Apprentice Shrine Maiden Volume 4

by Miya Kazuki

  Prologue

  It was the beginning of spring, right after the end of Spring Prayer. Young plants were growing greener by the day, their former pallor already long forgotten. The morning was bright, but it started to rain a little after noon; no doubt it was the rain of blessings. The farmers thanked Flutrane the Goddess of Water for watering their fields and, after finishing lunch, dedicated themselves to their indoor handiwork.

  An elegantly carved carriage was rolling down a road between the fields, which were now clear of farmers. There was an ornate family crest engraved into a metal plate on the door, signaling the high status of the rider. But unfortunately, the poorly timed rain had muddied the roads and slowed the carriage’s progress, and it was hard for a certain someone to hide their frustration at how much slower they were going than they would be on the stone roads of the city.

  “...Flutrane is feeling unkind today, I see.”

  Why must you summon rain on the day I travel outside? Bezewanst bitterly asked Flutrane, all the while cursing the intense shaking of the carriage.

  It was just before fifth bell when he arrived at Giebe Glaz’s summer villa, which was located near the border to Ehrenfest’s Central District.

  “Welcome to my humble abode, Lord Bezewanst,” Glaz greeted Bezewanst as he disembarked from his carriage, his fat belly swaying when he stepped down.

  He was taken to the spacious parlor where there were already ten-some nobles gathered and chatting. There had been no other carriages in sight, though; it seemed he was the only visitor who had arrived by one. These other guests were true nobles who had traveled here using their own highbeasts, most likely because they wanted their meeting kept a secret from everyone, including their own servants.

  Bezewanst could tell from Glaz’s uncomfortable expression that he had been ordered to host the gathering in his own mansion by Giebe Gerlach. It was fairly common for archnobles and mednobles to force the hosting of secret meetings onto laynobles.

  Feeling nothing in particular about that, Bezewanst strolled over to the seat of honor and sat down as though it were the most normal thing in the world before welcoming the greetings of the gathered nobles. While that was going on, he could see Glaz talking to a noble he didn’t recognize.

  “Count Bindewald, seated there is Bezewanst, the High Bishop of Ehrenfest,” said Glaz.

  “Oh, the High Bishop, hm...?”

  In truth, Bezewanst had been sent to the temple and so he wasn’t actually a noble. Under normal circumstances, the nobles gathered at the mansion would never yield the seat of honor to a temple man, but both Bezewanst’s mother and father had been candidates to become archduke. He had pure archduke blood flowing through him.

  The only reason he had been sent to the temple was because the previous giebe, Leisegang, had commanded it. Bezewanst had somewhat low mana for his family and his mother had died right after giving birth to him. As a result, there was nobody to protect him when Leisegang, who was from the family of his father’s now primary wife, demanded that his father put him in the temple—a demand which led to him having to take on the robes while still a baby. From birth he had been raised not as a noble, but as a priest.

  However, his older sister of the same mother still treasured him as her only living blood relative, and the gathered nobles could not treat him lightly due to that; they knew well that his cooperation would be essential to advising and influencing his older sister.

  “Lord Bezewanst, this is Count Bindewald from Ahrensbach. He will be instrumental in achieving our goals.”

  The fact he had been introduced as a count told Bezewanst that he was an archnoble with his own province. Bezewanst was fairly overweight himself, but even he couldn’t help but notice that Bindewald was quite the sizable individual. His eyes were murky and he had the look of someone who would commit heinous acts without a second thought.

  Bezewanst, pretending not to notice that Bindewald was rather brazenly looking down at him despite him being the High Bishop, mustered the energy to give a composed nod. As he sat in the seat of honor, it was the guests who would be greeting him.

  “I ask whether I may offer a blessing in appreciation of this serendipitous meeting, ordained by the pure rivers flowing from Flutrane the Goddess of Water.”

  “You may.”

  A faint green glow emitted from the ring nestled on Bindewald’s left middle finger. It was the kind of ring that all nobles had, the one that parents gave to their children after their baptism ceremony.

