Chapter 13: The Martyrdom of the Priest(5)

As Abigail softly murmured her name, Alicia stood up and kneeled by Abigail’s feet.

“I am Alicia Sossilion, daughter of the Duke of Sossilion. I am honored to meet the Saint, the representative of the divine.”

“There’s no need for this. Please, get up.”

Abigail lightly patted Alicia’s shoulder with a look of bewilderment, and Alicia’s head slowly lifted.

Her face, devoid of any makeup, was revealed, which was incongruous with her splendid gown. Her eyes were dark beneath, and her cheeks were deeply hollowed, as if she had been ill for days.

“Alicia, are you unwell?”

Her golden hair, which mirrored Abigail’s own, was damp and clinging to her face.

“It looks like you got caught in the rain. Where did you leave your carriage to come here in the rain…”

Abigail reached out and gently stroked Alicia’s trembling cheek. As she did, a steady stream of water ran down through her hair. No, this isn’t just rain…

“Alicia, why are you sweating so much? I’ll order for the physician immediately!” 

“It’s alright, Saint.”

It would have been nice if she had called me Abigail as usual. Casually glancing down, Abigail noticed that beneath her gown, Alicia was still wearing her nun’s shoes, which were now covered in mud. Her ankles, swollen and bulging, seemed ready to burst.

“Oh my goodness! Please wait a moment. I need to get a compress ready.”

“Saint, I have something to tell you.”

She urgently grabbed Abigail’s wrist. Then, limping, she reached behind the tea table and lifted the water jug she had been hiding.

“Please, listen to what I have to say now.”

* * *

Abigail had gathered all the imperial palace’s experts, including some familiar faces she hadn’t seen in a while.

‘Father…’

Count Miller, whom Abigail hadn’t seen for a month, appeared extremely gaunt. She fought the urge to rush to her father and ask how he was doing. Today, she had to fulfill her responsibilities as the Empire’s Saint, not as the naive daughter of the Miller family.

“So, the water in that jug is the medium spreading Andrea’s fire?”

The experts began to murmur at the casual remark of the crown prince.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“…You brought something so dangerous into the palace? Are you out of your mind?”

The moment Victor’s words fell, the experts who had been silently sitting jumped up from their seats. They pressed themselves against the walls, their faces filled with fear.

“Ah, of course, I’m not addressing these words to the wise Saint. I’m speaking to the lunatic who brought the water jug here.”

The crown prince, sitting with his legs crossed and staring at the jug on the table, spoke with a sneer.

“I distinctly remember that the young priestess from the convent who was martyred was sent from the palace, but now a daughter of a duke’s family brought the jug here?”

Abigail’s brows furrowed slightly. With just one word from the crown prince, it would be revealed that the person who brought the jug was the daughter of the House of Sossilion.

“She only discovered the fallen priest in the forest and brought the jug in place of him. As proof, she also delivered a handkerchief carried by the clergyman.”

As Abigail placed the handkerchief given by Alicia next to the jug, Victor glared at it as if it were a deadly weapon and spoke.

“It’s not that I, an ordinary human, doubt the words of the omnipotent Saint. It’s just that I want to ask why you are insisting on calling Andrea’s fire a plague, something we have always classified as a religious phenomenon.”

“Then, is it necessary to provide further evidence when the Saint herself declares it is not a religious phenomenon?”

“…I see. So, you discovered this with your miraculous divine power, I suppose?”

Victor’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. Abigail flinched under his cold gaze.

Staring into his crimson eyes felt like he was peering into her very soul, as if he were mocking the fact that she was nothing more than a false Saint with no real divine power.

“…Have I made a mistake in my words? Why is there no response?”

Abigail felt a pang of fear. However, Alicia had thrown herself into the source of the plague, braving the dangers to help those suffering from it.

It was the least she could do to raise her voice on behalf of the person who had risked her life to transport the jug.

“I created a map based on the locations where Andrea’s fire has occurred over the past 100 years. All of them were in the outskirts of the empire, and records show that five out of the eight cases used underground water.”

Since Andrea’s fire was classified as a religious phenomenon, Abigail had to spend the night poring over theological books and epidemiological records to piece together this information.

“If what the Saint says is true, then using underground water means we would have no excuse even if the empire were to be destroyed by a plague.”

Alicia’s body had been battered from the long journey. Her ankle was so swollen it was astonishing she could still walk. For her sacrifice, Abigail could only hope her efforts would not go unnoticed.

Victor’s dismissive comments made Abigail’s fingers tremble with frustration.

“Crown Prince Victor, why do you keep derailing the conversation before I’ve even finished my explanation?”

Victor’s face twisted in displeasure at her sharp retort, but it was fleeting. He chuckled lightly, as if finding her outburst amusing. Abigail straightened her posture and raised her voice.

“I am merely a helper to the Emperor according to the divine will, not your assistant.”

“Does that mean you do not recognize me as the future Emperor?”

“Must I involve myself in the fierce power struggles of the imperial court? What I mean is, no matter how much you are the Crown Prince, do not belittle me or my efforts until you become Emperor.”

Her voice quivered slightly, betraying her tension, but despite the unsatisfied expressions of Victor and the scholars, she felt a sense of relief in her chest.

“…I see. Let’s continue with your explanation then.”

Victor arched an eyebrow and fixed his gaze on Abigail. In the suffocating tension, she took a deep breath and resumed.

“According to records from twenty years ago, when Andrea’s fire spread in the eastern outskirts of the Empire, they contained the infected wells and switched to using distant wastewater. This measure reduced the spread of the plague and alleviated the severity of the illness.”

Victor’s sarcastic applause echoed through the room, undermining the gravity of the situation. Abigail’s gaze hardened as she faced the Crown Prince’s dismissive demeanor.

