A Foundation of Miracles (2)

Naturally, the shocking spectacle I intended to display at the announcement of the first Saintess in half a century wasn’t limited to that single gesture. No, it couldn’t be. Any monopoly over capital or commodities inevitably invites suspicion. For anyone with a functioning brain, the purpose behind this blatantly obvious attempt at monopoly was far too transparent. To keep that wariness from growing too sharp, I needed an equally shocking counterweight. Cardinal Rondel agreed completely. He liked the plan, but worried it would draw too much attention. So I decided to bear the full brunt of that shock—both absorbing it and delivering it—entirely on my own.

“Saintess! Saintesssss!”

“The Saintess looked this way! She chose me! She’s going to save me!”

“Move! Get out of the way! I’m the one who should be standing where her gaze falls!”

I had prepared myself, yet the moment I stepped onto the low terrace of the grand cathedral and looked out at the crowd, their fervor was overwhelming. It felt like staring at a sea of fanatics. Then again, these weren’t nobles or royalty; they were commoners. Of course every last one of them would be a fanatic. Even charlatans who hired actors to fake healings could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠manufacture devotees—how much more would a genuine Saintess who could truly make the lame walk and the blind see inspire?

Ugh, I think I’m going to throw up. For real.

Still, being seen favorably by people was far more important than by pigeons, so I barely managed to swallow back the nausea rising from the crushing pressure.

“My friends, and all of you who share the same vision as I!”

This world possessed magic, and the magical engineering that crafted tools from it was fairly advanced. The microphone-like device I was using performed exceptionally well. Taking full advantage of its superb quality, I opened with something explosive. The Saintess herself—addressing commoners as friends and equals who shared her vision. The cheers naturally died down, replaced by bewildered murmurs.

“I, Lucia, the Saintess recognized by the Church, could not help but feel profound dismay at the current state of the world! To the east, demonic beasts still swarm, carrying evil within them! Despite disease and famine running rampant across the land, we remain divided! Are we not still fighting among ourselves?”

The murmurs subsided, calmed by the content that followed and by the mages who had been well paid to do their jobs. People nearby watched me in person; those farther away focused on the full-body holographic projections the mages had conjured. They began to concentrate.

“Our farmlands are trampled by monsters! Our homelands are ravaged by mutual conflict! And our Church, instead of becoming a ray of light in such darkness, has used the hero as an excuse to splinter apart—at the very moment we should have been uniting because of it.”

“Do you understand? We are all neighbors. Even if national borders create lines in the secular world, under the name of faith we are all brothers and sisters, parents and children, friends and neighbors. Love thy neighbor. That commandment does not refer only to the people living in the same village!”

Beauty itself is a weapon. Even though the outfit wasn’t overly revealing, its curves were unmistakable. My brilliant golden hair, shining as if dusted with ground gold, and my soft yet profound blue eyes acted as powerful amplifiers, making my already pleasant voice resonate with even deeper emotional appeal.

“Our Church desires peace and order! Therefore, I have resolved to offer the Church’s greatest support to every one of our neighbors. The conflicts between us stem not only from secular feuds, but from the Church’s failure to fulfill its proper role.”

“There must be a reason I was chosen as the first Saintess in half a century, and I believe that reason is to mend this division. To confront the Demon King’s army and the monsters, to give everyone the chance to face their future and destiny, and for the well-being of my friends—all of you—with what is most desperately needed!”

As the speech continued, the gestures, head movements, and shifts in expression I had rehearsed dozens—hundreds—of times in front of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the mirror while running mental simulations grew more natural and passionate. The magical hologram only showed my back, but that was enough for the crowd to read my state.

“May the exalted God take pity on me, and regard all of you even more tenderly than I! And thus accomplish! The integration of the world! The unity of neighbors! One faith, one Church, and one Pope!”

I had wondered if it would actually work, but it easily surpassed the grand cathedral’s highest ceiling. Clenching my teeth so nothing would show outwardly, I bit my tongue hard. Using the resulting pain, I let a single tear slide down my cheek. Thanks to that, I could disguise the visible tension in my jaw as the effort of holding back overwhelming emotion. The magical hologram’s resolution was higher than expected—individual strands of hair were distinguishable even from behind—so the effect would be clear to everyone, near and far.

I raised the pillar of light higher, then higher still. When it finally climbed well above the massive walls protecting the Brien Kingdom’s capital, I sensed I was reaching the limit of the still-unfamiliar divine power I could safely wield.

“Ah… aah……”

The eyes that had been staring in blank amazement at this modern marketing production completely lost their senses when the sacred golden pillar burst apart like an explosion, scattering into star-dust that drifted down like snow. By the time the light fully descended, wrapping around and touching every person, more than half—at the most conservative estimate—had burst into tears. Some collapsed where they stood. At the very least, there was no vulgar scrambling to claim even a little more of the light. This was enough.

If I lingered any longer, I wasn’t confident I could remain standing. The aftershock was already hitting me; my knees had begun to tremble. My legs would give out in less than a minute. So I used that moment as the speech’s conclusion and made a cool exit, bringing the entire production to a close.

Because the magical hologram had vanished the instant the golden pillar scattered, the crowd didn’t immediately notice I had withdrawn.

“You were truly, truly magnificent, Saintess.”

