The Blunder
"No. This isn't how it was supposed to go."
Why does this damn world keep screwing with me and only me?
Watching the flame that had bloomed at her fingertips sway like a candle in the wind and finally gutter out, she barely managed to swallow the sigh that tried to claw its way free.
Things had gone sideways.
Again.
She had staked her very life as the ante and barely scraped a win, and already the plan was slipping, unraveling at the seams. And this time it wasn't even a mistake — it was a matter of talent.
"You've got to be kidding me."
The sheer unfairness of it was enough to drive her insane. If she had ruined everything through her own stupidity, she could at least blame herself. But who was she supposed to blame for having no gift with a supernatural force that hadn't even existed in the world she came from?
That familiar, grinding helplessness settled over her shoulders once more, and a cursed guilt closed around her skull like a vise. But she had not the slightest intention of letting herself be crushed under it.
The senior she had so deeply admired had never been the kind of person to bow to absurdities like this.
She still remembered her. How could she ever forget? A woman who had thrown away her life, her everything, for a goal that looked utterly impossible — who had burned even her own life to ash and lived like a flame until the end.
So giving up here was something she simply could not allow herself. If the world stood in her way and dragged at her ankles, then she would flip the whole damn board and tell it to stop acting like an asshole.
"Anyway, Goddess — you just sit there and watch."
Enough. She clenched her teeth and cut the useless thoughts clean away. Clinging to a method with no real chance of working was not her style.
Clearly separating what could be done from what could not, and sometimes ruthlessly cutting away the unnecessary — then dragging an impossible goal down into the realm of the possible. Hadn't that always been her field of expertise?
"I'm just going to do this my way."
Vesta did not answer. That was fine. Not stopping her was answer enough.
"Where could she have gone in the middle of the night…"
In the room left empty after Asty had departed, the Lantern Bearer girl sat alone. Accustomed to a life of sleepless, round-the-clock vigilance thanks to the power the Goddess had left behind, she ignored the unfamiliar weight of fatigue and stared blankly out the window — thinking of the one she was meant to guard, who had gone off claiming she would offer prayers to the Goddess.
It was, in a way, a strange reaction. It meant that the empty space left by one girl weighed heavier on her than the absence of the sacred relic and the Divine Power she had carried for her entire life, ever since her sense of self had first taken shape. But Rebecca did not find that fact strange in the least.
The Flame of Benevolence had commanded her to protect the Saintess. To a Lantern Bearer who had waited for the Goddess's return with the last remaining sacred relic of the mortal world held close, She had granted the sacred mission of seeking out Her proxy and shielding her. If that was so, then shouldn't a true and faithful servant be ready to throw away her own life without a second thought?
With the Saintess gone alone into this cold and dangerous night to pray, the absence of the lantern and of Divine Power was a perfectly worthless concern. The power the Goddess had lent her was nothing more than a tool of service, meant to help her serve that person better — not the reason she served, and not a reward for it.
So the Lantern Bearer girl, who had lived her whole life that way, worried only for the Saintess's safety even now, with her lantern gone and her spark lost.
"…I hope she returns safely."
I should never have let her go alone, should I? Even if it meant deceiving the Saintess, should I have followed?
But the Saintess had looked so fragile then that somehow, following her had felt wrong. As if the moment she tried to catch her, she would simply vanish. There was no real basis for it — only a feeling she couldn't shake.
Ever since the day Count Montpellier's rampage had dragged the city into a minor uproar, the Saintess had begun blaming herself for everything. Not a drop of the blood spilled that day had been her responsibility, and yet she had tried to gather every sin onto her own shoulders out of boundless self-sacrifice. Of course Rebecca found even that saintly of her — but wouldn't it be better if she were a little more shameless, a little more selfish? Watching her sink deeper into gloom was hard on the one who served her, too.
Praying that this time, at least, the Saintess would recover the vitality she once had, the Lantern Bearer drifted into quiet reflection.
"I'm back."
