Episode 16: Excessive Consideration (1)
The voice was so slurred with drink that it held not a trace of divine dignity.
Iskandel, who had been tossed on a sea of self-loathing and self-mockery, forgot his manners for a moment and pointed toward the source of the oppressive voice.
“Forgive the rude question, but… is the goddess of war drunk right now?”
“Well…”
With no excuse to offer, Hashana flushed from head to toe.
Iskandel stared, spellbound, as the blush spread beneath the sheer fabric of her clothes, then cleared his throat and looked away.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just the first time I’ve ever heard a tipsy god.”
She remained silent.
“Durgtah is full of firsts for me.”
He lifted his arm, marveling at the divine bellow that shook the very air.
There was no sarcasm or provocation in his expression, only pure awe.
The drunken ranting, so slurred it was hard to decipher, rode the sea wind and wrapped around them, making the thin cloak thump rhythmically against his shoulders.
“Oh.”
A short exclamation slipped from his lips.
Until now, his only experience with divine power involved it forcibly grabbing his wrist, dragging him down, and tearing at him.
This was an astonishingly different experience.
That guileless exclamation only fanned the flames of Hashana’s embarrassment.
‘I was going to wait until Rsanda was just tipsy enough to be in a good mood, then rush through the introductions and get the prince settled for the night… Why did she have to get this drunk and throw a tantrum at our guest?’
She hid her rising shame behind a polite, hostess’s smile and was about to cobble together some excuse when—
“You filthy spy! You reek of Disorde and Karasvati—the gods who chewed you up and spat you out! Do you really think you can set foot in my sanctuary and walk out alive?”
The corners of Iskandel’s mouth, which had been curved in a faint smile of boyish wonder, twitched and froze.
Hashana, who had been watching him anxiously, could no longer contain her anger and raised her voice for the first time in her life.
“I’ve heard enough!
What could the Empire possibly gain by sending a spy to this tiny, self-sufficient city-state?
At least try to make some sense!”
“I am the goddess of war!
My instincts are never wrong!”
“I am the Saintess of War that you created, Rsanda.
And my instincts say that the chances of war or spies are extremely low.”
Until now, no matter what unreasonable demands Rsanda made, Hashana had always coaxed and soothed her, but now she was snapping back.
The priests, looking as if they might faint, came running down in a panic.
Their flustered attempts to wave their hands and break up the fight only poured oil on the fire.
“From this moment on, no one takes a single step.”
Hashana, who had been raising her voice, suddenly dropped it into a flat command.
The priests, who had been rushing forward without thinking, sucked in a breath and froze in place.
As Hashana’s expression hardened, only the howling of the sea wind filled the narrow path.
The saintess, who almost never raised her voice or hardened her face, began to radiate a coldness the priests had never seen.
They could only swallow dryly, wishing the ground would swallow them whole.
“You are my creation, made to listen to my voice and convey it to mortals. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Have you forgotten your duty to deliver my will so completely that you dare raise your voice and glare at your creator?”
“As I recall, you said you created me to compensate for your shortcomings.
In that case, perhaps my will is merely proof of your greatest failing.”
Her retort was icy, and Hashana clenched her fist even tighter.
Until now, this path had been a place that only she could tread freely.
No matter how urgent the matter or who the person was, they had always needed her permission to step onto this ground.
It was the only place she could truly be alone, and the only place to which the otherwise unmaterialistic woman felt any real attachment.
Now, this private space was marred by a stranger’s footprints and the thick stench of alcohol.
The humiliation was unbearable.
Hashana clenched her fist until her palm ached.
Her throat tight, she finally unleashed the words she had never dared say to Rsanda, her large eyes brimming with resentment.
“Does it feel good to humiliate me in front of an honored guest?
Do you remember last year, when you claimed the god of thunder was going to invade?
The entire city stayed up all night on high alert, and in the end, all we got was a heavy rainstorm.
I hope you haven’t forgotten the damages we suffered from that fiasco.”
“…This time is different!”
“I should have just run away when I stepped outside the gate earlier.”
“What?”
With a cry that was almost a shriek, Rsanda materialized right in front of Hashana.
The saintess squared her shoulders and stood her ground, refusing to back down before her enraged creator.
The tension was so thick they looked ready to grab each other by the collar, while the priests, frozen in awkward poses, could only shift from foot to foot helplessly.
