Merien
The Saintess.
Time slipped by after I made plans to drink with the Saintess, and before I knew it, evening had arrived.
The place we'd agreed on was a tavern a fair distance from the one where I'd drunk with Dorothy.
When we were deciding where to meet, the Saintess had asked me first which bar Dorothy and I had gone to. I told her, and after a moment's thought, she deliberately picked a different one.
Unlike an ordinary tavern with rows of tables packed together, this place offered each patron their own private room.
Considering she went out of her way to find a place like this, I figured she just didn't want Dorothy butting in.
That woman, the moment she found out the two of us were drinking together, would drag a chair over and plop down like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Anyway, I arrived at the tavern about ten minutes early, asked the attendant whether there was a room reserved under my name, and without so much as checking, he told me a guest had already arrived and was waiting.
Should have come even earlier.
The attendant led me inside, and before long we reached the reserved room. I pushed the door open gently, and the Saintess, who'd gotten there first, spotted me and broke into a bright smile.
"Riven, you're here?"
"I am. And here I thought I was arriving early. Didn't expect you to beat me here."
"Oh, no, I only just arrived myself."
She didn't look like she'd only just arrived, but I decided to let it slide.
"What will you be having?"
"Let's start with the drinks."
"Beer?"
"No."
The Saintess called the attendant over as if she'd been waiting for the question and placed her order. I'd assumed she'd get beer or something reasonable, but the name that left her lips was a wine I'd never heard of in my life, and the price that followed was, quite frankly, embarrassing to compare to a few pints of beer.
Someone's got expensive taste.
Not that it was my concern, since she was the one paying.
A little while later, the bottle and glasses arrived, and the Saintess lifted the bottle with practiced ease and poured a deep red wine into my glass.
"This is made at the monastery where I grew up."
"They make wine at a monastery?"
"Of course. It's actually quite famous."
"First I've heard of it."
"Riven, you really don't know anything, do you?"
The Saintess laughed, looking mildly exasperated. There'd hardly been reason on the battlefield to know what wines monasteries were producing, so of course I didn't—but I didn't bother saying so.
I raised my glass and brought it straight to my lips, and in that instant the Saintess rushed to stop me.
"Hold on."
"What?"
"You don't just drink it like that."
"It's alcohol, isn't it? What else am I supposed to do with it?"
"First you smell it. Take in the aroma."
"The aroma?"
"Yes. First you savor the scent, and after a sip or two, don't swallow right away—let it roll around your mouth slowly."
…….
Drinking one glass of wine sure was complicated.
Still, she was going out of her way to teach me, so I did as I was told and brought the glass up to my nose.
It did seem to have a nice smell, though honestly I couldn't quite tell.
"Well? How is it?"
"Smells good."
"See?"
The Saintess's expression brightened a little.
I then brought the glass to my lips, took a big swig the way I usually drank beer, and swallowed it down in one go.
…….
"Tastes good."
The Saintess just stared at me in silence.
"What?"
"What did I just say?"
"To drink it slowly."
"And yet?"
"Compared to beer, that was slow, wasn't it?"
"……Ugh."
The Saintess let out a small sigh. I had no idea what the problem was—I'd even complimented the taste—but she didn't look satisfied in the slightest.
Still, the wine itself was undeniably different from what I usually drank. There was none of that cheap-whiskey feeling of my throat being scorched raw, and it had a flavor too good to be gulped down carelessly like beer.
We kept drinking after that, trading whatever stories came to mind. There'd been no room on the battlefield for two people to sit facing each other over drinks at leisure, and even since coming to the Academy, I hadn't spent all that much time alone with the Saintess, so I'd expected a bit of awkwardness at first—but surprisingly, there was none.
Perhaps because we'd known each other for so long, the time flew by on nothing more than an idle exchange of trivial things.
Several rounds had gone back and forth when, suddenly, a thought occurred to me.
"You know, Saintess."
"Yes?"
"We've known each other for quite a while now, and I still don't even know your name."
The hand holding her glass stopped dead.
"……Sorry?"
"Your name."
"My name?"
"Yes."
I wondered why she looked so startled, but I continued without giving it much thought.
"We're comrades-in-arms, after all. Surely it's all right to tell me?"
…….
The Saintess's face flushed red in an instant.
