Midterm Evaluation (9)
But the cadets' cheers soon died away, and unrest began to take their place.
"B-But how...?"
"You think we can actually catch that thing?"
"I-I'm sitting this one out..."
"W-We could just hide somewhere and wait it out..."
Among the cadets, a new opinion began to spread — that there was no need to hunt the beast at all, that simply staying out of its way would let them live. Those who echoed it only multiplied as the minutes passed.
Of course, a handful of nobles who prized their dignity objected, asking whether running from demonic beasts was any way for their kind to behave. But the cadets who cared more about passing the evaluation had already been quietly edging backward, one step at a time.
Just as everyone split into camps — hunt the beast or fall back — and each side set about talking the other around...
"...What is all that noise? Aren't we supposed to be hunting low-rank beasts?"
"That's what I heard too... but too many people have already been hurt..."
Such was the state of the Princess and her companions, who still hadn't fully grasped the situation.
"Wh-What did you say?! An Intermediate-Rank Demonic Beast?!"
Hearing the whole story, the Princess was so flustered that she abandoned the careful distance she'd kept from me and stepped right up.
"That's... hard to believe."
Isabella lowered her head, murmuring something under her breath as though searching for a countermeasure.
"..."
To the Saintess, the welfare of the wounded seemed to matter far more than any of that.
Then, at last, the others' debate seemed to reach its end — about two-thirds of the cadets were already preparing to leave.
Even so, I thought a fair number had stayed. For a group that had been floundering against mere low-rank beasts, taking down an intermediate one was simply impossible.
Which meant that many people had been talked around by Albert. His family name must have done some of the work, but plenty of them had surely been moved by his leadership itself.
I was marveling at the fellow all over again when Albert came toward me — no, to be precise, not toward me, but toward the Princess and her party standing behind me.
The Princess and Isabella fixed their gazes on him as he closed in without warning, while the Saintess — her treatments finished at some point — clutched her rosary and recited a prayer, as though restoring her holy power.
Having walked right up to her, Albert then said something none of us present expected.
"Your Highness, could you lend us your aid?"
The Princess's brow creased, if only slightly — and though I couldn't see my own face, I imagine it did the same. Hers out of reluctance to be dragged in; mine out of reproach at his choice.
Because for him to ask for help here was as good as certifying that the people remaining weren't enough to take the thing down.
Look at them. Look at how they'd already started whispering among themselves.
The ones quick to read a room would invent an excuse and slip away the instant the Princess refused — and once they did, the numbers would dwindle on their own, and his grand ambition would evaporate all too easily.
I was heaving an inward sigh at the fool's choice he'd made and quietly plotting my own exit when Albert turned and put a question to the Princess.
"Your Highness, by what chance do you travel with the Saintess and the young lady?"
"Well, obviously, we're on the same team—"
"Your team was made up of different people, was it not?"
"...Is there some reason I owe you that answer?"
Setting aside how he'd even learned she was on a different team — what good could that knowledge possibly do, that he'd bring it up now?
Before my question could be answered, Albert moved on to the Saintess, who was still rattling off her prayer.
"Saintess, could you lend us your aid?"
"...I..."
"If you will not step forward, then there is nothing we can do — but I cannot begin to guess how many casualties would follow."
"..."
"So I ask you this. Saintess, please help us."
"Wait — you!!"
The Princess hurried over, trying to stop Albert as he bowed his head — but the Saintess already seemed sunk in thought.
"What is there to stop, Your Highness?"
"You... you knew all along, didn't you?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
Knew what, exactly? And why was the Princess trying to hold the Saintess back? And why were those three traveling together in the first place — the Princess, who had gathered every last member of her own team, and Isabella, who despised being paired with anyone at all?
The Saintess — the voice of God. A woman revered by every soul within the Church, who bestows blessings and pours out grace as the miracle of God made manifest. Because of that, her standing in the Church ranked second to none but the Pope — which meant, in turn, that a single word from her lips could become the will of the Church itself.
The moment my thoughts reached that far, the whole picture snapped into focus. The Church and the Imperial family had been at each other's throats since time immemorial. A Church that worshipped God as the creator of this world, and an Imperial house that held mankind must be ruled by mankind — the two were never going to get along.
To a throne whose very authority was threatened by God's existence, every last thing the Church did was bound to grate. In other words, these two had no business strolling about together, giggling like the best of friends.
