The North Continent (3)
Lying on the bed in the swaying cabin, Vigrind's face had gone a shade of green.
She had been born in Evian, and Evian had been the whole of her world.
Stepping out of that place for the first time—only to find herself aboard a colossal ship like this one—Vigrind was paying for it now, suffering through a full-blown case of seasickness.
Every time she managed to keep a meal down, she had to rush to verify it stayed down, which was an ordeal in itself. Though it was never her intention, the moment she finished eating she would end up sprinting to the railing and spilling everything into that vast blue sea, and it was pure misery.
"Are you all right, Saintess?"
"...I'm fine."
Being unable to eat properly was torment enough, but on top of that, the dizziness and headaches were no small matter either.
And yet having to hide all of it was its own kind of suffering.
She was the Saint, after all.
There remained the formal procedure of traveling to Infrar to receive her official ordination, but the Heavenly God had descended in person to appoint Vigrind as Saint—the legitimacy of it was beyond question.
The ordination itself was little more than a ceremonial formality; in every way that mattered, she was already the Saint.
She accepted the cup of water a maidservant offered.
The porcelain cup held a faint warmth—lukewarm water, then.
She had vomited so many times that her throat burned, and as the tepid water slid down, she finally felt something like relief.
"If you feel unwell in the slightest, please call for us at any time, Saintess."
"Yes. I will. You may go."
Vigrind waved her hand, dismissing the maids.
After watching them bow their heads silently and withdraw with backward steps, she sipped the water in tiny, careful swallows.
They would have to stay aboard this ship for nearly two weeks.
She had heard of seasickness before, of course, but she had never thought much of it.
Experiencing it firsthand, however, was another matter entirely.
"Hoo..."
Swallowing the last of the warm water, Vigrind let out a long sigh.
Two weeks. Two weeks... two days had already passed, which meant more than ten days still stretched ahead of her on this ship. The thought worried her.
The well-meaning said that after four or five days the body grows accustomed to the rocking and it dies down—but that was easy talk for other people. For Vigrind, the one actually living it, it was not so simple.
"This is driving me insane, honestly."
The rough speech she worked so hard to hide kept threatening to slip out.
"Shit—"
And right then, a knock cut her off.
- Knock, knock.
"...Who is it?"
- It is Ludwig.
The Hero. Ludwig.
At that voice, Vigrind's brow furrowed of its own accord.
Frankly, this was not a welcome visit.
But it wouldn't do for the Hero and the Saint to be cold with each other—and yet, growing too close would hardly be a good thing either.
...As long as I stay careful, it should be fine.
"Come in."
The wooden door swung open with a soft sound.
The shadow of a man taller than the door itself stretched long into the room.
"Forgive the intrusion, Saintess."
He still wore that easy, breezy smile.
The Hero, Ludwig.
Vigrind rose from the bed where she had been sitting, wrapped her shawl about her shoulders, and went to receive him.
"If it is the Hero coming to call, there is no intrusion to forgive. Please, have a seat."
After watching Ludwig sit, Vigrind tapped the heat stone nestled in its small dish—tap, tap.
She set the tea kettle atop the heat stone's coil, which soon began to glow red, and with a faint hiss, the water began to boil.
"I'm afraid tea is all I have to offer. Will that do?"
"Ah, yes. Anything at all. I'll drink it gladly, Saintess."
Still ever the dutiful one with his answers.
Standing with her back to him, Vigrind scattered a few sprigs of tea leaves into the cup.
Pour hot water over them, and the leaves would unfurl, the tea would steep.
She lifted the freshly boiling kettle and filled the cup. Steam curled upward, and she carried it over and set it before Ludwig.
"Please, drink."
"Why, thank you. And you, Saintess? Will you not have any?"
"My stomach is a little unsettled."
Water was about all she could manage. If she drank tea like this, it would come right back up.
Their relationship was awkward enough as it was—this was hardly a side of herself she could bear to show him.
"I heard your seasickness is quite severe."
"Yes. It's embarrassing to admit."
There was nothing to lie about, and Ludwig had clearly known before coming to her door, so Vigrind nodded honestly. She might have added that sitting across from him right now was also rather uncomfortable, but that would never do.
"You seem perfectly fine yourself, Hero."
"Yes, well, I'm just me."
