From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 136

This work contains scenes of sadistic coercion and hardcore depictions of BDSM. Reader discretion is advised.

“Did you hear that story?”

“What story?”

“Well, you see…”

The feeling of spring grew more distinct. Everyone’s clothes grew lighter little by little, and spring flowers budded. The streets were more vibrant than ever, as if the new year had just begun, with an air of excitement.

In the Rosenburg domain, goods usually difficult to see were being transported in carts. These included colorful paper, large flags, awnings, and decorations for adorning stages and streets. Children ran, following the brightly fluttering awnings.

Preparations for the seasonal festival, held to coincide with the blooming season, were beginning.

“No way.”

“But, you know…”

From the busiest central thoroughfare, the murmurs of people quietly spread throughout this gray domain, which became its most vibrant time of the year.

“Shh, don’t say anything that could cause big trouble.”

“But they say someone saw it.”

“No way. But…”

In the midst of exchanging goods and coins, at the laundry place, wherever people gathered, they invariably whispered. Even as they looked around to see if anyone was listening, they didn’t stop spreading this astonishing gossip.

“What are you talking about?”

Old man Robinson, walking down the street, poked his head into the group of whispering people.

“Ah, old man.”

“Uh, well—”

“Ah, old man! Haven’t you heard the story?”

A young chimney sweep abruptly asked Robinson. Covered in black soot, only his eyes, gleaming with curiosity, were excessively white.

“Our Lord calls a maid to his bedchamber every night—”

At the intemperate outburst of curiosity, old man Robinson’s eyes bulged. The people who had been enthusiastically spreading the gossip immediately cleared their throats dryly and fell silent under the old man’s sharp gaze.

“Who would say such nonsense!”

The old man huffed, swinging the cane in his hand. Thwack, thwack, the soot-covered young man shrieked as he was struck, writhing as if dying.

“Ah, ow, owie!”

“You damned wretch! How dare you speak of our Lord like that, you cursed scoundrel!”

“Everyone’s talking about it, old man, you’re the only one who doesn’t know!”

Robinson, a more ardent follower of the Lord than anyone, lowered his cane. He was hale enough to walk perfectly well without a cane in the first place.

“Nonsense. There’s nothing about our Lord I don’t know! Didn’t everyone see just recently? The Lord, the Lord spoke to me! From the time the Lord rebuilt this place, he’s asked me about everything in the village and consulted with me.”

“They say the darkest place is under the candlestick, old man.”

“Who on earth is spreading such awful rumors?”

“They say someone saw it.”

“Well, who is it then?”

Everyone ahem-ed, clearing their throats dryly, and averted their gaze. Even more emboldened by their awkward reaction, Robinson pontificated in a louder voice.

“Our Lord is one who sits beside God. I clearly saw him take a vow of purity, and the great God responded.”

“Indeed.”

The effect of the vow dedicated to God, on the honor of a Holy Knight, was strong. If he had broken the vow, a terrible curse would surely have fallen upon Ragnar himself or the domain.

But today, the domain was peaceful, and all manner of heretical things knelt before Ragnar’s great divine power. The castle walls, blessed by Ragnar’s grace, were a solid fortress in themselves.