The Saintess’s Prayer and the Shadow of the Beast
A Premonition Echoing in the Mist
The plaza of Vestas Mining Town was quiet, draped in a thin veil of mist.
Gas lamps flickered with faint light, and scattered petals danced on the cobblestones in the gentle breeze.
In the cool morning air, a woman with her white hair tied high stood silently.
Mare Brightmore Spencer, nineteen, daughter of a baron and known as the "Saintess of Vestas."
Her blue eyes held love for her younger brother and a gentle radiance, while the star-shaped pendant at her chest glimmered in the mist.
She knelt quietly before the statue of the goddess Venus in the plaza’s center, offering her prayers.
Last night, the goddess Venus appeared in her dream, foretelling trials: the "Birth of the Beastman King" and the "Shadow of the Empire."
Mare’s heart wavered between the Holy Knights’ guarded secrets and her resolve to protect her brother.
Her hand trembled for a moment as it clutched the pendant, but she exhaled softly, a calm smile spreading like the mist.
"Radix… no matter the trial, as long as the light in our hearts doesn’t fade, we’ll surely overcome it."
Her voice, clear as a spring fountain, gently caressed the plaza’s silence.
Then, light footsteps echoed.
A slender boy approached—Radix Brightmore Spencer, fifteen, Mare’s younger brother and heir to the baron’s house.
His short, tousled white hair swayed in the morning breeze, and his golden eyes gleamed with sharp resolve and trust in his sister.
At the chest of his simple cloak, a star-shaped pendant matching Mare’s shone brightly.
"Sister, praying so early in the morning? How pious. But trials and all that—aren’t you hiding something?"
Radix’s tone was playful, but his keen gaze didn’t miss the tremble in Mare’s hand.
For him, who harbored ideals to change the world, his sister’s vague words were a seed of concern.
Mare narrowed her eyes and smiled softly.
"Radix, it’s not gentlemanly to pry into a lady’s heart so hastily.
If you’re worried about the Sperbia Empire’s movements, trust the Holy Knights’ network.
I’ll make sure you don’t worry needlessly."
Her words, like the mist, veiled the truth, imbued with deep love for her brother and a desire to reassure him.
Her voice was as warm as sunlight filtering through spring leaves.
The Light of Compassion
At that moment, a small stumble echoed on the cobblestones.
"Ow… I scraped my knee…"
A young girl’s tearful voice murmured as she sat on the ground.
Mare paused her prayer and knelt gently beside the girl.
Her blue eyes, serene as a lake, enveloped the girl’s heart.
"It’s alright. It may hurt a little, but a smile has the power to heal any wound."
Mare took the girl’s hand, gently wiping the wound.
Her touch was as delicate as handling flower petals.
She began to chant softly, and a circle of holy light spread at her feet.
"The Prayer of Healing."
The light converged on the girl’s knee, glowing for a moment.
The wound vanished without a trace, and the girl, wiping her tears, smiled shyly.
Mare removed a small floral hairpiece from her dress and gently placed it in the girl’s hair.
"This is for you. It’ll surely make your smile even more beautiful."
"Really? Thank you, Lady Mare! Everyone says you’re the kindest!"
The girl’s eyes sparkled as she ran off with a radiant smile.
For a moment, the plaza’s mist seemed to clear with her joy.
Radix felt a warm glow in his chest and muttered,
"Sister, you’re always like this. Treating everyone like family. I can’t compete with that."
His voice carried respect, tinged with a brotherly shyness.
Mare turned, gazing at her brother with gentle eyes.
"Kindness is the strength to protect someone, Radix. Your ideals, too, surely stem from a heart that cares for others."
Her words, warm as sunlight piercing the mist, quietly soothed her own anxieties.
But Radix’s golden eyes caught the sorrow hidden behind her smile.
"Sister, what has the Holy Knights’ Order uncovered about the Sperbia Empire? It’s not just rumors, is it?"
His voice was sharp, yet softened by concern for his sister.
Mare lowered her eyes for a moment, then smiled calmly.
"Information is as vague as the mist, Radix. Don’t rush. I’m here with you."
Her words were gentle, yet they carried the clever intelligence typical of Mare, deftly concealing the truth.
The Shadow of the Empire and a Fiery Heart
The air in the plaza shifted.
A girl appeared, her crimson riding habit fluttering, a floral ornament swaying in her black hair.
Freyda St. Clair Pembroke, fifteen, daughter of a knightly house.
