The Somewhat Mad Saintess (11)
The combat priests were furious. Their plate armor, worn over white priestly robes to cover their chests, was soaked through from the rain. And when they learned they'd dragged ten of themselves here just to nab some civilians and a woman, they were seriously pissed.
The lead combat priest wiped the raindrops from his face with his palm and asked the chief priest, "Chief Priest, sir. You're really saying the innkeeper and that saintess beat you up like a rag doll?"
Combat priests might wear the robes, but they weren't the type glued to prayer. They were the church's battle squad, forged for when fists were needed more than faith—proving their devotion with swords and spears instead. No wonder their speech and manners were rough; swap the robes for soldier gear, and they'd blend right in with any legion.
"That's right!"
"I dunno what kinda nutjobs they are, but beating a chief priest? Ballsy. But did they really land those hits?"
"They did! Knocked me down with a punch to the face, then stomped my hand and snapped the bones!"
"Hmm... Doesn't look too busted up for a break..."
The lead priest tilted his head but didn't press the chief outright. He could guess the gist. Probably the chief pulled some bullshit, the innkeeper lost his temper, and boom—assault. The saintess? Priests' antics were predictable; she'd push back. That tracked. But one thing didn't add up, no matter how he turned it.
A civilian beating—not just any priest, but a chief priest? Rage and acting on it were worlds apart. You'd have to be batshit insane to swing on one. Assaulting clergy was a massive crime waiting to drop. Unless the chief did something utterly unforgivable, like trying to jump the innkeeper's wife.
"Can't stand this! Let's move in!"
The chief priest, fuming, grabbed the lead's arm and shoved him forward.
"Ease off. We'll handle it."
"Hurry! Drag those bitches to me now!"
"Got it, so quit rushing."
The lead signaled his men. Armor clanking, they advanced.
Then the inn door swung open, and someone stepped out.
The priests halted, eyeing the newcomer.
"Chief Priest, your voice sounds awfully girly these days."
The man grinned teasingly as he greeted the chief. "Picked up holy power or something?"
Tall guy, solid and balanced build—like he trained. Dark brown hair, neat and clean-skinned; he had a noble son's vibe.
"That the innkeeper?"
"That bastard...! Seize him!"
Didn't look like some psycho flipping lids and pounding priests. But spotting the sword at his hip, the lead revised that. Showing up armed with ten combat priests on site? Surface-level sane, but clearly nuts.
"I'm the lead combat priest dispatched because you assaulted the chief."
"Bertrand, innkeeper."
"You beat the chief priest?"
"Yep."
The casual admission threw the lead for a loop.
He eyed the innkeeper a beat, then said, "Then you admit the charges. Come with us. Where's the saintess?"
"I roughed him up, sure, but this chief pulled some vile shit."
"Like what?"
"Locked up and tried raping the saintess he brought."
The lead glanced at the chief, who foamed at the mouth in a rage. "Lies! Why would I want some saintess? Combat priests—arrest him now!"
Raping saintesses happened on the down-low in church circles. So the lead didn't chalk it up to bullshit.
"You aren't gonna take some innkeeper's word over the chief's, are you?!"
The chief gnashed his teeth as the lead didn't jump to action.
"Arrest him! He confessed! If he's telling the truth, the Goddess would've smited me already!"
"The Goddess smiting you?"
Bertrand chuckled, hand on his sword hilt.
The instant his hand touched it, something happened.
No clue what, but the priests whipped around, senses screaming.
Then one shrieked. "The... the rain...!"
The drizzle froze midair. Then reversed—raindrops arcing back to the sky. Puddles on the ground, beads on grass blades—all rising up.
Terror gripped the priests; they shuddered.
"Gods preserve us..."
The lead muttered like an idiot.
"Gaaah! Over there!"
The sun, dipped west beyond the Vurn Mountains, crested the peaks again. Low rain clouds parted, sunlight lancing through—straight to the chief priest's crotch, spotlighting his groin like midday in the twilight gloom.
Time rewound, sun toyed with. The priests flung themselves face-down, prostrating to the Goddess.
"Ughhh... ughhhh..."
The chief stared at his junk bathed in crimson dusk, half-mad.
The light lingered a tick on his manhood before clouds regathered. Rain poured anew.
As everyone stood dazed, the chief collapsed.
"Looks like the Goddess made her will clear."
The priests lifted their heads to Bertrand—the only one standing tall, unbowed.
"Th-this... what..."
The lead stammered into panic. Witnessing a miracle—and its message crystal clear—shook him deep.
Even miracle-drunk, he clawed for reason. Chief said if true, Goddess would punish him. Miracle hits. Only she could pull that. And she nailed the chief.
One conclusion: Insane as it sounded, the Goddess was backing this guy.
"Sorry for the trouble."
The lead bowed to Bertrand, then barked at his shell-shocked men. "Snap to! The Goddess showed her will!"
Startled, they hauled the chief—now like a criminal—up and dragged him out.
"We'll head back, Chief. Talk to the bishop in the diocese."
"Wha... I... I..."
"Sorry again. We're out."
The lead turned to leave the yard, mind reeling. Witnessing divine will firsthand? Miracle he'd never see again.
What the hell is this guy?
Still buzzing, he glanced back. Bertrand gazed at the distant sky, muttering.
"Had your fun, huh, Goddess?"
Hearing that, the lead thought: This fucker's totally unhinged.
