Taming the Evil Saintess

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“Are you there?”

That early morning, I knocked on the Archbishop’s door.

Before long, the weary Archbishop Belwin opened the door. His tired eyes widened slightly when he saw my face.

“Lord Elliot? What brings you here at this hour?”

“I apologize for coming so late.”

“No need to apologize. As one ages, nighttime sleep becomes shorter, after all.”

With that, Belwin jested and stepped aside. As I entered, he offered me a chair and some tea.

I graciously accepted, and as Belwin sat down across from me, he said,

“So, Lord Elliot, what brings you to bother this old man again?”

“It’s about Ophel… no, the Saint Lady.”

“What has that girl done this time?”

“Well, you see…”

Belwin’s expression noticeably darkened.

After all, he had witnessed Ophelia’s antics in the Cathedral longer than anyone else, so it was no wonder he was fed up. The fact that he looked at least ten years older than his actual age was likely all Ophelia’s doing.

I pulled out the petition from my pocket and placed it on the table.

As Belwin slowly picked it up and read, his eyes widened.

“Lord Elliot, this is…”

“It appears to be a petition written by the Saint Lady herself. It seems she’s preparing to send it directly to the Holy See.”

“…”

Belwin was at a loss for words.

A petition bearing the Saint’s seal to be sent to the Pope is akin to a heartfelt letter to a commander, but the gravity is on a whole different level. If I had to draw an analogy, it would be like sending a complaint to the Chief of Staff.

If this were to become public, it would be beyond the Archbishop’s control. The Holy See’s Cathedral Knights would come crashing into the diocese for a thorough investigation.

Even if I insisted on my innocence, I wouldn’t be able to continue my duties as a Knight.

And Ophelia would undoubtedly suffer as well.

Nonetheless, the fact that she wrote such a letter indicates that…

“The Saint Lady must be quite furious.”

“Seems so…”

Belwin sighed deeply.

With a look of melancholy, he continued.

“Ophelia, that girl… she has grown up in a rather suffocating environment since her childhood. While she may have had physical comforts… she has always been caught in various political… whirlwinds, so to speak… in the eye of the storm. It’s not surprising she has a closed-off personality.”

I had heard that Ophelia grew up in the Cathedral’s educational institution.

With all her needs provided and personal attendants to wait on her, how was that in any way bad?

In fact, by the world’s standards, it could be considered a paradise.

It seemed laughable to me, someone who had narrowly avoided death countless times during my miserable mercenary life.

Maybe that thought showed on my face because Belwin managed a wry smile.

“That wasn’t something I should have said in front of you. This is all the fault of this old man. It’s my failure not to raise her properly. I should apologize for that…”

“There’s no need for that.”

I shook my head.

Belwin didn’t need to apologize. He wasn’t her biological parent, nor did he have any reason to cover up Ophelia’s mistakes.

“The atonement must come from the Saint Lady herself. In fact, she just did.”

“Just… did?”

“She trained with me recently.”

“Training… confirmation of this?”

“Quite rigorous.”

“Hooh.”

I had given Ophelia a sufficient revelation just a while ago.

I had her practice swordsmanship until midnight without even serving her dinner. By the end of that training, Ophelia was left in a pitiful state, like a spinning top knocked over in the wilderness. I stopped the training only because I feared she wouldn’t wake up the next day if it continued any longer.

“Die! Just die! You bastard!”

Of course, Ophelia didn’t spare me her curses until the very end.

But I never thought that simply overworking her body would make her give in. I planned to isolate Ophelia a little more thoroughly.

I didn’t want to resort to such methods myself.

But what could I do when Ophelia turned out to be more relentless than I anticipated?

“I’d like to propose a new idea regarding the Saint Lady’s training.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Uh, it’s a story from my time in the… well, Mercenary Group.”

With that introduction, I tapped my finger on the table.

“Do you know what ‘equestrian exemption’ means?”

Upon hearing that, Belwin’s eyebrows twitched.

The next day, Ophelia awoke to a body aching with pain.

