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The coachman said, opening the window. Iris nodded, and the coachman closed the window. Trickling raindrops pounded on the roof. She turned her gaze out the window. Arjen rode off into the distance, a pensive look on his face as he traveled. His black raincoat was already soaked through.

“Our relief efforts in Bactins were not for nothing.”

A brown-haired nun sitting across from Iris spoke up. She was a nursing nun who had accompanied the priests as an entourage.

“Many people were saved by you, especially the very sick, and the magistrate was very pleased that you could save many of them. Some people’s condition had deteriorated so much that they would have been sitting still, waiting to die, with no room to heal. But you were able to do it.”

The nun spoke softly. Iris looked at the nun, feeling her stomach turn. She had been working harder than the priests, moving around the field and treating patients.

“…Why would you tell me that?”

The nun flicked her rosary absentmindedly.

“Because you didn’t look well on the way here.”

As befits a nun’s response, Iris’ voice was dry.

She had met many patients in the Holy Land. She offered her healing magic to those who came to her, and they thanked her. Their gratitude fulfilled her and gave her a sense of mission.

Georg, Arjen, and Elroy. They tolerated pain very well; no matter how badly they were wounded, they rarely showed signs of distress. It made me think my magic was effective.

But in the city, in the ruins and squalor of Bactins, the patients never seemed genuinely happy to be healed. They worried about the other patients or left with empty eyes and voices to thank her. She had never experienced anything like it before. Outside the confines of the Holy Land and the Hero’s Party, she realized she was too young, too innocent.

“I have also heard that you were unwilling to leave Bactins until the end.”

The nun said it as if she were proud of her, but Iris could not take it as a compliment. Self-doubt and guilt kept rearing its ugly head.

Arjen’s choice was for the best then. Fighting a battle where the odds were stacked against us was not good for him, the soldiers, or the people of Bactins.

‘Was it really for the best? Was it really worth the sacrifice? Was the possibility to save the world from destruction a justifiable reason?’

“I didn’t expect you to take the initiative in repairing the damage after you were expelled from the Hero’s Party. I guess you weren’t chosen as the Saintess for nothing.”

“It’s nothing…”

Iris said reflexively. The praise cut through her heart like a knife.

“…Saintess?”

The nun scratched her head in disbelief, looking at Iris, who had suddenly denied the compliment and was shaking her head with a pale face. Iris rubbed her shoulders and then sighed softly. ‘Someone, please, tell me if we made the right choice. If we were right to go against the Hero’s choice.’

“I was….”

Iris couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. She looked outside, hoping she could find it. She saw Arjen again. He was, of course, kind to her. He looked out for his companions, and if there was a monster attack, he’d be there to clean it up. He was the same Arjen who slayed the Kraken. If I confided my worries to him, would he nod in understanding or scold me?

“I’m sorry.”

Iris said, and she took a deep breath in and out. She hadn’t been able to compose herself. In fact, even she could tell she was going insane over the past few months.

“If you’re worried, don’t try to keep it to yourself. Just tell me.”

The nun said gently. Iris nodded. Perhaps, she would never confess her troubles. Even she couldn’t explain it all.

The rain was thinning. The sounds of the forest, drowned out by the rain, were slowly coming to life. The air had cooled. The northern part of the country had been experiencing cooler weather since mid-August, and the constant rains made it even colder. After three days, the rain stopped, and the sun shone.

“It’s only a short walk through this forest to Evernode. Is there anything wrong back there….”

The coachman asked, looking at Iris, who quickly shook her head. She could hear the raindrops on the grass and the stream rushing by. The vast northern fields opened up as they passed the last tree in the forest.

“That citadel you see over the hill is Evernode.”

The coachman announced to Iris. She nodded and peeked out of the carriage. She hadn’t yet noticed the oddity in the coachman’s words.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it? They say it’s the largest castle in the kingdom for a single citadel.”

The coachman said as we climbed the hill toward Evernode as if describing a tourist attraction. The closer they got, the better she could see the city.

The citadel was intact.

Of course, it is a cause for celebration. However, remembering the devastation of Bactins, Iris let out a choked breath, gripping the carriage’s window frame. She couldn’t believe the difference between the two cities that were attacked by Disasters.

“If you want to kill everyone in Bactins, go for it.

“So let’s say you bring the Kraken on land, tie its body to the shore, and defeat the Disaster. But what about the rest of us? Will you take responsibility for all the lives and damage of bringing it on land?”

Just like the Hero said, there was no one to take care of the dead. There was no one to take care of the wounded. It was only until she left the party and was commanded by the Hero to help Bactins. Strength drained from Iris’ body. She turned to look outside, where Arjen had stopped moving, staring at the Evernode citadel.

“…This.”

Arjen was agitated. Iris could see it in his eyes, and she felt her faith crumble.

“Ah, there they are. Looks like they are giving us a warm reception.”

The gates opened, and knights in armor emblazoned with Evernode’s sigils approached the group. Iris stepped out of the carriage to greet them.

“It is a pleasure, Saintess. I am Rhys Swanson, Commander of the Knights of the Evernode. I hear you’ve traveled all the way here from Bactins.”

“…My name is Iris Plume, the Saintess.”

Unlike the magistrate of Bactins, his face was devoid of sorrow. Iris couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth to ask what had happened, for the moment she saw him, she felt as if something inside her was about to break.

“Did the Hero defeat the Fourth Disaster?”

