A Thousand Lies
Elder Priest Anselm of the Demia Temple could not gather his thoughts.
Count Danier, how exactly do you raise your daughter?
It was said that noblewomen proved themselves through silence. Yet Arian Danier did not even seem to know the character for “silence.”
Obedience, silence, modesty—the virtues every noble lady required. What kind of man had she been sent to?
“Do not try to evade me.”
Arian lightly tapped the table. Aaaah, Anselm had no choice but to snap back to attention.
“Forgive me, but I must speak frankly.”
Hadn’t he always spoken frankly before?
“You speak of hidden and clear intentions, yet I have faced monsters in this temple. That monster lived as the son of the earth within the earth’s embrace, hunting humans! What does that mean? Unless the Goddess of Earth approves the monsters, the only possible explanation is the collapse of holiness!”
Arian’s dahlia-red eyes blazed with fierce light. Nearly blood-red.
“Before a holiness weakened enough for monsters to dare challenge it, how can you debate hidden versus clear intentions? What we must do now is elevate the Goddess’s will even higher!”
Arian sprang to her feet and flung her arms wide, voice rising.
“This disciple speaks with fervor!”
Damien nearly clapped in surprise. Over the past few days he had watched Arian peddle lies, but today’s brazenness was on another level entirely.
Looking down at the seated Anselm, she said gravely,
“If you have money or power, you may pretend to be pious. But if you are starving, you eat roots. You use anything you can. Hamilcar, mages, children—all of them!”
Hamilcar. Mages. Children. Anselm wanted to ask why those three were all piled onto one person.
Especially when that one person stood right in front of him, grinning wickedly as she planned to exploit them.
Anselm turned to Demia for confirmation, but she offered no answer. She simply maintained a faint, poker-faced smile as if to say he was on Arian’s side and owed her nothing.
How ridiculous. She claimed loyalty yet was ready to sell the Hamilcar heir for a single coin.
‘And yet…’
For the first time, Anselm felt a flicker of interest. This fallen Danier would do exactly as he wished.
And for some reason, she wanted to spread the teachings of Demia and her followers.
‘If such people truly believed, they would live devout lives.’
If she intended to sell the Hamilcar heir, what could she not do? Even if she crossed a line, she was the Chamberlain’s daughter; her father would protect her.
“To the village… what do you intend to do?”
“First, fix the doors. Then we must let the will of earth and truth shine across the world.”
Demia glanced at the ceiling. She had turned her back on the gods long ago, yet Arian had never even believed in them.
‘But why did this heretic come all the way here?’
The Danier estate lay north of Lid, the royal capital. A beautiful land where the king’s summer palace had been built, rich in every way. Naturally, the temple was well provided for. For priestess training she could have entered any of them easily.
When Demia looked at Arian in bewilderment, Arian stared straight back with sparkling eyes.
“The offer comes every day. I will change the fate of the Demia Temple. Take my hand.”
Demia had never heard such confident words in her life. The world was too tight, life too hard; people always shrank from their own responsibilities. Arian boldly spoke of destiny.
Anselm stared in a daze, then nodded. Aaaah.
Demia smiled faintly. One more victim added.
Huff, heh…
The temple priests lay scattered across the village. Having discarded their priestly dignity, Pythia let out a pitiful “Oh my…”
‘So that’s why she went to the Demia Temple.’
Demia understood. When Arian suggested they descend to the village, Pythia and she could not climb the rugged mountain. They needed carriers.
Pythia and Arian might be light, but the mountain was viciously steep. One was a royal and saintess; the other, the Chamberlain’s daughter learning the ways of the gods. If either slipped, the priests were as good as dead.
They trembled as they carried the priests and the two women down the mountain. Having a litter for patients was a priest’s misfortune.
“Thank you so much,”
“Lord Priest, first go to the inn for dinner. I know a wonderful one.”
Pythia never finished her grateful remark. Arian was already dragging her by the hand. Demia followed, and from behind them the priests whispered,
“That young lady really is the Chamberlain’s daughter?”
“H-huh, isn’t she a monster? Could a monster be pretending to be a young lady? How can that be a human?”
the priests clinging to Anselm. He urged them to keep their dignity; they ignored him. Too exhausted, they simply panted on the ground.
As much as he wanted to side with Arian, her attitude was inhuman. Demia played along for the sake of loyalty and stood beside her.
“The priests’ complaints are fierce. What do you plan to do? You bring them here with empty promises of changing fate, then throw them away like this—how will you answer for the consequences?”
Arian smirked. The boy didn’t understand. Her face was written with that exact thought.
Demia was about to say, “You love making people angry that much, don’t you—”
“Will you eat until your stomachs burst?”
Arian glanced over her shoulder and kept walking. Demia was about to ask how meat could calm the priests when rumbling voices rose from behind.
“Meat?”
“The young lady said ‘meat’ just now?”
“Stomachs bursting?”
“What are you doing, Priest Anselm? You must stand at once!”
They turned. The fallen priests scrambled up, straightened their clothes, and, seeing Anselm still squatting, snapped at him to rise quickly.
Anselm rose with a hollow expression. The priests lined up two by two like soldiers and followed Arian.
And one of Arian’s words spread to others.
“Meat? For real? Until my stomach bursts?”
Pythia’s eyes widened. A faint shadow of sadness crossed Arian’s face as she looked at her. Demia blinked—and the sadness vanished. Arian beamed.
“Of course! We have the donation from the visitor!”
“Ah, but that’s…”
“Don’t worry, Lord Priest. I know how to earn a great deal of money. So—”
“But—”
Pythia grabbed Arian’s arm. She could not claim to be a true royal, yet Arian was different.
Twelve years old soon, facing adulthood and marriage. Trading would ruin her value. Pythia tried to stop her, but Arian patted her hand.
“Don’t worry, Lord Priest. I, Arian, am fulfilling my duty as a Danier descendant. Everything I do serves the Gerka Temple and you, Lord Priest. Therefore this will not harm you.”
“That’s a lie. Arian, you may think the world is yours now because you’re young, but the world—”
“And Demia broke the temple doors.”
Suddenly?
Demia’s mouth fell open. Pythia turned to her and said,
“Ah, no, no, Pythia, I mean, Saintess, I—”
He rushed to explain, but in this situation he could not defeat Arian.
“Therefore we must fix the doors. We need to gather craftsmen and gather money. This is not for Lord Priest’s dignity but for the honor of the Gerka Temple. We have no choice.”
Pythia gazed at Arian silently, then smiled as if about to cry.
“So… we have no choice.”
She hugged Arian tightly.
When Arian and Pythia stopped, Demia did too. The priests behind halted.
Pythia pulled Arian’s small head against her chest and whispered kindly,
“But remember this. If danger comes, say I told you to do it. Understood?”
Arian closed her eyes. She remembered the life Pythia had lost because of the gods.
Yet she felt the saintess’s unwavering kindness—the way she protected her only disciple even now.
“I will.”
Because she was a liar, one more lie for Pythia meant nothing. If telling a thousand lies would ease her heart, Arian would do it without hesitation.
She patted Pythia’s back with her small hand.
The distant sunset bled across the sky.