But what if, for some reason or other, the Imperial family and the Church had decided to mend fences? To the factions busy shoring up their positions from within, it could hardly be anything but welcome news — and it was no bad bargain for either side, either. The Church would find its dealings with the throne far smoother, and the Empire could finally bring in the healers it so desperately lacked.
The current Emperor had almost certainly chosen exactly that. Whether the Pope had accepted the terms, I couldn't say.
But consider this. What if the Saintess were hurt in some unfortunate accident, right here inside the Empire? The Church would, naturally, rage — and the budding friendship would shatter beyond repair. The Empire wouldn't want that either, which was precisely why they'd planted the Princess at her side so openly, reasoning that with a Princess of considerable magical talent guarding her, the Saintess would come to no harm during the Academy's evaluation.
Nor was it a bad arrangement for the Princess herself. It would firm up her standing as heir apparent, and being seen on close terms with the Saintess would spin her a personal thread of connection to the Church.
That must be why she'd thought to recruit Isabella, too, who always walked alone — with her along, the girl could be protected all the more securely.
What none of them had counted on, though, was a situation like this one. With an intermediate-rank beast loose in the middle of the evaluation, not even the Princess could swear she could keep the Saintess safe. And if the girl were hurt — even without a shred of ill intent — the scandal would bury her. That was why the two of them had been trying to slip away.
But Albert, somehow, had caught on. He already knew the truth — and he'd used the fact that people would be hurt without her to stoke the Saintess's compassion.
And the reason the Princess still didn't openly bar her way, even now, was that the Saintess knew nothing of the politics between the Empire and the Church. Saintess or not, being wielded as a political tool without ever being told would leave a bitter taste in anyone's mouth — so the Princess held her tongue.
In the end, the decision rested entirely in the Saintess's hands — and it had been as good as made the moment she heard Albert's plea.
"...I will help you, Brother Albert."
"Thank you!! Saintess!"
Of course. She was the Saintess, after all.
Knowing her heart, there was no way she'd step back over a mere evaluation after hearing that the wounded would only multiply.
And once the Saintess took the field, the Princess — bound by duty to protect her — would have no choice but to follow automatically.
Whether he'd calculated every step of it or simply stumbled into luck, Albert's lips were brimming with a victorious smile — while the Princess, looking utterly undone, pressed a hand to her forehead and sank down where she stood.
Showing no sign of fatigue, Albert extended the same offer to Isabella, and Isabella accepted as well.
With even Isabella declaring herself in, the Princess had no move left to make. All she could do was swallow the bitter pill and guard the Saintess, willy-nilly.
"Haah... do you even have a plan? Can you actually kill that thing?"
"Of course."
"...Understand that if you fail, I won't let it go."
And so their private negotiation came to a close — and then someone yanked at me, standing quietly at the back and watching it all unfold.
"U-Um... Jenison?"
"What is it, Lianna?"
It was Lianna, who had been watching beside me from start to finish. For some reason she seemed anxious, tugging at my sleeve over and over.
"Um... are we... are we catching that thing too...?"
"Ah."
So that was the problem. She needn't have worried, though — I had no intention whatsoever of hunting that beast. For someone who needed top marks out of this evaluation, it was a gamble with far too much riding on it.
"Don't worry, Lianna."
"Uh... um..."
"We're not going after the beast."
Meaning it as reassurance, I stroked her hair and murmured the words low — but it didn't seem to have a calming effect, because her face only kept flushing redder and redder.
I was just about to check whether she'd come down with a fever when I heard footsteps drawing near, and the figure I found when I turned around was the last person I expected.
"You should join us as well."
"...Saintess?"
It was the Saintess. I had no idea why she was suddenly coming to me — but I could tell, at least, that most of the cadets around us, Albert, the Princess, and Lianna included, had turned their eyes this way.
"...Why are you doing this to me?"
"It seems things would go easier with you around."
"...Are you aware that I'm weak?"
"I couldn't say about that. But He said so."
That you will be needed — so she said, pointing straight at me, and for an instant I nearly sent a dagger flying at her.
"...Say that again."
"You didn't hear me...? Why is your face doing that...?"
"Say. It. Again."
The "He" she spoke of — I didn't need to look to know who that was. There was only one being the Saintess would call "He," the Emperor aside.
"...Let me ask you something, just to be sure. Saintess."
"...Yes?"
"This 'He' you spoke of... is He God?"
God. That bastard.