Even after that, Cruje examined Gladia's eyes more carefully to prove she wasn't a quack—but it didn't get her anywhere.
If anything, the longer it went on, the sharper Aiolette's gaze toward Cruje became.
As far as Aiolette was concerned, she had tolerated the nuisance of bringing Cruje along because she was a Saintess and might actually be useful—only for Cruje to skip the healing entirely and press herself against Gladia. The whole thing was deeply irritating.
And that wasn't the only thing stoking Aiolette's temper.
*…Dia actually likes her. She really likes her!*
What irritated Aiolette even more was Gladia's attitude—the way she seemed, inexplicably, to be fond of Cruje.
Aiolette had spent three years at Gladia's side, and she was confident she knew Gladia better than anyone in the world.
As if to prove it, she could read the subtle shifts in Gladia's expression that most people would never catch.
And right now, what Aiolette saw on Gladia's face was the look of a child finally meeting the storybook hero she had adored from afar.
…Well. Given that Gladia was currently starstruck over the protagonist of her all-time favorite game, Aiolette had read her perfectly.
But since Aiolette had no way of knowing that, she was left to find another explanation.
*The chest. Is it the chest? Has she bewitched Dia with those vulgar lumps of fat?*
With that thought, Aiolette quietly looked down at her own chest.
It wasn't small, exactly—but compared to Cruje's sheer enormity, the difference was a firefly before the sun. A garden hill before Everest.
*Ugh…!*
A nameless sense of defeat washed over her, and Aiolette's fingers twitched.
Her shadow twitched with them.
*Should I just physically remove her?*
It was exactly the sort of impulse that called to mind a certain maid who had once gone blind with jealousy—literally and figuratively—and reached for her sword.
They say a master takes after her servant.
Or perhaps it was the servant who had taken after her master.
Either way, there was one person who noticed the shift in Aiolette faster than anyone else.
That person was Gladia, currently in the middle of Cruje's examination.
She had been briefly enchanted by Cruje's overwhelming maternal presence and had, for a moment, forgotten about Aiolette entirely—but the instant Aiolette's mana began to stir, Gladia snapped back to her senses.
Her Heart-Sight registered Aiolette's emotions teetering on the edge of detonation and sent a relentless stream of warnings to its owner.
*Air raid! Air raid!*
Gladia's body moved on reflex.
"Oh—Gladia? The examination isn't quite finished yet…?"
Gladia pushed Cruje away—gently, but without any room for argument. Distance established.
Even that small separation was enough for Aiolette's furiously churning mana to settle, just barely, by a fraction.
Gladia didn't waste the opening. She slipped around behind Aiolette like water finding its course, wrapped both arms around her mistress's waist before she could boil over, and dropped them both onto the bed with a soft thud.
The Aiolette Containment Formation.
One arm locked firmly around Aiolette's waist. The other hand moved to stroke her hair, slow and gentle.
Then Gladia leaned in and poured a torrent of praise directly into Aiolette's ear.
Bringing the Saintess for my sake—my lady is the best.
My lady's heart is as fine and soft as silk.
*Sniff sniff*, my lady smells so good, *huff huff*—
…There was something a little odd in the middle there, but Gladia kept the praise coming without pause, pouring every last scrap of her soul into it. Before long, Aiolette had entirely forgotten she'd been angry at all. She was already preening, nose tilting upward with quiet satisfaction.
Nestled in Gladia's arms, head being petted, she looked nothing like the witch who had been radiating terrifying mana just moments before.
Cruje stared at the two of them with an expression of pure disbelief.
Honestly.
A short while later, Aiolette had calmed down completely.
She did not, however, move out of Gladia's arms.
She stayed perched on Gladia's lap, crossed her legs, and fixed Cruje with a level stare.
The pose carried all the dignity and authority befitting the infamous Witch of Drnaris—
—except that her body was still tucked snugly into Gladia's embrace, her head resting against the maid's chest, which rather undermined the entire effect.
The two of them were whispering to each other as though Cruje, who was staring blankly at them, didn't exist.
"…Can't we just throw her out? She's a complete quack."
"…She did come to help, though. We could at least hear her out."
"…It's such a bother."
Cruje, who had been listening to every word, could not hold back.
"…I can hear you, you know."
Aiolette didn't so much as flinch.
