Uninvited Guest (4)

Woodrow, chief of Baram-shimteo Village, could only feel bewildered by the situation unfolding before him.

"Thank you for allowing us into the village."

A smile so sacred it nearly dazzled the eyes. Warm sunlight seemed to melt through the cold air, as though a blessing itself had descended. A Saintess sat across from him.

It was truly absurd.

A Saintess spent half her life within a grand cathedral. Even when she left, it was only to the cathedral's immediate surroundings, for important ceremonies, or for the gatherings of the Seven Saintesses. On rare occasions she might tour various cities for inspection, but such visits happened maybe once a decade — and even then, they were reserved for renowned metropolises, never a tiny rural village like this.

Woodrow had run through several possibilities for why a Saintess would come here. Roughly five came to mind. Of those, one stood out as the most likely.

It had to be related to that past incident.

The event that had drained the village of its vitality. The event that had betrayed the faith of every single resident. More than ten years had passed — but had the Holy See finally come to offer an apology?

Holding that possibility in mind, Woodrow opened his mouth.

"Saintess, what business brings you to a humble place like this?"

Woodrow waited for Ariel's answer. The lips that had held a gentle smile slowly parted.

"We've come to do some shopping at the market."

Her reply left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the tense Woodrow utterly dumbfounded.

"We need to buy ingredients, and a few things for daily living as well."

Faced with a purpose so ordinary, Woodrow could only blink. He had been thinking seriously — weighing whether he should accept an apology if the Saintess offered one in person for the past. He had been getting ahead of himself, fretting alone over a scenario that hadn't even happened.

"We will be staying for some time at the cathedral in Baram-sae Forest," Lowen said from behind Ariel, each word measured and courteous. "We expect we may impose on the village from time to time. We would be grateful for your kindness."

Woodrow recalled something a coachman who had stayed in the village recently had mentioned — that he had dropped off a clergyman at Baram-sae Forest. Since the Holy See occasionally sent priests to inspect the cathedral, he had dismissed it without much thought.

"The Saintess as well?"

"Yes," Ariel answered. "Only for a year, but I'll be staying at the cathedral in Baram-sae Forest."

Woodrow let out a troubled, hollow laugh. Had it been an ordinary priest standing behind her, he would have driven them out by every means available, just as he had done before. But no matter how deeply he distrusted and resented the Holy See, he lacked the courage to raise an angry voice and order a Saintess out of the forest.

"Um… may I ask something that's been on my mind?"

Seeing the difficulty on his face, Ariel judged the moment right for a question and raised her hand like a student addressing a teacher.

"If it's not too forward… could you tell me what happened in this village?"

The wariness she had felt from the village entrance. The sharp stares reserved for unwelcome guests. Faces hardening into stone.

"You know nothing of what took place here?"

An edge entered Woodrow's voice.

"I'm sorry for my ignorance. But I can sense that something unfortunate enough to crack the faith of this village once occurred here. Please forgive my lack of knowledge, and I would be grateful if you would tell me what happened."

Looking into Ariel's earnest eyes, filled with quiet resolve, Woodrow fell silent for a moment. Then he nodded and began to speak.

"It was ten years ago. The year a new bishop was appointed to Baram-sae Forest."

That bishop had been a truly kind man, cheerful and quick with a joke. Whenever he had free hands he helped with village work, offering warmth and goodwill, and when invited to a meal he brightened the table with entertaining stories. In no time he had melted into the community and become someone beloved by all.

But the underside of that kindness was as foul as sticky filth.

The careful way he took each person's hand and prayed over them with such devotion had, in truth, been the act of placing a curse upon every villager. He revealed his true nature only after the curse had been set on them all.

The Curse of Weakening.

A curse that, over time, drained a person physically and mentally until they were utterly broken. The bishop explained the curse to the villagers and told them that if they wanted to live, they would obey him.

At first, no one believed him. But after he made an example of five villagers — withering them to death with the curse — the gravity of the situation became impossible to deny. With no other choice, the villagers submitted and did as he ordered simply to stay alive.

