The Medal (2)
Thinking back, I never really received that many awards during my school days.
Of course I got a few. Perfect attendance, that sort of thing.
So I used to envy the kids who racked them up constantly. I especially envied the ones who won the big prizes and got to stand in front of the entire student body while the principal handed them over. I wanted to stand up there and receive one myself someday.
In the end I never managed it. Turns out it wasn’t that easy.
And now, that dream had finally come true.
Only instead of the whole school, it was the bureaucrats serving in the imperial capital. And instead of the principal, the Emperor of the Empire himself was pinning the medal on me. Minor differences, really.
Well… maybe not so minor.
I decided to treat them as minor anyway. Otherwise the nerves would short-circuit my brain.
“In accordance with the will of the Goddess, His Imperial Majesty the Emperor—guardian of humanity and shepherd of the Empire’s subjects—shall now bestow a medal upon the holy and sacred incarnation chosen by the Mother of Humanity, the Saintess.”
The man acting as master of ceremonies finished speaking, and the Emperor politely held the medal out to me.
Normally he would have pinned it to my clothes, but I was wearing the Holy Shroud. The pin on the back of the medal simply wouldn’t go through. Changing into something else just for the ceremony felt awkward too—nothing else had the Holy Shroud’s defensive properties. I wasn’t about to ditch my only real protection just so I could wear a medal for five minutes like an idiot.
So I accepted the medal with both hands. The Emperor spoke.
“Thank you for saving the children of the Empire.”
I never imagined the Emperor would express gratitude with his own mouth. Internally I was stunned, but on the outside I kept playing the holy Saintess for all I was worth. I had that much social awareness, at least.
“I merely did what was expected of me.”
And just like that, the medal ceremony was over.
Normally a lavish banquet would have followed, but I’d asked them to skip it in the name of fiscal responsibility. Instead there was a short reception in a hall with light refreshments where the Empire’s key figures and high-ranking clergy could mingle.
Honestly it was a pain, but I could yield this much. The Empire clearly wanted to use the occasion to strengthen ties with the Church. The moment I saw the high clergy had come along with me instead of me arriving alone for a simple medal, I figured it out.
Ah. This wasn’t just about giving me a medal. This whole ceremony is a carefully calculated political move.
“Am I allowed to be this smart?” I muttered under my breath, quietly impressed with myself.
The Fairy of Bombardment sighs and remarks that humanity’s future looks rather bleak.
How could a little sparrow possibly grasp the will of a phoenix? Arrogant little thing, but I’d let it slide this once.
Anyway, the high clergy and imperial officials began their conversations. And what was I doing in the middle of all that?
Standing silently at a table, stuffing snacks into my face.
I didn’t have anything useful to discuss with imperial bureaucrats. Maybe after the tutorial kicked off, but not now. So I could just relax, eat snacks, politely return the occasional greeting, and then head straight back to the Holy See.
These were pretty good, by the way.
I reached for another piece of chocolate without a second thought.
“……Um, hello?”
Someone spoke behind me. I turned and found a girl who looked a little younger than me standing there.
I recognized her instantly. There was no way a young girl would be present at a ceremony attended only by high imperial officials. That left only one possibility.
“It is an honor to meet you, Princess Chartia Aclessia.”
Royalty, of course.
The moment I identified her, the princess’s face lit up.
“Yes, Saintess! I’ve wanted to meet you for so long!”
The second I saw her I knew: she was genuinely beautiful. The game’s description of her as the Empire’s jewel hadn’t been empty praise.
But more than joy, I felt a pang of regret. During the simultaneous surprise attacks on the capital and the Holy See, the princess would die. Anyone who started playing after the tutorial never got to see her. At best you learned from in-story mentions that there had once been a princess among the imperial family.
Honestly, I wanted to save her. Having more people with the Emperor’s blood couldn’t hurt. But I had no idea when or how the attack would come, and I was already up to my neck in my own problems. Helping the princess was probably impossible.
“I see. I’m delighted to meet you as well, Your Highness. I’ve heard many times that you are the most beautiful jewel in the Empire.”
So the least I could do was treat her kindly. A little consideration for someone living on borrowed time wasn’t too much to ask, right?
I smiled as gently as I could. The princess looked moved.
“Th-that’s far too kind! You’re the beautiful one, Saintess!”
Being called beautiful by someone when I used to be a guy… I did my best to produce a properly saintly smile.
“Ahaha…….”
I tried. I had no idea how to react to a genuine compliment on my looks, so all that came out was a hollow laugh. The princess didn’t seem to notice.
“I-I really, truly wanted to meet you. I… I look up to you! Going out onto the battlefield, achieving such great feats, even receiving the Imperial Medal of Merit… You’re incredible!”
My mouth twitched. Being admired by a princess—no, by a Saintess named Maria—felt like the first real payoff for everything I’d suffered since becoming her.
“It was only possible through the Goddess’s protection.”
Complete nonsense, of course. But I knew that playing humble would polish my image far better than taking credit. So I did the saintly thing and gave all the glory to the Goddess.
“Woooow……!!”
See? She looked even more impressed. Suddenly I was glad I’d come to receive the medal. Just listening to a pure-hearted princess heap praise on me felt like free healing. How could it not, when a beautiful girl was hyping me up like this?!
Was there really no way to save her? I wanted to save her so badly.
I was just starting to dig through every scrap of game knowledge I had—and even the not-particularly-reliable wisdom of the Fairy of Bombardment—when the princess suddenly asked:
“……Do you think I could become someone like you, Saintess?”
The abrupt question made me echo it back.
“Like me?”
She nodded firmly.
“Yes. Free, beautiful, and strong… like you. Do you think I could become someone like that?”
The Fairy of Bombardment says it has no idea who she’s even talking about.
You shut your mouth first.
This was bad. One wrong answer and I’d crush the princess’s hopes. But I couldn’t give her some irresponsible platitude either. She wasn’t a little kid; she was old enough to know how the world worked. She’d see through empty words in a second.
I had to nail this. An answer that didn’t trample her hope while still mixing in just enough reality.
The Fairy of Bombardment frets dramatically that a wrong answer here could cause real disaster.
I know.
I drew a deep breath and spun the mental gears as hard as I could. And then I found it—an answer even the Goddess would be moved by.
In truth, she never wanted to be a princess at all.
She was nothing more than a spare—kept on hand in case something happened to her older brother, the Crown Prince. Because of that single role, every freedom had been stripped from her. That was the essence of the person called Chartia Aclessia.
She understood. The Emperor’s existence was indispensable to the Empire’s protection, and only the Emperor’s own children could inherit the throne. That was the contract. And she was one of only two such children. Of course her safety came first—far ahead of her freedom.
She understood. And she still hated it.
A life that had every choice but one stolen from her the moment she was born made her want to vomit. That was why she admired the Saintess.
The Saintess was every bit as important as a princess. She, too, should have had her freedom taken for the sake of safety. Yet the Saintess had gone to the battlefield. Her choice had been given priority over her safety. And she had proven that choice right—not only surviving a battlefield where even one of the Four Heavenly Kings appeared, but driving that Heavenly King back.
I admire you. You achieved the fruit I never could.
If I became strong like you… could I become free too?
How do I become like you?
So she asked.
And after a brief moment of thought, the Saintess answered.
“Actually———”