The Saintess's Miracle
“Ah!”
With a patter of footsteps, Yurina came running and snuggled right into my arms. A sweet fragrance muddled my senses. Flustered, I glanced down.
“Y-Yurina.”
“Hehe.”
Yurina didn’t look it, but she was surprisingly strong. She hugged me tight and wouldn’t let go. In my place, Illein stepped in to gently restrain her.
“Lady Yurina. The young duchess is troubled.”
“Oh, sorry!”
“I-It’s fine.”
For some reason, Illein was starting to feel less like a sub-male lead and more like a nanny. I glanced at him—he seemed even more worn down than before—then turned back to Yurina.
“What brings you all the way out here?”
“Of course I came because I was worried about you, Lady Abigail!”
“Hmm……”
I’d thought Yurina wouldn’t come north until later. In the original story, it was after two major battles that she stormed out of the temple.
After learning of the monster invasion at the ball, Yurina had wanted to head straight north to help the crown prince. Not because she’d fallen for him at first sight, but purely out of a saintess’s desire to save people. But those who cherished her kept blocking the dispatch orders, and when the high priest finally decided to go in her place, she couldn’t take it anymore and slipped out of the temple in secret.
With Illein at her side.
And……
“Th-that person over there…?”
I had a pretty good idea who he was, but I played dumb and asked anyway.
“Hmph.”
The man in the turban snorted at my gaze.
Yep. That rude attitude.
The ally who’d helped with Yurina’s journey north—a fairly important side character in the original.
“He’s the mage who’s been helping us!”
“A mage?”
When I feigned interest, he opened his mouth like it couldn’t be helped.
“Just a wandering mage riffraff.”
“Hm.”
Of course, he wasn’t just any mage. To be precise, he was a spirit summoner. His clan was blessed with mana, so they had talent for magic, but their true power lay with spirits.
“Pleased to meet you. I am……”
“I know. Lady Abigail Carpoem, young duchess.”
He eyed me up and down with a sullen expression.
“Whoa, no joke.”
“…Huh?”
His mutter was too quiet to catch. When I gave him a puzzled look, Yurina jumped in.
“Sian! Don’t be rude to Lady Abigail.”
“Tch.”
The wandering mage Sian. He was passing himself off that way for now, but he was no ordinary drifter. That exotic turban on his head was from the Kingdom of Urgen, a small nation to the west with a mild climate. Among the kingdoms left on the western continent, it held the most power.
They carried the blood of ancient elves, blessed with mana. That produced many exceptional mages, and especially among the royals—who inherited the elven blood most purely—great spirit summoners were born.
Sian was one of them. His real name was Cassian Urgen, third prince of Urgen.
“I’m fine. It doesn’t bother me at all.”
“Still……”
I knew about Sian’s prickly personality from reading the original. But seeing all these people who’d eventually side with the crown prince starting to gather left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Sian was one of the key side characters. The one who’d be saved by the crown prince’s miracle drug, then repay the favor by helping make Urgen a staunch ally of the empire. He’d play a big role in the crown prince’s rise as the continent’s perfect overlord.
A complicated character for me, though.
“Let me apologize on his behalf, Lady Abigail.”
“No, he said it’s fine.”
The crown prince aside, I was grateful to him for helping Yurina. Otherwise, she and Illein would’ve suffered greatly in the harsh north.
The runaway third prince had run into Yurina’s group while wandering the south, and after various events, they’d come north together. Her trip was a bit rushed, but the original plot was progressing steadily.
I was impressed.
“But Lady Abigail, is something wrong?”
“Huh?”
Yurina frowned and scanned me head to toe.
“I sense an ominous aura around you.”
“Ah.”
I’d just come from tending to soldiers infected with the plague. There was only the faintest trace of toxin left, but as a saintess, Yurina had sniffed it out like a ghost.
I’d originally planned to ask the temple priest who’d come in her place for help. But right in front of me was someone far superior: Saintess Yurina herself. With her powers, she could surely heal the soldiers.
“Yurina, actually……”
She listened gravely to my explanation of the plague, then nodded readily.
“I’ll help!”
“Lady Yurina!”
Illein tried to stop her, but she ignored him as usual.
“It’s only natural for me, as the saintess.”
Thumping her chest confidently, she looked utterly reliable. I hurried her inside the base.
* * *
Yurina stood quietly in the center of the ward. Amid the groaning soldiers, she clasped her hands devoutly and began chanting a prayer in a soft voice.
