Radiance (4)
"Boss. The man with the skull's face was the demon who killed Pelatz — the one who cast that spell at you, I mean."
On the road back, Harad explained, pitching his voice over the blizzard.
"They admitted to it that easily?"
"The intelligence bureau has quite the reputation for interrogation. I'm no fighter, mind you, but I do have a knack for driving the blade into a fight that's already over." Harad rapped his knuckles against the sword at his hip.
"It was meant to drive a wedge between the North and the Imperial Family — to hang a knight's death around Serzilla's neck as a false charge."
"..."
"They made the mistake of slighting the North. As if Serzilla would so much as tremble over the death of a single knight."
Ellen nodded. She snorted, too — and Ceria witnessed that scoff from barely an arm's length away. Ellen was Serzilla, through and through.
Ceria took hold of Harad's forearm. It was warm. She met Ellen's eyes, but the girl wore a strangely bright expression.
"Did something pleasant happen while I was unconscious?"
"Ellen enjoys a good fight. Serzilla folk usually do."
Combat, they said, brought them pleasure and a bracing exhilaration. To Ceria, it was a sentiment beyond her understanding. Fighting was, by its nature, an agony.
"Did you manage to confirm the reason as well? I can't see what the demon pillar would stand to gain from setting the North against the Imperial Family."
"Does it matter?"
"Pardon?"
"They're demons."
Ceria tilted her head. Harad laughed softly.
"What meaning does a reason hold for a demon? Even beasts weigh gain against loss — it's only humans who insist on a pretext as well."
To call a demon a person was heresy. And Harad was asking Ceria whether she was a heretic.
"...I misspoke. I'm sorry."
"You owe us no apology. These things happen. You're hardly in your right mind yet."
Recovery did not erase the pain. It was the mind that had been left to bear it.
"If you like, rest a while before you go. Your divine power seems to have plenty left in it."
The blizzard came down in full fury, yet Ceria's whole body remained sheltered within divine power. Her collapse earlier had owed nothing to drained strength — her mind had simply failed to endure the pain.
"No, truly. The fact that I can walk at all leaves me not knowing what to do with myself. Let's hurry back."
Ceria gave a small smile.
Had it not been for Ellen, she would be dead — or in their hands. And that horde of demons would no doubt be raising toasts over the priest they had caught. It would have been the Church's shame.
"Thank you, Ellen. Without you, the demon horde would have slipped through my fingers."
Savior of her life. Ceria had called her that earlier — but that was all it had been. She set far greater store by the demons' deaths than by her own survival.
Nor was such a creed Ceria's alone. In his past life Harad had rarely crossed paths with priests, but every priest he had known of — met or merely heard of — ranked the death of demons above their own lives. Thanks to their magnificent faith, presumably. That conviction, too, was the product of their schooling. Whether it was truly only schooling, Harad could not say.
"Why did you do it?" Ellen asked.
"Sorry?"
"Why did you tell me to run?"
"Because Harad is weak."
Ellen had to protect that weak Harad. The road of retreat had stood open — but Harad himself was the Liberation Tower's objective, and they would never have contented themselves with merely watching him flee alone.
"There was another way, too. The one where you did the protecting."
Ceria had known for a long time that Ellen was stronger than she was. People who could burst a head open with their bare fist were rare. Rarer still when that head was shielded by divine power.
"Punishing demons is my task."
"That may pass on the continent. This is the North."
Ellen was quoting Harad word for word — a saying Ceria herself had once accepted.
"They came for Harad. For a member of Serzilla."
Ellen had justification enough of her own to deal with them. Ceria understood all of it perfectly. Even so, she had wanted Ellen to run away with Harad.
And the reason was surely not merely a wish to keep the demons to herself.
"Then why did you push me?"
Armor without holes. When that spell had unfurled, Ellen had moved to stand in Harad's place. Ceria had taken the blow meant for Ellen instead.
"It wouldn't have hurt me."
And Ceria — who had taken her share of idle punches in her time — would have known it. To shatter something with ease meant the one doing the shattering was tremendously sturdy.
Ellen's face was a tangle. Her pride seemed stung by the fact of having been protected. But it was not only that. She wanted to know more of this person called Ceria.
"You're quite right," Ceria said quietly.
The judgment to send Harad away had been sound. But sending Ellen along as his guard had not been rational.
The enemy was demons, yes — if that had truly been the reason, she should never have taken the spell in Ellen's stead. She should have let it land on Ellen, and gone on hunting demons.
She had not. And at that moment, Ceria had not been in Exaltation. Claiming the spell for herself had been purely her own choice.
"Why did I do it, I wonder."
Ceria asked herself. She wore a pondering face — though the expression did not last long.
"It seems, Ellen, that I think of you as a friend."
Ceria smiled gently. It was a mild smile, ill-suited to the great northern plains.
