Chapter 130
Chapter 130
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 129
Chapter Title: Beggar Gritz (5) - Rowdy
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"I want to see the family head."
In response to Grace's bold request, the butler replied with utmost formality.
"The master is currently occupied with his duties. If there's anything you need, please tell me or the servants."
"This is something you all can't decide on your own anyway."
"I shall listen carefully."
His attitude suggested he'd hear her out first before deciding if he could handle it.
Grace stared at the butler for a moment, then shrugged nonchalantly.
"I want to hold a banquet."
"...What kind of banquet do you mean?"
"Why, of course, a celebration for me properly becoming a shrine maiden to serve our guardian god."
A faint look of embarrassment crossed the butler's face, which he'd been pretending was impassive.
The other servants standing silently nearby reacted similarly.
Even if they couldn't openly gossip, the Canillians were well aware that the citizens viewed shrine maidens as half-sacrifices.
Wouldn't anyone question the sanity of livestock raised on a farm proposing a festival to commemorate its own slaughter day?
But they couldn't ask that outright.
At least not officially from the Canillian family's standpoint, where the shrine maiden position was deemed highly honorable and glorious.
Thus, Grace could assert it shamelessly.
"When you think about it, everyone in this territory lives off the guardian god and us shrine maidens, right? Isn't that so?"
"...That is true."
"Then it's only natural to have an event celebrating that blessing and letting everyone rejoice. It's weirder that no one's suggested it until now."
The butler hesitated for a while but eventually acknowledged it wasn't something he could handle alone and passed the decision upward.
"Understood. I'll ask the family head."
"Please give me an answer as soon as possible. If I'm to be the star of the event, I have a lot to prepare myself."
Ignoring the odd stares around her completely, Grace strode off to her room with dignified steps.
However, once inside and shielded from prying eyes, she flopped onto the bed and let out a bizarre "Ughhh."
Covering her forehead with her right arm and staring at the ceiling, Grace recalled her earlier conversation with Gritz.
"...You're telling me to suggest a banquet myself? Have I annoyed you that much with all my clinging?"
"This isn't me venting anger, you brat."
"If it's not venting, then what insane idea makes you order something like that?"
"To distract their eyes and manpower, you need to stir up nonsense like festivals and banquets."
Even a small party inviting a few people to the house required fussing over food and cleaning.
How much more manpower, resources, and energy would a banquet hosted by the territory's lord to honor its guardian god consume?
Naturally, gaps would appear everywhere, making it easier for him to act from the shadows—that was Gritz's explanation.
But even after hearing it, Grace's reaction wasn't enthusiastic.
"I get what you're saying, but if it's such a hassle, the Canillians will just ignore it."
This was different from tossing some sponsorship money to the orphanage or pocket change for maintaining dignity.
They tolerated Grace's whims because it was cheaper than risking the ritual by suppressing everything—not because they truly respected or honored her as a shrine maiden.
If she asked to use the family's resources on a massive scale, would they take her seriously?
"They will."
Contrary to Grace's worries, Gritz declared it confidently.
The Canillians had no choice but to comply.
Or more precisely, they'd see it as beneficial.
"Why?"
"If the banquet actually happens and people see you enjoying yourself there, what will they think?"
"That the girl's finally lost her mind?"
"That's one right answer."
"Don't say that here."
Ignoring her grumbling lightly, Gritz continued.
"But at the same time, some will start doubting if the negative rumors about shrine maidens are true. Maybe it really is an honorable position, just as the territory's rulers claim."
"Nah, no way. People are too sharp for that."
Grace frowned.
It seemed utterly implausible to her.
"No, you idiot. They're sharp, so they'll believe it instead. Or rather, they'll want to believe it."
The oak barrel containing Gritz shook side to side.
To Grace, it somehow felt like he'd spat with a "Ptooey."
"Just look at how the humans here treat you. They see you as a sacrifice, so they benefit from it themselves. Saying thanks feels like mockery, but rejecting it outright is weird too. Even candidates who openly refused the shrine maiden role and caused famines weren't touched out of fear of divine punishment—how much more so for you, who's accepted it?"
"......"
"What matters in rumors isn't how plausible they are. It's how much people want them to be true. Even if it's suspicious or lacks credibility, so what? If the shrine maiden role is as special and blessed as the Canillians claim, they no longer have to feel guilty."
Grace's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
She thought to nod along as usual and keep the conversation going, but words wouldn't come easily.
In her stead, Gritz pressed on.
