One Might Think I’m The Saint If They Heard This.

-Thud, thud thud.

Something small rolling on the floor of the carriage.

I picked it up to examine it, but everyone else’s attention was focused on the Saint, not the foreign object.

“Saint…”

“Saint!!!”

Among them, the one who rushed in unable to contain his emotions was the Knight Captain, Vincent.

“Saint, can you hear my voice!? Saint!”

In his appearance as he urgently embraced the collapsed Saint, there was no trace of his previous solemn demeanor.

Was he that worried about her?

“…Ah.”

Fortunately, the Saint was exposed to the holy power emitted by the disciples.

There should be no issue with recovery, and as her breathing was secured, there should be no problem with speaking either.

“Ah, Father…?”

But the mumbling that followed was completely unexpected.

As Vincent’s body shrank at that, the Saint, realizing his reaction, withdrew her gaze from him.

“…No, it’s Vincent.”

Then she quietly looked down at her hand hanging down.

Carefully moving her hand, which was twitching by her own will, towards her chest.

“Am I… alive?”

The heartbeat she felt from there would be proof that she was alive.

Vincent, after hearing her voice, bowed his head and spoke quietly.

“Yes. Thankfully.”

“…I see.”

She nodded at his answer, then quietly closed her eyes.

As if sinking the consciousness she had just regained back below the surface of sleep.

“Oh, Haide.”

“Thank you for bestowing your mercy.”

Seeing this, the surrounding disciples bowed their heads and began to recite prayers.

Those prayers were surely directed towards the god they served.

But only the knight who held her body couldn’t join in that gratitude, instead stroking the cheek of the sleeping Saint.

Just watching that scene made my chest feel inexplicably heavy.

“…Looks like I caused quite an incident, even if it was the right thing to do.”

With a final mutter of “I hope that’s the case,” I turned my back and distanced myself from them.

Examining alone what had blocked the Saint’s airway, held in my hand.

---

The humid night air filling the forest.

Having left the Saint in the care of the clergy, I moved away from the group and spent time smoking cigarettes while sitting on a nearby rocky ledge.

The cigarette butts discarded below indicated how much time had passed.

“…Disciple of Cleas.”

Someone approached when that number had exceeded five.

The armor with gold trim had become familiar by now, but with his helmet removed, his bare face towards me was clearly visible.

The face of a man with black hair and black eyes, an extremely rare characteristic in this continent, just like the Saint.

“Is the Saint alright?”

“Yes, she’s currently comforting the worried disciples.”

Good grief, a patient who has to comfort her caretakers while receiving treatment.

Well, if one were to seek power, being a rural noble would be more appropriate than being a Saint, I thought with a snort as he quietly took a seat on the rocky ledge where I was sitting.

“If it weren’t for you, we would have been in big trouble. I convey our gratitude on behalf of the order. Thanks to you, the Saint was able to preserve her life…”

It was an unexpected expression of gratitude from my perspective.

Usually, religious believers tend to be quite narrow-minded, and I had performed incomprehensible actions in front of them.

In fact, weren’t there cases in my original world where blood transfusions or open surgeries were prohibited for religious reasons?

In such a situation, not only did he allow the treatment, but he even came to express gratitude personally.

“…If anything, I should be the one thanking you. You generously forgave me even though I raised my hand against the Saint.”

I felt almost a sense of respect for him, who bent his principles to trust me.

At least as one believer to another.

“However, that gratitude is only from our perspective. I don’t think the Saint will feel the same way.”

“What do you…”

“Do you know what this is?”

I quietly held out what I had been holding in my hand in front of him.

A small metal ball.

When I infused it with mana, I could see its volume increase slightly.

“It’s a magical tool that increases in volume when infused with mana. It’s mainly used by apprentice mages to practice mana manipulation. It’s quite easy to obtain.”

“…”

“…I wonder why this was stuck in her throat? There was no sign of anyone infiltrating the carriage.”

Vincent couldn’t give any answer to my words.

But his eyes were trembling violently.

Not because he had caught on to what I was trying to say.

He was at a loss, having the truth he had been avoiding forcibly thrust upon him.

“As far as I know, the Saint of Haide is directly chosen by Haide’s Halo from among the novice disciples. Is that correct?”

“…That’s right.”

Vincent finally answered.

Yet the sight of him gripping his mouth seemed considerably painful.

“The reason for appointing such a young acolyte as the Saint was to follow the teachings of the ancestors that one who is to be with the new era should also be born with it, right?”

Wasn’t the previous Saint also used as a figurehead for promotional purposes?

Strictly speaking, there would be a setting for them to ascend to the position at a relatively young age as they need to attract public attention, but even so, the previous Saint handed over her position to the current Saint after the war.

That was because they anticipated that a completely different era would unfold after the war…

Furthermore, it was because they hoped for an era of peace to follow.

“Bad luck. Of all people, his own daughter was chosen as the Saint in this rapidly changing era.”

A position where he can’t call his father ‘father’, nor his daughter ‘daughter’.

Thanks to that, he was able to guard her from the closest position, but because he couldn’t pay attention to her inner feelings, he had no choice but to let incidents like this happen.

Unable to offer even the minimal comfort as a father, having to watch as she consoles the worried disciples…

Is this really something one can endure with a sane mind?

“…Disciple of Cleas.”

Yes, permitting that treatment at that time stemmed from such desperation.

This current statement must also come from such a state of mind.

“May I make one request of you?”

