Chapter 31 - Questions
10 min read ·
A week later, in the outdoor garden among the flower beds, Renée sat across from Bargo over tea, thinking.
'This is so awkward...!'
They had arranged to meet roughly every ten days to discuss affairs in the Holy Empire and her life there. This was their second meeting, but Renée still found Bargo difficult to deal with. His position as Holy Emperor, his bickering with Bera—everything about him felt daunting to her.
Unable to think of anything to say, she had been fiddling with her teacup for some time when Bargo spoke first.
“Are you finding life in the Holy Empire comfortable?”
“Oh, yes! Thanks to you, I'm very comfortable!”
Renée jolted as she answered. Bargo chuckled at her booming reply and continued.
“That is a great relief. An unfamiliar environment must present you with many difficulties. I am sorry that my duties prevent me from looking after you more closely.”
“Not at all! You've done plenty! So much! You're taking wonderful care of me!”
Her answer was just as loud as before. Afraid that falling silent now would only bring back the awkward atmosphere, Renée frantically searched for something else to say.
“Um... Sir Knight helps me a lot, and so does Hella. Oh, and Trebo has been teaching me sacred arts so well, so I'm really doing fine!”
“Oh, that fellow Trebo, you say?”
“Yes! He's such a kind person!”
Renée answered with a bright smile.
From her perspective... she was not wrong. Trebo treated her with great kindness and warmth. In truth, that was largely because Bera stopped him with a warning look whenever he showed any peculiar inclinations, but the blind Renée had no way of knowing that.
Watching her speak so cheerfully about Trebo, Bera felt a deep sigh escape him as he recalled the man's behavior in her presence. Trebo would flush at the sight of her white divine energy, or suddenly look at the sacred mark on her upper arm and smack his lips. Every one of those bizarre antics had tormented Bera no end.
Another lesson would be in order soon.
As Bera continued sighing at the thought, Bargo noticed his expression. His smile deepened as he asked Renée another question.
“I'm glad to hear it. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”
“Hmm...”
Renée considered his question with a thoughtful hum. There was one thing she had wondered about during her stay in the Holy Empire.
“I've noticed that the Holy Empire doesn't have scheduled worship services. Why is that?”
“Ah, so that was what you were wondering.”
“Yes. I remember the priest in our village holding a service every Sunday.”
She had been astonished when the realization suddenly struck her. Wasn't it strange for the Holy Empire, of all places, to have no worship services? Wondering whether they had simply refrained from telling her out of consideration, she had asked Hella, only to hear, ["We've never had services."] That had left her curious about the reason.
Bargo took a sip of tea, then nodded at her question and answered.
“Faith cannot be forced into existence, so we do not arrange gatherings specifically for worship. People pray whenever they feel inclined to in the course of their lives.”
“Um... is that really all right?”
“Hmm, how should I explain...?”
Bargo gently stroked his chin in thought, then raised his eyebrows and continued.
“... Yes, let me put it this way. You feel grateful to Hella, Saintess. Is that not so?”
“Yes, I... do?”
“Is that feeling in your heart even now?”
Renée nodded. Bargo nodded back and continued.
“But that does not mean you dwell on your gratitude at every moment of your life, in every situation. It comes to mind when you meet Hella, or when you remember the help she has given you.”
“That's true.”
It was a fairly obvious point. How could anyone keep thinking the same thought throughout every waking moment while going about their various activities?
“Faith is much the same. Though we hold gratitude for divine grace in our hearts, there is no need to make a deliberate effort to sing its praises. When it comes to mind as we go about our lives, a brief, heartfelt prayer is enough. You might compare it to how you do not hold a banquet simply to express your gratitude to Hella.”
“Hmm. It's simpler than I expected.”
“Faith is not a grand affair. Nor should it be.”
“Why shouldn't it be? It's about praising the gods, isn't it?”
“Because the moment it becomes grand, faults begin to obscure the faith beneath.”
One baffling statement followed another. Everything he said was far removed from what she had always understood. When Renée tilted her head slightly, Bargo continued his explanation in a gentle voice.
“Who do you think needs faith most in this world?”
“Um...”
It was a difficult question, not one she could readily answer.
“I'm not sure...”
“Those who have nothing. Those with not a single lifeline to cling to—or, to put it simply, those whose very survival is in immediate jeopardy. To become a ray of hope that allows them to live another day, something they can lean on and find rest in: that is the role of faith.”
As he spoke, Bargo studied her expression. Her lips parted in an “Oh,” as though she had realized something.
“So that's why it can't be grand. People who are struggling don't have the means to perform elaborate rites.”
“Very good.”
Bargo's smile deepened at the brightness of her expression as she answered.
'She is a good soul.'
The girl chosen by the Supreme God had a warm heart. Despite how difficult things must be for her, she remained unembittered and bright, still trying to be considerate of others even in her circumstances.
If the girl were placed upon the scales of good and evil, they would surely tip toward the side on which she stood.
Bargo had spent his entire life judging the good and evil in others. Now, having taken her measure in the same way, he continued.
“Thus, because we believe faith exists for such people, the Holy Empire does not hold worship services bound by formal procedures.”
“I see...”
Renée gave a small nod to show that she understood. And yet—
“Hmm... I still don't really know.”
That did not mean she fully accepted it.
