The Wizard Community (4)
A spray of cold, blue sea water burst up over the bow, scattering into white foam.
The froth rose and dissolved into nothing, and almost as if to fill its place, another spray leapt up in its wake.
Vigrind stood at the bow of the ship, leaning out over the railing to peer down at the water below.
She strained her eyes hoping to catch sight of a fish in the deep, but there wasn't so much as a shadow to be seen.
"You should be careful, Saintess."
Startled by the sudden voice, Vigrind turned her head.
Brown hair streamed in the crisp salt breeze.
The Hero, Ludwig, was watching her with a faint smile on his lips.
"What has you so lost in thought?"
Vigrind flushed with embarrassment.
It was rather humiliating, she thought, for the Saintess of the Heavenly God Church to be caught gaping at the sea like a moonstruck child.
"It's only my second time seeing it, but... the sea is so vast, isn't it? Have you ever seen the sea before, Hero?"
It truly was enormous.
Evian hadn't been a large place, but it had been her entire world. Setting eyes on the open ocean for the first time had shattered that little world in an instant and shown her that something far larger lay beyond it.
The Hero, by contrast, seemed utterly unmoved by the sight — as if he had seen it all before.
"No, the last voyage to Carpatia was actually my first time seeing it. Marlene sits far from any coast as well. In fact, leaving Marlene for Evian was the first time I'd ever traveled out of my homeland at all."
"And yet you seem so calm about it."
"Do I?"
It was strange.
So much water, stretching on forever.
A boundless expanse of blue, so deep and wide that the bottom was invisible — how could anyone remain composed seeing it for the first time?
"We're bound to see an even wider world soon enough, aren't we? A world larger than Marlene, larger than Evian, larger than even this sea. If I went gaping in astonishment at every new thing we encountered, I imagine it would look rather silly."
"I suppose it would."
Vigrind fell silent and gazed ahead.
Unfamiliar seabirds wheeled and cried overhead, gathering in loose flocks above the waves.
White-bodied with yellow beaks, they skimmed across the water and plunged their beaks down time and again, coming up with fish wriggling in their grasp.
"Fascinating, aren't they, those birds?"
Ludwig pointed up at them.
At some point he had drifted to her side, resting his arms along the railing as he gestured toward the flock.
"Those birds followed us all the way from the harbor, you know."
"Followed us?"
"Mm."
Vigrind looked up at the birds the Hero had indicated.
Kee-ruk, kee-kee — crying out in their unintelligible voices, the flock wheeled about before settling on the ship's mast to preen their feathers with their beaks.
"They're stowaways, in a manner of speaking. They know that where we go, food is plentiful — and that the top of a mast makes a fine place to roost."
"They understand that we'll feed them and give them a place to rest..."
"Yes. Clever things, wouldn't you say?"
Ludwig grinned.
He had heard it from the sailors working the deck, so it was probably accurate enough.
"Now then, Saintess — look at this."
Ludwig drew a small pouch from inside his coat.
It was a cheap thing of rough cloth, its mouth cinched with a drawstring. He tugged one end of the cord, and it slipped loose with a whisper, the mouth of the pouch falling open.
Inside was a heap of yellow grain.
"It's grain. Just the empty husks left over after everyone picked out anything edible. Now, watch — like this..."
Scooping out a handful of milled chaff, more husk than kernel, Ludwig raised his open palm high.
Some of it scattered on the sea breeze, but the smell of the grain seemed to carry all the further for it; the seabirds came flocking in over his head, crying shrilly.
"There are even more of them now!"
Vigrind called out over the clamor of the birds.
She covered her ears against the racket, yet her expression was hardly displeased.
"Watch closely now!"
Grinning, Ludwig swung back his hand and flung the grain out over the water.
Vigrind let out a startled "Ah—!" — but before the grain could even strike the waves, the seabirds came diving down in a rush, snatching up the kernels and soaring back into the sky.
"Well? Isn't it something? Would you like to try, Saintess? It's quite fun, really."
Vigrind hesitated.
Truthfully, it did look fun. She wanted to try it.