She simply looked at Cruje with an expression that said, *and what are you going to do about it?*
In that gaze, Cruje felt something very real.
*This woman is fully prepared to use me up and throw me out the moment she's done with me.*
It was a thoroughly thuggish way to treat a Saintess—invite her over, put her to work, and then discard her the moment the job was done—but what could Cruje do?
The one who needs something has to bow.
Aiolette had a perfect read on who held the power in this situation.
Cruje barely managed to swallow the surge of indignation rising in her chest.
Naturally, neither Aiolette nor Gladia spared a thought for Cruje's feelings.
"So what did you actually want to say? We're busy. Keep it short."
"…Fine."
Cruje took a slow breath to steady herself, then finally spoke.
"I'll get straight to the point. There's someone I've been searching for here at the Academy."
"Someone you're searching for? Who?"
Aiolette propped her chin on her hand, the picture of boredom. Still leaning against Gladia's chest, one leg swinging idly, she made it abundantly clear she had no interest in whatever Cruje was about to say.
But Cruje pressed on, her eyes burning with conviction.
"…A Hero. Someone born to carry the fate of this continent—to save it from the calamity that is coming."
***
Until two years ago, Cruje had been nothing more than an ordinary girl living in a small village on the western edge of the Libertian Empire.
Admittedly, her overwhelming presence had always been anything but ordinary.
The moment that changed her life came when Cruje, quietly excluded by the other village girls who resented her for it, sought peace of mind in the only church the village had.
The old building was nearly deserted, still and quiet. Cruje knelt alone before the goddess's statue.
Before her stood the stone likeness of Leto, Goddess of Light, wearing a serene smile.
Cruje pressed her clasped hands to her chest and began to pray in silence. It was a simple wish, the kind only a country girl could make—to be free from the jealousy and cruelty of the other children, and to find some measure of peace.
And then, in that moment, a miracle happened.
A vast column of pure white light broke through the old church's ceiling, and a sacred voice flowed from the statue of the goddess Leto and spoke directly to Cruje.
[Hear me. Before long, the sealed Demon King shall be reborn upon this earth, and the world shall once again be stained with blood and screaming.]
[Yet even within that despair, there shall be a single ray of light to save the continent—a Hero destined to bear the fate of the world shall awaken. That Hero shall rise, two years hence, in the place where the wisdom of the stars is gathered….]
[Cruje. I bestow upon you the sacred power of the Saintess. Go to the Academy and become my eyes. Find the Hero there, stand against the coming calamity, and save this world.]
And so Cruje became a Saintess.
***
"And so I became a Saintess, entered the Church, spent two years in training, and enrolled here at Stellar Academy. All for the sake of finding the Hero."
Cruje exhaled slowly as she finished, as though the weight of the memory still sat with her.
*Surely they understand how important this is after hearing all that.*
It was a story about the Demon King and the Hero. Even a thousand years later, the tales of the Demon King's armies were still told across the continent—no one who lived here could fail to grasp the gravity of it.
…No one ordinary, at least.
Gladia and Aiolette showed no reaction to Cruje's startling confession.
Gladia, as a veteran of *Saintess & Hero*, already knew about the Demon King's resurrection and the Hero's awakening, so there was little to surprise her. Aiolette simply didn't care.
Their lack of response left Cruje more flustered than anything else.
"The Demon King! The Demon King! The calamity that nearly destroyed the continent a thousand years ago!"
Cruje made her case with passionate urgency, but Aiolette's response was ice-cold.
She toyed idly with Gladia's hand where it held her, and spoke without looking up.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Pardon?"
"Why is the Demon King's resurrection my problem?"
"Well—if the Demon King returns, the entire continent is in danger, so obviously it concerns—"
"You said there's a Hero, didn't you? Let them handle it."
Aiolette's breezy indifference left Cruje opening and closing her mouth like a fish.
"We have to find the Hero ourselves!!!"
"And why exactly do we have to do that?"
Truthfully, Aiolette's reaction wasn't wrong.
The Demon King and the Hero were, in the end, not particularly Aiolette's or Gladia's concern—Gladia's perspective was a little different, but only a little—and neither of them could understand why any of this was being presented to them as something urgent and relevant.
If the Demon King was going to be resurrected and the Hero needed to be found, then Cruje should go find the Hero. Why was she clinging to them?