Her blue eyes held hope and a faint competitive spark as she approached the two with confidence.
"I heard at the tea party! The Sperbia Empire is putting cursed collars on slaves and hastily forging weapons in town!
What barbaric people!"
Freyda’s voice was bright, but beneath it lingered unease and rivalry toward Mare.
Holding her bow, she declared boldly,
"Radix, I’ll pierce that darkness with my bow!
The Empire, the Beastman King—I’ll take them all down!"
Mare smiled gently, meeting Freyda’s gaze.
"Freyda, your passion is wonderful.
But before you loose your arrow, it’s important to understand the enemy’s heart.
The Empire’s actions surely have deeper reasons."
Her words, gently chastising Freyda’s recklessness, were filled with warmth that acknowledged her effort.
Mare’s thoughtful empathy resonated in her voice.
Radix gripped his pendant, a wry smile on his lips.
"Freyda, if your bow can pierce the Empire, my sword will carve open the world.
But cursed collars and rushed weapons… is the Beastman King in the Empire planning something?
Sister, is there anything in the Holy Knights’ records?"
His words were light, but his sharp intellect analyzed the Empire’s movements.
Freyda toyed with her hairpiece, her cheeks flushing cherry red.
"Hmph, no matter what those barbaric imperials try in Vestas,
I’ll take them down with my bow in glorious style!"
At her haughty tone, Mare smiled, and Radix shrugged.
Mare traced her pendant and nodded quietly.
"The Holy Knights’ ancient texts mention cursed collars.
The Sperbia Empire’s magic to control slaves… it has a resonance similar to the Beastman King’s power.
The recent thickness of the mist and the forest’s unrest might be connected."
Her voice was calm, but her thoughtful analysis shone with the Saintess’s intellect.
Inwardly, she harbored unease about the link between the Sperbia Empire and the Archduke of Endval, yet she smiled to keep it from the others.
The Curtain Rises on the Trial
As the three spoke, a female soldier rushed into the plaza, shattering the calm.
"Lord Radix, Lady Mare! Suspicious figures were spotted at the edge of the mining town—fox and wolf soldiers wearing slave collars!"
Her urgent voice carried the eerie weight of the fact that Endval had no beastman soldiers.
"I’ll report to the Holy Knights’ outpost!"
With that, she dashed off.
Radix placed a hand on his greatsword’s hilt.
"Assassins from Sperbia? They’re making their move."
Mare’s lips tightened, and she nodded slightly.
"Too soon. If they’ve anticipated our defenses, we must be cautious."
Freyda gripped her bow and stepped forward, anger flashing in her eyes.
"It’s definitely them! I’m going too. That fox’s creepy laugh… I won’t forgive it!"
As the three headed toward the forest at the town’s edge, a muffled laugh echoed from the depths of the mist.
A fox beastman, Leaf, emerged.
His disheveled golden hair carried the faint air of nobility, and his green eyes flickered with ambition and sorrow.
The cursed collar around his neck spoke of his enslaved past, and a black crest ring gleamed on his finger.
"Tch, caught already? Servants of the goddess… you lot again. Talk about bad luck."
Leaf laughed with a theatrical flair.
Behind him appeared a wolf beastman, Geva.
His sturdy frame, gray hair, and icy blue eyes exuded a warrior’s pride and resignation to his past.
A fang necklace swayed at his chest.
"Don’t move, humans. I’m Geva. …This time, we won’t back down so easily."
His low growl tightened the forest’s air.
Leaf raised a hand, and twenty scouts emerged from the bushes, drawing blades to surround the trio.
Freyda readied her bow, standing beside Radix.
Her eyes were fixed on the enemy, but her voice was directed at him.
"I’m not the same as before. This time, I won’t let them escape—I’ll never forgive them!"
Radix raised his greatsword and declared,
"I am Radix Brightmore Spencer, son of the Sword Saint Sigurz.
Slave or not, if you wield a blade, stand with honor!"
His star-shaped pendant reflected the light, his voice resounding through the misty forest.
Leaf twisted his lips into a smirk.
"The Sword Saint’s kid, huh? This could be my chance to make a name for myself."
Geva touched his necklace, muttering lowly,
"The Sword Saint’s son? No wonder you’re unnaturally strong."
The mist thickened, and the distant gas lamps flickered faintly.
But in that moment, Leaf’s lips curled, and he pulled something from the shadow of a tree, hurling it at Freyda.
