“I am glad to see you’re doing well, Goddess Teoritta,” Yurisa replied awkwardly, gradually regaining fluency. It felt as if she’d practiced this conversation many times over. “We… We will be fighting together during the spring offensive—Mission Ragi Enseglef. I will be counting on you and your penal heroes.”
“Yes, it seems we will be fighting alongside your unit. We will do everything in our power to win.” Teoritta’s words came out somewhat spiteful, but it was too late to worry about that now. Instead, she boldly declared, “My knight Xylo and my penal heroes cannot lose, so you may count on us as much as you would like!”
“…Yes, I will. And I shall do my best to match your efforts.” Yurisa’s tone was almost challenging, and the tips of her hair seemed to crackle and spark. Perhaps it wasn’t just Teoritta’s imagination, either, as she felt her own hair sparking as well.
But Yurisa quickly reassumed a blank expression and took in a deep, measured breath. “At any rate, I was not expecting to run into you here. Did you come to watch the election?”
“Y-yes!” Teoritta puffed out her chest. “It is my duty as a goddess to watch over the divine election! Is that why you are here as well?”
“No, I…” Yurisa walked through the crowd as she spoke, then ascended the stage. “I came to endorse an acquaintance of mine who is running for archpriest: High Priest Mirose.”
“What?!” exclaimed Teoritta.
“E-excuse me?” Patausche was even more shocked than the goddess. “Y-you’re giving a speech to endorse a candidate as the Saint? Is that even allowed?”
Patausche’s agitation caused a brief flash of worry in Yurisa’s eyes. “Is that bad—? Ahem, I mean, do you have an issue with that?”
“Of course I do! A figure as important as the Saint…giving an endorsement…must be against the rules…right?”
“There is no regulation that states the Saint cannot give endorsements,” her bodyguard responded calmly. She fixed a wary gaze on Patausche. It seemed tinged with something akin to disgust. “The only ones prohibited from directly supporting a candidate are Holy Knights and their goddesses. Saints are outside the scope of the regulations,” she added smoothly, before giving Yurisa an encouraging nod. “Saint Yurisa wishes to endorse High Priest Mirose, who is connected to the priest from her hometown. The late grand priest, Bortalas, was also very supportive of High Priest Mirose. Is there a problem with that?”
“Th-that…kind of seems like a stretch…”
Patausche was struggling, clearly inexperienced at this kind of verbal sparring. And so Teoritta decided it was time for her to boldly chime in.
“Th-then…!”
She spoke up almost on reflex, driven by a profound yearning to prove her worth. Since arriving in the First Capital, she had felt sidelined, as if she was contributing almost nothing of importance, and that frustrated her. It was this sting of humiliation that propelled her forward, igniting this instinctive response. Perhaps it was an even more primal impulse, part of her divine nature—a visceral need to demonstrate her value when confronted with a being so eerily similar to herself.
Perhaps it was a selfish, twisted desire. But Teoritta didn’t care what others thought. She, and she alone, would decide if her wishes were right or wrong. And so she boldly declared:
“I—I shall give a speech to endorse a candidate as well!”
The instant they heard those words, Yurisa Kidafreny’s face stiffened, and her bodyguard frowned. Even Patausche seemed flustered.
“You cannot, Goddess Teoritta!” she said. “Y-you’re a goddess, so it’s prohibited.”
“This woman claimed that it was prohibited for the goddesses of Holy Knights to endorse candidates. But I am not a member of the Holy Knights!”
“Huh?! Well, uh… Yes, that’s true… But…” Patausche seemed to be desperately searching for the right words to stop her, but she wasn’t having much luck. “I suppose…you would be the exception, then. Hmm? One moment, please! I need to check the rules! Um… According to the regulations…”
Patausche pressed her fingers to her forehead, as if sifting through her memories. It seemed she had the rules memorized. Meanwhile, Yurisa and her bodyguard exchanged bewildered glances, while Teoritta alone basked in a warm, radiant sense of satisfaction.