Iskandel, who had been watching the spectacle with detached amusement despite being at the center of it, swallowed a small groan.
He was certain that if no one intervened, this would escalate into a serious fight.
‘I’ve started plenty of fights, but this is the first time I’ve ever tried to stop one.’
After a brief hesitation, he stepped in front of Hashana with a rueful smile, as if he had no other choice.
“I do have the bad habit of standing back and watching when ladies fight over me… but just for today, I suppose I must intervene personally. After all, this whole quarrel began because you suspected me of being a spy, did it not?”
Rsanda raised one eyebrow and slowly raked her gaze over him from head to toe.
“Hah.
If a spy looked like this, I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to ruin his face during torture.
What a waste.”
“When you say things like that, Rsanda, it makes me want to run away.
Surely you realize that.”
Hashana, hidden behind Iskandel’s back, clicked her tongue with a sigh and grabbed him firmly around the waist.
“What?”
“You understood perfectly well what he meant, so why ask again?”
She retorted, then, without batting an eye, lifted the stunned Iskandel and set him safely behind her before dusting off her hands with a long sigh.
Iskandel stared blankly down at the neat crown of her head, unable to accept the reality before him. Find the original chapter at g.com.
‘That tiny woman… just picked me up?’
His shocked gaze remained fixed on her golden hair.
The small, round head that had stepped before him like a shield radiated a fierce determination, as if she intended to say everything she had been holding back.
Rsanda and Hashana began hurling the resentments that had built up over long years at each other in harsh words, but none of it reached his ears.
The small saintess was so beautiful that even the slightly off-center whorl of hair on the back of her head seemed lovely.
As the impulse to touch the center of that tiny, sun-colored swirl with his fingertips arose, Iskandel let out a breathy, unhinged laugh.
“Ha… haha!”
It was ridiculous that someone so small he could see the top of her head was standing before him, claiming she would protect him.
It was ridiculous that a goddess and her saintess were having such a childish argument.
And it was ridiculous that he, caught in the middle of their quarrel, was idly thinking about touching her hair.
As his soft laughter grew, Rsanda, already in a foul mood, scowled.
“The goddess and her saintess are fighting, and you’re laughing? They say you burn herbs nearly every day. I see you’ve truly lost your mind.”
He nodded, accepting the sharp criticism, and countered with a question of his own.
“Then let me ask you this, Rsanda.
Would you really send someone like me—a man who, as you just pointed out, burns herbs every day and isn’t in his right mind—to be a spy?”
“Uh…?”
Rsanda blinked slowly, her hazy eyes showing she’d been tripped up by her own words.
“As the goddess of war, you surely know better than I, but isn’t it standard practice to choose spies with unremarkable faces, so they can move about more freely?”
“Well, yes, generally…”
“Would someone like me, who would be hard to overlook even if you dunked me in mud, really be suitable as a spy?”
“…People do not usually say that about themselves.”
“Whether I say it myself or not, it’s an obvious fact, so I might as well be upfront about it.”
Iskandel calmly showered himself with praise until Rsanda looked sick of hearing it, then slowly curled his lips into a smile.
The wider his smile became, the deeper her disgust grew.
He held that smile as he bared his weaknesses to the goddess, who was drunk on both wine and rage.
“As you said, I was born to a lowborn mother and have lived a rather dissolute life.
I am called a prince now thanks to His Majesty, the Emperor’s mercy, but that will end once my brother ascends the throne.
If I’m lucky, I’ll keep my head and be exiled.
That is my position.”
“…What is this brat trying to say, laying all that groundwork?”
Realizing that he was skillfully using self-pity to open the conversation, Rsanda frowned suspiciously.
Even Hashana, who had been standing firm against Rsanda, turned her head to study Iskandel’s expression.
He flashed her a reassuring grin and moved to stand beside her.
“Because my situation is so precarious, the success of this delegation is closely tied to my future survival.”
“I follow.”
“Therefore, I ask that you make full use of me in your plans. Let me prove my own innocence.”
Rsanda’s brows drew together sharply.
“I am about to prepare for war against the Empire’s invasion.
And you are saying you will cooperate with that?”
“I will not say it twice.”
Rsanda blinked, her mouth pulling into a frown as she jabbed a finger at him.
“Is this kid in his right mind?”