“O Lumine, god of light and mercy……”
Her clear voice enveloped the room. Sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to linger especially around her. Everyone watching couldn’t help but gaze at her with reverence.
“Have pity on these souls.”
It wasn’t an illusion—the light was gathering around her. Soon, a pure, dazzling white radiance poured forth from her body.
“Ugh……”
“Hah, haa……”
The white light spread through the air, slowly descending over the infected soldiers. Everyone in the ward held their breath, watching the miracle unfold.
The soldiers enveloped in light suddenly stopped groaning. Those burning with fever, those retching endlessly, those writhing in agony from wounds—all lifted their heads in bewilderment.
Not only the poison, but even their wounds had vanished cleanly.
Returning to full health in an instant, the soldiers rose from their beds one by one.
“The saintess……”
“It’s the saintess.”
“She saved us.”
Murmuring at first, they gathered around her, voices rising in excitement as they offered thanks.
“Thank you so much.”
“Thank you for saving us, Saintess!”
“Long live the Saintess!”
Faced with the outpouring of praise, Yurina stood calmly.
“It is all by Lumine’s will.”
She humbled herself, insisting she was merely the god’s servant. But those who’d witnessed the miracle firsthand were thrilled.
Word spread quickly: the saintess had come north in person to heal the sick. The north was further emboldened, while the southern temple viewed it with dismay.
* * *
Pope Julius El Ridan of the Lumine Church examined the letter with a troubled expression.
“Hoo……”
He rubbed his furrowed brow, his face weary. He looked like a young boy, but an air of an exhausted old man overlaid him.
“Sir Illein, even you……”
Julius felt the sting of betrayal from Illein, the church’s first sword, whom he’d trusted. While others gazed at the great Lumine Temple with respect, Julius at its pinnacle felt like the director of a daycare for unruly children.
And lately, the stress was only mounting.
“Hahaha, this saintess is truly entertaining.”
Vincent, the high priest, burst into clear laughter, waving the letter in front of Julius.
Julius, hand on his forehead, let out another heavy sigh.
“Hah, enough.”
“Oh, my apologies, Your Holiness.”
Vincent set the letter down, grinning. He hadn’t expected her to defy the pope and bolt from the temple, so laughter kept slipping out despite himself.
Julius treated her like a disaster, but Vincent saw it differently. Her wild energy matched his own perfectly.
“Shall I go fetch her?”
“…You?”
Julius eyed Vincent suspiciously. Far from retrieving her, he worried they’d just cause more mischief in the north. Knowing their personalities well, concern flooded him first.
“A protest came from the imperial family too.”
Vincent snickered, setting down the document stamped with the Rampas Emperor’s seal. The contents were obvious without reading: complaining that the saintess had gone north on her own to heal the sick, before any official dispatch request.
The current emperor was cautious at best, cowardly at worst. Wary of the north allying with the Magic Tower or temple, yet eager for scraps—a timid opportunist. Unavoidable in the empire’s state, but distasteful from the temple’s view.
“Or how about this, Your Holiness?”
“……?”
Julius lifted his tired face to Vincent, dark circles under his eyes. Vincent spoke in a sly tone.
“Let’s dispatch the holy knights and priests before the imperial family even asks.”
“What?”
Julius’s eyes widened in shock. Wasn’t that openly defying the palace? An official dispatch wasn’t child’s play.
“High Priest, this isn’t the same as our annual monster subjugation.”
The temple sent holy knights north yearly to aid against monsters—a act of charity to protect the empire.
But Vincent tilted his head.
“What’s the difference?”
“What?”
“There is none. With monsters showing signs of a full invasion, we have every reason to act. The greater good is clear.”
“Hm.”
Julius tilted his head at Vincent’s unexpected point. The temple’s public doctrine was safeguarding the empire’s people. Even with northern autonomy, they were imperial subjects under the temple’s protection.
Vincent had a point.
“Indeed.”
“It’s a chance to advance into the north, where we’ve struggled against imperial scrutiny.”
“Hm.”
The north had long been isolated from the south. They revered dragons over gods, seen as barbaric. If the saintess and holy knights shone there now, missionary work would ease.
“Very well.”
Julius nodded in agreement.
“High Priest, you’ll take responsibility and lead the Seynel Knights and priests north.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
Vincent bowed gracefully, smirking with hidden intent that Julius didn’t notice.
As Vincent retreated, Julius’s gaze shifted to another letter: one from Duke Carpoem.
“In the end, things went as he intended.”
Good or a setback? It was still unclear.
A faint sigh escaped Julius’s lips once more.