God Whispers: Get Some Exercise
On the road to the Holy Order, Kyle gazed blankly out the carriage window.
The Saintess had kept her eyes closed for some time now, murmuring prayers under her breath.
Watching her, Kyle found himself quietly impressed in spite of himself.
…She's memorized all of that. Is she even human?
It had been nearly ten minutes since she started, and she was still going strong. He wondered if she might simply be repeating the same prayer over and over—but no. The prayers flowing from her lips were different from beginning to end, every word and every meaning distinct.
Perhaps an absurd level of memorization was simply a basic requirement for becoming a Saintess. If only she were a little better at exercise on top of that, it would be perfect. The thought came to him as naturally as breathing.
"Kyle, my brother."
Just as he was thinking he should have brought a dumbbell along to work out, the Saintess finished her prayers, opened her eyes, and called his name.
"That person earlier—she was the young lady of the Litorio Grand Duchy, was she not?"
"Yes. That was Lady Elga. But why the sudden question?"
"You two seemed closer than I expected. I had thought relations with the Litorio Grand Duchy were rather… strained."
One of the people who had provoked Lea of the John Nassen family was the second son of Litorio. In the process he had been injured badly enough to take a leave of absence from the Academy. Regardless of the circumstances leading up to it, relations between John Nassen and Litorio were, as far as the Saintess understood, extremely awkward.
"We're not particularly close, but we're not at odds either. Not long ago I even wrote a formal letter of apology to the Litorio Grand Duchy myself, representing the John Nassen house."
"You apologized even after the findings confirmed that House John Nassen had done nothing wrong?"
"I believed it would be better for both families that way."
At Kyle's words the Saintess's face lit up with open admiration. He wondered at the sudden reaction until her next words made the reason clear.
"Apologizing to someone is far more difficult than people think. Especially when you have no real reason to apologize—no one wants to be the first to bow their head. In truth, many people simply cannot manage that single word of apology. Pride gets in the way, or they simply hate the idea of yielding."
"I didn't do anything that remarkable. It was a trivial matter, really."
"Yes. A trivial matter. But the world, you see, is a place that can change because of one trivial matter."
And so, she whispered, Kyle my brother, you are truly a good person—taking his hand and even offering up a prayer for him.
…Honestly, while I was writing that apology I did wonder if I really had to go that far.
Ever since he decided to enroll at the Academy, this felt like one of the best decisions he had made. The old saying was right after all: do good deeds and you receive rewards.
"Kyle, my brother?"
"…Ah."
At the Saintess's touch, Kyle jolted upright. He must have dozed off while staring blankly out the window. In a space where there was nothing useful to do, he conserved his stamina by sleeping whenever he could—and then unleashed that saved stamina in a sudden explosion when the moment demanded it. That was the teaching of the John Nassen family, and at some point Kyle had begun following it without even thinking.
Never skipping a meal, always sleeping on schedule—everything for that same reason. Anything that could chip away even a fraction of combat power was to be avoided! That, too, was another core principle and code of conduct of the John Nassen line.
Surely she won't scold me just for dozing off…
If she actually did, he wondered whether he would have to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness on the spot. He could live with looking foolish in front of anyone else, but in front of the Saintess he wanted to show only his best, coolest side. Praise from his absolute favorite character was every bit as thrilling as putting on muscle.
"Are you very tired? I'm so sorry. I insisted we leave far too early…"
But the words that left the Saintess's lips were not a reprimand—they were an apology. Kyle had simply been bored and had automatically slipped into power-saving mode to conserve stamina. Yet she was blaming herself and looking genuinely contrite.
"Absolutely not. I only dozed off for a moment. There's no need for you to apologize."
"If you say so… but if you ever do feel tired, please tell me. All right?"
"I promise I will. So please stop apologizing."
Only then did the smile return to the Saintess's lips. That smile was so lovely that if God Himself struck him with lightning for making His precious Saintess apologize, Kyle would accept the judgment without complaint.
"Um… but why did you call me so suddenly…?"
"Ah! We just arrived."
"Arrived… at the headquarters of the Holy Order?"
"Yes! If you look out the window you'll see a completely different landscape from before!"
Just as she said, the scenery beyond the carriage was utterly transformed. Pure white buildings and the emblems of the Holy Order filled this sacred land—the city the Empire had dedicated to God, officially recognized as the Holy Order's autonomous territory. An entire city formed into the Holy Order itself, the dwelling place of those who followed the divine.
The carriage gradually slowed, then came to a full stop. A stir of activity rose outside, and presently the door opened. In a flood of bright light stood a throng of priests and holy knights. The Saintess, smiling as she looked upon them, spoke.
