Fingers (11)
Tuesday. The day of theology class, held only twice a week.
“Head Priest!”
As I stepped out of the professor’s office with theology books tucked under my arm, Deaconess Sophia came running from afar, her face lighting up. Watching her shoulder-length golden bob sway every which way as she bounded over, it felt just like seeing a golden retriever in motion.
“Deaconess Sophia.”
“Good morning!”
After a day of rest, Deaconess Sophia was back to her vibrant self. Her emerald eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she gazed up at me.
Her beaming smile was infectious, making the day feel lively already. I nodded lightly while helping her divide up the handouts cradled in her arms.
“Did you rest well yesterday?”
“Yes! Thanks to you, Head Priest, I’m all better now.”
She dipped her head slightly and hesitated, fumbling for words. When I just stared at her blankly, she looked up with a worried expression.
“Um... you’re really okay, right...?”
“Ah. I’m fine.”
“...I’m sorry. For asking something unnecessary back then...”
She looked a bit guilty. Fair enough—her question had triggered me, and I’d shown an ugly side.
But that was no fault of hers. As my teaching assistant and deaconess, gauging my condition was part of her job. It was my own failing.
“No. It’s only natural for you to check on me. If anything, I’m sorry for letting you see that.”
“B-but...”
“I’m fine now. Look at my face. Do I still look pained?”
She stared intently at my face. I met her eyes squarely.
Less than five seconds passed before she whipped her head away. The tip of her ear, peeking out, was bright red.
“Wh-what... Glad you’re okay.”
Awkwardly, we headed for the lecture hall. With my mind at ease, my steps felt lighter than usual.
“Hm... You seem more cheerful today!”
Sophia, walking beside me, was back to her positive self. I tilted my head.
“Do I?”
“Yes. Your complexion’s brighter than usual. Did something good happen?”
“Something good...”
Ever since my meeting with President Damian yesterday, a weight had lifted from my chest.
Though we’d have to receive the priest delegation from the Holy Nation, it was a huge relief to finally dispose of that troublesome finger. It felt like a major threat to the students, and I’d wanted it gone as soon as possible.
I’d tried examining it personally, but detected no traces or energy. Now it was just a withered, mummified thing.
Of course, I wasn’t letting my guard down. I planned to keep it under strict watch and secure until the Holy Nation priest retrieved it.
That demonic power I’d faced in the cathedral... the chilling, grotesque distortion still haunted me. I hoped the Holy Nation would investigate it properly this time.
More than that, though—dealing with the incoming priests from the Holy Nation...
I stopped walking and looked down at Sophia. She halted too, gazing up at me.
“...Why are you staring like that?”
With Sophia here, handling the Holy Nation priests shouldn’t be an issue.
“Deaconess Sophia. Sometime next week, two priests from the Holy Nation should arrive.”
“Fr-from the Holy Nation...?”
“Yes. We’ll probably be the ones receiving them.”
Sophia hailed from the Holy Nation herself. Having graduated from their academy branch to come here, she seemed thrilled at the prospect of compatriots.
The distance from the capital to the Holy Nation was considerable, so her excitement was understandable.
“Their names? From the Clergy Academy? Can we find out who?”
“Calm down, Deaconess Sophia.”
“Ugh... I hope they’re people I know...”
She pouted. We’d stopped in the middle of the hall, so we resumed walking and continued the conversation.
“They’re not from the Clergy Academy. Though one did serve there briefly. He’s moved elsewhere now, apparently.”
“Ooh...”
“The one who worked there is Peter Priest, and the other is Camilla Priest. Both mid-level priests, from what I heard.”
“...”
Sophia’s face fell. A bad premonition stirred in me.
“Deaconess Sophia?”
“Peter Priest... you say?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“And he worked at the academy?”
“...Do you know him?”
She nodded vigorously—her golden bob flying wildly, turning into a mess.
“Camilla Priest is new to me. But if Peter Priest is the one I know... he was the dormitory supervisor at the Clergy Academy... incredibly strict and terrifying.”
“Hm...”
“You had to walk in the dorms—no running—and any hint of a disheveled robe meant penalty points right away. Argh... why him...”
She looked deeply worried, sweat beading on her brow. Apparently stricter than I’d imagined.
