The Hero Party's Emergency Meeting
Aisoll, the mage, sat on the corner of the bed with her legs crossed. Beside her stood the saintess, Lucilla, ramrod straight. Facing them, Leona, the hero, occupied the chair.
Debating who held the greatest combat power in the hero party might make for decent idle chatter, but it was ultimately pointless. Each of the four had distinct specialties that complemented one another perfectly. Even asking the members themselves would yield no clear answer—at least, not from the prideful mage. The question of who best represented the hero party was equally futile. Unlike the previous topic, the answer was glaringly obvious. The group's very name was the "Hero Party," after all.
As proof, only the hero herself was formally affiliated with the imperial army, yet her comrades received the same promotions and honors. It wasn't merely a matter of treatment; the hero had always been the party's core, its gravitational center. She cherished her companions, and they cherished her in return—though their feelings varied slightly in intensity. Not quite admiration, perhaps, but their everyday demeanor and gazes carried notes of respect and reverence.
But not now.
When was the last time the hero had seen such looks from her comrades? Leona wondered inwardly. Nothing came to mind, suggesting this was a first. And rightly so—how often does one receive eyes filled with doubt, suspicion, and unease from one's allies? Worry or concern was one thing, but this?
"Um..."
Unable to bear the silence, the hero spoke up. But a pointed cough from the saintess sealed her lips again.
The hero party did hold meetings for decision-making. There were two usual venues. For itinerary planning or strategy sessions, they gathered in the hero's tent, spread with maps—the hero oversaw those, naturally. For everything else, especially discussions of new intelligence, it was the mage's quarters. Aisoll never objected to hosting in her own tent.
The mage's tent. Leona had no particular opinions on magic itself. But the empire was far from friendly toward it. Prejudice against the alien art lingered pervasively. A distance she'd never noticed before now pressed down on her unexpectedly. Who—or what—could possibly oppress the hero? Yet that was Leona's mood at the moment.
"That succubus."
Lucilla's words drew a reflexive response from Leona.
"I-I just checked on her. She's fine. Nothing amiss."
"Lady Hero."
Lucilla always addressed her with honorifics. Her tone was as gentle as ever, but Leona felt a chill.
"I-I'm fine too, aren't I? See? Ha, haha..."
"Hmm."
Lucilla slowly tilted her head. She approached soundlessly and placed a hand on the hero's waist.
"Ngh—ah!"
A groan leaked through Leona's clenched teeth. Her hands, forced to her knees, trembled uncontrollably.
"Fine? You're wincing in pain already."
"D-don't just grab like that."
"Where's the healing that doesn't hurt a little, Lady Hero?"
It could be painless if she tried—after all, she wasn't some run-of-the-mill priestess, but a saintess. Leona chose not to point that out.
"Aisoll, could you move from the bed? Lying down would be better."
Aisoll rose silently. Leona shuffled over and flopped face-down onto the bed, groaning as Lucilla kneaded her back.
Aisoll watched impassively before suddenly asking, "That succubus— she's really okay?"
"Aisoll. The hero comes first—"
"No, no—if Leona's back is wrecked like this, how's the succubus fine?"
It was a valid point. Having observed the hero up close, her comrades knew her resilience well. For such a stalwart warrior to be laid low by back pain meant the succubus who'd endured her should be in ruins.
"Ngh, she was f-fine. No wounds at all, oof!"
"Wounds?"
"What wounds?"
Even the party leader couldn't retract her slip. Face buried in the bed, Leona couldn't see her comrades' faces, but her hero's senses picked up the shift—their gazes upon her grew far colder, heavier.
"I said it was nothing."
"...Y-yeah! Just... nothing."
"Thinking about it, what you did wasn't 'nothing,' was it?"
Leona buried her face deeper into the pillow.
Leona wasn't the only one who read novels now and then—Aisoll did too. Not from shared tastes, but incidental overlap. With bookshelves in the tent and a subspatial library, Aisoll often managed Leona's collection. Still, this wasn't the time—or with the saintess present.
Leona wished she could just sleep.
"Lady Hero?"
A heavenly whisper brushed her ear. Leona turned her head instinctively.
"You know lying is a grave sin in our doctrines, yes?"
Lucilla's face loomed close, her body lowered. Her gentle features smiled with crinkled eyes, but her mouth... wasn't smiling.
Leona wasn't devout, but as an imperial subject, she wasn't entirely free either. And before her stood one of the Church's twin pinnacles, alongside the pope—the saintess. Her words carried weight.
"Tell us slowly what happened last night?"
The holy power massaging her waist felt rougher now, but Leona couldn't ask her to stop.
Lucilla flashed a grin.
"Every last detail. Leave nothing out."
"Hah."
Leona's long explanation ended. Lucilla said nothing. A short sigh came from Aisoll.
Even hearing only "I did it" that morning had been shocking enough. The details? Aisoll's honest reaction:
"You didn't kill that succubus and lie about her being fine, did you...?"
"Absolutely not! Why would I?!"
Her voice boomed, but wriggling under Lucilla's hands on the bed robbed it of dignity.
Aisoll looked down with a blank expression.
"Biting, hitting, choking. She survived that and is fine? Wasn't it dark? You sure?"
Street-thug brutality on a cheap whore is one thing; when the perpetrator's the hero, the scale escalates wildly. Unbelievable that Leona would slaughter a succubus and lie, but equally suspect that the victim emerged unscathed.
"She said she was fine herself! I heard it clear as day!"
"Charmed?"
Lucilla's question. Her holy power gently mended the hero's waist. Leona hesitated.
"Not sure... Didn't feel like the enchanters' tricks. Honestly, it seemed less like charm and more like she just fell for it on her own."
Fighting on the front lines, Leona had seen and suffered myriad assaults. Mental attacks weren't rare. But Lucilla didn't look satisfied.
"So. You shoved your cock in her face, her eyes glazed over, tattoo glowed, drool and juices flowing, and she latched on?"
"Y-yes..."
"And you, pissed at being called a virgin, popped a raging hard-on and fucked her brains out? Like in the books?"
Leona had no retort. Crude words and omissions aside, it wasn't wrong.
"Lady Hero. Your... member is but a divine endowment from Her Grace. Not for such..."
"I know. But."
Aisoll cut in unapologetically. Lucilla didn't scold, just listened. Leona had nothing else to add. Awkward silence fell.
Suddenly, Lucilla seemed to recall something. "One moment. If that succubus not only injured your body but possibly your spirit..."
"Nah. She's clean."
Aisoll, arms crossed, looking pensive.
"If she'd snuck in any demonic energy or messed with your mind during it, I'd have sensed it—or you would have, Leona. You didn't feel anything while healing, right?"
Magic and holy power differed, but the saintess was most sensitive to demonic auras. Lucilla nodded in agreement.
Aisoll's shock had faded, replaced by pure curiosity about the succubus.
Something worth investigating now.
"She's in your tent, right?"
"Yeah. No way she wandered off."
A scoff from Aisoll. "As if the likes of her could. Breri's there anyway. Probably just rolling around helpless. Send her to me tonight."
"Aisoll?"
"Just to check her out. We're stuck with her anyway, right?"
To forestall objections, Aisoll added, "And you think I'm gonna go at her like some brute?"
Lucilla and Leona stared silently. The party's youngest, Aisoll wore an expression fitting her apparent age.
"Just checking her out. That's it."
A bright, sly grin—like a clever child eyeing a fun new toy.