“Thank you!” I called after them, but they didn’t turn around. Though it had delayed me slightly, I was beyond glad to be out of that soiled robe. Eager to return to the competition, I hurried back to my already-purified tank, rolled up my sleeve slightly, and plunged my hand into the chilly water.
Then I paused—it had suddenly occurred to me to check on my competitors’ progress. I halted my hand mid-plunge, the cold water encircling my wrist, and surveyed the room. Most of them were still engaged in the search for their pendants, but a few had successfully retrieved theirs. Considering the time I had lost attending to Flora, their progress should not have surprised me. I realized that it did, but I shook my head—it was an unnecessary concern, really, given my substantial lead of over four hundred points. The swift recoveries of my rivals would scarcely close such a gap.
Still, it wouldn’t do to become complacent. Refocusing on my own task, I spotted the telltale glint of metal, retrieved the pendant from the water, and took a moment to admire the intricately carved rose on the face of the disc. Water droplets streamed from my hand, creating mesmerizing ripples that spread across the tank as they hit the water’s surface. I lingered a moment, captivated by the sight, then gently placed the pendant on the floor beside me.
It was a struggle for me to stay alert during the remaining twelve minutes of the trial. Drained completely of my powers, or perhaps overwhelmed by a sense of relief that the trials were finally about to conclude—the source of my weariness was difficult to discern, but I stifled yawn after relentless yawn until finally, the church bells rang. The tanks were carried off, the results were tallied, and that was all—there was no immediate announcement of the trial’s outcome this time around.
As I stood there, mulling over what I suspected was a fourth-place finish in this final trial, the host reclaimed the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and distinguished candidates. The moment you have all eagerly anticipated has arrived. The standings are now final. It is time to commence the closing award ceremonies of the inaugural Saintly Trials.”
The hall stirred, each sound of the rustling of clothes and the shifting of seats seemingly magnified in the suddenly tense air. For myself, I released a long, drawn-out breath. With the final announcements imminent, my nerves had flared up once again.
“First, it is my great honor to present the victor of the inaugural Saintly Trials, whose unparalleled performance left every other candidate in her wake—” he paused, his gaze sweeping the audience to ensure he had their rapt attention. “The Saintly candidate from the Empire of Malcosias—Her Imperial Highness, Princess Carolina Ruby Martinez!”
My name thundered across the hall. It felt like the culmination of an arduous journey, the final reward for relentless effort and myriad challenges conquered. Finally, the title of Saint was mine. As the weight of uncertainty lifted, my expression softened into one of profound relief. Around me on the stage, there was a subtle stir among the other candidates; they exchanged glances, shrugs, and nods, their gestures conveying a resigned acknowledgment—almost as if to say I thought so. However, they only allowed themselves a moment to express their regrets before becoming outwardly gracious, smiling and congratulating me on a well-deserved victory. I responded with an appreciative smile and heartfelt thanks.
“With an astonishing final score of seven hundred forty-eight points, and with a placement of first in the first and second trials, and fourth in the final trial, I believe I speak for all of us when I say Princess Carolina has surpassed all expectations. In addition, her dedication to saving her sister was nothing short of miraculous—a true demonstration of the values a Saint should embody.”
A rumble of approving murmurs swept through the crowd, accompanied by a sea of nodding heads. The notion that the chosen Saint should exemplify not only exceptional ability but also the highest moral character seemed to have struck a chord. This was an outcome that was perfectly fine with me; the boost to my reputation among the realm’s nobility was welcome, if somewhat undeserved—it wasn’t as if I had saved Flora’s life as a selfless act of piety.
The host continued. “Candidate Carolina— Excuse me, Saint Carolina will now receive a certificate of merit and memento from the high pontiff. Your Holiness, if you would please.”
At his words, the revered elder occupying the seat of the arbiter rose from his seat. With solemn dignity, he ascended onto the stage, flanked on either side by two paladins. One carried a piece of parchment, the other a scepter. These must be the certificate and the memento, I thought.
All eyes converged on us as I approached the high pontiff, crossing a hand over my chest and bowing deeply. He returned my gesture with a look of profound warmth and kindness before addressing me. “On this day, the fifth of December in this now-esteemed year of our Lord, I, High Pontiff Melvin Clark White, do solemnly confer upon you, Princess Carolina Ruby Martinez, this sacred attestation in recognition of your achievements in these blessed trials. By the authority vested in me, I proclaim you henceforth a Saint.”
He extended the certificate towards me, which I accepted with utmost care. “I humbly accept this sacred title, Your Holiness,” I replied with a respectful smile gracing my lips.
It was just a piece of parchment, yet the sight of my name inscribed upon it brought home the profound reality of the responsibilities now bestowed upon me as leader of the Faith Council of Saints. Even if the role was more symbolic than not, to be a figurehead carried its own burdens of expectations and influence.