Caspond hadn't expected his sister to be waiting for him here.
"What is it, Calca?"
"Brother, I have a favor to ask."
Calca held her hands behind her back and leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on a soft, delicate quality that made it impossible not to feel a surge of protective affection. Caspond had seen this act many times before—it was the face his sister made only when she wanted something. Moreover, it was for the kind of thing she was absolutely determined to see through; even if he refused to help with the primary task, she'd still find a way to extract some other form of assistance from him.
"Speak then. If it is within my power."
"Well, you know the sitting room next to my bedroom? I want to set up a place to pray to the Wind God inside it, so I can offer my devotions every morning and evening."
As she spoke, Calca clasped her hands together, her expression becoming one of profound piety.
The true intent behind this request was clear: she wanted to use the statue as a focal point to "fleece" more gifts from Brilliant Angel Cat-Meow. While she could technically do this at the royal family's private chapel—the place where she had first awakened—it was a bit too far from her bedroom. It was a several-minute walk, and more importantly, it was a communal space shared by the entire royal family. While she was praying, any other royal could wander in as they pleased.
Before meeting her father, Calca had specifically asked the nuns about her condition during the ritual. She had been glowing and completely unresponsive to High Priestess Mariana's calls. If someone with ill intentions discovered her in such a vulnerable state, she would be no different from a lamb to the slaughter. She needed a private, personal sanctuary.
Her bedroom would have been the best choice; unless she rang the bell for a maid, no one would dare enter. However, the thought of sleeping in a room with a life-sized plaster statue gave her the chills. Not only did it remind her of the "Weeping Angels" from a certain doctor who travels in a blue phone booth, but after meeting the actual Brilliant Angel Cat-Meow, she could no longer view the Wind God—or his statue—as a mere inanimate object.
What if—and it was a big "if"—the statue suddenly came to life one day and watched her? It was better to pick a different spot. She settled on the small guest sitting room adjacent to her bedroom. Though meant for guests, Calca really only used it to host her siblings; no one else would bother visiting a minor princess. Might as well put it to use.
To a transmigrator like Calca, putting an altar or a statue in a living area was a standard trope. But to Caspond, the idea was rather novel.
"Setting up a statue for prayer in a sitting room?" Caspond looked at his sister in surprise. He had never heard of such a practice.
The nobles of the Holy Kingdom—even the most destitute among them—would clear out a dedicated room in their manor to serve as a private chapel. For those with castles, it went without saying. Placing a divine statue directly in a sitting room felt like a strange, makeshift solution born of desperation. Does she think I'll find it too much trouble to give her a proper room?
Caspond couldn't help but chuckle. He said generously, "No, there's no need for that. Isn't there a maid's room next to your bedroom? I'll have someone clear it out; it should be ready by tonight. Keep the sitting room for the tea parties you girls have. If you put a statue of the Wind God in there, the other young ladies probably wouldn't dare open their mouths."
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My : https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
I'm not the Queen Greatsword. (41 Chapters, Ongoing)
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Caspond teased her, but his words carried a hidden piece of advice. For people in their position, socializing was a critical duty. The news of Calca being "God-Blessed" would spread sooner or later, and whether people believed it or not, visitors would come. With them would come negotiations and discussions. Having a divine statue in a reception room was a bit too... formal.
Overly formal settings were ill-suited for discussing private or weightier matters. This was why, whenever the Holy Kingdom planned a counter-offensive against the demi-humans of the Abelion Hills, the King usually settled things with his generals in a sitting room or study rather than convening the entire nobility in a grand hall—which would only lead to endless, unproductive bickering. More importantly, very few nobles were truly "clean," yet all of them cared about appearances. Placing a statue in the room would be seen as a silent judgment or a rejection of their presence. Eventually, she would find herself socially isolated. A private sitting room was a necessity.
Calca didn't fully grasp Caspond's underlying logic; despite her past-life experience, she hadn't yet adjusted to the nuances of this environment. Regardless, the result was what she wanted.
"Thank you, Brother!" Calca thanked him excitedly. However, her nature compelled her to think of the maid who was being displaced. "But Brother, that maid..."
Calca trailed off, but her meaning was clear. Caspond shook his head with feigned helplessness, though he felt a swell of pride. Why was he so willing to help his sister? It was because of this very nature—kind, intelligent, and considerate of others. Who wouldn't love a sister like that?
"That room is actually for the maids on the night shift to rest. There are plenty of such rooms in the palace, so don't worry. Though, if you ring your bell at night and the maid takes a little longer to arrive, don't come crying to me."
Calca tilted her head. What does that matter? She had waited for late food deliveries in her past life; she wasn't going to complain about a slight delay in free service. Seeing her lack of concern, Caspond shook his head and reached out to ruffle her hair, breaking her "saintly" composure. The two of them played around for a moment.
Just as Caspond was about to leave, the mention of the maid sparked a thought. If Calca prayed to the god, would she fall into that same trance she had this morning? Recalling how Mariana couldn't wake her, a look of seriousness crossed Caspond's face.
This was something he needed to tell their father. Furthermore... Caspond stopped ruffling Calca's head and knelt down to look her in the eye.
"Calca, would you like a personal guard? A knight dedicated solely to your protection?"
"Eh?" Calca was stunned. She hadn't expected Caspond's train of thought to jump so far.
"Yes! I want one! But... I get to choose them myself!" Calca said firmly.
That night, the room formerly used by the maids had been cleared out and repurposed into a brand-new, private chapel. Unlike the royal family's chapel, this one contained only a single statue—the Wind God. There were no priests, no nuns. There was only a golden-haired girl, kneeling on the floor with her hands clasped.
Calca adjusted her breathing, meditated, and once again immersed herself in the connection with the world. Quietly, within the room lit by many candles yet still draped in shadows, a distinct and otherworldly light began to shimmer.