Good Intentions Don’t Always Bring Good Results (3)

“Can’t you tell me now?”

“…I’ll tell you a bit later.”

The conversation flowed aimlessly over the campfire.

The cool night air wrapped around the campfire, suddenly warming up and spreading, and Bigrind’s face, touched by that heat, had ripened to a rather red color. Ludvig, sitting across from Bigrind, also had a reddish face as he quietly looked at the meat skewers stuck around the campfire.

“I think they’re about cooked now.”

As the grease began to drip down the skewers, Ludvig took out two lumps of rock salt from his sling bag. The rock salt, small enough to fit in one hand, made a crunching sound as Ludvig skillfully rubbed them together, scattering salt flakes.

The rock salt melted on the surface of the well-cooked meat skewers.

Rock salt meant to give just a slightly salty taste rather than being too salty.

Feeling he had sprinkled enough salt, Ludvig pulled out a skewer, wrapped it in leaves, and handed it to Bigrind.

“Please eat, Saintess.”

“Yes, yes…”

Taking the skewer, Bigrind opened her small mouth and tore into the meat.

The deer Ludvig had caught a couple of days ago, the meat obtained from dressing that deer had become sufficient food, and thanks to that, they had continued their journey without starving until now.

“We’ll arrive at Foret tomorrow. From there, there’s a direct route to Bulfus, so we should be able to cross over quickly.”

Ludvig’s face flickered beyond the campfire.

His face, visible through the hazy smoke, still held a gentle smile, but to Bigrind, Ludvig’s smile seemed somewhat uneasy rather than looking good as before.

It had been quite a while since they left the Infula Church territory.

On the very night Ludvig came out of the training hall where he had rented an entire hall for secluded training,

Ludvig quietly visited Bigrind’s room and opened his mouth, saying it was a difficult request.

• • Saintess, I think we need to go to Katus.

 

• • Katus…?

 

• • Yes. We need to meet Yona… the Saintess of the demon realm.

Bigrind was quite surprised at that moment.

Until now, Ludvig had invariably called Yona an apostate when she wasn’t present.

Yet now, Ludvig referred to Yona—or rather, went a step further—as the Saintess of the demon realm, even adding an honorific.

• • For what reason…?

 

• • I’ll explain slowly. I know it’s a difficult request. But Saintess, there’s a reason I must meet the Saintess of the demon realm. This is the last stubbornness I’ll indulge in. Could you please grant this?

And so their journey began.

Since they couldn’t proudly enter the port of the Katus Empire, they had no choice but to go to Foret and choose the method of infiltrating Katus through the country of Bulfus.

“But how do you plan to meet Yona once we get to Katus? You probably don’t even know where she is.”

“…I can find out. Yes, I can find out. He told me.”

“When you say ‘He’…?”

“…A higher being. I’ll tell you gradually.”

Bigrind thought, ‘If you’re going to tell me gradually, isn’t that meaningless?’

If Ludvig, who had become a fanatic, spoke of a higher being, it must be the Celestial Deity.

If the Celestial Deity had revealed himself, it would be quite a commotion-causing event, but Bigrind kept her mouth shut.

There must be a reason he only revealed himself to the hero.

There must have been a reason it had to be that way.

Bigrind thought this as she munched on the meat.

Somehow, she felt a bit disappointed.

After eating like this, it was time to go to bed.

The countless stars adorning the night sky were still twinkling even at this moment, as if they might pour down at any moment, too numerous to be fully described as abundant.

Bigrind, who had gone to bed,

and Ludvig, who had hung a bag of grass on the neck of the warhorse they had ridden together, carefully sat by the campfire.

A moment of silence.

At that time when there was no conversation between them.

“…Don’t you resent me?”

Bigrind, who had crawled into her sleeping bag, forcibly pulled down the sleeping bag covering her entire face and turned to look at Ludvig.

She had bought a sleeping bag slightly smaller than average size, but for some reason it was too big for Bigrind, which made her slightly annoyed.

The owner must have clearly deceived her when selling it.

How dare they deceive the Saintess and sell a wrongly sized sleeping bag, she thought, neatly folding and tucking away the thought that she should go back later and scold them, and turned to look at Ludvig.

