Chapter 41 – Faith & Believers (1)

Faith & Believers (1)

Valkvogel’s limbs had reattached very neatly. The holes that had been punctured in the shape of skewers were now filled with new flesh. It sounds odd to call it new flesh, but anyway, she was back to a normal physical state.
Aeon had played a significant role. Now, it should be called a tool that could extract magic infinitely.
Did she ever imagine herself in this state in the past? Of course not. She would have been preoccupied with how to extract more magic from Troka.

I shook the syringe containing Aeon. It was nearly empty due to excessive use.
The few remaining drops of magic power swirling inside were pleasing to the eye. It felt like it was healing the mind.

…Let’s stop here. Any more and I might go insane.

There’s still quite a bit left, not a lot, but enough. There’s no time to waste on such trifles.

The next destination is the Holy Imperial Court.
To meet the saint, Cecilia.

The one chosen by the goddess herself. A woman who grew up listening to the words of the goddess. For the Holy Imperial Court, she’s as important as the Pope, if not more so.

In other words, someone like me shouldn’t be able to meet her.

If she had been in seclusion, it would have been quite a struggle to find her. But fortunately, she is currently active outside the Holy Imperial Court.
It is said that she is using her noble self for volunteer work for the citizens. Whether it’s for show or some other scheme, it was good news for me.

Moreover, there’s talk that she’s mainly active in a small city near the Holy Imperial Court, not on the empire’s side.

Now was the perfect time to meet Cecilia.

I don’t know the reason for the volunteer work. She was the saint who was the only one to show tears for Troka’s death, so it might be related to that.
If it’s out of guilt for Troka, then if she had listened to him from the start, none of this would have happened, but that’s a story of the past.

Well, aside from me and Troka, and excluding demons, she was always a kind woman. So I can’t rule out the possibility that the volunteer work is without ulterior motives.

Let’s go. There’s no time to delay.
The die has been cast. Run as if death will follow when you stop.

If it’s there, I should be able to uncover all the secrets of the letter.

That’s enough brooding over the future journey.

“…We’re setting off.”

“…”

I opened the door. Creak, the rusty hinges screamed loudly. A bug must have been caught in the gap because I heard a crackling sound as well.

To avoid the watchful eyes of both the Empire and the Country of Magic, we must take a detour that is several times longer than the usual route. The estimated time is almost five months, and that’s if everything goes without a hitch. In reality, it could take twice as long. Public transportation is too conspicuous, and especially problematic since it leaves a paper trail.

Thinking about it, maybe it will take about a year. That might be overestimating. A more reasonable guess would be seven to eight months. Either way, it’s going to be a long journey.

I opened the door and waited, but Valkvogel showed no sign of following me. Turning around, I saw her just staring at her own limbs.

“Hey, aren’t you coming?”

“…No. Let’s go.”

Valkvogel had been scanning me for a while from the bed before she started to move.
I wonder what her criteria for responding are.
Well, that’s not what’s important.

The inn’s hallway was as dark as ever.
It felt like I was looking into my future.

What will happen after I deliver all the letters?

What state is the Emperor in now?
The return magic circle… I must have been smashed it to pieces, right?

If I had just done nothing and rested in the palace, couldn’t I have returned home comfortably? But why am I going through all this trouble?

“Are we not leaving?”

Valkvogel was already walking ahead of me.
Useless thoughts had stopped me in my tracks without me realizing it.

“Let’s go, we’re going.”

Will I be able to go home after everything is over?

I shook off the distractions and moved my feet.

The road ahead was long.

* * *

When winter passed, spring arrived.

It had been almost a year since the Demon King had died.

Birds chirped, flowers blossomed, and the world had quietly regained its stability. There were occasional issues, but for the most part, the era flowed without major problems. The Empire’s chief minister strutted around the city center rather than the royal palace, and the battle mages of the Country of Magic stirred up the civilians, but these were minor issues in the grand scheme of things. They were necessary actions to capture some heinous criminals.

Still, compared to what the Demon King’s army used to do, it was quite moderate.

As time went on, the movements of the Demon King’s army also gradually quieted down. A few of the leaders were still causing trouble across the continent, but they were few and did not cause significant problems. The death of the Demon King held great meaning for everyone.

It was a happy world.

Yet, she had occasional troubling thoughts.

The death of Troka, a suicide.

Honestly, she still felt guilty about Troka. She had treated him as if he were invisible.

But being somewhat harsh to him was unavoidable.

‘Keep your distance from the hero. It’s best not to engage in conversation.’

It was a command from the god who had chosen her personally, the god she served. How could she not follow the words of the god who saved her as she was dying?

The revelation wasn’t detailed, but once given, it had to be followed. And followed thoroughly.

She never accepted his approaching words. Not even once did she try to initiate a conversation. She just mechanically healed his wounds and pushed him back to the battlefield. Because that was the will of god. It was something that not only she, as a saint, but also the hero who lived by the power of god, had to accept without complaint.

But he died.

The cause was suicide.

Troka’s death had many regrettable aspects.

With the great enemy, the Demon King, gone, they could have grown their faith together. They could have made this world a better place.

Perhaps instead of making the world right, he returned to his original world. Because he never liked the goddess in the first place. He never scolded Flan for insulting the goddess every day. Not even once did he speak well of the goddess. He didn’t speak ill either, but still, that was the case.