"Oh — you too, Harad."
"..."
Harad gave no answer.
Psina. No — Harad, who had been playing the part of Psina, had hung no deadline over the man's neck. Even if they went on failing for a long while yet, it would stay that way.
Should the time come to take up the quill again, the words to send would be disappointment, and urgings to hurry. The Rebel Faction would only dispatch its mages all the more diligently. No telling how long that could be kept up — but in any case, it would not be Ceria who faced the mages that came next.
Ceria had come up to the North because of Pelatz. More precisely, because of the mage who had killed him — and that skull-faced mage was dead now. Which left her with no choice but to leave the North.
She did not depart at once. She needed rest, and Ellen had granted it. Grand Duke Aratus, who had no doubt divined Ellen's wishes through his own web of informants, issued no particular order.
"I'm sad. To think that come tomorrow, I won't get to eat this anymore."
Facing their last meal together, Ceria lamented. Ellen, whose favorite restaurant had just been paid the compliment, looked faintly proud.
"Isn't it just meat?"
Harad ate whatever was put in front of him. Ellen glared at him. Then, in place of a punishment, she stole the meat from his plate.
"You could stand to eat some vegetables."
"I grew up just fine without them." Ellen said it while glancing down at her own body.
True enough. To Heavenly Might, an unbalanced diet was a trifling concern.
"What are you looking at."
"You're the one who made a show of it, no?"
Harad still found that body foreign. That was Elaine — of all people.
"What was that."
Ellen stole Harad's share yet again, then ordered more meat and handed a portion of it back to him.
"If you were going to do that, why take mine in the first place?"
"Other people's food always tastes better."
Ceria chuckled at that.
"You two really do get along, the both of you."
"I know."
Ellen said it without a trace of embarrassment and stole another bite.
Come to think of it, today was a first. Never once, in Ceria's presence, had Ellen stolen Harad's food.
It meant she had grown at ease with Ceria. Or that Ceria had become someone she no longer needed to mind.
Either outcome suited Harad fine. Ellen needed experiences, and the wider their range the better. What mattered was leaving no regret behind in the moment.
"Don't ever do that again. That was an insult, you know." Ellen said it out of nowhere. She seemed to mean the matter of Ceria taking the spell in her stead.
"I doubt you'll see it again, though."
"What? I'd like to see you again."
"What business would a priest ever have up in the North?"
"You never know. No one foresaw this business, either."
Ceria was looking at Ellen with a slightly overwhelmed gaze. This was her friend.
"If you ever come down out of the North, come and see me."
"Why."
"Because I'll miss you?"
"...Miss me."
"Fremont has ever so many wonderful restaurants too, I hear?"
"..."
Ellen's face had gone glacial.
"Weren't you bound for the Inquisition come next year?"
"My. However did you know?"
Ellen jabbed her fork toward Harad.
"We keep rather sharp ears, we do."
"Hardly anyone knows that. As expected of the Serzilla intelligence bureau."
Ceria smiled as she always did. There was nothing disagreeable in it.
"That's right. That is the plan — though nothing is settled. I'm being pushed toward it, far more than I deserve, but I'm still deliberating."
"Why deliberate? It's a promotion."
Inquisitor was an honored post. One that strips away many a privilege — yet no priest has ever refused it. No priest fears martyrdom.
"And it would suit you."
A Ceria who wrung wails from demons was already every bit an inquisitor.
"That's higher praise than I deserve."
For Ceria too, then, the word 'inquisitor' was a compliment.
"What I'm weighing is my own insufficiency."
"The Exaltation, then."
Ceria seemed to chafe at how her faith fell short of her divine power.
"Yes. I can't lean on my partner forever."
Ceria beamed, then turned to Ellen.
"Would you care to take holy orders?"
"Are you out of your mind?"
To break free of the Exaltation, the mind had to be washed clean. And Ellen would have made a truly splendid partner.
"Baptism, I hear, is given only in the Holy Land. Have you ever laid eyes on the Saint, by chance? Word has it she lives there."
"...There really is nothing you don't know, is there."
Ceria clicked her tongue. Her face stiffened for an instant, then eased back into a soft curve.
"I have never been able to look upon her. She is simply too radiant a person."
"Light comes off her face? Is that because the divine power she carries is so immense?"
Harad asked in all innocence.
Harad of his previous life had never seen the Saint. That woman of unknown identity had died before the Outer Realm ever marched south. He had never learned the whole story — did not even know when she had died. The Church had buried every trace of information about her.
And so Harad had merely assumed it was the work of the Outer Realm's infiltrators on the continent.
Or the Church's own doing.
Power struggles existed wherever one went. Even the Church did not put faith and divine power above all else.
"No light shines from her face. The divine power she bears is, as you say, immense — but that is all."