A man who is a father to a daughter, and yet still claims to be a knight supporting the god.

To this man’s question, I removed the cigarette from my mouth and quietly asked back.

“What is it?”

“Please, I beg you to take the Saint to the destination ahead of us.”

“…I thought you were going to say something else.”

A decision anyone would consider hasty.

Moreover, entrusting that role to a disciple of another order was incomprehensible from a common sense perspective.

“Well, certainly after such an incident, it wouldn’t be easy to spend a day with this group. Though it’s a bit awkward to say this, there’s also a risk of traitors within this group.”

Of course, to perfectly execute a surprise attack, it would be best to have a spy on the inside, but traditionally, clergy value faith above all else.

In a situation where even holy power exists as a means to prove that faith, how easy would it be to induce them to harm the order?

“So that’s just a superficial reason… There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

As a religious person myself, I knew this well.

So I could immediately sense that there was another reason for entrusting the Saint to me.

“Because we believers, including myself, cannot understand the Saint’s heart.”

As if to confirm that my guess wasn’t wrong, he continued speaking with a strained voice.

“No, even if we understand, we’re in a position where we have to turn a blind eye. That’s what it means to support everyone.”

“…”

“…But you might be different. You understand us, but you won’t treat the Saint with the same mindset as us.”

Different? What does he mean by that?

Is it just because we serve different gods but respect each other?

Or is it because the Saint personally called for me?

If it’s the latter, I couldn’t help but feel ashamed.

The reason for the previous incident might have been due to the conversation we had when the Saint personally called for me.

“That’s a bit burdensome. No matter how much we respect each other, entrusting an important person of the order to a disciple of another god…”

That’s why I tried to refuse indirectly.

“I’m not trusting you without any basis either.”

Nevertheless, he made one last plea to me, as if he had lingering attachments.

His black eyes were clearly visible in the bright moonlight.

“Can you prove just one thing… just one thing right here?”

“Prove? What do you mean?”

“I’d like you to manifest a Halo.”

From the seriousness in his eyes alone, I could immediately understand that what he was saying wasn’t just on a whim.

“…One might think I’m the Saint if they heard this.”

Certainly, manifesting a Halo is in itself a sure way to prove that one is a noble being.

But as I felt during the previous pilgrimage, manifesting a Halo isn’t easy even when dozens of believers gather together.

Someone who can manifest it alone would have to be at least a Saint or Pope directly chosen by the Halo.

In such a situation, to demand such a thing as proof of trust.

“…Is it too much?”

“No, it’s possible.”

Well, if that’s enough to prove it, I’d welcome it.

With a chuckle, I clasped my hands together in front of him and recited a prayer inwardly.

“Clea, please come out.”

Along with the earnest plea that followed, a small light leaked out.

What was formed as that light gradually coalesced was two hands imitating those of an adult woman.

The God of Medicine, Clea.

She had descended here in response to my call.

-…

“…It’s a bit smaller compared to Haide, right?”

I felt a bit intimidated as I presented her.

The reason I could manifest a Halo was not only because I affirmed the existence of the god, but more because I thought, ‘I can support this much.’

No, to be more precise, it’s closer to nurturing than supporting.

After all, a god with only 20 years of history is no different from a baby compared to other orders.

“As a disciple of Haide, I pay my respects to Clea, the God of Medicine.”

But despite such insecurities, he knelt down and bowed his head to Clea.

A holy knight bowing his head to a fragment of a pagan god.

That in itself was enough to prove his trust in me.

And at the same time, it was enough for me to build trust in him.

---

The time when the cold air of dawn filled the forest.

While the clergy, exhausted from fatigue, had fallen asleep, and the holy knights in charge of night watch were guarding the vicinity of the campsite, I was preparing to leave the place, leading one person.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, thanks to you…”

“Then let’s depart right away.”

The Black Saint of Haide, Josephine.

She who followed me out looked a bit tired, but showed no hesitation in her actions.

The clergy left behind were surely being persuaded by Vincent, so it should be fine.

“I’m sorry for the late hour, but I’m counting on you.”

-Neigh.

With that, I put the Saint on the unicorn and quietly gripped the reins while taking a seat in front of her.

Fortunately, although it’s a creature that’s picky about its riders, it didn’t reject the Saint.

Well, if a unicorn were to reject a Saint, the order would split in half and fall into ruin that very day.

-Clop clop, clop clop.

The unicorn galloping through the rough forest path at a slightly fast pace.

Not only the speed but also the power in its hooves is worthy of the name of a fine steed.

At this speed, it shouldn’t take too long to reach our destination.

“Saint.”

But we should have enough time for a brief conversation.

“No, should I call you Sephin when it’s just the two of us?”

“…Call me whatever you prefer.”

An answer came back, but her voice was still weak.

Seeing her like this made me feel my heart softening a bit, but that only delayed what I needed to say for a moment.

After all, I had thought it was strange from the beginning.

Why was there something wrong with her health when she was a bearer of holy power?

Although anemia is said to apply separately from holy power, given the characteristics of her order, she doesn’t have poor eating habits.

The reason for suffering from anemia when there’s no problem with nutrient supply…

There are various possibilities for that too, but after experiencing this incident, the possibility had narrowed down to one.

“Why did you try to commit suicide?”

Yes, because wounds from drawing blood can be erased through holy power.

“…”

Despite my confident statement, she didn’t say a word.

She just tightened her grip on her arms wrapped around herself.

Leaning more of her weight against my back.