SALP Chapter 33

Lanthe returned not to Vigo's room but to her second-floor chamber.

It was the room she'd unexpectedly acquired a few days ago when he'd driven her out. How welcome it was to have a space—temporary though it might be—that she could manage and use as her own.

Though when night fell, Vigo still barged in at will, claimed half the bed, and slept like the dead. That, at least, remained unchanged.

"Beautiful..."

She smiled contentedly as she wiped the angel statue clean with a damp cloth.

Once properly cleaned, the pure white marble gleamed with newfound luster.

The angel of Hestan.

What expression would Father Conor make if she presented this to him? Would he be utterly astonished?

The sculptures decorating Eltzweig's Hestan Church were all carved from wood. Pieces that seemed shaped by the priests' or congregants' own hands—earnest in their devotion but simple in their amateur craftsmanship.

It seemed not solely a matter of the church's poverty. Even acquiring an angel statue appeared difficult. Hadn't the merchant guild—with trading posts across the entire Oden continent—said that both supply and demand for angel statues were exceptionally rare?

"What are you doing?"

Vigo's voice came from the doorway.

He didn't enter the room, merely stood leaning against the wall, watching her.

"Did things go well with Knight Warner?"

At Lanthe's question, he only frowned instead of answering.

It had probably been a futile argument anyway, hadn't it? Less an argument than one-sided harassment, but still.

"You may have already heard from Knight Warner, but I've decided to build the altar with the most expensive materials. Here—this is the estimate I received from the guild head. Read it over and approve it."

She pulled out the paper the guild head had given her and held it out.

"You received what?"

Vigo tilted his head, still frowning.

"The cost estimate for constructing the altar. Isn't that normally what you get?"

Though he had no reason to feel embarrassed, Lanthe asked rather dejectedly.

"...It's about temple construction, and you went to the trouble of getting that?"

"Yes. You're the one paying for it. You're just a worshipper, not someone connected to the temple."

At her sullen words, Vigo's face contorted strangely. He seemed to be suppressing laughter.

"The timid high priest's face must have been worth seeing."

"What's wrong with getting it? It's fine not to receive something you should have, but there's no problem with receiving something you don't need, is there?"

Feeling awkward, Lanthe deliberately adopted a prim expression and stuffed the estimate back into her pocket. She'd have to secretly throw it away when no one was looking. For the sake of destroying evidence.

"Give it here. If you went to the trouble of getting it, you should give it to me."

Only then did he enter the room. Without even glancing at the estimate she handed him, he tucked it into his coat's inner pocket.

"Did you want something like an angel statue?"

His quiet tone sounded both cynical and strangely wistful—though perhaps that was over-interpretation.

"Ah, this. I just happened to find it and bought it. I wanted to give it to the church as a gift."

Though Lanthe answered deliberately brightly, his eyes turned savage again, displeased by something.

"You bought that to give to Sean?"

"Call him Father, Vigo. And this is a gift for the church, not for Father."

"Same difference. Why would you pay tribute to that man?"

"What tribute? Is it so strange for a congregant to want to gift their church a decoration? I paid 5 della for this. Just the meals I've had at church on Sundays must have exceeded 5 della worth."

"Give it to me."

He extended his hand without preamble.

"What?"

"I said give it to me. The angel statue."

The absurdity made Lanthe burst out laughing.

"This is ridiculous, really. You're being completely absurd."

"I'm not being ridiculous at all. I'm serious."

Isn't that even stranger?

Lanthe narrowed her eyes and stared at him.

"Give it to me. I want it."

Just as she'd pressed her palm toward him earlier demanding money, Vigo thrust his palm before Lanthe's eyes. He wasn't a child. Did he think throwing a tantrum with that fearsome adult male face would work?

"Don't be ridiculous. What would a follower of Batiya do with an angel statue of Hestan?"

She looked at him with suspicious eyes and asked sternly.

He answered with a perfectly composed expression.

"I like angels too. Didn't you know?"

"I know. When Vigo Kiyer of Roas used to pray to the angel with his small, pretty hands clasped together, I'm sure he did."

"I wonder what backward church's impure priest teaches that only people with pretty hands can pray."

"You don't pray anymore anyway, whether your hands are pretty or rough."

"No. I do sometimes. When necessary."

"Get lost. I have no angel statue to give someone who only prays when it's convenient."