"Have you sailed before, then?"
"No, this is my first time as well. First time, yes—but I am an adventurer by origin, after all. So I adapt to environments like this rather quickly. And once you reach Gold Rank, surroundings like these hardly affect you at all."
"I see."
How very impressive for you.
Vigrind sneered inwardly.
"But leaving me aside, I thought the Saintess must be having a difficult time of it. That's why I came—making it a sick visit as well."
"How thoughtful of you. Thank you."
Then how about leaving a little sooner?
It was true that things shouldn't be this strained between the Hero and the Saint, but he was hardly someone she could regard with unreserved goodwill.
Even before she became Saint, this was the Hero who had reached for Yona first, ahead of Vigrind herself.
Back during the assault on the Catacombs, he had insisted a Saint must stand at the Hero's side—and then pulled Yona along instead of her.
And that was not all.
Even after the appointment, it had continued.
With her—the unmistakable Saint—standing right there, Ludwig's habit of prioritizing Yona gave Vigrind no reason to feel warmly toward him.
And then, attempting to recruit Yona into the Hero's party, no less.
He hadn't even consulted her before making that decision, and that stung more than anything.
Because of it, even now, silence hung between them unless Ludwig spoke first.
Vigrind had nothing else to say, and Ludwig, apparently out of topics, simply sat in quiet stillness.
"...Hero."
"Yes, Saintess."
"When you received your appointment as Hero from the Heavenly God—did the Heavenly God actually descend to you?"
"Hmm—descended, you say..."
Ludwig recalled that moment.
While he was single-handedly clearing the eastern fortress of the Four Cardinal Ruins in Marlene, a radiance had suddenly poured down before him.
And then came a voice—a clear, ringing woman's voice.
She had never revealed herself, but as far as Ludwig was concerned, it had been beyond any doubt a true descent.
He had never questioned it for an instant.
"Yes. It was. The voice telling me to stand against the coming calamity such as the world had never seen—it was unquestionably the Heavenly God."
"I see."
"...Do you, perhaps, have ill feelings toward me, Saintess?"
At that, Vigrind fell silent.
It didn't seem like the kind of thing one could simply talk around.
Is this really something to say so bluntly to my face—?
"My... feelings, you say."
She closed her mouth. Not so much struck speechless as needing time to sort through her head—to figure out what on earth she ought to say.
"One moment, please."
Asking Ludwig's leave, Vigrind rose from her seat.
Only a little while had passed since she'd boiled the water, and steam still seeped gently from the kettle. She tipped it out into the cup, then returned to her seat.
"What feelings could there need be between a Hero and a Saint? I would not presume to speak carelessly of the divine—but we are humans, not gods, and humans carry feelings of our own. So if I must lean on those feelings to answer you..."
Vigrind closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Raising the cup, she took a sip of the warm water, then drew in the smallest of breaths.
"Yes. I do not feel kindly toward you, Hero."
"Why is that?"
Even hearing her say she disliked him to his face, Ludwig's faint smile never wavered.
Something about that smile irritated her, made her want to torment him somehow.
"Because even with me, the Saint who should stand closest at your side, you have a way of putting others first, don't you?"
"You mean Yona."
Vigrind's brow creased slightly.
How can anyone be so incapable of talking around a subject?
Was this simply his style—straight to the point, all business, nothing else?
It's not as though I enjoy beating around the bush either.
Vigrind took another sip of the warm water.
"...Yes. That's right."
"I see. If that is how I made you feel, then the fault is mine. I was aiming for the most effective composition for the party's efficiency—but I suppose my explanation fell short."
Ludwig sounded genuinely sincere.
Vigrind had felt rather embarrassed at herself after saying it—her petty grievance seemed so much like a small child's complaint—but now that he was apologizing so earnestly, she felt strange all over again.
"I will be mindful from now on. As a member of my party, and as the one who must stand closest to me, I will not forget that the Saintess is you, Vigrind. Please forgive my foolishness."
"Th-that's really not necessary to say."
It was a bit much, him suddenly trying to close the distance like this.
"From now on, I shall devote my full attention to you, Saintess. Please, let go of your anger."
Truthfully, she wasn't even angry.
But Vigrind said nothing of it, only nodded slowly and drank her warm water.