Yet, when she remembered his face, cold in death, tears welled up.

Not only she but the others too were cruel to Troka. That’s why he made that choice.

When she thought of Troka’s face, she felt guilty.

But she believed he also had a responsibility.
Suicide was a sin. It was a taboo that should not be committed under any circumstances. And he had committed that sin. If he was suffering, he could have talked about it. Why did he choose suicide right away? She couldn’t understand.

She felt sorry, but she also felt a bit resentful.
That was all.

There were no specific instructions given about Flan, but he was a person whose very existence was unpleasant. There was a reason she had to keep her distance.

Now, when she thought of those two, her head became complicated.
And the thing that could shake off such distracting thoughts was helping others.

Today, too, she helped the citizens until her whole body ached. She bestowed blessings on the children. She gave new arms to those who had lost theirs. She kept moving around without sitting down from morning until evening.
It was only when the moon rose that her day’s work finally came to an end.

She had worked hard for the world today.
Now she could finally lie down for a bit. With that thought, she entered the room, only to be greeted by an unexpected visitor.

There was a strange man lying on the sofa where she often lay.
A man with countless scars sprawled out in the most comfortable position.

“…Cardinal Kardina.”

“Lady Saint, I hope you had a good day today.”

Cardinal Kardina.
A madman who took the frontlines despite holding the position of a high priest. The most prominent feature on his scar-ridden face was a long scar connecting his forehead and chin, a badge of honor earned in a blood battle with an officer.

“Yes, that’s right.”

He had now stepped back from the front lines and was in charge of escorting the saint. Leaving the diocese he was supposed to manage.

It was a foreseeable event since no one stopped him from taking the lead in the first place.

“Well, a year has already passed. It feels like time is slipping by uncontrollably fast since the Demon King died. Now that I think about it… It’s about time for the flowers to bloom brightly, how about returning home?”

It was a routine remark.
The Pope wanted the saint to return to the Holy Imperial Court as soon as possible. But she had been serving in the city for almost a year now, trying to alleviate her guilt about Troka.
However, the Pope, unaware of this fact, had hinted at Cardinal Kardina several times, but he was always a man who moved based on his interests. Unless it was a direct command from God, he had no intention of following it. Even if it was a hint from the Pope.

“The time of war has passed. There is no need to stay at the Holy Imperial Court. I am just doing what I must.”

“Well, if that’s what you wish.”

Before she realized it, he was sipping from the teacup meant for guests.

-Sip, sip, sip.

After just three sips, he had emptied the contents and seemed ready to leave. However, he hesitated with his hand on the doorknob before speaking.

“So, is the Goddess maintaining her silence even now?”

It was a question born of pure curiosity. Since the revelation about Troka, the Goddess had remained silent.

“Yes…”

I felt ashamed.

“It’s strange. Truly strange. According to the legends, after the defeat of the Demon King, the Goddess used to bestow even more revelations.”

The Goddess used to give numerous revelations to rebuild humanity after the war with the Demon King. What could be the reason for her silence now? The thought that she might be displeased with her was frightening.

“Well then, I shall take my leave. Rest well in the meantime.”

It didn’t matter much to Kardina. If anything, it felt as if the shackles controlling him had been lifted. It was a bit painful for the saint, though.

Once the cardinal had left, the room finally regained its tranquility.

Now I can truly rest. Cecilia let out a long sigh. The rest that comes after continuous work is the sweetest.

There must be another reason for the Goddess’s lack of revelations. With that thought, she shook off her worries and headed to bed.

She flung off the various ornaments that adorned her body and untied her hair. Then she threw herself onto the frilly bed and closed her eyes. The cozy blanket wrapped around her. It was a sensation of her entire body unwinding.

But just as she was about to enjoy this bliss, another interruption to her rest appeared.

[Lady Saint, you have a visitor.]

The fact that the guard outside didn’t specify the identity suggested it wasn’t someone of great importance. Still, she couldn’t greet them in such a disheveled state.

Reflecting on this, she straightened her posture and reached for her ornaments.

-Knock, knock.

It had only been a few seconds since the priest had left, but someone was already knocking on the door. They must be quite impatient. She slipped a gold bracelet onto her wrist. And then…

-Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

“Please wait a───”

The door burst open before she could even finish speaking, not giving her a chance to tidy her hair.

The person who appeared was,

“Hey, long time no see?”

A man covered in wounds. He had an aura similar to Kardina’s.
However, he was a bit more wild and rough, and there was a very strong sense of foreignness about him.

“You… you are.”

As she recognized his face, an unpleasant sensation swept over her back. To put it abstractly, it was a disgusting discomfort; concretely, it was a nauseating dizziness as if she were about to vomit.

The man who had joined the Demon King’s army. And the one who had been a porter for the hero’s party.
It was Flan.

It wasn’t the person Flan himself that caused the aversion. It was the stench of the sins he had accumulated that was so foul.
The saint had the ability to see the sins of others, which is why she felt this way.

“Look here, you can’t just barge in on the Saint like this…”

He ignored the guard trying to restrain him. Familiar with the look of disgust Cecilia sent his way, Flan didn’t care and opened his mouth.

“I’ll get straight to the point. Was the Goddess involved in Troka’s death?”

Such a abrupt, and absurd question.
It was offensive.
Not just because of his sins, but that wasn’t the main reason.

The man himself had just become repulsive.