Chapter 128
#Chapter 128: Beggar Gritz (4) - Monologue
Outsiders call this place where we live Velaria (Velaria).
A land hidden behind a mysterious veil.
They say that, like a woman's face hidden behind a gauze veil, outsiders can neither see inside nor know what lies within.
A basin surrounded on all sides by mountain ranges and rivers.
The only route connecting it to the outside is a treacherous mountain path barely wide enough for a single wagon.
Put that way, it sounds like a terribly difficult place to live, but the people who live here don't find it particularly hard or painful.
No, compared to the outside, it's actually quite prosperous.
I have never been anywhere else, so I can't compare it myself, but that's what the grandparents say, at least.
This land is blessed.
It has abundant water, fertile soil, and farming yields several times what ordinary land can produce.
It is rich in many other resources as well, making it a place where everything can be handled within its borders without needing to trade with the outside.
They said people like us—orphans and beggars like you—benefit the most from that abundance.
In a truly poor land, in a truly poor domain, things like orphanages and beggars couldn't exist in the first place.
If your arms and legs work, you naturally have to work as labor; then, if some part of your body breaks and you can no longer move, you're simply discarded and left to die.
In a society with no room to spare, whether mentally or materially, there can be neither people who give to others nor people who survive through that generosity.
That's right.
This land is a blessed land.
More precisely, it is a land blessed by the Guardian Deity.
The Guardian Deity originally lived in that distant sky, but one day, while looking down at the earth, They discovered the people living in poverty here.
Taking pity on those who were thin as reeds and had no light in their eyes, the Guardian Deity descended to the earth and bestowed a blessing on this land, transforming what had once been dry and barren into fertile soil through Their power.
Once they planted crops, they reaped abundant harvests; fruit grew thick on the trees, and people no longer had to go hungry as they once did.
The Guardian Deity married a maiden who lived here, and their descendants became priests who worshiped the Guardian Deity and kings who ruled the people.
That is the family now called Carnelian.
Isn't Carnelian a lordly family?
Well, that's what I've heard, at least.
This Velaria is merely part of a larger country outside, and that country's king is supposedly the liege lord of the Carnelian family.
But it doesn't really mean anything.
As I said earlier, this land is isolated.
No matter what orders they issue from outside, if Carnelian ignores them, that's simply the end of it.
Unless they send an army to invade along treacherous mountain paths where, at best, a single horse can somehow pass and where it is impossible even to dream of wagons traveling through.
So the king outside is content with having his sovereignty acknowledged to an appropriate extent, while Carnelian plays along by calling itself a vassal in name only. That's the extent of their compromise.
You think I know that in astonishing detail for someone who only heard it from grandparents?
Well, I only used them as representative examples; I didn't hear all of this from one or two people.
I've liked wandering around and chatting since I was little, so I badgered all sorts of people in all sorts of places to tell me their stories.
There were peddlers who had crossed over the mountain paths, wanderers who had come here exhausted by the harsh life outside, and adventurers who had heard rumors of this mysterious domain hidden behind a veil and come looking for it.
Ah, since the king came up, this is something I should mention: apparently, Velaria has kept changing masters.
Whenever the country outside collapsed and was replaced, they demanded loyalty from here, and apparently Velaria responded appropriately each time.
They say the most recent collapse happened when several countries were smashed by some fellow called the Demon King or whatever. Mr. Gritz, have you ever heard of the Demon King?
According to an adventurer with a talent for drinking and a red nose, it was a dragon larger than a fortress that breathed poison from its mouth.
Huh? That's not right? A knight in black armor? Aww, I was deceived.
…Hmm, somehow the story wandered off somewhere else. Please understand; it was because you asked me something about lords and whatnot, Mr. Gritz.
Anyway, the prosperity of this land is all thanks to the Guardian Deity's blessing.
That's why people called priestesses are chosen to thank the Guardian Deity and attend to Their needs.
A priestess serves at the Guardian Deity's side for roughly ten years, and in return is granted eternal life in the Guardian Deity's mansion in the sky.
And when the priestess who was there goes up to the sky, the “next priestess,” who has been waiting, takes her place. It keeps repeating like that.
…I know. It's a story that seems suspicious somehow.
Going up to the sky and eternal life—however plausible the words sound, the people left behind have no way to verify any of it.
Suspicious people think of the priestess as nothing more than a living sacrifice, while the deeply devout say that such thoughts are blasphemous.
Unfortunately, the latter voices are louder.
Because the Carnelian family, which rules this land, is descended from the Guardian Deity.
How could anyone openly badmouth the lord unless they were as crazy as I am? Hmm? That's strange. This is where you're supposed to object.
…You're saying I only stated a fact, so there was nothing to point out separately? That's harsh.
Anyway… it isn't as though there have never been people in the past who harbored doubts like I did.
One of them even refused to become a priestess outright, saying she didn't want to die.
People felt sorry for that priestess candidate, but at the same time, they watched the Carnelian family's reaction.
They were worried that the family might become furious and punish not only the priestess candidate, but the people around her as well, for no reason.
But for some reason, Carnelian did not punish the priestess candidate at all.
They said that what mattered was the priestess's own will, and if the priestess herself refused, there was nothing they could do.
