Bonus Story: From the Notes of a Certain Priest

Bonus Story:
From the Notes of a Certain Priest

 

HELLO, I’M LAPIS. Just your average, everyday demon.

You might say that introducing myself as a demon contradicts my claim to be average, and in fact a lot of people (humans, that is) think so. But get a large-enough group of any people together, and it makes sense that most of them would be average, no?

Putting all that philosophizing aside, you may be wondering why a normal, healthy little demon girl is writing this meaningless spiel. Well, it all started one morning when my parents suddenly kicked me out of the house, saying I needed to go see the wider world.

My world until that moment had been in a basin surrounded by high mountains. However, they wanted me to see the world beyond it—that of humans and demihumans. Demons were evidently just a little too strong to live among the other races, however, so I would have to learn skills to conceal my abilities.

Now that was a trick I never quite figured out. Thus, I was certain I’d never be able to live among the humans. My parents, on the other hand, soon resorted to somewhat drastic measures to resolve the issue.

Get this. They stole their daughter’s limbs and eyes while she was asleep and replaced them with artificial prosthetics. I know it sounds crazy, and I think my parents are even crazier for hiding those body parts all over the world and telling their poor daughter to go look for them.

On a side note, once I finish my search, I have every intention of interrogating them on the details of their grand heist. I mean, my legs were detached at quite a precarious place. If that was Father’s handiwork, it would mean not only did he sneak into his sleeping daughter’s room, he had to tamper with the base of her thigh! I don’t believe this is a matter I can let slide without a few well-placed punches.

That aside, there I found myself, traveling the world because I had been kicked out. I didn’t have any particularly strong feelings on the matter. Demons are famous for looking young regardless of whatever ridiculous age they attain, but I was just as eighteen as I appeared to be. I was hopeful that gaining experience while young would actually work in my favor, down the road.

Honestly, I would have liked it if my parents had been a bit more, hm, tactful in their means, but the dismemberment didn’t particularly hurt or feel nauseating or anything of the sort. So, well, I figured that perhaps I could live with it.

It wasn’t difficult to blend in with the humans. My purple eyes—a demon’s distinguishing trait—had been replaced with prosthetics as well, so I didn’t need to conceal them. My presence had also weakened considerably with the loss of my limbs, and as long as I didn’t get too serious, I felt practically human to be around.

My only other worry was how I would earn my keep. If I sold the items I’d brought from home, I would surely have had enough to play around for a long time. Of course, that would have prevented me from fulfilling my parents’ command to go out and properly see the world. I felt like I had to work, at least to a certain degree. As one might expect, I had a certain knack for all sorts of things. It wasn’t hard to find my calling.

Among humans, it’s generally said that demons have no faith. This is mistaken. It’s more accurate to say that there are hardly any gods worthy of our devotion, and the right gods actually have a number of pious demonic adherents.

I—as you might imagine—was one of them. I offered my belief to the god of knowledge, who had grown relatively popular among my kin. That eventually led me to the priesthood, a development that would ultimately get me through my troubles.

If you’re wondering how I got my certifications in the human world, it’s pretty simple. I banged on the church door until they let me in, then went through all the proper procedures and passed all the tests. I have nothing to feel guilty about. I wasn’t the best at pretending to be human, but with a bit of time, I picked up all the tools I needed to manage. Status goes a long way in all worlds, you see.

I did consider entering service at some church like any other priest, but that would essentially have tied me down to the spot, and that would have gone against my parents’ instructions. In which case, the peripatetic, multifaceted lifestyle of an adventurer sounded like the right one for me. This was a path that only eccentrics chose, and I was sure a priest who could use healing blessings would be in high demand.

Becoming an adventurer was far easier than becoming a priest. I went up to the guild—a sort of mutual aid organization—gave them my name, and that was it. I was no longer a priest; I was an adventuring priest.

That was where I ran into my next problem. An adventurer couldn’t work alone. More accurately, adventurers didn’t work alone, but that was just semantics. Sure, I could most likely have carried out any of the quests for copper-rank adventurers all by my lonesome. Unfortunately, if a priest thought to have no combat abilities continued completing job after job on her own, she would without a doubt draw suspicion.

I didn’t think I’d be suddenly outed as a demon, but I didn’t want any unnecessary attention. With that in mind, I searched out a party—inexperienced and incapable. If they were too competent, I would have to carry out all sorts of troublesome jobs, and I wasn’t that keen on working. I wanted a position with a group that just took a moderate number of jobs, moved from town to town, and let me get a bit of experience along the way. That was all I needed.

