The rebels, still bound by bands of light, lay scattered across the stage and watched
But no one answered his plea. Justus walked over with measured steps and squatted beside the man nearest to the front, knife in hand.
"I need you to press your Blood Seal."
He pressed the knife against the finger of the man that protruded slightly from the band of light, sliding it lightly to make a cut. Then, watching the blood well up, he pressed a sheet of paper against it. A red, round smudge stuck firmly to the page.
...It hurt. It hurt!
Even though it was someone else's finger, watching a knife draw blood like that made my own finger ache in sympathy. I clutched my finger and shifted my focus slightly so I wouldn't have to think too much about the red blood.
Once Justus confirmed the Blood Seal was firmly pressed with the fingerprint included, he gave the knife a single, light flick.
...The knife was clean?
I blinked as I stared at it. The faint red streak that had been on the blade seemed to have vanished.
Justus held up the sealed paper and displayed it toward the square for all to see.
A gasp went up from the crowd.
He moved on to the man lying next to him and repeated the process — pressing the Blood Seal in the same way, then showing the paper to the square again. Over and over.
"Chief Priest, what exactly is Justus doing?"
"He's sorting the registration stones. Handling registrations is the job of priests or civil officials."
The registration stones, arranged in order of the year they received their
He hadn't even asked for a name, since it wasn't written on the registration stone. Apparently they were stored in order of the year of Baptism, but that meant there was no way to know whose was whose.
So the sorting of registration stones was also done primarily with blood. For example, at funerals, they placed the registration stone on the corpse and confirmed it was the right person's by matching the blood. I had apparently given blood to the Chief Priest so he could find the registration stone needed for my funeral. I didn't remember it since I had been unconscious.
When funerals were held outside of Ehrenfest, the deceased's blood was taken on a wooden tag and reported to the civil officials at the autumn Harvest Festival. The civil officials sent the wooden tags to the castle along with other tax goods, and wooden tags with the corresponding registration stones attached were returned. Those were supposedly affixed to the gravestone.
While I was listening to the Chief Priest's explanation, Justus had already made his way to the last person.
"I never imagined it would come to this..."
Among the six who had become rebels, the last one was a woman. The mayor's wife, bound by bands of light, was weeping as she glared at us with undisguised hostility.
...She was terrifying.
Her fierce, emotion-laden gaze bore down on me from straight ahead, and my throat lurched involuntarily. Goosebumps rose along my arms, and my fingertips trembled slightly.
I wanted to retreat and hide behind the Chief Priest. At the very least, I wanted to look away.
But the Chief Priest had told me to witness this punishment. I must not avert my eyes.
I bit down hard on my back teeth, interlaced my fingers, and squeezed them together so they wouldn't shake.
While I was locked in a staring contest with the mayor's wife, Justus had the Blood Seal pressed without so much as a change in expression, finishing the job.
After collecting all the seals, Justus said something, flicked the knife lightly, and returned it to his schaupel.
Then he waved the schaupel in a shape I couldn't quite make out and chanted, "Aosvaal."
The papers bearing the Blood Seals began to glow with a golden flame, like Contract Magic, and as they burned, they flew toward the box that Brother
The papers soared over the box trailing golden tails, burning and scattering motes of light as they disappeared.
Immediately afterward, without anyone touching them, the drawers began rattling on their own — the top one, the second one — sliding out and back in with an eerie motion, and from within, six registration stones shot out into the air.
"Ohhh!"
As excited voices rose from the square, the registration stones — white, medal-like plates engraved with their Commoner registrations — went whizzing through the air and landed neatly in Justus's hand.
Having caught all six stones, Justus inspected them in his palm, then walked smoothly toward the Chief Priest and knelt, presenting the registration stones.
"Lord
"Good work."
The Chief Priest took the registration stones from Justus and gave a small nod.
Hearing words of thanks from the Chief Priest, Justus rose and immediately returned to the box containing the registration stones. With careful hands, he locked it securely once more, then stood guard in front of it.
"
"Yes."
Once I stood beside Justus, only the Chief Priest remained at the center of the stage.
The Chief Priest looked around, then smoothly drew his schaupel and moved it. Magic Power began to flow from its tip, tracing an intricate pattern.