  An indescribable frustration weighed on Bezewanst’s heart as he looked down at the ring. If not for the Leisegangs, he would never have been sent to the temple; he would have been given such a ring himself. The one he wore now had been given to him by his older sister when he came of age, but that ring did not change that he had not been baptized in the Noble’s Quarter, nor had he attended the Royal Academy.

  Bezewanst knew there was a clear difference between him and Bindewald, and while that did frustrate him, it also gave him a dark pleasure to see such nobles kneeling before him—even if they were just looking to exploit his older sister’s authority.

  “Count Bindewald is also the one who has been delivering the letters from Lady Georgine.”

  According to the nobles in attendance, Bindewald had been a bridge of communication between Bezewanst and his niece, who had married into the duchy of Ahrensbach, south of Ehrenfest. Despite having been asked by his niece to fill several chalices with mana, Bezewanst had only ever met with the giebes of Ehrenfest who served as middlemen. He had never met any Ahrensbach nobles in person before now.

  “I pray that Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time has woven our threads of fate tightly together.”

  Even though none of them truly intended to offer prayers to the gods, their lunch began with a number of such blessings as finely mellowed whisky was brought out. As the amber-colored liquid was poured into each person’s cup, its sweet scent spread through the room.

  Glaz took the first drink to demonstrate that the whisky had not been poisoned. Bezewanst, seeing that, brought his own heavy silver cup to his mouth. The thick liquid rolled over his tongue, making it sting a little. He moved his tongue around to enjoy the sensation, then eventually swallowed. He felt the burn of alcohol in his throat and let out a sigh of satisfaction. The whisky was of a very high quality; Glaz had no doubt strained his coffers to satisfy his guests’ palates.

  “By the way, Lord Bezewanst. Where might the commoner shrine maiden I asked for be?” asked Gerlach, breaking the ice once he had waited for everyone to take a sip of their drinks.

  Bezewanst took another sip of his whisky, feeling all eyes focus on him. They had asked him to bring the mana-wielding commoner so that they could purchase her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  “I have not brought her.”

  “A-And why might that be?”

  Bezewanst snorted at the nobles looking at him with wide, surprised eyes. “Why must I tolerate a carriage ride with a commoner such as her? I would not like to breathe the same air as her, and I am not about to prepare a separate carriage just for her.”

  “I could have prepared a carriage myself, had you asked...”

  The nobles bemoaned the missed opportunity, but it was difficult for Bezewanst to take Myne away without the High Priest noticing. He had considered using Delia to draw her out, but the sharp-eyed attendant who once served the High Priest never allowed the two of them to be alone. The plan would likely end in failure, serving no purpose but to put the High Priest more on guard.

  ...Why must I, of archduke blood, expose myself to danger for their sake in the first place? Bezewanst thought as he prepared to shift the blame onto Giebe Gerlac
h, having already planned out his excuses.

  “They are much more on guard now due to the failed attempt during Spring Prayer. You should be thankful for the disaster I averted here.”

  “...Ah, that is quite a shame. The plan was to use Devouring soldiers borrowed from Count Bindewald to attack her carriage, but alas.”

  The plan to kidnap Myne during Spring Prayer had proven fruitless. Kidnapping an apprentice shrine maiden of commoner origin should have been trivial for magic-wielding nobles; the fact that they had failed was no doubt due to the High Priest, Ferdinand, accompanying her. He was also a noble who could wield magic.

  “We can blame that meddlesome High Priest for this.”

  “It truly is a shame. I had hoped to make that commoner girl suffer, inflicting as much pain onto her and Lord Ferdinand as possible,” spat Viscountess Dahldolf, overflowing with rage toward both Myne and Ferdinand. Her beloved son had been punished after being assigned to guard Myne during a trombe extermination mission in autumn.

  Bezewanst had, at her request, complained to Ferdinand and asked his older sister to lessen Shikza’s punishment, but in all honesty, he didn’t really care what happened to him; Bezewanst had been frustrated by Shikza’s good luck in being able to leave the temple when the Sovereignty’s purges caused a political shift.

