Chapter 7: The Cultural Exchange Delegation (3)
“Durgtah is the only place that treats us as merchants of precious goods, not as a lowly rabble selling our bodies and our smiles. Please let us help in whatever way we can.”
The dancer in bright red stepped to the front and smiled sweetly. The clatter of the multicolored beads and gold ornaments sewn thickly along the hems of their costumes filled the small courtyard. It was a welcome offer, but Hashana could not answer easily.
These dancers are priestesses of Goddess Disorde. Whenever those blessed by the god of turmoil get involved, trouble breaks out, big or small…
The dancer in red nodded as if she understood exactly what Hashana was worrying about and continued.
“If we get involved, Disorde’s power will inevitably come into play. We call it turmoil, but he is really the god of strife and chaos.”
“Disorde is the god who sets in motion the beginning of every great miracle and change.”
Hashana contradicted her without the slightest hesitation. Moved, the dancers’ expressions softened as they all began chattering at once.
“Even when you say the same thing, you say it so beautifully that we can’t sow even a single seed of strife inside Durgtah!”
“We are priestesses of the god of strife and chaos. We can’t even fulfill our sacred duties.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll take all that pent-up duty and unleash it on the delegation. Will three days be enough to keep them here? Or do you want the full week to match their original schedule?”
After a bit more thought, Hashana nodded, having come to a decision.
“Three days should be enough. Please.”
“Leave it to us.”
“Thank you. You’ve taken a great weight off my mind.”
Hashana cupped the dancer’s nape and kissed her on the forehead. The divine blessing that settled on her forehead and both cheeks shimmered in a faint gold before slowly sinking into her skin.
“Then I’ll leave it to you. I was planning to have them rest in the soldiers’ barracks on the first day anyway, to recover from the journey… but since things turned out like this, I’d like you to keep them occupied here for about three days.”
“No problem. We’ll present it as a little entertainment prepared by Durgtah.”
Feeling much lighter, Hashana turned to the outer-wall captain.
“Then let’s open the gate. We’ve kept Durgtah’s very first honored guests waiting this long; we must welcome them as grandly as we can.”
The captain bowed deeply and signaled to the soldiers. The four gatekeepers immediately strained against the gate, muscles and tendons bulging. Watching them in silence, Hashana straightened her own clothes.
I had no idea receiving guests would be this draining. To hell with honored guests and all that. The moment this gate opens, I just want to bolt.
Standing squarely in the center of the slowly opening gate, she seriously weighed her chances of a successful escape. Running away wouldn’t even be that hard, but she had never once in her life stepped outside Durgtah’s walls. Hashana wasn’t even sure whether “Saintess” was the sort of job one could quit and move on from.
If she had just nagged me in moderation, I wouldn’t be thinking like this. Rsanda really doesn’t understand the meaning of moderation.
As she continued her earnest contemplation of her future and how to improve her quality of life, Hashana wrapped her entire body in carefully refined divine power. A brilliant platinum radiance began to spread, enveloping her from head to toe.
This is our first time receiving guests from the Empire, so I have no idea how flashy I should make this. Maybe just a little more dazzling than when I overawe the merchants?
While Hashana’s deliberations went on, the gatekeepers threw the doors wide with all their strength. The holy light that spilled through the widening gap swept over the city walls and rushed down to the surface of the deep moat, and everyone watching let out awed exclamations.
“Whoa…”
The delegation, who had been clustered at the edge of the moat, simmering with irritation in the baking heat, all gaped at once. Pleased with their reaction, Hashana smiled, the very picture of saintly grace.
“We have kept our honored guests waiting. On behalf of the great Rsanda, guardian of Durgtah, I bid you welcome.”
After that overly elaborate greeting, she stepped forward lightly, trailing afterimages of light. As she walked, an arched stone bridge rose beneath her feet from the air above the dark blue water, as if it had always been there.
Once Hashana had moved away, the dancer in red leaned toward the outer-wall captain and whispered in a voice only he could hear.
“You’re in trouble. Look at that prince. Do you honestly think you can compete with a man who looks like that?”
The captain did not reply.
“If I were the saintess, I’d crown him with a laurel wreath before he even set foot in the tournament arena. Forget the games; I’d drag him straight to my bedroom and climb on top of him.”
The captain clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together, pretending not to hear. Her teasing was cruel, but he couldn’t deny it. Hiding herself neatly in the shade of the broad-shouldered soldiers, the dancer relentlessly needled the big man.
