Hearts Laid Bare (2)
Once the brief chaos had passed, people slowly began to put things back in order. The residents of the shopping district tended to their shops.
“Clear these fallen stones over here!”
“On it.”
“Is this blood from a person?”
“No, it’s from a monster. Someone must have unleashed large-scale magic and blown everything apart.”
The visitors from other countries chose their lodgings and, at the same time, sent letters. Summarizing the shocking events at the academy was a job in itself.
“Honestly, so much happened.”
“Trying to condense it all for the Count is already giving me a headache…”
“Hero, Saintess, demons… where do I even begin?”
“I wonder what’s going to start from here on out…”
Thus the mad daylight faded, and when a solemn sunset began to bathe the square, people at last drifted back to their proper places. It was a time too cruel to call ordinary life, yet too peaceful to call violence.
“…”
“…”
In the middle of it all, Arty and Aria sat in a daze. Calming the people of the Theocracy who kept approaching them with words of gratitude had taken hours.
“Thanks to both of you, my heart feels lighter…!”
“Thank you, Hero! Saintess…!”
“Saintess…! What are we supposed to do now?!”
“Hero! Please offer a prayer for us!”
They learned for the first time that simply speaking could be utterly exhausting. Only after the Prayer Priest declared, “Return to your daily lives. That is the will of the Sun,” did it finally end. The pair were left completely drained.
“…”
“…”
Arty suddenly spoke.
“Dinner.”
“Pardon?”
“What should we have for dinner?”
“…”
Aria let out a small laugh.
“Hero… after everything that’s happened, the first thing you mention is food?”
“I can’t help being hungry.”
“…That’s true.”
“What would you like to eat, Saintess?”
“Hmm… I don’t know. I just want to boil some turnips and greens, slurp it all down, drink a cup of hot water, and sleep deeply.”
“Right?”
“That’s how we ate in the Theocracy’s rural villages.”
“In southern Gallia we add oats to it. Stir it a long time and boil it well, and it becomes wonderfully nutty and delicious.”
“Oats? Aren’t they precious?”
Aria’s eyes widened. In the relatively barren north of the Theocracy, oats were a luxury only cardinals and priests could enjoy.
Arty answered calmly.
“The south produces plenty of everything. In summer the distant horizon ripples with golden wheat. People call that golden color the grace of the Sun God and praise it. Then they eat and drink all night and hold summer festivals.”
“Heh… What do you do at the summer festival?”
“We light a huge bonfire in the middle of the village and sneak some fruit wine the older boys secretly brewed.”
“Fruit wine?”
“Yes. It’s sweet and makes you pleasantly tipsy. Of course, if the adults catch you, you get scolded.”
“How fascinating. In the northern Theocracy we drink strong, cloudy liquor. When I was little… back when I lived with the priestesses, I secretly drank some and ended up vomiting everything. After that I swore never to drink again.”
“That was probably bad liquor or the dregs.”
“Really?”
“Secretly brewed grain wine sometimes spoils.”
“Heh…”
“…”
The conversation flowed. No—it was more than that. Their souls connected. He and she could truly share their lives.
“…”
The happiness was almost too much. Arty closed his mouth and quietly took Aria’s hand. She smiled brightly and did not pull away. The hands that had gripped the holy sword, offered prayers, and fought demon worshippers were warm and gentle. The scent of northern and southern soil seemed to mingle, carrying a peaceful, warm fragrance.
“…”
“…”
Footsteps approached. It was Prayer Priest Edrian.
“So both of you were here.”
“!”
“!”
Arty and Aria tried to stand at once, but Edrian waved a hand and quietly drew nearer. Sunset sparkled on his gray robe, turning it the color of the night sky.
“Rest. There is no need to overdo the formalities.”
“But…”
“Besides, it looked like you were having quite an interesting talk.”
“Ah.”
Aria scratched her cheek awkwardly.
“We were simply… talking about our days in the countryside.”
“Oh?”
“Since both the Hero and I come from rural villages, we had all sorts of fun stories.”
“I see.”
“…”
Arty gave Edrian a small bow.
“…I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“At such a serious and difficult time… I failed to speak as a proper hero should.”
“A proper conversation, you say…”
Edrian lifted his gaze to the sunset. The red-stained sun was slipping into darkness. A sunset was not an ill omen; it was simply the gentle motion of rest. To the Prayer Priest, even that felt like a revelation from the Sun God. So he spoke.
“Where could there be a more proper conversation than this?”
“Pardon?”
“Eating, drinking, mistakes… and living. Daily life itself is something that must be protected by its very existence. It is the most noble value.”
“…”
“Our faith does not stand above these things. Therefore, keep talking. Give thanks for today, reflect upon it…”
“…Yes.”
Edrian turned to leave, but Aria caught him.
“…Prayer Priest.”
“What is it?”
“Will we be able to do it?”
“Do what?”
“We who were nothing more than humble country children… can we truly fight against the darkness?”
“…”
At those words Arty rose as well. It was a question that had weighed on him too.
“…”
“…”
The Prayer Priest did not answer right away. He was recalling countless scriptures and prayers.
“…”
After long thought, when their shadows had stretched far across the ground, Edrian finally spoke, his voice heavy.
“A farmer is.”