“If I had been more proper, more sane… you, Saintess, wouldn’t have suffered such hardship from that vampire.”

“What are you saying?”

Bigrind sighed softly.

Damian—that terrible vampire.

That vampire was literally a disaster itself, and it was terrifying to think what would have happened if they had failed to summon the Celestial Gate.

Would anything have been different if Ludvig had been there?

It was impossible to know.

“It is said that evil takes intricate forms. Damian, that vampire, was said to be strong among them. Nevertheless, didn’t you, Hero, stand firm against him? No one could have thought that the enemy would take such an intricate form, so it’s not your fault, is it?”

“Is that so.”

Ludvig smiled dejectedly as he tossed small twigs into the campfire.

Ludvig had changed a lot since he came out of his secluded training until now.

Even when asked what had happened, he gave no particular answer, and instead of his usual confident smile, he wore an incredibly gentle and mild smile, which strangely reminded Bigrind of a child who had been severely scolded, which always worried her.

“What is true faith, Saintess?”

“That’s something I don’t know.”

Bigrind answered without hesitation.

True faith—a topic that has troubled countless monks since the Celestial Faith took root in this land.

If asked whether anyone has found the correct answer to that, the answer would be no.

“If even you, Saintess, don’t know, it would be fair to say no one knows, right?”

“I’m not such a great being, Hero.”

“If you say you’re not great, Saintess, that’s excessive modesty.”

Ludvig overturned the campfire once with a long poker.

The sand seemed to rise slightly for a moment, but soon the embers flared up again in the campfire.

“Shouldn’t one answer that they don’t know if they don’t know? Even if one pretends to know vaguely, that’s not the answer.”

Bigrind answered while barely suppressing a yawn.

In fact, Bigrind didn’t like such Zen-like questions either. Exchanging such questions was enough with the Pope, that is, Arczel IV. The old man loved Zen-like questions so much that Bigrind would often answer without knowing what she was saying, but didn’t the Pope always enjoy it, saying “Indeed, that is so”? So she didn’t want to exchange such questions with Ludvig as well.

“Pretending to know vaguely…”

Ludvig muttered Bigrind’s answer again as he stirred the campfire once more.

Pushing a few dry twigs into the campfire and waiting for a moment, the twigs catch fire again.

“As expected of the Saintess. It’s better to answer that one doesn’t know rather than pretending to know vaguely.”

Ludvig thought so.

He had been like that in the church territory when Berbaria appeared. He thought that demons must be unconditionally destroyed and are unconditionally enemies of the Celestial Deity. He thought that destroying this demon was the mission given by the Celestial Deity, and the proper use of the power of being a hero.

But during that long time of repentance and contemplation he spent in that training hall, Ludvig thought and worried about many things.

Until He came, at the end of such long supplication and anguish, the answer Ludvig reached.

It was the fact that Ludvig himself was a novice.

“That’s right. It’s better to honestly answer that one doesn’t know rather than pretending to know vaguely.”

Ludvig smiled sadly.

His past self was so pathetic and inadequate that he could only laugh.

“We’ll go straight from Foret to Bulfus. We’ll be passing through the Purification Knight Order’s country.”

“And then?”

“I think we’ll have to go to Esima. The Saintess of the demon realm will probably be there.”

Bigrind looked up at Ludvig again as she looked down at the ship’s railing.

By now, it should have been time for him to explain, but still, Ludvig showed no sign of telling her.

“Soon, I’ll tell you soon. Saintess, please wait a little longer.”

That ambiguous smile.

Just like a child wondering if it’s okay to hug their mother, unsure if her anger has subsided or not.

“…I’ll wait.”

But what could she do?

Bigrind had no other choice.

Waiting—Bigrind was better at waiting than she thought.

“Yes. It will be soon. Soon…”

The Saintess of the demon realm—Yona.

He had to meet her no matter what.

Only then could Ludvig fulfill his mission.

The sound of the ship’s horn signaling departure rang out.

Leaving behind the sight of seagulls taking flight with their strange cries of “kiruruururuk,” the ship slowly left the port of Foret.

Through the Purification Knight Order’s country to Bulfus.

And through Bulfus to the Katus Empire.

Ludvig looked down at the foam breaking against the ship’s side and made a resolution.

He would not make the same mistake again.