A Lie Infused with Soul
"Which denomination are you from?" Was Florica really asking that out of genuine gratitude? My comrades and I exchanged uneasy glances. The only one who could answer was Monica sister. And from the look on her face, she seemed ready to collapse at any moment, let alone respond.
Pretending I hadn't heard, I supported her and tried to slip away. Then one paladin reached out to grab the back of my neck.
"The battle priestess asked you a question, didn't she?"
"So what?"
The heavy hand approaching me froze in place. Esen had firmly grabbed it first. The flustered paladin of Mitra tried to pull free, but Esen's grip didn't budge an inch. A creaking sound came from the plate armor as it slowly crumpled.
"You're not some king or emperor. Why should we answer just because you ask?"
"Stop!"
Florica's urgent shout. It wasn't directed at Esen. If she gave an order after Esen had pointed out they had no right to command us, and Esen ignored it again, she'd look like a complete fool, impossible to salvage. So that command was for the paladins who were drawing their weapons.
These bastards. Look at them flip their attitude right after we saved their party member. Even though they heard their leader tell them to stop, the pack of paladins advanced with murderous intent, pulling out flails, maces, and war hammers, slapping them against their palms in a brutish display.
But Mitra's faithful were slow to realize the atmosphere had turned deadly.
"If you don't put that away."
Captain Tomco twisted his face into a savage scowl.
"I'll put a bullet hole in your neck and turn you into meat stew."
Not just our party—everyone else was glaring at them with stern eyes. The heavily armored knights faltered in their steps, looking pathetic. They'd approached boldly when we jumped up, as if expecting it, but froze when even the lilies and pirates reached for their sword hilts.
If our numbers hadn't matched, would they have planned to crush us from the start? The thought must have crossed Esen's mind too, because she started twisting the paladin's wrist with an angry expression. The captured paladin let out a girlish whimper.
The city hall women who'd opened the door for the paladins were giggling behind our backs, stifling their laughter.
...Shouldn't you be panicking and intervening? We're the ones who came to save your city, and now we're fighting each other.
A sudden sense of wrongness. My mind raced desperately. A hunch skipping several steps ahead.
I grabbed Esen's other wrist.
"Hold back. This isn't the time for us to fight among ourselves."
The paladins looked ragged. Torn insignias. Claw marks on their shields. They must have been ambushed and chased out without a chance to react—we hadn't even heard what hit them yet. And behind them was the Mitra Church. If they pushed with their backing, things could get messy.
But Esen sneered.
"I'd love to let go. But I haven't heard an apology for the rudeness yet."
"You bitch...!"
"Watch your tongue, Christensen!"
Florica strode forward fiercely, shouting. There was no stagger in her step. Even with healers patching her up, it was impressive willpower so soon after such an attack. Her pale face met Esen's, who bared her fangs in a grin.
"I am Florica, paladin commander of the Mitra Holy Knight Order and leader of this expedition."
"We've met already, and you're just now introducing yourself? Esen Taiga and her nine underlings."
"I'm the leader, you crazy bitch! Who are your underlings?!"
The elf Nenya bellowed. Knight Reni sighed.
"Don't get mad every time, Nenya. Is this the first or second time?"
"You twins were here too? Didn't see you 'cause you're so small."
Esen tilted her head back to taunt them, then turned to Florica again.
"So why now, paladin? Introducing yourself in a hurry after things got this bad—don't you think you're a bit late?"
"I apologize for rudely prying into your denomination. I only asked intending to donate the reward to that lord's temple. There are many faiths with grudges against Mitra, so I should have been more careful."
Huh. Didn't expect such politeness. Florica tried to stand with dignity, but it was hard soaked to the skin and wrapped in a blanket. The haggard face suffering from hypothermia and pain had long lost its earlier prickly attitude. Our party members surrounding the sisters eased their guard a bit.
"And I apologize on behalf of my subordinate who grabbed you without warning. Seems he has no intention of atoning."
A brief exchange of glances among the paladins. No camaraderie there, at least. I didn't miss it.
The tension eased a little later. The fierce glares shifted back to the fireplace or the unfinished rye cakes. Our party took the stabilized sisters upstairs to the bedrooms. Esen tried to follow, but I quietly tugged her collar.
"Why?"
"Got something to do. Lend me your ear for a sec."
"What for? Didn't you see Monica sister's tear stains? You should come comfort her too—"
Esen, who looked ready to cry following Monica sister, froze with a stiff face the moment she heard my whisper. When I pulled away from her ear, her expression was like she could chew a whole person up.
The nightmare of her heat cycle flashed in my mind, making me flinch a bit.
"You sure?"
Can't say for sure on a hunch alone. Time to find out.
"Remember this, Esen."
"Got it. But remember what?"
"First off, everything I say to Florica from now on is pure bullshit."
"My father sent you here?"
In the end, as fellow expedition members, a few healers from other parties stayed to tend Florica. Thanks to that, I could secretly pass a note via the pirate party's healers, avoiding the paladins' eyes. Florica, hesitating at my hint on the note, came up to the second-floor bathroom. Her eyes widened at my soul-infused bluff.
"My father sent you here? To watch over me?"
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed and legs folded to hide my trembling limbs.
If she reacted to "diocese head" as "father," then this woman was who I thought. One of the Mitra Church's Hero Aptitude holders. Florica Baldenhart. I'd seen it in the papers. On the fast track to special-rank battle priestess, until a missed monster hit civilian homes, causing millions in gold damage. Daughter of the powerful Baldenhart diocese head. And a Hero trait holder to boot. Not someone desperate for promotion fame.
