The Tattooed Gospel
“Hah! So you are indeed the nun they said would be coming here!”
The rough, low voice of the barbarian forcibly dragged the nun’s mind out of the language dictionary it had been buried in. Poor Celine felt as though reality had suddenly charged at her and collided head-on. What she found herself facing was ten bandits with their throats torn out, and at the center of it all, a single barbarian standing bare-chested, his upper body smeared with blood and chunks of flesh.
The barbarian flicked the bits of meat from his biceps as though brushing away nothing more than a light dusting of dirt. For a moment, Celine wondered if she had somehow slipped out of reality entirely.
“You weren’t answering, so I thought you must be a different nun!”
Yet the heavy, thudding footsteps approaching her, and the tremors they sent through the ground, reminded her that she was very much still in the real world. Wait—approaching?
Only then did Celine feel the throbbing. Not a physical one, but a mental one. Sister Celine struggled to accept the reality that had crashed into her. That Bahon tribesman was walking straight toward her.
“Uh… uh… uh…?”
The gap between reality and recognition was enough to momentarily strip Celine of her ability to speak.
“Hm…?”
Strangely enough, what finally anchored her mind back to reality was the barbarian himself—or rather, the tattoos covering his torso. Celine knew the Bahon tribe marked their bodies with tattoos of personal significance, but the key point was their uniqueness. These should have been completely unreadable to her, yet they looked far too familiar. The closer he came, the clearer that familiarity became, until recognition struck her with horror.
The tattoos covering the barbarian’s body were—
“The Lord’s… Prayer…?”
Hearing her words, the barbarian grinned, baring his gums. The scar running diagonally across his face caught the sunset light and flashed.
“I knew it! You were dispatched on the same mission of evangelism as I!”
“D-d-d-dispatched…?”
Once again, the familiar word bursting from the barbarian’s mouth was enough to shock her. It also dragged up a sudden memory. The last person sent on a western mission, aside from herself, had been a single paladin several years ago…
What drove a wedge into the thought rising to the surface of Celine’s mind was the barbarian himself.
“Indeed! My apologies for the late introduction! A pleasure to meet you, Sister Celine! I am Harnok Dor Burte Chagin Kutuluk—Karvash, the paladin entrusted with the mission of evangelism in the Western Frontier!”
Sister Celine could endure no more.
‘I should just faint.’
Both instinct and reason whispered the suggestion at once. It was far too tempting an offer. The nun could not possibly refuse.
“Nngh… mm…”
A cool sensation brushed her cheek, and the nun furrowed her brow slightly. When she forced her eyelids open, the first thing she saw was the star-filled night sky of the western frontier. Slowly sitting up, she turned her head and looked around. She was not inside a log cabin, but deep in the mountains. As if to prove it, the only things nearby were trees and one large, writhing boulder…
Writhing boulder?
As though reading her thoughts, the boulder—or rather, its movement—grew more violent than before. It was rising. Only then did the nun notice the campfire burning beside her. Through the flickering light, part of its form became visible.
“You’re awake, Sister! You looked quite exhausted, so I had no choice but to move you here!”
The barbarian grinned, gums and all. With half his face swallowed by the night’s darkness, he looked uncanny—like some ancient, unknown beast smiling.
‘I should just faint!’
Celine barely managed to shove aside the instinct and reason that were now trying even more violently to seduce her. It was truly superhuman patience.
“So… um… that is… you… uh, well…”
“Harnok!”
“Ah, yes… Sir Harnok… So, Sir Harnok, you… um, well, that is…”
“Am a paladin!”
Celine felt her head spin. And the information Harnok continued to rattle off only emptied her mind further.
“I’ve been entrusted with the same mission of evangelism in the Western Frontier as you!”
Her thoughts began to tangle chaotically. Faced with behavior that defied common sense—nay, destroyed it entirely—Celine could not keep her wits about her. A paladin was supposed to wear shining plate armor, yet the man before her was completely bare-chested. There was no executioner’s sword or shield in sight. The closest things she could find were the massive, fifteen-centimeter-thick compendium of holy scriptures strapped to his back and the hoe stuck in the ground beside him.
