The nun bound beneath the tree was simply too stunning.
Faust only glanced at her once, and his eyes lit up despite himself.
Even the Prince of Aurum, with his dissolute reputation and countless women behind him, couldn't help but give a mental thumbs up and murmur his admiration.
Now that was a proper knockout.
Despite wearing the devout robes of a nun, her scandalously voluptuous figure and bearing turned all that piety into blasphemy. One might almost say her body itself was a kind of sin.
The golden-brown-haired beauty called out the moment she saw Faust, unable to contain herself:
"Kind sir, please, save this poor soul!"
Faust didn't answer. Instead, he rode his horse forward to survey the surroundings first.
No traps, no ambush. Aside from that one large tree, the woods around were sparse, the view open.
The nun trapped by the vines showed nothing unusual either. Faust could sense no mystical trace on her, but the more ordinary she seemed, the more suspicious His Highness became.
This was the border forest of the Kingdom of Wintertide. Aside from smugglers like himself, no one else should rightfully be here. And a nun, no matter which Fae faith she belonged to, could have entered Wintertide through proper, legitimate channels.
After all, any faith organized around worship of the Fae was no small thing, each one holding the authority to travel freely between kingdoms.
"Mephisto, what do you make of this?"
Whenever Faust was uncertain, he turned to his contracted Fae for counsel. That was what a seasoned old hand was for: making up for his own lack of experience.
[Ohh... so that's how it is. Heh heh heh.]
The Fae didn't answer, only let out a wicked chuckle, a sound Faust knew all too well. Whenever Mephisto wanted to tease him, that was exactly how he laughed.
Still, in a way, that answered his question well enough.
Faust urged his horse forward and asked:
"Sister, what trouble has befallen you?"
The nun, looking as though she'd stepped straight out of some top-shelf eroge's character art, lifted her lovely face and spoke in a plaintive, melodious voice:
"My lord, as you can see, I am a pilgrim. Passing through here, I wished to perform an act of ascetic practice: I hung myself upside down from this tree. But afterward, I found I couldn't undo these vines."
Ascetic practice, hm. Faust was actually quite familiar with that.
In this fairy-tale world, there was no such thing as a stage drama where one endured a hundred years of hardship, begged for a blessing, and then went and beat up the Emperor of Heaven.
But if your Path allowed for ascetic practice, it really could earn you experience.
Instructor Mistoria's Path, [White Court Martial Saint], was a classic example of a Path built around ascetic cultivation.
And Paths in the "cultivator" category were indeed tied to such practices, the most common being various forms of self-denial and self-flagellation.
Pilgrims traveled far and wide, visiting holy sites across the world, and when the mood struck, indulging in a bit of ascetic role-play. It was a perfectly normal thing.
"Kind sir! Kind sir! Please help me!"
The nun kept calling out, her pitiable voice enough to stir the protective instincts of any man.
Faust thought it over for a moment, then dismounted, drew his longsword, and cut through the thick vines.
"Thank you, my lord! If you hadn't stepped in to help, I don't know what might have happened to me..."
Still shaken, the nun sobbed softly, her eyes brimming with tears as she said:
"Also, could you please help me find my bag? It should have fallen somewhere nearby."
At her words, Faust circled the great tree, and sure enough, found a bulging sack behind it.
He opened it to find it packed with dazzling gold and jewels, their brilliance almost blinding.
Even as a prince of a kingdom, Faust had rarely seen such a wealth of fine precious metals.
Well now, whatever else was true, the ascetic practice of [Poverty] was clearly not one this woman would ever undertake.
Honestly, this was starting to feel a bit too deliberate.
Even without Mephisto's sidelong hints, by this point Faust could tell something was off.
The Prince of Aurum smiled faintly and carried the sack back with him.
The nun sat sideways beneath the tree, rubbing her ankle. Her fair, jade-like feet bore vivid crimson scratches from the thorns.
Seeing this, Faust asked:
"Ascetic, can you still walk?"
The nun's slightly curled lashes fluttered as she clasped her hands together, pleading with Faust:
"I'm afraid not. I have no strength left at all. Kind traveler, would you carry me a little further on your back? I can't ride the horse, it would be far too jarring."
The Prince of Aurum laughed. "That's nothing. Lending a hand to a pilgrim is a traveler's principle. Climb on!"
Faust crouched down so the nun could climb onto his back.
Though her waist was slender, the parts that ought to have weight certainly did not disappoint, and so she wasn't exactly light.
And yet, even with such close contact, Faust's mind held not a trace of impure thought, his footing remaining steady.
The nun's golden-brown hair hung down, brushing lightly against the prince's cheek now and then, her soft, sweet voice sounding close to his ear:
"Thank you again for saving my life. I truly don't know how I could repay you..."
Faust smiled warmly. "No repayment needed. It's only what I ought to do."
After a while longer, the nun bit at her fingernail. "Actually... there's an ascetic practice I've long wanted to undertake, but I've never found the chance. My lord, would you be willing to help me?"
"What sort of ascetic practice?"
The nun breathed out a fragrant breath:
"The Vow of [Devotion]. That is, to give up all freedom and serve one's master with total loyalty. Until now, I could never find a suitable person for it.
But you, my lord, you saved my life, and there's no doubt you can be trusted. I hope you'll accept my request."
"Just think of it as doing me a favor. That sack of jewels can be your payment. For me to advance further on the path of asceticism, this really matters a great deal!"
For a beauty like this to offer herself up as a servant, even willing to pay out of her own pocket to sweeten the deal, there probably wasn't a man alive who wouldn't be tempted.
But Faust answered without hesitation. "I'm sorry, but I must decline. In my heart, there was only the wish to help you, nothing more. I would never seek to profit from an act of kindness!"
"Tch..."
Whether it was his imagination or not, Faust thought he heard a click of the tongue.
For the rest of the way, the nun kept up her chatter, but no matter what she said, no matter what temptation she offered, Faust deflected every single one. Every last one.
In words, he refused it all; in action, he was like a statue, never once overstepping propriety, never once letting his hands wander.
Anyone who hadn't read the earlier chapters might have mistaken Faust for some paragon of virtue, utterly unmoved no matter who sat in his lap.
Just as Faust was about to carry the nun out of the forest, he suddenly felt his back grow light. The nun's weight vanished without a trace in an instant.
What followed was a cold, biting curse:
"Enough! Are you even a man?! I've never seen anyone hold out this long!"
It was at that moment that Mephisto finally spoke up, laughing:
[Heh. She still loves setting these little entrapment traps.]
Faust: "She is?"
[The Fairy of the Lake, The Blue Lady.]