The Wandering Saintess of the Frontier #3
“Is it still impossible to find them?!”
Isabel struck the desk with a sharp crack of her palm, and the priest standing before her lowered his head in trembling fear.
The gentle saintess’s voice had risen in irritability, her brows furrowed in a scowl—so naturally it was.
Especially since she held the highest authority, just beneath the Pope himself.
“Yes… I am sorry.”
She had nothing left to say, so she bowed and repeated the apology.
Isabel knew him well, yet the agony threatening to snap her nerves left her with no patience for mercy.
Even the simple act of biting back a scream until her throat bled—eyes rolled back in fury—felt like an ordeal.
“Huu… Very well. You may go.”
“Yes… yes! I will report the moment any news arrives!”
Isabel exhaled a long sigh, still bowed, and the man scrambled out in a hurry.
Thank goodness she could escape the eyes that now burned with poison.
Thank goodness no one else was involved.
Those thoughts flashed through the priest’s mind in a blur.
Isabel wiped sweat from her brow while moaning softly, yet her gaze had already drifted beneath the desk.
More precisely, she was reading the papers on the surface line by line, one word at a time.
[… Result: The whereabouts of the hero Adonis remain unknown.]
Unknown.
She had written an absurdly long report just to convey that single word.
Isabel frowned at the empty report.
The pain was beginning to ebb, so she leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath.
One panic attack a day had passed; the relief was automatic.
She had survived another day.
“How…?”
Isabel crumpled the useless report, brows knitting deeper.
Even a meticulously crafted report was nothing but garbage.
She gave a short sigh, then tapped the crumpled ball of paper with her fingers, lost in thought.
After appearing and vanishing like a ghost,
Adonis had never once shown his face.
Time had barely passed, yet the complete absence of any trace was far too strange.
Leaving him alive that night had been equally unsettling.
It was so unnaturally suspicious that it was hard to believe Adonis had been the culprit.
Thinking that, she wondered if perhaps someone else had impersonated the hero.
Isabel shook her head at once.
There was no reason for any coward to claim the hero’s title, even if finger-pointed at.
Moreover, only the one who had accused him would know his innocence.
It could only mean that one of the members who had joined the expedition had exacted revenge.
“Ar… no way?”
The expedition?
For a moment, Isabel’s eyes flashed to the face of a woman—gone in an instant.
It had been no more than the blink of an eyelid, yet the image lingered as vividly as if she stood right there.
Aria.
The woman rumored to be holed up alone in the Mage Tower.
Isabel’s instincts whispered that she needed to visit her, no matter what.
Only then could she uproot the seed of doubt that had begun to sprout.
Whether she uprooted it or not, she prayed for relief from the pain that never left her side.
Since even Holy Power could not ease it, she clung to the hope that magic might hold an answer.
She had to leave.
Isabel regretted that she would not be able to enjoy the carnal pleasure of mixing flesh for a few more days, yet she believed this pain would end far sooner than suffering in silence.
“There. Is someone there?”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Isabel stood and spoke, and the priest waiting outside entered the room.
It was necessary to station one person here to support the saintess without shortage.
If Adonis had witnessed this, he would have mistaken the priest for a nobleman.
“I will be heading to the Mage Tower. Prepare accordingly.”
“Prepare to go to the Mage Tower?”
The priest tilted his head in confusion.
Isabel smiled and nodded.
The pain had subsided, so her usual gentle demeanor returned.
It was as if her irritable words and actions from earlier had been lies.
“I have been worried about Aria being holed up in the Mage Tower without a word. Of course, those dedicated to research rarely leave their stations for long, but the duration worries me. Aria is my friend, the one who shared my joys and sorrows in life.”
“Ar…!”
The priest’s eyes sparkled with admiration at the sincerity that touched his heart.
In this time of spreading divine mercy, her concern for a friend moved her to action of her own will.
Only someone like this could be called saint.
“Understood. I will inform you the moment the preparations are complete.”
“Yes. Please keep the preparations as simple as possible. Also, I should prepare a gift for Aria before entering the Mage Tower. It would be rude to arrive empty-handed after so long.”