“I get why you’re hopelessly in love with Hashana. But how many times have I told you? She’s excessively kind to everyone. That’s just how she is. It doesn’t mean anything more.”
“I know. That’s exactly why Rsanda is always worried about her.”
“Oh, do you think I’m worrying about Rsanda right now? I’m talking about you. As for being her first partner or a candidate for her husband, you can give up on those dreams. They’re dead and buried.”
“Husband candidate… I have never even dared dream of anything so far beyond me.”
“Oh, so you’re planning to settle for being her practice partner for the night of her coming-of-age ceremony? That rehearsal that’s never happened because she’s always too busy and exhausted?”
The captain offered no response.
The captain bit down so hard his pressed lips turned white, and he glared at the dancer. The dancer in red made a show of being frightened, then slipped away toward the archway where she had first appeared.
Clueless about the little skirmish unfolding inside the walls, a heavy silence hung outside the gate.
Confronted with a wonder they had never even imagined, the delegation forgot the silly jokes they had been trading. Iskandel, who had missed his chance to offer a greeting because one magical event had followed another, clicked his tongue inwardly.
If she has come out in Rsanda’s stead… then that woman must be the Saintess of War. I’ve never seen divine power like that, not even from the high priests in the Capital.
On full alert now, Iskandel took in every detail. Hashana, who was simply using her power with the straightforward intention of soothing the delegation’s mood, had no idea what was going through his mind and increased the intensity of the light a little more. It only made Iskandel, already on edge, feel even more twisted up inside.
A welcome that doubles as a warning that ordinary humans can’t even cross this moat. For a so-called Saintess of War, she certainly knows how to make an entrance. She looks like a stiff breeze would blow her away, and yet…
His fist clenched unconsciously, knuckles whitening. Durgtah kept defying his expectations.
He had been certain that at the end of this long, long journey, a grand reception would be waiting. Instead, when they arrived, the gates of Durgtah remained firmly shut. No matter how loudly they shouted that the delegation had arrived, no one came running down. The people in white robes dripping with gold ornaments merely clustered along the top of the wall, watching, while from up there, harsh shouts boomed and echoed.
A dry laugh slipped from his lips.
Isn’t it a bit crude to treat us like unwanted guests and then try to overawe us with illusions…?
He tried to ignore his first instinctive fear of the divine power, just as the crown prince had taught him. He told himself he was sick to death of the pretensions and arrogance of country bumpkins.
To Iskandel, Rsanda was nothing more than a name whose past glory had long since crumbled to dust. These days, Rsanda’s name only ever came up as a point of comparison when praising Karasvati, which made it even harder for him to accept the saintess’s display of power.
Well… for a washed-up goddess, she did manage to produce a fairly impressive saintess.
Having finished preparing to dismiss his opponent the way the crown prince had taught him, he fixed a gentle smile on his lips and met Hashana’s gaze head-on. The stone bridge, smoothly carved from pale sand-colored rock, the golden vine patterns worked all along it, and the saintess gliding toward him like a feather atop it were all excessively extravagant.
Rumor has it that even if she hasn’t vanished entirely, that goddess should have faded away long ago and is now holed up clinging to one poor little domain… Did someone spread false rumors, or is she just overexerting herself to show off?
With his heart pounding for no good reason, Iskandel analyzed her and stepped onto the bridge without hesitation. If this was a show of power and warning wrapped in hospitality and ceremony, he was confident he wouldn’t lose to anyone. Behind him, his bodyguard called out in a panicked voice.
“Y-Your Highness, is it really all right to just walk onto that bridge?”
“Well. I’m trying to have a little faith. Surely the saintess wouldn’t drown the beloved son of His Majesty, the Emperor.”
He walked at a measured pace, neither too fast nor too slow, across the beautiful bridge. Hashana, waiting at the center of the arch, greeted him with a flushed, expectant face.
“You must be Prince Iskandel.”
“It is an honor that you remember such an insignificant name.”
Smiling brightly, Iskandel placed his right hand over his heart, as etiquette in the Capital dictated. As their eyes met and he bowed politely, Hashana laughed softly and held out her hand.
Iskandel extended the hand he had held over his heart and lightly took the slender hand offered to him, brushing his lips so close to her petal-like fingernails they almost touched. Her small hand flinched and tried to pull back on reflex.
What is this? What’s wrong with me? Hashana thought.
Then, Iskandel thought, What is with this woman?
Their eyes met, both filled with the same question. Reading the embarrassment in Hashana’s gaze, Iskandel tightened his grip just a little. A more profound confusion spread from the hand he had caught.
