6 – 2. I Want to Study
In fact, Lycia had two things she was hiding.
One was that her intention in studying was not to go to university.
It was just a means, not the end.
And the two, in fact, the girl was not the only survivor of the village.
No one survived in the ruins that day.
*****
From a young age, Licia was bright.
But that shining talent was mainly unused, except for learning how to read and write. Even if it wasn’t to assist her father, who worked as a scribe, she would have never had a use for it in her lifetime.
One day, when the girl had studied alone and finally reached the day when she could fluently read a book.
Her father didn’t teach her to read, but perhaps he would pat her on the head if she learned on her own to help him with his work.
Like children of her age seeking praise, Licia entered the room where her father was working and said,
“Father! I finished reading the book! Did I do well?”
“You…”
“Father?”
“…No, it’s fine. You’ve helped enough, go into the room.”
And when the girl turned away disappointed, not receiving the reaction she anticipated, and closed the door with a sulky expression.
“…Whose child are you? You really take after them.”
Hearing the faint words coming from beyond the door, she could immediately realize with her sharp mind.
She was not a welcomed existence in this household.
Her father had another sibling. According to what the girl had heard, he seemed to have been a smart person once, highly anticipated in the surroundings.
Until one day, he took all the family’s money and left the house.
Only then did Licia understand the sharp glares from her mother and the mocking looks from her brother.
Even her own unique hair and eye colors, which she used to think were bright and pretty, even those. There was a time when she liked them. But not anymore.
Someone might say it’s a waste to taint that talent, but the girl, above all else, guarded against anything that seemed to protrude more than necessary from that point onward.
Let’s improve the relationship quietly without drawing attention. Eventually, they too will open their hearts. Lycia chose to close one eye among the outsiders.
But the world was not such a peaceful place as to fulfill even such hopes.
People tend to forget that others can be hurt just like themselves.
After the horrifying sounds, which she thought she would never hear in her lifetime, subsided, there was no intact house left.
Those who trampled the village meticulously didn’t stop there; they seemed to want to erase everything, even setting fire to it all. The fire that lasted for two days consumed everything that remained.
And finally, after two days, the girl rose from the ashes of the church, crackling.
She had a rough idea of what had happened.
Herself hiding in a secluded corner of the church, the sound of clashing blades, screams resembling tearing, and then silence.
The savage who finally found her hiding and the church collapsing the moment she gave up hiding.
She thought she was dead.
Rycia, breathing heavily, suddenly realized that there was not a single injury on her body.
It was so alien. Beyond the category of strangeness she had imagined.
For a young girl to collapse, and under the blazing flames, survive without a scratch beneath the collapsing building—it was almost impossible, no, it was simply impossible.
And she knew what to call this seemingly impossible thing.
“… Miracle.”
Something only saints and holy maidens chosen by God could bring about, the most precious thing in the church.
More commonly known as the power existing for the salvation of believers and as the foot of unwavering faith.
There was a nun who performed miracles, bringing out bread endlessly from the church’s embrace to share with the hungry.
There was a warrior who stood alone against the armies of heretics, securing victory. There was also an adult who drove away the plague, bringing peace, and another who safely rescued everyone from the scene of an earthquake.
So, there was likely at least one miracle returning from death.
Simultaneously, she could intuitively understand.
If she learned magic, it was clear she could reach a higher realm, just like the saints and holy women before her.
But why should she, who could assert at least a distance from faith, experience such a thing?
And surviving alone in the ruined village, where on earth was salvation to be found?
She looked around. Nothing remained in proper form.
Even after shouting multiple times to see if anyone else was around, there was no response. It was evident she was the only one left. Whether it could be said she survived by resurrecting or not was uncertain.
Soon, rain started to fall. The faint embers even extinguished, emitting a pungent smoke.
Lycia sat in front of what used to be her home, waiting endlessly.
While walking from the church to her house, she got scratched by protruding pieces of wood in the ruins, but the slight pain didn’t bother her much.
The humans she considered as her family weren’t particularly good by the standards of this era.
… But still, she wanted to be loved. Not necessarily applause for her outstanding presence, but at least some attention.
That’s why she quietly waited.
She didn’t know what she was waiting for.
Thieves in the nearby forest, perhaps merchants from another village passing through, or maybe just waiting for death.
But would she resurrect even if she starved to death?