But a small voice inside her protested — wasn't it a little ridiculous for the Saintess of the Heavenly God Church to be absorbed in such a trifling game?
"Anyone would enjoy a bit of fun — it's only human. Surely the Heavenly God can forgive you that much. Come, give me your hand."
Before Vigrind could answer, Ludwig had already caught her hand and drawn it up.
Her pale, slender hand was barely half the size of his.
'M-my hand...?'
It had happened in the confusion of the moment, but it was the first time in her life a man had taken her hand, and Vigrind froze, flustered.
His hand was terribly rough, covered in old scars and calluses — nothing at all like soft or comfortable.
"There — that should be about enough."
Ludwig smiled down at her.
Vigrind, without meaning to, lifted her head and met his gaze.
"Our Saintess really ought to eat a bit more, you know. Your hand is barely half the size of mine."
He had poured the grain into her palm and was now resting his own hand — not palm to palm, but on the back of her hand — as he spoke.
Vigrind didn't hear a single word of it.
"Go on, throw it. Look, the birds are waiting for you. If you keep stalling like that, they'll fly right over here and — whoa?!"
"Kyaa?!"
Vigrind had been standing frozen for ages, the grain heaped in her open palm, too stunned to move.
The seabirds, apparently deciding it was an invitation, came swarming in to peck the grain straight out of her hand.
"Get away, all of you!"
With well over twenty birds descending at once, Vigrind panicked.
Ludwig waved his free hand to shoo them off, but it was hopelessly outnumbered — and in the scramble he pulled Vigrind toward him, and she ended up pressed firmly against his chest.
"I said get away!"
Only after he flung the entire grain pouch out onto the water did the birds' attention finally turn elsewhere.
"Saintess, are you all right?"
"I-I'm fine. I'm quite fine, so... would you please... let go... of me..."
Vigrind stammered the words out.
He had been holding her so tightly that her face was pressed flush against his chest; there was no pulling free by her own strength.
"Oh dear — forgive me. I wasn't thinking straight either."
"No, no, it wasn't your fault at all..."
The moment Ludwig released her, Vigrind scrambled back a few steps.
Her snow-white face had flared a furious red, as though it might burst at any moment.
"Are you certain you're all right? Your face is quite red."
"I-I'm fine. Truly, I'm fine."
"You weren't pecked by the seabirds, were you?"
Saying this, Ludwig stepped briskly toward her.
He was only checking whether she had been hurt somewhere or felt unwell — but Vigrind retreated another step in response.
Ludwig had no sense of distance at all.
"No, really. Truly, I'm perfectly fine. It's nothing at all."
"Are you sure? If anything is troubling you, you need only say the—"
Ludwig leaned in, peering straight into her face.
Given the considerable difference in their heights, he must have had to bend quite far — but Vigrind, startled by his face appearing so suddenly before her eyes, backed away yet another step.
"I'm per— perfectly fine. I'm going to return to my room and rest a while. I hope you rest well too, Hero."
Without waiting for his answer, Vigrind turned on her heel.
Ludwig watched her hurry away, the patter of her footsteps fading into the distance, an unreadable smile playing on his lips.
How improper of him.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Vigrind turned the memory over in her mind.
It would be wrong for the Hero and the Saintess to be distant with one another — but surely growing too close was no better.
...Unless I am careful.
Ludwig was the Hero, yes, but he had come up as an adventurer; his sense of propriety between men and women was bound to be different from hers.
But Vigrind was different.
Had she not been raised from childhood on the discipline of the cloth — on how a priestess must carry herself, above all else, before even the title of Saintess?
I must be careful, Vigrind told herself.
As the Hero's companion, and as the Saintess.
So that no scandal might fall upon me,
I must guard my heart and my conduct, always.
Vigrind thought this.
But the heart, as it happens, does not always follow the mind.
He isn't improper — he's simply honest.
I'm the one who doesn't need to be so careful.
The Hero is only being honest.
Perhaps the only dishonest one here... is me.
Clutching her rosary tight, Vigrind lifted a prayer to the Heavenly God.
Let me be a little more honest.
Let me cast off this darkness in my heart.
She prayed. And prayed again.