Chapter 2
Ninia remained confined in the prayer tower for a month and ten days. From long ago, the prayer tower was also used to imprison noble criminals. Beneath the single door leading to the hallway was another smaller door. It opened and closed twice a day, delivering meals, water, and other necessities.
She marked the passing days by etching lines into the wall.
One day, the door to Ninia’s confinement opened. Two priests covered her face with leather, blinding her, and led her away.
Guided by the priests, Ninia descended the stairs. She stumbled several times, but didn’t fall, held between the two strong men. Eventually, a faint scent from the outside world wafted through the suffocating smell of the leather. A door must have opened.
‘Outside.’
Unable to see, her other senses sharpened. The chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the scurrying of small animals—all were vivid. They placed her in a waiting carriage.
Neigh!
The interior shook with the sound of hooves. As the carriage started moving, the leather blindfold was finally removed. Two priests sat beside her, one opposite. The windows were covered with red cloth, preventing her from seeing outside.
After more than a month, she was finally outside. Yet, Ninia felt more disappointed by her inability to see anything than by the impending judgment awaiting her.
Silence fell within the moving carriage. The impassive faces of the priests sent shivers down her spine.
Numerous priests had also been present when she was offered as a sacrifice. Feeling aversion towards them was only human. Despite knowing this, fear crept into her heart, and Ninia wrapped her arms around herself.
‘…My shoulder covering. I left it behind.’
Rubbing her shoulders, Ninia remembered what she had forgotten. Perhaps there was another reason for the chill she felt. The absence of the covering that had always adorned her shoulders during her time as a Saintess left her feeling vulnerable.
She didn’t miss the noble symbol itself. Ninia was thinking of something else.
‘The embroidery. It turned out so beautifully.’
Ninia had embroidered all of the Canerian shoulder coverings. She had been taught embroidery from a young age. Having learned it through the pain of her hands being struck, it was fair to call her work masterpieces.
It was said that her embroidery carried the Saintess’s blessing. Since she actually performed blessings, Ninia’s needlework did indeed serve as protection and well-being.
Items adorned with the Saintess’s embroidery were sold at high prices at large charity auctions or presented as gifts to noble followers of the Canerian faith.
“Excuse me…”
Ninia spoke hesitantly as the carriage journeyed onward. The previously impassive priest’s brow furrowed. Ninia hesitated, but she couldn’t take back her words.
“If the journey is long… could I perhaps have something to embroider?”
The priest looked at her with incredulity. Ninia felt a surge of embarrassment but feigned composure.
The Saintess represented the Goddess’s lily. As the Goddess’s flower, Ninia had been treated with reverence by everyone under the High Priest. There was a vast gulf between her and the ordinary priests who now guarded her, a gulf they wouldn’t dare to cross even with their gaze.
However, now reduced to a sinner, Ninia was acutely aware of her current situation. Staying quiet was her best option, but she desperately needed something to focus on, enough to make her plead like this.
‘Being confined alone drives a person mad.’
Ninia had been locked in the prayer room at the top of the spire for over a month. High atop the towering spire, not even a small bird was visible. It was perfect isolation, a punishment for surviving.
Life as a Saintess had been incredibly busy, requiring little sleep. Traveling to various countries was a given, and Ninia was always present at numerous banquets and commemorative events. This was the first time in her life she had been so alone.
“Would it be difficult?”
Ninia made one last plea, but the priests remained silent. Her small hands, clenched into fists on her lap, tightened further.
‘Even this is not allowed.’
She understood her situation once again. The carriage continued for a while longer before coming to a brief stop. One of the priests exited and returned some time later, handing Ninia a bundle.
“…This is…”
Ninia carefully opened the bundle. Inside were various scraps of cloth, balls of thread, and needles.
‘There must be a village nearby.’
The cloths were discarded scraps, their quality irrelevant. Nevertheless, Ninia was overjoyed.
“Thank you.”
Expressing her gratitude, she held the bundle preciously in her arms. Glancing at the priest, she finally picked up a needle. The priests didn’t stop her. No one would fear a frail woman holding a mere needle.
Ninia threaded the needle with relief. The simple act of doing something felt incredibly comforting.
Even though she had only stopped for about a month, the sensation of the needle piercing the cloth felt unfamiliar. But her body, not her mind, remembered how to embroider. The act of embroidery made her feel alive.
“Ninia, your fate will be decided soon.”
The priest, who had remained silent throughout the journey, spoke just as Ninia finished embroidering a leaf half the size of her pinky nail. Ninia blinked, the needle still poised above the cloth.
If one didn’t know who she was, she would have looked like an ordinary young noblewoman embroidering. The priest, observing Ninia acting as if it wasn’t her own fate at stake, asked,
“Why didn’t you die?”
It wasn’t a threat or an accusation, but a question borne of pure curiosity. The question, devoid of any hostility, pierced Ninia’s heart like a dagger. She was speechless. The priest spoke as if Ninia had control over life and death.
Ninia remained silent, continuing to embroider. Her stitches became faster and tighter.
She felt incredibly fortunate to have something in her hands. Ninia bit her lip, suppressing the surge of emotions rising within her.
‘I wonder that myself.’
Although Ninia couldn’t answer the priest’s question, it was one she also pondered. Why was she still alive? Wouldn’t it have been better to have died back then?
‘Oh Goddess.’
Ninia called upon the Goddess in her heart. Of course, this wasn’t the proper way to pray. There were rituals and rules for prayer. She had been taught that only prayers offered in the temple, accompanied by donations, were the proper way for humans to show reverence to God.
Ninia had politely nodded at her instructor’s words, but she had harbored different thoughts.
‘A terrible war.’
During Ninia’s time as Saintess, there had been countless conflicts within the empire and wars, both large and small, between nations. The northern war had finally ended, but the villages ravaged by the armies were beyond recovery.
Ninia and the other priests had visited some of the most devastated villages. The stench of burnt ashes and blood stung their noses. The cries of children who had lost their parents echoed throughout the villages like mournful dirges.
‘Thank goodness.’
But hearing those cries, Ninia had felt a sense of relief. More terrifying than the cries of children was the deathly silence. In villages where everyone had perished, not even the wind could be heard.
Ninia had comforted the crying children and stayed by their sides until their malnourished bodies recovered. Meanwhile, the paladin had found and brought back the children’s father, who had been taken as a slave. Finally, the children were able to leave their sickbeds.
‘The Goddess is in our hearts. So, we just have to close our eyes tight and pray!’
A child had said this while nestled in Ninia’s arms. Ninia had thought that this small child was better than her.
‘Let me fulfill my purpose.’
Ninia continued her prayer as she embroidered. A Saintess’s worth ended with her sacrificial death. Ninia hadn’t perfectly fulfilled God’s will.
But Ninia was also human. Even though she should have been willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good, a conflicting measure resided within her heart.
‘Perhaps…’
Ninia placed her hand over her pounding heart. What was contained within the unopened box that hadn’t yet been taken from her? A belated death?
Or… perhaps it was hope for the life that had been stolen from her.