"Oh, this is the first time..." Justus murmured in an excited voice beside me, his brown eyes gleaming with delight. He was leaning forward slightly, watching the Chief Priest with rapt attention.
"Justus, what's going to happen?"
"It's an execution for those who betrayed the Lord. This knowledge is taught only to Lord candidates, which is why they keep others away when performing it."
He explained to me that the ritual was conducted in isolation — no sound was to leak out, and no one was allowed near enough to see the details of the magic circle being drawn.
"I knew there was magic for executing traitors, but I'd never seen it before."
Apparently, people who actually betrayed their Lord were extremely rare, so this sort of execution seldom took place.
"Ahh, I'm so glad I came to
Clenching his fists, Justus spoke in a voice thick with emotion, earnestly declaring, "This is the execution I always wanted to see." For the first time, I understood exactly how the Chief Priest had felt when he had made such a sour face about letting Justus come along.
I quietly took one step away from Justus.
"You will probably learn it someday as well, Princess. If the opportunity arises to use it, please do let me know."
"...I shall pray to the gods that such an opportunity never comes."
Even if it did, I certainly wouldn't call you, I thought to myself as I turned my gaze to the Chief Priest.
At the center of the stage, the Chief Priest swung his schaupel. The magic pattern drawn with Magic Power must have been complete, because a black mist emerged from the circle, flickering like flame.
Was this magic related to the Darkness God? I vaguely guessed as much because the black mist looked similar to the one that had drained Magic Power when I was attacked during the Spring Prayer last year.
The Chief Priest tossed the registration stones into the flickering black magic circle. They stopped midair, sticking to the circle as if magnetized, then were slowly enveloped by the black mist.
"Eckhart, release the binding!"
"Right away!"
At the Chief Priest's command, Brother Eckhart swung his schaupel without a moment's hesitation, and the bands of light restraining the six people vanished. The light disappeared in an instant.
Their reactions to the sudden freedom were varied.
Some blinked in confusion, unsure of what was happening, and remained frozen in place.
Some screamed and tried to flee.
And one — perhaps wanting to strike back — charged toward the Chief Priest...
"Chief Priest?!"
When I saw the mayor's wife rushing toward the center of the stage, I couldn't help but cry out in alarm. But the Chief Priest didn't so much as twitch a brow or shift his gaze. Without even glancing at the moving rebels, his eyes fixed on the magic circle, he spoke calmly: "There is nothing to worry about. No problem."
They had barely a moment to move.
The mayor, who had scrambled to his feet and started to run, and his wife, who had lunged at the Chief Priest — both stumbled after just a few steps and collapsed on the spot.
They seemed to be trying to stand, moving their arms and struggling, but their legs wouldn't budge at all.
"My legs — my legs!"
Piteous cries rang out. "No!" "Help!" "We're sorry!" — voices clamored one after another.
When I frowned and looked closely, I could see all six of their legs turning a pale gray. At first I thought they were all wearing matching gray shoes, but that wasn't the case. Their legs, and the hems of their clothing, were progressively being stained gray, and as the color spread, they seemed to lose the ability to move more and more of their bodies.
"It almost looks like their legs are turning to stone..."
"Presumably, it will spread across their entire bodies."
Without even trying to hide his eager expression, Justus stared at them as if trying to devour the sight.
I could not find any such enjoyment in it. If it weren't for the Chief Priest's stern glances directed my way every so often, I would have plugged my ears and closed my eyes — I didn't want to hear their screams or see them struggling.
The black mist consumed the registration stones as though burning them with flame.
The white registration stones sizzled and lost their shape from the bottom up, like paper burning.
When roughly half the stone had been eaten away, the rebels had been petrified up to their waists. In what felt like no time at all, the stone crept up to their chests, and once it reached their necks, they could no longer make a sound.
When the registration stones had completely disappeared, all six stood frozen like stone statues.
The Chief Priest swept his schaupel in a single, smooth motion.
The magic circle vanished.
In the next instant, the six stone figures crumbled apart without ceremony.
First, a large crack split through them with a sharp snap.
