A Marble Statue's Logic
Truthfully, when put that way, it did sound absurd. Sentence after sentence was composed of nothing but impossibilities.
A woman from five hundred years ago—claiming to be a Saintess, no less—had supposedly torn down the entrance of a sanctuary sealed beneath a massive boulder, a sacred site no one had ever dared approach, and walked out of it?
It was nonsense a ten-year-old passing in the street wouldn't have believed.
Had the report not been written by Asselin, Asterion would never have contemplated dispatching Jeremiel at all; she would simply have tossed the thing into the fireplace. Honestly, even now, sending Jeremiel was less a matter of honoring the sacred duty of receiving a Saintess than a matter of being unwilling to dismiss the labor behind such a lengthy report.
"Jeremiel, the Saintess is the sacred history of the Order. To impersonate her is to insult and deceive the Order itself—it must be treated as a serious crime. In matters like these, mercy only poisons the well."
Jeremiel, who had been quietly watching Asterion sigh with feigned regret, allowed the corner of his mouth to lift.
Elham was a city not far from the sanctuary, one where temple and parish facilities had settled comparatively well. And parish facilities meant exactly that—everything the Order put to use, including... every facility used for the handling of sinners.
"Understood."
Asterion nodded at the sight of Jeremiel accepting the command entrusted to him with a graceful smile. Just as he seemed about to dismiss her, she hesitated a moment and then spoke.
"If, in your judgment, she is truly a Saintess—"
Which was, of course, unlikely.
"—then she is proof of God's will made manifest. Bring her to the Order."
It was a light parting instruction, carrying no particular expectation.
The crawling pace had felt uneasy for some time, and in the end they never reached the village—camping out for the night was decided.
Since the camp existed only for sleeping, it came together quickly, and Libitina was, as a matter of course, assigned her own tent at a proper remove from everyone else's. Asselin brought her dinner and she ate alone in her quarters, and even the simple matter of washing her face at the nearby stream had to be done under his watchful eye.
With Asselin denying her so much as a sliver of opportunity to speak with anyone else, Libitina's irritation simmered steadily hotter. But every other knight and attendant answered to Asselin's orders; there was nothing to be done.
What attempt could she even make, when anyone whose eyes she met spun their head away as though they'd witnessed a great calamity?
"Are we heading straight to the central Order from here? Or will we stop somewhere to rest?"
"The Order will send an escort to receive you. We're to join them at Elham."
That was a city Libitina knew.
"Is the Tara family still governing it?"
"...That's correct."
Asselin, who had lifted his eyes in surprise, nodded and confirmed it.
"So you know of it."
"It's High Priest Silvanus's home family."
Silvanus Tara was the high-ranking priest who had clashed with Livia again and again. Which meant Libitina, serving at Livia's side, had inevitably crossed paths with him as well—and she had gathered information on him besides. Back then, as one of the Saintess's inner-circle maids, she had gone around listening at doors, ready to ruin Silvanus if the chance ever came. In the end, she never got to use any of it.
Remarkably, Silvanus had volunteered for the subjugation force out of a wish to support Saintess Livia, and had died in the Demonic Cave.
...In truth, he might not have disliked Livia that much at all. If one thought about it now.
Libitina was tracing the face of the stiff-necked middle-aged priest in her memory when, belatedly aware of Asselin's steady stare, she hastily added, "You wouldn't know this, Vice Commander, but High Priest Silvanus was the very first high priest the Tara family ever produced."
"Ah. Yes."
He studied her with unreadable eyes, then withdrew his gaze. Libitina, dissatisfied with his dry response, turned her head away too. No matter how many priests the Order had, surely a man who was both the first high priest from a single house and a member of the Demonic Cave subjugation deserved at least a flicker of respect?
"Then will the Tara family be asked to provide someone to attend me?"
At the casual question, Asselin, who had been facing forward, turned back to her.
"Attend you?"
"Yes. Camping is one thing, but once we reach proper lodgings, I'd like to bathe and put myself back in order."
That was an excuse, of course; the stronger motive was to make contact with someone beyond the reach of Asselin's influence. Ordinary people were far easier to handle than these knights bristling with suspicion, after all. And the part about wanting to bathe was sincere enough.
Given the way Asselin carried on, he'd likely reach Elham and start barking that no one from the Tara family was to approach her—so she had asked in advance. Really, she only wanted an attendant; surely he could grant even that? Libitina was quietly confident that once she got her hands on even a single person bound in hierarchy beneath her, she could make excellent use of them. She had not only been the Saintess's closest personal handmaiden—she had been a superior in her own right, commanding a whole staff of maids.
At her words, Asselin's brow furrowed.
"You can't wash yourself alone?"
The look he gave her was one of sheer incredulity, as if beholding a drooling fool. Having, in the space of a heartbeat, become someone presumed incapable of washing herself, Libitina forced a smile and rebutted gently, "...It's not that I can't. And it isn't only about bathing—"
"Do you know how to dress yourself?"
"Obviously I know how to dress myself. But—"
"If you can wash alone and dress alone, then there's no problem. I will attend to every other matter."
Asselin cut her off flatly, as though there were nothing more to discuss. Libitina stared at him, dumbfounded, then crossed her arms and spoke in a disgruntled voice. "So the Vice Commander intends to attend me himself?"
"As you can see, I'm currently playing the attendant. What's new about that?"
"Playing attendant for a few days is one thing. Attending me is another."
She had brought up attending deliberately, because the word encompassed a whole range of intimate auxiliary duties. But apparently, to Asselin's ears, playing attendant and serving as her personal valet sounded exactly the same.
Libitina pressed a knuckle hard against her temple and was just marshaling her voice into pleasant tones to persuade him again when Asselin narrowed his eyes and asked first, "Is there some reason you must place another at your side?"
"I've just been thrown into a world five hundred years after my own. Shouldn't I be allowed to learn something about it?"
"Ah, yes. Five hundred years ago."
He no longer seemed inclined to hide his disbelief. Libitina didn't have the energy to call out his sneer; she simply bowed her head with an air of resignation.
"I don't believe it myself, so of course you don't either. I won't ask you to. I only want to understand the situation."
"I've already told you. Ask me."
"You don't believe me, Vice Commander, so I don't believe you either."
"Well."
Having murmured this without a trace of regret, Asselin said bluntly, "I'm sorry to be unable to grant you trust. But I am the one responsible for your person right now, and I have no intention of permitting anyone else access to you until some manner of accurate judgment can be made."
"And if I say I need help dressing?"
"Did you not tell me you know how to dress yourself?"
Asselin replied with perfect composure, then added magnanimously, "If you insist that I must be the one to attend you, then I will make the attempt."
"...You are genuinely impossible to talk to."
Why, of all people, did it have to be this man who had saved her before the Demonic Cave? That divine face, which had once seemed so purely like a savior's, now looked like a marble statue doing a poor imitation of a person.
Libitina drew a deep, exasperated breath and was just opening her lips to vent her frustration when her gaze snapped toward something, somewhere. Asselin made a puzzled face at her sudden movement, but Libitina's attention was fixed entirely elsewhere.
She could feel it—a viscous, clinging energy fastening itself to her skin. She knew this feeling already.
Because she had felt it in the Demonic Cave.