Wheat Beneath Her Bare Feet
More than a year had passed since Simon entered Kizen, and he'd proudly assumed he had already met every strange person he would ever meet in his lifetime.
But the woman who had just declared herself a Saintess was, even among them, extraordinary.
Horrific burns that looked like nothing ordinary fire could have caused. Both eyes sealed shut in an X-shape, stitched closed with thick black thread — and yet the stitches had gone slack, and behind the loose threads her eyes seemed to have opened just a sliver.
"Hnnghh... hah."
Slumped in her seat and making strange sounds, she appeared to be a half-blood, mixed with non-human lineage. Her ears were long, and heavy ornaments dangled from them with a soft clinking.
...So this is the Saintess of the Harvest.
Simon, watching her, was breaking out in a cold sweat.
Something's off about her.
He thought back on the Saintesses he knew. Anna, the Saintess of Miracles. Israfil, the Saintess of the Holy Sea. And Lethe, the Saintess of the Stars.
Compared to any of them, this Saintess's state was absurd beyond belief.
But she's strong.
The artifact seemed to be suppressing her divinity, and even so, an otherworldly power was overflowing from her body.
Kazhan looked strained just standing near her. He kept himself a step behind Simon.
"You're the ones who'll be guidin' me around, right?~"
The tail of her sentence dragged out, lazy and languid.
His shock at meeting a Saintess barely behind him, Simon nodded.
"Yes, that's correct."
That much had already been arranged. Nephthys's agents had planned for Simon and Kazan — current students — to serve as her guides. It would draw less attention that way.
"...Still, this is unexpected."
Kazhan said, absently rubbing at his scar as was his habit.
"I never imagined one of the great Seven Saintesses would come in person."
"That's how seriously our side is takin' this whole affair.~"
Grab. The Saintess's hand closed around a plump, juicy chicken leg sitting on the table.
"If that 'Ever Kire' really has entered Roke Island—"
Chomp!
She tore into the chicken leg like a wild beast. The well-browned skin and white meat split and ripped away in a long strip.
"It's ruin, y'know~ The end of the road would be war between the Federation and the Alliance."
"Does the Holy Federation know of this?"
"As if~ This is an unofficial visit. My own personal trip. I came at Sister Israfil's request."
Simon's eyes gleamed.
So Aunt Israfil was involved after all!
If she — the one who opposed war more fiercely than anyone — had stepped forward, then he could believe it. Kazhan evidently recognized the name too, and nodded.
"We owe the Saintess of the Holy Sea a great debt, then."
"Mm-hmmm~"
Just as she raised the chicken leg for another bite, wheat suddenly began sprouting from its skin. The Saintess of the Harvest scowled and slammed it back down onto the plate with a clack!
"Hate vegetables."
Sweat dripped down Simon's face.
What is wrong with this woman?
Had the Saintess's suppressed authority activated on its own? It wasn't just the food — wheat was steadily growing throughout the cave, here and there. The dark, gloomy cavern was turning almost cheerful.
"You can't do anything about those?"
Kazhan pointed at the wheat scattered across the cave floor. The Saintess of the Harvest fingered the chalk necklace around her throat.
"Take it up with this artifact~ Supposed to seal a Saintess's power. Not doin' a great job, is it."
Simon understood immediately what it was.
That's the necklace Lethe wore.
He remembered the necklace Lethe had worn in the Holy Federation — one that sealed a Saintess's power. It had been the same chalk-necklace design.
Seen again now, it also resembled the necklace Loraine wore to seal her own ability.
"Then let's get down to business."
Kazhan cut to the heart of the matter.
"We'll move through Roke Island together, searching for traces of the fanatic. We'd like you to focus entirely on detection."
The Saintess of the Harvest, it was said, could sense every living person standing on the ground within her radius so long as her bare feet touched the earth.
That range was vast enough to cover all of Roke Island.
"Combat we'd prefer to leave to me, Simon, and the necromancer operatives. If someone of her stature raises her divinity and fights directly, she'll stand out immediately."
"Mm-hmmm~"
She answered in her languid voice and let her arms droop.
"But here's the fundamental question—"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Can you all actually beat Ever Kire?"
Kazhan's eyebrow twitched.
"Of course. Even in the unlikely event we cannot, the moment we confirm her location, backup from Crow-level necromancers will arrive at once."
"She's not the kind of opponent you beat just by havin' numbers or power.~"
The Saintess of the Harvest smiled.
"You need to understand why Sister Israfil sent me."
"......"
"But fine. We'll try it your way first.~"
She rose from her seat.
"Findin' her at all is the question, after all."
Simon, Kazhan, and the Saintess of the Harvest walked outside together.
Her appearance was so conspicuous that they had draped her in a plain brown hooded robe.
Simon walked beside her, half shielding the Saintess from the crowds.
Step. Step.
On the streets, on the carriage roads — everywhere her bare feet touched, wheat blossomed out of season. Simon was run ragged trying to keep it out of sight.
Lethe's stars were always popping off too... is this just what Saintesses are like?
"Haaaah~"
She trudged along, letting out some deflated sigh of a breath as she swayed with every step.
Deciding she was simply an unfathomable person, Simon tried making conversation.
"As Student Council President, allow me to thank you once more, Saintess. I never imagined you'd come all this way to help us."
The Saintess of the Harvest looked at Simon too.
"No need to thank me~ We let one of our monsters slip out 'cause we couldn't manage her. Ours to clean up."
Simon hesitated a moment, then asked casually.
"Um... this Israfil person who sent you — what kind of person is she?"
"Oh, Sister Israfil?"
She tilted her head.
"Necromancers sure are curious about everything, aren't they~"
Simon snapped back to his senses. She was such a bizarre creature that he'd completely forgotten — but by their very doctrine, priests fundamentally rejected the existence of necromancers and regarded them with extreme loathing.
