Close Encounter (1)
That was that, and this was this. It wasn’t as if I’d developed any feelings for them. They were simply friends who were fun to hang out with. Of course, I had definitely realized that both Peter and Zeke harbored feelings for me. The real question was the depth of those feelings. Well, maybe it was fine to hope they might pass like a brief fever. It was probably because none of them had ever visited a truly good “house.” Especially with Zeke—though he might be different—Peter would soon have a marriage arranged for him whether he liked it or not. After all, what kingdom would leave its crown prince, the primary heir, unmarried at sixteen? So for that side, I simply needed to buy time. Zeke was like this because he hadn’t met many other women yet, so while the meaning might differ slightly, the result was the same: I just had to stall.
Me? Are you seriously suggesting I marry a man?
“Ahem, ahem! S-so you are the new saintess. It is I, the Empire’s Archmage! Guinevere Florist!”
The imperial Archmage who arrived faster than expected turned out to be an elf. She had ears about half a palm long that twitched adorably, long flowing hair the color of calm waters, and green eyes. A little kid. Yes, a little kid.
“I am the Church’s Saintess, Lucia. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Archmage.”
“Hmph! This one is also truly delighted to meet a saintess after half a century! I shall grant you the special honor of shaking hands with me!”
“How very honorable.”
“Ah, no! It is this one who is honored to hold the Saintess’s hand!”
No, she was genuinely cute. On the outside she looked twelve at most? Thirteen? This elf child in a slightly oversized robe kept rising onto her tiptoes and dropping back down, twitching as she spoke and extended her hand. Having this body seemed to influence even my emotions; just looking at her made me want to pull her into a tight hug instead of merely shaking hands. In common terms, I wanted to squeeze her until she squeaked.
Of course, I didn’t act on the impulse. I’d save it for my bucket list before returning to my original world.
As we shook hands, her reaction was completely unexpected.
“W-wow… your hand is so incredibly soft……”
She marveled while stroking my hand with her small one, then grabbed it with both hands, rubbing my knuckles and the back of my hand with her thumbs, completely lost in the sensation. Wait, wasn’t she supposed to be an Archmage? Even for an elf, wasn’t her age supposed to be much greater than her appearance?
When I glanced around with that thought, every imperial representative who met my eyes wore a troubled, apologetic expression. Yeah, I got the picture.
“Um, Lady Guinevere?”
“Eh? Ah! No, that’s not— I mean, yes! Exactly! As expected of the Saintess, even the feeling from your hand is completely different! Truly remarkable!”
“Thank you for saying so. Shall we begin the investigation now?”
“Yes! With this one present, such an investigation will conclude in no time! Saintess, fear nothing! This one shall resolve everything!”
“That’s very reassuring.”
What else could I do? She clearly wasn’t actually a child, but I decided to approach her carefully and slowly, treating her with the gentleness one uses with children. After all, she was an Archmage; the Empire wouldn’t have sent her otherwise. There was no chance they were joking around with something like this.
So I had asked the imperial duke’s son who visited me earlier.
“Her age is four hundred and twenty-seven, but she has spent several centuries shut away in libraries reading nothing but books……”
“Then why does she look so young?”
“Some call it a curse, others say she stayed indoors so constantly that she never grew when she should have. It’s best not to mention it in her presence, though. Even if you are the Saintess, she… well, she would get angry.”
That made sense. In such cases, not growing up usually became a complex. Especially after more than four hundred years, still looking only twelve or thirteen—it would be even worse.
Whatever her appearance, it didn’t matter to me. What I needed was her magical skill. If she could accurately identify the cause of the situation that neither I nor Zeke had fully understood, that would be enough.
“Hmph! It won’t be done in a day or two, so just wait comfortably. This one will reveal everything!”
Honestly, she wasn’t entirely convincing in the reliability department, but her confidence suggested she had some method after all. Above all, she was an Archmage. An Archmage. I had never seen proper mages fight, but even the power displayed by the teenage mages at this academy during the theater performance was more than enough to let me imagine their usefulness.
In short, in this world, divine power handled healing and protection while mages took charge of offense and support. A clear division of roles had been established.
“She truly is an extraordinary person. Of course, as an elf she has far more time than us humans to accumulate knowledge, but even among elves there are no other mages of her caliber.”
“Is it that impressive?”
“You are ultimately a member of the clergy, Saintess, so you may not know, but she has transcended the limits of living beings. Above all, isn’t she just so cute?”
That was what I heard from an imperial student in the magic department with whom I had become acquainted through Yulia. The last part sounded like a joke, but her entire demeanor suggested complete sincerity, which left me unsure how to respond. Of course it would be nice if it ended at “she’s cute because she’s cute,” but something about it still felt off.