“That’s odd.”
“...What is?”
She tilted her head. I patted her shoulder reassuringly.
“He seems lower-ranked than me, an upper priest. What’s to fear?”
“Ah...”
“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid, for the Lord goes with you wherever you go.”
“...Benedictus 8:24.”
Her expression brightened again. I shrugged nonchalantly.
“One of my favorites.”
“Hehe... yeah. You’re an upper priest, after all.”
As we walked, we spotted lingering students hurrying into the lecture hall. I glanced at my watch.
9:28 a.m. Time to pick up the pace.
“Deaconess Sophia. We should hurry.”
“Yes. And, um... Head Priest.”
She called to me, then flashed a bright smile.
“Thank you. Really.”
“...Let’s get to the classroom.”
We entered precisely at 9:30, as always.
Clunk. Rattle.
Peter Priest sat calmly in his seat and gazed out the window.
The empire’s landscape heralded full spring. It truly sank in that he’d left the Holy Nation behind.
Fresh green leaves budded on bare branches, and wildflowers shyly emerged from snowmelt. The awakening of spring was breathtaking.
At the stirring sight, Peter unconsciously gripped his rosary tight.
Behold the vast meadows. Behold the newborn life. Behold the birds soaring free. What could all this be, if not the Lord’s grace?
“Oh... holy Lord...”
He cracked the train window open. The pure scent of wildflowers wafted in on the breeze. Peter closed his eyes, immersing himself in nature’s sounds and smells.
“Spring’s here, huh. The scenery outside is quite nice.”
A voice intruded on his reverie. Peter frowned slightly without thinking.
“...Priest Camilla.”
“Oh, sorry if I interrupted. Enjoying the Lord’s grace? I didn’t realize.”
Peter clicked his tongue at her irreverent tone.
Camilla Priest, a mid-level priest who’d risen young on war merits. Peter just couldn’t stand her.
Since the Great War, the Holy Nation had split into factions clashing ideologically. One side despised the relief priests who’d fought; the other defended them, praying for those who’d answered the nation’s call or joined to save lives.
Peter belonged to the former. That was why he held no fondness for Camilla.
It wasn’t merely about rank—Peter had more years of service, so she didn’t treat him as a full equal.
But a woman who’d set foot in the hell of war, where people slaughtered each other without mercy or compassion? Impossible to view favorably. Her promotion to mid-level priest made no sense either.
If not for the Pope’s public stance embracing war priests, he’d have driven this insolent woman from the Holy Nation long ago. That was Peter’s view of Camilla.
But this wasn’t a private matter. He glanced around.
Conductors checking tickets passed by. Raising his voice here would shatter the peace the Lord emphasized.
“Priest Camilla. Refrain from aggressive words.”
“I merely said the view is nice?”
“That’s not—”
Peter barely suppressed his rising tone. Fortunately, the other passengers ignored them. He let out a deep sigh.
“Haa... Priest Camilla. We’re not here to fight. We’re on a mission from His Holiness the Pope.”
“True. Seems His Holiness thought sending just you wouldn’t suffice.”
“...Priest Camilla, let’s be direct. I know you don’t care for me. So why volunteer for this, knowing I’d be dispatched?”
“I never said I hate you, Priest Peter.”
“Lying in the Lord’s name now?”
“...A slip of the tongue.”
Essentially admitting dislike. Peter shook his head.
“Come to think of it, don’t you have ties to Caldea Imperial Academy? I heard you attended their theology department before dropping out to join the relief corps.”
“...”
“Nostalgia, perhaps? Reason for volunteering.”
This time, Camilla turned to the window. The verdant landscape whipped by, ever-changing.
“...Ancient history, Priest Peter. A dropout like me has no business missing it.”
She closed her eyes. The academy held no fondness—better forgotten.
Yet the reason she’d stepped forward anyway...
“Less nostalgia, more... guilt, I suppose.”
“Guilt?”
“...My own stubbornness. Such foolish pride, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”
She fell silent. Peter didn’t press further.
A long journey lay ahead. The empire was vast, and Caldea Imperial Academy still far off.
Peter donned his monocle and took up his Bible. As the conductor moved to the next car and passenger chatter faded...
In the quiet, the train pressed on steadily.