"If I've offended you, I apologize."
"Sister Israfil is—"
The Saintess of the Harvest said abruptly,
"a person who's good through and through."
"......Ah."
"And an idealist at that. Sendin' one of the Seven Saintesses into a hostile nation, no matter how badly she wants to stop the war — that's not an idea that comes easy. It's treason, y'know.~"
Simon swallowed hard, his face stiff. He resolved, absolutely, that this woman could never be allowed near other people — if not for her sake, then for Israfil's, who had gone out on a limb to help them this time.
The conversation lapsed, and they walked on through an awkward silence.
All around them, festival-goers noisily ran about enjoying themselves. From a nearby stadium came an announcer's cries and the roaring cheers of the crowd, cascading over the streets.
"Looks fun.~"
She murmured in a hollow, listless voice.
"Ah — does it? Would you like me to tell you a little about the festival?"
"No need.~"
And silence again.
Sneaking glances at the Saintess of the Harvest, Simon quietly decided to bring up a topic he'd been holding in.
"S-speak of which. The Holy Federation has someone who only just very recently became a Saintess, doesn't it?"
"Oh, the Saintess of the Stars?"
Simon suppressed his delight and merely nodded.
"She's pretty, isn't she~"
The senior Saintess's review was brief.
"Have you ever met her?"
"Nope. She's still a student, isn't she? I've only seen photos.~"
"...I see."
"And I hear about her from Sister Israfil all the time."
The Saintess of the Harvest closed her eyes.
"Says she's the one worthy of succeedin' her."
"......"
As they exchanged bits of talk like this, they arrived at the spot the Saintess of the Harvest had named.
A stretch of sandy beach with the sea spread out before it.
"This'll do.~"
The Saintess of the Harvest could sense every living thing on the ground her feet touched — but pinning down precisely a priest like Ever Kire, one who could hide her divinity and mingle through a crowd, required something more elaborate, she explained.
She would need to weave a formula that let her wield her authority at full strength over a specific area.
"Here I go.~"
She said, stepping onto the sand. The people milling about nearby suddenly began drifting away, one by one.
Simon, watching, widened his eyes.
"What did you do?"
"Changed the mood of the place.~"
She patted her own shoulders with a tap-tap.
"People just start feelin' like they'd rather be anywhere but here."
"...Oh."
"Step back, you two. It could be dangerous for necromancers.~"
Simon and Kazhan withdrew, and the Saintess of the Harvest began her work.
Sssshhhhh—
Her leg carved a circle around her, with her body at the center. Then she lowered herself and began sweeping through the sand, drawing designs inside the ring.
Sssshhhhaaa—
Sssshhh—
She moved with her eyes closed, utterly absorbed — her motions like a dance. Wherever her hands and feet traveled, they left marks in the sand, and little by little a drawing and a formula took shape.
This is...!
A map.
She was drawing a map with her gestures alone. Soon she lifted her fingertips, gathered her divinity, and let it drop onto the spot where the map lay.
Plip.
White divinity spread across the sandy beach like a wave, washing over it. In the eyes held shut by their stitched threads, an unusual light glimmered.
"Found her.~ Divine resonance."
"!"
Simon and Kazhan, who hadn't expected her to find anything on the first try, hurried over. The entire map of the beach had been dyed white — except for one patch, which remained plain sand-colored.
She pointed at the patch that hadn't changed.
"There~ It's my first time on Roke Island, so I couldn't say where that is."
"Near Serute Stadium."
Kazhan, reading the map alone, sprang to his feet.
"It's close. We have to move in and take her ourselves."
"Wait, Kazhan!"
Simon turned back.
"The Saintess—!"
"Don't worry about me and go.~"
The Saintess of the Harvest waved her hand lightly.
"I'd need my divinity to fight, so I can't help you there~ But if things get serious, I'll join in."
"Isn't it too dangerous for you to stay here alone?"
She gave a small snort of a laugh.
"What do you take me for, necromancer?~"
One of only seven Saintesses in the entire world. She was so monstrously strong that the very fact she'd been given an escort was almost laughable.
Since she put it that way, Simon nodded too.
"Still, the area is dangerous — please stay right here, Saintess!"
"Mm-hmmm~"
She nodded back, yawning. Kazhan immediately reported the location by communication crystal and passed along orders to protect the Saintess.
A park near Serute Stadium, crowded with street vendors.
Most people were off watching the matches, so the park wasn't especially busy. Simon and Kazhan moved their heads this way and that, searching for anything suspicious.
Who is it?
A priest was definitely here — but there was no telling exactly who. Simon walked along outwardly composed while his eyes darted wildly behind a calm mask.
Who's the priest? Who?!
A couple whispering sweet nothings on a bench. Two parents chatting warmly with their uniformed daughter. Men buying food from the vendors. Underlings sprinting past, taking reports through their communication crystals.
There was no way to tell.
Do I have to take in every single person here?
Simon bit his lip.
On what grounds? And by what right? If she's not nearby, she'll just hear the commotion and slip away cleanly, won't she. What do I do?
Simon lifted his head.
The matches would be ending soon, and the spectators would come pouring out of the stadium. Once the crowds mingled, finding her would be impossible. Kazhan had already run ahead, checking faces — focusing on the people he himself found suspicious.
But a method like that was too ambiguous.
...Right.
Simon's mind flashed.
He darted into a nearby outdoor restroom.
Fortunately, no one was inside. Simon closed his eyes.
There's nothing I can't do.
Vwoooom!
Divinity bloomed up from his right hand.
I'll draw the fanatic out with a carrot.
Even the most zealous fanatic alive.
No one would ever expect a necromancer to wield divinity.