Chapter 52:
Crisis Part 2
“WHY, IF IT ISN’T THE SAINT from the other day. To think we would meet again.”
A shiver ran up my spine at the sound of that kind voice. Oh no! He’s finally found me! I prepared to dash away, but a hand caught my arm.
“Oh, don’t be so cold. Won’t you be so kind as to grace this lowly knight with your divine presence?”
“Wh-what? A captain like you shouldn’t be saying that…” Realizing I couldn’t escape, I forced a smile and slowly turned around.
Cyril, Captain of the First Knight Brigade, stood before me wearing a far more cheerful smile than I expected.
This is bad, this is bad! He’s absolutely livid! I’d known Cyril long enough to know I was in deep, deep trouble.
Smiling as gently as I could, I pointed out his error. “Captain Cyril, I couldn’t help but notice you called me a saint, but as you can see for yourself, I am none other than your loyal subordinate Fia, clad in what is unmistakably a knight’s uniform.”
Cyril lifted an eyebrow in doubt, but I suppressed my desire to flee, boldly meeting his gaze and intent on winning this standoff.
Just the other day, Cyril spotted me in town dressed as a saint while I was out with Cerulean and Dolly. I was only a pretend saint, of course, and openly wore my necklace of holy stones around my neck, but Cyril still promised to give me a good scolding later.
“Why, hello there. Aren’t you an adorable little saint? That is a lovely necklace you have. I would love to have a nice, long talk with you if the opportunity should arise.”
They say the world is a vast place full of all kinds of people, but Cyril was probably the only one who could threaten someone while wearing such a sunny expression. I’ve avoided Cyril ever since that day, terrified of what he might do. He was a busy man anyway, so avoiding him wasn’t difficult—at least I thought it wouldn’t be, but he caught me off guard just two days later.
He intercepted me on my way to the dining hall for lunch, when my mind was preoccupied with the menu and my vigilance had lapsed. By the time I noticed him, it was already too late. Despair washed over me as he gripped my arm, cutting off any hope of escape. He must have known how I felt, but he maintained a cheerful smile regardless.
“Oh my, you make it sound as if I’m a fool who’s easily confused by one’s clothes. Oho ho ho, no, you were definitely a saint when I saw you in town the other day. After all, only a saint can use healing magic, and I see no reason why you, with all the healing stones you wore, wouldn’t be able to use healing magic.”
“That’s certainly one way of interpreting things.” I answered vaguely, trying my hardest not to say anything that would set Cyril off.
“Surely you agree that even if you changed clothes, you would still be a saint?”
“But as you can see, Captain Cyril, I’m not wearing any holy stones right now. By your logic, wouldn’t I be an ordinary knight, not a saint?” I couldn’t let him win this or I’d definitely regret it, but I pushed back gingerly.
He pondered for a moment—or pretended to, at least—before saying dryly, “I see. Even though you could become a saint whenever you please simply by wearing your holy stones, you choose to be a knight by your own volition. Is that correct?”
Something clicked in my mind. Oh! This has to do with how he replied to Dolly’s provocation!
Dolly had challenged him, saying, “Mm, I wonder about that. Just look at how she’s dressed. Isn’t she an adorable little saint? Fia’s future is full of possibilities. Why should you decide what she’ll become?”
With an icy smile, Cyril had replied, “I do believe the fact she’s here at all is proof she’s chosen to be a knight.”
Thank goodness I remembered how worked up he got about that. My self-preservation skills really came in handy here!
“That’s right, Captain! Being a knight suits me far better than being a saint!” Here was my chance to switch to offense!
Cyril narrowed his eyes, but I’d grown wise in my time here and picked up on an important fact—it didn’t matter what the truth was. Anything could become the truth if you said it sincerely enough.
I clasped my hands and met his eyes. “I aspire to become a fine knight like you, Captain Cyril!”
He took a step back, seeming overwhelmed by my zeal. “You aspire to become like me? I’m…I’m flattered, but…in what ways, exactly?”
Victory bells chimed in my mind as he floundered. I did it! He’d completely forgotten about scolding me.
Careful not to mess up after gaining so much ground, I thought hard before saying, “Well, you’re quite a bit taller than me, for one thing. It might take me a while, but I plan to catch up.”
“Huh? You genuinely believe you could reach my height one day? Fia, that would take no less than three hundred years.”
