I Became a Head Priest (5)
It was a minute difference, but the sapling had unmistakably grown.
...Not bad.
The goddess, however, made a tremendous fuss over a tree that had grown by the merest fraction.
"Stop it, stop! That's not a good thing!"
"Isn't growing quickly a good thing?"
"No! The tree will develop a sense of self!"
"...And that's a problem?"
As far as I could tell, the worst that would happen was having to watch the tree's mood every time I pruned a branch or picked its fruit. It hardly seemed like something that warranted such a negative reaction from the goddess. Still, I waited for her answer, wondering if a self-aware tree might cause some other kind of trouble.
"I'm not joking — you really need to be careful! In a mere thousand years, it'll develop a self and become a World Tree!"
"...A thousand years? Is that actually dangerous?"
"It's incredibly dangerous!"
The goddess explained with what sounded like genuine fear.
"My mom let her guard down just like that, and the entire elf race — who were her worshippers — got stolen by a World Tree!"
"..."
Even if I live to a ripe old age, I'll be long dead before this thing becomes a World Tree.
I ignored the goddess's warning over what struck me as a trivial side effect and finished pouring Heal onto the sapling. If possible, I hoped it would keep growing this fast and start bearing fruit.
"Kyaaaaah! My worshippers are going to get stolen!"
The goddess's scream rang straight through my eardrums.
"...It's not as if we have many worshippers to steal in the first place."
"That's so mean! And there aren't many, but it's not zero!"
"If you're that worried, I'll chop it down before I die. So please don't fret."
The screaming voice went quiet.
"...You promise?"
"If it would put your mind at ease, I'll even put it in my will."
She really was a thoroughly troublesome goddess.
"Hehe, then give me breakfast!"
In more ways than one.
"Since it's morning, I'll keep it simple."
What I prepared was truly nothing special. Breakfast consisted of nothing more than a loaf of bread split in half and stuffed with salad.
"Nom nom."
"It's tasty, hehe."
My cooking skills weren't terrible, apparently — her reaction seemed quite favorable. Priest Malza was of the same opinion.
"This is delicious! ...But Priest, you're not eating again?"
"My stomach is unsettled, I'm afraid. As one gets older, the mornings can be difficult. I hope a young priest like yourself will understand."
This time, it wasn't an empty excuse to paper things over. My stomach genuinely wasn't well. For that reason, I had no choice but to skip breakfast for once and head to the clinic.
Come to think of it, entertaining the Saintess is going to be a problem for the clinic work as well.
I couldn't be in two places at once, so one of the two duties would inevitably suffer. And the clinic was the more likely casualty.
Hmm. No — I could just bring the Saintess to the clinic and put her to work. That would solve it.
She was a Saintess, after all. Handling a healing miracle or two shouldn't be any trouble for her. With Priest Margaret having fled, the more hands we had to help at the clinic, the better. If the lord ever found out, he'd have a fit.
The clinic I arrived at was in a state of chaos unlike its usual self. It wasn't because there were too many patients. The reason was obvious. Priest Margaret, the head of the group, was away.
"Isn't there a proper priest here?! My arm is broken, and you're slapping on some medicine and a splint? Bring me a priest who can work miracles!"
A loud, grating shout carried through the clinic. Judging by his clothes, the man responsible looked to be one of the city's nobles. He was arrogant even at a glance, and with a noble title on top of that, the ordinary priests couldn't so much as lay a hand on him. They were having a miserable time of it. This never would have happened on a normal day, with Priest Margaret around.
In that situation, I quietly approached the man. The first to react was the flustered priestess.
"Priest Plawi!"
Her face lit up as if she'd just seen her savior. Only then did the nobleman turn to look at me as well.
"You're that Flower Priest? Perfect timing. I've badly injured my arm—"
Before he could finish, I stepped behind him and lightly squeezed his throat.
"My apologies, but we don't serve troublemakers."
Unable to withstand the pressure on his throat, the nobleman lost consciousness and went limp. I would have liked to send him on his way without even setting a splint, but that would only make things difficult for the clinic staff. I had no choice but to treat the broken arm, then locked eyes with a sweating attendant and issued a warning.
"This gentleman's blood pressure spiked and he fainted briefly. Fortunately, we took appropriate measures and he's recovered safely. Please take him home as he is."