Right now, Aiolette was far more interested in deciding what to have for dinner with Gladia.
But Cruje had her reasons.
Her original plan had been to enroll at Stellar Academy and quietly search for the Hero alongside the Church's people who had enrolled with her—working beneath the surface, out of sight.
There was no need to stir up panic by announcing the Demon King's resurrection and a Hero search right away. And as time passed, the movements of the Demon King's followers and the demon factions had grown increasingly unsettling, which made discretion all the more essential.
But that plan had unraveled the night before enrollment.
The goddess, silent since delivering her revelation two years ago, had spoken again.
The message was brief.
[Seek help from Drnaris.]
With only those words, the goddess fell silent once more.
Cruje had hastily revised her plans and approached Aiolette accordingly.
…She hadn't accounted for Aiolette being quite this uncooperative.
*What kind of person is this!*
Aiolette, knowing none of this, found Cruje's behavior simply baffling.
"The revelation came to you, didn't it? Then you handle it."
"I was going to, but the goddess told me to seek help from Drnaris…."
"The goddess did? Hmm…."
Aiolette paused to consider that for a moment, but a goddess's word alone wasn't enough to change her mind.
She had decided she'd heard enough and was about to send Cruje on her way so she and Gladia could go to dinner—when Gladia tugged quietly at her sleeve and leaned in close.
"…My lady. My lady."
"…What?"
"…Tell her we'll help."
"…What? Why would we get involved in something this tedious?"
Aiolette frowned, making her displeasure plain. But a sly smile had already crept onto Gladia's face.
"…I noticed something during the examination just now. Her holy power is the real thing. If you keep her close, she'll come in useful more times than you can count."
"…But getting tangled up with the Church is the last thing I want."
"…My lady, we're the ones holding all the cards here."
Gladia smiled and murmured into Aiolette's ear.
The truth was, Gladia had decided to help the moment she heard Cruje's story.
*The main storyline of Saintess & Hero is offering me a seat, and I'm supposed to say no?*
But helping was one thing. Getting something in return was only natural.
"…A Saintess of her standing must have substantial Church backing. We should help ourselves to some of that."
The suggestion—essentially, *let's fleece the Church*—made Aiolette's ears perk up immediately.
As though Gladia's smile were contagious, the dissatisfied look on Aiolette's face slowly gave way to one that mirrored Gladia's exactly.
Smoothly, as if on cue, Aiolette and Gladia turned their heads toward Cruje at the exact same moment.
"Eek…?!"
Perhaps she sensed something.
Cruje flinched and shuddered. Her chest shuddered with her, briefly casting a spell of enchantment over Gladia—but Gladia held firm with a will of iron.
Before Cruje quite knew what was happening, the two of them had drifted to either side of her and draped their arms over her shoulders with warm familiarity.
"Fine. We'll help."
"Really?! Oh, thank you so much, Gladia! Aiolette!"
Cruje's face lit up instantly. She pressed her hands together, eyes glistening with tears of relief. Watching the overjoyed Saintess, Gladia let the tip of her tongue slide briefly over her lips.
"That said—nothing in this world is free, is it? It feels a little much to ask us to walk into something this dangerous empty-handed."
"…Pardon?"
The joy drained from Cruje's face in an instant, replaced by something rigid.
Gladia continued without missing a beat.
"Now then, Saintess? Why don't you start by taking out your purse? We'll need to see just how sincere you are before we can move things along~"
Her voice was perfectly pleasant. So why was it that Cruje's mind kept conjuring images of the street toughs who used to lurk in the back alleys of her old village?
Pinned on both sides by two people gripping her shoulders with considerable force, Cruje had no choice but to produce her purse with trembling hands.
A short while later…
"All right. I think that's a sufficient demonstration of sincerity."
"Quite. I had no idea the Saintess wanted us this badly."
"…Sob."
The Saintess wiped her eyes as she stared at her now-empty purse, watching the two of them celebrate with gleeful satisfaction.
Not that they paid her any mind. The pair departed to enjoy a lovely dinner, funded entirely by the Saintess's generous *sincerity*.
The Saintess has become a friend of Drnaris!
This friendship, it should be noted, is expected to last forever—provided the Saintess never forgets to pay her friendship dues.
Congratulations, Cruje. You've made some friends.