The Saintess and the Disgruntled Heiress
The room was decorated in an elegant, antique style. Inside that private chamber, two women sat facing each other, engaged in quiet conversation.
Sip.
“So, Onter…”
“It’s the Antonio Church in Enton.”
“Right, Enton. That was the name.”
One of the women was none other than the Saintess of White Silver, Arcelia Lumencia. She normally kept her face perfectly expressionless, yet right now she was offering the person across from her a faint, gentle smile.
They must have been quite close. Whatever the reason, the fact that she was receiving such favor from the Saintess should have left the other party trembling with overwhelming emotion. However—
“It’s not that important, is it?”
“How can you say it’s not important? It is very important.”
The woman opposite her simply answered back as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.
“Lady Valter, you mustn’t speak that way in front of others.”
“Who cares? I’ll say whatever I want.”
She merely shook her head, clearly tired of the scolding. Even a king would never dare show such an attitude before a Saintess—an apostle of the divine.
“So you’re really going there just because of that?”
“I already told you. I’m going to confirm it with my own eyes.”
“Hah, honestly.”
Given her status and her connection to the Saintess, that much could at least be explained.
“You still believe in those old stories?”
The woman speaking face-to-face with Arcelia was the legitimate daughter of the Valter family—the guardians of the continent.
Her full name was Estelle Valter.
Brilliant golden hair that caught the light like polished treasure. Eyes the clear blue of precious gems. A woman whose dignity and beauty surpassed any other noble daughter.
And the one great status she possessed that rendered all of it meaningless: she was a direct descendant of the legendary hero Carius. In fact, this meeting itself had only been possible because of Arcelia’s earnest request.
Yawn.
“I was surprised when you suddenly asked to meet, but it was only to talk about this?”
“When else would we have the chance? You coming down to the capital, me leaving the Holy Kingdom. And it isn’t just idle talk.”
“Whatever. I can always visit the Holy Kingdom later.”
“You haven’t visited even once in the last few years…”
“I was planning to go soon, I told you.”
Arcelia had been on her way to Enton Village when she received word that Estelle was nearby and had stopped by, even adjusting her schedule.
The reason she went out of her way to meet Estelle was simple.
Because Estelle was the only one. The only person who treated Arcelia not as the Saintess, but as an ordinary woman… as a person.
It was surely thanks to a status that could rival even the Saintess herself. Her personality, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.
Even so, Estelle’s face was filled with unmistakable discontent.
“The Bell of Catastrophe? What nonsense.”
“…You really shouldn’t speak like that.”
She truly was full of complaints. When Arcelia had sent a sincere message saying she wanted to meet, Estelle had wondered if something serious had happened, but…
She just wanted to see me? Does she really have no friends back in the Holy Kingdom?
All they had talked about was trivial, everyday chatter.
And then she brings up the Bell of Catastrophe?
The other topic she had raised was even more absurd.
She still believes in that?
Southern Anton… or whatever it was called.
Anyway, she had said she was heading to a church in a village of that name because the Bell of Catastrophe had rung there. She wanted to see it with her own eyes.
“It probably just broke. Why overthink it?”
She really was an impossibly stubborn woman. How had she not changed at all since the first time they met?
“You never know. If it really is just broken, there might be something I can fix.”
“And what would you even do with it after fixing it?”
“Lady Valter…”
Even the current conversation felt ridiculous to Estelle. The ‘Bell of Catastrophe’ Arcelia spoke of had literally been created to detect the Great Catastrophe.
And its origins provided more than enough reason for why Estelle hated that bell.
“Fine, good. While we’re at it, should I just destroy the whole thing? Seems like no one but the two of us can even touch it anyway.”
“…Pardon?”
“If I get permission, Father probably won’t say anything.”
“W-what are you even saying?”
“Am I wrong? There’s maybe one other person. But even he wouldn’t care.”
Estelle had a clear reason for hating the Bell of Catastrophe—and by extension, the very existence of the Great Catastrophe.
It was the single cause that had trapped nearly her entire past life and nearly her entire future life in the damned North.
All because of that thing called the Great Catastrophe. That cursed existence whose very presence was uncertain.
There’s no way it exists.
Of course, Estelle firmly believed it did not. Her father, the current Duke of Valter, never said much, but he clearly didn’t believe in it either.
The descendants of the hero who had saved the continent. The only reason they were bound to that barren, useless land in the North was one thing.
The person who had founded the Valter family and created its current prestige and glory.
The single will left by hero Carius on his deathbed.
Someday, the Great Catastrophe will awaken in the North. Guard the North until that day comes.
That was the only thing. He had left no other words, made no other demands of his descendants.
