Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Who the Hell is Yan? (4)
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Ssk.
Seeing Gunther, the child got up from the old priest's lap.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he went and sat in the chair opposite them.
“Master.”
Sitting with his back ramrod straight, he looked so dignified that one would not feel ashamed of him anywhere.
If it were not for the cookie crumbs smeared all over his mouth, Gunther, too, would have been immensely proud.
“It's been a while.”
Gunther, who had been quietly watching the child, finally turned to the old priest.
“Do you not recognize me?”
Come to think of it, the old priest's face did look familiar.
But when he tried to recall who it was, he could not place him.
“Well, a lot of time has passed. I've grown old, and so have you.”
Just as the old priest said, too much time had passed since he had left the monastery.
Time had gnawed away at his memories, blurring everything, so he felt little emotion at the other's words.
“It's me. Michael.”
But the moment he heard the name, ripples spread through his heart.
Surprisingly, it was longing.
A rare, fond memory from a past otherwise riddled with regret and pain.
“The monk who made wine?”
Gunther's eyes widened.
“So you haven't forgotten everything. Good. Think of all the wine you got from me.”
The old priest, Michael, chuckled heartily.
“Brother, what are you doing here…?”
“What do you mean? I'm the director here.”
“Ah…?”
“What, you think it's the end of days that a country bumpkin who knows nothing but winemaking became the monastery's director? I think so too. The world is a strange place.”
Contrary to his words, the Michael Gunther remembered was no mere country bumpkin.
A man beloved by all for his innate character and high virtue.
The fourth disciple of the former Archabbot, he had been a promising candidate to lead the monastery, but he was an eccentric who was passionate only about tending his small vineyard and making wine.
“It’s good to see you’re alive, at least.”
Michael said to him with the same generous expression as before.
“An occasion like this calls for a drink.”
He then took a bottle from a drawer in the corner of his office.
“You should feel honored. This is the last of Michael the winemaker's vintage.”
Michael, grumbling that since becoming director he had not had time to go near the winery, let alone make wine, spoke to the child.
“I'll be borrowing your master for a bit.”
“Yes, sir. I'll be on my way.”
The child gathered the cookies from the table, bowed to Michael and Gunther in turn, then opened the door and left.
“You've got a good squire. A rare child, kind and amiable.”
Michael said, gazing at the spot where the child had disappeared.
“And cunning, too.”
He had a strange expression.
“He seems to have thought I called him in for a witness interrogation. While pretending otherwise, he defended you to an appalling degree. To hear him tell it, you're a saint without peer in this world.”
Savior of the West, Light of Komlat, the Righteous Relief Knight-Captain, and so on and so forth.
“‘My master is a good person, so please let him go.’ It was practically a blatant plea. And he was subtly boasting about his connections, too.”
Michael picked up a few letters from the top of a large pile on his desk and handed them to Gunther.
Gunther nodded without even reading them.
Just by looking at the prominent seals, he could guess what they were about.
He must have whispered with the mercenaries when he was being dragged here, preparing an escape route like this.
“Anyway, it's been a long time since I've felt so covetous. If he weren't your squire, I would have tried to raise him myself somehow.”
“…He is more than a man like me deserves… Shh. Just a moment.”
Gunther stopped mid-sentence, rose from his seat, and walked toward the door.
He flung the door open.
And as he abruptly opened it, something small tumbled into the room from the other side.
“Gasp, Master.”
It was the child who had just left the room.
“This isn't what it looks like. What happened was… Ah, my cookies.”
The child, who had been stammering out excuses, looked crestfallen at the bundle of cookies, now crumbled and soggy.
“Go on now. I'll be back soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
The child bowed his head and scurried out of the room.
Thud.
Gunther, looking at the firmly closed door, grabbed the handle and turned it again.
“Ah! I'm really going this time!”
Only after the child, who had been lingering by the door, completely disappeared down the corridor did Gunther sit back down.
“You live an interesting life.”
“…Well, it's not boring.”
With the little eavesdropper gone, Michael began to speak.
“There are still quite a few within the monastery who remember you.”
Instead of replying, Gunther picked up his glass.
“The higher-ups were wrong from the start. It was never normal to send someone with the talent to lead the Paladins out like that.”
His gaze was complex as he looked at the crimson wine in his glass.
“Even if they couldn't roll out the red carpet like they do for secular knights, they shouldn't have thrown you into a pool of blood.”
Memories of the past briefly overlapped with the red glass.
“Even back then, opinions were divided about making a talent meant to lead the Paladins in the light into a sword of the shadows. An Inquisitor, of all things. What era do they think this is, digging up such an antiquated tradition? My master and all the others must have been senile.”
Jolted from his reverie by the harsh words, he drained the wine.
Gulp.
He frowned.
It was astringent and bitter.
He looked at Michael.
The man who used to smile happily while tending his small vineyard had become an old man, his face etched with wrinkles like the passage of time.
‘Gunther, wine is a curious thing. If the person who makes it is happy, it tastes happy. That's the secret to my wine. Hahaha.’
It seemed that the years Michael had lived through were just as arduous as his own, Gunther thought.
“I'll be direct.”
Michael, who had been watching him in silence, spoke again.
“Will you come back?”
“I was excommunicated ten years ago.”
“Don't worry about that. The moment you agree, the excommunication will be nullified.”
Gunther's eyes widened at Michael's words.
“I haven't been idle these past ten years. After you left the monastery, I stopped making wine and headed to the Archabbey. And now, here I am. The director of a monastery located in the heart of the Empire.”
Michael smiled.