Lanthe shifted aside to avoid him as he sat close before her, hiding the angel statue behind her back.

Ah, now that she said it aloud, she realized she had no right to keep this angel statue either... Her conscience seemed to breathe a sigh of relief that she'd decided to gift it to the church after all.

"Damn it, who cares about prayer? Hand it over."

"Wow, now you're openly trying to extort it."

"I'll pay you."

He spoke somewhat seriously, as if he meant it.

"I'll just buy it. How much do you want?"

Buy it? Going that far?

"Why are you suddenly so greedy for an angel statue?"

Even she felt genuinely puzzled.

Wasn't this something Vigo could have acquired anytime if he'd wanted? He wasn't lacking money, nor would he have been unable to commission a craftsman to carve one.

"...Because I want it."

After a brief pause, Vigo's answer came with a faint flush on his cheeks.

Because I want it. He couldn't even think of a plausible excuse. It only seemed like sheer spite—refusing to let Father Conor have it no matter what.

"Are you enemies with Father Conor or something? From what I've seen, he prays healing for you and even nags you, so you don't seem to be on seriously bad terms."

"Just tell me how much you want to hand it over to me."

Vigo pressed close against her. Close enough that if he reached around her back, he could snatch the angel statue.

The fresh scent of grass and earth drifted from him.

"You didn't even pay full price for it anyway. I'll pay you properly. For that size, it would normally cost about 3 or 4 krone."

She glared at him with wary eyes.

She didn't know the market price for sculptures. But she had a feeling his words were roughly accurate. At least he didn't seem to be quoting a lowballed price. The Roberia guild head had said he'd accept 1 krone at a significant discount.

"I'll give you 5 krone."

No. She mustn't waver.

The gold coin Warner had handed over when paying for the angel statue flickered before Lanthe's eyes. That coin that had looked quite heavy. Five such coins...

"How about it? I'm offering the price of a popular goddess statue."

Vigo curled up one corner of his mouth. The confident expression of someone certain they'd win the negotiation.

"B-but this isn't something you can easily obtain."

So absolutely not for sale!

Lanthe firmly refused, turning her head away.

Then.

"10 krone."

Vigo doubled the amount in one stroke.

"Forty times what you paid. Still don't want it?"

It was an overwhelming sum. An amount that made Lanthe's heart pound wildly just hearing it, as if seized by fear.

The 5 della she'd received as an errand fee hadn't been a small amount to begin with. But forty times that...

"If you went to Floretta and shoveled horse manure ten hours a day for about half a year, you might earn that much. Still won't sell?"

That much money...

"Think carefully. Instead of the sculpture, what if you donated 10 krone to your church? With that money, you could do more valuable things than what a small marble sculpture can accomplish."

Would he really spend such a large sum impulsively on me?

"Your church priests who wear tattered rags even in midwinter could buy warm coats, or for someone like Sean who loves hypocrisy, hosting meals for hundreds of poor people in the name of God would bring great joy."

More valuable work.

Money to do more things...

"Besides, an angel statue is pearls before swine for your church. If it were a large temple, maybe, but what good will decorating a church with fewer than ten congregants with a marble angel statue do? Right? Choose the practical option."

He urged her with persuasive words.

"But..."

But...

Though his words sounded thoroughly realistic and rational, they were also sad words.

Following his logic, shouldn't poor people never have even one sculpture to comfort their hearts?

"I know too."

Lanthe spoke while clutching the angel statue tightly, as if hearing even one more word of persuasion would make her let it go.

Don't be swayed by his words. He's only making forced arguments to obtain something he doesn't even need.

"Food and clothing are the most important problems for people. But you can't live on those alone. Because you're human."

She herself had lived in poverty.

Recently, she'd briefly enjoyed affluence. In Newbella, she'd eaten the finest foods from mountain and sea at every meal, adorned herself with new gold and jewels daily. With maids fawning "Princess, Princess," she could delegate every troublesome task and live without lifting a finger.

But such abundance alone wasn't enough.

It had no value by itself.

The dry bread and watery soup she'd eaten in Roas were far better. In her poor hometown, she'd lived without knowing want.

Because she didn't know better things existed? What did that matter? She had no need to know others' desires and happiness, nor did she want to. Why should she be forced to learn and desire better things she lacked?

"I'm not selling this. It doesn't even have great value to you."

Lanthe shook her head firmly, showing no intention of changing her mind.