“Heh! It appears we are equals under the regulations,” she declared, “so I am going to give a speech, too. I have been wanting to settle things with you. Is that okay, Patausche?”
The goddess smugly puffed out her chest. Finally, her moment to shine had arrived. It was time for her to carry out her role as goddess, and she was going to do all she could within the bounds of the rules. However…
“…Goddess Teoritta, wait!” shouted Patausche.
“What is it? You cannot stop me! There are no rules prohibiting my endorsement, correct?”
“It’s not that! It’s…”
Patausche’s finger was at the back of her neck, brushing against the sacred seal there—the sign of her status as a penal hero. Teoritta could hardly believe it, but then Patausche confirmed her suspicions.
“…It’s from Xylo,” she whispered. “He is contacting me through my seal. It sounds like an emergency…he needs our help.”
Teoritta couldn’t believe her ears. “Xylo…needs our help…?”
“Yes.” This was really happening. Patausche put her finger back against the seal on her neck. “He wants us to come to a specific location… Where are you? Ugh! I can hardly hear you through the static! Speak more clearly, you buffoon!” she shouted.
They seemed to have a bad connection, suggesting Xylo and Tsav still might be in the underground fortress.
Xylo needs my help.
Teoritta immediately grabbed Patausche by the arm. “Patausche, come. We must hurry.”
She still wanted to give her speech supporting Ibuton, but such an opportunity to help her knight was exceedingly rare. Xylo had admitted he needed her help. It felt as though they were finally beginning to function as a team—just as a knight and his goddess should. She had been waiting for this moment for so long.
All right, Xylo. If you need my help, then you need only wait. I am coming to save you.
Teoritta barely managed to hold back a smile. In his time of peril, her knight had chosen to rely on her. It seemed he’d finally realized that she was the only one he could truly count on.
“If my knight desires my help…” Teoritta began to pull Patausche along after her, rushing off without the slightest hesitation. “Then I must save him at any cost. Is that all right with you, Patausche?”
“Y-yes, of course. But…” Patausche looked at Yurisa, and Teoritta followed her gaze.
“I apologize, Yurisa,” she said, “but my troublemaking knight needs me.” It sounded almost like she was declaring her victory. She, unlike Yurisa, had a knight who depended on her. “We can settle this some other time! Until then!”
Teoritta jumped down from the stage and ran through the crowd. Behind her, Yurisa watched, clenching her fists.
“…Tevi, what just happened?” For some reason, she felt utterly taken aback. It was as if she had been left behind.
“I have no idea.” Tevi, her bodyguard, seemed genuinely confused as well. “It appears something happened to the penal heroes, but I am not sure what.”
“I heard her say the name ‘Xylo.’ Isn’t that her knight?”
“Yes, I heard that as well.”
“Did something happen? A riot, maybe? Perhaps someone is using the festival to stage an attack…”
“I highly doubt it. Even if something were to happen, the military would simply send the penal heroes to stop it.” Tevi was completely calm as she placed a hand on Yurisa’s shoulder. “You must relax and focus on what you came here to do. You need to give a speech endorsing High Priest Mirose, yes? Oh, look. She’s here.”
“Ah.”
Yurisa glanced toward the edge of the plaza, where she found High Priest Mirose. Adorned in the formal vestments of her sacred office, her white hair gathered into a pristine bun, she seemed to embody serenity itself.
Yurisa had met her before, back when she was under the care of the priest in her hometown. High Priest Mirose had come to visit while patrolling through the local territories, listening to the candid opinions of the believers. The woman carried herself with exceptional poise, spoke without affectation, and possessed deep wisdom. Upon discovering Yurisa’s stigma, though startled by its presence, she had assured her it was an extraordinarily rare and valuable gift.
The high priest suddenly looked toward Yurisa, and their eyes met across the plaza. Mirose lifted a hand and waved warmly at her. Yurisa almost waved back but caught herself and nodded instead. She was the Saint, after all, and she must always maintain impeccable bearing.
This is fine, Yurisa told herself. I am doing the right thing.