“Crown Prince Victor, I am not here to entertain you with dramatics. My priority is to address the immediate threat and prevent further disaster,” Abigail said, her voice steady despite the underlying tension.

Victor’s smirk remained as he leaned back in his chair.

“Indeed. And you’ve suggested that investigating the soil and waste disposal sites might be a solution. Yet, the challenge remains in implementing such measures effectively.”

Abigail nodded, her expression resolute.

“Yes. We need to address the contamination in the soil and ensure proper waste management to prevent future outbreaks. The first step is to act swiftly and thoroughly to manage the areas identified.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone. The scholars, initially skeptical, now exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of concern and reluctant acknowledgment.

“Very well,”

Victor said after a pause, his tone now more measured.

“We shall proceed with your recommendations and investigate the connections you’ve outlined. But remember, you are not the only one responsible for this. The burden of resolution falls on us all.”

Abigail bowed her head slightly.

“Thank you, Crown Prince. I will ensure to provide all necessary assistance to resolve this issue.”

As she turned to leave, she caught a glimpse of Alicia’s weary face in her mind, a reminder of the real stakes behind the technical discussions. She had to act quickly to prevent further harm and honor the sacrifices made.

Without speaking, Abigail raised her eyelids. Soon, her brilliant blue eyes were revealed beneath her thick eyelashes.

“Did you forget? My father, Count Miller, is the palace’s chief epidemiologist. Even if I hadn’t become a Saint, I would have uncovered the truth as the chief epidemiologist of the palace, inheriting my family’s work.”

As Abigail confidently spoke, a faint smile appeared on Count Miller’s lips, who was sitting at a distance.

“I want to honor the priest who delivered the water. If he has passed on to be with the gods, I will *rect a memorial. If he is still alive, I will appoint him to a bishopric.”

The image of Alicia running out to find the priest lying alone in the forest flashed before her eyes.

* * *

His face, lying still without any movement, looked extremely pitiful. She was afraid that if she looked away for even a moment, his heart might stop.

She finally breathed a sigh of relief only after confirming that his chest was rising and falling steadily while sitting on a chair.

“…Father Edwin.”

Since she had safely handed over the water to Abigail, now it was her turn. Once Father Edwin woke up, they would be able to return to their peaceful routine.

“I wonder if he will praise me for doing well once he opens his eyes.”

Since a mere nun could not request an audience with the Saint, she limped toward the House of the Sossilion Dukes. She wrapped the tattered remnants of her body in a luxurious dress as she made her way to the palace.

Even while conversing with Abigail, Edwin’s face kept appearing before her eyes.

Ideally, she would have sent someone to bring him here as quickly as possible. However, if his condition worsened and he began to vomit dark, bloody fluids while she was away, there was a risk of the infection spreading.

She imagined that someone as principled as Edwin would not choose to harm others.

It took two days for her to retrace her steps alone and find him. For those two long days, Father Edwin remained steadfast, keeping his promise without moving an inch. She admired his resilience during those grueling hours.

“…You’ve had a hard time.”

By the time she found him, he was already unconscious. She brought him to the Sossilion Dukes’ villa and, just as Sister Dorothea had advised, continued to give him clean, uncontaminated water. She also made sure to prepare thin soups for every meal.

“Everything will be fine now. You just need to open your eyes, Father.” 

It had been a night since they moved him to the villa, but he still had not opened his eyes. She was worried that he might never wake up.

As she quietly looked down at his face, she found herself thinking a selfish thought.

‘It would be nice if you could just stay alive like this, even if you never wake up…’

She wished he would remain by her side and continue to be with her, even if it meant only silently lying still, not leaving her side.

She gently brushed his silver hair aside, revealing his cool, smooth forehead.

When his eyes were open, he was unmistakably like a wildcat, but his face, with its eyelids closed, looked extremely gentle.

“…Please wake up and tell me what the letter meant.”

She wanted to share the unfinished conversation and ask him so many things, but sadly, he remained motionless.

“I’ll make some thin soup for you. Please stay lying down for a moment. Don’t be surprised if you open your eyes and find me gone.”

She had sent all the villa’s servants back to the main house, worried that they might contract the disease. As a result, everything from lighting the fire to cooking was her responsibility.

She chopped and mashed the vegetables finely so that they would be easy to swallow without chewing. She transferred the well-cooked soup, which had no solid chunks, into a bowl. Placing it on a tray with lukewarm water, she headed to the bedroom where he was lying.

“…Father, I’m here. You’ve been lying still, haven’t you?”

She smiled faintly as she entered the bedroom.

“Father?”

The bed, which should have been empty with him asleep like a doll, was empty.

Her heart raced, just like when he had disappeared from the run-down inn.

The moment she saw the familiar figure looking out the window, her grip relaxed. The bowl clattered onto the carpet with a dull thud.

“Father Edwin.”

As she called his name, he turned around from where he was standing. His closed eyelids slowly lifted, revealing the golden eyes she had so longed to see.

“…Alicia.”

He called her with a voice that was low and drowsy. Without a moment’s hesitation, she rushed into his embrace.

As she rubbed her cheek against his exposed chest, tears streamed down her face. His white lips gently rested on her eyelids.

Despite the tender comfort, the tears showed no sign of stopping. She lowered her head, not wanting to show him her tear-streaked face.

“Alicia.”

She lifted her head, entranced by the deep, resonant sound in her ear. His breath mingled with her trembling lips.

His dry tongue explored the gap between their lips. Their tender kisses continued as if confirming each other’s presence.

She reached out to embrace his emaciated cheeks, vowing never to let him go, savoring the moment that felt like eternity.