The Banished Black Swordsman Wants a Peaceful Life with the White Saint in the Frontier ~Huh? You Want Him to Come Back with the Saint? It’s Already Too Late~ - 72

Chapter 72: The Saint’s Friend

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Lloyd carried the plates and bowls he had received in the kitchen to the table one by one.

Glossy colors spread across the wooden tabletop in quick succession. Beautifully seared herb chicken; a warm salad of root vegetables and mixed grains; a pie filled with forest mushrooms; white cheese pressed with dried fruit and walnuts; a clear soup floating with wild herbs; and on a large platter, fragrant rice pilaf.

In addition, a basket was piled high with freshly baked small round rolls, while a plate farther back held thinly sliced smoked meat and pickles. There was a crock of honey butter and even a jar of mountain-grape compote. Perhaps the heat from the stone oven still lingered, because the rims of the dishes felt warm to the touch.

Each time he finished carrying something, the empty spaces on the table rapidly disappeared, leaving less and less room for the seated guests to rest their hands. Incidentally, there was still food left in the kitchen. He must have used nearly all of the ingredients they had bought yesterday.

“Th-this is amazing!”

Fran’s eyes went wide as she clasped both hands in front of her chest. Her eyes sparkled.

“This is quite something indeed…”

Elena, too, searched for words as she looked over the spread of dishes. It was a type of encirclement she had never seen on the battlefield. The aromas and rising steam surged forward like an invisible army.

“But…”

“Can we really finish all of this?”

The two exchanged glances and murmured at the same time. It was a realistic concern. Lloyd could only agree, and a wry smile slipped out before he knew it.

“Even for four people, this is a bit much.”

“I-I’m sorry… I got a little too fired up. P-please don’t force yourselves to finish it all, all right? Anything that keeps well, Lloyd and I will take care of later.”

Lusha clasped her fingers together nervously in front of her chest, her brows drooping awkwardly. She must have realized it once everything was laid out. There was easily enough for six people—no, maybe seven. And on top of that, there were still plenty of refills left simmering in pots in the kitchen. It was far more than they could possibly eat. Having no shortage of food was nice, but even so, there were limits to one’s stomach.

“N-no, not at all! Since Saint-sama made this for us, we’ll absolutely eat everything!”

Fran straightened her back in a panic and declared it loudly, as if swearing an oath. It was clear she appreciated the thought, but she was so tense that her words were slightly overdoing it. Perhaps because she noticed that, Lusha’s expression didn’t brighten. Rather than joy, she looked disappointed… No. She looked almost sad. She seemed a little dejected.

Well, I kind of get what she wants to say.

When you spent every day together, you naturally came to understand what someone was thinking. She had been worrying ever since they stood side by side in the kitchen… No, ever since Fran had entered the house.

At that moment, Lusha glanced at him. Her eyes asked if it was all right to say it. Lloyd nodded subtly. It was better to say it outright. Fran wouldn’t get angry over something like this. If anything, she’d probably be happy. A faint look of relief crossed Lusha’s face. She returned a small smile to Lloyd, then turned to face Fran straight on.

Her expression grew solemn. The strings of her housework apron swayed gently in front of her chest.

“…Fran. Before we eat, there’s something I’d like to talk about.”

“Yes, what is it!? Please tell me anything, Saint-sama!”

Her back snapped straight up reflexively, her voice pitching higher. A trained response. Her body remembered the formalities before her mind did. He had expected as much, but the clergy really did seem to be a strictly hierarchical world.

“As I mentioned yesterday, I am no longer a Saint. So, um… would you mind not calling me ‘Saint-sama’? I don’t want you to be so formal with me.”

“Eh? But…”

Fran’s eyes wavered with confusion. Habits didn’t disappear overnight. For Fran, Lusha had held a position on par with the Pope himself, so a request like that was bound to be troubling. In response, Lusha slowly chose her words.