He worked them like slaves. He took more than half their income, and if anyone displeased him he branded them a heretic and had them executed. If the villagers showed even a hint of defiance, he accelerated the curse.

They had tried to alert the Holy See, but the mercenaries he had hired watched the village inside and out, making it impossible.

Then one day, an opportunity arrived. A priest sent by the Holy See came to the cathedral. A brave young man of the village stepped forward and seized that chance — he told the priest everything about the bishop's crimes.

"But that priest was in on it too."

The young man who had reported the bishop's evil was beheaded by a mercenary's blade, and the village sank into even deeper despair.

"Not long after, though, we were set free. On his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way back from a bishops' council, his carriage went over a cliff."

Lowen, who had been listening quietly, seemed to recall something all at once.

"Was that bishop's name Verdun, by any chance?"

Woodrow frowned and nodded.

"How do you know that?"

"I remember reading about it in the newspaper. An article about a carriage that had fallen off a cliff — and that he had been aboard."

The incident had indeed made the papers, but Lowen remembered it for an entirely different reason. Bishop Verdun had been a black magician notorious in the underworld, a man who used curses to blackmail and murder people. And during Lowen's days as a knight, he had been a target commissioned to Lowen by the magical underworld. The so-called carriage accident had, in truth, been an assassination planned by Lowen himself.

For the record, Lowen remembered every target he had ever taken — no matter how long ago.

"Anyway… after he died, we reported everything that had happened in the village to the Holy See. But they refused to believe us, saying we were slandering and defiling a dead man. I suspect the priest who had been in league with him had a hand in that."

For a time afterward, Baram-shimteo Village was persecuted as a village of heretics. That experience left a wound in the villagers' trust toward the Holy See, and they went so far as to ban all clergy from entering the village. Several new bishops were appointed to the cathedral in Baram-sae Forest over the years, but each time the village rose up and drove them out. They knew it only made the situation worse, but the anger would not easily die down.

Ten years had passed, yet that rage still smoldered deep within the hearts of the villagers, burning quietly on.

"I'm sorry."

Having heard the story, Ariel bowed her head deeply.

"I don't expect a single word to ease your hearts. But on behalf of the Holy See, I offer my apology."

A Saintess was bowing her head.

"And though this is all I can do for you…"

Ariel brought her hands together and closed her eyes.

As Ariel prayed, golden light began to ripple across Woodrow's body.

"Th-this…"

His heart grew calm. The oppressive weight that had sat like a knot in his chest lifted, leaving him clear and light. His heart burned warm, and the long-held pain that had wrapped his entire body melted away. The deep-rooted anger seeped into his tear ducts and spilled down his cheeks.

The light faded.

"Treating the aftereffects of the curse and offering a prayer of blessing is all I can do."

Ariel took Woodrow's hands in hers.

"I will take the pain of the past into myself. I will receive all the anger of the present. So please — look toward the hope of the future."

Woodrow was deeply moved. A small spark kindled in the faith that had long gone cold. He pressed his forehead to Ariel's small hands.

"Thank you, Saintess. Truly, thank you."

"No. As one who loves people, it is only what I ought to do."

Ariel rose from her seat.

"I would like to meet the villagers one by one. Would you help me?"

"Of course!"

Woodrow ran outside to gather the people. A bright vitality, long absent, was returning to his face. Word that spring had come to a village as cold as winter spread in an instant.

A half-moon rose in the indigo sky.

Ariel treated the aftereffects of the curse and offered a prayer of blessing to every villager Woodrow had gathered. At first the atmosphere had been wary even of a Saintess, but now everyone clustered around her, laughing and chattering noisily.

"Saintess, please try this as well!"

"Thanks to you, Saintess, both my body and heart feel completely well!"

"Saintess, I made this bracelet myself — please take it!"

The expressions of gratitude went on and on.

"L-Lowen, Bishop…"

Receiving thanks was lovely, but being surrounded by so many people was mentally exhausting. Ariel shot a pleading look toward Lowen, who stood at a distance sipping his drink.