"I see. She must be a tremendous figure indeed."
"She is nothing less than the heart of the Church of Raan."
The sun and the moon. The Church was twofold, yet there was only ever one Saint — the Saint of the sun god Raan, and no other.
After that, Ceria said nothing more. Either she did not know about the Saint, or she had no wish to speak of her. Harad did not press.
Who the Saint was, why they called Ceria the Guillotine, how many lives she had taken — to Harad, such questions were of no consequence. That was the whole of his relationship with the Church.
And so the three of them finished their meal in quiet and stepped out of the restaurant. It was time for her to go.
Ceria kept glancing about the street, her gaze wistful. She had taken a liking to this rough-hewn North.
"Harad. Lady Ellen."
On the road to the gate, someone hailed them. It was Gulen.
"Not busy, are you?"
"Just came down for a bit."
Gulen's waist, as he said so, was bare. In its place, a double-bladed axe — the kind one could sooner picture in Toremote's hands — hung across his back.
"Puberty's finally over, then."
"...Our commander says you're to share a meal with him one of these days."
"I'll pay him a visit."
"Do that."
Gulen turned his head.
"That woman's the priest in question?"
"A pleasure. I am Ceria, servant of the sun god Raan."
"Pleasure's not mine. But I'll give you the greeting all the same."
Gulen made no effort at all to hide his dislike. Then his eyes met Ellen's and he shrank into himself. Ellen was glaring at him.
Gulen glowered at Harad, who had done nothing whatsoever.
"...I heard the rumors."
"Rumors?"
"Yes. Let's watch ourselves carefully, shall we."
Gulen clapped Harad hard on the shoulder, tossed out the cryptic remark, and strode off toward the plaza.
"My apologies. Our knights run a bit coarse."
"Oh, it's quite all right. That was a refreshing reaction, really?"
Ceria did not lose her smile. If anything, it deepened, as though the encounter had been a welcome one.
"The North is such a refreshing land."
"Plenty here the continent doesn't have."
"Exactly. Everything here feels new to me. It makes me want to paint it all — with the color of Radiance."
"..."
Ceria spoke like one standing at the threshold of her temple.
The send-off felt long. At least, it did to Harad. To Ceria, it seemed brief.
By the time they reached the gate, regret was written plain across her face.
"May I pray for another chance to meet you?"
"Pray as you please. Your heart is your own."
Ceria looked at him steadily.
"Are we... friends?"
The question came from nowhere, and Harad laughed. Ceria was an exceptional priest.
"Please tell me honestly."
"I dislike you. 'You people,' rather, I should say."
It was simply a mage's nature. Nothing to be done about it.
"I thought as much." Ceria beamed.
"I hope that someday you won't dislike me anymore."
Harad was, frankly, taken aback. She seemed to know precisely how she looked in his eyes.
"I hope so too."
"You really are wicked. And practiced at it, too."
Ceria studied him once more. Then, belatedly, she opened her mouth.
"Um—"
"Hm?"
"Never mind. Might I have a word with Ellen?"
Harad stepped aside without protest.
"Ellen."
Ceria was smiling, as she always was.
Ellen had no answer ready. Friends? She could not say for certain herself.
Only, Ceria seemed to read people well. She had read the heart of Harad, a man nigh impossible to read.
"You like Harad, don't you?"
Another question out of nowhere.
"No?"
Ellen blurted it on reflex. Her voice came out rather high. A cracked note.
"Really? Then—"
Ceria's smile deepened — for Ellen's glare had turned savage.
"Only teasing. Harad dislikes me, after all."
"..."
"But listen, Ellen." Ceria murmured, as if sharing a secret.
"It may not be someone else, you know. Harad may well come to like someone — and what women turn away from, he may come to like all the same."
People in this world come in every kind there is.
Ceria's voice, more than a friend's, flowed soft and unhurried, like an elder sister's coaxing a younger one.
"So, Ellen — next time someone asks... it would be better to answer 'I don't know' than 'no.'"
"..."
"It needn't be a yes. That much alone should be plenty? You are a very beautiful woman, Ellen."
Ceria wrapped Ellen in a tight embrace, then set off down the long road without another word.
Ellen watched her back in silence.
Ceria vanished from view, and Harad returned to her side — still she did not look away.
Harad asked her, offhand.
"Do you think of her as a friend?"
"She never asked me, though."
Harad laughed low.
She must have seen no need to ask. Ceria could read what people felt.
"Which is why I'm asking you myself."
"...Regrettably, no."
The feeling woven into her voice was a puzzle. Even Harad found it hard to read.
"Why?"
"Because then I couldn't play with you anymore."
"You needn't factor me in. Your heart is your own."
"That's not why."
Ellen turned her head. Her eyes met Harad's.
"It's just... how my heart is."
Was it the North, then? Her cheeks were faintly red.