Cuties from the Holy Nation (2)
“They hardly look like knights.”
Cardinal Iham's gaze was stolen by Sisilia, who rode ahead on horseback, guiding the carriage from outside. The Holy Nation did have female holy knights from time to time. But they were all burly and robust. The idea of such a slender girl being a knight was unimaginable.
“Just as you say. And what about that hideous armor? It's utterly impractical—not a shred of utility to it. It's offensive even to call it knightly attire.”
“...Are you gay, by any chance?”
“?”
“No, never mind.”
Practicality aside, Sisilia's outfit was captivating, impossible to look away from.
'And that knight beside her is quite the beauty too. So the rumors about the women of Liannen Kingdom being stunning aren't just talk after all.'
Iham swallowed hard, eyes lingering on the precarious hem of Sisilia's skirt. He resolved to take a few Liannen women back with him to the Holy Nation.
“Cardinal Iham. What are your plans from here?”
Iham snapped out of his sweet reverie.
“Civilizing those barbarians won't be easy.”
“Indeed. Teaching monkeys human speech is no simple task.”
“No, underestimating them too much isn't wise.”
Iham pointed seriously at Sisilia outside the carriage.
“Look at that knight. Every gesture, every movement exudes elegance. Her speech? Flawless, not a single slip. That means this barbarian land at least educates its people properly.”
'...Isn't she just possessed by a saint or something?'
The priests' trust in Iham plummeted.
But he wasn't entirely spouting nonsense.
“Above all, they avoided leading the main force to the capital just because there's no room in the carriage. That shows at least some military knowledge.”
“Uh, isn't it really just because there's no space in the carriage?”
“I doubt it.”
Largon analyzed coolly, like a true knight.
“We've passed plenty of carriages on the way here. Probably merchants coming and going from the port. And that woman looks like nobility at first glance. She could easily seize a merchant's carriage if she wanted.”
But he'd misread the reason. In Liannen Kingdom, even nobles couldn't arbitrarily take a merchant's carriage. Unlike the Holy Nation, where you could kill a commoner on the spot for brushing shoulders.
“They have military knowledge, then. My guess is, to these barbarians, 'knight' doesn't mean someone who swings a sword, but a commander.”
“A commander? So that massive sword on her back is just for show?”
“Hmph, obviously. With her build, swinging something that huge is impossible. Not sure she could even lift it.”
Largon replied confidently to Iham's words. Iham nodded in quiet admiration. As expected of the Holy Nation's Seven Seats Sword Master Largon—such keen insight.
“I suspected as much, but conquering Liannen Kingdom with just today's forces might be impossible.”
“A nation that trains a mere girl in military tactics? You're right; it's likely. We should observe the situation first.”
“How about this?”
One priest offered an idea.
“Preach the Goddess's words and let them awaken to the truth themselves!”
“Ooh!”
The priests exclaimed in unison. Iham, who had planned that from the start, smiled leisurely.
“Well said. Even the ignorant can gain great enlightenment from the Goddess's teachings.”
He gazed at Sisilia chatting idly outside the window, a lecherous grin spreading across his face.
“Let's test it on that knight first.”
* * *
Iham summoned Sisilia into the carriage first. Seated gracefully inside, she was breathtakingly beautiful up close. Iham put on his most handsome expression and spoke.
“Do you believe in God?”
Sisilia touched her lips as Iham gazed at her soulfully.
'Called it—total cult.'
But Saint Sisilia had the magnanimity to listen to a cult sermon for about 30 minutes, like at a café. Of course, they'd foot the bill.
“Sort of.”
'...You either believe or you don't. What does "sort of" even mean?'
Iham already felt a slight dizziness. But he recited his scripted lines.
“If you're curious about the Goddess or want to know more, ask anytime. I'll answer personally.”
“In that case, I won't hold back.”
Sisilia straightened, hands on her lap. She had mountains of questions, actually.
Iham regarded her leisurely.
“Is the Goddess invincible?”
“...In, invincible? Ahem, of course. She's omnipotent.”
“Is the Goddess good?”
“Naturally. She is justice itself—the creator of the word.”
“Then why doesn't she step in and kill the Demon God herself?”
“...!”
'She's obviously weaker than the Demon God.'
Goddess kill—possible? To Sisilia, it was an epic conundrum. She'd once raged, 'Give me newbies before you go up and die,' but she didn't know if it was truly feasible. Merely—
Sisilia felt the same thrill as when she'd wanted to shatter the moon back then.
The ultimate technique: slaying the Goddess. That had to be badass.
“Th-that's...”
The priests were utterly flustered. Sisilia's casual remark touched a highly sensitive topic for them—a longstanding dilemma.
'If the Goddess is good and omnipotent, why does evil and suffering exist in this world?'
No one had ever solved it. Naturally, lowly priests and a cardinal couldn't either. Not even saints knew.
They clamped their mouths shut. Sensing their ignorance, Sisilia's face showed clear disappointment.
