13 – 3. Let’s Head South
There is a lot to hear everywhere in the church.
Since the list of believers was practically the same as the resident list, news from nearby big and small incidents inevitably flowed into the church. Above all, there was no place faster than the church when it came to stories coming down from the papal office.
So, the children staying in the church surprisingly knew a lot about such information.
Especially someone like Risia, who was diligently doing important work among the subtitles, rather than mundane tasks like weeding or cleaning. There wasn’t much to do in the church with limited entertainment, so inevitably, conversations among the subtitles became lighter.
If there was a variable, it was the emperor who might have flattened out before fighting with the pope. Fortunately, the emperor, perhaps having some pride, acted as I had hoped.
“…Is it really fortunate?”
Is it fortunate that the empire is trying to split again and fight? And is it really fortunate for me, who thoughtlessly considered having the qualification of a saint, selfish and even faint in faith?
It was still something I didn’t know well.
So, I intended to visit the university’s saint to find out.
*****
The knight who brought me as his companion, or was it named Raven?
Ricia had done her own investigation about him. Investigation in this case was just gathering and verifying rumors around, but it was all she could do.
It wasn’t too difficult to hear stories about him.
The knight was an uncommon presence, and a knight roaming without serving a lord was even more so. Not long after Raven left for the north, you could pick up such stories in the market.
“They say the savages, thought to have returned last time, are back.”
“But didn’t the lord of that place send the soldiers elsewhere? It would be hard to defend with just an old city wall.”
“So, they sought help from those like mercenaries nearby, who are skilled and experienced. And it seems Raven is involved among them.”
“If it’s that Raven… is he the one I know?”
And this knight named Raven seemed to have made a name for himself even among such knights.
Seeing people recognizing him just by his name indicated that. Ricia had never witnessed him wielding his strength; perhaps he was a more formidable knight than she thought.
“Yeah, who else could be around here?”
“Yeah, the Plague of Volle…!”
…But his nickname was a bit strange.
As is the case with those who love stories, when someone accomplishes great feats or has their uniqueness, people often give them a nickname.
If they conquered vast territories, they might be called a Conqueror; if they possessed exceptional knowledge, a Scholar. And sometimes, they might be simply referred to by physical traits like being bald.
But according to Ricia’s knowledge, there was no nickname similar to the Plague… Hereon, she had to dig deeper herself.
After concluding the conversation with the guest, Ricia asked the bakery owner, who was about to resume his charlatanry.
“Sir.”
“Hmm? Oh, it’s Lycia. The child who said she came to the church, right?”
“Yes. Please give me one of those breads over there.”
The girl handed the coin she received as allowance from Father Pippin to the owner and received the bread.
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However, since her true interest wasn’t there, she decided to ask right away.
“By the way, about the story you mentioned earlier.”
“What story? Oh, Lavenn?”
“Yes. Could you tell me more about him?”
“Well, there’s no reason I can’t tell a guest that much.”
Although the baker’s words contained the usual exaggeration typical of market tales, after brushing them aside, the summarized information was roughly as follows.
One. He’s a wandering freelance knight who didn’t settle down, but the name of the city is attached because he spent his early years in the church of Bole.
Two. People started calling him the plague because, as he passed through battlefields, it seemed like a contagion was spreading, with folks dropping dead like flies.
Three. When people teased him about it, he got quite upset, so it stuck.
…Still, the title “plague” does sound a bit odd.
But I do understand his skills well. Now, what about his personality?
“He used to be quite rough in the past. Well, losing family at a young age, it’s not hard to understand. Now, he’s surprisingly calm, almost to the point of wondering if it was really like that.”
“Is that so?”
“Sometimes he says things that are beyond me, but aside from that, he seems like a decent guy.”
Overall, he doesn’t seem to have major issues. Bringing her to the church without overdoing it suggests a sense of responsibility and consideration. Moreover, he appeared to have enough strength to ensure safety.
Most importantly, he seemed a bit different from knights or mercenaries who look for plunder opportunities whenever they can.