After pushing her body to its limit, even moving a single finger felt torturous.

All of it was due to yesterday’s training. Even though I had used recovery magic to heal her body, it couldn’t completely alleviate the fatigue lingering in her mind and muscles. Recovery magic is just that—restoration, not regeneration.

“This is the worst…”

She muttered.

Little did she know that she would get caught by Elliot over a letter meant for the Holy See.

That devil of a man.

To not only withhold food but also to drill her late into the night.

Grrr.

“…”

Thinking that made her stomach rumble.

Now that she recalled, she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. Looking at the clock, she found that the sun was already high in the sky. Gathering all her strength, Ophelia gripped her trembling legs and stepped out of her chamber.

Just then, she spoke to a passing attendant.

“Hey. I’m hungry; prepare a meal.”

However, the attendant merely scurried past Ophelia without acknowledging her.

Her expression soured. This was the first time this had ever happened—a servant had disobeyed Ophelia’s command.

There had been instances before when they hadn’t heard her, but this felt intentional.

No matter how much Elliot had humiliated her, Ophelia was not the sort to tolerate being insulted by servants. So she shouted loudly.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

But no one in the corridor reacted.

Not that they weren’t reacting, but rather their expressions were all filled with tension.

They were all apprehensive, wondering what sort of incident might befall them while trying to ignore Ophelia’s presence entirely.

In other words, they were deliberately ignoring her.

What on earth was going on?

“…What’s the situation here?”

With a dazed voice, Ophelia muttered as she descended the stairs into the backyard.

All the way down, she was so shaky that she had to sit on a nearby bench to catch her breath.

And then it dawned on her.

No one was paying her any attention. Normally, at least one or two people would come to assist her.

In her musings, someone approached the bench.

“Good lunch.”

“…Elliot.”

“Yes. I am Elliot, the Saint Lady’s Knight.”

With that declaration, Elliot placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head.

“Why that expression?”

“Did you do this?”

Ophelia glared at him.

“The attendants won’t listen to me. Did you have a hand in this?”

Her voice had grown icy.

Elliot seemed to ponder for a moment before merely shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure, but perhaps the attendants are just being considerate of the Saint Lady.”

“Consideration? What consideration?”

“You did say you were going to practice silence, didn’t you? They might be respecting your grand decision.”

“….”

While Ophelia wore a dumbfounded expression, Elliot grabbed her arm and pulled. Her joints screamed in protest, and a sharp pain coursed through her body. Yet Elliot did not loosen his grip.

“Why are you doing this!”

“Why would I not? Training.”

“Huh?”

“I did tell you we’d be training again today, didn’t I? Let’s go. The sun is already at its peak.”

“I’m not moving a muscle!”

“You will. They say that exercising when suffering from muscle pain is beneficial.”

At that, despair washed over Ophelia’s face.

It had been two days since that confrontation.

As the sun dipped low in the west, casting deep shadows in the backyard, Ophelia sat on the bench where she usually rested.

“Ugh.”

As she gasped for breath, nausea rose in her throat.

After the third day of training, she had returned to her quarters but had no strength left to climb the stairs, so she paused to catch her breath.

She was utterly exhausted.

And Elliot declared that he would also train the next day, just like today.

“I might just die.”

She muttered.

But more than that, what tormented Ophelia was the attitude of the attendants.

Even after sitting on the bench for over twenty minutes, covered in bruises, no one passing by paid her any mind.

Attendants who had always catered to her requests since she was little now coldly ignored her, as if she were a stranger.

No, they didn’t even respond.

“…Why?”

Having lived her life revered as a Saint for half her life, for proud Ophelia, who did not enjoy loneliness, this situation was excruciating.

When she had tried speaking to the knights in the training grounds earlier, they too had stealthily left the area.

The Holy Garment she was wearing hadn’t been washed for days and had started to stink, yet none of the attendants had offered to do so.

No one came to do her makeup, and not knowing how to do it herself, Ophelia’s appearance had become downright filthy.

