The Protagonist and the Saintess (4)
It rained the entire way to the North. Isis watched the rainwater streaming down the carriage wall. The rain fell slowly. It wasn't a heavy downpour, but it was relentless. The road turned into a quagmire, and thick mud clung to the carriage wheels. Once the sun rose and the ground dried, that caked-on mud would become a real headache to scrape off.
"We've been delayed by a day or two, but we should arrive soon. This rain just won't let up," the coachman said, sliding open the small window. Isis nodded, and the coachman slid it shut again. The patter of raindrops drummed steadily against the carriage roof. Isis turned her gaze back outside. Throughout their journey to the North, Aryen had been riding his horse with a deeply pensive expression. His black raincoat was already thoroughly soaked.
"Our relief efforts in Vaktins weren't in vain," said the brown-haired nun sitting across from Isis. She was a nursing sister who had accompanied the priests as part of their entourage.
"So many people were saved by you, Saintess. The local governor was especially pleased that we were able to save so many of the critically ill. Their conditions had deteriorated so badly that, without our help, they would have just sat there waiting for death with no way to treat them." The nun spoke of death with calm detachment. Isis looked at her, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest. This nun had worked harder than any of the priests, tirelessly roaming the disaster zone to treat the sick and injured.
"...Why are you telling me this?" The nun gently ran her fingers over her rosary. "Because your expression has been so dark the entire way here, Saintess." True to the nun's observation, Isis's voice was entirely devoid of energy.
She had seen too much over the past few weeks. Those horrific scenes haunted her even in her dreams. People bleeding from their heads, the rattling gasps of the dying. Faces lost to ruin, and crushed, mangled limbs. Before she met the Hero, the people Isis treated were patients brought directly to her. She would bestow her divine healing magic upon those who sought her out, and they would overflow with gratitude. Isis had found fulfillment in their thanks, which fueled her sense of duty.
Georg, Aryen, and Elroy—whom she had healed before she stormed out of the party—were incredibly resilient. No matter how severe their wounds, they rarely showed their pain. But the reality of the field was different. The patients in the ruins of Vaktins and its squalid temporary camps never looked truly happy, even after their bodies were healed. They either worried about other patients or departed with hollow eyes and voices, leaving behind nothing but a flat word of thanks. These were things Isis had never experienced before. Stripped of the protective walls of the Holy Church and the Hero's party, the Saintess was incredibly naive, and so very young.
"I also heard the rumors. That you refused to leave Vaktins until the very end." The nun spoke with pride, but Isis could not accept it as praise. Self-doubt and guilt reared their heads relentlessly. At the time, Aryen's choice had seemed like the best option. Fighting a battle with a near-zero chance of victory would have done no good for them, the soldiers, or the residents of Vaktins. But was it really, truly the best choice? Was sacrificing a certain number of lives in exchange for a chance to prevent the world's destruction truly the right path?
"I never imagined you would take the lead in disaster relief even after being banished from the Hero's party. It made me realize that you weren't chosen as the Saintess for nothing."
"No, that's not it," Isis said reflexively. The praise gouged her heart like a sharp blade. No, it's not. I... I am...
"...Saintess?" Seeing Isis suddenly deny the praise and shake her head frantically, her face pale as a sheet, the nun tilted her head in confusion. Isis's shoulders trembled before she finally let out a shaky sigh. I wish someone would just tell me. Did we make the right choice back then? Was it right to oppose the Hero's decision?
"I..." Choking on her words, Isis looked out the window again as if searching for an answer. She saw Aryen. He was still kind to her, of course. He knew how to look after his companions, and whenever monsters attacked, he was the first to step forward and handle them. He was the same Aryen as always. If she were to ask him what he thought of her doubts right now, how would he answer? Would he get angry? Or would he nod and say he understood?
"I'm sorry," Isis murmured, taking a deep breath in and letting it out. She couldn't settle her mind. In truth, her thoughts had been in disarray for months, only growing more chaotic with each passing day.
"If something is troubling you, please don't carry it alone. You can always talk to me," the nun said gently. Isis nodded. But she would likely never confess the burden she carried. Even Isis herself couldn't fully put it into words.
The rain was thinning. The sounds of the forest, once drowned out by the downpour, slowly began to return. A cool breeze swept through the air. They said the North grew cold starting in mid-August. With the rain, the temperature had plummeted even further. After three days, the rain finally stopped, the sky cleared, and the Saintess's party reached the edge of the forest.
