TWWSY 60

Chapter 60

“You must not threaten the people. Let them see that order is maintained and resources are distributed by the Etalon army. Today we must not be conquerors but saviors.”

Mia ignored Etienne’s rebuttal and spoke firmly.

Etienne sighed and nodded. He knew he would have to endure unnecessary reproach from the Emperor later, but there was nothing wrong with Mia’s words. Already at a numerical disadvantage, there was no need to create more enemies.

Soaring pillars and a ceiling that seemed to touch the sky surrounded stained-glass windows of every color. The dim twilight filtered through them, casting a crimson glow over the altar at the center of the temple.

According to Aetosian doctrine, the power and blessing of the goddess were perceived by humans in the form of light. The architecture here in Etalon followed the same religious tradition.

A woman stepped inside the cool temple. Thud, thud—the dull sound of her footsteps echoed in the vast space.

Her stride only stopped before the altar at the center, closest to the divine. Before the marble statue of the goddess who looked down upon all people, she knelt. At a glance, her posture looked like prayer, but her back was unnaturally straight—

—as if she knew nothing of humility before the divine.

Though Mia could not commune with the goddess as the high priests did, she too had once heard the voice of Aetos directly. Yet that did not make her a special believer. It had only happened once, and it could barely be called a blessing—rather, it was a choice.

Mia closed her eyes. Even after more than five years, the voice of the goddess still rang vividly in her mind.

“…Your courage shall be a shield, and your wisdom a sword. O chosen of Aetos, set right the heretic lands with justice, and show the foolish the proper path.”

Gasp—sounds of people inhaling filled the hall. It seemed some had forgotten even to breathe as the oracle descended. That was only natural. Even for high nobles and priests, to hear the goddess’s call once in a lifetime was rare.

And this oracle was about none other than the hero foretold by the goddess herself at the founding of the Empire. To be distracted by the pitiful breaths of mortals and miss that glorious voice was unthinkable sacrilege to servants of Aetos.

Those gathered had endured fierce competition to be present here, performed complex purification rituals, and consumed herbs said to heighten divine sensitivity. Their fervor was understandable.

A strangely elated silence filled the temple. Even those dissatisfied that the glory of “hero” would be granted again to the eldest daughter of House Blanchard could not conceal their joy at simply being part of this historic moment.

Faces intoxicated with happiness looked almost dazed. The high priest at the front, forgetting even his dignity, wiped tears onto his sleeve.

When the wave of emotion finally settled, the high priest cleared his throat. His attention was obvious, and soon all eyes turned to one place: the altar where the goddess’s voice had been heard, and the woman kneeling motionless before it.

The prophesied hero did not move for a long time after the oracle ended. In truth, she could not. Though young, she was a seasoned politician—but even she had not been prepared for something like this.

Her famed quick wits, sharp enough to incur even the Emperor’s ire, failed to function before such an absurd reality. She was so stunned that she didn’t even seem aware every gaze in the hall was fixed on her.

“…Ha!”

“….”

“Lady!”

It took several urgent calls before the muddle of thoughts was pierced. Even then, the hero—no, Mia—was not fully herself. Only when she saw the worried priest lowering himself to check on her did she gather all her strength to finally rise.

“…This shall be an everlasting honor for my house.”

Leaving those words behind, she turned from the altar and walked toward the temple’s exit. Her drained voice carried none of her usual vigor, and even the Emperor, taken aback, could not rebuke her discourtesy. Her unsteady steps were followed by many lingering eyes.

There had long been a tradition that in the Empire’s darkest hour, a hero chosen by the goddess would appear to quell calamity. That prophecy, testified to by the first Emperor himself, was so well known that even the uneducated masses knew it.

Of course, the spread of such tales was largely due to deliberate efforts—to instill pride and belonging in the people as descendants of a noble god.

But who could have imagined that hero would be a duke’s daughter who had never once wielded a sword? Even among those who claimed to have heard the goddess’s voice directly, objections were fierce.

Could a woman who had lived her whole life in politics even fight properly? Had the goddess made some kind of mistake?

Words bordering on blasphemy were spoken without hesitation right before Mia’s face. The sharp remarks, as if to stab her, might have been born of distrust—or perhaps of jealousy that the hero should have been themselves.

Either way, the Mia of old would have defended herself. There had always been those determined to drag her down with slander, and she had many ways to answer them.

But in the end, Mia never refuted those words. For she herself lacked confidence in her own power.

Perhaps their accusations weren’t entirely wrong.

When Mia finally spoke, her words carried edges she had not managed to smooth away.

“Are you pleased with me now?”

She lifted her head. Her resentful gaze fell upon the massive statue of the goddess behind the altar.

Bathed in colored light from the windows, the golden statue looked strangely alien. The goddess, gazing down upon all, seemed as emotionless as the values she was said to embody.

“According to the prophecy, I acted as commanded. I spread Etalon’s name far and wide, I burned the heretics’ temples. What remains undone will proceed as fate intends.”

Her raised voice rang through the empty space. Her nails, lengthened from endless nights of planning, dug into her palms.

“I remember that you gave me a new life. For that, my faith remains unshaken. Even if my limbs are cut off and all my abilities stripped away, I will advance thinking only of your glory, O Goddess.”

Mia gave a bitter smile. The glory of the goddess, after all, was for Etienne to return triumphant to his homeland. So even if she acted only with his survival in mind, her words were not untrue.

“And yet, it seems you no longer need my strength. Was it only meant to be used a few times in battles hardly worthy of the name, then withdrawn? You left me with only a faint power, enough to topple a single heretics’ temple before vanishing again…”

Her voice dwindled, now little more than a whisper. She herself could not tell whether the emotion spilling from her lips was despair or anger.

“If I was nothing more than a disposable pawn, then you should not have discarded me this way. At least let me fulfill my role… let me live up to the name of hero you bestowed…”

Clack, clack. Footsteps cut off her heated words. Mia did not turn. The temple was never hers alone, and here in a foreign land there was a fair chance it was someone she did not know. She ignored the presence behind her and lifted her head again.

If it was someone who should not hear this, she could deal with them later.

“Blasphemer.”

Before Mia could open her mouth, an angry voice rang out. It was far closer than she had expected.

“How dare you defile this sacred space with your very presence.”