“After I was appointed Saint, even people I’d known for a long time began calling me ‘Saint-sama.’ Everyone became so formal, just like you, Fran. Of course, there were ranks within the church, so maybe it couldn’t be helped. But… Somehow, that made me feel very lonely.”

Lusha smiled a little sadly and tilted her head. If people she had known for years suddenly started treating her that way, it must have felt as though everyone had turned into strangers. Perhaps her life as a ‘Saint’ had been lonelier than anyone imagined.

Looking straight at Fran, she made her request.

“If possible, I’d like you to treat me the same way you treat Lloyd… But is that too difficult?”

The air around the table trembled ever so slightly. Fran hesitated, her gaze darting to Elena as if seeking help, then to Lloyd. Lusha herself also seemed embarrassed, her phrasing roundabout. Like this, her true feelings might not come across. It seemed best to give her a little push. Lloyd rephrased her words in a clearer way.

“Lusha wants to be friends with you two. The reason she went all out cooking like this is because she really wanted to treat you.”

“Eh!?”

Fran’s startled face snapped toward Lusha. Lusha’s cheeks flushed red, and she hurriedly looked down. Then a sharp glare shot his way.

“Y-you shouldn’t say it like that. It’s embarrassing.”

“But if you don’t spell it out, it probably won’t get through. Church teachings are burned into her.”

At Lloyd’s joking remark, Elena nodded in agreement.

“So that’s what it was…”

Lusha let out a small breath as if she understood, then turned back to the two with a gentle smile.

“It’s pretty embarrassing to say this directly, but… Fran, and Elena too. If you don’t mind, would you be friends with me?”

The moment she finished speaking, the atmosphere in the room seemed to soften by a degree. The earnest worry of the “White Saint”—or rather, not of a Saint, but of a young maiden. She was naturally warm and should have been someone people felt close to, yet her title had created distance instead. Come to think of it, the past few years may have been quite lonely for her.

“Lusha-sama… Yes.”

Fran swallowed once. As she nodded, she seemed to realize she’d used honorific speech, letting out a small “Ah,” and corrected herself.

“I mean… Um. Yeah, I get it. Is ‘Lusha’ okay?”

“Yes!”

Lusha’s shy smile spread silently across her face. Seeing that smile, Fran’s cheeks turned pink.

“Ugh… Calling the Saint by her name… If anyone from the church heard, I’d get the ultimate punishment…”

Fran covered her face with both hands and peeked through her fingers to gauge their reactions. Then, gentle laughter filled the table. The tension dissolved, and the sound of people leaning back against their chairs overlapped almost at once.

“Elena, how about you?”

“Of course. There’s no reason to refuse. If someone like me is all right, then it’s a pleasure to be friends with you.”

Elena smiled and lightly extended her right hand. Lusha nodded eagerly and shook it.

“Elena, it’s a pleasure!”

Her voice was much brighter than before. Watching her like that, Lloyd found himself smiling as well. He knew better than anyone that both Elena and Fran were good people. They would surely get along well with Lusha.

“I’m sorry for letting the conversation run so long. Let’s eat before it gets cold!”

Lusha straightened her posture and clasped her hands in front of her chest. Even now that she had left the clergy, her movements were dignified and beautiful. But this prayer was no longer for a title. It was for the meal before them and for her faith. Lloyd, Elena, and Fran followed her lead. The air between their palms slowly warmed at their fingertips. The four of them synchronized their breath and raised their voices together.

“…We give thanks for today’s blessings. May Lady Leafia guide us.”

The words settled quietly, and a wisp of steam trembled. The air in the house felt a little clearer in the lingering echo of the prayer. The first dish was soup, wrapped in the aroma of herbs. Lusha deftly served it, handing out smiles along with the steam.

Fran laughed, sticking out her tongue and saying, “Hot,” while Elena narrowed her eyes, savoring it as if tracing the layers of flavor in the broth. Lloyd watched them from the corner of his eye as he brought his spoon to his mouth. Lusha, meanwhile, watched everyone’s reactions intently, like a nervous child.

Thus began the dinner party welcoming the first guests into their home.

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