"Once we pass through this forest, Evernode is just a stone's throw away. Are you feeling alright, Saintess...?" The coachman asked, carefully reading her expression. Isis quickly shook her head to reassure him. *Plop, plop.* The sound of water droplets falling from leaves echoed around them, alongside the gentle babble of a nearby stream. As they passed the final tree of the forest, the vast plains of the North unfolded before them.
"The fortress you see over that hill is Evernode," the coachman pointed out. Isis nodded and leaned her head out of the carriage window, not yet realizing the strange implication in his words.
"Isn't it magnificent? They say it's the largest single fortress in the kingdom," the coachman said, describing it like a tour guide as they climbed the hill toward Evernode. But as the fortress came into clearer view, drawing closer, Isis's pupils began to tremble. The fortress was... completely intact.
Of course, this was something she should have rejoiced over. Yet, with the ruins of Vaktins still burned into her memory, the cognitive dissonance between her expectations and reality made her grip the carriage window frame, her breath catching in her throat.
"If you want to kill everyone in Vaktins, then go ahead."
"Let's say we let the Kraken land, bind its body to the shore, and defeat the Calamity that way. What about the survivors? Who will take responsibility for those sacrificed in the landing?"
Just as the Hero had said, there was no one to take responsibility for the dead. There was no one to take responsibility for the wounded either, not even when she had left the party and headed to Vaktins under the Hero's orders. All the strength drained from Isis's body. Turning her head to look outside, she saw Aryen. He had halted his horse and was staring blankly at the fortress of Evernode.
"...This is..." Uncharacteristically, Aryen was visibly shaken. In his agitation, Isis felt the foundation of the beliefs she had clung to begin to crumble.
"Ah, they're coming out from Evernode to greet us." The fortress gates swung open, and knights clad in armor bearing the crest of Evernode rode toward Isis's party. Isis stepped down from the carriage to greet the approaching knights.
"Welcome, Saintess. I am Rhys Swanson, Knight Commander of the Evernode Knights. I heard you came straight here from Vaktins. You must be exhausted from the journey."
"...I am the Saintess, Isis Plume." Unlike the local governor of Vaktins, there was no trace of worry on the face of Evernode's Knight Commander. Isis couldn't bring herself to ask what had happened. She felt that the moment she confirmed the truth, something deep inside her would break beyond repair.
"I heard you defeated the Fourth Calamity," Aryen spoke up first. Rhys raised his head, locking eyes with Aryen, and asked in a slightly stiffened voice,
"Yes. Thanks to the Hero, we were able to slay the Fourth Calamity. And you are...?"
"I am Aryen Elmion, currently serving as the Saintess's escort." A distinct edge of urgency bled into Aryen's voice. Rhys stared at him, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Are you, by any chance, the mercenary who used to be in the Hero's party?" Aryen frowned, unsure of the intent behind the question, but gave a hesitant nod. "...I see. Well, I suppose you had your reasons." Rhys shrugged indifferently and remounted his horse to lead the way.
"Tell me," Aryen's voice halted Rhys in his tracks. Rhys turned back to look at him. Aryen looked utterly bewildered, his expression laced with a trace of suppressed rage. "Did the Hero—did that bastard really defeat the Fourth Calamity?"
"Yes. The Hero protected the fortress of Evernode, and in the freezing hell beyond the Boundary Line, he fought the Fourth Calamity, the Giant, entirely on his own and cut it down." Rhys spoke clearly, ensuring every word hit home. The Saintess closed her eyes as she witnessed Rhys's fierce defense of the Hero. The more Aryen pressed, and the more testimonies spilled from Rhys's mouth, the wider the crack in Isis's mind grew.
Rhys turned his horse fully to face Aryen. "Look, I don't know what kind of bad blood you had with our Hero, nor do I care what you think of him." A subtle hostility flared in his eyes. Gripping his reins, the Knight Commander warned them in a chillingly cold tone, "But here in Evernode, you had better watch your mouths." Rhys shrugged casually. "That is, unless you want to get stoned by the locals."
Rhys's words dropped like a bombshell, leaving the party stunned. Even the members of the entourage, who knew all too well how terrible the Hero's reputation was elsewhere, couldn't hide their shock as they watched Rhys ride ahead. "What on earth happened here?" "To think they'd defend that cold, silent Hero like that..." The entourage whispered among themselves, but their voices barely registered to Isis. As if possessed, the Saintess and her companions followed Rhys into Evernode.