Think about it. An Archmage is an Archmage. The Empire’s only elf Archmage, at that. Her value was far from ordinary; she was someone to whom the Empire granted every request. Yet people could casually say to such an existence—and to the Saintess from the Brien Kingdom, no less—that “above all, she’s really cute”?
“Do you know about Yulia?”
“She’s famous for her powerful magic, but equally famous for being cute. It’s the biggest reason many young ladies with magical talent decide to become mages.”
“Even Yulia?”
“Yes, I was the same. But now Lucia is my everything.”
For reference, Yulia was once again sitting sideways on my lap. It had become our default position for conversation whenever we were alone. She was so light that my legs didn’t hurt, but if someone suddenly walked in it would be rather awkward.
“Then do you think Archmage Guinevere will be able to detect and resolve even the things Zeke and I couldn’t identify?”
“Magic is different, after all. While divine power is supreme for confronting demonic energy, I was taught that magic is superior for detecting it.”
Yes, I thought I had heard that before—during the crash-course education at the Endium Grand Cathedral and in the lectures I pretended to attend diligently at this academy. The demonic energy of monsters and divine power were polar opposites. With overwhelmingly favorable compatibility, divine power qualitatively dominated demonic energy. The only problem was the small number of clergy capable of using even usable divine power.
In comparison, magic gained no particular advantage against demonic energy. If it wasn’t overwhelmingly inferior but merely even, magic ended up at a slight disadvantage. That was what I had learned.
“Then since she’s an Archmage, she should be able to find something if there’s anything to find.”
“I hope so. There is no Archmage in this world superior to her.”
Good, good. I needed some mental stability myself, so I pulled Yulia into my arms, buried my face in her embrace, and let out a long sigh. Since I had looked into it this far, I could leave the detection to the elf Archmage. I could just rest deeply and prepare for the next business venture.
In fact, the biggest reason I felt burdened enough to cling to Yulia like this right now was that very issue. I had presented it as a new business, but it was a bit… ha.
“Saintess, Your Highness the Princess, may we enter?”
“Ah, come in.”
Yulia rose from my lap with perfect naturalness and speed, returning to the seat opposite. As if on cue, the designers and painters entered. Anyone with knowledge in this field would immediately guess what the next business was about.
“Then we’ll begin with the Saintess’s garments. Will Your Highness be assisting again this time?”
“Can’t I?”
“Oh my, of course you can. With Your Highness helping so enthusiastically, we are truly grateful. Please come this way.”
While studying to adapt to this world and working to raise the value of gold coins for the church’s revival, where would I have found clothes that perfectly fit this body? Even if I had tried to handle it actively, having lived more than thirty years as a man, I had no idea what criteria to use or how to choose them. I could recognize when clothes looked good on someone—“Oh, that suits them”—but I didn’t know how to achieve that effect myself.
So how had I ended up wearing clothes that matched so perfectly?
“Wow, it really suits you. With hair this beautifully golden, this sea-blue color matches wonderfully.”
“Your back… your back is truly magnificent. As expected of the Saintess, this is… I don’t know quite how to say it, but you know how cool it is, right?”
I am a saintess. Therefore, there was a limit to the exposure I could show. Regardless of my personal feelings, society would not accept it. So the only exposure I could manage was essentially my back. Even this was considered quite radical for a saintess’s conduct; if I had not been the first saintess in fifty years, the Pope himself would have already raised objections. But now I was untouchable.
“How is it?”
“You look truly beautiful again this time, Saintess.”
“I’d prefer it to feel more cool than beautiful.”
“Of course, it is cool as well. Then for the pose now……”
It wasn’t anything seductive. Just things like crossing my arms forward while slightly closing my eyes in profile, or holding a cross upward with a loosely clenched fist as if gripping a hwatu card, thumb securing it, head turned slightly to gaze sideways. The focal points were the shoulders, nape, and occasionally the back. Honestly I hadn’t realized about the nape until I saw how Zeke couldn’t tear his eyes away last time; it seemed to work.
“The Saintess’s icons are quite distinctive.”
“Isn’t being different a good thing? Everyone is simply depicting the Saintess as she truly appears.”
Of course, I had no purely commercial intentions. If I translated it into terms from my old world, it would be like creating Rococo-style paintings—vibrant, somewhat stimulating, yet staying within the frame of sacred art or icons. Then, if the Saintess personally bestowed a blessing on each one—ta-da! You would have holy objects that granted blessings simply by being possessed, pleasing both the eyes and the soul to a degree that made ordinary indulgences seem laughable.
“I keep commissioning you because I like your style, so please don’t feel burdened.”
“Y-yes, Saintess. How could it be a burden? It is always an honor.”
Sigh. I was doing all sorts of things just to build momentum. Even while thinking that and sighing internally, I kept a gentle smile on my face. I suppose I had become rather good at imitating a politician.