‘……’
The nun swallowed. She did not know much about the Bahon tribe. They were the terror of the north and the despair of the east, a clan that had long dwelled in the Bahon Highlands, sharing both name and region. She also knew that roughly one hundred and twenty years ago, when the Archdemon had swept across the continent, their great warrior had joined forces with others to repel the Archdemon’s advance and seal it away. But she had never seen a Bahon tribesman whose tattoos were the Lord’s Prayer, nor a paladin who walked about completely bare-chested.
Just as the nun was blinking in the strange feeling that a contradiction had taken human form—
—Grumble—
It was not a particularly loud sound, but in the quiet mountains it rang out louder than anything else. In an instant, her mind, which had been submerged in a sea of solemn thoughts, resurfaced. The resurfaced consciousness was met with a tidal wave. A tidal wave named embarrassment.
Celine felt the blood rush to her face, completely unlike before. Physiologically, there was nothing strange about it. She had gone more than a day and a half without a single drop of water. Still, it was not something a woman serving as a nun should display so openly.
‘What do I do…!’
Celine was certain that, from a distance, her face would look like another flame burning beside the campfire. A slightly odd flame floating in midair. Just as the sound of blood rushing filled her ears, a booming laugh rang out.
“You were hungry! Hah! It is only natural, with night having fallen well past dinner!”
Harnok nodded vigorously. He rose to his full towering height and picked up the hoe he had left on the ground.
“Wait here, Sister! I shall fetch us something to eat!”
“What? No! Wait a moment…!”
Celine’s eyes widened at Harnok’s words. They were in the mountains. The mountains, in the middle of the night. Generally speaking, being alone in the mountains at night was not considered safe—especially not in a dangerous place like the western frontier.
—Awooooo—!
As if to confirm her thoughts, a howl immediately echoed through the air. Celine flinched. It was the cry of a wolf. And it was very close.
“Grrr…”
Her prediction was correct once more. Beyond the nearby bushes, a pack of wolves emerged. The largest one, clearly the leader, bared its gleaming white fangs and crouched low. Even without being an expert on animals, Celine recognized the posture. It was preparing to pounce.
The nun looked at Harnok with wide, trembling eyes. But Harnok did not move an inch. Instead, he closed his eyes and merely moved his lips. Celine glanced between the wolves and Harnok, her voice coming out in a panic.
“H-Harnok?!”
Harnok showed no reaction to her words. His behavior did not change. Meanwhile, the alpha wolf’s growling grew louder. The larger one had made no move. No matter how big he was, they had the numerical advantage. He was clearly afraid. It would be foolish to waste such a perfect opportunity.
“Graaaah—!”
Having made its decision, the alpha wolf charged forward at the head of the pack. The rest of the wolves bared their fangs and snarled as they followed.
“Grrrgh…!”
—Crack—!
In an instant, the surroundings fell silent. Sister Celine blinked. No matter how many times she blinked, the scene before her did not change. She knew exactly what posture Harnok had taken. His arm was fully extended, palm flat. In crude terms, it was the motion of a slap to the cheek. She also knew that someone who received a slap to the cheek usually had their head turned. But she had never seen a head turn a full one hundred and eighty degrees.
—Thud!
The sound of the alpha wolf, its head twisted completely around, collapsing to the ground brought her back to her senses. And soon she realized something else. The wolf pack and she were wearing nearly identical expressions, mouths hanging open in shock.
“Yip! Yip!”
Perhaps it was only natural that Sister Celine felt a strange sense of kinship when the wolf pack turned tail and fled into the forest without looking back.
“Hah!”
From behind her came Harnok’s satisfied rumble. The nun turned her head blankly toward the sound. Harnok was nodding vigorously, a smile on his face.
“To wait until my prayer of thanks to the Lord for providing our daily bread was finished! Truly, a creature with deep reverence for the Lord!”
‘……’
Celine no longer had the strength to reply. So she could only stare at Harnok with her mouth hanging open.
—
“Here you are, Sister!”
“Ah, yes… Thank you…”
Celine bowed her head and accepted the wolf’s hind leg that Harnok offered her. Before everything that had happened since the bandits—events too strange to even describe—Harnok had saved her from the bandits and provided food. And neglecting to show gratitude was never something a member of the clergy should do.
Celine took a cautious sniff of the meat. The roasted wolf meat carried a strange, gamey smell she had never encountered before. The nun carefully lowered herself to the ground and began to chew on the wolf meat. Soon her small cheeks puffed out like balloons. Once food entered her stomach, she felt her strength returning. And with it came the small luxury of looking around.
