APIBAGS Chapter 24

I made my case emphatically. It wasn't just water—expensive holy water, no less! There was no way he'd get hurt! If anything, any wounds he already had should've healed up clean! Anyway. His passing out is not my fault.

It was only after Michel fell unconscious that the priests finally noticed the commotion and came running. Taking one look at the charred remains of the painting, then at Michel unconscious and soaking wet, then at me, they listened to Raphaela's explanation before finally bowing their heads in thanks.

Among them, the most composed and benevolent-looking elder stepped forward to manage the situation. Then he came toward me.

"Lady Rohanson, we are deeply grateful that you saved one of our temple's knights. The holy water you used to suppress the fire—we will compensate you for it."

"I'll accept it gratefully."

Thank goodness. I'd been afraid I'd thrown that money into the void. I mean, it wasn't entirely wasted since I'd saved someone from burning—but all the same, getting it refilled was a relief. See? This is exactly why you should live virtuously.

"The other worshippers appear to be in shock, so we'll be moving them somewhere to rest."

In shock. As if. These are the same people who'd been standing there watching without lifting a finger even as someone burned right in front of them. I swallowed my feelings and nodded.

The kindly gentleman had apparently finished with me, because now he was moving toward Raphaela. And whispering something—too quietly to catch. He kept darting glances my way, though. They weren't talking about me behind my back while I was standing right here, were they?

No way. Surely not. Heart hammering, I fixed both of them with a long, pointed stare. I'm standing right here. You wouldn't actually be talking about me—right?!

Whether my staring worked or not, Raphaela cleared his throat and changed course.

"Your Excellency, would you excuse us? It would be best to get Sir Michel lying down quickly. And Dame Uriel must be tired as well."

I'd just assumed he was a kindly old gentleman—but he's a bishop? An actual bishop! He's an extremely important person! No wonder he just casually offered to cover the holy water. Do you know how much all that adds up to?!

"Of course. I hadn't thought of that. Leave the cleanup to me, and do go on. As for Lady Rohanson, since she'll need to receive the holy water—"

"I'm afraid the lady will need to come with us as well. The Commander has something to discuss with her. As for the holy water, I'll make sure she receives it before she goes. There's no need for Your Excellency to trouble yourself—if you'd simply let them know in advance, we would be grateful."

Raphaela spat the refusal out rapid-fire. Right, I also needed to go check on Henna and Kanna—I nodded along. Our girls had been waiting long enough.

But shouldn't I collect the holy water now? If I tried to take it later without the bishop right there, was I going to get accused of stealing? He might forget he'd said anything. Hmm. I considered for a moment, then looked over at Jelly.

"Me?"

"Go collect the holy water and put it in the carriage ahead of us."

"Oh come on. You brought me here just to give me grief, didn't you."

Excuse me? Who are you calling a delinquent? Whose fault is it that we ran out of holy water in the first place, huh?! It was all used up treating your wounds—that's what got us here!

"I'll start making your life harder if you don't behave."

"Sure..."

Jelly kept grumbling as his tail curled up tight.

"I'll be sending my escort."

Bishop Excellency made a deeply sour face but nodded.

"All settled then? We'll take our leave." At Raphaela's word, Uriel hoisted the collapsed Michel onto her back. She looked slender, but she lifted him without difficulty—I couldn't help but stare in admiration. Raphaela slid up next to me while I was watching.

He'd been looking at me like I was some kind of garbage not long ago, and now he was acting familiar? But—

"...I apologize for the delay. Thank you for saving Michel. He lost consciousness, but there's not a mark on him thanks to the holy water. I truly am grateful."

Raphaela had been watching me out of the corner of his eye, hesitating, and then he offered thanks. His words were careful enough to make me feel guilty for all my grumbling. Wait—what? I'm actually a little moved.

"Thank you, my lady."

Uriel added her own thanks. Even with a man far larger than herself strapped to her back, she managed a bow without a single sign of strain. Long strands of Michel's hair were—drip, drip—dripping steadily onto her back. Didn't that feel soggy? Uriel seemed unbothered—I was the one who couldn't stop thinking about it for absolutely no reason.

"Will it be all right, sending just the one escort?"

Why? Worried it'd be too heavy? She's currently carrying a full-grown man and she's worried about Jelly lifting holy water flasks?

"Jelly's fine."

He's not just anyone—he's a werewolf, and a confirmed sub-male lead, no less.