"If people feel uneasy about shrine maidens, that sentiment affects the guardian god and the Canillians too. Fear is a tool for control, but it can't draw voluntary support. And not every shrine maiden will obediently follow their lead like you."
"Well..."
Grace vaguely affirmed.
She'd heard rumors that her predecessor's shrine maiden, overcome by terror and grief, had starved herself nearly to a corpse before being offered up.
Compared to that, Grace—whose worst was snapping at servants despite everything—was a model student from the Canillians' perspective.
"Accepting your proposal flips hidden negative opinions and makes managing future shrine maidens easier. Unless the family head is too dumb to see the gain, he'll jump on it."
"What exactly are you, Mr. Gritz? You know way too much for a regular beggar."
"Instead of suspecting others' knowledge, reflect on your own ignorance."
"Even when you talk, you make it so unpleasant."
She puffed her cheeks and pouted briefly.
Then, murmuring lowly, Grace asked.
"Will doing this change anything? Or could it make things worse? What if my acquaintances suffer because of me?"
If things didn't go as planned, her situation would worsen.
No, trusting and gambling on Gritz, whom she'd barely met, was illogical to begin with.
What was she even basing her life on by relying on him?
So, Grace wanted Gritz to reassure her firmly.
To say there'd be no problems, that trusting only him would solve everything.
"You'll only know if you try."
But the mysterious beggar didn't meet her expectations.
"Maybe the rumors are just rumors. Instead of a cruel sacrificial fate, eternal life in some heavenly realm might await you. Taking unnecessary risks could just make your life harder."
Gritz's voice was gentle.
Incredibly so, compared to his usual barrage of insults.
"If you just go along obediently with the flow, you'll leave with honor. A saint who literally gave her body for her family, city, and territory. A holy woman who had a way to survive but refused it to avoid burdening others. How plausible is that? If you can die at the last moment proud of 'I lived for others,' what a perfect eulogy."
And Grace realized that was the most intense scorn Gritz could show.
That his eyes, hidden in the barrel, held not a shred of warmth.
"The me here is as simple as a dog. I wag my tail for those who feed and favor me, bare my teeth at those who swing sticks in malice."
"Some call that stupidity. But let me ask in turn: then what is a wise life?"
"Is pretending poison hidden in food isn't poison wisdom? Is calling a gold-plated club not a club wisdom?"
"Don't seek reasons for your actions in others. Don't dress up your inner hesitation and pain as 'for others.' Think only about what you want, what you hate."
"Finally, I ask: what do you want to do?"
"Ughhh..."
Recalling it all anew, Grace covered her face with both hands and rolled around on the bed.
"Why did I have to burst into tears right then..."
Was it shame from her true feelings being exposed raw, or gratitude from a sliver of hope piercing her half-resigned heart?
Even she couldn't tell which now.
What mattered was she'd accepted Gritz's plan, and there was no turning back.
After flailing silently in her room for a while.
Only after confirming the family head's approval did Grace finally sort her jumbled emotions.
Right.
Now she had no choice but to go through with it, win or lose.
"The lord's holding a banquet?"
"It's to celebrate the shrine maiden's day with the guardian god, they say?"
When the rumor first spread, the city's citizens couldn't hide their bewilderment.
Unless they were naive children or people willfully ignorant of the world, no one was unaware of the shrine maiden circumstances.
But such negative opinions inevitably shrank as the Canillians poured in real money and manpower.
In an era with few entertainments, a chance to eat and drink freely was a rare joy in life.
Regardless of those with some ties to Grace, ordinary folk who'd only brushed past her once or twice on the street quickly hopped on the bandwagon.
Merchants hurriedly prepared alcohol and food for the festival, while others finished work early to carve out rest time.
The whole territory buzzed with excitement, and the busiest were the Canillians organizing it.
"Damn it, preparing in just a week? Is this even possible!?"
"Who's handling supplies? Pull the old grain first—how can you start with the fresh harvest!"
"Clean the square, set up tents fast! Lazybones, run over there! We might hire labor for heavy work, but management is on us!!"
The family head, hearing Grace's proposal, wanted this not as a one-off but a recurring event to solidify Canillian rule. His enthusiasm and expectations trickled down as burdens and wails for his underlings.
Amid the chaotic frenzy.
"Huh? Where'd the oak barrel that was here go?"
"Huh? We have nine total. Right?"
"Wasn't it ten?"
"Check the papers—it's nine."
"Damn, must've miscounted."
The infiltration of the suspicious cardboard box—no, oak barrel—began.