And her prayer was answered — in a somewhat peculiar fashion.
"Welcome back. But that thing you're holding in your mouth…?"
"Ah, it's nothing. I just felt like trying it out for the mood."
Asty had returned earlier than expected, a tightly rolled scrap of paper clenched between her lips. What mood she was trying to capture, and what exactly she was imitating, was anyone's guess — but the scrap of paper looked thoroughly disreputable.
"I see. And how did the prayers to the Goddess go?"
A late-thirteenth-century European had no reason to know what a cigarette was, and Asty acting in ways no one could understand was hardly a first. So Rebecca let the vague air of delinquency rolling off her pass without much curiosity.
"Ah, well, about that… tsk. Where do I even start."
She had let it pass — only to flinch all over again at the fresh wave of sheer delinquency that followed. Asty wore a deeply sour expression, seriously mulling something over, then handed the lantern back to Rebecca. A small flame bloomed at the tip of her index finger, and she used it to light the scrap of paper between her lips.
"Ah…!"
"Honestly, I don't really understand how this happened either. So take what I'm about to say with a grain of salt."
The use was a little strange, but that flame was unmistakably proof of divine favor. Convinced at last that the Goddess had granted Her power, Rebecca was about to offer congratulations as if it were her own triumph — but Asty, fully transformed into chain-smoker mode, got her anger out first.
"Looks like our Goddess is a real cheapskate. Or maybe she just doesn't think about anything at all."
What? Did things not go well?
Faced with Asty suddenly pouring venom on Vesta, a flustered Rebecca could only stare. For a girl who had sworn her entire life to following the Goddess's will, hearing the Saintess chosen by that very Goddess badmouth Her was a worldview-shattering shock. Asty had always had her share of complaints about the Goddess, of course — but she had just met Her in person. Rebecca had never imagined she would still be grumbling even after receiving Divine Power, and so she could only sit there like a fool, every emotion written plain across her face, and listen.
"Anyway, stopping the war from breaking out is impossible now. I did manage to get Divine Power from the Goddess, but… as you can see, the firepower is pathetic. Nowhere near enough to rein in our accident-prone noble lords."
Asty summed up the situation in a cold, dry tone. She had somehow wrung Divine Power out of the Goddess, but its strength was so weak that the whole effort might as well have been a failure. Her top priority — stopping the war itself — was now out of reach. All that remained was thrashing about to reduce the number of casualties however she could. She accepted that bleak reality with a face that showed not the slightest regret.
Around then, Rebecca finally realized what was wrong. In the eyes of the Saintess who had returned from an audience with the Goddess, madness was swirling.
"Now that it's come to this, we don't have a choice. We go with the original plan."
Again: Asty did not look the least bit sorry. She had effectively failed to acquire usable Divine Power and lost the chance to save countless lives — and yet she was grinning as if she were actually pleased.
"We back Count Montpellier, make him King of France, and buy ourselves time to invest in rebuilding the Order. Nice and straightforward. We should have done it this way from the start."
"…Saintess? Are you all right?"
"Yes. Perfectly fine. This was my specialty to begin with."
Rebecca finally couldn't take it and tried to check on Asty's mental state, but Asty brushed even that aside with a calm smile. She looked so genuinely fine that Rebecca couldn't bring herself to press further. A Lantern Bearer's mission was not to lead, but to protect. A tool for achieving a purpose had no need of free will. If this was the path the Saintess had chosen, then no matter how hard or painful it became, she would simply follow in silence.
"Still, if I'm the only one who knows, things could go wrong in the field. Better to brief everyone on the operation. Rebecca, go call Elder Pates and Mister Arturo for me. Oh — and tell Elder Pates to bring a map of Western Europe."
"I cannot."
Except for this. Rebecca shook her head firmly and pointed at the clock hanging on the wall. Asty looked where she pointed with a startled expression, then smacked her own forehead with a sheepish look.
Right. It was still before dawn. The sun hadn't even risen.