Then they fractured further, pieces falling with heavy, clunky thuds.
The impact of the fall shattered the larger chunks into countless fragments.
The fragments crumbled away like sand art, dissolving with a soft hiss.
In the end, they seemed to have the lightness of ash. A spring wind — still carrying a chill — scattered them to nothing.
No registration stones to serve as grave markers. No remains to bury.
This was the fate of traitors — denied even burial, even mourning.
"Masterful," Justus declared in an excited tone, but I could not even muster a polite smile in response.
...It was revolting.
A look of horror and despair clung to my face, refusing to leave. Their final screams echoed in the back of my ears, and the image of them struggling to the very end was seared into my eyes.
That was not how a person should die.
...It was revolting.
My limbs felt abnormally cold. A churning nausea rolled through my stomach without cease.
If I simply let myself lose consciousness and collapse, I could be free of this. But I hadn't exhausted my stamina or my Magic Power, so even if I wanted to black out, I couldn't — and I wasn't permitted to close my eyes, either. I could only stand at the edge of the stage.
In the square, now silent, it was clear that fear and dread toward Nobility had taken root. Having witnessed the power of the high-ranking nobles firsthand, they had been deeply branded with the knowledge that their lives could be snatched away in an instant — their faces were stiff with terror.
"With this, the rebels are gone."
Rising to his feet amid the silence,
"They were traitors who brought ruin upon the entire town. Because of them, we were branded with the stain of treason."
What comes next will be the hardest part, Richt told them.
"We must continue to atone for a time long enough for the children who have completed their Baptism Ceremony to grow into adults — and then beyond. We must cooperate with one another, so that we can repay the mercy of the Saint of Ehrenfest, who saved us from being executed as traitors, every last one."
From the opposite end of the stage, Richt's face was also tight as he spoke to the square. Even so, he was desperate to rebuild Hasse somehow. My eyes were drawn to his struggle — his refusal to let everything crumble.
I took a slow, deep breath.
The screams still echoed in my ears, but I couldn't let them drag me down. My role as the Saint was not yet over.
What to do with Hasse after the mayor's punishment was also part of the challenge. I had to support Richt as much as I could and hold the town together.
I took slow steps toward the center of the stage. My body swayed, and a sour taste welled up from deep inside my throat, but I made my way to the Chief Priest's side.
Every eye in the square was on me, and I could feel every gaze from those on the stage converge upon me as well.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
The image of their terror and struggling rose vividly in my mind.
I shook my head several times, braced my feet firmly, and raised my face so I wouldn't look down.
"Rozemyne, take this."
The Chief Priest pressed a Magical Tool into my hand — one that would amplify my voice — and took a step back.
I gripped the Magical Tool, brought it to my lips, and slowly drew a breath.
"People of Hasse."
My voice trembled. I swallowed once, then drew another slow breath.
"People of Hasse, please endure for one year."
This time, my voice came out a little stronger. Relieved, I continued.
It was Nobility who plunged people into the depths of fear with overwhelming Magic Power, but it was also Nobility who could save the people with great power. If I had been given the role of the Saint, I wanted to offer at least a sliver of hope.
"Whether the Spring Prayer will be held next year or not — that will be decided by the Lord, based on how Hasse conducts itself over this coming year. I intend to make my own request as well, but what matters is Hasse's conduct."
If they worked hard for one year, the next year would surely see the Spring Prayer restored. Hearing those words, the farmers raised their voices. "If it's just one year, we can manage." "Let's do this!" — such murmurs began to rise.
Seeing their faces turn forward once more, I felt a small measure of tension leave my shoulders.
"It has been proven that none of you harbor treasonous hearts. Show your desire to atone through your actions. I wish to hold the Spring Prayer here next year and offer blessings and prayers."
Then, amid the roaring cheers, I followed the Chief Priest's instructions and mounted a riding beast to head for the small Temple. A large box, Justus,
"Lady Rozemyne, that was truly magnificent."
"Thank you, Brigitte."
I managed a smile, but my head was already spinning.
My stomach lurched. I wanted to vomit out this sickness.
I wanted to completely escape reality and lose myself in a book world. At the very least, I wanted to sleep without thinking about anything.
