Wrath

Outside, it had grown quite noisy, with murmurs occasionally punctuated by sharp screams.

Iselin and Adelin, who had been reading Scripture inside the room, stopped what they were doing and strained their ears, wondering what was happening.

At that moment,

Bang!

The door burst open roughly, and two enforcers dragged in Lyset’s limp body, throwing her onto the bed as if discarding her.

Behind them, the Matron Sister, wearing a smug smile, tossed a vial of medicine at Iselin.

“Apply this three times a day until it heals.”

With that, the enforcers and the Matron Sister shut the door and vanished.

Adelin and Iselin, stunned into silence, hurried toward the collapsed Lyset, who was nearly unconscious.

“Heavens! Sister Lyset, what happened to you! Lyset!!!”

Adelin cried out while stroking Lyset’s back.

“Ahhh!!!”

Lyset screamed in pain.

At that moment, Adelin and Iselin sensed something and lifted Lyset’s habit.

“Oh… my God, how could this be!”

Adelin’s eyes and mouth flew open. Iselin barely clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

Her back was shredded and split, covered in blood from the marks of a soaked leather whip. The wounds, bleeding and torn, stood in stark contrast against the snow-white skin of Lyset’s back, her side, and even her hips.

“Did Sister Lyset commit such a grave sin to deserve this? What on earth did she do?!”

“Adelin, quiet… Quickly, the medicine first!”

Adelin held Lyset still, keeping her from moving, while Iselin opened the vial and gently spread the sticky ointment over the wounds.

“Ahhh! It hurts, it hurts…”

“Just a little longer, Sister Lyset. It’ll get better soon.”

Iselin bit her lip hard as she looked at that fragile back.

Tears trickled from Lyset’s eyes as she lay face-down.

The Prioress’s office.

“Right now, I feel greater disappointment in Sister Roze than in Sister Lyset, who caused all this.”

“Th-that’s…”

“Silence!”

Smack!

Roze, hands bound, felt once more the sting of the leather-gloved hand.

“How dare a mere nun speak out in this solemn gathering that I preside over, without permission?”

The Prioress’s face twisted even more savagely.

Roze had never imagined, in over ten years of seeing this Prioress, that such expressions and madness lurked within her. That made her tremble all the more in fear.

“Take her to the chair, bind her in the posture for punishment. Then you may leave.”

At the Prioress’s order, the enforcers dragged Roze to a chair and forced her down. Roze, glancing fearfully at them, shrieked at what came next.

They grabbed her legs, spread them onto the armrests, and began binding them.

“Wh-what are you doing!!!”

Roze screamed, but the enforcers ignored her, tying her legs in an “M” position. They bound her clawing, striking hands behind the chair, then stuffed a cloth into her mouth.

“Mmmph!!! Mmmph! Mmmph!”

When all was ready, the enforcers traced the Sign of the Cross to the Prioress and left. They did not utter a single word until they disappeared.

The Prioress approached Roze, who writhed in her bonds.

“What should be done with this disobedient girl?”

“…!!!”

The Prioress’s face, spitting out words and expressions Roze had never seen before, shocked her to the point her heart nearly stopped.

“Don’t be so afraid, Roze. When it’s over, you’ll crave me even more. Hohoho.”

With those words, the Prioress lifted Roze’s habit up over her thighs.

Then she opened a drawer and pulled out whips and grotesque lust-shaped implements so horrific Roze nearly fainted at the sight.

Soon, acts as vile as those once committed by Kraf and Joachim began in the Prioress’s office.

With the cloth gag in her mouth, no scream escaped outside. Yet any nun witnessing what was happening inside would have fainted on the spot.

At that moment, the Prioress unleashed her wrath in the cruelest way imaginable upon the fragile nun. Roze, who had trusted and revered this woman as a paragon of faith, now endured a horror beyond compare.

Roze had always been the most chaste and solemn, especially firm in rejecting any form of sexuality. She knew that some nuns in the convent sometimes failed to restrain their urges and broke taboos, but she had vowed never to be one of them.

But…

All she had once condemned as sinful was now coming from Cecilia, the Prioress she so deeply trusted. It was not only her body that was breaking down, but also her years as a nun and her cherished purity.

The Prioress, pulling away from the nearly unconscious Roze, took a small bottle from the drawer.

“Drink a sip of this medicine. It will make you better. Quickly!”

The Prioress’s eyes gleamed. Roze shut her eyes and took a sip of the fragrant herbal potion.

Soon, a warmth like drunkenness spread through her body.

Unbelievable acts resumed. She wished the potion would let her sleep in intoxication, but cruelly it did not.

That night stretched on endlessly, as though it would never end.