“Rest up. We'll arrive soon.”
Sisilia hopped lightly from the carriage, leaving stunned silence inside. The disembarking priests all wore dazed expressions. Her words echoed relentlessly in their minds.
'She's right. Why doesn't the Goddess punish the Demon God directly?'
'At least smite the Demon King!'
'The world is full of suffering. Why did the Goddess create such things?'
Amid the flood of doubts, massive city gates slowly creaked open.
The priests were astonished for an entirely different reason.
“...My God.”
“Unbelievable.”
They stared, souls rapt.
“Is this... Terezia?”
The lead bishop murmured softly, his voice trembling with awe.
White walls gleamed like beams of light from the heavens, holy bells tolling distantly. Pristine buildings floated ethereally like clouds, blue grapevines and rose tendrils embracing gardens reminiscent of paradise.
A breeze stirred. Golden spires piercing the sky caught the sun, shimmering brilliantly as pure white doves soared from the peaks.
“...This isn't built by human hands.”
A young priest clutched his cross necklace in wonder.
“Lord... how can such beauty exist?”
A nun's eyes reddened; she pressed a hand to her chest in prayer.
Special effects maestro Sisilia smirked faintly at the scene.
'Their reactions are hilarious.'
Laughter suppression difficulty: level 5!
Priests gaping like in cartoons, citizens passing by with 'What the hell's wrong with these idiots?' looks!
'Bald uncle's the funniest.'
Iham's staggering pose, hands raised skyward, was particularly delicious. And this wasn't even the capital Terezia—it was the port trade city Lucentia. Oh, and they'd docked at the most obscure pier.
“You must be tired from the long journey, so rest here tonight.”
Sisilia guided them to their lodgings with impeccable poise, flawless to the end.
* * *
The priests marveled at the inn's interior too.
“What is this place?”
“They've prepared quite lavishly for esteemed guests.”
It was small, but the bed, table, even curtains felt luxurious. Of course, that was their delusion. It was just a standard inn.
“So, what now?”
“This is troubling. Who'd expect a girl like that to have such theological knowledge?”
“...They didn't send her by chance. We misjudged from the start. No one in this kingdom surpasses her.”
The priests nodded in agreement. It wasn't just logic—the atmosphere was the issue. Sisilia was the type to bulldoze with vibe alone. Unaware, the priests were convinced she was a devout soul who wouldn't yield to them.
“Even in this small kingdom, the spark of faith blooms—O great Goddess.”
Some dropped to prayer on the spot. Unnoticed even by themselves, 'barbarian lands' had become 'kingdom' on their tongues.
“This is bad. At this rate, the Holy Nation's plan fails.”
“Debate's out. We need another way.”
“Does Cardinal Iham have a clever scheme?”
Iham snapped to.
“Uh, wh-what?”
He'd zoned out.
“...”
'Hopeless.'
'The cardinal's done for.'
The thought echoed in their minds. But one remained sane.
“I'll challenge her to a duel. We must show the Holy Nation's might.”
“Will that suffice?”
“Before overwhelming power, all is meaningless. Besides.”
Largon smirked.
“That's not the Holy Nation's way, is it?”
Meanwhile, in Sisilia and Beatrice's room.
“Lady Sisilia! Take off your socks properly! It's hard to turn them right-side out!”
Sisilia lounged on the bed in pajamas, shedding her clothes everywhere like a snake.
With innocent eyes, she replied.
“Gonna toss 'em, Betty.”
“...Pardon?”
Betty froze, holding Sisilia's knee socks.
“I don't wear the same thing twice.”
“...”
Beatrice's expression iced over.
“Wear clothes multiple times.”
Sisilia grimaced openly.
“Gross.”
“They're not gross!”
“Take 'em then, Betty. I'm rich.”
“...Lady Sisilia still hasn't repaid my money.”
Sisilia flinched, broke into cold sweat, glanced at Beatrice, then dove under the covers.
“Don't run away!”
Beatrice yanked the blanket. Problem was, Sisilia came up with it—they'd fused.
“...Haa.”
Beatrice reluctantly set down the Sisilia-blanket set and started cleaning silently. While folding Sisilia's skirt, a white note fluttered out.
“Lady Sisilia, what's this? Some kind of note?”
Sisilia peeked from under the covers.
“Oh, forgot about that.”
“Pardon?”
“Queen's order.”
“...You're joking, right?”
Sisilia Windsor.
I entrust all discretion to you. No matter what means or methods you employ, I won't reprimand you—send the Holy Nation's priests back.
Beatrice's heart plummeted. Even for her, this was... this was...!
'Too much!'
Beatrice glared sternly. Seeing her dead-eyed stare, Sisilia startled.
“...Lady Sisilia.”
“Y-yeah.”
“I'm really gonna get mad.”
Sisilia, flustered by Beatrice's anger, swiftly tied her hair into a ponytail. In one second, perfect angle achieved—Beatrice forgot her rage, mouth agape.
“Wow.”