“All you have to do is say yes. I'll take care of the rest.”
It was a smile somewhat different from the one the ever-bright and warm monk used to wear—a bit cold and dry.
“I appreciate it, but it's too late.”
“You haven't understood me properly. You've lost ten years, haven't you? If you had stayed, you'd be about a vice-captain by now.”
Despite his refusal, Michael did not give up.
“Let's do this. Start as vice-captain. Then, just three years. In that time, I'll persuade the elders. Thirteen years isn't late compared to where you were before.”
“…That's not what I mean.”
Sighing, Gunther revealed the back of his hand, which had been hidden by his sleeve.
“…Why!”
Seeing the three stars engraved on the back of his hand, Michael's eyes flew wide as if they would tear.
“Since that day, He has withdrawn most of the power and blessings He bestowed upon me.”
Gunther pulled his sleeve back down and spat out bitterly.
“The person Director Michael remembers no longer exists. I am now just Gunther, a 3-Star Freelance Knight wandering the world.”
Michael squeezed his eyes shut.
“Those blinded by power have finally done it! If even the one closest to His glory has become like this, how can others hope for His unfailing love!”
A lament like a scream escaped his lips.
“Everything was merely a sign! Soon, the rest will follow!”
The words were too ominous and resentful to be a simple lament.
It seemed there was some problem within the monastery that he did not know about.
But Gunther did not bother to ask what it was.
What was important to him now was…
“Now, what will happen to me—no, to the child?”
…making sure the innocent child did not suffer any more hardships for having the wrong master.
“As of today, your excommunication will be rescinded. Naturally, you and the child will both be released.”
“…I have no intention of returning.”
“To be honest, whether you returned or not was never important from the beginning.”
Saying that, Michael quickly changed the subject.
“Your connections are quite impressive.”
“…?”
“The Black Knight, Navian Gaznae, personally visited the Archabbey.”
“What do you mean by that…?”
“She requested your and the child's release. In a rather aggressive manner.”
This time, even Gunther was surprised.
It was one thing for the Crown Prince, the Guild, or the Cradle to step in, as they were entangled in various matters, but for the Black Knight to intervene to save him was another story entirely.
Their only connection was having stayed briefly at her castle on the way here.
“She spouted some nonsense about how she'd postponed her ascension and left her family, and what would she do if there was a setback. She was so adamant, it seemed she was ready for a fight if things went sour.”
He could not fathom what postponing her ascension had to do with them.
He could only vaguely guess.
That this, too, was not unrelated to the child.
“The Archabbey has delegated all matters to us here. They didn't want to hear that they'd bowed to the dignity of a secular family, so they essentially dumped the responsibility on us.”
Michael, reciting the Archabbey's decision with a somewhat cynical expression, rose from his seat.
“Since it's come to this, I intend to completely erase your existence from the Iron Cross Monastery. If you don't exist, how can a record of excommunication be maintained? And how can any sin you committed remain?”
Gunther was stunned by the unexpected decision.
“Officially, you and the Iron Cross Monastery are now complete strangers.”
“Does that mean…?”
“On what grounds could the monastery detain people with whom it has no connection? You and the child may leave whenever you wish.”
Finishing his words, Michael spoke as if something had just occurred to him.
“And. About that mother and daughter from ten years ago.”
Gunther, who was reaching for his glass, froze.
“They're both healthy and well.”
He creakily raised his head to look at Michael.
A benevolent smile graced his wrinkled face.
“The daughter even got married recently. She held out for a long time, saying she'd ask you for a congratulatory speech if you returned, so she ended up having the ceremony quite late.”
“…Who am I to give a speech.”
“What do you mean, who? You're the hero who gave up everything to protect an innocent mother and daughter.”
Anyway, that's how it is. Michael patted Gunther's shoulder.
“I should have told you this first, actually. I was thoughtless.”
At that gentle touch, Gunther hung his head low.
“Now, let's wrap up this story.”
When he finally raised his head after a long while, he saw a glass filled with wine.
Michael smiled and nudged the glass toward him.
“Now, then, shall we hear the story of our brother's life?”
A long, long time ago,
before everything fell apart.
With the same face he had worn back then, when he would secretly offer his homemade wine to a young paladin returning from a mission, pestering him for stories of the outside world.
“I…”
His mouth was dry.
Gunther could not bear the thirst, so he gulped down the wine in one go.
It was still bitter.
But not as much as the first time.
* * *
-I met the child there…
-At the sight of the child changing day by day…
-Overcoming hardship with the child's wisdom…
-After much deliberation, I sent the child to the Cradle…
Listening to the murmuring voices, I quietly moved away from the door.
“He asks for the story of his life, and all he talks about is me.”
My effort to stay behind, hoping to hear about Gunther's life before he met me, was all for naught.
Still, I did get to hear a bit about Gunther before he left the monastery, so it was not a complete waste.
“Master, you were a real big shot.”
The next Paladin Captain, the knight closest to glory. The snippets I overheard were incredible.
Gunther was a much greater man than I had ever imagined.
A respect I never knew I had surged within me.
It was not just because of his impressive past.
The title of Inquisitor, an innocent mother and daughter, excommunication.
It was not hard to guess the sin Gunther committed, the one they did not detail.
It must have been something like this.
A young paladin who drew his sword against the monastery where he was born and raised to stop the punishment of heresy from being inflicted upon an innocent mother and daughter.
I would wager that among all the knights, none has a more compelling song.
“I won't be able to tease him by calling him a beggar knight anymore.”
For some reason, the tip of my nose tingled.
I rubbed it with my finger and turned away.