Moreover, she would stay the night.
The priest was so moved by Isabel’s thoughtful care that he left the room with more energy than necessary.
.
He returned late at night, yet his face remained bright despite the fatigue.
Not even a shadow of exhaustion showed.
Semiramis was the same—clearer-headed after a sleepless night than anyone who had slept deeply.
Thanks to her, Isabel could greet Oregana at a surprisingly early hour.
“I apologize for arriving at such an early hour.”
“It is I who should apologize. It means I was eager to meet you. For us, this is a great honor.”
The teapot clinked as Isabel poured.
Oregana, sitting across from them, bowed her head in gratitude.
She had walked here alone; there was no carriage or horse outside.
“The tea that clears the mind is truly wonderful. May I ask where you obtained it?”
After taking a sip, Oregana’s eyes filled with intense curiosity.
A single gulp felt as though the clouds in her head had vanished.
It tasted good as well.
For a wandering saintess, such tea was essential, she thought.
“It is tea leaves gathered from the Elf Forest. I received them as a gift from the World Tree while staying there for a short time.”
“Ah…”
Adonis’s face had clearly shown disappointment the moment he put the World Tree into his mouth.
Elf tea leaves were not cheap; he could not have lusted for them.
Instead, he should have been grateful for the hospitality.
“Thank you for giving me such precious tea so readily. I am also sorry to impose.”
“There is no need to apologize. Do not worry about that. Expensive as it may be, tea is still something one must drink. And to share a seat with someone like you, Oregana, is nothing but joy.”
Semiramis licked her tongue smoothly in place of Adonis.
It was what they had agreed upon after their passionate discussion in bed the night before.
Semiramis had been the one to invite Oregana to begin with.
It was, after all, a natural conclusion.
“Thank you for saying so.”
Oregana’s fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the teacup, moved by Semiramis’s care.
So, when Semiramis asked, her answers were thorough and full of sincerity.
She even began to speak freely about things never asked.
People she had met at each border.
Monsters and beasts left behind with nothing but instinct when no one was present.
Adonis had simply listened quietly, and information flowed in.
It had been of immense help, even if most stories came from the frontier.
The frontier was a rural backwater by central standards, yet it was also the front line.
“…When I saw the seedlings sprouting, I was truly overjoyed. If you only cultivate, the ground will eventually be exposed one day.”
“Quite right. So we prepared land for planting, and we only support until the time comes—reducing the burden.”
People’s work naturally costs money.
Since she knew Adonis, Oregana had done all she could to help the locals there become self-reliant.
There was no other choice.
No matter how much the Continental Church raised its voice, endless giving would eventually exhaust the ground.
That would wound both giver and receiver.
Endless receivers would take it for granted, and givers would grow resentful.
Complaints would follow, so the giver must adjust appropriately.
Helping while guiding people to self-reliance as quickly as possible was one such adjustment.
“Was it not unbearable each time?”
“Huu… As a servant of the goddess, I should not speak such words, but honestly there were times. Yet I also realized that those with wounded hearts can do nothing else. So now I can only say it is truly pitiful.”
Semiramis saw in Oregana’s ability to speak so candidly even after experiencing such base selfishness that she had grown even more admirable.
It was not mere politeness or smooth talk.
The sincere heart that could not be hidden in voice or gesture was what she had seen.
Such character could not be honed; one was born with it.
Semiramis inwardly praised Oregana highly and felt an urgent need to tie their bond.
Such a human was inevitably drawn into great trouble even without intending to, and she predicted that the trouble would be of help.
Oregana was a member of the Continental Church and had accumulated enough virtue to be called saint.
“Oregana. I have a rather blunt request… is it acceptable?”
“Blunt…? I do not know what you mean, but if there is anything I can do, I will.”
She had received such good treatment yesterday and today; refusing out of courtesy as a priestess and as a person was unthinkable.
“Thank you.”
Semiramis bowed her head to Oregana, who accepted the request so readily, then opened her mouth slowly.
“I would like to join your journey for even a short time. Would you allow it?”
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Oregana’s Journey Begins