Rhys looked back at the entourage following quietly behind him and offered a faint smile. "Welcome to Evernode, Saintess." A tremor rippled through Isis's eyes. As she walked, she had to grip the arm of the nun beside her just to keep from stumbling. There was no visible damage. There were no screams, groans, or wails like the ones that had echoed through the temporary camps of Vaktins. Instead, the people walked the streets with bright smiles on their faces. The noisy laughter of children, the bustling cries of merchants, the clatter of passing carriages—Evernode was completely intact.
Her head spun. She felt physically sick. The phantom stench of rotting flesh and the suffocating odor of harsh medicine she had breathed in Vaktins seemed to rise in her throat. But the actual air of Evernode smelled only of fresh grass and pine trees.
"Thanks to the Hero, the fortress was preserved perfectly. The residents were able to return safely to their homes. It was all because the Grand Duke and the Hero risked their lives to stop the Giant from ever setting foot inside the walls."
"We must not let that monster reach the coast. The open sea is out of the question, of course. We must confront it in the narrow strait. We can make it work by utilizing the islands scattered across the channel."
"That... was actually possible?" Aryen's voice trembled slightly. "To pull off such a reckless stunt..."
"And the result of that 'reckless stunt' is exactly what you see before you," Rhys cut in, interrupting Aryen's muttered disbelief.
"I heard the damage in Vaktins was catastrophic." Rhys turned his head, gazing out over Evernode's peaceful scenery. "...The Hero probably carried the guilt of failing to protect that place deep in his heart all this time."
"When you selfishly left the party to follow that mercenary, the Hero didn't ask us to search for you. Instead, he wished for you to support the post-war recovery and comfort the hearts of the wounded."
Why did Bishop Andre's words choose this exact moment to echo in her mind? "Perhaps that is why he fought with such desperate ferocity here."
Duty. Mission. Justice. The words Isis had believed in were dismantled, letter by letter, into meaningless lines. What on earth was duty, what was a mission, and what was justice? The ruined, agonizing sight of Vaktins? Slaying the Calamity through a 'sure' and 'safe' method? Or was it...
"The Grand Duke is waiting." Before she knew it, Isis had arrived in front of the Stroft estate. With hollow eyes and numb limbs, she walked up the stairs and reached the Grand Duke's office. *Knock, knock, knock.* Rhys knocked on the door and opened it.
In the center of the office sat the Grand Duke of the North, Quenor Stroft. Sensing his overwhelming aura, Aryen tensed, while Isis let out a sharp breath. Rhys, who had guided them, walked over to the Grand Duke and whispered something in his ear.
"What a coincidence. To think you would arrive just two days after Elroy's party departed." Grand Duke Quenor stared at the Saintess and her companions standing by the door with his piercing blue eyes, then rose from his seat. "Welcome to Evernode, Saintess." Standing before them, the Grand Duke crossed his arms and spoke in a detached tone. "So, what brings you all this way?"
"We came to... offer our help with the post-war recovery." But was there really anything for them to help with? Isis's voice shrank to a tiny whisper, as if she wanted to crawl into a hole. Watching her, Grand Duke Quenor let out a sigh.
"The repairs on the fortress walls will be completed within the month. The destroyed houses are already being rebuilt, and none of the residents are injured badly enough to require your care, Saintess. If there is any place that might need you, it would be treating the wounded soldiers. But even the most critical among them have already passed the worst of it." Grand Duke Quenor's voice was flat. Unlike in Vaktins, they were not particularly welcome here. The Grand Duke tapped his fingers against his crossed arms before speaking again.
"No, the one who needed your help more than anyone was Elroy." Isis's pupils trembled once more. "When Elroy returned to the castle after the battle, he was practically a corpse. He had wounds so deep that he wouldn't have survived if not for his sheer, unyielding willpower." The Grand Duke's blue eyes pierced through Isis. "If Elroy were still here, I would have asked you to heal him immediately, but I suppose that is a pointless thing to say now."
Grand Duke Quenor uncrossed his arms. "Still, I am sure there was a reason you parted ways with him." The Grand Duke extended his hand. "We will leave it at that. I hope you find your stay here comfortable, brief though it may be, Saintess." Isis reached out with a trembling hand and grasped Grand Duke Quenor's. She did so knowing, with absolute certainty, that something deep within her had already begun to shatter.