Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Who the Hell is Yan (3)
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The acolyte was flustered.
The matter was too great for a mere acolyte to handle.
The pressure from the Freelance Knight's Guild, which rarely interfered in the Order's affairs, was burdensome enough, but the Imperial Family's blatant demand was even more so.
“Yan?”
The name mentioned in both letters.
Just who was this person, to make the typically inert Freelance Knight's Guild and the Imperial Family move at the same time?
“Greetings!”
Just then, someone visited the monastery.
It wasn't the inquisitor from the Grand Monastery the acolyte had been waiting for.
Nor was it a representative from the Freelance Knight's Guild or the Imperial Family.
“……!”
The acolyte's eyes widened at the sight of the visitor.
A legendary figure who had transformed a minor, unremarkable family into a prominent one overnight.
A genius of a man who had reached the rank of a 7-Star Knight in his mid-thirties.
“Knight of the Raging Wind, what brings you here…?”
It was the Knight of the Raging Wind.
“I heard there's a child here who's set to enter our Cradle.”
He was also the current Director of the Cradle.
“You mean to say the Knight of the Raging Wind came here in person for a single student?”
“I happen to have a great interest in that child.”
The acolyte couldn't help but ask.
Who in the world was this child named Yan, and why was everyone making such a fuss?
“If I knew that, I wouldn't have come all this way.”
The Knight of the Raging Wind said he had come to find that out for himself and requested a meeting with the child.
“Not a meeting, but rather, ahead of his admission… yes, let's call it a preliminary interview.”
The Knight of the Raging Wind repeated the words "preliminary interview" several times, as if he had found some grand justification.
He even added unsolicited comments, like how the Vice Director wouldn't nag him later if he did this much.
The acolyte felt a wave of dizziness.
It felt as though the situation was spiraling further out of control.
To a degree that was impossible for a mere acolyte like him to handle.
He bit his lip gently.
In times like these, sticking to the rules was the only way to avoid trouble later.
“Those who have entered the Penitence Cell are forbidden from contacting outsiders.”
“Even when I've come all this way to ask you myself? I'm the Knight of the Raging Wind. The Director of the Cradle.”
“……There are no exceptions.”
“Then how about we just talk from outside the door of this Penitence Cell or whatever it is?”
“Contact does not simply refer to seeing their face or touching them.”
As a rule, the Order forbade even conversation with sinners in the Penitence Cell.
Even the junior acolytes of the monastery who relayed the child's requests avoided direct conversation as much as possible.
“Hmph. Then it can't be helped.”
Faced with the acolyte's firm stance, the Knight of the Raging Wind finally declared he would give up.
“Ah, right. Until he fails the entrance exam, that child is a prospective student of the Cradle. I hope you'll keep that in mind.”
It was a roundabout way of warning that the Cradle might intervene if anything happened to the child.
“The Iron Cross Order has not fallen so low as to harm an innocent child.”
The Knight of the Raging Wind nodded at those words and vanished like the wind.
Leaping out the open window.
“Why use the window when there's a perfectly good door?”
The acolyte tilted his head in confusion.
Come to think of it, he should have been notified if someone had come to visit, but no one had informed him of the Knight of the Raging Wind's arrival.
Finding it strange, he was about to call someone to ask about the situation.
“The intruder went that way!”
“Get him!”
The shouts of the Iron Cross Knights echoed from outside.
Only then did he realize why no one had told him the Knight of the Raging Wind had visited.
They couldn't have informed him if they never knew he was there in the first place.
“‘Raging’ isn't in his title for nothing.”
To think he would visit one of the largest monasteries in the Empire by trespassing, of all things.
The acolyte shook his head once and clasped his hands in prayer.
“Please, anyone…”
The inquisitor from the Grand Monastery, or the abbot who had been away.
He prayed and prayed for any of his superiors to return.
And his wish was granted.
Though in a slightly different manner than he had expected.
“Hmm.”
A letter arrived from the Grand Monastery.
In short, its content was this:
[We leave this to your monastery's judgment and discretion.]
Handle it yourselves.
For the acolyte, who had been anxiously awaiting someone from the Grand Monastery, it was like a bolt from the blue.
There were no words more terrifying to a subordinate than "handle it yourself."
Especially in a situation where he didn't know the full story.
The acolyte agonized over it.
“There's a request from the child for a blanket to put on the floor, saying his back hurts…”
Just then, a junior acolyte delivered the child's request.
“I should release the child first.”
After a moment's hesitation, the acolyte made his decision.
If it became a problem later, he could simply summon him back.
A child who had willingly entered the Penitence Cell to follow his master would surely return to the monastery without complaint.
“He refused.”
“……What?”
“Well, um. He says he has no intention of leaving.”
But absurdly, the child had kicked away the chance to leave the Penitence Cell.
The unexpected turn of events left the acolyte speechless.
Now, he had no choice but to wait for the abbot to return.
“Abbot, please.”
He clasped his hands and prayed again.
More desperately than before.
As if his prayers had reached the heavens, the abbot returned.
He was back a fortnight earlier than originally scheduled.
The acolyte immediately confessed everything that had happened to the abbot.
“Gunther, Gunther…”
A complex expression flickered across the abbot's face upon hearing the sinner's name.
It seemed there was a story the acolyte didn't know.
After a long silence lost in thought, the abbot finally spoke.
“I must see the child before I meet him.”
The acolyte rose from his seat without delay.
***
Enduring the Penitence Cell for long was no easy task, even for the most devout of holy knights.
In fact, the more devout they were, the more painful it was.
