Banquet Time (3)
“Kyuu! Kyu! Kyu!”
The one-horned rabbit thrashing in Lowen’s grip was desperately fighting for its life.
It looked adorable enough, but the creature was dangerous.
The one-horned rabbit that had been causing trouble in the village was no ordinary white specimen that an average adult man could easily catch. This was a black one-horned rabbit—foul-tempered and given to ramming people without the slightest provocation.
A direct hit from its headbutt would break bones as a matter of course; a stab from the horn could leave a fatal wound.
“Haa…”
Lowen let out a rough breath.
He was drenched in sweat from racing all over the place with the village men in pursuit of the rabbit.
Yet the reason Lowen was sweating and exhausted had nothing to do with the fleet-footed one-horned rabbit itself.
Acting is hard work too…
No matter how dangerous and difficult a black one-horned rabbit might be for ordinary people, for someone of Lowen’s caliber it was as easy as crushing an ant underfoot. The only reason he was panting and putting on a show of fatigue was that he had to pretend he couldn’t catch something he could have finished in an instant.
If a priest known only for praying in church casually snagged a monster that had the village guard floundering, people might start asking awkward questions.
So he had deliberately fallen, rolled around, and even taken a few headbutts—careful only that none of them were truly serious.
“Haha, Bishop, you’re a lot more of a klutz than I expected!”
One of the guards strode over with a hearty laugh.
“Didn’t you say you used to be a knight?”
Lowen’s brow twitched for a fraction of a second.
“…Did I ever mention that I used to be a knight?”
He had never told a single soul in the village what he had done in the past.
There was one boy who knew Lowen was considerably skilled—though not the precise details of his former work—but that boy was not the type to go blabbing about it everywhere.
“I heard it from someone else. You know… the coachman who drove the cart when you first came to this area, Bishop. He said he dropped a priest off at Wind-bird Forest, and that the man had spent a short time as a knight.”
Ugh. Loose lips.
“Yes, it was only a very brief period. As a boy I was full of admiration for knights and joined an order, but it turned out I simply wasn’t suited for it.”
The guard who had watched Lowen tumble about earlier nodded as if that explained everything.
“Every man dreams of becoming a knight at some point—that’s only natural. I wanted to be an Imperial knight myself, but I lacked the talent, so I settled for being a guard.”
After a short exchange of small talk, Lowen prepared to return to the cathedral.
“I’ll deal with the one-horned rabbit at the cathedral, so I’ll be heading back now.”
“We’re truly grateful for your help today.”
“Of course. Call on me again if you need anything.”
He was just about to leave the village when the guard called after him.
“Bishop!”
Lowen turned.
“You’re bleeding from your arm…”
Lowen looked down.
In its frantic struggle to escape, the one-horned rabbit had raked its claws across his forearm.
“Come to the guardhouse. We’ll treat it for you.”
Lowen politely declined.
“It’s late, and I need to hurry back. I appreciate the thought.”
“Even so…”
“Besides, a wound this minor can be healed with divine power.”
“Ah, of course. You’re a priest, after all.”
For a bishop, healing a wound with divine power was the most basic of basics.
I said that, but…
Lowen held the rank of bishop in name only; he possessed no divine power whatsoever, and thus could not heal even a small cut.
“Kyu! Kyu! Kyu!”
Once they left the village and headed toward Wind-bird Forest, the one-horned rabbit that had been hanging limp with exhaustion suddenly began thrashing again.
“Be still.”
Lowen flicked the tip of the rabbit’s nose with a finger.
“Kyuuut!”
“If you want to live and go back to the forest, stay quiet.”
“Kyukyu!”
As if telling him to go to hell, the one-horned rabbit raked its sharp claws wildly across Lowen’s forearm.
“I hear one-horned rabbit horns are good for the body.”
“Kyuu?”
The rabbit that had been huffing and clawing away froze mid-motion.
Apparently it understood human speech after all.
“Stop fighting and come along quietly. Understood?”
When Lowen gripped the horn with his free hand, the one-horned rabbit nodded.
The moment he was about to enter Wind-bird Forest, Lowen sensed a presence and slipped behind a tree.
“Kyuu?”
He clamped a hand over the mouth of the one-horned rabbit that was tilting its head in confusion and carefully peered into the darkened woods.
A black silhouette stood like a totem pole.
It was motionless, staring only toward the forest entrance as if waiting for someone.
A person at this hour…
Not a bandit looking to rob passersby.
What kind of bandit would be stupid enough to stand out in the open waiting for someone to walk by?
Nor was it someone lost in the forest.
Who would wander around when the way out of the woods was right in front of them?
And the simple fact that the figure was standing still already proved it was not lost.
Who is it?
He leaned out again to examine the silhouette.
“Damn…!”
It was gone.
—Rustle
The underbrush shook, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps racing straight toward him.
Whoever it was, they were no ordinary opponent.
Lowen had completely concealed his presence, yet the other party had detected him and was coming this way—proof of considerable skill at the very least.
Further speculation was pointless; Lowen immediately prepared to counterattack.
A figure burst from the bushes.
Moonlight flashed on a blade.
Lowen twisted his body and dodged the thrust aimed at the crown of his head.
“Kh…!”
He thought he had dodged cleanly, yet the edge grazed his cheek and snipped a few strands of hair.
Fast…
But he used the opening created by the thrust itself, seized the attacker by the collar, and slammed him to the ground. Then he gripped the one-horned rabbit’s horn like an awl and aimed it at the assailant’s throat.
“Kyuuuuu?!”
Mixed with the rabbit’s shriek came a man’s frantic voice.
“I yield! I yield! Lowen-ssi, please calm down!”
An instant before the horn could pierce the back of the skull, Lowen halted the attack and checked the face of the man shouting surrender.