She had knocked back a few glasses of wine since earlier—so the alcohol was finally catching up to her, apparently.
Lightweight, is she?
"If you'd rather not, you don't have to tell me."
"N-no, it's not that!"
The Saintess answered in a voice far louder than usual. I looked at her, taken aback, and she seemed to realize her voice had come out louder than intended, because she clamped her mouth shut.
…….
…….
What's going on?
No way.
Watching Riven gaze at me with a face that knew absolutely nothing, I slowly lowered the glass from my hand.
Could this man really have no idea whatsoever about the position of Saintess?
At first I thought he might be teasing me. But no matter how long I studied his face, there was no mischief in it—only the genuine blankness of someone who truly knew nothing.
A woman who accepts the mantle of Saintess returns to God, for a time, the name she was born with.
From that day onward, she lives not under her own name but under the name of Saintess, and for the duration, she does not carelessly use her old one.
Then, someday, if she meets the one she loves and decides to spend her life with him, she receives her name back from God. To set down the name of Saintess and live as one ordinary woman at the side of the man she loves—that has been the tradition, passed down since long ago.
So when a Saintess tells someone her name, it means something entirely different from a simple exchange of introductions. It is not something she can give out to just anyone.
And if that someone is a man—far, far less so.
And yet…
…….
Riven was still looking at me.
He really doesn't know…
Come to think of it, there had always been something strange. We'd spent so many years together on the battlefield, yet he knew almost nothing about me, and whenever I brought up something I was sure he'd know, he'd look at me like he was hearing it for the first time.
Even so, I never dreamed he wouldn't know this.
"Saintess?"
"……Yes."
"Are you all right? Your face is awfully red."
"It's the wine."
That was my excuse, for now. Thankfully, Riven nodded without the least suspicion.
What do I do…
Of all people, Riven is asking me for my name…
Of course, I knew he knew nothing. Even if I gave him my name, he would never grasp what it meant. To Riven, it would be nothing more than a comrade asking after a comrade's name.
In that case, wouldn't it be all right to tell him…
No… no matter that it's Riven, it's still too soon…
…….
I looked at Riven, sitting across from me.
Come to think of it, the two of us were the only ones here. These were private rooms, so there was almost no chance of anyone overhearing us, and if I didn't say a word, no one would ever know that I had told Riven my name.
Then…
No one would know… so wouldn't it be fine…
After all, Riven doesn't even know what it means.
I fiddled idly with the glass in my hand, then carefully opened my mouth.
"Riven."
"Yes."
"I'll tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"My name."
"Ah."
Riven's face was the very picture of simple delight—oh, she's finally telling me her name—and watching him, I found myself growing even more nervous. I drew in a small breath.
"In return, I need you to promise me one thing."
"What promise?"
"You must never call me by it in front of other people. Not ever."
……?
Riven stared at me, clearly failing to understand.
"Only when it's just the two of us, alone, may you call me by name. Understood?"
"Ah. Yes."
His expression said he had no idea why any of this could possibly matter. But he'd agreed, so that was enough.
I pressed down my pounding heart and fell silent for a moment.
Maybe I should just pretend this never happened. It wasn't too late yet.
But the fact that the man before me had been the one to ask for my name first kept echoing in my head, refusing to let go.
In the end, I said it in the smallest of voices.
"Merien."
…….
"It's Merien."
I said it.
I really told him my name.
A name I had not once spoken aloud to a single soul since surrendering it to God—I told it, with my own lips, to this man who understood nothing at all.
Hearing it, Riven stared at me for a while without saying anything.
Why isn't he saying anything?
Could he have known what it meant after all—known more than I thought he did?
The moment that thought struck me, my face grew hotter still, and I even started regretting having told him at all.
But a moment later, Riven spoke, as though nothing were the matter.
"That's a beautiful name."
…….
My heart lurched and sank.
This man truly knows nothing.
He didn't know what he had just said, didn't know what was in my heart when I gave him my name—he simply thought my name was pretty, and said so.
And yet, I was happy.
That alone—that Riven, of all people, had called my name beautiful—was enough to undo everything I'd spent the last several minutes struggling so hard to settle.
I lifted my glass to hide the smile creeping up the corner of my mouth.
Truly.
Like this…
I can't give up on you, can I…