To Renée, the gods and faith were the cruelest evils in a world that had mocked her. Even after hearing his explanation, she could not take it deeply to heart. Had she not remained blind despite longing so desperately for salvation?
She knew the misery of that moment when a lifetime of longing had been betrayed. That left her skeptical of prayers that would go unanswered.
Watching her expression gradually darken, Bargo guessed at what was on her mind and continued.
“Of course, my words are not the definitive answer, so you need not feel bound by them. Faith is a question each individual believer must answer for themselves.”
Renée nodded. She fidgeted with her fingertips for a moment before a question rose to her lips.
“Um... you said faith exists for the people who are suffering most.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then if faith doesn't save them, wouldn't that leave the people who believed utterly miserable?”
“What makes you think so?”
“People believe in the gods to be saved, don't they? But if they can't even receive that salvation...”
She said no more. Even so, Bargo knew exactly what she meant. She was probably speaking about herself.
“... This much, I believe I can tell you with certainty.”
“What is it?”
“Faith is not salvation. Faith acts as a supporter, giving believers the strength to reach salvation for themselves. Saving yourself is something you must do on your own.”
At his words, Renée turned her face toward him.
“What if someone can't save themselves?”
“Then faith is what supports them so that they do not collapse.”
“Even when things can't get better? Even when there's a cliff ahead, supporting them and driving them on like that... that's wrong.”
There was a strained, suppressed quality to her voice. Hearing the emotion in it, Bera glared fiercely at Bargo. Bargo met that look with a derisive snort, then addressed Renée again.
“Then they need only take another path. Instead of heading toward the cliff, they can turn toward a broad, open road.”
Renée went still. Her expression was blank with disbelief. Looking at her face, Bargo continued in the same gentle tone he had used all along.
“This is something I once told that gloomy fellow as well. Hmm, he was just about your age at the time, Saintess.”
He was speaking of Bera. Renée pressed her lips together and listened closely.
“The gods do not show you the way. They merely watch. You must find your own path, Saintess.”
“But...!”
An objection threatened to spill out, but she said no more. Renée knew that pouring her words out at Bargo would not change the facts. Anything she said now would be nothing but her resentment toward the gods.
She pressed her lips tightly shut, then bowed her head slightly toward Bargo in apology.
“... I'm sorry. I let myself get too emotional.”
“You need not worry about it. Is it not through wrestling with questions that people grow? Give them all the thought they deserve, and work your way toward an answer. You are doing very well, Saintess.”
An awkward silence settled over them. Renée lowered her head, blaming herself for failing to control the sudden surge of emotion. Seeing her like that, Bargo gave a hearty chuckle and offered an apology.
“I'm sorry. It seems this old man has troubled your heart.”
“No! Not at all!”
Renée jolted in surprise as she answered.
Bargo laughed softly at her restless fidgeting and said,
“Let us leave it there for today and be on our way. The breeze is growing chilly.”
“Oh... yes.”
At Bargo's words, Bera approached Renée and took her hand. Bargo watched them with a chuckle.
* * *
On the way back to her quarters, Renée walked with an anxious expression, wondering whether she had been rude to Bargo. She felt foolish. Despite telling herself to work hard and do her best, she had lost control and let her temper show.
A deep sigh escaped her at the thought.
Seeing her sigh, Bera felt anger toward Bargo well up within him and spoke.
“You needn't concern yourself too much. His Holiness is beginning to show signs of senility, that is all.”
Renée's fingertips twitched.
“Y-you shouldn't say things like that...”
“Isn't it human nature to curse even a ruler behind his back? I am human as well, so I fear there is nothing to be done about that.”
His delivery was stiff. The fact that even a joke meant to comfort her came out so rigidly made a small laugh escape Renée.
“... Thank you.”
“There is nothing to thank me for. I merely spoke my mind.”
“Even so.”
As she spoke, Renée was surprised by how quickly his few words had put her at ease. They were nothing special, yet somehow they reached deep inside her. Pursing her lips at the unfamiliar feeling, she asked him a question.
“What do you think, Sir Knight? About... what His Holiness said.”
“I consider it the nonsense of an old man full of fine words. As I have told you before, I do not believe in the glory of the gods.”
“Is that the answer you've found?”
Bera took a moment to choose his words before answering.
“It is not an answer. You might say I am still on my way toward one.”
“The light you told me about?”
“Yes. I believe my answer lies there. It is that light I believe in, not the gods.”
Renée gave a small nod and spoke again.
“I envy you. I don't even know which direction my answer lies in yet.”
Why had she had to become blind? Why had the sacred mark been bestowed upon her? She understood none of it, while Bera was already finding his way toward an answer of his own. That was what stirred the feeling in her.
Watching her lower her head after she spoke, Bera felt something stir within him. His lips moved.
“... You will find it, Saintess. I will help you, so there is no need to feel the least bit rushed.”
It was a conventional reassurance—and the only kind he knew how to offer. No reply followed. Renée merely nodded at his words, bringing the conversation to an end.
Once again, Renée felt the question that had begun troubling her during conversations like this fill her heart.
What was that light? What connection did it have to the sacred mark she had received, that he should treat her so kindly?
It was a question whose answer she could not fathom, and one that left her feeling stifled.
Her emotions began to churn again. Feeling them rise, Renée planted her cane against the ground with a sharp tap.
TAP!