Ch.811I Can Hear Your Voice

Of course, I wouldn’t think of passing time with other thoughts or dozing off during a funeral, no matter how boring it might be. That would be disrespectful to the deceased.

Perhaps uncivilized Ka’har barbarians might do such things, but how could someone like me—from a world incomparably more civilized than this one—commit such rudeness?

So instead of letting my mind wander, I tried my best to focus on the unbearably tedious memorial mass, silently praying for Ludwig’s peaceful rest.

‘Elpinel, I don’t know which heaven Ludwig wished to reach… but wherever it is, please guide him there safely. Wasn’t he a pitiful man in life?’

I prayed to Elpinel rather than Astraea, fearing another burst of intense divine light like last time.

Perhaps that’s why it happened.

– Throb!

Just as I finished my prayer for his peaceful rest, a burning pain radiated from the stigmata on my chest.

…No, surely it doesn’t respond to prayers like this too?

Startled, I discreetly pulled at the front of my professor’s uniform—worn in place of mourning clothes—to peek inside.

If it suddenly emitted divine light here, everyone attending the funeral would turn to look at me.

…

It’s not glowing.

I sighed with relief.

Fortunately, the stigmata was merely tinged with a subtle golden hue, not radiating the brilliant light like before.

This time, it wasn’t responding to my prayer by revealing divine radiance.

Then what was this reaction? What was the goddess Astraea thinking?

Perhaps she was displeased that her saint was praying to another deity…?

…No, that couldn’t be it. Surely not.

Even if she was a game deity, a celestial goddess wouldn’t communicate through the stigmata over something so trivial. It must be my imagination, right?

– Hmmm.

…

The stigmata emitted a very faint divine light, as if confirming my suspicions weren’t just imagination. I stared blankly at my chest, at a loss for words.

Wait, is this for real? You’re a goddess.

For a goddess—even if not omnipotent—to express displeasure over something so trivial… what are you, a teenage schoolgirl?

【 How҉̠҇̂͜ dis҈̢̳͚́̈͞res҉̩̈̎̊̕͜pect҉̯̬̝́͜͝ful. 】

…Huh?

A static-like thunderous sound echoed in my mind.

Like thunder falling from the high heavens. A distant and mysterious voice reaching out to me from somewhere far away.

The voice of a deity.

I gasped in surprise, quickly covered the now completely golden stigmata with my outer garment, and looked around.

Then I realized.

【 Don҈͉͂͜͡’t҉̢̬̣̳̈̑́͠ ə̷̨̥͇̑̆̊͠ɡ̷̢̛͎̈wor҈̧̱̝̈́͡ry҉̢͇͔҇̃. You҈̤͒̓̀͜͡ have҈̰̪҇͊͢ the҉̡͙͔͋͞ right҉̡͈͕̠̈́͝ to҈̨͍̝̾͡ do҈̫͖̉̊̂̕͢ so҈̧̛̭̩͔͒̀̊.҉͍͔̙͒̎̑͢͠ 】

This voice was being heard only by me.

The nobles, the Emperor, the Empress, the priests, the knights…

None of the mourners gathered in the cathedral seemed to hear the thunderous voice resonating in my head. They continued to stare at Ludwig’s coffin, which Lacy was consecrating.

Some struggled to suppress yawns from boredom. Some had reddened eyes from grief. Some gazed with pious reverence. And…

There was even a bastard looking at Lacy with lustful eyes instead of the coffin.

Everyone appeared unchanged from before the voice spoke.

…I should have that guy looking at Lacy investigated later. No decent noble would display such lust toward a saint.

Anyway, judging by their expressions, it was clear that I alone had heard the voice.

Even Lacy showed no sign of confusion as she continued softly reciting the eulogy.

Which means…

That was Astraea’s voice. That’s why only I, Astraea’s saint, could hear it.

“Haah…”

I closed my eyes and sighed faintly, feeling dizzy.

Good heavens, now she’s even speaking to me directly.

Her attention was becoming so excessive that it was starting to frighten me.