  “Lord Ferdinand is a more formidable foe than we anticipated, it seems. We could have pinned the blame on the Leisegangs had we only been able to kidnap her while she was staying there...” murmured Gerlach, looking regretfully at Bezewanst.

  Useless fool, Bezewanst spat on the inside. Had they successfully kidnapped Myne during the Spring Prayer, he would have freed himself of that irritating commoner girl without dirtying his own hands, all while pinning the blame on the High Priest. Bezewanst had been eagerly awaiting news of trouble occurring far from the temple, but in the end they had safely returned by carriage. It truly was infuriating.

  “We had even stirred the citizens near the border of our provinces to attack, but not a single one returned. They were all vaporized in the attack, despite the fact that half of them were Ehrenfest citizens,” Bindewald said, which made Viscount Seitzen—the giebe of the province bordering Garduhn’s—frown anxiously.

  “That said, Viscount Garduhn has said nothing of the citizens that disappeared en masse. Perhaps he didn’t notice the attack due to its proximity to the border...?”

  “That is quite strange indeed...”

  Perhaps his attack had only harmed those from foreign duchies. Was that even possible? They wanted to know the details, but Viscount Garduhn was on friendly terms with the Leisegangs; he wasn’t currently present and hadn’t been informed of the Spring Prayer ambush. And as no survivors had returned, it was impossible to know what had happened there.

  “Citizens were not the only ones who died. I lost half of my Devouring soldiers. Some of them were fine men capable of using magic tools and wielding mana on the level of a laynoble. They were for doing dirty business while keeping my hands clean. Their failure truly is a shame. I had been hoping to buy the apprentice shrine maiden to restock their numbers,” Bindewald said before giving a throaty laugh. It sounded horrible, like a burping frog. Bezewanst gave a slight grimace, a sign he would rather not sell Myne to him.

  The nobles gathered around Bindewald looked at each other, then all tried to persuade him with fake smiles.

  “Lord Bezewanst, I would greatly appreciate your help as High Bishop in acquiring a submission contract with the commoner shrine maiden. Your information and position would prove invaluable,” said one noble.

  “We can imagine that the commoner upstart is unbearable for you to be around. This is a deal in which we all benefit. Am I wrong?” said another.

  It was true that Myne was both unbearable and dangerous. Bezewanst would be relieved to see her gone, and would love to see the face Ferdinand, her “guardian,” would make when she was taken. But Bezewanst was not one to put himself at risk. It would take an enormous amount of luck and strategic wit to avoid Ferdinand’s inevitable attempts to take revenge on him for signing the shrine maiden’s submission contract.

  “We are dealing with a commoner here. She is not much different from the orphan gray robes. Do you disagree?” asked a noble.

  “No, but she is not a gray apprentice. She has the mana befitting of one wearing blue robes. A normal commoner would not wield the power of Crushing.”

  As someone who had been hit with Myne’s Crushing, Bezewanst knew that her mana was reasonably strong. He had admittedly let his guard down, but she did not have the sparse amount of mana one would expect from a commoner Devouring child her age. That was proven when she had performed the Dedication Ritual with Ferdinand—a ritual that could not be performed unless the two people involved had reasonably similar levels of mana.

  “She is extremely rebellious, and I would not like to face her Crushing again. You all have magic tools to protect yourselves, but I have no means of resisting another’s Crushing. Why would I expose myself to such danger just to sell an apprentice shrine maiden?”

  Bindewald, who had been stroking his pudgy chin while listening, took a round, cloth-wrapped something out of the pouch on his hip, then slowly unwrapped it with his plump fingers.

  “This is...?”

  “A Darkness feystone for absorbing mana. The Crushing of a mere commoner apprentice will mean nothing if you have this. Shall I offer this as a gift to celebrate our acquaintance?”

  Bezewanst’s lips curved into a grin as he stared at the pitch-black feystone; no commoner child would be worth fearing with this in his possession. He could make her regret ever standing against one who had archduke blood.

  Bindewald, seeing how closely Bezewanst was staring at the stone, gave a grin of his own as he held it out. “Shall we consider the deal done?” he asked, his eyes gleaming beneath the murky haze. It was clear that he was confident that Bezewanst would agree to sell Myne to him.

