“Wah! What’s that?!”
Shaken by a huge earthquake, Neme Pargin shot to her feet in her room. Visril lay in a mountainous region known for seismic activity, but she’d never felt anything of this magnitude before. She went to her door to see what was going on. There were priests posted just outside to prevent her from escaping, but they were all similarly bewildered.
“Now’s my chance— Ack!”
Neme tried to use the opportunity to run, but she tripped amid all the shaking. Of course, the priests caught her and immediately returned her to her room.
“So much for that...”
Her shoulders slumped in disappointment, but she could hear something going on outside. Guards were running around in a fuss. She tried eavesdropping by pressing her ear to the door, and eventually, Arcia appeared. Neme laid into her immediately.
“What’s going on?!” she demanded.
“I don’t know. Your friends came for you, but two fled the city, two vanished, and two activated the fortress core. Everything’s a mess now.”
Arcia seemed to be flustered herself, as she was now talking to Neme like old times. Her tone aside, however, Neme found something rather strange about what Arcia had just reported.
“How come there’s an extra person?!”
“That’s what you’re concerned about?! I just told you that your friends activated the fortress!”
“Oh, the fortress... What?!” Neme lived in her own world, but as a Visril native, even she understood the gravity of the centuries-old artifact awakening. Her voice grew shrill as she asked, “Wh-What happens now?!”
“I don’t know the answer to that. This has never happened before, so the whole church is in a panic. For now, I have to mobilize the soldiers and get to the bottom of things. That’s why I came here, but...what am I supposed to do? Cardinal Fuge is out of town right now because he went after your friends that fled...”
“Sounds rough.”
“It’s all your fault... How can you sound so detached about it?”
“Neme didn’t do anything! It’s not my fault at all!”
“I doubt that...” Arcia pressed a hand against her forehead, holding back the headache Neme’s argument inspired. “Nothing good happens when you’re involved.”
“That’s so mean!”
“But it’s the truth. Even at the presentation ceremony...”
Neme hadn’t expected Arcia to be the one to bring that up. She gulped, her breath caught in her throat.
“You always acted so unmotivated,” Arcia continued, “yet you had the nerve to go and take Saint’s Authority. Worse, the moment you did, you ran away and eschewed the sainthood for a life of adventuring. Just how much must you insult the rest of us before you’re satisfied?”
“That wasn’t Neme’s intention...”
Finally, Neme realized that was how Arcia saw things. A piercing pain seized her heart. Neme had never desired Saint’s Authority. God had given it to her as some kind of joke. But Arcia didn’t understand that.
“Neme doesn’t want to be the saint...”
“Then why do you have Saint’s Authority?!”
“That’s what Neme wants to know! It has to be a mistake! You were supposed to get it!”
Arcia slammed her palms against the desk loudly, yelling, “What?! If this is some pitying act, then stop it already! It only makes me feel worse!”
Arcia really had changed. She never would’ve gotten angry enough to yell before. She was always gentle when she spoke to Neme. She’d changed—and it was Neme’s fault. It was all because she’d gotten the wrong skill. As Neme wallowed in guilt over it...
“Oh? Are you two in the middle of something?” asked someone from the doorway.
Neme looked up to see a girl in a priestess’s garb poking her head inside.
“Long time no see, Neme!” the girl greeted her, stepping into the room with a smile.
Neme froze in place, an odd expression on her face.
“It’s me! You know, me! Do you remember?” the girl asked.
“What...? Are you some kind of scammer?” Neme remarked in disbelief.
“No! I’m Fran! Don’t tell me you forgot me!”
“Flan?”
“Why are you acting so clueless?! Did you really forget? You always sat next to me at dinner and stole my dessert! We even shared a room! After you left, the nuns found all your books under my bed. It was a huge ordeal for me!”
“Oh, I remember now! You were my roomie, Francois!”
“No ‘cois’! It’s just Fran! You totally forgot, didn’t you?!”
“Neme isn’t the kind of woman to cling to the past...”
“You really should remember Fran, Neme,” scolded Arcia. Even she was offended on Fran’s behalf. That aside, Fran’s appearance had helped her collect herself. “So what are you here for, Fran? I’m having an important discussion with Neme right now.”
“Don’t look so scary, Arcie. Do I need a reason to come visit an old friend? It’s almost like a mini class reunion.”
“Save the nostalgia for later. I’m busy right now.”
“There might not be a later. Neme’s friends are already here. We won’t be able to talk if she goes away again.” Fran continued smiling cheerfully under Arcia’s stern glare.
Arcia folded her arms in irritation. “That’s why I’m watching her so that she doesn’t escape. Don’t get in my way.”
“Sorry. One of the reasons I’m here is to bust Neme out, after all.”
“Wuh?” Neme was taken aback by this news.
Arcia zeroed in on it too. “Do you realize what you’re saying? That would mean opposing both the acting saint and Cardinal Fuge.”
“Well, I’m the pope’s granddaughter. I’m sure Gramps will overlook a little selfishness on my part if I ask him nicely.”
“That’s right... You were the irregular saint candidate left in the church’s care despite being the pope’s grandchild.”
“Honestly, this won’t be my first time helping her escape either.”
“So it was you. Neme couldn’t have fled the church alone, so I always knew she had an accomplice,” Arcia muttered. She then turned to Neme. “How could you forget the benefactor who helped you leave Visril?”
“No comment.”
Back then, Neme had been so preoccupied with Saint’s Authority and Arcia that nearly everything else was a blur. The fact that her memories of Fran from before then were fuzzy too...was a matter to be addressed a different time.
“As for you, Fran, why would you again help the ingrate who forgot about you?”
“Hmm, I wonder. If I had to say, I guess it’s because I’m a fan of Neme’s.”
“You’re a ‘fan’ of someone who puts in no effort, achieves sainthood by pure luck, then runs away from it without fulfilling her duty?”
Harsh as it was, Arcia was right on the mark. Neme had never demonstrated any drive to become the saint. She’d simply acquired the skill by chance. There was nothing admirable about it, and Neme knew that as well as anyone.