The next morning, Christoph deliberately carried himself a document sealed with the Lord’s signet: an invitation to formally summon Lyset into the castle to honor her.

At the sight of Christoph, the guards of the Grand Cathedral flung open the gates and blew their trumpets, signaling the visit of the Lord and his direct family.

The cathedral, just beginning its morning routines, was thrown into commotion—for such visits were usually preceded by advance notice and formal arrangements.

Of course, it was understood that the cathedral could always be visited for religious purposes (prayer, confession), and since it was within the Duchy’s domain, the Lord was entitled to inspect it at any time.

Thus, strictly speaking, there was no reason this visit should pose a problem in itself.

Christoph made his way not to the convent but directly to the cathedral.

He judged it improper to stride unannounced into a convent full of women, and reasoned it wiser to meet privately with Kraf, the High Priest of the Cathedral, a higher authority than the convent.

Surely yesterday’s disturbance had not yet reached Kraf’s ears; the convent must have been handling it internally.

—When you fight something, move above it, and you can win easily with little effort.

Those were the words his mother, the Duchess, had told him the night before.

‘Truly a seasoned woman. Had she been born a man, she might have conquered and ruled several duchies.’

Christoph smiled as he crossed the courtyard.

A ceremonial priest hurried toward him.

“Peace in the Lord be with you. Lord Christoph, what brings you here suddenly without message…”

“Peace in the Lord. I have come to deliver an official document.”

“An official document?”

“Yes. It conveys the Lord’s gratitude for yesterday’s Christmas Mass, and as the Lord’s deputy, I wish to invite a particular person to the Castle to commend them personally.”

It sounded in no way troubling; relief spread across the ceremonial priest’s face.

“In that case…”

“Indeed. I came to see High Priest Kraf. Forgive my sudden visit; I shall wait in prayer in a chapel until his scheduled duties are finished.”

“Of course, then allow me to escort you inside.”

Christoph was confident of his victory. As his mother had said, one can feel the vigor of a winning battle from its very beginning.

That confidence filled his stride and his bearing with strength and dignity.

Crossing the grand hall, he greeted each priest he passed with the Sign of the Cross and the words “Peace in the Lord,” until he was shown into a small chapel.

“It is now after breakfast and during a light tea, which should be no inconvenience for an audience. I will go and announce your visit.”

“Please, Father.”

After a courteous bow, Christoph sipped the herbal tea brought by an acolyte, gazing at the morning sunlight streaming outside and the convent beyond.

‘Lyset…’

Christoph recalled Lyset’s beautiful figure as she sang yesterday, and the gaze she had turned toward him.

As his thoughts drifted toward yesterday’s uproar,

Knock, knock!

The door opened gently with the sound of knocking, and the ceremonial priest reappeared.

“He is ready to receive you now.”

Christoph smiled faintly and rose to his feet.

Kraf’s office.

A fine teacup with freshly poured tea sat on the table.

Seated opposite Kraf, Christoph respectfully handed him a document sealed with the Lord’s signet in melted wax.

“This document, in my capacity as Lord’s deputy, conveys thanks for yesterday’s Christmas Mass, includes a list of special offerings, and expresses gratitude for a clergy member who deeply moved the participants. We wish to invite that clergy member formally to the castle, to commend and present them with a letter of gratitude.”

At the words “special offerings,” Kraf’s brow softened, and all that followed was equally pleasing.

Kraf spoke kindly.

“For those of us who live by the Lord’s will, whether a Grand Mass or a Sunday Mass, the meaning is the same. Yet to keep the Feasts and holy days is every believer’s duty. That you came in person to show gratitude delights me greatly as High Priest.”

“Your words bring infinite honor to the Duchy. I promise to do all in my power to ensure this land continues as a testimony to the Lord’s glory and joy.”

Christoph spoke with flawless eloquence. Kraf was inwardly surprised that one so young, not yet come of age, displayed such skill.

“Well then… I will pray abundantly for the Duchy, for you, My Lord, and for your ailing father.”

“Thank you.”

Kraf broke the wax seal and unfolded the dried parchment.

The first page was not the formal message but a list of offerings.

This too was by the Duchess’s instruction.

—Once a man has something in his hand, it is not easy for him to refuse the next offer. No one wants to let go of what they hold.

Christoph’s eyes watched Kraf keenly.

Kraf scanned the list of offerings.

‘Three horses, ten geun of lead, thirteen pounds of wax, two hundred silver coins, ten bundles of leather, two hundred candles, three bottles of anointing oil, three chests of dried reindeer meat…’

All this, simply for presiding over a Grand Mass.

