The Saintess and Robert — 3
"You plan to stay here?"
"For the time being, yes. It isn't as though the two of us will be traveling south alone, so it seemed only sensible to become familiar faces to one another first."
When I asked whether it would be all right for me to stay at the cathedral, Adrian looked at me as though the question had taken her by surprise. The business I had come to the Moon Tower to settle was simple enough: hearing the itinerary for the journey south, and securing her permission to remain. After a moment's hesitation, Adrian slowly lifted her teacup.
"Well. It's only that I never imagined it... Not that I object. I simply assumed you would stop by briefly and then return to the ducal residence."
"I'm not particularly fond of that house."
I had tossed the words out as a joke, but Adrian went still, cup halfway to her lips, and quietly studied me. The expression that followed, complete with a soft sigh, had darkened. Whatever it was she had begun imagining, one thing was certain—she had taken my remark very seriously indeed.
"...I see. In that case, we could arrange lodgings for you here in the Moon Tower... you know."
"If it troubles you, feel free to refuse. I can simply return to the ducal res—"
"That I won't allow. You may stay in the Moon Tower."
I fell silent at the firmness of her answer. Her clear eyes, visible even between lowered lids, were fixed on me with unmistakable clarity, and I found I couldn't so much as voice my confusion at her inexplicable behavior. Why on earth had she reacted that way to the mere mention of returning to the ducal residence? But the mood lasted only a moment; Adrian's face soon returned to its usual calm, and she opened her mouth with a trace of hesitation.
"There is one problem, though."
"What sort of problem?"
"This is the first time a man has ever been brought into the Moon Tower. This space has always been mine alone, so even down here on the lower floors, His Holiness the Pope might find it strange. Or Sir Berod, for that matter."
I tilted my head at the claim that no man had ever set foot here. Hadn't I seen paladins stationed just below? It wasn't as though I was unaware that paladins resided in the Moon Tower, so the idea that no man had ever been admitted didn't quite add up. Yet when I pressed, Adrian answered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I've known all the paladins since they were boys, so thinking of them as men... Well. Yes, it's a little difficult, isn't it?"
So she had never once regarded them as men. The face of one of the paladins standing below rose unbidden in my mind, and a wry smile crept across my lips despite myself.
Outsiders were never permitted to lodge in the Moon Tower, but a close bond with the Saintess changed the equation entirely. The Princess had stayed here often in the past, I was told, and so as I descended at Adrian's side, I was able to take a closer look at the tower's interior. Built as it was to catch the moon's light at its very peak, the tower glittered with a soft glow from the crystals embedded in its walls. Moonlight streamed down through the great pillar at its center, where it was transmuted into mana and fed throughout the tower—that mana in turn became light, keeping the tower bright even on the darkest of nights.
"They say the Moon Tower was built when I was a child. Construction began when His Holiness received a prophecy and set out to find me."
"That would make it some fifteen years old, then."
"Come to think of it, I'm a year older than you, Robert. Aren't I?"
"I suppose that's true. I've only just passed my twentieth year."
Adrian chuckled over that for a while, then took my arm to steer us in a new direction. Even with a perfect mental map of her surroundings, moving through them alone was no easy feat for her. She had no choice but to hold on to me. And "hold on" was all it was—a light grip, just enough to follow my lead. Still, the sudden weight of watching eyes wrung a small sigh from me.
"Ahem."
As I'd noticed earlier, the Moon Tower housed a considerable number of paladins charged with Adrian's protection. Nearly all of them were men, and having been at her side since her earliest childhood, they cherished her with particular devotion. No doubt that was why my presence unsettled them. An unknown man at Adrian's side—it had to look strange from every angle, now that she stood on the cusp of adulthood. All I asked was that they understand I meant nothing by it. Holding her arm was purely to help her along, yet the paladins' gazes were uniformly sour.
"Robert? Is something the matter?"
"...Nothing at all."
"I'll show you to the room you'll be staying in. We can walk a little faster."
As it happened, Adrian's voice was a touch more animated than usual, and I even caught one paladin deliberately brushing past at my side. He gave the hammer at his hip a pointed pat—tap, tap. Part of me wondered what exactly he meant by that. And yet, I couldn't say I failed to grasp how they felt.
If Adrian had to be captured in a single word, pure white would suit her best. A woman never once stained, clean, innocent and gentle in every respect. Her blindness stirs the pity of the human heart—the urge to protect her, to be that much more considerate of her. The paladins, surely, looked upon her with just such hearts. And truth be told, even I felt my resolve soften a little whenever I looked at Adrian, so I could forgive them their hostility, fierce as it was.
So we passed the paladins by, and at a certain point along the way, Adrian let go of my arm and stopped dead in her tracks.
"One moment. I think we just passed it. Two steps back from here—isn't there a door?"
"There is."
"That should be the vacant room, then. I can't sense anyone inside."
Following her guidance, I tried the door; it swung open freely, and a draft of cold air drifted out. Not a trace of human warmth lingered within—a room that looked as though no one had used it for a very long time. The furnishings, however, carried a quiet elegance; clearly it was a room kept for guests.
"Mirajane used to sleep here from time to time. There's no other room fit to call a guest room, so if it troubles you, shall I offer you another?"
"It's quite all right. So much time has passed; I doubt it matters. I'll ask for her understanding separately."
"Wait just a moment. It's bound to be filthy, left empty so long."
