Authors: Hasekura Isuna
“Ah...yes, you’re right. I’d...I’d never noticed until you pointed it out.”
This was the first smile from Elsa that Lawrence had ever seen, and though it was small, it had a tenderness to it that seemed to suit a girl of the Church.
It struck Lawrence all the more, given how severe she had been at their first meeting.
The fact that he would soon cause that smile to disappear filled him with regret, as though he was extinguishing a flame that had been difficult to light.
“Then let us pray. Are you prepared?”
“Ah, before we start,” said Lawrence, putting down his knapsack, removing his coat, and taking a step toward Elsa. “I must give my confession.”
The unexpected request gave Elsa pause, but after a moment, she answered, “Er, well, in that case, there’s another room—”
“No, I will give it here, before God.”
Lawrence was adamant as he approached Elsa, and she did not quail, merely nodding. “Very well,” she said with a quiet incline of her head, every inch the devout priest.
It seemed that Elsa’s desire to inherit Father Franz’s position was not solely for the village’s benefit.
She saw Holo quietly retreat to the rear of the sanctuary, and then putting her hands together and bowing her head, she recited a prayer.
When she lifted her face again, she was a loyal servant of God. “Confess your sins, for God is always forgiving to those who are honest.”
Lawrence took a deep breath. He was just as likely to mock God as he was to pray, but here in the middle of the sanctuary, he couldn’t help but feel a certain trepidation.
He exhaled slowly, then knelt down on the floor. “I have told a lie.”
“What kind of lie?”
“I have been deceptive for my own gain.”
“You have confessed your sin before God. Now have you the courage to tell the truth?”
Lawrence raised his head. “I have.”
“Though God knows all, he still wishes to hear you speak your transgressions. Do not be afraid. God is always merciful to those whose faith is good.”
Lawrence closed his eyes. “I lied today.”
“In what way?”
"I tricked someone using a false pretense.”
Elsa paused for a moment, then spoke. “For what reason?”
"There was something I had to know, and in order to learn it, I lied
to
get close to the source of that knowledge.”
"...To whom did you lie...?”
Lawrence looked up and answered, “To you, Miss Elsa.”
She was obviously stunned.
"I have now confessed my lie before God, and I have told the truth." Lawrence stood. He was a full head taller than Elsa. “I am seeking Diendran Abbey, and I have come to ask you its location.”
Elsa bit her lip. Though her eyes were filled with hatred, she lacked the resolve of their first encounter, the strength to turn away any request.
There was a reason Lawrence had delivered his confession here.
He
had to trap Elsa, whose faith was plainly deep, here—here before God.
No,” Lawrence corrected himself. “I have lied again. I have not come here to ask the location.”
Confusion spread over Elsa’s face like oil over water.
"I have come to ask whether this
is
Diendran Abbey.”
Elsa backed away, but the depression caused by Father Franz’s years of devotion caused her to stumble.
She stood before God.
Here, of all places, she could not lie.
"Miss Elsa, this is Diendran Abbey, and Father Franz was also Louis Lana Schtinghilt. Do I not speak the truth?”
On
the verge of tears, Elsa looked away, as though she childishly believed that as long as she did not shake her head, her response was not a lie.
But her reaction was as good as a confirmation.
“Miss Elsa, we simply wish to know the contents of the pagan tales that Father Franz collected. It is not for business and certainly has nothing to do with Enberch.”
Elsa gave a short gasp, then snapped her mouth shut so as not to let anything escape.
“Am I wrong in thinking that the reason you wish to keep the fact that this is Diendran Abbey a secret is because Father Franz's collected records are here?”
A drop of sweat trickled down slowly from Elsa’s temple.
It was as good as an admission.
Lawrence casually closed his fist, signaling Holo.
“What you’re worried about, Miss Elsa, is Enberch learning of Father Franz’s activities, correct? All we want is to see his writ ings. We want to see them badly enough that we’re willing to employ these upsetting methods.”
Elsa opened her mouth almost involuntarily. “Wh-who...who
are
you?”
Lawrence did not answer immediately, simply looking at Elsa.
Elsa, who planned to bear the burdens of the church upon her slender frame, looked back at him uncertainly.
And then—
“Who are we? That is a question to which it is difficult to give a satisfying answer,” interjected Holo.
Elsa suddenly looked over at Holo, as if only just realizing that she was present.