When Lycia decided to follow Raven to university.
*****
And the morning they decided to leave together.
“Isn’t it fascinating?”
“…Huh?! Oh, yes. It’s fascinating.”
When Raven asked, the girl was thinking something else.
Although she expressed a simple admiration that could be expected from kids of the same age.
It might have been a somewhat arrogant thought, but Lycia’s thoughts were like this.
‘It’s worth a try.’
It was a thought that she vaguely had since the first time Sister Pippin used healing magic on her.
While magic usually required a long study to achieve proportional accomplishments, she felt like she was somehow a person who deviated from that norm in various ways.
Originally, magic was something that only scholars who dedicated over a decade to the study of theology could understand.
However, for an adult chosen by the gods, such restrictions were meaningless.
At first, she didn’t delve into it closely and let it pass, but seeing it once again in front of her, she could roughly understand how it was used.
Even if asked to explain, she couldn’t, but there was a strange feeling that she might know how to use it. Lycia arrived at the inn, preserving the memory of that time as much as possible, and lay down on the bed.
And when she was convinced that Raven had fallen into a deep sleep, she hid under the thin blanket, slightly scratching the palm of her hand with her nails.
Lycia recalled the faint white light that shone when she was healed. And silently prayed for the wound to disappear.
– Paat!
“…Wow.”
For a moment, a bright light flowed even outside the blanket and sparkled, and when it disappeared, the palm of her hand was as clean as before.
It was magic. That which she had thought could never unfold from the tips of her fingers throughout her life.
It was the moment when Lycia, driven by a curiosity to test other things just in case, made a sound.
-Creak
“…!”
“Still night?”
Perhaps because of the spilled light, Raven’s sound of waking up and rising from bed echoed. The girl held her breath as if nothing had happened. Raven, for some reason, seemed to have not sensed that she was awake and, without saying a word, left the room.
“…Phew!”
After his footsteps faded away, Lycia let out the breath she had been holding.
Fortunately, it seemed she hadn’t been caught.
But.
Did she really have to hide it?
“Should I reveal the truth as it is?”
Being a saint was not something to be ashamed of, and it might even be praiseworthy. Instead of struggling alone to hide the secret, it might be more liberating to just speak out.
Even though she leaned towards such thoughts, in the end, Lycia shook her head.
There was a experiential aversion to revealing her otherness, and if she did so, she might be sent straight to the Holy See.
She could obtain the things she wanted, receive any education she desired. However, true interest or affection towards herself, not as a saint, but as she truly was, she wouldn’t receive.
Under the dazzling aura created by the saintly position, she didn’t want even the remnants of what she hadn’t received from her own father, and something she hadn’t even wished for.
After meticulously unraveling those intricate thoughts, Lycia decided to occupy her mind with something else.
Perhaps there was a blessing from Priest Phephin. Let’s test that possibility.
First, she recalled her weapons. However, aside from Lavenn’s sword, there wasn’t much else that came to mind.
Then, after contemplating it, she cast a blessing as Priest Phephin had done before.
– Paat!
“Alright… me?”
As she prayed for stronger power and protection within her mind, a bright light erupted from her fingertips once again.
And when it subsided, there seemed to be no visible changes around.
Was it a failure, or was it a type of confirmation that was impossible to perceive? Lycia began to ponder.
“Status window.”
Outside, Lavenn’s voice could be heard.
He was continuously shouting something in a language she didn’t understand. Upon sitting up and looking at the spot where he had wielded the sword the previous day, it was gone.
It was there just a moment ago, but it seemed like he took it with him when he left the room.
“Status window!”
“Ugh, the sun hasn’t even risen yet, and he’s already going crazy!”
Lavenn continued shouting something.
In an instant, Lycia was frightened by a certain possibility that came to mind.
“…Is it because of me?”
Could it be that she unknowingly messed up his mind by using magic.
The thought was terrifying, and if it were true, the weight of guilt kept Lycia tossing and turning in her blanket until morning, unable to sleep.