Chapter 111
Saint, You’re So Vulgar! – Chapter 111
Astarion was a small peripheral nation that even among the alliance could be considered minor.
It had no particular peculiarities, and its relations with the surrounding kingdoms were amicable, with no real points of contention.
In people's minds, it was generally seen as a peaceful, tranquil country.
The fact that Versia hailed from that kingdom's royal family was something fairly well-known even within the Church.
After all, her surnameAstarionwas the name of the kingdom itself, so anyone who wasn't a fool would know.
Yet Versia never put on airs of authority because of it.
Prior to that, she never even mentioned to others that she was a princess.
As such, it was easy to forget about it absentmindedly.
Asher was just such a case.
'Family, huh...'
A slight sense of relief washed over him. Truth be told, looking back on past events, Versia didn't seem to hold particularly fond feelings toward her homeland.
He wasn't a fool; sticking close to her like this, he couldn't have missed it.
Moreover, she'd shown a reaction like a seizure just from meeting alone with the Pope, who knew her past.
Anyone could easily tell from that alone.
No doubt, her relationship with her family was far from good.
Meeting them wouldn't be pleasant.
However, avoiding it was impossible.
Thus, a plan was needed.
First and foremost, he naturally had to inform Versia of this.
She was free to share or not about her family, but he should at least suggest how they ought to act.
The problem was how to broach the topic with Versia.
He had spent the night wrestling with that very dilemma.
Asher thought of someone he could consult on this.
So, after dinner that evening, once Versia had left, he spoke to the high priest.
"May I step out to the chapel for a bit?"
"Oh! Evening prayers! Splendid. The very picture of a devout saintess!"
The high priest was overjoyed.
Even so, to shed tears of emotion at the mere thought of the saintess visiting the chapel...
It spoke volumes about how far the saintesses of this generationand the lasthad strayed from true piety.
In any case, it was a good thing.
Asher gave an awkward smile, left the lodging, and arrived at the chapel.
Fortunately, the person he sought was there.
"Your Holiness!"
"Oh, Sir... er, Sir Terbion, I see."
"Heh heh..."
Asher scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
His mind felt utterly at ease.
Of course it didwho else on this land could reveal their true identity without fear, save Versia and himself?
Pope Igor smiled.
"What brings you here? Some worry weighing on you?"
"You see right through me."
Asher's shoulders slumped.
Igor pulled a paper-wrapped loaf of bread from his robes.
"Just in timeI have bread today as well. Shall we talk while you eat?"
"Ah, thank you, Your Holiness!"
And so the consultation began.
* * *
Asher explained the Astarion royal family's attendance and his dilemma over how to tell Versia.
Igor understood the concern deeply.
"Your relations aren't good, are they? It's enough to give anyone pause."
He chuckled softly.
Asher let out a deep sigh.
It was a relief not to have to explain the backstory.
After all, it was Igor who had brought Versia into this Church in the first place.
Of course, Asher had no intention of prying into her past with him.
That would violate his promise to Versia.
He still hadn't forgotten Versia's reaction during their previous meeting with Igor.
Acting on his own in matters she didn't wish was rude.
He had no desire to betray Versia's trust.
Upon expressing such sentiments, Igor smiled warmly.
"I'm glad the saintess has found such a fine guardian."
"You're too kind...!"
"No need for humility. You've more than earned the praise."
He tore off a piece of bread studded with raisins and handed it to Asher as he spoke.
"Hmm, indeed. Speaking rashly could sour the mood irreparably."
"Right?"
"But in times like these, facing it head-on is often key, wouldn't you say?"
Igor popped a piece of bread into his mouth.
Satisfaction lingered at the corners of his lips.
"As for help I can offer... yes, perhaps the guest list from Astarion. I'll prepare it for you. Why not take it to the saintess and speak frankly? Something like: 'Guests from your homeland are coming, and I don't know how to handle them. I need your guidance.'"
In the end, the straightforward approach was best.
Yet it was a solution Asher could certainly sympathize with.
He wasn't sure how the guest list would help.
But thinking shrewdly, perhaps Igor was providing it to assure Versia that no one she'd dread was on it.
That was the only aid that came to mind.
He glanced at Igor, but the pope seemed intent on saying no more.
"A misplaced word can become an indelible stain. At my age, I've learned the simple truth that every utterance demands care."
Igor's smile was gentle.
Asher resolved not to press on thornier matters, honoring the implication.
The meeting ended there.
Asher received the guest list.
A quick scan showed the name of the current reigning queenpresumably Versia's motherand the rest were unknowns.
Even as a first-class holy knight at the Church, the alliance's heart, he couldn't memorize every key figure from a peripheral kingdom.
The night passed like that.
The next day dawned with dawn prayers; after spending time with the saintesses as usualbusy squabbling among themselveshe ate lunch and returned to the lodging.
Around then, with just the two of them alone, he presented the guest list to Versia.
"What's this?"
"Could you take a look?"
Versia took it nonchalantly and checked it over.
Her expression hardened instantly.
The chill in her demeanor was enough to freeze the air.
He could feel it plainly.
She loathed even seeing these names.
Asher clenched his fist tight.
Then he spoke.
"Astarion royalty will attend this Holy Consecration Festival. People from your homeland, Saintess."
"......"
"As I said before about the past, if you don't wish it, I won't pry. But you know we can't avoid facing them. At the very least, could you advise me on how to conduct myself?"
Versia continued glaring at the list.
Anyone not a fool could sense the murderous aura rising from her.
Her words spilled out as if chewed and spat.
"...How shameless."
"Ugh..."
"No, not you, Sir Knight."
Versia closed the list.
She shut her eyes as if composing herself, then wore a bitter smile.
"Yes... I suppose we must."
Asher glanced at her face.
It looked somehow sorrowful.
* * *
Four days before the Holy Consecration Festival, guests from outside began arriving.
The intensive oversight had eased compared to before.
With external visitors coming, schedules had to be carved out accordingly.
Asher, too, found himself freer than before.
The food was still unsatisfying, and the days dragged on long, but what could be done?
No fresh sorrow welled up over it.
Today was the day.
The day the Astarion royals arrived.
Asher exited to the Church entrance with Versia.
Before the grand archway door, holy knights stood in formation, fully armed; Asher stood at the center in ceremonial robes, Versia similarly clad in armor.
The wait wasn't long.
In the distance, carriages bearing the Astarion crest approached in a line.
Asher tensed. Versia was expressionless.
The lead carriage soon halted before the gates.
Then, with a click, the central carriage's door opened.
Stepping out was a refined middle-aged woman.
To Asher, she exuded a vaguelyno, strikingly familiar air.
Pale sky-blue hair, green eyes, but otherwise every feature resembled Versia's.
Hermione de Astarionthe reigning queen and Versia's birth motherstood there.
-Just act as usual. I'll block anything too much.
Versia had said as much. Since she'd left so young, they wouldn't recognize her changes.
Queen Hermione looked up and spotted Asher.
Immediately after, her eyes filled with aching longing as she quickened her steps.
It was the moment she approached for an embrace.
"Ver..."
Shing!
Versia drew her sword, blocking between Asher and Hermione.
Hermione's face stiffened. Asher was startled inwardly as well.
Versia subtly emanated a razor-sharp hostility.
In the suffocating tension, she spoke in a firm voice.
"Please refrain from contact with the saintess. These are dangerous times."
It was phrased as a request, but unmistakably a warning.