I Became a Head Priest (4)

"Hah—this is a disaster! The Saintess of the Sun Church! The Saintess—!"

"…Please, calm yourself and explain."

I already had a fairly good idea what this was about. But I could hardly mention the gallery's existence, so I played ignorant and waited for the lord to find his words.

"The Saintess of the Sun Church has announced a pilgrimage! Huff—and our city is on her route…!"

He must have come running; the lord could barely draw a full breath. His words were a complete wreck, but I could more or less piece together what he was trying to say.

"I see."

One question, however, I could not let pass.

"But is there a reason you came to me, rather than Priestess Margaret?"

The Saintess coming and the lord rushing to find me were two entirely separate problems. If he needed someone connected to the church, Margaret was the obvious choice—whether you measured by years of service or the size of the congregation.

His answer was simple.

"Priestess Margaret heard the news first, took a leave of absence, and vanished…"

"…"

Then the lord pulled a crumpled scrap of paper from inside his coat. When he unfolded it, a familiar hand met my eyes.

"Ah…"

You really could not underestimate seniority. The moment she heard the news, she went to ground. Impressive, in more ways than one. Of course, the result was that I got left holding the bag.

"I understand. But I have no experience with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anything like this, so I must admit I am a little at a loss. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Is there something in particular you need me to do?"

"There is one thing. That is also the favor I came to ask."

"I am listening."

The lord hesitated. It was not the sort of request he could simply leave unsaid, though, and in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠end he opened his mouth.

"We will need the Church of Flowers to host the Saintess of the Sun Church."

"…Not your manor, and not the Church of the Earth, but our church?"

I was not trying to wriggle out of it. The question was genuine. We had only just finished construction, and the entire congregation consisted of two people. Being asked to receive a Saintess here made no sense to me at all.

"With Priestess Margaret gone, the only person who can serve as this city's representative priest is you, Priest Plawi."

I wanted to ask why it had to be me—and then I thought of what Margaret and I had in common, and my mouth closed all by itself. Heal. To be precise, we were the only two people in the city who could work miracles.

…Maybe I should just disappear too.

I considered it, quite seriously, for a moment. Then I let the thought go. The lord had given me a church; turning down a favor now would look ugly, even if the whole arrangement had been a scheme to plant me in this city in the first place.

"I can do that much. Might I ask, though, when the Saintess is expected to arrive?"

The pilgrimage route that had gone up on the gallery was not a short one. She was scheduled to pass through several cities, so I figured we would have a decent amount of time to prepare.

The answer that followed blew that assumption apart.

"In four days…"

"…?"

For a second I was sure I had misheard.

"Did you say four days?"

The lord averted his eyes, but he did not deny it. I suddenly understood perfectly why Priestess Margaret had fled at the first opportunity.

"That is sooner than I expected. Do you happen to know why?"

"Hnngh—I would like to know that myself. Why must I be subjected to a trial like this…!"

"Oh dear."

The look on the lord's face was that of a man genuinely about to burst into tears. Whatever else was going on, he was not lying, and he was not hiding anything.

"We shall do our utmost to receive her properly. So please, do not cry."

Especially not with that face, I beg you.

Watching a man who looked like he would bleed the townsfolk dry sit there sniffling was deeply unsettling.

"Hnnk. I leave it in your hands."

Once he had more or less pulled himself together, the lord left with Charlotte, who had been waiting outside the church. I saw them off, and then I could not help but sink into thought.

I cannot figure out why she would skip the published route and start near here.

Someone, however, might know.

"Goddess, do you happen to know anything about this?"

The next reply took a little while to arrive.

"…"

I had not been expecting much, honestly.

As I thought. The only place to dig for information right now is the gallery.

I ignored the goddess's voice and opened the gallery I had closed earlier, hoping something more on the Saintess might have gone up in the meantime. True to a board where genuine intelligence and complete garbage rolled around in the same pile, the post I wanted was not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hard to find.

I scrolled past a comment section stuffed with garbage. Then one reply snagged my attention.

That part was news to me as well. Not that nothing came to mind. Right after the news of the Blue Magic Tower's Deputy Tower Master's execution, the gallery had thrown an error. For a coincidence, the timing was uncomfortably neat. And if I was remembering correctly, the official grounds for that execution had been none other than the charge of demon summoning.

Demon summoning, huh.

If I thought about the demons I had read about while studying theology, a sudden pilgrimage announcement from a Saintess was not entirely impossible to swallow. It was still speculation, so I could not treat it as fact—but I did not have a better theory.

I closed the gallery once I had a rough picture. It was not long after that I lay down on the bed.

I am exhausted.

A lot had happened in a single day, I supposed. My eyes were already falling shut.

"Nnh."

I woke with the lingering sense of a restless dream and kneaded my left arm, which had gone stiff. I had gotten up reasonably early, but someone else's sun had risen even earlier; the workmen were already on site and at it before dawn had properly broken.

They came earlier than I expected.

After yesterday, I had half-worried they would not come at all, so the sight was a surprise. Looking closer, though, the faces were not the ones I had seen the day before.

New people?

They had not come to replace the original crew, however. The carts were piled not with shovels and timber but with flower seeds and saplings.

I was standing there trying to make sense of a delivery that had nothing to do with repairing the church when a man in conspicuously tidy clothes stepped out from among the workers and bowed.

"Otto, administrator of Millers. His Lordship sent these as an apology, and as a token of his thanks."

All of it was a gift from the lord.

So he does have a conscience.

What came out of my mouth, of course, was nothing like what I was thinking. It was a thoroughly priestly reply.

"Excessive wealth is forbidden to a priest—but flowers, I am afraid I cannot refuse. Please convey my gratitude to His Lordship."

"I shall, without fail."

And so flowers and flowering saplings were planted in a courtyard that, for a Church of Flowers, had been looking rather bare. It was not a grand payment for the work I had agreed to take on, but they were the sort of things that would have stung the purse if I had tried to buy them myself—and now they were in my hands.

"Wow, are those flower trees?"

Priest Malza had come outside at some point and was staring at the flowers and saplings with shining eyes.

"Elderberry saplings, I am told."

"Elderberry?"

"Pretty blossoms in early summer, and once they mature, they set fruit every year. The berries are good to eat, and they make a fine wine as well."

In more ways than one, it was a tree that belonged at a Church of Flowers. I had even idly considered brewing something from whatever we grew on the grounds, so the elderberry saplings were a gift I rather liked.

Now that I have taken an advance, I can hardly half-ass the job.

I brushed the leaves of an elderberry sapling that came up to my sternum, and I was sprinkling Heal over it the way one waters a plant—a wish that it would grow well, free of blight—when a voice cut in.

She sounded as if she had only just woken up. She started to speak, then went quiet.

"Is something the matter?"

"?"

I found out why soon enough. The difference was slight—but the sapling had unmistakably grown.

…Not bad.