The combat priests left. Entering the inn, Della and Celereja peeled from the window and approached me—both in servant garb since Celereja's saintess robes were torn, borrowing Della's.
She asked, still dazed. "What... was that just now...?"
"Goddess helped me out, looks like. Didn't want an honest, faithful innkeeper framed."
"No way...?"
I ignored her, turning to Della with the same lost look. "Prep dinner, Della. Tell Idi to come down."
"Y-yeah..."
Della headed upstairs. Celereja, uncomprehending, clutched my sleeve.
"Bertrand...? You got... a personal thing with the Goddess...?"
"Nah."
"Then what..."
"Our saintess needs to get to serving too, right?"
"Is it that sword?"
I chuckled, prying her hand off. "What if you dig too deep?"
She shrank back. "Got it..."
Upstairs, Della and Idi bickered.
"The priests all left!"
"No way...! The Goddess shot a death beam at me...!"
"That hit the chief priest!"
"It grazed! Goddess missed by accident...!"
Sigh... that damn black mage...
The dinner rush flew by in a blur. While the staff cleaned, I tallied the books. Celereja, sharp, wiped tables with a rag. Not why I brought her, but if she insists, fine by us.
Her holy healing's raking in solid coin, too. Five silver per—dirt cheap vs. temple rates. Temples get the heavies; our guests are walk-ins with bruises and scrapes. High turnover means volume sales.
If auditors show, bribe with gold, claim all profits go to the temple. Done.
Cleaning wrapped; everyone headed to third-floor rooms. I finished books, snuffed candles, closed up.
Up on three, Celereja leaned against the wall in the dark hall.
"Sleep well, Saintess."
Passing her, she grabbed my sleeve.
"Scared again?"
"Yeah... sorry, just once more at the end..."
"Eh, sure."
Inside my room, she followed and barred the door.
"Why lock it?"
Turning, she flung into my arms. I caught her; she buried her face in my chest, hugging tight.
"What's this?"
"Bertrand..."
She looked up, eyes misty. "Fate's cruel. Maybe Mom fled the church the same way."
Guessing her thoughts, I gently pushed. "Saintess, I get the idea, but this ain't simple."
On tiptoes, straining closer: "After our talk, I thought a lot. Seeing your back facing those combat priests today... I decided."
"Decided what."
"You're the first to reach out. Saved me from trouble, gave warm food and bed."
"That was..."
"Even when I raged and scorned, your endless patience peeled my thorny shell."
"Bit exaggerated..."
Ignoring me, she rubbed her cheek on my chest. "So I decided. Offer myself to you... hold onto you..."
"Whoa, hold up. And Saintess... this okay for you?"
"No other church folk in town. Just keep it secret."
"But the Goddess..."
"Her blessings wrecked my life; she'll overlook this slip. So..."
Whispering up: "Take me... embrace me..."
The fiercely guarded shatter easy, handing over all. Tough shells hide soft cores. Celereja was there—smitten, offering body and soul.
"Saintess, you're at an irreversible crossroads."
"I know. Don't wanna turn back. Rewind time, and I'd just have... loneliness."
Normal relationship? Dunno. But rejecting her now might scar deep. Might reflect objectively—or wrap tighter in hurt...
"Think bedding me helps your future?"
"Don't care if positive. Even worst case beats my past. Please..."
Not a mind reader, can't predict fallout. But one thing clear: Celereja's stunning, alluring—and my blood heated.
I pulled her close, nipping her nape.
"Hah..."
Lips from ear to shoulder; she quivered, sighing.
"To the bed..."
Kissing, we stumbled there. She sat, yanked my shirt, lay back—me atop her naturally.
Propped on elbows, gazing down; she undid my buttons slow.
"Breaking purity... since you're chummy with the Goddess, put in a word..."
"Will do. She'll get it."
No joke, but clueless Celereja took it as one, shy smile. That smile hit: she's a knockout.
"I'm uglier than Della, worse figure than Idwild... might disappoint..."
"You're beautiful, Saintess."
Clothes shed like skins, we tangled slick as slugs, caressing. Saliva, tongues; hot breaths fanned faces.
Time passed; sweat-slick, she writhed at slightest touch.
"Put it in... fill my empty depths with you..."
Between her knees, she moaned though untouched.
"Hah...! Hah... hurry...!"
"Next room'll hear."
Hand over mouth; her fearful eyes pleaded up.
Ready, her hot breaths huffed my palm.
"Mmph..."
Slow thrust in.
"Mmph...! Mmm...! Hnng...!"
She moaned in rhythm. Speeding, she sweated, jiggled.
"Mmph! Mmph! Nngh!"
Glassy-eyed, legs hooked my waist, pulling.
Muffled, sweat-slick, we merged.
Peak hit; she bit my finger, eyes squeezed shut.
Then sucked it, tongue rolling, mumbling.
"Ahh... ahng... came..."
I collapsed atop her slick skin, panting.
Finger-sucking saintess: "Is... it over...?"
"Probably."
"Not... yet..."
Her hand glowed gold, descending below.
Touch reignited me stiff.
Sweat-drenched, she shy-grinned. "Sunup's far off..."
Early dawn, Idwild woke to Della's empty bed. Figuring the busybody was downstairs already, she dressed quick and headed to the first floor.
Della swept the floor.
"Up early, Della...?"
"Slept well, Idi..."
Seeing Della's face, Idwild jolted.