The candidate, now free to avoid becoming a priestess, rejoiced and thanked Carnelian, and it seemed as though everything would work out smoothly.
That is, until a record-breaking famine began the very next year.
The rivers dried up, the earth cracked, and even the trees lost their vitality.
Did you know? Compared with other domains of the same size, Velaria supposedly has an enormous population.
They said that because the harvests were always good, the population was abundant as well.
But put another way, that means there are a lot of mouths to feed.
And since there is almost no contact with the outside, there was nowhere else to turn for help.
People said it was all because of the priestess candidate.
She had refused to serve the Guardian Deity, and in anger, the deity had withdrawn the blessing They bestowed upon this land.
They told her to go to the Guardian Deity immediately and fulfill her role.
Though according to my grandfather, who experienced those events firsthand, only a handful of people raised their voices, while most simply remained silent… in that situation, that silence amounted to tacit agreement.
Even so, the priestess candidate held out.
In the end, she lashed out at those who berated her, saying, “Aren't you telling me to go die in your place? If becoming a priestess is such an honor, you do it instead.”
The people were furious, but they couldn't lay a hand on the priestess candidate. What if divine punishment descended?
And so.
Her older brother hanged himself in her place.
His corpse hung from a large tree near the priestess's house, dangling by the neck as though meant for the priestess candidate to see.
The incident was ruled a suicide.
It didn't matter that there were signs of a blunt-force blow to her brother's head, or that the rope's configuration was strange for a suicide.
The people of the city decided it was suicide, so suicide it became.
They said he had been ashamed of his sister's wrongdoing, unable to face the people, and had therefore died.
The priestess candidate could hold out no longer.
Or perhaps she simply chose not to. If she held out any longer, her remaining family would be unable to “bear the shame of having such a worthless family member,” too.
After she accepted her role and vanished from the city, the land slowly regained its fertility.
Of course, that didn't make the ruined harvests recover immediately, but between their reserves and scrounging through the mountains, they managed somehow to last until the following year.
And so people learned.
Ah, so that story handed down from ancient times hadn't simply been made up.
The Guardian Deity truly existed, and this land was prosperous because of Them.
And if someone chosen as a priestess failed to fulfill her role, a great disaster would come, they realized.
One person every ten years.
If only one person is sacrificed, the countless people living in this land can live in prosperity.
From the perspective of the person chosen as priestess, it's an offer that is quite literally impossible to refuse.
So I decided not to refuse either.
No—if anything, I decided to accept it willingly.
But, you know.
Even if I threw a tantrum and said I hated it, even if I trembled in fear, all I'd do would be make things difficult for the people around me.
That wouldn't give the orphanage director or the other children any way to help me.
No, they mustn't try to help me, either.
The people of the city treat me and my acquaintances with an attitude somewhere between guilt and discomfort while I am accepting the role of priestess, but the moment I stop trying to fulfill it, they'll turn aggressive.
Even if only one person in a hundred changed that way, it would still be irresistible violence to powerless victims like us.
So I smiled.
I tried to show them that I was all right, that I ate good food, wore good clothes, and received lots of money to spend lavishly, and that after suffering for just a few more years, all that awaited me was happiness—or eternal life, or whatever.
But… it isn't going well.
No matter how brightly I act and how cheerfully I smile after returning to the orphanage, a wistfulness never leaves some corner of the eyes of those looking at me.
I can fool people who don't know me well, or who aren't particularly close to me, quite easily, but the very people I want to tell that I'm all right are always watching my expression.
So whenever I return to the Carnelian mansion, I always fall into thought.
I wonder whether my acting was clumsy, or think, I should have said it this way there. Ah, I wish I could go back to the first day. Things like that.
When I get lost in those thoughts, things I don't really want to think about come to mind as well, and no matter how hard I try to get rid of them, they refuse to disappear.
They're like an apple dunked in water: even if I press it beneath the surface with my hand, press and press, it floats back up again.
There is nothing I can do about such things by force. It's best simply to look at something else and pretend I didn't see them.
So, well, Mr. Gritz, I enjoyed chasing you.
Because I could do foolish things to my heart's content.
Because I could forget the troublesome things I didn't want to think about.
But now, I suppose even that is about to end.
Is it because I have nothing more to say? Haha, well, there is a little of that, but the more fundamental problem is—
the period of training in the dignity and etiquette a priestess must learn so as not to offend the Guardian Deity by behaving improperly before Them.
There isn't much of it left.
Once the period ends, I suppose I'll have to fulfill my duties as a priestess.
…Hmm! This is nice.
I was actually planning to leave without telling anyone, but now that I've confessed, I feel surprisingly refreshed.
Maybe I was able to open up because I was talking to someone strange, rude, and beyond the measure of common sense, like you, Mr. Gritz.
Well then, thank you for listening to my story.
Huh? What did you say?
A stupid, stuffy, hopelessly insensitive bitch? Wow, that's harsh!
I wasn't expecting some grand consolation, but still, hurling abuse is a little—hmm? What does that mean?
You say I'll understand if I try?
No, that's not exactly easy, you know.
……You mean it?
***
“Yeah, you stupid, hopeless bitch.”