Chapter 26:
The Villainess Attends the Saint’s Festival
A REPORT ARRIVED, detailing that the deacon had regained consciousness safely and suffered no residual effects from his suicide attempt. Smit’s own position was what had driven him to such desperation; he shouldered too much, and it had drained him completely. He’d overextended himself.
Not only that, but Smit had been isolated from all his fellow faithful, leaving him without anyone he could rely on. The refugees who accompanied him and the locals in the Lindsays’ region knew him only as a deacon, not necessarily as an individual. That had piled on the pressure.
Leaving one’s homeland was akin to shedding the shell they had built over many years and being thrust into a new world completely naked. Smit had the same anxieties as the rest of the refugees.
According to Smit himself, he’d realized in retrospect how much his mental health had spiraled. One sign had been insomnia. He’d assumed it was because he wasn’t trying hard enough and pushed through it. It wasn’t until he was living alone that the temptation crept in and he found himself wanting to end it all.
Smit had since moved to the local monastery and was recovering there, as originally planned. The administration was looking to reconnect the clergy who had traveled from the conflict zone by establishing communication between them. As such, Smit was surrounded by other clergymen who emphasized his mental well-being. They were careful to treat him as an individual rather than a mere servant of the church.
A different deacon replaced Smit to serve the refugee community in the Lindsays’ region, and they had local clergy dispatched alongside them. The director and his staff were paying more attention to the people living alone. They wanted to make sure they hadn’t missed signs of deteriorating mental health in anyone else.
Ultimately, the faithful were in the best position to offer mental health support. Nothing served as a safe harbor quite like religion.
How much can I feasibly learn from them and apply on my own? Could Claudia support those people on an individual basis, like the clergy? Not really, not with her social position.
Then she remembered something: When she was immature and foolish in her previous lifetime, she had felt the most isolated from others. It was through overcoming various challenges with the people in her life that she had made it this far. She couldn’t forget that. When Gique asked her about being A Priori, she had second-guessed her own worthiness. She and everyone else in the region had assumed the church and people’s shared faith would be enough to support them mentally, and they’d fallen behind in their hubris.
Despite the mistakes and the costs, she was certain there was something she could contribute as the saint’s attendant. Even if she couldn’t be the brightest symbol of hope like the saint, she could be the second brightest. Sometimes, blinding light could create deep shadows. There were places where faith alone couldn’t save people, where people needed help from their fellow human beings. She understood that now. With renewed determination, she was ready to face the future.
Claudia stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a nun’s habit for the festival, since she was attending as A Priori. The Lindsay Blue sapphire bracelet dangled from her left wrist, sparkling in the light. She was on standby in a waiting room at the grand cathedral. Through a nearby window, she glimpsed a clear blue sky, the sun shining brilliantly as if blessing this auspicious day.
A knock sounded at the door, and Claudia moved to invite her visitor in.
The silver strands of Sylvester’s hair danced around his head as he slipped inside. As soon as his golden eyes fell on her, he hissed, “Just a little longer.”
It was obvious what he meant. Claudia would continue to be prohibited from contact with the opposite sex until the Saint’s Festival was fully over. The festival would last a week in Harland. The saint would only stay for two days before leaving for Port Brenach and setting sail for Bari.
Sylvester sat on the sofa and stared at Claudia. He had a freshly bloomed iris in his hand, which he twirled to keep himself preoccupied.
Claudia wore a matching pained expression as she nodded in agreement. “I want to feast on meat once this is over.” She hadn’t eaten much meat before this whole ordeal began, so she’d assumed it wouldn’t be difficult to do without. Little did she know that as the months passed, she would begin to long for it—to the point that a medium-rare steak, tender and juicy, was no less tempting than a well-seared one.
“You’re more concerned about what you’re going to eat than being able to touch me?” Sylvester asked incredulously.
“Could you do without meat?”
“Don’t be silly.” Sylvester needed the protein, especially with all his physical training.
“Is it just me, or have my breasts shrunk?” Claudia said absently.
“I’ll order the chef to prepare beef, pork, and chicken the moment this is over!”
He responded so quickly that she burst into a fit of giggles. Claudia felt rather pitiful that she hadn’t been able to maintain her figure, but it was a relief to know she’d have the meat she desired soon enough.
“We shouldn’t be discussing this first thing in the morning,” she said.
“Whyever not? This is a serious problem that we need to resolve immediately!”
“Please don’t stare at my chest as you say that!” she scolded. “And not my rear either, thank you!”
Claudia understood and even appreciated his interest in her body. She could spend a whole night discussing the beauty of the human body, in fact. But she would soon be attending her own Canonization Ceremony, where she would be officially appointed A Priori. Technically, her position was already established within the church. The ceremony was for the wider public.
Regardless, she needed to keep a clean mind.
“Not to change the subject, but I hear the saint’s Canonization Ceremony was a huge affair since they selected someone outside the group of original candidates,” said Claudia.
She hadn’t paid the saint selection much attention since she’d been busy preparing for the refugees. All she’d caught was hearsay. Claudia didn’t even know what the woman looked like. The saint wouldn’t remove her veil until the Saint’s Festival, which was partially what drummed up excitement.
Sylvester’s expression soured. “I wish she’d be more careful with her words when making proclamations.” He wasn’t too pleased about her first address.
The saint hadn’t been wrong, though. Her heart was in the right place when she made her statements. The problem was that it sounded like idealism to the people of the world, who were struggling to make ends meet already. It didn’t help that the church had tossed the problem on its allies’ doorsteps without offering much support. Every country, Harland included, had to scramble to accommodate the sudden flood of refugees.
“What policies did the royal family implement in their regions?” Claudia asked.
“We’re going to offer loans to the lowest-income earners.”
“Oh dear. You’ll be competing with Rose Garden, then.”
He shrugged. “They agreed to the arrangement when we said we’d leave debt collection up to them.”
For those who had no one else they could turn to, crime syndicates typically offered loans with exorbitant interest rates. The loans Sylvester spoke of would be much more affordable and have lower interest. Port Brenach and the other areas under the royal family’s direct control were full of merchants. Offering loans to help refugees set up their own businesses would lead to greater tax revenue in the future. It was a clever policy that fit the unique characteristics of their lands.
“I hear your region is setting up a regional healthcare policy. We received paperwork requesting permission to set up a fund,” said Sylvester.
It had passed without issue, and Duke Lindsay and Virgil were now busy putting it together.
“The difficult part will be getting it up and running, same as your policy.” Claudia was resolved to do whatever she could to help.
When she lifted her gaze, her eyes met his golden ones. They crinkled with his smile, and she found immense comfort in them. She couldn’t look away. Sylvester brought the flower to his lips, as if it were Claudia herself. He kissed the petals, and their trembling mirrored the thudding of her heart. Claudia was torn between the temptation of him and her desire to keep her mind pure.
A voice carried on the spring wind, calling for her. It was time.
With that, they left the waiting room. Sylvester took off first since he was a guest of honor, his feet ferrying him to the entrance of the grand cathedral.
Claudia would be meeting the saint before the public did. Both women would take to the stage together, and the saint would guide her to the cardinal, who would then declare her official appointment.
I wonder what kind of person she is. The rumors said the saint was an incredible person. Claudia pressed her hand to her racing heart and steeled herself as she strode forward, ready to face the future.