The Saintess, Clarice
“Shut it. I'm not betting with you.”
I coldly rejected the wager Elysia had proposed. If I so much as indulged her once, I knew I'd tumble straight into an endless betting hell—so cutting her off firmly, right here and now, was essential.
“Tch, what a shame.”
“Don't be. I wasn't going to play along anyway.”
“Then how about you, handsome stranger over there?”
The moment I refused, Elysia switched targets in an instant.
Her prey: Cassian. Apparently she'd instinctively marked out the one who looked easiest to take advantage of.
No, hold on—what kind of hag her age goes around shamelessly cooing at men like that?
“Hey, Elysia. Don't mess with my order's people for no reason. Go back to your own carriage.”
“Oh my? Are you jealous? Could it be this handsome man is your boyfriend, Trixie?”
“You wanna die? Cut the crap.”
What kind of lunatic nonsense was this woman spouting? Even if heaven and earth flipped upside down, there was no universe in which I'd date a chump like him.
“Hm~? But Trixie, youuu...”
Elysia dragged out her words, studying me with a suspiciously meaningful look.
“Something about you feels... different?”
“What?”
“Hmm... hard to put into words. It's like... eh, never mind, I can't figure it out.”
“...If you're just going to spout nonsense, can you please get lost? Can't you see the Nike order's knights pacing around over there, dying of impatience?”
“Oh! Right, got it. Our Trixie has gotten positively girlish, hasn't she? When did the rough-and-tumble tomboy turn into such a mushy little maiden?”
Agh, this crazy long-eared bitch. As always, not one word I said reached her ears.
Talking to her felt like talking to a wall, and heat crawled up my neck. Actually, no—walls don't fire back with infuriating answers, so maybe the wall would be an improvement.
“Hm~? Now why could that be? Normally you'd be cursing me out on the spot, or charging at me with Astra in hand.”
I did curse you out. You just didn't catch it. And if I weren't injured right now, I'd have run you through with Astra ages ago.
Ha, honestly. How was I supposed to get rid of her?
Running into this deranged gambling addict at the very entrance to the capital gave me a grim premonition that this Council of the Seven Thrones was going to spawn more headaches than any before it.
...Ah, fuck. Why does this always happen when my body's at its worst?
“Hey. Get off.”
I forced the bad feeling down and said it flatly.
“Aww, that's so mean.”
“Turn on the charm all you want—it doesn't work on me. Off.”
“Tch, prickly as ever.”
Elysia made a show of climbing down, then seized the instant I let my guard slip and wedged herself in right beside me.
“...Hey! What do you think you're doing!”
Unlike my usual self, I had no strength to spare, and I was helplessly shoved aside, forced to give up my seat.
Fine. That was annoying, but tolerable. The real problem was that this carriage's driver's bench was built for two.
Three people squeezed onto it was always going to be a tight fit.
Shoved out of my place, I inevitably ended up pressed against Cassian—and at the clammy, skin-crawling sensation of it, I shuddered violently in revulsion.
When I convulsed like I'd touched some disgusting insect, Cassian made a strangely wounded face, but whatever...
You can stand to have your feelings hurt a little, buddy.
“Hm~? The bench is a bit cramped? Why'd you come all this way in such a shabby carriage?”
“Don't you dare badmouth the carriage. The people of Lumina Village arranged it for us.”
“Trixie, why don't you just sit in unnie's lap?”
Oh, for the love of—would it kill you to listen to me for once, instead of only running your own mouth?
Of course, it was obvious she'd just keep talking regardless. So rather than waste the energy, I let out a soul-deep sigh and shook my head.
“No. Get lost. I'm going inside the carriage.”
If she was going to ignore me, then I'd ignore her right back. Simple: climb inside and rest. With that thought, I pushed myself up.
But—
“Hrgk—!”
Something wrapped around my waist, and my body lurched backward. When I came to my senses, I was somehow seated on Elysia's lap, cradled in her arms.
The humiliation of having been reduced to a child's comfort doll set my face ablaze in an instant.
“Hey! Let go of me!”
“Hm~... what's this, Trixie? How did you get so cute since I last saw you? Hm? Wanna be unnie's little sister?”
“No! I said let go!”
