The long chains leading from her legs to the float clanked noisily. The priests unclasped the chains. Then, holding them by the end, they led Berta down to the end of the path.
There was a “sanctuary” there. Of course, that was just the name the priests called it by; the building in which they usually slept was located back in town, as one would expect it to be. More significantly, this place set up in the mountains was a ritual site. In short, this place was home to a god, making it a “house of God” in the most literal sense.
Despite it being a “house,” there were no walls. It consisted solely of a patch of land (the kind on which a typical Friedlandian house might have otherwise been built), a number of large stone pillars arranged in the shape of an ellipse, and a single, huge flat rock atop them. There were no other structures—just that.
It was impossible to say how anyone could have created such a monolithic piece of rock; the same went for how it had been placed on top of those stone pillars. It was the work of a god. Gods were gods precisely because they readily accomplished that which was impossible for humans, and it was for just that reason that people prostrated themselves on the ground and worshipped them.
“Here, please.” The priests beckoned her to the center of the sanctuary.
A single iron stake had been driven into the ground. At the top of the stake was a ring, also made of iron, to which the priests reconnected the chains extending from Berta’s legs. The priests were working efficiently. It was likely less that they were used to this procedure, and more that they had a strong desire to finish up this task quickly and leave. They may have been priests, but they were still human. They feared the gods as much as the next person—in fact, even more so.
“Ensure you do your job,” one of them said.
“Yes...” Berta nodded again in answer to the priest’s words. Of course, she understood the meaning of “job,” but she wasn’t about to panic at this point. Perhaps because this had been impressed on her over and over and over again for years, the fear was by now a very familiar feeling.
The priests nodded to the rest of the procession. The procession nodded back and started heading back the way they had come, pulling the float in the opposite direction and leaving Berta on her own. Of course, the priests would monitor the progress of the ritual from a place some short distance away. This was a precaution in case the “shrine maiden” lost her nerve at the last possible moment and attempted to escape, or behaved in some other irreverent way in front of the god once it appeared. It was said that this had happened a number of times in the past, and whenever it did, the priests offered one more “shrine maiden” in order to quell the god’s anger.
Of course, Berta had no intention of doing such a thing. If she could not do her “job,” another “shrine maiden” would be selected from her “little sisters” at the orphanage to pacify the god. Of course, they were only a “family” by name, not related by blood, but those girls were very important to Berta, who didn’t even know what her parents looked like. As she pictured the faces of each of her “sisters” in turn, Berta sighed.
She suddenly frowned in confusion. She had heard a small noise of some sort. For a moment, she thought that the god—the erdgod—had appeared, but if that were the case, the first thing that she’d have heard would have been booming footsteps and roars. She had never heard of a god hiding in the shadows of a sanctuary’s pillar and waiting in secret for the arrival of the “shrine maiden.”
“There can’t be—” Berta walked toward the direction of the sound. The chain had some length to it, so she was at least free to move around inside the sanctuary. She went to its “back” side—the side opposite to where they had come in. She peered around one of the rearmost pillars and gasped.
A man and a woman were sitting there, leaning with their backs against the pillar. Both were likely travelers—they were wearing coats and sleeping close to each other. There were also traces of a campfire at their feet. They had probably suffered from the heavy rain that had been falling until a short while ago and taken shelter here at the sanctuary, then been so tired from their journey that they had carelessly fallen asleep at the same time. The sound she had just heard had probably been made by one of them shifting in their sleep. However—
“These people are...”
Dressed a little strangely. No, to be precise, both the man and the woman had slightly unusual items on them.
First, the tall and lean young man. He was probably about the same age as Berta: late teens or thereabouts. He had a classically handsome face. Even when he was asleep, his face didn’t relax, but looked serious, as if he had spent so long continually agonizing over something that the expression had gotten stuck. He had gorgeous, soft blonde hair that was wasted on a man, but that was about the only thing that stood out about him; nothing else about his appearance was particularly unique.
However, the thing he had by his side was something Berta had never seen before. She imagined that it was probably a sword. It looked like a long weapon in its sheath. Unlike a normal sword, however, it was very bulky around the handle, or rather its mounting. It was a bizarre shape, bigger than necessary, as though the blade of a sword had been fastened to a club. In addition, there were a number of metal-like parts built into the handle. The whole thing looked like some sort of tool.
What on earth was it? Maybe this was actually a normal weapon to see in the capital and large cities, and Berta simply didn’t know of it. Of course, a weapon to protect oneself was essential when traveling, but whatever it was that this young man possessed, it left a much more imposing impression than a mere sword.
And second—the girl. She was short in stature and had a cute-looking face, but because her silver hair had been cut short, she could be easily mistaken for a boy if seen from the wrong angle. Maybe she gave off a different impression when her eyes were open and she had an actual expression on her face.
The strange item this girl had was in front of her eyes. It had two small, glass plates connected by thin, metal parts. They were hooked over her ears and balanced on her nose. It was Berta’s first time seeing this item, as well. Thinking about it, she’d heard from a merchant who came to town that there were things called “glasses,” which were tools used to correct the vision of people with bad eyes. Perhaps that was what these were.
“E-Excuse me.” Berta tried speaking to the two of them. She felt bad for waking them up when they were tired, but if she didn’t do something, they would be caught up in the ritual, and Berta had no idea what kind of reaction these unanticipated beings would elicit from the erdgod. Gods were incomprehensible and fickle. Would it be pleased? Would it be angry? Both were possible. But in either case, there was no doubt that it would mean more victims besides Berta. She raised her voice and called out again. “Excuse me. Please get up.”
Neither of them showed any sign of moving. Making up her mind, Berta extended her hand towards the young man to touch him on the cheek. But just before she could touch him—maybe he’d sensed something, maybe it was just coincidence—his eyes snapped open and he looked back at her.
“Uh...?” It wasn’t clear which of them had made that stupid-sounding noise, but a wordless gasp of surprise echoed around the sanctuary and the mountain forest surrounding it.