The tea had gone cold. He had no desire to drink. He didn't touch the refreshments either.
Enkrid sank into thought. Krais had once said Enkrid was also exceptional when it came to using his head.
“Huh?”
Sitting across from him on an old but soft sofa, with a simple, unadorned wooden table between them, Deutsch Pullman blinked vacantly before belatedly asking. He was wondering what this was all about. Why ask the kidnapper's motive here?
That must have been his question.
“If you had a saintess, could you make potions or something like that?”
Enkrid asked.
Deutsch blinked, then repeated back.
“…Are you asking me?”
“Yeah.”
Why was he asking this?
“No.” Despite his confusion, Deutsch answered faithfully.
“Is there anyone who could do such a thing?”
“…Would there be?”
Common sense said otherwise. No one knew the method for making the church's potions. Only that it certainly wasn't alchemy.
Not everyone who could wield divine power could become a saintess or saint either. This was Enkrid dragging up what he'd heard from Audin's past and thinking hard from the kidnapper's perspective. Was he some bastard who dreamed of making potions by kidnapping a saintess?
If so, wouldn't studying alchemy be a better idea? Or maybe he had some terminal illness and wanted to be healed? Even if that were the case, none of this made sense.