I thrashed and squirmed for all I was worth, but Elysia was, unfortunately, in a league of her own when it came to strength, and I couldn't break free.
Elysia, like me, was one of the rare saintesses who fought on the very front lines. And while I stood around five and a half feet, Elysia pushed five foot ten—a frame that didn't yield to most grown men, making the strength gap between us far more than negligible.
...I was honestly jealous, you know.
Tall, too. Unlike me, whose muscles refused to grow no matter how I trained, she had a beautifully proportioned, athletic build. On top of that, her chest was smaller than mine, so it got in her way less when she moved.
...Huh? Wait.
“...Trixie? Why are you making a rather unsettling face?”
“Hmph. Nothing.”
What was this? Having a big chest was nothing but a nuisance. Why was I feeling such a strange, smug little victory right now?
The question crossed my mind, but for some reason I couldn't stop the snickers leaking out of me.
“That's the face of someone having very bad thoughts, Trixie!”
“It is not!”
“Then as punishment, I'm going to hug you suuuuper tight.”
“Hey! Hold on a second!”
Elysia's words snapped me awake like a bucket of cold water. No. If this absurdly strong lunatic actually hugged me right now, I was going to die.
“W-wait... I'm injur—!”
But before I could get the words out, Elysia crushed me into her embrace.
“Khhgaah...!”
White-hot pain flashed before my eyes, and tears sprang out. Because this madwoman's crushing grip around my waist had just aggravated my wounds.
Left alone, they were bearable. But pressed hard and held like that? That was another story entirely. It wasn't quite as bad as the whip lashes, but pain amounting to a quarter of those came flooding in all at once.
“Hyehk...! Kyaaaak!”
“Hm~? What's gotten into you? You're even letting out a scream that's adorable, honestly?”
“Let...! Go! You crazy bitch...!”
“Aww~ how cute. Wanna come play a betting game with unnie?”
“I'm injured, you damned woman!”
I screamed through the pain with everything I had—and at last, the arms locked around my waist slackened.
“Hm~? You're hurt?”
“Haa... haa... hah...”
...I-I survived.
Having felt my life flash before my eyes, I gasped for breath, then glared at Elysia through tear-flooded eyes.
“Ahh, unnie's sorry. Sooo, however did you get hurt?”
“Not that I have any intention of telling you. If you're dying to know, ask at the council session.”
“Aww, so prickly. Is that how you got this cute—by getting hurt?”
Elysia giggled. She looked so infuriating that I sprang up on the spot and drove the crown of my skull into her chin with everything I had.
Thud—!
“Gwak!”
Pain shot through the top of my head, and I clutched it, rubbing. Agh, what the hell was her jaw made of, solid rock? No wonder they called her a tank.
Contrary to my intentions, Elysia was perfectly fine, while my own crown was the only thing left swelling up in agony.
“You, seriously... just you wait until I'm healed.”
Watching her stand there unharmed made my blood boil, but sadly, all I could manage at the moment was growling out threats.
“Do you know that saying? 'Just you wait' never scared anyone.”
“Shut it.”
“Fufu, I'll be looking forward to it~?”
“Sure. Look forward to it all you want!”
“I'll be off, then. Any longer and I get the feeling I'll earn myself an earful.”
Elysia gently set me back down on the driver's bench and vaulted lightly to the ground.
Whew. Finally leaving, damned woman.
I breezily ignored her parting wave and let out a sigh.
But then, halfway to her own carriage, Elysia stopped, turned on her heel, and came back toward us.
Argh. Why. Why is she coming back?
“Wanna bet with unnie on whether I'll get that earful or not?”
“......”
“I've got my money on yes.”
“Enough! Get lost, you lunatic!”
In the end, I couldn't help but yell at the top of my lungs.
Once the whole ruckus had blown over, I slumped against the driver's bench and groaned. I'd worked myself up so much that my wounds were throbbing in time with my heartbeat.
...Ah, this is exhausting, truly.
The one mercy was that, going by Elysia's words, the other orders besides Justitia and Nike hadn't arrived yet. I had to get treated by Clarice fast—before the rest of those lunatics reached Septimoa. At this rate, sheer stress alone might fester my wounds and kill me.
“Hey, Cassian.”
Letting out a long sigh, I poked him in the side.
“Yes, Lady Saintess?”