Cardinal Rondel greeted me with a face full of genuine emotion. When I extended my arm, the priestesses—who had already been somewhat influenced by Rondel’s attitude toward me—approached with expressions that looked utterly enchanted and supported me. Whichever way I looked, their gazes felt like they were burning straight through me.

“I’ll leave the rest to you, Cardinal Rondel.”

“Do not worry. I will carry forward the atmosphere of unity the Saintess has spoken of.”

Waaaaaaaaah!

At that point the crowd’s thunderous cheers, which had been lost in rapture, surged past the terrace and slammed into us. To them, my disappearance must have seemed the height of mysticism—as if I had transformed into the very blessing of light and permeated their souls.

“I-I feel like I’m going to throw up……”

“I will escort you at once, Saintess.”

The length of time I could endure lasted exactly until Cardinal Rondel stepped out onto the terrace now dominated by the crowd’s cheers. Another priestess brought a bucket and held it beneath me. The priestesses supporting me tightened their grip to keep my posture from collapsing, while two more who had just appeared spread a cloth to screen me from view.

Bleeegh! Cough! Cough! Blegh!

The sounds of my retching were masked by that human barrier and the ceaseless cheering. I had gone out on an empty stomach in anticipation of this, yet the vomiting continued for nearly three full minutes before it finally stopped.

“I… I need to rest a little.”

“I will escort you to the bedroom.”

The priestess carrying the half-full bucket of vomit disappeared. The one who replaced her channeled a faint golden divine power into her hands and slowly moved it back and forth from the nape of my neck down to my lower abdomen.

Wow, divine power is seriously overpowered. It was only priest-level, not even bishop, yet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it calmed my churning stomach so instantly.

“Huu… Thank you.”

“N-not at all. R-rather, it is an honor, Saintess. To be of help to you.”

The priestess answered with a flushed face, making no attempt to hide her embarrassment. The other priestesses looked much the same. This had to be reverence and longing directed at the Saintess who had granted them something close to religious ecstasy. Yep, definitely. It couldn’t possibly be mixed with any other feelings. Priestesses of all people, and toward the Saintess no less.

The reason I thought this way was because, internally, I was already worrying about other possibilities—the dangers. No matter how thoroughly I examined the holy scripture—which would correspond to the Bible in Christianity or the Quran in Islam—there was nothing in this Church’s doctrine that could be interpreted as prohibiting female homosexuality. I suspected the difference came from the fact that this faith had historically arisen in opposition to something with a distinctly Greek philosophical flavor. What did I mean? There was a prohibition on male homosexuality. Men who took the passive role were treated as though they didn’t even deserve to live.

“Shall I wash you?”

“No, it’s fine. Just prepare some water. Warm, but not hot—right on the edge of lukewarm.”

“I’ll bring it right away.”

Even if there was some latent risk, as long as I held the position of Saintess they wouldn’t dare approach unless I asked first. Therefore, my job was to avoid giving any room for misunderstandings that might cause awkwardness. Above all, I absolutely could not let anyone else wash my body. Fortunately the body was not only attractive but quite flexible, so I could reach my entire back. There were also tools that meant I didn’t have to scrub directly with my hands.

“Ahuu… huuuuu……”

Anyway, even though the Church was short on funds, the clear determination to minimize every discomfort in the Saintess’s living quarters was deeply satisfying. Just look at this bathtub. Even when I stretched my legs all the way out and let my back slide smoothly until my head was fully submerged, my toes still didn’t reach the opposite end. This was something I had only experienced in public bathhouses.

Maybe because of the earlier overexertion, my body felt like it was melting. I stayed submerged for a while, then wriggled my shoulders alternately to climb back up using the edge of the tub. My chest floated into view, bobbing on the water.

“Uh, um. No… no way……”

And finally, at the moment I had the first thoughts of that nature since becoming this body, I chose to squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away rather than do anything about it here. No, it really was beautiful. It had been pretty even when clothed, but without clothes it was even more so. Not in some exaggerated sense—it was genuinely, breathtakingly beautiful. To the point I might fall into narcissism.

The reason I could exercise such restraint wasn’t because the original me possessed that much self-control. It was mostly because I was genuinely afraid that if I did any more I would collapse from exhaustion and face a serious risk of drowning right there in the bathtub.

Later. I’d do it later, when my condition was better and I had time to spare.

“Saintess? Saintess? Are you all right?”

I had been thinking that far when I came back to my senses. The water had cooled slightly, and an urgent knock sounded on the bathroom door accompanied by a voice heavy with worry. I must have dozed off.

“I-I’m fine. Ahem! I must have fallen asleep for a moment.”

“It is evening, Saintess. Shall I help you out?”

Already? I had entered the bathroom a little after four in the afternoon, which meant I had been in here for over an hour. The fact that the water hadn’t cooled much despite that was probably thanks to the temperature-maintenance magic on the tub.

“I’m fi— uh, I can’t seem to put any strength into my limbs……”

Having been slumped there so long, my arms and legs refused to obey for a moment. I probably could have stood, but slipping in the bathroom seemed all too likely.

“I am coming in, Saintess.”

The priestess must have heard my mutter. She carefully opened the door and entered. A gaze inevitably drawn to my chest was unavoidable regardless of gender. In response, I suppressed my embarrassment as much as possible, forced an apologetic smile onto my face, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and reached out my hand. The subsequent process of being supported and dried was so impeccably professional that I thought I might be willing to endure the embarrassment again if necessary.