"...Y-yes, Priest."
Fortunately, the attendants were far more reasonable than their master.
"Without Priest Margaret around, the troublemakers really do start crawling in."
"Haha..."
The priestess couldn't quite bring herself to agree, and only laughed awkwardly.
After that, I drew on my old experience running a clinic and worked through the remaining cases. Among them, following the noble troublemaker, was a pint-sized one — a little patient with a fishbone stuck in his throat who refused to open his mouth because he was scared. In the end, I couldn't even perform a procedure and had no choice but to treat him with Heal.
"Priest!"
"Yes?"
"I want the strawberry medicine! The strawberry one!"
"No. You're getting the pumpkin medicine."
"Waaaaah!"
There was no need to prescribe any medicine at all, but I made the child cry anyway, just because he was being bratty.
"Wait, is there actually strawberry medicine?"
Of course there isn't.
"Dang."
Where on earth did she pick up that way of talking?
I kept moving in a blur after that. As afternoon arrived and the patients gradually thinned out, the last patient of the day walked in.
The patient was an elderly woman. She wore a faint smile, and with a light dusting of makeup on her face, she gave the impression of a rather well-to-do lady.
"Young priest, I've come because my back hurts. Might I receive treatment?"
Even her intonation and manner of speaking were refined — she had the air of someone well-educated. But there was no mistaking her.
"I'd rather you didn't play games, Priest Margaret."
"Tsk. So you caught me."
The elegant elderly woman immediately scrunched up her face.
"Just shut up for now. I snuck this vacation past the church folks as it is. If I get spotted here, it'll be a problem."
So the lord wasn't the only one she pulled this on.
I offered a brief moment of condolence to the people of the Earth Church.
"If that's a concern, wouldn't it have been simpler not to come at all?"
"Hmph. You try looking at the state of this clinic and not worrying."
Apparently she'd come because she was worried about the clinic.
"On top of that, I heard some noble brat kicked up a fuss."
"I knocked him out and sent him on his way."
"Reliable as ever. Well done."
After offering that satisfied bit of praise, Priest Margaret checked for any sign of listeners, then lowered her voice.
"Since you've already caught me, I'll tell you. You've probably heard the news by now."
I could guess easily enough what she was about to say.
"You mean the news that the Saintess of the Sun Church is coming."
"That's right."
I nodded in acknowledgment.
"And do you know why the Saintess is coming?"
"That, I haven't heard."
But I had my own suspicions. It had come up in the Gallery once already.
"The Sun Church's Saintess is coming because of a demon."
So the Gallery's speculation was right.
The guess had been correct. Still, I played ignorant and asked.
"Has a demon been summoned?"
But to my surprise, Priest Margaret shook her head.
"If it had been summoned, that would actually be a relief."
"...?"
At the word "relief," I furrowed my brow — not acting this time, but genuinely puzzled. I couldn't easily imagine something so bad that a demon summoning would count as the better outcome.
"A demon summoning isn't the kind of thing a Saintess of her caliber would personally show up for. That's a job for Inquisitors or Holy Knights in the first place."
Priest Margaret pressed her fingers to her forehead as if the whole thing gave her a headache. She was silent for a moment, then let out a sigh and finally spoke.
"The demon crawled in on its own."
Without even a summoning ritual. I turned over the meaning of what she'd just said. Based on what I'd learned studying theology, only one possibility came to mind.
"Is it the Demon King, by any chance?"
But Priest Margaret shook her head. It wasn't that.
"Fortunately, it's not the Demon King. Or rather — 'fortunately' might be the wrong word. This might actually be worse."
At that answer, I finally couldn't take it anymore.
"Please stop drawing this out. It's frustrating."
"Tsk."
Priest Margaret shot me a sidelong glance at my nagging, then finally spat out the answer.
"To put it simply — the front door that was closed has been opened."
It was an analogy I couldn't immediately grasp. But the explanation that followed made it more or less clear.
"This land isn't locked, but the front door is closed. That's why otherworlders sometimes slip through, and why the rotten ones pry those cracks open to summon demons."
"..."
"But some lunatic threw that front door wide open. And they jammed a wedge in so it can't close again."
One person came to mind.
This is about the former Judak.