With no one to prepare her meals, she trudged to the pantry and chewed on hard rye bread. After two days of nothing but that, her mouth was so sour that it felt like she might throw up.

There was no one to run a bath for her either, forcing her to gather wood for a fire herself.

In the process, her inexperience led to burns, yet not a single shadow of a person had rushed to her aid.

“…”

And this was merely two days in.

The emptiness she felt was far more unbearable than any physical pain.

No one cared, no one paid attention.

She felt like she might puke again.

Feeling like she was about to wither away, Ophelia licked her chapped lips.

Just then, she called out to a passing maid.

“Hey, come here.”

“…”

When she called out to a maid passing by, she merely flinched before quickly walking out of the garden.

Eventually, Ophelia could no longer hold it in and exploded.

“Hey! Want to die?! Get over here!”

After Ophelia’s furious shout, the maid trembled and slowly turned back.

Looking at Ophelia with a flustered expression, the maid bowed her head deeply before murmuring.

“I-I’m sorry… It’s an order from the Archbishop…”

“…What?”

“I’m sorry!”

With that, the maid rushed away, clearly hoping to avoid being seen.

Ophelia was left in shock, pinching her cheek in disbelief. It hurt. But she didn’t need to do that; Ophelia’s body was already pleading for relief after the backlash from the training.

Yet she needed reassurance because what the maid had said felt so unreal.

The Archbishop instructed them to ignore Ophelia.

It was shocking.

“Belwin that old fool? Me?”

I was already infuriated that Elliot had been made her instructor, but why on earth would he go this far?

Hadn’t he said nothing before?

Hadn’t he overlooked everything she had done?

Trying to suppress her anger, Ophelia stood up abruptly.

She intended to go confront Belwin.

She was even prepared to threaten him with a knife, vowing to end her own life if need be.
However,

“No matter the case, you shouldn’t take your anger out on a passing maid.”

Elliot’s voice rang out from behind her.

As she turned around, she saw Elliot wearing a smug expression.

In just a week, Elliot had gone from being a mere toy for Ophelia to someone she wished to avoid at all costs.

“None of your business.”

“Actually, it is. As the Saint Lady’s instructor, it is my duty to teach you basic manners.”

“…Shut up.”

With a voice dripping with disdain, Ophelia spat those words, and Elliot merely shrugged.

“If this continues, no one will respect you at all.”

“Respect isn’t what I need. As long as they follow my orders, that is all.”

That was how things were in the Cathedral.

As long as the divine mark of the gods was present, the faithful had no choice but to worship the Saint.

“Well, while you’re not entirely wrong… that can only happen when the Saint fulfills her duties. From my perspective, I don’t think you’re doing that right now.”

“…I told you to shut up.”

“Honestly, if I were in your shoes, I’d want to avoid someone as deceptive as you.”

He was clearly mocking her.

And at the same time, Ophelia’s head cooled down. Deceptive. Elliot was referring to the petition she had been caught with the other day.

Only then did it dawn on her.

The knights and attendants were all ignoring her. There was no way the Archbishop would do such a thing. It had to be the foul play of that detestable knight. Elliot must have reported her to Belwin. It was a trap!

“You…”

It was him.

It was he who had orchestrated all this.

Ophelia felt a sensation as if her head was about to burst.

“…It’s all your fault.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s all because of you… you….”

As she tried to yell at him, perhaps out of fear of a slap or simply due to her extreme fatigue, her vision suddenly blurred.

“It’s because of you…”

The world wasn’t blurring.

It was just that tears had filled Ophelia’s eyes.

Elliot’s eyes widened.

He had never expected Ophelia to shed tears.

And Ophelia herself was just as surprised.

Shame flushed her face. She felt something akin to defeat. Her pride took a hit, and at the same time, her throat tightened and wouldn’t allow her to speak.

Even as tears fell down her cheeks, she could only utter a single phrase.

“…This is too much.”

Finally, she fled from Elliot as if in a panic.