Never before had Nastrand Cathedral received such an extraordinary offering, formalized in document, for merely celebrating Mass—though personal donations from the Lord’s family were common. And the amount was staggering.

Kraf’s eyes stopped at the final line.

‘We hereby pledge the above offerings to Nastrand Cathedral, and promise to present an equal portion directly to High Priest Kraf, celebrant of the Grand Mass.’

And there, the clear seal of the Lord.

“This is…”

Kraf exhaled a sigh tinged with awe and looked at Christoph, who smiled.

“It is exactly as written. Now, the document on the next page…”

Kraf read the second page: flowery words of gratitude for the Grand Mass, noting that nobles, Commander of the Knight, and the Captain of the Guard were all moved by the High Priest’s special sermon and the solo hymn.

And it added: since the High Priest was too burdened with duties to be summoned lightly, they wished instead to call upon the nun who had sung the solo hymn, to represent and receive the letter of thanks.

“Hm… So yesterday’s Mass brought such joy?”

“Yes. I wished to convey thanks as written, even briefly. But since it involves a Holy Sister, I wondered if it were proper…”

Kraf considered briefly, then answered simply.

“Formerly, Sister Corua received a letter of thanks from the Duchy of Fjorland for leading aid. Throughout the Church’s history, there are many examples of Holy Sisters honored. It is no matter of difficult protocol. It is within my authority to order it.”

“I see.”

“As it happens, after tea I am to discuss the New Year’s Grand Mass with the Prioress. We may discuss this matter then as well.”

“Of course.”

Christoph rejoiced inwardly. This was a game already won, no matter what. The Prioress might have heard of yesterday’s affair, but she could never defy the High Priest’s command.

He longed to see her face as she lost.

As light conversation passed, a priest announced the Prioress’s arrival.

The door opened and the Prioress entered, halting at the sight of Christoph. As expected, her face showed clear dismay.

Christoph rose, smiling, and solemnly traced the Sign of the Cross.

“Peace in the Lord be with you, Prioress Cecilia. I come in the capacity of Lord’s deputy.”

“Pea… peace in the Lord. Lord Christoph, deputy of the Duke…”

After an exchange of formal greetings, High Priest Kraf conveyed the contents of the official document he had received from Christoph—omitting, of course, the part about the offerings he himself would receive.

“Therefore, as the Young Lord wishes to invite the nun who sang yesterday’s solo hymn to present her with a letter of thanks, have her prepare to come at once.”

The Prioress’s face turned deathly pale.

It was she who had sentenced Lyset to fifty lashes simply for exchanging glances with Christoph. Fifty lashes meant Lyset would still be lying incapacitated today, her back torn open, unable even to straighten herself to walk.

“Th-the nun is in no condition to receive a letter of thanks at present…”

Christoph tilted his head.

‘In no condition to receive a letter of thanks? What does that mean? Surely not…’

Christoph immediately realized it meant something had been done to Lyset. Rage sparked in his eyes.

Kraf, too, was puzzled. Unaware of yesterday’s uproar, he could not imagine what had happened to Lyset. He asked the Prioress:

“Is there truly any circumstance that makes it difficult for a nun to receive the Lord Deputy’s gratitude?”

“It is only that the request arrived so suddenly, she is not prepared…”

The shrewd, composed Prioress—who seemed as if even a needle could not draw a drop of blood from her—was visibly flustered. Kraf’s eyes filled with suspicion.

“What preparation is needed for such a thing?”

“It is just that unless permitted or in special circumstances, a Holy Sister may not leave the convent…”

“Then I, as High Priest, give that permission here and now.”

“Ah…”

Christoph’s eyes blazed with anger and suspicion. Kraf, catching a sidelong glance, assumed he was embarrassed and furious at the Duchess’s hospitality being refused.

Indeed, this was a grave problem.

No matter how paramount canon law was, straining relations with the Lord over such a trifling matter could bring nothing good.

“If you would but set another day, we can make proper preparations then…”

Christoph cut her off.

“If calling her to the castle is too difficult, then summon her here, inside the cathedral itself. I will simply speak a few words of thanks before the High Priest, and that will suffice.”

It was a perfect strike.

It was improvised, but for the Prioress it was a flawless checkmate.

High Priest Kraf too judged Christoph’s proposal as the ideal compromise, respectful of both convent and Holy Sister.

To refuse even this would have been intolerable to him, for it would affront his authority.

“Then bring that Holy Sister here at once, Prioress. This is an order from me, High Priest Kraf.”

At last realizing there was no escape, the Prioress, white as a sheet, summoned a nun who had accompanied her and gave hurried instructions.

And after some time…

The office doors opened, and Lyset, nearly unconscious, staggered inside step by painful step, supported by Adelin and Iselin.