As I dismounted the riding beast in front of the small Temple's doors, gray priests, members of the
"Justus, Eckhart,
The Chief Priest handed red magic stones to each of them, and all four and their Attendants immediately set to work. Justus ordered his own Attendant to carry the precious box that had been unloaded from my riding beast.
Once everyone had dismounted, I put my riding beast away and let out a slow breath. The instant I did, a sour taste surged upward.
I could not vomit in front of everyone here. I forced it back down and quickly wiped the tears that welled up with my sleeve.
"Rozemyne, you look unwell. You should rest. The rest of you, see to it that everything is prepared for her."
"Yes."
My Attendants stood in a flurry and hurried inside. I had already given
I watched my Attendants go with hazy eyes, and slowly let my gaze drift to those who had come to greet me. Among them, I spotted my father. It was immediately obvious that he was worried sick, wracking his brain for some way to help. I wanted to rush over to him, call out "Father," cling to him, and cry.
"Rozemyne."
"...Ah."
The Chief Priest's hand settled on my shoulder. I lowered the hand that had been rising and set my foot back where it had been.
Following the Chief Priest's lead, I began to walk. My father stepped forward and offered his mantle.
"Lady Rozemyne, please — take this if you would. You look as though you're freezing."
I looked between the mantle my father was holding out and the Chief Priest. The Chief Priest glared at my father, but my father held his ground, meeting the Chief Priest's gaze while still extending the mantle.
The Chief Priest squinted down at him for a moment, then furrowed his brow deeply and let out a slow breath.
"Are you cold, Rozemyne?"
"I am. ...I was very cold. Thank you,
I accepted my father's mantle and hugged it to myself. The slightly dusty scent, together with the familiar smell of my father, made me feel a rush of warmth — and at the same time, tears threatened to rise, so I buried my face in the mantle.
"High Priest, if she is still cold, please..."
"No, this is warmer."
The unexpected words made my tears recede instantly. I raised my head and saw five Soldiers stepping forward one after another, each offering their mantle.
Facing the row of mantles before me, I gave a small smile. That alone lightened my heart a little.
"I can't carry any more, so I'll simply accept the sentiment. Thank you all for your kindness."
Hugging my father's mantle, I made my way to the hidden room, where everyone had bustled about preparing a place for me to sleep.
To avoid being in the way, I settled in a corner of the room and spread open my father's mantle, wrapping myself in it.
"Rozemyne, lend me that."
"No."
I hugged the mantle tighter, trying to hide it from the Chief Priest, who had extended his hand.
He pressed his fingers to his temple, then seized the mantle with one hand.
"You can't put that on the bed in this state. I'm just going to cleanse it. Lend it to me."
"...Cleanse?"
While I was tilting my head in confusion, the mantle was taken from me. The Chief Priest drew his schaupel right there and chanted a few words.
A round orb of water appeared from somewhere and enveloped the mantle, and in moments, the water vanished again to wherever it had come from.
"What kind of magic is that?"
"As I said — a cleansing spell."
It was apparently essential magic for Knights who had to spend days outdoors on Beast extermination quests. It cleansed both the body and one's equipment.
"...Such a convenient spell existed? This is the first time I've ever heard of it."
"It's not something someone like you, with Attendants and servants, would ever need."
For those who had to spend time outdoors with no attendants to rely on — a last resort for truly desperate situations. Normally, no one would waste Magic Power on something you could simply have someone else do.
"This is a special case. If that had been brought to the bed as-is, it would have been a mess, and there's no time to wash it properly."
As he spoke, the Chief Priest draped the now clean and fresh-smelling mantle over my head.
"I'll explain to the Gilberta Company myself. Get proper rest today."
With that, the Chief Priest left the room as though his business were concluded.
As I held the mantle and breathed in its scent, I heard Fran telling Gil, "That will be enough," as he carried in hot water.
"Lady Rozemyne, the bath is ready. Now then, gentlemen, if you would step out."
And so, I wrapped myself head to toe in my father's mantle and slept.
The nausea receded, and I had no nightmares.
This concludes the Hasse arc.
I love Father Gunther.
Next time: Spring Prayer and spring ingredients.