Chapter 43 – What Is a Festival? (3)

Predawn. Alesia left the room, the quiet manor bringing a sense of freedom. The cool air, scented with the forest, carried faint sounds.

The training grounds. A shirtless man ran through the mist.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“And you, Saint? Didn’t sleep like you promised?”

Luke teased.

“No drunken… activities. A friend warned me… regrets.”

And…

“I’m not
that
desperate. Not even for a crying boy.”

“Crying? Luelde?”

“He seemed… that way.”

Not just gloomy, but… something more.

“Saints aren’t warriors. We’re healers, comforters.”

“And?”

“…He hasn’t slept properly in ages. I let him rest. A troubled mind can’t rest.”

“And
you’re
not tired? We rode. You ran.”

“Training. I can’t afford to be weak when needed.”

A casual tone, but… a hint of something deeper. Luke didn’t pry.

“You seem… attached.”

“Well… he’s… sanctifying.”

“…What?”

“He’s my type. Fragile, yet strong. Skilled, kind. But… submissive. His family…”

“High expectations breed obedience.”

“If he could handle it… And you noticed… he stares… into the distance?”

“Lost in thought?”

“No. He
sees
things. And you know how… those who see… are treated. He suffered in silence, fearing he was… different.”

Alesia shook her head.

“Ah.”

“What?”

“…Hangover.”

She clutched her head.

“Told you to drink less.”

“I paid. It’s their busy season.”

“That’s their problem. And it’s the feast day. Just say you wanted to drink.”

“Busted.”

Their banter resumed.

“I have a feeling.”

“About what?”

“Luelde.”

He bothered her. Not just attraction, but… a sense of… precariousness.

“You’re smitten.”

“It’s… maternal instinct.”

“Never had kids. And he’ll be a finer man than you. Just wait.”

“He’ll still be shorter, though.”

“…You’re impossible. And size isn’t everything.”

“For men, it is.”

Luke was large, but Alesia matched him. A point against him.

“At least he doesn’t stare at me like you lot.”

“How do we stare?”

“Big. Amazonian. Manly. Intimidating.”

“And Luelde?”

She paused.

“…Beautiful?”

“Have you lost it?”

“Seriously! I’m pretty, right?”

“……”

Luke couldn’t deny it. Unfair advantage.

“And I work hard on my figure! Keeping my arms slim! My legs… well… another story.”

A sigh. Some things were best left unsaid.

“Anyway! He treats me like a woman! How can I not be smitten?!”

“Or is he just… your type?”

“Sadly… true.”

Their banter continued, revealing glimpses of themselves, of the Baronenes family. Luke appreciated the connection with a saint. Though neither had intended it, their conversation served a purpose.

“Good luck. I’ll… offer my blessings.”

====

“……”

He awoke before the nightmare, the bright sunlight surprising him.

Just a moment…

He’d woken just before Alesia entered. He felt… rested. His nerves calmer. Birdsong filled the quiet air. He breathed deeply, calming his mind.

Mana manipulation, breathing exercises… useless to him. He relied on mental focus, internal observation. Difficult, but he’d learned to assess his condition.

“……”

He’d been exhausted. Now… refreshed. He’d slept well.

A servant directed him to the washroom, informed him of breakfast. Outside, a well. A fountain, too. The sound of flowing water. Abundant resources. He’d learned that at the academy, but hadn’t truly understood.

So obvious, yet…

He washed, his hair now a nuisance.
Tie it? Too short. Cut it?

Elhermina’s robe-cloak was remarkably practical. Clean, even without bathing. Undamaged by the wolf monster.

And the sword…

It had cut through flesh and bone, yet remained sharp, unbent. His greatsword, though, needed repairs. He might sell it. No attachment.

He returned to the manor.

“Awake?”

Alesia, in a pristine white priest’s robe with gold embroidery, looked… strange. Ill-fitting, especially around her chest. And she wore clothes underneath. Almost comical. And wasn’t that a
male
priest’s robe?

“I know. It’s all they had.”

She grumbled, red eyes flashing with annoyance.
That church visit…

“Clothes don’t make the person. You’re… impressive… just as you are.”

“……”

She was quiet.

“Smooth talker. If you hadn’t called me ‘impressive’… I might’ve been smitten.”

That’s… terrifying.

They chatted. A servant announced breakfast. They entered the dining hall. The long table was half-full.

“The Guardian Saint herself!”

A middle-aged man with a beard stood, booming. His clothes, though informal, were refined: reddish-brown with purple accents.

Alesia forced a smile.

“…Lord Baron. I appreciate the sentiment, but… I
am
a woman.”

“Haha! What does it matter?! No knight compares to you!”

“…I’m not a knight. That’s… excessive praise.”

“A saint with a knight’s heart! Be proud!”

“But…”

Why won’t he listen?!

“Father, calm down.”

“Calm?! I’m delighted! A true knight!”

He boomed again. The man who’d quieted him was sturdy, but… round. Brown hair, neatly groomed. Similar attire to the baron. Only Luke was dressed casually.

“My apologies. Allow me to reintroduce myself. Roia Baronenes, head of this estate. My sons.”

He gestured to Alesia and Cariel. The round man spoke awkwardly.

“Ludhi Baronenes. I… assist my father.”

“My introduction’s unnecessary.”

Luke waved it off. The baron scowled.

“Brat! Manners!”

“We’ve met. No need.”

“Even so, the guests from Edenrevan… are they… invisible?”

A voice spoke.

“Don’t mind me. We’ve met.”

Pale skin, almost white, like bone. White hair, too. A striking contrast.

“Now that my superior has arrived, I can work.”

Red eyes, gleaming with fervor. Pointed teeth flashed. Dark clothes, red embroidery, surprisingly elegant. A red rose in his breast pocket. Striking, but not… repulsive.

“Saint Alesia! The Protector! Guide me well!”

“I will.”

Alesia snorted.

“If you do your job.”

“All for the sake of… artistic expression.”

He smiled.

“The Edenrevan Regiment’s Blood-Bound Kinship Society! Serving humanity! Ah, my apologies. Philbar Asuvna. Here…”

He approached, offering them something.

“A card.”

Alesia, accustomed to such things, accepted the small black card.

“……”

“You too.”

Cariel, glancing at Alesia, took the card.

“Your credential. Present it to any Edenrevan member for… assistance. Connections are invaluable!”

Flamboyant, but not frivolous. Theatrical, but not careless. He played his part well.

“Now… the boy beside the saint? An introduction? Or would you prefer… to remain anonymous? Lord Baron?”

“……”

Cariel hesitated, glancing at the baron, then responded simply.

“Luelde. An alias. I’m on a… knightly pilgrimage.”

He bowed slightly, a practiced movement.

“Welcome, Luelde. Titles are unimportant here. My sons and the saint value your company. You’ve proven yourself. We wouldn’t neglect you regardless.”

“Thank you. And… please, speak casually.”

“Gladly!”

The baron turned to the others.

“Now, let’s eat! Philbar…”

“I have… refreshments.”

A pale boy, his servant, uncorked a bottle, pouring red liquid into a glass.

“Sufficient?”

“More than enough!”

Philbar savored the red liquid.

“My anticipation grows! I can’t wait to witness Saint Cariel’s legacy! Eat! Eat!”

He seemed genuinely excited. The Edenrevan Regiment, demon defectors who’d sided with humanity during the invasion. Their contributions were legendary.

Cariel glanced upward. Alesia noticed.

“Food’s here! Eat up! Nourishment for the soul!”

Bread, cheese, eggs, meat. Heavy for breakfast, but only Cariel seemed to mind. He ate, watching as the baron and servants carved and served.