Chapter 40 – Nothing Is Over (3)

The snapped lute string made the soldiers flinch.

“……”

Cariel, muttering, replaced the string. Luke, in black armor, turned to Alesia.

“Walking? It’s more than half a day’s journey.”

“Training. And we’re short on horses.”

“The wagons?”

“Don’t make the horses suffer.”

“…Considerate or sentimental?”

Luke glanced back. Twenty people, including wagon drivers. A small village had requested aid with monsters. Luke had brought a detachment. The village militia couldn’t handle monsters. Exceptional individuals were rare.

“No casualties, thanks to him.”

“What about me?”

The saint preened.

“…Your contribution was… vital, Lady Alesia.”

“An afterthought.”

“Not at all.”

Actually, their free time was partly
her
doing.

Once, there was only one saint, a divine symbol. But a crisis had changed that. The traitorous pope, purged. The singular saint, replaced by a more approachable ideal. Ermina’s work, she who was called not just saint, but Holy Mother.

Now, six saints. Alesia, fourth among them.

“Don’t you pity me, dragged around overseeing these… leeches?”

“It’s for the church.”

“…Or maybe I’m just lazy.”

Alesia tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Diligence is a virtue, isn’t it?”

“For pigs.”

Resolute.

“When there’s work, you work. Constant diligence… you’ll break. Those ‘perfect’ clerics become perverts and traitors. Better to be flawed from the start. Faking perfection breaks you. Am I wrong?”

“……”

Blunt. Not hostile, just… blunt.

“That boy… another victim.”

Look at him.

“…Does he look his age?”

Luke agreed. Cariel’s skill with monsters had been impressive, but his aura… melancholic. He seemed uncomfortable with the villagers’ gratitude.

The sporadic monster appearances weren’t remnants of the Demon King’s invasion, but older scars. Magical energy eruptions, birthing monsters. Usually monitored, but sometimes… the cycle broke. If Cariel hadn’t been there… the villagers would have fled, perhaps meeting Luke’s group, or Alesia.

“His movements… inhuman.”

“Really?”

Alesia hadn’t seen it. Her healing had saved lives, stabilizing the wounded before Luke and Cariel arrived. No deaths. Providence? Or just… luck?

They travelled together, shared destination.

“Saint Cariel’s feast day. Large crowds.”

Baronen’s patron saint. One of the Empire’s eleven protectors. Before chivalry, when demons and barbarians roamed free, in an age of mistrust, he’d defended plague-stricken villagers, abandoned by their lord, facing hundreds alone. He’d died repelling them. He’d spoken of “knights,” of a knightly creed.

Three hundred years ago. A contemporary of Elande, the Empire’s first and strongest knight. Saint Cariel, not the strongest, but his compassion, devotion, sacrifice… the foundation of chivalry. Luelde and Ermina had named their son in his honor.

“The lost find guidance in saints and sages. We follow Irenis’s teachings because we’re lost, seeking reassurance.”

“My, my, so saintly.”

“Blasphemous brat.”

Their banter faded.

Diiing!

Cariel played his restrung lute. Serene melodies, then heart-pounding rhythms.

“Where’d you learn that?”

Alesia stood beside him, mounted, forcing him to look up.

“Taught myself.”

“Not gypsies? Bards? Demons?”

“No. I’ve seen them, but never… interacted.”

No opportunity.

He played, lost in the music. The Demon King had forbidden combat training. His mind was too fragile. So he played, even in his dreams. His skill grew. The Demon King taught him guitar, different from the lute, especially the “magic guitar,” a demonic instrument.

“You never ask. It’s hurtful.”

“Huh?”

Alesia smiled slyly.

“Aren’t you curious why I’m here?”

“…Should I be?”

“……”

He left her speechless. Not indifference, but… something else.

“Fine, I’ll monologue.”

She huffed.

“During the invasion, some demons defected. You know?”

“…Vaguely.”

He glanced at the air, then back at her.

“Some had… unusual skills. Glimpsing remnants of the past… like… memories embedded in the earth.”

“Really?”

“The Age of Mistrust… its history is… fragmented.”

So…

“Not the church’s idea, but the demons offered to help. To… uncover the past.”

“…Why?”

Demon remnants wanting to learn about the saints? Using their strange abilities?

“The church gets research. The demons get… artistic inspiration.”

“Artistic…?”

He glanced at the air again.

“Since the war, they’ve focused on art, technology, commerce.”

“……”

He’d learned that at the academy.

“So, I’m here to… oversee them.”

She sighed dramatically.

“Wrong place, wrong time.”

“Still, it’s festival season. Maybe I’ll find a husband.”

“……”

“Hello! I’m talking to you! I proposed! Did you forget?!”

“Me? You proposed to
me
?”

Seriously? Not a joke? Cariel was bewildered, but… it felt… strangely pleasant. He struggled to suppress a smile.