Chapter 9: Manifestation of the Spirits
When Lute took her to an audience with the king, Sylphia involuntarily screamed, even though she knew it was rude to do so.
It was the same black haze he had seen in the village he had visited earlier that morning.
The same thing was sticking to the King’s office and even to the King himself as if it had been smeared with black ink.
Lute did not seem to see the black haze after all, and stepped forward to protect Sylphia, but he was puzzled, not knowing what had startled Sylphia.
“What’s wrong, Sylphia?”
“It’s black, there’s a haze…”
“Black? Was that what you said in the field?”
Lute squinted at Sylphia, who nodded, but there was nothing unusual in the room from his point of view.
But Sylphia shivers and trembles, frightened by the eerie presence.
Seeing this, Lute understood.
With the help of the spirits, she might be able to blow away the haze again.
In that case, Sylphia is afraid that the king and Lute will be harmed.
But of course, the king does not sense the tension.
Rather, Lute’s attitude of concern for Sylphia seemed to confirm the lies infused with Antonio.
“What are you talking about? Are you trying to mislead the nation as Antonio said, you false saint?!”
“Father! Sylphia is the true—”
What are you doing, get this girl!”
The soldiers rush to obey the king’s order.
Lute hides Sylphia behind his back and stands in front of the soldiers.
“Lute-sama, please step down!”
The soldiers’ swords can be seen through the obstructed view.
(I want to protect Lute-sama!)
At that moment, Sylphia’s heart cried out.
As if in response to the cry of Sylphia’s heart, a gust of wind blew through the room.
As if the wind itself were a shield, it pushes the soldiers toward the door and throws them out.
The door slams shut with a loud BANG!
“It’s okay, Sylphia, they’re not hurt.”
Just as Lute said, from the other side of the door, “What’s going on?!” “What happened!” but no one seems to have been hurt.
More importantly, a strange scene was unfolding inside the room.
The wind that had driven the soldiers away was swirling in place, and the air was gradually glowing.
From the center of the wind, a red-haired boy and a blue-haired girl appeared.
Both of them could be described as children in appearance, but they are only as tall as you can hold them in your hands.
Moreover, they were floating in the air.
They were clearly not human.
[You’ve finally did it.]
Valtis sees Sylphia and immediately jumps into the air and into her arms.
Sylphia breathes a sigh of relief as she stretches out her hand to catch him.
Before long, the black haze that had surrounded them is gone, blown away when Valtis and Titia appear.
[Thanks to Sylphia, more people are praying for us]
[It’s been a while since the last time I had a shabba? air]
[Valtis, watch your language.]
The same boisterous Valtis and calm Titia that she had met before.
Sylphia smiles as she hears their voices once again.
Titia folded her arms and looked around.
Lute and the king’s eyes are on them.
They can finally see the spirits.
[Not a very pleasant situation, I see.]
“No way… Is it really a spirit?”
Sylphia is the Saint we acknowledge.]
[Sylphia makes our power stronger.
We can also bring blessings to this land.]
The king muttered in dismay, and Valtis and Titia both tilted their heads.
[Who is that?]
[I don’t know.]
At the words of the spirits, the king nodded his head.
He realized that no matter how hard he tried, Marianne could never become Saint.
Sylphia used the power of the spirits to make the roses grow and, according to Lute’s report, revive the dying fields.
The hearts of the people are sure to turn to Sylphia.
And if they were to turn against Sylphia, the royal family would lose the support of the people.
The king’s prediction was correct.
However, the king still underestimated Sylphia.
The story of the rose had already spread among the residents of the Royal Capital, and Sylphia had followers among the merchants, and the story of Sylphia’s saving of the fields was gradually passed on by the villagers to the neighboring countryside.
The “miracle of the saints” spread so quickly thanks to the work of Sylphia, who was present every day with the worshipers in the temple and prayed for them herself.
The king rose from his chair and went over to Sylphia.
He takes Sylphia’s hand and kneels down.
“Your Majesty, what are you…!”
The king, his aged face wrinkled, let out a groans of anguish.
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