“Yes?”
“A farmer is the Sun’s most devout believer.”
“Yes…?”
“They rise at dawn when the sun appears, witness its purest beginning, burn their entire bodies beneath its light all day, and at last look upon the sunset and give thanks for the day.”
“…”
“Where is there a more devout believer than that? Even the priests flee to the cool temple at midday to recite scriptures and pass the time…”
Edrian shuffled over to Aria and Arty and placed his wrinkled hands on their heads. They were hands worn smooth by fingerprints, carrying the scent of ink and paper.
“Son and daughter born of the Sun’s most faithful believers.”
“…”
“…”
Do not worry. You shall be the most devout believers in all the world.
“You have the right to stand nobler than anyone.”
Having said this, Edrian turned away.
“Then… I shall take my leave.”
“Thank you.”
Arty and Aria remained standing in the square where the sunset burned with poignant color. The two stood side by side.
Arty spoke first.
“…Saintess.”
“Yes?”
“…”
He looked at her with utter seriousness. Aria returned the gaze with equal gravity. Their hair was disheveled and their clothes torn from battle, yet they simply looked at each other.
“…”
“…”
Feeling the sunset’s warmth brush his cheek, Arty shyly lifted a finger. He extended his pinky in an awkward little pose.
Aria tilted her head.
“?”
“Um…”
“Yes.”
“That is…”
“…?”
Aria followed his finger with her eyes, then looked at his face. Only then did she notice how deeply flushed he was—even the sunset could not hide it.
“!”
She caught her breath.
Ah. I see.
She smiled and waited for the clumsy country boy’s next words.
In a slightly hoarse voice, Arty said, “With me…”
“Yes.”
“From now on…”
“Yes.”
“Could we start as friends?”
“…”
Aria’s eyebrows drew together. For a moment her fist clenched with frustration.
Should I smack him with the holy sword to wake him up?
“…”
But she relaxed her hand and answered in a pouty tone.
“I can’t feel anything like friendship toward you anymore, Hero.”
“…”
Arty’s face grew even redder. His eyes darted about helplessly.
“Th-that is…”
“I’ll forgive that slip, so try again.”
“…No.”
“Pardon?”
“It wasn’t a slip.”
“…”
Ha. Damn it… Should I just hit him?
The instant Aria narrowed her eyes and lifted her head, Arty spoke with more sincerity than ever before.
“I haven’t truly seen you until now.”
“…”
“Because I’m a commoner and the hero… I thought of you as simply someone at my side. I believed I needed qualifications to stand beside you.”
“Is that so?”
“But that wasn’t right.”
“…”
“You like eating simple vegetable porridge when you’re bothered. When you were young you were the rascal who stole the priestesses’ liquor… and when danger comes, you’re the warrior who steps forward with a sword more bravely than anyone.”
“…Is that so?”
Arty nodded.
“I want to learn again, one by one, all the things about you that I missed—the things you like.”
“Can’t we simply start as lovers?”
“Umm… that is.”
“?”
Arty scratched his head awkwardly.
“If we became lovers right away… I feel like nothing else would matter. I might abandon everything and just run away with you, Saintess.”
“…Hmm.”
Not bad. The hitting could wait until later.
Aria laughed playfully.
“And?”
“So… let’s start again as friends.”
Seeing the things they had never noticed in each other. Learning the things they had never tried to know…
“Slowly, for the rest of our lives… I want to be together. That’s why I want to begin again as friends.”
“…”
“I love you, Aria.”
“…Yes. I feel the same.”
The two smiled and hooked their pinky fingers together. Not as Hero and Saintess, but as country boy Arty and country girl Aria, they made a promise.
“Promise.”
“Promise.”
Because they loved, they became friends. To cherish not only the destination but the very beginning of the journey.
Mave smacked herself on the forehead.
“Are they idiots…? They already know each other’s feelings—why are they acting like this?”
“…”
Lydia spoke with a gentle, satisfied smile.
“Isn’t it lovely?”
“Huh?”
“Before stepping onto a path whose ending is already decided, they take time to admire even the dandelions growing by the roadside. Where else could you find travelers so pure and so poignant?”
“…”
The world inside that adult game had always been harsh. One had to fight endlessly against villains who targeted the heroines. Once the Vow of Chastity was broken, one had to entwine bodies before they could be stolen away. Like rabbits fleeing a beast—urgent, anxious, desperate to protect love.
“…”
But these two were different. They simply trusted each other purely and cherished the present so they could remain together in the future.
“That is what pure love looks like. Foolish because it is pure, lovable because it is pure.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“…”
Mave looked forward again.
“Hmm.”
“So in the Gallia countryside…!”
“Really? In the Theocracy countryside…!”
Arty and Aria happily exchanged stories of their rural lives. They found joy in talking about ordinary daily matters and delicious food. Watching them, Mave muttered.
“They look more excited now than when they were Hero and Saintess.”
“Because that is their true nature.”
“That?”
“Yes. Their true souls have always been in warm soil. Meeting someone who treasures that same truth has made them happy.”
“I see.”
Lydia smiled quietly.
“Truly a beautiful promise—friends who have vowed to become lovers.”
“…”
Morgan watched Lydia for a moment, then glanced down at her own pinky finger.
“…”