In hindsight, I can only say I was naïve. I was still eighteen at the time, too young to be ever prudent. I don’t blame myself, but with that mindset, the party I joined—rather, they invited me and I accepted—was one I would sum up with two words: the worst.

A swordsman and thief girl right out of the sticks. A magician who had proven herself relatively skilled at her academy. I thought the party fulfilled my criteria well enough, but their conduct beggared belief. They would thoughtlessly cross swords with foes, enter enemy territory without prior investigation, waste magic where it wasn’t necessary… Just exactly the sort of party that would make you want to scream, “How thoughtless can you be?!”

Time and time again, I softly wrapped this message in silk and conveyed it as gently as I could. What do you think they said? “We’ll be fine as long as we have a swordsman.” “We can manage if we’re together.” “We’ll be fine; I believe in you.”

All sentiment, no meat.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the members apart from myself seemed to be so terribly, terribly close. Whether it be an inn in town, or a tent on the way, they put their intimacy on full display. The walls shook day after day.

Town, yes, maybe there I could understand. But if they insisted on conducting themselves in such a way when we were out camping, how were we supposed to rotate the watch? Luckily, my abilities as a demon gave me stamina far exceeding human understanding. One or two sleepless nights wasn’t enough to deter me, but my mental fatigue grew and grew, and weakened as I was, I frequently found myself fearing these fine folks, who had cornered a demon into accepting such dreadful working conditions.

I felt like I was starting to understand why humans were the world’s most populous creature, and why they had the widest biosphere. The way things were going, I began betting on whether the anxiety or the sleep deprivation would take me out first.

That was when I met him.

If I had to describe the impression I got when we first met, I would say he was like a lump of steel. His well-trained body was outfitted with equipment it took only a glance to see he was utterly accustomed to wearing. Though he said he was a former mercenary, I had always pictured such folks to be a bit rowdier. And while his words were a bit rough around the edges, he gave off the impression of someone who had received at least some form of education. Even the way he walked hinted at the hidden depths of his skills.

With all that said, he had lived his entire life as a mercenary, and his knowledge was partial in a number of regards. He certainly had no experience as an adventurer. Nevertheless, I got the feeling he was a tad too competent for my liking.

But he didn’t make a stink upon brushing up against our party’s debauchery, and the humility with which he quietly accepted a one-man night watch was quite favorable. He was kind enough to cheerfully accept my conversation that night, where he demonstrated he was even a bit amusing. I had nothing to criticize.

I knew then we couldn’t let him go. We needed him in our party whether he liked it or not.

That was where things took a turn. In the middle of our job, my original party members were tragically wiped out by goblins, and I myself was incapacitated by an unanticipated attack. To think, the demon who went out to see the world would end up a goblin pincushion. This was no laughing matter, and I had about given up.

Yet he saved my life.

They say that love often blooms when people are placed together in dire circumstances. They also say those relationships don’t last long. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort at the time. I just knew I would never find anyone better to work alongside…and I carelessly revealed my identity.

Thinking back on it now, if I take into consideration just how despised demons are, there was absolutely no reason for me to let the cat out of the bag. However, fortunately, while he was a little surprised, he showed me no antipathy, and he even continued to help me. Because of him, I avoided a dreadful final scene.

What we had expected to be a simple goblin hunt ultimately led us back to ruins of the ancient kingdom. I was subsequently wrapped up in a dreadful situation that included a massive goblin stampede, which I found a bit extreme for my tastes. But once it was all over, it was the sort of thing I could look back on and think, “Meh, it was one of those days.”

Putting all that aside, by that point, I couldn’t possibly let Mr. Loren get away. I’ll be the first to admit it I was somewhat manipulative, not to mention ungrateful to someone who had protected my life and virtue, but I ultimately succeeded in getting a promise that we would travel together.

I have no intentions of making Mr. Loren regret that decision. My only concern is whether what I can grant him will be equal to what I will surely gain through this exchange. You see, I’m sure that working with him will allow me to experience even more than my parents had hoped.

Yes, I pray Mr. Loren comes out the other end of this thinking that our contract was no mistake. But that will be a work in progress, and one that requires some proper thought on my part.

Let’s end my ramblings there for now.

Why am I even writing this? I don’t plan on showing it to anyone. Maybe I can let my mother have a read-through when I return home.

On second thought, perhaps I might let Mr. Loren have a glimpse someday… No, perhaps… Maybe, just maybe I’m writing this incoherent drivel in the hopes that one day I can look back on it with him and laugh at how something like this or that happened to us, once upon a time.

I’d better put down my pen before I write anything that will leave me writhing in agony on my reread. Such delusions are best kept to myself, and to my dreams.