  Bezewanst found it irritating to dance upon the palms of others, but every day he found himself wishing he could sell that brat Myne to another duchy and send her parents—those wretched fools who had ignored his orders and fought back—plunging into the depths of despair. There was nothing he wanted more than the black feystone in Bindewald’s hand.

  Bezewanst changed his frame of mind; this wouldn’t be him dancing on Bindewald’s palm, this would be him working for the sake of his older sister. Ferdinand had announced that Myne would be under his custody in front of most of the Knight’s Order. Knowing that she was stolen nonetheless would no doubt send daggers through the High Priest’s heart, and nothing would please Bezewanst’s sister more than witnessing Ferdinand’s suffering. It would also help soothe the grieving heart of Viscountess Dahldolf.

  ...In fact, allying with Count Bindewald will please all of the nobles I have a deep connection with.

  Having established a suitable reason to take the stone offered to him, there was no reason for him not to do so. Bezewanst grinned his own nasty smile while looking into Bindewald’s murky eyes.

  “I eagerly invite you to the temple whenever you are able. My older sister will take care of us no matter what happens.”

  Bezewanst agreeing to help sent a cheery stir through the gathered nobles. Some spoke of how excellent this development was, and although their enthusiasm was no doubt directed solely to the power of his older sister, he no longer gave it any mind.

  “Ah, what the future might hold. I cannot wait to see,” Bezewanst said while raising his cup. His eyes ran along the horizon and saw the rain intensifying over the city of Ehrenfest. But now, even poor weather was music to his ears.

  Caring for Kamil

  It was my first day as the older sister of my cute little brother Kamil. A day to remember for sure, but despite resolving to act like a proper older sister, my arch enemy—sleepiness—launched a surprise attack. Mom’s labor pains had begun at dawn, and Kamil had been born between second and third bell. By that time I w
as already thoroughly exhausted from pacing around the well. I got sleepy right after eating lunch.

  ...No, no! I can’t sleep!

  I could bring water to Mom, do the dishes, and handle all sorts of other chores. At the very least I wanted to keep helping until Dad or Tuuli came back from the feast to help.

  As I battled to keep my increasingly heavy eyelids from drooping, Mom patted the mattress beside her. “You can sleep if you want to, Myne.”

  “I don’t. I need to stay awake until Dad or Tuuli gets back. I’m going to be an amazing older sister that takes care of Kamil all the time,” I replied.

  I had no intention of sleeping now that Kamil was finally here. I had already held him once, and I intended to keep taking care of him.

  Mom gave a gentle smile after hearing my determined announcement. “I appreciate the thought, but my main concern is you falling ill. You should rest if you’re tired,” she said.

  I nodded sadly. Mom was still tired from giving birth; I couldn’t worry her any more than I already had.

  I cleaned up the dishes, took off my shoes, and climbed into bed. After scooting to the side a bit so I wouldn’t roll onto Kamil, I rested on my side and watched his sleeping face before closing my eyes.

  Your big sister will start working hard tomorrow, okay?

  I didn’t last long after deciding to sleep; I felt Mom tuck me in and stroke my head, and then I was gone before I knew it.

  But partway through my nice sleep, I started to hear a high-pitched whining, like a cat meowing. It pulled me back awake. I frowned, not liking the feeling of being forced awake early.

  Shut up... I wanna go back to sleep, I thought, pulling the blanket over my head. But that just made the crying louder.

  ...Gah! Why is there crying so close to me?! Oh, wait! Kamil!

  My eyes shot open and I made immediate eye contact with Mom, who was hefting Kamil up and preparing to breastfeed. She smiled.

  “You slept well, honey. It’s almost time for fifth bell to ring.”

  Despite having been asleep for so long, I still felt like I hadn’t slept enough. I rubbed my eyes and looked at Kamil. My tiny little brother was giving his all to drink Mom’s milk. His sucking mouth, his unfocused, wandering eyes, and his teensy-weensy clenched fists were all super cute.