"If you'll excuse us for a moment."

Lowen pushed through the gathered crowd and extracted Ariel.

"The Saintess is tired, so we will take our leave for today."

Just as he took her hand and made to leave, Woodrow spoke.

"Do you intend to return to the cathedral?"

"Yes, we should."

"It's late. It will be dark soon — I would ask that you stay in the village tonight."

Lowen studied Ariel. A smile still lingered at her lips, but cold sweat beaded on her forehead and her breathing was rough. She was exhausted from overusing her divine power. Had he been alone he would have gone back, but looking at her condition, staying in the village tonight was the wiser choice. They still needed to buy the ingredients they hadn't managed to purchase today, besides.

Lowen accepted Woodrow's hospitality, and a place to spend the night was prepared at once.

"Please rest well."

Woodrow bowed and withdrew.

"Just a moment!"

Lowen called after him as he turned to leave.

"Why is there only one room?"

The room Woodrow had prepared was one in the chief's own house.

"There are several rooms at the inn, but they are far too shabby for a Saintess to stay in."

By contrast, the room he had arranged was his own bedroom — thoroughly clean. Cleaner, even, than the rooms at the cathedral.

"Then I suppose I should head back myself. I'll take my leave."

He had wanted to ask for a room at the inn for himself, but as the Saintess's guardian — temporary though the role was — he could not leave Ariel alone.

"Hwaaah…"

The moment Woodrow's footsteps faded, Ariel flopped onto the bed.

"Saintess, aren't you letting yourself go a bit too much?"

Her skirt had flipped up, revealing the soft, plush curve of her thighs.

"Uuu… please cut me some slack… I used too much divine power, so I'm exhausted…"

Ariel hugged a pillow to her chest and rolled about on the bed. The change in her was almost too much. Moments ago she had been as lofty as a single flower blooming atop a cliff; now she was a shameless, spoiled child.

"You truly worked hard today."

Lowen gently patted her head.

"You can praise me more, you know. Ehehe."

Apparently not minding the head pats, Ariel grinned bashfully.

"But… I was really shocked… To think something like that happened in a little village like this…"

Still receiving the gentle strokes, Ariel gazed up at the ceiling. It had been a truly vicious curse. The aftereffects had tormented people even more than the curse itself — gnawing away at body and mind, leaving the villagers listless and frail.

"Do you think similar things are happening elsewhere?"

"There's no way of knowing."

Ariel murmured something while staring at the ceiling, then her eyes slowly drifted shut.

"Uuunh… nnh…"

When Ariel opened her eyes again, moonlight was streaming through a window stained black with night.

"Haaah… haah…"

Something was wrong with her body. Her lower belly, where the butterfly mark lay, burned as though her womb itself were running a fever. Her heart pounded wildly, and a foul, stifling pressure pricked at the tips of her breasts. It was as if she had entered her fertile period — her body hungered for sexual pleasure.

"No…! I have to hold on…!"

She caught the hand that had been drifting toward her crotch and shook her head hard.

"I can do this. I can endure it."

She tossed and turned.

"Ah…"

Lowen was asleep on the sofa at the far side of the room.

"Whew…"

Ariel let out a sigh of relief. Had she given in to lust, slipped a hand into her undergarments, and started touching herself, Lowen would have caught her in that shameful state again. And seeing that he was there helped her cool her head.

She pulled the blanket over herself and closed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her eyes once more.

"Hnn… haah… aah…"

She couldn't sleep. The more she held out, the hotter her body grew, lust boiling and seething. The desire that had lingered in her lower belly climbed her spine and clouded her mind.

"I-I can't… Lord of Light…"

Ariel clasped her hands and recited a prayer. Specks of light fell through the dark room like snow. It was not a prayer to calm sexual desire — she had tried that several times before, to no avail.

"Th-this should do it… right?"

Ariel's prayer was a sleep prayer — one that lulled every living thing around her into slumber.