“You saw that, right?”
“Which part do you mean?”
“That the Saintess of the Nike order is a certified lunatic.”
“......”
Cassian, unable to bring himself to answer, clamped his mouth shut.
Well, fine. I understood. It would be hard to agree with me badmouthing another order's saintess. But he must have noticed it too—that every last one of these saintesses was out of her goddamn mind. (Excluding me. Ah, and Clarice.)
“That much was tame, honestly. There are worse ones.”
“Is... th-that so.”
This punk—why were his answers so evasive? I wasn't satisfied, but... well, at least the warning had landed.
We passed through the outermost wall, the Third Gwak, and headed inward.
“I expected a city built into a mountain to be full of stairs, but it seems that isn't quite the case?”
Cassian offered his impressions as he looked around at the city.
“I heard they carved the mountain itself to build it. The dwarves apparently suffered plenty in the process.”
I'd heard the dwarves' contribution to this city's construction was immense. They cut a treacherous mountain down to raise a city, erected its colossal defensive walls, spanned cliff to cliff with soaring bridges, and even designed the water supply, drainage, and irrigation systems to perfection.
Seeing all this, I could finally understand why dwarves insisted that no race alive could rival their craftsmanship.
“The dwarves must have had a hard time of it.”
“What's with the weird sympathy? Dwarves are the kind of creatures who'd leap straight out of their graves if you told them something needed building.”
Announce a grand, colossal city needed constructing, and they'd have positively scrambled over one another screaming, “Let me do it!” Honestly, I couldn't fathom loving that kind of thankless, backbreaking labor.
“Oh? Another wall?”
“Right. The one we just came through is the Third Gwak, and this is the Second. Most of Septimoa's citizens live within the Third Gwak, the temples and their priests occupy the Second—and beyond the Second stands Septimoa's inner citadel.”
Cassian, looking endlessly curious, kept asking this and that. I answered without really thinking, and somewhere along the way I started feeling like a hired tour guide.
Wait—why was I indulging this guy's curiosity, exactly? The thought struck me out of nowhere.
“And also—”
“Hey, stop asking. I'm tired too.”
When I cut off his stream of questions, Cassian made a sulky face. If he were some devastating beauty it might have worked on me, but coming from a man, that look did nothing.
With that, the carriage passed through the Second Gwak and entered the heart of the city. The moment we arrived at the gate, the old man announced he had to go report to the Chairman and took off. Normally I would have accompanied him, but given my condition I'd decided to sit it out—the details could wait for the council session anyway.
What remained on my list was simple: unpack in my room, lie down and rest a while, then go find Clarice and ask for treatment.
...Except my plan to rest creaked apart from the very first step—because Clarice was standing squarely in front of my assigned room.
“Trixie unnie!”
“Hm? Clarice, it's been a while. You been well?”
The moment she spotted me, she came scurrying over. Normally she'd have thrown her arms around me in a hug, but she must have already heard I'd been hurt; instead, Clarice studied my condition with a worried look.
“I heard you were badly injured.”
“Yeah, it's nothing, so don't worry. Honestly, the old man made a huge fuss over it. I'll heal up fine even without your treatment, Clarice.”
At my words, Clarice's expression stiffened ever so slightly. An inexplicable wave of pressure made me flinch and shuffle backward without meaning to.
“It's nothing, you say?”
Ah. Right.
Clarice despised patients who put on false bravado. And no wonder—hide your wounds behind a tough front, and an easily treated injury can fester, or in the worst case kill you.
“...Yeah.”
“If your wounds truly aren't serious, then did Archbishop Bartholomew really send a carrier pigeon all this way in such a frantic hurry?”
...Ah. No. Actually, it wasn't a light injury at all. If I were being strict, it fell squarely on the serious side.
It hurts like hell, I might actually die, treat me right now.
...Not exactly something I could come out and say, was it?
“I heard you were wounded by demonic magic. Every moment counts, so you're coming with me to the healing chamber this instant. Understood?”
“...Understood.”
Clarice's voice returned to its usual warmth, sweet and gentle. ...If I pushed back any further, I knew I'd be in for a truly spectacular scolding, so I nodded, meek as a lamb.
And so, wrist seized in Clarice's grip, I was hauled off to the healing chamber whether I liked it or not.