Arjen was the first to speak. Rhys lifted his head, locked eyes with him, and asked, his voice slightly stiff.

“Yes. We defeated the Fourth Disaster thanks to the help of the Hero’s Party. You are….”

“I am Arjen Elmion, an escort of the Saintess.”

There was a hint of impatience in his voice. Rhys looked at him and narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Are you the Mercenary who used to be in his party?

Arjen frowned, unsure of the question’s intent, then nodded hesitantly.

“…Yes. Well, I suppose you had your own reasons.”

Rhys shrugged nonchalantly, then climbed back onto his horse to lead the way.

“Tell me the truth.”

Arjen’s voice stopped Rhys in his tracks as he turned to go. He turned his head to look at Arjen. He looked confused and somewhat angry.

“Was it truly the Hero who defeated it?”

“Yes. The Hero fought the Fourth Disaster, the Giant, alone in a frozen hell and cut it down.”

Rhys spoke loudly, making sure everyone could hear him. Iris closed her eyes at his reverence for the Hero. The more Arjen tried to ask questions, the more answers came out of Rhys’s mouth. Slowly, the crack in Iris’ head grew.

Rhys stopped talking altogether and turned to face Arjen.

“Look, I don’t know what you have against our Hero, and I don’t know what you think of him,”

Very subtle hostility. He gripped the reins and warned, his voice turning stern.

“But here, in Evernode, you’d better watch your mouths.”

Rhys shrugged.

“Unless you want to get stoned to death.”

His words stunned the group. Even the members of the entourage, who knew that the Hero had a poor reputation, looked at Rhys in surprise as he strode ahead.

“What really happened?”

“That blunt and useless Hero….”

They murmured, but none of their words reached Iris’ ears. As if mesmerized, the group followed Rhys into the Evernode. He looked back and smiled thinly.

“Welcome to Evernode, Saintess.”

Iris’ eyes widened. Walking down the street, she held on to the nun beside her to keep from falling.

There was no apparent damage.

There were no screams, moans, or wails.

People were moving about the alleyways with smiles on their faces. Children shouted, vendors hawked, and carriages rolled by. Evernode was untouched.

Her head was dizzy, and she felt like throwing up. The smell of festering wounds and nauseating medicines she had smelled in Bactins rose to the surface.

The air of Evernode smelled of grass and wood.

“The citadel is intact, thanks to the Archduke and the Hero. Because of them, the inhabitants could return home safely, who risked their lives to prevent the Giant from approaching the citadel.”

“We can’t face that creature from the open sea. We must bring it in the narrow straits to attack it from the land.”

“That’s impossible…”

Arjen’s voice trembled slightly.

“It’s too reckless….”

“And the result of his recklessness is, as you can see, this.”

Rhys said, interrupting Arjen’s musings.

“I’m told the damage on Bactins is quite severe.”

Rhys turned his head and studied the Evernode landscape for a moment.

“…I’m sure that the Hero has been carrying the failure to defend that place in his heart all along.”

“When you left the party to follow that mercenary of your own accord, the Hero didn’t ask for you to be found. Instead, he wanted you to aid in the post-war recovery and tend to the wounded.”

For some reason, Bishop Andre’s words came back to me now.

“Perhaps that’s why he fought with such desperation.”

Duty. Mission. Justice.

Three ideals. The words that Iris believed in were dismantled into meaningless letters. What the hell was duty, what was mission, what was justice? The broken, suffering form of Bactins? The ‘sure’ and ‘safe’ way to capture the Disaster? What if…

“The Archduke is waiting.”

Before she knew it, Iris was in front of the Stroff family mansion. Her eyes were unfocused, and her body numb. She walked up the stairs and reached the Archduke’s office.

Rhys knocked on the door and opened it. In the center of the room sat the Archduke of the North, Quenor Stroff. Arjen looked wary at the imposing figure, and Iris took a short breath. Rhys, who had ushered them in, turned to the Archduke and said something softly.

“How fitting that you should arrive two days after his group departs.”

Archduke Quenor stared at the group of saints in the doorway, then rose to his feet.

“Welcome to Evernode, Saintess.”

The Archduke stood before them, crossed his arms, and spoke.

“So, what has brought you here?”

“We have come to assist in the… post-war recovery.”

‘Was there really anything we could help with in the recovery?’ Iris’ voice trailed off like a mouse crawling into a hole, and Archduke Quenor sighed as he looked at her.

“The walls will be repaired within this month. The destroyed houses have been rebuilt, and no inhabitants are injured enough to require your care, Saintess. Even the most critical patients have been stabilized.”

Archduke Quenor’s voice was calm. Unlike in Bactins, they didn’t seem welcome here. He tapped his fingers on his crossed arms, then spoke.

“No, Elroy needed your help more than anyone.”

Iris’ pupils widened once again.

“When we returned to the citadel after the battle, Elroy was half a corpse, with wounds so deep that if it weren’t for his strong spirit, he would not have survived.”

The Archduke’s blue eyes pierced her.

“If Elroy were still in the castle, I would have asked you to heal him immediately, but that is beside the point.”

With that, he unclasped his arms.

“Nevertheless, there is a reason you were separated from Elroy.”

Archduke Quenor held out his hand.

“That is all for now. It will be brief, but I ask you to do your best, Saintess.”

Isis reached out a trembling hand and clasped Archduke Quenor’s. Already, she realized that something inside her was beginning to break.