Just that one command to guard the North. Because of that single sentence, the Valter family had remained rooted in the North for a thousand years.
Of course, the fact that Estelle referred to her ancestor’s dying wish as ‘that’ already showed she was no ordinary woman…
“I’m so sick of the Great Catastrophe.”
“……”
“The fact that people still believe in those stories, and the fact that we’re trapped in the North because of that ridiculous lie—everything about it.”
“L-Lady Valter.”
Even though Estelle was openly insulting her own family, the one fidgeting uncomfortably was Arcelia, sitting across from her.
“Be honest. You don’t believe it either, do you? You just used it as an excuse to run away, right?”
“…It’s not exactly like that.”
“Sigh. I’m not saying I don’t understand. That… what was his name again?”
“Are you referring to Grand Inquisitor Robelon?”
“Yes, that’s the one. When he visited before, he nagged me nonstop.”
“……”
Listening to her, Arcelia felt her stomach twist. Estelle was supposed to be bold, cheerful, and refreshingly straightforward.
Why did she turn so bitterly negative the moment the Great Catastrophe or the hero was mentioned? Even though the stories involved her own ancestor.
I heard the current Duke Valter never showed this kind of attitude when he was young.
She had no idea why Estelle had come to think this way.
“Honestly, it’s true. No one has ever seen it—that thing called the Great Catastrophe.”
Estelle continued throwing out words at Arcelia, as if testing her faith.
“A thousand years. A whole thousand years.”
“……”
“Enough time for mountains to erode and rivers to change their courses completely.”
“Even so…”
“In all that time, not a single person has seen so much as a fingertip of that Great Catastrophe. Isn’t it stranger that people still believe in it?”
Tsk.
Before she realized it, Estelle had started arguing. Arcelia hadn’t done anything wrong.
But it can’t be helped.
Even so, Estelle felt no regret for saying those things. She could yield on everything else, but not this. Not because of that damned thing called the Great Catastrophe, whose very identity wasn’t even clear.
“Hing…”
“……”
Arcelia drooped her shoulders dejectedly, but Estelle paid her no mind.
She only wore an even more sullen expression.
Yes. Truly.
If the Bell of Catastrophe had truly rung normally, and if that thing called the Great Catastrophe actually existed…
There was one thing she wanted to ask it to its face.
You damned bastard.
What exactly have you been doing all this time?
Achoo!
Is someone talking about me?
Juhan’s nose suddenly itched.
He casually wiped it with the back of his hand, entertaining that trivial thought.
Well, it wouldn’t be strange if someone was cursing me.
He had never intended to harm the world, nor had he done so, but since he was the Great Catastrophe, it was entirely possible that someone out there was badmouthing him. Maybe a child reading a fairy tale had called him scary names.
Of course, Juhan didn’t particularly care. After all, it seemed like hardly anyone believed those old stories anymore.
So there he was, stopping by the adventurer’s guild as usual and chatting idly with the receptionist.
“Ugh, that cough came out of nowhere…”
This had somehow become part of his daily routine. Wake up, eat soup and bread for breakfast, then head to the adventurer’s guild around lunchtime to gather information.
“Mr. Juhan! Did you catch a cold?”
“No, it’s just… seems like someone might be talking about me.”
“Oh come on, cursing? Who would ever curse you, Mr. Juhan…”
The receptionist—Jennifer, if he remembered correctly—suddenly stopped mid-sentence, as if something had occurred to her.
She was probably picturing the face of Hannibal, the man now known as the bed-wetter.
Doesn’t look like anything special is happening today.
The surroundings were the same as always. Everyone was moving busily, but that was simply how adventurers were.
And that wasn’t a bad thing. This was exactly the peace Juhan had longed for—a lazy, tranquil daily life.
If things could just stay like this…
It was so peaceful that he naturally found himself hoping he could simply live this way forever.
A day where no one came crawling after him madly, no one fired arrows at him, no one swung swords at him.
Bang!
“……”
But Juhan’s wish did not last long.
“Everyone freeze.”
“……”
Knights in pure white full-plate armor suddenly burst through the adventurer’s guild doors.
“We will now begin a simple inspection.”
They had come to the adventurer’s guild and abruptly announced they would be conducting an inspection.
“What the hell? What’s going on?”
“What kind of sudden inspection is this? Are we criminals now?”
There was considerable backlash from the crowd, but the knights seemed unconcerned. They acted as though they were simply carrying out their orders.
“This matter has already been discussed with Baron Enton, the lord of this city. We ask that everyone cooperate without resistance.”
As they spoke, a sacred emblem shone brightly on their chests.
A very famous symbol. One that Juhan knew well.
…It shouldn’t be a big problem, right?
It was the emblem of the Bistro Order.