To have their connection to the stars—the very foundation and source of a knight's power—severed, losing the abundant vitality and blessings they once enjoyed, was an experience more horrifying than knights could imagine.
But this didn't apply to the current Gunther.
The stars had fallen silent for him ten years ago.
In all that time, he had heard no voice, let alone the guidance of the stars.
His blessings were all but gone compared to his prime, and only a faint trace remained of the vitality that once surged whenever he needed it.
His energy had been slowly returning recently, but it was still a negligible amount.
Therefore, for Gunther, the time spent in the Penitence Cell was merely an extension of the past years. It wasn't particularly painful.
However, to say that living in this stuffy, windowless space was easy would be another matter entirely.
A space cut off from the outside world.
Oppressive white walls.
A bare interior with not a single piece of furniture.
For an ordinary person, it was a form of torture that was difficult to endure.
And Gunther was, if anything, an ordinary person.
But to him now, the environment of the Penitence Cell was by no means unbearable torture.
What was truly hard to endure was…
“They give you food at every meal, and you can sleep as much as you want. Ahhh. This is paradise.”
“Maybe next time I'm in the Imperial Capital, I should ask to stay here.”
“Master, did you know? I haven't had a single nightmare since I got here. I feel like I can finally live.”
“I just wish the food was a little better.”
“Do the people of the Order have no sense of taste? I guess if you eat this stuff your whole life, even a normal palate would disappear.”
“But they're keeping our luggage safe, right? They wouldn't sell it, would they? Nah. They're clerics, after all, not bandits running a business. Are we sure it's okay?”
“Master, how did you ever live in such a boring place?”
…the child's incessant chatter.
He had noticed it before, but the child was truly talkative.
Full of curiosity, which meant he talked a lot, and complained a lot.
“Hey! Acolytes! I need something!”
He made a lot of demands, too.
In any case, his mouth never stopped for a moment.
And it wasn't just his mouth that was busy.
“One, two. One, two.”
“Hah, hah.”
One moment he would be running around the small Penitence Cell, and the next he would be on the floor doing push-ups.
Then again, even before entering the cell, he was a child who couldn't sit still for a moment, always scurrying about and exploring everywhere.
It was nothing new.
“Hello. Acolytes? Hello? Is anyone there?”
Watching the child pressed against the door, shouting, Gunther couldn't help but chuckle.
He was distracting, but thanks to him, Gunther didn't even feel a hint of boredom.
“Ah, I'm bored. So bored. So, so bored.”
Though the boy himself was writhing in boredom.
“Huh?”
Just then, he sensed a presence beyond the door.
*Clank, clank.*
The heavy sound of metal, the presence of a heavily armored knight.
“Yan. Step back.”
Gunther unconsciously stepped in front of the child.
*Creeak.*
The door opened.
A knight with his hand on his sword hilt and eyes flashing scanned the inside of the cell.
“The abbot wishes to meet with the child.”
Immediately, the acolyte standing behind him stepped forward and delivered the abbot's message.
“He has sworn upon the Iron Cross in his heart that no harm will come to the child.”
A promise from the abbot, and one sworn on the Iron Cross in his heart at that, was trustworthy.
Nevertheless, Gunther couldn't bring himself to hand the child over so easily.
“Master.”
As if sensing his inner thoughts, the child quietly tugged on his clothes and nodded.
*Don't worry,* the child's eyes seemed to say.
In truth, he knew.
This was a child with enough cunning to be as shrewd as necessary when the situation called for it.
Even without him making such a fuss, the boy was more than capable of taking care of himself.
In the end, the hesitant Gunther took a step back.
“Well then.”
The child behind him walked out the door.
“I'll be back as soon as I can.”
Leaving with a promise to return soon.
But contrary to his words, no matter how much time passed, there was no sign of the child's return.
Nearly half a day went by.
*Creeak.*
The door opened, and the same acolyte from before appeared.
Gunther, who had instinctively looked past him for the child, frowned.
“The abbot is waiting for you.”
Gunther hastily pushed past the acolyte and left the Penitence Cell.
The Iron Cross Knight beside him briefly blocked his path but soon stepped aside.
He headed straight for the abbot's office.
Since the buildings of a religious order were mostly alike, finding his way wasn't difficult.
Gunther, practically running, reached the abbot's office and threw the door open.
Or, he tried to.
Before he heard the soft murmur of voices from inside.
“So then, you know what my master said?”
“Hmm. What could he have said? I dare not even guess.”
The conversation between the old and the young reached Gunther's perked ears.
“‘That's not begging, it's alms-seeking, you brat.’”
“Oho. Indeed, there is such a tradition among our Order's pilgrimages. Though it's all but forgotten now, as no one practices it anymore.”
“Huh? So my master didn't just make that up out of embarrassment? I had no idea. By the way, can I have some more of these snacks?”
“I'm glad you like them. Our generous brothers and sisters often bring such treats, and it's been a problem getting rid of them. You may have them all if you wish.”
“Wow, the acolytes really must have no sense of taste. Why wouldn't they eat these?”
As Gunther stood there dumbfounded by the overly affectionate conversation—hardly an interrogation—the Iron Cross Knight and the acolyte who had followed him knocked on the office door.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
Snapping back to his senses, Gunther saw the scene inside.
On the table was a steaming glass of milk and a pile of delicious-looking cookies and biscuits.
Sitting beside it was an elderly cleric, and on his lap, a small child.
“……?”
The sight, like that of an affectionate grandfather and his grandchild, left Gunther with a bewildered expression.