But splashed on the front page as the idiot who caused civilian casualties? That's a different story. The desperation in her voice—whether picking fights with us or apologizing—told me her internal evaluation indirectly. She wanted to make up for the mistake that ruined her position. So she'd grasp any helping hand.
People fall for scams easiest in such straits.
"A diocese head can reach anywhere. Even a women-only closed party. He planted me as a spy in advance. To relay advice if things went wrong."
I jingled the Mitra medal from my pocket. A real gift from rescuing a Mitra bishop on pilgrimage once. Labeled as "trusted by the bishop" or something.
"I see. In these days when porters aren't used much, a female porter is rare... Complicated backstory makes her less suspicious."
But Florica's face twisted not in hope, but despair.
"Tell him this: if he wants to drag me down again, go ahead! Nowhere left to fall anyway!"
...Huh? Not on the same side as her father?
Esen, keeping watch during our secret talk, kept glancing over anxiously. Shit. But not unsalvageable. If "selling out an unreachable authority" failed, I still had plan B...
"Wasn't Christensen and her crew enough to not cooperate? No allies here anyway, but scared I'd shine a little?"
"...?"
Listen before pulling plan B. Even the paladins weren't all on her side? Makes sense. She yelled stop, but they kept coming? The fight didn't happen thanks to numbers, not orders.
"Doesn't Christensen follow orders well? Looked united chanting slogans in the rain."
"United? Me? With my father's people?"
Florica laughed bitterly.
"Remember when I snapped at you girls whispering nicely in your party? After that, Christensen made noise louder from her gut, like she wanted me to hear. Shivering from the cold after docking, she mocked softly if I feared rain and wind. Is that cooperation?"
...Singing hymns in front of the building wasn't checking other parties—it was discipline. The ship noise was internal Mitra politics.
Esen sneered, displeased at the truth. Florica gritted her teeth.
Don't grit. Stay quiet. Pull one more word before someone comes. I quickly deployed plan B.
"The diocese head isn't your only father figure. I haven't said a word about being one father's subordinate."
Florica gasped. Esen did too, curious where this soap opera was going. I signaled Esen to keep watch.
"Some bishop-rank might value your potential highly. Maybe I need to help you from beyond my father's schemes."
"Unreachable authority sell-out" failed. Plan B: "Another unreachable authority sell-out." Of course, selling two in a day doubles the risk of getting caught and beaten to death. From 0.1% to 0.2% maybe. Better than dying blind together.
They fought something but won't say what. The paladins are hiding intent.
Darkness lifted slightly from Florica's face. Seizing the moment, I slipped in slyly.
"What attacked you outside? What was it?"
"...You really don't know? If you do, your diocese head would too."
Bingo. You Mitra bastards knew the demon's identity beforehand? But hid it from us?
Florica shrank suspiciously.
"You really sent by a diocese head?"
"Can't tell if it was the demon or Christensen, so asking. If latter, she and the rest won't survive return."
"...Not just me as diocese head's daughter. Think those below go down easy? Dream talk."
"Those bitches?" Odd nuance. All-female paladin party? The one Esen wrist-crushed whimpered girlishly—'cause she was a girl?
"Can't tell from scars on my back? Ambushed by demon in fog. Hurts like hell."
Florica's face soured.
"Should've been born a man, like father said."
"Why?"
"Why? Would it attack a man so viciously? It'd save me to devour later."
Such fucking...
I thought I was fucked when I shattered the hydra bone. And when I learned my new contract was a women-only party. Now those feel like mere prologues.
I'm destined to hate Mitra from now on.
Tension hung in the lodging as the mayor and escorts arrived.
"Storm's worsening, guests! We might be late. Checked the warehouse—everything alright?"
We greeted casually, but the female mayor and staff narrowed their eyes. Sensing the off vibe?
"I'm starving!"
Esen's quick improv shout started everyone grumbling along. Relief crossed the mayor's face. Thought our wariness was hunger?
"...Lost my mind. You must be hungry. Brought feast—calm down."
The female staff wheeled in a massive cart. Lifting the cover revealed untouched whole chickens and turkeys. Smelled worlds better than salted meat or rye cake.
But 8 hours after arriving shivering, now food? Beyond rude—suspicious. Hundreds armed; not scared of grudge? Like they mixed in something inedible, waiting for hunger to make us eat blindly.
If not for my paranoia, exhausted we'd have eaten unquestioning. Full ones faked cheers—natural. Hid emotional ones behind. Worried Monica sister was among them.
Not enough with Mitra mess... Dragged into this shit, stressing her out.
I signaled Esen. Now.
She bounded cheerfully at the meat cart like a starving rude barbarian. Tripped into a city hall woman serving tables.
"Kyaa!"
"Ugh! Sorry! But you see."
The barefoot woman rubbing her sore head tried snapping, then screamed again. Esen grabbed her ankle, hanging her upside down.
"What's this, you goat bitches?"
Esen hoisted the revealed hoof high. Mayor's face hardened. Other staff too.
Esen grinned murderously.
"Suspicious from start. Hoof clacks too clear."
Retrospect: no village men seen? Only mayor and staff. Storm keeps folks home, but fishing port city? Weird. Why all-female paladins? Obvious. Those fuckers knew it targeted men. Knew and hid? Knew lilies and handgunners were "men" too? Sent all-female squad?
As rage gripped everyone but paladins, mayor clapped. Staff shed clothes, sprouting black wings, revealing themselves. Succubi licked lips, glaring.
"These preys are a bit smarter, huh?"