"Welcome to the headquarters of the Holy Order, Kyle my brother."
Stepping down after her, Kyle could only let out a breath of pure awe. The Holy Order was grander and more beautiful than he had imagined.
"…This place is incredible."
"Isn't it? Everyone gasps like that the first time they see it."
Following behind the Saintess, Kyle cast a discreet glance over the bowing priests. The holy knights standing further back at least showed some signs of having put in physical effort. The priests, however, looked as though they had never once engaged in the sacred work of building their bodies.
Strange. Aren't the priests of the Holy Order supposed to be the ones who never shy away from a path of hardship?
With bodies like those, they wouldn't manage a staircase, let alone a pilgrimage of penance. If they had simply been overweight, he could have understood. But the priests were simply too frail—thin enough that a stiff breeze might blow them away.
"This way, Kyle my brother! Over here!"
Pushing his deep concern to the back of his mind, he followed the Saintess. At first Kyle had tensed, thinking he might be about to greet the Pope. But the Pope was not some neighborhood grandfather you could simply drop in on whenever you liked. Come to think of it, since the Pope stood above even the Saintess, meeting him on a first visit would have been stranger still.
The place Kyle was heading toward now was the residence of a cardinal. For the son of a mere noble house to meet a bishop-level cardinal of the Holy Order was already a considerable affair. Many nobles, hearing of it, would probably have envied him.
"May God be with you. It is a true pleasure to meet you like this, Brother Kyle."
"It is an honor to meet you, Cardinal Paulo."
Yet when Kyle actually faced the bishop-level cardinal, his reaction was calm and understated. Ordinary nobles would have been bowing and scraping, desperately trying to curry favor. For a young noble scion to respond like this left both the cardinal and the Saintess visibly surprised.
How, then, could Kyle manage such composure? Was he deliberately showing the detached bearing of a John Nassen before the Saintess, the cardinal, and the Holy Order itself? That possibility existed, but the biggest reason was simpler: he simply did not know the inner workings of the Holy Order well enough. He had no idea that the Cardinal Paulo he was meeting was the leading candidate to become the next Pope.
As expected, a direct descendant of John Nassen is different. To stand so unshaken before anyone…
Unaware of that fact, Cardinal Paulo was quietly impressed. When the Saintess—Hildegarde Dominica de Agatha Seraphim—had suddenly announced she was bringing a guest, he had been thoroughly flustered. And when he learned that guest was a scion of House John Nassen, he had been utterly shocked.
These were the people who had smashed the Academy, a direct dominion of the Imperial Family itself—a power even the Holy Order tread carefully around. On top of that, they had once refused the Holy Order entry into their lands, declaring that they trusted only themselves and the bodies they had trained rather than God. From the Holy Order's perspective, it was only natural to regard the John Nassens as arrogant and violent in the extreme.
But seeing the young man now, the cardinal began to wonder whether all of that might have been a misunderstanding.
"On the way here, the Saintess shared many good words with me, and recited shining prayers. That alone would have been more than enough, yet to be brought to such a glorious place as this fills me with profound gratitude."
"Hahaha. You leave me quite at a loss for words."
Watching Cardinal Paulo's kindly smile, Kyle privately congratulated himself for having kept up with historical dramas and period pieces in his free time. Without that, he never would have managed a line like the one he had just delivered.
"Your Eminence."
Sensing that the atmosphere was favorable enough, Kyle decided it was time to advance the purpose of his visit.
"Please speak, Brother Kyle."
"I have heard many excellent words from the Saintess. Truly moving words that stirred something deep in the chest. And so I would very much like to hear the words of the other priests who serve here at the headquarters of the Holy Order as well."
At Kyle's request Cardinal Paulo let out a soft "Oh?" of surprise. Until now, not a single member of the John Nassen family had ever shown this kind of interest in the Holy Order. For a direct descendant of that house to come in person and say such a thing was a most welcome development.
"By all means, Brother Kyle. That is most welcome news."
In truth, Kyle had no particular desire to hear fine sermons. What he wanted was a more precise assessment of the priests' physical condition. Even the brief glimpse earlier had been shocking—they looked far too unused to exercise. His real aim was to gauge the full extent of the problem and then gently suggest something to the Saintess.
"Ah, and one more thing, Brother Kyle."
"Yes, Your Eminence. Please go on."
"If you have the time, would you be willing to spare a moment for one more person of our Holy Order?"
"One more person… who exactly do you mean…?"
Just as Kyle asked the question, a polite knock sounded at the door. Immediately afterward came a woman's voice—calm, yet carrying a clear, steady strength.
"Your Eminence. This is Elfreda, Commander of the Holy Knights."