"Here ya go, little lady!"
It was a writhing snake.
The Trial of Sword and Heart
"—Eek!"
Freyda’s scream echoed through the forest as the snake’s scales gleamed in the sunlight.
Its forked tongue flickered as it slithered through the air.
Freyda gripped her bow tightly and leaped back.
Radix raised his greatsword, stepping forward.
"Stay calm, Freyda! The snake isn’t the real enemy."
Leaf’s mocking laughter rang from the bushes.
"Haha, got her! A noble lady, trembling at a single snake?
Thought a lightning bolt struck!"
Freyda’s cheeks flushed with anger, her fists clenched.
But Radix remained unfazed, his gaze fixed on Leaf.
His greatsword glinted dully.
"You gave your name, Leaf. Remember it before I cut that tongue of yours."
Leaf turned away with a cool expression, waving a hand.
"Crybabies, take note. Next time we meet, bring a proper sword, yeah?"
"…I won’t forgive you. You’ll regret that mockery!"
Freyda shouted, but Radix placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Freyda, don’t let anger consume you. That’s what they want."
Freyda shook off his hand and readied her bow again, her eyes burning with anger and humiliation.
"Don’t touch me! I’m not so weak as to need pity! I’ll crush that fox’s smug grin!"
Mare spoke quietly.
"Freyda, anger narrows your vision. Calm your heart and see the enemy’s intent."
Radix nodded, his gaze piercing the misty depths.
"Sister’s right. I’ll go first."
He gripped his greatsword, standing like an unyielding mountain.
He muttered lowly,
"Noble pride isn’t about winning with a sword. It’s about not yielding to your own passions."
But Freyda, her cheeks red with fury, ignored his words and charged into the mist with a scream.
"Don’t think you’ll leave here alive!"
"Freyda, wait!"
Mare called out, but Radix silently raised his greatsword and followed her.
His back, cutting through the mist, brimmed with unwavering resolve.
Mare clutched her pendant and whispered,
"Goddess Venus… guide their hearts."
In the deep, misty forest, the bell of trial tolled softly.
The Sperbia Empire, Obsidian Palace
In the Sperbia Empire’s Obsidian Palace, atop the northern tower—
In a chamber overlooking the emperor’s sickbed, a spoonful of poison on a silver tray glinted coldly.
"If we seize Vestas Mining Town, we can forge swords and guns endlessly, reshaping the continent’s wars.
Its value outweighs gold and silver."
Crown Prince Lugna Sebastian Valheim murmured, as if befriending the room’s chill.
"But before that mining town stands Baron Spencer, a man who lives for ideals over loyalty. Quite troublesome."
Baron Dukle narrowed his eyes, his voice as cold as dry ice.
"Killing the father is less fitting for the Empire’s name than taking a hostage.
—‘Protect’ Radix Brightmore Spencer. Publicly an honored guest, but in truth, a fawn in a gilded cage."
"Understood. To keep Endval’s lords in check, his presence is ideal. To sway the father, start with the son."
Lugna smiled, but his eyes were as if already gazing at the dead.
"Begin. Strike the iron while it’s hot. Now is the time the Empire’s blood pulses. This is the first step to making the Empire truly great."
Afterword
To those reading for the first time and to those who always support me, thank you for visiting.
In the first chapter of The Saintess’s Prayer and the Shadow of the Beast, set in a remote mining village enveloped in spring mist, we witnessed the intertwining of Mare’s prayers, Radix’s quiet pride in his sword, and Freyda’s dazzling passion.
I would be delighted if you noticed the subtle pulse of lineage pride and youthful struggles beating within their modest daily lives.
However, beyond the serene mist, the gears of the era have already begun to turn with a resounding clank.
The Sperbia Empire—lurking in the shadow of its throne is the ailing emperor and Crown Prince Lugna, who seizes the opportunity of his absence. His hands are cold, and though his words brim with dignity, they carry an unshakable will for domination.
Radix’s name has already been inscribed in the imperial capital’s missives. How will his youthful aspirations confront the schemes of a great empire?
This work is a story that will unfold the themes of aspiration and love, pride and intrigue, and above all, the question of what choices people make when standing at the edge of the abyss.
Your thoughts and feedback would be greatly encouraging as we move forward.
It would bring me no greater joy as an author than to know there are those who resonate with Freyda’s straightforward passion.
Until we meet again beyond the mist in the next chapter.
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