Your Honorable Head Chef (2)
The inn door burst open. Celereja the saintess strode into the hall, radiating an aura hotter than the midday summer sun. At her entrance, Idwild gauged the mood and slinked off toward the stairs.
"Ah, Saintess. Long time no see."
I greeted her, and in just a few strides, Celereja crossed the hall to stand right in front of me.
"Where on earth have you been gone off to for so long?"
"Had some business in Apenzel. How'd you know I was back?"
"The patrolling guards told me. Said the innkeeper's returned—go check it out."
"The guards?"
Why the hell would they report to the saintess that I'm back? Did she put them up to it or something? Did something happen while I was gone...?
"I heard you went off—just the two of you—with one of the demons working here."
"Yeah... that's right."
"So you must've swung by the inn on the way and crashed there, right?"
Only then did it click why Celereja had barged into the inn yelling my name. Before heading to Apenzel, Marim had mentioned Celereja missing me and steeling herself to visit once the rainy season ended. That "resolve" no doubt meant making up for all the lost "night battles"(?)...
But the moment the rains cleared, she shows up at the inn to find the owner had taken off to the distant north with a female server. Not only no relief for her pent-up heat, but paranoia over what I might get up to with Pelle on the road...
Of course, none of it was my fault that Celereja was pissed to the tips of her hair... Still, should I count myself lucky not to eat a holy beam point-blank?
"We took plenty of coin and got separate rooms. Pelle was being considerate."
To dodge that nightmare, I had no choice but to lie to a holy woman. Small mercy: saintesses couldn't cast mind-reading or lie-detection spells.
"Really?"
"Dead serious. Who'd dare lie to a saintess's face?"
"Hmmm..."
Celereja narrowed her eyes, glaring at my face like she was hunting for the slightest flinch or fib. But who am I? A guy who prides himself on cons and sleight-of-hand like no other. Tricking Celereja? Child's play.
Thankfully, her face softened fast. She blushed crimson, squirming and twisting her body.
"Sorryyy... I just thought maybe something happened along the way..."
"What could happen... We went to catch these monsters called Asenaris. They spew cold air. Feels nice and chilly in here, right?"
Only then did Celereja seem to register how absurdly cooler the inn was than outside. She must've been fuming. I led the wide-eyed saintess under the Asenaris enclosure, explaining the setup, when Pelle emerged from the kitchen.
Celereja immediately fixed her with axe eyes. Holy beams were instant death to demons, so I tensed up. But she stopped at death glares, and Pelle just shrugged off the saintess's stare like it was nothing.
As Pelle headed out, Celereja turned back to me with a demure, maidenly look.
"I'll come early todayyy..."
"Yeah. I'll shut down quick."
Sigh... Tonight, I'm pounding her till she blacks out. Otherwise, with all that buildup, god knows what she'll do... Is this really a saintess?
Celereja covered her cheeks with both hands, flustered and bashful at my words. She said temple duties weren't done and had to head out, leaving the hall.
I followed her to the yard to see her off. The door swung open to a wall of suffocating heat—it hit harder after the inn's chill.
At the yard gate, Pelle stood staring north, face grave.
"Hey. What're you staring at?"
"Something's coming from that way."
"What?"
"Can't make it out from here, but it's a horse carrying a person."
I nearly snapped that plenty of riders hit Rosens these days, but her phrasing nagged—a horse carrying a person, not a rider on horseback...?
Stepping beside her, I spotted it: a lone horse trudging through the distant haze. And atop it... a person?
"What? What's there?"
Short Celereja tiptoed between us, craning her neck.
"Saintess, looks like temple's off the table for now."
I bolted forward without waiting. The horse—head drooping, steps labored—lifted its muzzle at my approach.
"Shit..."
Its flanks were drenched in blood, a long trail splattered behind. The blood was the rider's. He slumped forward, face mashed into the mane, arms dangling limp under the neck. Blood poured from his side like a waterfall...
"Gasp...!"
Pelle, who'd followed, sucked in a sharp breath. The rider's flank was half-torn away, shattered ribs stark white. Guts trailed and dragged across the dirt.
Pelle seized the reins, halting the horse. I approached the man, slumped lifeless against its neck. His face was shockingly intact beside the gore—pale as death from blood loss, even in this summer swelter, but unwounded.
Fled right after the hit? Finger to his nostril: faint exhale. Still clinging to life!
"Hey! What happened?!"
No response, naturally. That wound would've killed anyone. No way he was conscious.
"...North path."
Then, miraculously, his lips twitched faintly. I jammed my ear to his mouth.
"What?"
"North... path..."
He went silent. Ears straining, I caught not words but air hissing out. He's crashing...!
Glancing back, Celereja raced over, clutching her habit's hem.
"Pelle, back off!"
She clocked my glance at the saintess, sensed the play, and hustled to the roadside.
"Saintess! Holy beam!!"
She thrust both hands forward without a beat. Brighter than the summer sun, a massive beam lanced out, bathing horse and rider in golden light. The blood from his waist slowed to a trickle.
Temporary fix. It'd pull him through the crisis, but those guts needed stuffing back in and stitching—or he'd be gone soon.
Celereja staggered to my side, panting from the blast.
"Huff... huff... Needs sutures..."
She'd clocked the wound too—same read as me. Doctors in Rosens? Drag him downtown first...
"Owner..."
Pelle—hand on his neck—called with rare defeat in her voice as I gripped the reins, mind racing options.
She'd never sounded like that; dread hit before her words landed.
"He's dead."
Damn premonitions never miss...
Celereja rushed up shocked, checked his nostril and pulse. Her face darkened.
"He's really gone... Died even under holy light..."
"Heard him rattle before the beam. Probably croaked right then."
"What now? What the hell could do this?"
I scrutinized the shredded flank. Jagged edges—not a blade. Took savage force to bite or rip like that, pulverizing bone and spilling innards.
He'd gasped "north path" before flatlining. But we'd cleared out the Golruks. And they didn't hit like this. Another monster staking claim?
Geography and climate said no—nothing local north of Rosens was this aggressive and lethal. A few herbivores lurked, but they'd bolt from humans, not attack. Key point: "north path" didn't prove that's where it happened.
Who was he? Where from? How? Corpse to the guards. Not natural causes—show Lambert, launch an investigation. Loop in Hildeva en route.
"Pelle. Hit the body with preservation ritual—no rot. Head to city hall. Tell only Hildeva, quiet-like. No other officials."
"Guards too?"
"Nah. Gotta scout north path anyway—tell her park it at the hall. I'll swing by on the way back."
She nodded.
"Saintess, temple for now. Mum's the word to everyone."
"Got it."
No good came from rumors flying blind. Wait till the picture cleared. And that was for the guard captain and administrator, not me.
Might get spotted en route to guards, so I ducked into the yard for a cover cloth. Della—heading out to find me—spotted the slumped corpse on horseback and screamed bloody murder.
Idwild and Marim burst out at the noise.
"What happened? Gaaaah!!"
Marim freaked, blinking to the yard's edge. Idwild, instead, walked right up for a closer look.
"What the...? What's the situation...?"
"Came down the north path like this. Tried saving him, but no dice."
Idwild peered at the rider's ghostly-pale face, head cocked.
"Huh...? This guy...?"