“There is a reason, though, why we—no, why
I
am forcing this issue.”
“...What...what reason?” managed Elsa, her voice choked as she seemed on the verge of breaking into tears.
Holo nodded. “This reason.”
Proving that they were not lackeys sent from Enberch was as difficult as trying to prove they were not demons.
But just as an angel might show its wings to prove that it was, at least not a demon, there was a way for Holo and Lawrence to prove that whoever they were, they were not from Enberch.
Holo pulled her hood off, revealing her ears and tail.
"They are quite real. Would you care to touch them?”
Elsa’s head drooped forward. For a moment, Lawrence thought she was nodding, her hands clutched to her heart.
"Ugh—”
But then with a strange groan, Elsa fainted dead away.
After placing Elsa on the simple bed, Lawrence sighed.
He had thought that being moderately threatening would be effective, but evidently they’d gone too far.
Elsa had fainted but would probably awaken soon.
Lawrence found his eyes wandering around the room.
Though the Church certainly extolled the virtues of frugality, this room was so bare and empty that Lawrence found himself wondering if Elsa truly lived in it.
Turning right upon entering the church led to a living room with a fireplace. At the far corner of the room was a hall that ran
parallel to the sanctuary, leading up to a staircase to the second floor.
The bed was on the second floor, and Lawrence had carried her
up
t
he stairs and laid her on the bed. The only other objects in the room were a desk and a chair, an open book of scripture and exegesis, and a few letters. The only decoration was a loop of braided straw on one wall.
There were two second-floor rooms; the other bedroom seemed to be used for storage.
Though he was not intentionally looking around, Lawrence could
tell at a glance that the room did not contain any of Father Franz’s writings.
The storeroom contained various items used by the church throughout the year—fabric with ceremonial embroidery, candlesticks, swords, and shields. They were all covered in dust, as though they had not been used in a very long time.
Lawrence closed the storeroom’s door. He heard the sound of light footsteps coming up the stairs, and when he turned to look, he saw it was Holo.
No doubt she had walked all the way around the hallway that encircled the sanctuary, making a quick check of the interior of the church.
The vague displeasure on her face was probably not over concern for the still-unconscious Elsa, but rather because she had failed to find any of Father Franz’s writings.
“I suppose it will be quickest to ask, after all. If they are hidden, we’ll never find them,” she admitted.
“You can’t sniff them out?” said Lawrence without thinking, but Holo only smiled at him, and he hastily added, “Sorry!”
“So, is she yet asleep? I hardly expected her to be so frail.”
“I don’t know if that’s it. I’m starting to wonder if her circumstances are more difficult than I’d imagined.”
He knew he shouldn’t, but Lawrence couldn’t help reading the letters that were on her desk. Once he finished, he had a much better understanding of the things Elsa had done to stave off Enberch’s intervention.
She had claimed to other churches that like Enberch, Tereo followed the orthodox faith and had sought the support of a nearby feudal lord in order to prevent Enberch from attacking.
But looking at the lord’s response, Lawrence noticed that he seemed to give his support more out of a debt to Father Franz than out of any trust Elsa had won on her own.
There were also letters from large dioceses that even Lawrence had heard of.
On the whole, everything was as Lawrence had guessed.
It was not hard to imagine the days when Elsa would have been frantically anticipating the letter’s arrival. Even Lawrence, an outsider, could imagine the awful suspense she must have felt.
Nonetheless, he had to guess that her greatest hardship lay somewhere else entirely.
The dust-covered artifacts in the storeroom told a tale all too
clear.
Though she was holding off Enberch—with the elder’s assistance—it seemed doubtful that any of the villagers felt any gratitude.
It was certainly true that they regarded the church with a measure of disdain.
"...Mm.”
As Lawrence was thinking on it, he heard a small sound coming from the bed.
It seemed Elsa was awake.
Lawrence raised his hand to stop Holo, who looked ready to pounce like a wolf that has heard a hare’s footsteps. He cleared his throat softly. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Elsa did not jerk herself upright, but simply opened her eyes slowly. Her expression was complicated, as though she was unsure whether to feel surprised, frightened, or angry. She seemed to settle on a vaguely troubled look.
She nodded her head slightly “Are you not going to tie me up?”
They were bold words.
“If it seemed like you were going to call for someone, I was prepared for that. I have rope in my knapsack.”