She’s not some heartbroken, obsessive heroine from a novel—why would a goddess be acting this way toward me?

Does she think I’ll prostrate myself and declare “I believe!” just because of this?

…No, that can’t be it. She wouldn’t be contacting me just to forcibly make me her follower.

After all, didn’t she send me that text message in the Astraea Church cathedral before?

Telling me to live as I please without necessarily following doctrines or anything. Meaning I could worship her or not, as I wished.

So her reason for repeatedly contacting me must be something other than forcing my submission.

Some grand, important, and sacred reason that I currently cannot comprehend.

【 Heh҉̨̯̜͂̏̕ 】

…Or not?

—-

The funeral concluded peacefully without any incidents.

Although the shocking event of Astraea speaking to me did occur, it was limited to me alone.

As Lacy’s eulogy came to an end, a burst of pure white divine light drenched the entire cathedral in brilliant radiance. Everyone made the sign of the cross in unison, praying for the goddess to guide Ludwig.

Everyone except me.

I simply bowed my head silently. I didn’t dare pray to Elpinel again, unable to predict what the goddess Astraea might do.

Fortunately, no one questioned my attitude. Even the nobles probably thought it would be strange for Astraea’s saint to make Elpinel’s sign of the cross.

After the light of Elpinel faded like a mirage, Ludwig’s coffin was loaded onto a carriage to be transported to my estate.

While the normal procedure would have been to place the consecrated coffin in the cathedral’s underground cemetery, this time, following my suggestion, we decided to transport Ludwig’s coffin to Landenburg territory for burial there.

In other words, the funeral itself was now completely over.

What followed was—

“Marquis of Median. Come forward and pay your respects.”

What else but my succession ceremony?

After Lacy finished the funeral mass and withdrew to a prayer room, Leopold took her place at the podium and commanded me in a solemn tone to come forward and pay my respects.

…It might be amusing to refuse and stand my ground here.

I was tempted to say something like “I don’t take orders from those weaker than me” with a smirk. Just imagining it made the corners of my mouth twitch.

“Marquis of Median?”

Of course, this was merely a mischievous thought—I had no real intention of doing so.

Why would I cause trouble with the Emperor? I’m not some lunatic.

“You called for me, Your Majesty.”

I obediently walked up to Leopold, knelt on one knee, and bowed my head. Leopold stepped forward, placed his right hand on my shoulder, and addressed me in his persistently solemn tone.

“Hero of the Empire, Haschal Median Aishan-Gioro. I ask you: are you prepared to take on the responsibilities that your adoptive father, Margrave Ludwig, bore? To take up the name of Landenburg?”

“Yes. I am prepared.”

I answered, mimicking his solemnity. Inwardly, I was criticizing Leopold for his love of pomp and ceremony.

“Do you swear to firmly defend the Wall of Berengaria, the great legacy left to us by our ancestors, and to protect humanity’s peace from all foreign threats?”

“I swear.”

His use of “humanity’s peace” rather than “the Empire’s peace” was likely intentional—he planned to grant me independence from the Empire.

If I had sworn to protect the Empire’s peace and then became independent, I would have broken my oath.

“Very well. As a descendant of Carlos the Great, humanity’s savior, and as master of the Empire, I, Leopold, hereby declare that you shall now be known as the master of Landenburg.”

While Lacy and Lord Wien, who had already anticipated this, showed no reaction, the nobles who had hoped to divide Landenburg’s interests after its master’s death couldn’t hide their dismay. They glanced at each other, murmuring quietly.

Perhaps they hadn’t expected that I, merely a nominal successor, would inherit the entire vast territory of Landenburg. Their glances toward me revealed their disappointment.

“Thank you.”

I simply nodded my head in gratitude.

“…At times like this, you should say ‘Your Imperial grace is boundless.'”

Leopold muttered, almost inaudibly. Apparently, my simple “thank you” was too informal.

My mistake. Having rarely had reason to thank others, I was naturally unskilled in the Empire’s expressions of gratitude.

Well, I couldn’t take back words already spoken.

I could only respond by slightly shrugging the shoulder his hand rested on.