"My lady, you... were right to send your escort ahead. I'd recommend not getting too close to the bishop. He has quite a nasty temperament beneath that exterior."

I glanced back. The Jabaniya bishop's face had gone thoroughly unpleasant as he watched Raphaela. Not a trace of the earlier warmth. Why suddenly? Thinking back through the exchange, nothing seemed out of order... Unless.

Oh. I had one theory. He was in a bad mood because Raphaela had left before him. High-ranking people are always obsessed with that kind of protocol. I hadn't pegged the bishop as that type—turns out he's a complete ceremony-obsessed traditionalist. Who knew.

After the commotion settled, the priests had finally come running. A deacon must have fetched him—Bishop Jabaniya arrived with priests carrying buckets of water.

He was the sort who normally wouldn't deign to glance at anything beneath his station—someone dying, a wing of the temple collapsing, it made no difference. And yet here he was, going to the trouble of coming all the way over here. Still has his nose for these things, that old man.

"Raphaela... what's all this?"

He'd obviously been briefed, and yet he was affecting ignorance. Behind that face he puts on—all warmth and compassion—Bishop Jabaniya harboured something considerably more ferocious. The kindly exterior made it easy to misjudge him, but he was an exceptionally selfish and cold-blooded creature.

Uriel once said that Jabaniya and Raphaela had much in common, suggesting Raphaela suffered from a kind of displaced self-loathing—and it wasn't entirely wrong. Though comparing them felt unfair to Raphaela. At least Raphaela's conscience was intact. That fox over there didn't give a damn whether people were hurt.

Unfortunately, Gabriel—the commander Raphaela served under—had fallen into Jabaniya's clutches as a child and was still being diligently used to this day.

The commander said it was simply repaying a debt, a favor received long ago—but from where Raphaela stood, the bishop was using him as a chess piece, nothing more. And the favor Raphaela had heard described was nothing remarkable.

"A fire broke out in the painting. Lady Rohanson poured holy water to extinguish it. Sir Michel sustained burns, but he's uninjured—the holy water saw to that."

"O Rahel..."

"We arrived too late. We nearly lost one of our precious knights. I have no excuse to make."

"Not at all, Your Excellency. You were delayed drawing water—that's all."

That old fox. The surrounding priests were watching the bishop with admiring eyes, as though he were some earthly vessel of Rahel. Raphaela could stake both wrists and the unconscious Michel on the fact that Jabaniya had come late on purpose.

Raphaela had thought the same thing—that it might be better if the painting burned completely—so Jabaniya had most likely left it long enough for the painting to burn down to ash and then some before making his leisurely entrance.

If the bishop had been genuinely charitable, he would have fetched water from the courtyard fountain nearest to hand, declared he'd cover the cost himself, and rushed here—doing exactly what Evangeline Rohanson had done with the holy water. Raphaela was briefly struck dumb—he couldn't believe he'd just thought of Evangeline Rohanson as righteous.

From the look of things, Jabaniya had gone all the way to the outer courtyard and drawn from the decorative fountain there instead—clearly never intending to arrive early. The fact that no one around him was questioning it showed just how thoroughly conditioned they were to that performance of his.

Making an enemy of him—truly, just looking at the man, you could tell it would be exhausting. The one saving grace was that on the matter of Donau's painting, they were still holding the same position. The most prominent champion of those who'd praised the painting had always been the bishop's longtime political rival.

"Come now—we arrived late, so the least we can do is help with the cleanup."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

At the bishop's word, the priests set down their buckets and began straightening the hall. Some swept and wiped at the ash and soot on the floor; others attended to the worshippers still lingering.

"Ma'am, might I suggest you head home? Wouldn't you agree it's rather dangerous with the fire and all."

"Quite. Are you certain you haven't been hurt anywhere?"

Of course no answers came. These were mostly people of some standing, and one couldn't simply push them out the door—so the futile, unanswered suggestions just kept repeating.

"Just go! Are you planning to spend the rest of your lives here?"

One priest, patience finally spent, raised his voice. He seemed to realize immediately that he'd overstepped and clapped a hand over his mouth—but fortunately, the other side didn't appear to notice.

"I mean, the painting's already burned to nothing. What exactly is there left to look at."

At the priest's lament, a response finally came back. The noblewoman he'd been speaking to turned, cheeks flushed, and pointed at Evangeline Rohanson.

"They're looking at that young lady, you say?"

The priest swept his gaze around the room. How had he not noticed it before— every eye in the hall was fixed on that pale and lovely young noblewoman.