“As I was telling the girls earlier, there’s a flower that grows in this region called the lantern flower. The petals store mana, so if you set them alight, they glow and float around. It’s not something for children to play with, though.”
“They glow and float?”
I could more or less imagine them floating like balloons, but them glowing and being flowers on top of that made getting a clear image in my head rather difficult. I directed a glance at Charolles to check if these were a common thing and she answered with a slight shake of her head.
“This area used to produce a large number of mages. People even called it holy ground. Those bizarre flowers are probably related in some way,” Fago said, heaving herself upright and looking up at the statue before continuing. “Long ago, back when this was just a tiny village, there was apparently an epidemic ravaging the area. The country and the regional lord abandoned the village, and the villagers had no money to call for a physician. Many people died, and the village was on the verge of annihilation. It was then that the Crimson Saint came.”
At that, the rest of us also looked up at the statue. I’d heard about the Crimson Saint from time to time during my travels. Fago carried on with her story.
“She took each villager’s hand in turn and saved all their lives. They each brought out their entire savings to offer as thanks, but she would accept none of it. Just as they worried they’d have nothing to express their gratitude with, a child brought her one of those flowers. They lit it and everyone watched it sparkle and float. She was overjoyed at seeing that. The villagers then all gathered more of them, and when the Crimson Saint left, they used those flowers as lanterns to see her off. Ever since then, they would light the flowers once a year, and it became known as the Lantern Flower Festival. It was a way to continue offering her our thanks.”
What an incredible story, was all I could think. The biggest shock was that it was no fabrication, but the actual truth. There had been a saint, she had saved the village with some strange power, and then the people had continued showing their gratitude over the years. The accumulation of all those people’s earnest feelings had given this temple its holy air.
I didn’t really understand prayers and faith. They seemed awfully unscientific to me. They also weren’t things that I could actively refute, though, and even if I could’ve, I knew that I shouldn’t. The feeling in the air here didn’t come from some logical train of thought; it was something that you felt on your skin and in your heart.
“It’s an important festival, then,” I murmured.
“What are you getting so serious for?” Fago said with a laugh.
I looked up and saw Nito nodding repeatedly to herself, her eyes misty. She must have really taken the story on board emotionally.
“Didn’t you hear this already earlier?” I asked her.
“A good story is good no matter how many times you hear it.”
Well, that’s how it is, I thought, not disagreeing. I could now understand her excitement from when she’d come gushing to me about it earlier.
“Let’s do it, then,” I decided.
“You say that like there’s enough of us to actually do it,” Fago commented with a raised eyebrow.
“It doesn’t need to be a big production, does it? We’ll just do what we can to try to let the saint know that you’re still here in this village.”
Fago cleaned the temple every morning, just like she was doing today. She’d been doing it since before we got there, and I was sure she’d still be doing it after we were gone. I found that genuinely amazing. So, while I didn’t know quite how to word it, I wanted that to get through—for Fago’s feelings to reach the saint, that is. The Lantern Flower Festival seemed like the perfect event for such a thing.
“I’d really love to do it!” Nito cried out, leaning forward; her enthusiasm seemed almost like a physical force pressing down on Fago.
“Well, if the both of you are so gung ho about it, who am I to say no?”
“We’re doing it, then!” Nito exclaimed, a smile blooming on her face that she directed toward me as she clapped in excitement.
“We should get more people involved too,” Nito continued, looking between Charolles and me. “There’s Fago’s acquaintance as well as the people you both met in the theater, right?”
“Right, those two might come if we invite them,” I mused, getting the feeling that Paula’d agree on the spot, though I thought Jill might be a bit more reluctant. “I’m not sure about Monty, though. He doesn’t seem like he’d be fond of that kind of excitement.”
“He wouldn’t,” Fago agreed. “The years twist us all, but writers are twisted to begin with.”
“Do you dislike writers?” I asked with a slightly chagrined smile.
“He’s a writer?” Charolles asked, interjecting.
“That’s what he told me, at least.”
Thinking Fago would probably know more, I looked over at her.
“I think his books sold pretty well in the past, but I’ve never read any of them.”
Charolles didn’t reply, just cast her gaze down at her feet.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she replied eventually. “I’m fine.”
She definitely wasn’t, but I could tell she didn’t want me to pry any further. I just nodded in reply and turned to talk to Nito. “We were going over that way anyway. Why not invite them at the same time?”
Nito’s bright cheer was the only answer I got.