She wasn’t sure. But it didn’t seem particularly important. Somehow, she felt convinced that if she didn’t wish for it herself, she would die just like that.
It might have been a story that ended that way.
“Hey, can you hear that?”
The squelching sound of muddy footsteps stopped behind her. Amidst the rough rain, an unfamiliar voice cut through.
It was a voice she had never heard in the village before. Could it be someone from elsewhere?
Finally, Lyssia turned her head slowly.
Judging by the unfamiliar armor and the silence in his words, he seemed to be a knight.
“Shall I take you to the nearby city?”
As her gaze lifted a little, his face came into view.
A mixture of instinctive longing for a meaningful life, fear suppressed by maturity towards death, and a handful of undying hope.
All sorts of emotions twisted into a distorted expression, vividly reflected in the knight’s eyes as he spoke to her.
Whatever the reason for fearing loneliness and rejection.
In the end, she herself was not just a saint, but a human being longing for warmth, before anything else.
“…Ah.”
In that moment, the girl realized.
She had been waiting for salvation, for a miracle to come.
The girl nodded softly.
*****
Introducing himself as Lavenn, the knight left himself behind at the nearby church, just as he had said.
Was he abandoned again? No, at least it must have been his own sense of righteousness. It was inevitable for the life of a wandering knight.
On the first day at the church, he was occupied with curious children, leaving him no time for himself until he lay in bed in the evening.
…Only then did doubts arise.
The church spoke of the significance of adults and miracles in the salvation of others.
But can miracles truly be called miracles if they fail to save even oneself? And above all, why should I be the subject of that statement?
More faithful than I am, filled with something profound, there surely must be people in positions capable of helping many.
I’ve never wished for miracles. I just wanted someone to love me and to feel that warmth.
What is salvation, why do miracles happen, and why must I be the subject of it all?
If it is the destiny of a saint to save others, then who will save the saint left alone in the world?
From Noble mtl dot com
Curious about it, I thought maybe I could find the answer by directly asking a university that claims to have another saint or by delving into that damn theology.
So, just a bit, I decided to reveal my otherness.
As the already accomplished magician Pippin Priest might notice, I chose someone else instead.
Claiming to be the sole survivor of a village where no one else survived, she touched upon the sympathy stirred by that fact.
Wrapping it up with enthusiasm for her studies, the saint gently smiled and said,
“So, I’ve been thinking, I want to go to university to learn more.”
If things go as she’s contemplating, he will eventually have to go to the Papal See.
So, isn’t it a good idea for him to sneakily join her on that path?
The promise was made, so when he returns, he’ll go to university, and when he finally gets the answer he desires, at that time.
‘… I don’t know.’
But miracles that are of no help even to oneself probably don’t need to exist on this land, anyway. It doesn’t matter how it turns out.
*****
It seemed like Lycia had a lot on her mind.
Having gone through a lot, it’s understandable. Moreover, if she’s going to express that through her enthusiasm for studying, it might not be a dangerous hobby but rather something recommended.
Of course, money would be necessary.
But since she said she won’t ask for it, it should be fine.
Moreover, well, if there weren’t any lucrative opportunities around, I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay in Bole, a place similar to my hometown, at least for a while, given that I spent my childhood there.
The true hometown of my current life was nothing more than a vague memory called a spawn point. What do I care about a hometown that drove me away?
So, I even promised to return after the Northern Expedition was over.
Nothing eventful happened afterward. Before departing, I made sure all preparations were perfect and went to find my horse one last time.
Referring to the memories of the present era, I had given him the name Sanchu, borrowed from a literary name in the literature. However, the name was somewhat obscure since both I and others often called him by different titles.
Lately, the thought that Sanchu was just a name arbitrarily decided by the official system has been growing stronger.
Even the stable boy realized that name not long ago.
“Stop eating, you pig….”
“I’ve come to find my horse.”
The stable boy, upon hearing that, changed his expression and promptly responded to Sanchu before my thoughts could change.
It was evident that he had lived more comfortably than the owner. Whether he still remembered the stolen food or not, Sanchu cried sadly, persistently.
Fortunately, there seemed to be no significant problem with his movement. On the contrary, as I mounted, his back seemed softer, improving the riding comfort.
Now that there were no issues, it was time to depart.
When leaving the city gate, I glanced back at the gazes I felt.
Licia was standing near the gate, waving slightly. I responded by shaking my hand once.
The girl stood there until she became a dot and disappeared.