was supposed to be my bodyguard, and yet.
Witnessing this display, the place Gregor occupied in my mental image of Otto shifted slightly from "bodyguard" toward "decorative totem."
I left Otto to his own devices and climbed the steps.
"Gregor. Good morning."
"Good morning, Lord Saint! Lord Otto!"
Gregor saluted with a warm, amiable smile.
However, his voice was nothing like his usual theatrical, over-the-top tone. It was closer to that of an ordinary holy knight.
Otto's eyes went wide.
"Don't tell me... the High-Rank Holy Knight of the Diocesan Office has been replaced by an impostor..."
"That's hardly likely, is it, Otto?"
It was the sort of remark that could easily be taken as an insult.
But Gregor didn't seem to mind in the least, offering only a calm smile.
"It's no wonder Lord Otto is surprised. But I simply found my pride, so I no longer have need of the bluff. Nothing to worry about."
"...?"
Otto, having no idea what Gregor and I had spoken about the previous day, seemed unsettled by this change in the man.
Gregor gave Otto a knowing wink.
"If you miss the old version, I could always show you my muscles?"
"That won't be necessary..."
"I'm joking."
Gregor chuckled and stepped ahead to lead the way.
"The Diocesan Head is waiting. Allow me to guide you."
Even as we walked, Gregor kept to the basic etiquette befitting a holy knight.
On the way to the Diocesan Head's room, the priests and holy knights we passed offered their greetings to both Gregor and me.
"Is your injury from training the other day doing alright?"
"Yes, Lord Gregor. I should be able to rejoin morning training starting next week."
"Good to hear. We'll be waiting."
Every priest and holy knight who greeted Gregor clearly held him in warm regard.
I spoke from behind Gregor, just low enough for him to hear.
"You're very well-loved."
"It's thanks to you opening my eyes, Lord Saint."
"I'm glad."
Before long, we arrived at the door bearing the nameplate [Raymond Raylick].
"Please, go on in."
"Thank you for guiding us, Gregor."
Knock, knock.
I opened the door and stepped inside. An elderly man wearing a purple epaulet rose from his seat to receive us.
"Lord Saint. Thank you for coming. I do hope you weren't injured yesterday?"
"Fortunately, thanks to Mr. Gregor's great performance, I came away unharmed. I'm very grateful."
"It is I who should be grateful. I can see clearly that Gregor has improved considerably since yesterday, and for that I have nothing but gratitude toward you, Lord Saint. And gratitude to the Main God, who has guided us all thus."
The Archbishop made the sign of the cross over his chest.
Across from him, I followed suit and offered a brief prayer.
The Diocesan Head's eyes widened slightly at the sight.
"I hadn't expected the Lord Saint to know a prayer of thanks. How surprising."
"Indeed. I've heard that the public tends to get the impression I don't believe in the gods."
"That was not the intent of my remark... but since you mention it, I will ask. Do you not believe in the gods?"
"Goodness, no. Both of my parents were healers. There's no reason I wouldn't believe in the gods."
Not a lie.
I do believe in the gods.
More precisely, I believe in their existence, and I believe that they watch over humanity.
After all, denying the existence of the gods in a world where the miracles of divine power are a reality would be sheer foolishness.
And besides, as a possessor, I had all the more reason to believe in their existence.
So yes, I believe in the gods.
I simply don't ask things of them.
Well, I do offer a prayer of thanks on occasion.
My biological parents were clergy, after all.
I observe at least a basic level of religious etiquette so as not to tarnish their memory.
"Your parents must have been wonderful healers, Lord Saint. If I may, would it be alright for me to include them in my prayers for their happiness?"
"They passed away long ago."
"I am sorry. Please forgive me."
"Not at all. Even so, to receive acknowledgement from the Diocesan Head himself—I'm sure my parents up in heaven would be pleased."
Enough small talk.
"Now, let us get to the main point. The victims rescued from beneath the overpass yesterday, I have already placed each of them in appropriate healing centers. The treatment fees will be covered by our Order."
The incident yesterday qualified as a disaster situation, after all.
And in disaster situations such as this, the relief activities for the victims are primarily handled by the Order.
Of course, if the Order behaved this way for every single disaster, this wouldn't be a dark fantasy setting.
The reason they move like this is singular.
"We will take responsibility for this incident and see it through to the end. Please do not trouble yourself over it, Lord Saint."
It's because those people were citizens caught up in the conflict between me and the Black Sorcerers.
If Black Sorcerers kept attacking citizens in their attempts to target the Saint, there would come a point where people might start pointing fingers at me.
As in, innocent people are getting caught up in danger because I wander around in public.
Unfortunate as it is, not every human being can be noble.
Such sentiments in public opinion could quite easily take root.
And so the Order ensures the victims are thoroughly provided for.
The Saint is, after all, the face of the Order. And that is precisely why the Order acts to preempt any situation where the Saint might be blamed for incidents like this.
Thanks to the Order's long history of acting in precisely this way, it was rare for those caught in the crossfire to ever direct blame at the Saint or Saintess.
"All of the complex issues related to this will be handled by our Order."
"Ah, I would personally like to compensate for the repair costs incurred during yesterday's bodyguard duties."
"Is that on account of Gregor?"
I nodded.
"So I would appreciate it if the Order ensured that no disadvantage came to Mr. Gregor as a result."
"Understood. No cleric would dare bring up matters that the Lord Saint himself has chosen to overlook."