“Hm?”
A handsome young man with blond hair and red eyes.
“Edil?”
Still holding both hands up in surrender, Edil let out a sigh of relief and gave an awkward smile.
“Haha… I’m glad you remember me!”
Holy Knight Edil Clohart.
Back when Lowen had served as escort knight to the Second Saintess, he had briefly taught the young man the sword.
“What are you doing here?”
“Could you put that sharp thing away first?”
“Kyu! Kyuu! Kyu!”
Lowen released the one-horned rabbit’s horn.
“Kyuuuuu…!”
The rabbit fled into the forest, wailing.
“I thought I might finally land one on you this time, Lowen-ssi. You’re still strong as ever.”
Edil brushed the dirt from his clothes, rose, and offered a belated greeting.
“It’s been a long time. I am Edil Clohart, Left Holy Knight of the Second Saintess.”
Lowen gave a small, impressed murmur.
The last time they had met, the boy had been a mere rank-and-file Holy Knight; in the intervening years he had risen to vice-commander.
“Were the Holy Knights that short on talent?”
“That’s going too far. I earned the vice-commander post fairly through the skill I gained under your instruction, Lowen-ssi.”
His ability had indeed improved.
In their final sparring match, Edil’s blade had never even grazed Lowen.
Even allowing for the element of surprise, the fact that it had brushed Lowen’s cheek was proof of remarkable growth.
“So why are you here?”
“I came out to meet you, Lowen-ssi.”
“Meet me?”
“When I went to the cathedral they said you’d gone to the village.”
Lowen thought for a moment.
The people from the Holy See were supposed to arrive tomorrow, not today.
They could come a day early as they had last time, but the man standing in front of him was a Holy Knight, not a Cardinal.
He had been told a Cardinal would be coming.
“Did you come as Lord Demian’s escort?”
“No.”
Edil shook his head, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“I came as the escort of the Second Saintess.”
While Lowen was racing around the village chasing the one-horned rabbit—
“Haung… uu… heuut…♡”
—Ariel, left to guard the cathedral, had locked herself inside the confessional and was wholly absorbed in fingering her pussy.
—Squish! Squish! Squish! Squish!
The interior of the confessional was thick with a sticky, musky scent.
Between Ariel’s spread thighs, cunt juices turned milky-white from the friction of her fingers were dripping steadily down.
“Sssss… haaah… Bishop Lowen’s cock smell… so good……♡”
The pair of Lowen’s underwear she was using as a side dish was already soaked through with her drool.
The erotic novel she was reading had reached its middle-to-late stages, where a completely fallen Saintess was begging her master for pleasure and performing a mating dance.
The Saintess stood in a half-crouch with her ass thrust out, plunging her fingers into both her front and rear holes while lewdly swaying her hips. The sight was so vulgar it made a common brothel whore look refined by comparison. Paying that no mind, the Saintess squealed “Oink oink♥” and performed a mating hip-dance in order to receive her master’s cock.
Ariel’s own state was no better.
She reeked of such thick, filthy lust that anyone seeing her would have thought, This is a Saintess?
She had sucked her right nipple so hard it was swollen and shiny with spit; saliva that had spilled from her mouth ran down the valley of her breasts all the way to her navel.
The mere fact that Lowen was away from the cathedral had turned Ariel into a beast in heat, chasing pleasure and craving climax.
“Hnguuuung…! Ahhk… hnn…!”
Drawing a soft curve with her waist, Ariel came yet again.
She had long since lost count of how many orgasms this made.
The only thought left in her head was the simple, pure notion that it feels good.
The stigma on Ariel’s lower abdomen glowed a faint pink, like the sex-mark of a succubus.
—Trickle
A thin stream of fluid spilled from between her twitching petals and soiled the confessional floor.
“Hau… haa… hik… hik…”
Panting hard, Ariel lazily stroked her sex.
Her long hair was plastered to her skin with sweat.
Her shirt was no better.
Through the white fabric soaked translucent by sweat, Ariel’s pale skin showed clearly.
“J-just one more time… one last time…”
The hand that had been caressing her soft folds parted the labia and pushed a finger into the hole that was already dripping cunt juice. She was so thoroughly loosened that the finger slid in with a smooth, wet sound.
For the record, no matter how violently she thrust, her hymen would not tear.
Ariel’s virgin membrane was remarkably tough and resilient, and she had further protected it with a defensive spell. The limitation was that she could fit only a single finger into the narrow hole—but that was still preferable to rupturing the membrane.
Even with the protective magic, two fingers would be a close call, and anything more would tear it. Needless to say, if something the size of Lowen’s forearm-thick cock ever forced its way in, the damage would be beyond recovery.
Her master’s cock spread the Saintess’s private parts wide and drove deep inside. The moment the glans kissed her womb entrance, the Saintess climaxed with a cry of “Hogok!” By now mere insertion was enough to make her worthless pussy cum. Religion no longer mattered. The only god the Saintess needed to serve was her master’s cock.
Ariel poured every scrap of her concentration into the world inside the book, working her middle finger in and out of her pussy with wet, squelching sounds.
She never even noticed that someone had entered the cathedral…
The Saintess smiled seductively and spoke.
“Haung… L-Lowen Bishop… ung… please plant your seed inside meee…♡”
Fantasizing about being ravished by Lowen, Ariel read the line from the book aloud.
And in that very instant—
—Bang!
The confessional door was flung open with force.
“Peep?!”
With no warning whatsoever the door flew open, and Ariel let out a startled chick-like squeak, jumping in shock.
“……”
Standing before the confessional was a golden-haired beauty clad in pure-white nun’s robes.
“Uh… uhh… uuh…”
Ariel could only open and close her mouth as she looked up at the woman.
A murderous chill flowed through the woman’s blue eyes.