With that, Adrian gently folded her hands together and let her divine power flow. A brilliant radiance began to swirl about the room. Like a small torch, the light spread slowly outward, and the fine dust caught in its glow scattered and broke apart in midair. A short while later, every last speck had vanished, revealing a room of nothing but unblemished white.
"There. That's a little better, isn't it?"
"Are you not overtaxing yourself? You needn't have gone to such lengths."
"Overtaxing? I am the Saintess, you know—whatever it may look like."
I smiled faintly at the flicker of pride on her face. It was a feeling a little different from what Adele stirred in me—how should I put it, like watching a little white puppy. Before I knew it, my hand had started toward her head; then I remembered she was the Saintess, and drew it back. Had I actually petted her just then, I'd have been written off as a deviant.
While I stood there studying her, Adrian turned her face toward me and slipped her hand around my arm once more.
"If you mean to unpack, better to leave it for a little later. Today is one of Sir Berod's days here, so I must let him know you'll be staying."
"Sir Berod—do you mean the commander of the paladins?"
Berod Alistan. I had heard that name before, in more than a few lives. Though my dealings with the Church had been few, he was renowned as the strongest man within it. When the decree for my subjugation went out, we had crossed paths more than once—he was hardly a man I could call a stranger. He was old enough to be called an elder without exaggeration, yet his unyielding, upright character and a strength matched by no one had raised him to the very summit of the paladins.
Adrian nodded as if to confirm it, then seemed to recall something, her lips parting slightly. Looking faintly troubled, she bit her lip and spoke.
"...Come to think of it, I kept my prayers short today. He won't scold me for that... will he?"
"You get scolded?"
"Mm, how should I put it—Sir Berod is like a father to me. He all but raised me single-handedly from the time I was small, and I saw far more of him than of any other paladin. Why, he still carries the flower ring I made for him, even now."
So even that fearsome old man had someone he held dear. I tilted my head at the thought, finding it strangely unexpected. When he had fought me, he'd looked every inch the berserker—whirling a hammer larger than himself this way and that, sealing each new wound with divine power the moment it opened. On a body that scarcely bled under ordinary circumstances, a man who charged like that was nothing short of a nightmare to face.
Even as these thoughts ran through my head, Adrian kept on about Berod—how he tended to coddle her, perhaps, but was a good man at heart. Their bond, it seemed, ran deep. And once she had talked herself out on that subject, she turned at last to the other paladins.
"The paladins have always been so fond of me. The priests are kind as well, but the paladins especially so."
"It does show."
"Does it? When I was little, they used to follow me everywhere—until I told them I hated it. They promised they would never do it again."
"...Ah."
So this was how they kept that promise—by tailing me in secret. Roughly five paladins, their presence wiped clean, drifting along behind us. I glanced back over my shoulder with a hollow laugh. Far from averting their eyes when they met mine, they only sharpened their stares. The look said, plain as day: lay a hand on her, and you will not leave here whole. I honestly couldn't tell what they took me for. It would have been a mercy if they merely mistook me for some lecher come crawling after Adrian—because the looks they sent me were less those for a lecher than those for a heretic. A few even gritted their teeth whenever Adrian's body brushed against mine. I was only holding her arm to help her walk. Had they heard what happened on the Moon Tower's rooftop, I suspect they would have wept.
"We're nearly there. I can feel Sir Berod's presence."
Just as she said—the farther I walked behind her, the more I felt it: a presence savage and immense. The pressure alone, at this distance, was enough to make my skin prickle. He had been a formidable adversary even back when men called me the Sword Saint, so perhaps this was only natural. Though he seemed younger than the man I remembered, and his aura lacked, perhaps, the full refinement of those days.
"Berod!"
At Adrian's call, that presence began to move, and before long, heralded by the thud of ponderous footsteps, an old man appeared. A beard not yet gone entirely white, and a frame that remained massive. His heavy plate looked ready to split over the muscle beneath it, and together with the crimson cross at the center of his chest, he radiated a presence that weighed upon the very air.
"Saintess. You've come."
"It's been a while, Berod. You seem in even better health than before?"
"Naturally. I've been training quite diligently of late, haven't I."
Berod's eyes, as they met Adrian's, were gentle. It was a warmth wholly unlike any I had ever seen in them, and a short laugh escaped me before I could stop it. So he did know how to be soft, with those he truly cherished. Adrian slipped free of my side and stepped up to Berod, looking him over. As a thin thread of divine power seeped out and washed across his body, Berod smiled and stroked her hair with the ease of long habit.
"I'm glad to see you well. Now—what brings you here?"
"A guest will be staying in the Moon Tower from today. I came to tell you."
"Ah. A guest, was it."
The instant his gaze left Adrian, those gentle eyes snapped back into the eyes I remembered. The holy warrior who had raged like a madman across a hundred battlefields. The moment I met eyes that seemed to seethe with deepening twilight, my shoulders flinched in spite of myself.
"A man?"
"He's a friend of mine, Berod. Robert Taylor—you may have heard the name."
"Haha. A friend?"
Even as he laughed, the killing intent in the eyes fixed on me swelled by degrees. I knew he would not act rashly in front of Adrian—the arm she held trembled faintly, and beyond that, his body did not so much as stir. But one thing was abundantly clear: his manner was nothing like the other paladins'. Where they had merely shot me ugly looks, this paladin called Berod would, without question, become a threat to me...
or so my instincts foreboded.