“A-all right, um…I’ve still got a ways to go with the sword before I can match you, but I did duel Commander Saviz to a draw at the entrance ceremony. I’m sure I’ll catch up by the time I’m your age.”
“No, that duel was declared void, not a draw, because your sword happened to be a treasure from the Golden Age. And the difference in skill between the two of you was still plain as day, even with you using a legendary-grade magic sword.”
I, a new recruit, was expressing my genuine hopes for the future, yet Cyril mercilessly shot them down one by one. “Captain Cyril! Do you enjoy crushing the dreams of the young and hopeful?! I was only answering your question, so why are you tearing apart everything I say?!”
His eyes went wide as he realized his rudeness. Hanging his head, he said, “I apologize. I should encourage your growth, not discourage it. Yes, I’m sure in five…no, in fifty years, when I start to hunch, you’ll match my height. And by the time you reach my age… Well, given how unexpected things seem drawn to you, I’m sure you’ll find another legendary-grade magic sword and reach my level of strength.”
He smiled then, a soft look of relief. He seemed to honestly believe his words were encouraging. Meanwhile, I was starting to question his sanity. I shot him a glare, flustering him.
“Fia, I wouldn’t lie to you about such a thing. That was my honest appraisal of your potential growth.”
You’re kidding me. Surely there were tons of actual good things he could say about me!
“That’s all you’ve got?! I’m shocked! I found a flaw in our otherwise perfect captain! Despite being in a position of leadership, Captain Cyril has a fatal inability to praise people! Let me show you how it’s done… ‘Captain Cyril’s hair is so silky smooth, he doesn’t even need a brush! And he’s so good with a sword, he can just waltz over to the forest and hunt monsters if he ever gets hungry!’ Now that’s how you praise someone!” I tilted my chin up in triumph, but he just furrowed his brow at me.
“For praise, I certainly don’t feel particularly happy. Your example aside, I don’t believe my ability to offer praise stands to improve. There’s a qualitative difference between us in what can be praised, as one of us is lacking in noteworthy traits… Erm, no, I shouldn’t make excuses.” At my glare, Cyril quickly changed topics. “Incidentally, Fia, Cerulean has put in an official request to have you temporarily assigned as his personal guard. He may act arrogant, but he hasn’t actually made many demands like this up until now. He was utterly insistent he have you, and for a full month…”
Cyril’s eyebrow rose in question. I had to wonder how much he knew about Cerulean’s circumstances. I suspected he knew everything, even though I had no evidence to back that up. But just in case, I kept my answer vague.
“Cerulean is thinking of offering Colette a Rose of the Great Saint. He’s entrusted me with picking one out.”
“For Colette, you say…” Cyril nodded, seeming to understand something. I took that to mean he did indeed know the truth: that Colette was alive, only asleep with her time frozen.
Eventually, he narrowed his eyes and said, “I had a feeling something was up. The area with the Roses of the Great Saint is kept off-limits to most, but Cerulean requested permission for Lloyd and a few others to enter.”
Come to think of it, I did recall seeing knights standing guard around that area. They never stopped me, though. I tilted my head as I pondered over that thought. The first time I went there with Lloyd, he raised his hand as though signaling to the knights standing guard. Did that signal somehow extend permanent permission to me? Huh. I guess so. I just didn’t notice since Lloyd never mentioned it.
I shook off my musing and found Cyril studying the ground.
“If Cerulean is having you pick out a rose for Colette, then he and Lloyd must have decided to bet everything on you,” he said. “How peculiar. After a single audience with the king and one outing, you’ve captured their interest.” He smiled softly. “Ha ha. You must have been a terribly cute saint.”
I wisely kept my mouth tightly shut. He met my eyes again.
“In that case, I’d like you to indulge Cerulean’s wishes until he’s satisfied.”
I thought he was going to say I had no business playing around with a bunch of jesters, but he was surprisingly open-minded about the whole thing. “Huh? Really?” I said.
His smile wavered. “Indeed. Consider it a request from me as well. What happened may seem like a stand-alone incident, but that’s far from the truth. If it weren’t for the Lament of Sutherland, Colette might still be with us today.”
His words caught me off guard. I thought the whole Lament of Sutherland thing was done, but it seemed there was more to it than I knew. This clearly wasn’t the right moment to ask, however, so for now, I had to let it be.