The collateral damage stemming from Gregor's mistakes during the incident was likewise laid to rest.
It was around the time the conversation was drawing to a close.
"By the way, Lord Saint."
"Yes."
"Gregor's clerical robes came back yesterday in a terrible state. Could you perhaps... tell me just how violent the attack was?"
"..."
I pressed my lips firmly shut.
Gregor, standing beside me, clasped both hands neatly before his chest and began tapping his fingertips together.
That gesture alone was answer enough.
A vein stood out on the Diocesan Head's forehead.
"...Gregor?"
Archbishop Raymond's voice dropped low.
Speaking on behalf of Gregor, who had gone silent and drawn his neck in like a turtle, I addressed the Diocesan Head.
"It was an isolated incident from yesterday onward. And Mr. Gregor has been improving, so—"
"Lord Saint."
"?"
"Whatever else may be said, that child's habit of stripping off his upper garment in the middle of combat has been with him since before he shut himself away in his room. It is nothing new."
"?"
I turned to look at Gregor, my expression clearly asking for an explanation.
Gregor, hunched over and shrunken, muttered.
"W-Well... it's just... when this one gets heated in the middle of a fight..."
"..."
Aha.
So in other words, the habit of taking his shirt off existed independently from any past trauma?
Having heard the circumstances, I abandoned any further attempt at defense.
Gregor looked at me with the expression of a man watching the sky fall.
"L-Lord Saint...! Please don't abandon this one!"
"A little discipline is necessary from time to time."
"H-How could you...!"
I entrusted Gregor's fate to the Diocesan Head and rose from my seat.
"While the two of you speak, would it be alright if I took a look around the Diocesan Office? I have a personal interest in Holy Relics."
"I'll have attendant priests and holy knights accompany you. Please, look as much as you like."
I left the Diocesan Head and Gregor behind and stepped out of the room.
Around the time I boarded the lift with the acolyte priest assigned to guide me.
From the direction of the Diocesan Head's room at the far end of the corridor, a thundering voice carried over.
—"How old are you, exactly!! A High-Rank Holy Knight who should be a model for everyone—!!"
"Ha, ha... This is quite a common occurrence, so please don't worry, Lord Saint."
Gregor's Adjutant offered a dry laugh.
After that, the lift doors closed, and nothing more could be heard.
***
In the room after Director Schun and Otto had departed.
Sob.
Leaving the mass of muscle slumped on the sofa, sniffling away, the Diocesan Head pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
"Gregor. Think about your age. Your younger sister is a Saintess. Shouldn't you also take care with your own conduct?"
"I... I am always proud of my sister..."
"That's not what I'm saying."
The Diocesan Head let out a long, heavy sigh.
"One of you is a 4th Rank but can't keep your composure, and the other holds the title of Saintess yet can't stand being around people... You two siblings have outstanding talent, yet why are you always like this... I find myself wondering whether it's because I was too busy with the infirmary to give you proper attention."
"We are grateful simply for having been taken in. And she respects you deeply, Diocesan Head."
"Then I wish the two of you would please just listen to what I say."
"...I... I'm sorry."
The Diocesan Head rubbed his face with both hands, over and over.
He had certainly spent his entire life as the faithful eldest son of the Main God.
And yet—why was it that the children he had taken in were, without exception, like this?
They weren't bad children.
But they were the kind of children that made a parent look back and wonder if they had done something wrong.
"Enough. You've been getting better thanks to the Lord Saint, so perhaps when I give her that news, she too might improve a little."
The Diocesan Head's sigh deepened.
"Huu... As it happens, you'll be heading to the Academy the year after next along with the Lord Saint. And that child is apparently set on enrolling as well."
"Yes. That is so, Father."
"Then please make sure she doesn't cause any trouble there. Above all else, I am begging you—please talk some sense into her and make sure she does not issue a written challenge to the Black Saint. Not to him, of all people."
"I will do my best."
"Huuuu... And above all, please don't cause trouble together."
The Diocesan Head sank back into his chair.
***
And at that same hour, as for Yulian...
He sat holding in one hand the result notification that Erika had brought back after completing the Academy Entrance Exam, speaking with her.
"...Eri?"
"...Yes."
"So let me get this straight. During the 2nd Round Sparring Test, you poured every last drop of your fighting aura into beating the supervisor, burned through all your willpower, and then fell asleep during the Written Exam?"
"...Sorry."
"Huu..."
Whether to be pleased about this or not, he couldn't quite decide.
=======================
Imperial Academy Admissions Result Notification
Recipient: Erika Nihilrit
We extend our deepest gratitude for your application to this Academy's admissions process.
This year's admissions process was conducted with the aim of selecting 2,000 students from a pool of 22,431 applicants...
...
We hereby inform you that you may reapply to next year's admissions process, and we sincerely wish you well in your continued perseverance and development.
All inquiries regarding this notification are to be sent in writing to this Academy's Admissions Office.
Imperial Academy Admissions Committee
— 2nd Round Sparring Rank: 1 / 6,478
— 3rd Round Written Exam Rank: 3,544 / 3,546
Overall Evaluation Result: Failure
=======================
Erika gave a sheepish little laugh as she looked at the result notification in Yulian's hand.
"Hehe... But since I ranked 1st in the 2nd round, I'm exempt from the sparring test next year..."
"..."
"Sorry..."
"..."
"But I'll be enrolling at the same time as Freya, so..."
"..."
"Sorry..."