Harnok was kneeling on one knee, eyes closed, hands clasped together. Setting aside his appearance, his posture was undeniably that of a paladin at prayer. Faced with such unshakable form, the nun’s large golden eyes grew even wider. At that moment, a single ray of moonlight slipped through a gap in the clouds above and fell upon him.
It was a strange sight. In the darkness that had settled over everything, only he shone. Moonlight cascaded like a waterfall between the cracked, boulder-like muscles. The Lord’s Prayer etched into his skin caught the light and gleamed. Unable to put the sight into words, Celine found herself speaking without thinking.
“A paladin…”
“Hm?”
Just then, as though his prayer had ended, Harnok opened his eyes and turned his head. The moment their gazes met—his pitch-black eyes meeting hers—the nun flinched and quickly lowered her head. Her face was burning again. It felt as though she had been caught doing something strangely embarrassing. The nun thought she had been losing her composure far too often today.
“What did you say, Sister?”
Harnok tilted his head, apparently unaware of her state. At the sound of his low voice, Celine hurriedly lifted her head. It was a rather fortunate outcome for her. Thanks to that, she could escape the awkwardness.
Celine knelt properly, straightened her robes, and settled into a neat, formal posture with her legs tucked beneath her. Brushing away the last traces of heat from her face, the nun cleared her throat.
“Ahem, ahem, well… Sir Harnok?”
“What is it, Sister!”
At Harnok’s grinning question, Celine fought to keep her dazed mind clear and parted her lips.
“Well… first of all… thank you. For saving me from the bandits, and, um, for preparing food like this as well…”
“Nonsense! Helping those in need is simply what a paladin ought to do!”
“Yes… So… um… You said you were a paladin, Sir Harnok…?”
When she asked carefully, Harnok gave a single, firm nod.
“Indeed! After receiving my knighthood in the Holy Kingdom, I was given the mission to spread the faith in the Western Frontier.”
‘As I thought…’
Celine slowly nodded. Circumstantially, Harnok had to be the last person sent here several years ago. …Of course, there were more than one or two things she needed to point out, but the nun decided to set those aside for now. After all, it was encouraging to have someone else in the same “exiled” situation as herself.
“As I suspected. So you were also essentially exiled to this dangerous western frontier under the plausible excuse of spreading the faith—”
“A truly righteous decision, I thought!”
“………Pardon?”
The nun had to ask again. Otherwise, it felt as though the very concept of thought would vanish from her mind entirely.
“It is a hundred times right, and then once more! After being dispatched, I came to understand it even more clearly! This western frontier has no proper law and order, so bandit groups appear every other day, and the locals are too busy just trying to survive to even attend worship. In such a situation, how could the Lord’s grace be properly conveyed! My being dispatched here on a mission of evangelism was truly the right decision!”
Celine could not keep her mouth from falling open. This man named Harnok genuinely believed that the council had sent him here because they had recognized the urgent need for evangelism.
“So… what you’re saying now is… that being ‘appointed’ as a missionary was entirely the right decision…?”
“Precisely! It is by the Lord’s grace that we are here, yet the surroundings are so dark that they cannot hear His holy words. How tragic is that! Furthermore, even those wallowing in the swamp of crime deserve at least one chance to hear the Lord’s words!”
The nun was beginning to feel dizzy. The disorganized flood of information made it impossible for her to properly process what he was saying.
“Uh? Uh, um…? Uh, th-then what about those who…?”
“There is no repentance for the impious who reject the Lord’s hand of salvation. Only immediate judgment.”
At the suddenly cold, cavernous voice, the nun swallowed hard. Her lips moved, words coming out haltingly. Perhaps it was simply a clergywoman’s instinctive curiosity. After all, immediate judgment was a paladin’s duty, not hers.
“Um… then… when you judge, don’t you need a… sword…?”
Harnok slowly, firmly shook his head, as though the very idea was absurd.
“What are you saying, Sister! How could a paladin use something as painful as a blade! The least we can do is send them off without pain in a single strike!”
‘You’re saying there’s no pain when you send them off in one blow with a holy book and a hoe—!’
Celine’s mouth fell open completely. Her jaw had been aching from how wide she had been opening it, but she could no longer stop herself. As the nun sat speechless, her large golden eyes blinking, a sound reached her ears.
—Rustle—.
The sound of someone’s footsteps.