The Miracle of the Five Loaves and Two Fish
The creaky door of the church swung open slowly.
A chill wind from outside brushed against Ellian's cheek. In his hands, he carried a single basket. Inside it were five loaves of bread and two dried fish. It wasn't much. Honestly speaking, it was woefully insufficient.
Already, people had gathered at the foot of the church steps.
They were beggars.
An old man draped in a tattered cloak, a child standing barefoot, a sick person slumped against the wall, barely able to keep their eyes open. Word must have spread somehow. News that "food was being given out at the church" traveled faster than any miracle.
Ellian looked down at them for a moment.
Their eyes were filled with expectation—a mix of hope and resignation.
Without a word, he knelt and offered the first loaf.
"Please, share it among yourselves."
One simple phrase.
The people exchanged glances before tentatively reaching out. At first, they took just small pieces. Some tore off even tinier bits and passed them to the person beside them.
The bread passed from hand to hand.
One piece at a time.
Very small, one piece at a time.
One child took a piece and beamed with joy. Seeing this, the old man split his own share in half and handed it over. Someone murmured a word of thanks.
For that brief moment, the place felt less like a marketplace or street and more like a humble table laden with food.
But soon enough...
The bottom of the basket came into view.
Ellian's hand froze in midair.
Only a single palm-sized crumb of bread remained.
The line hadn't ended yet.
Those at the back had already sensed what was happening and lowered their gazes. Hope faded quickly, as it always did. The faint smiles they'd worn just moments ago vanished quietly.
One man shook his head as if it were no big deal.
"I... I can wait for next time..."
It was a lie. Everyone knew there was no next time.
Ellian gazed down at the last crumb of bread.
Then he let out a slow breath.
...Still not enough.
Just as he'd expected.
Ellian turned his head and looked up at the grand manor standing alone atop the hill.
"..."
The Holy Light Church had a doctrine called the Tithe.
It hadn't started out as anything grandiose. A few loaves from the harvest, a bit of leftover grain—simply a promise to share so no one in the village went hungry. The well-fed giving a little to help the starving endure another day. That was its original meaning.
Villages collected their tithes under the guidance of the parish priest. After services, the faithful brought bread, dried meat, sacks of grain, and stacked them in the communal storehouse behind the church. In times of famine or illness, the storehouse opened. No one should starve to death—that was the teaching of the Holy Light Church.
...At least, it used to be.
When had it begun? When ledgers started appearing beside the storehouse.
"This month's tithe in silver coins, please."
The priests had said as much. Bread alone wasn't enough, they claimed; to spread the goddess's will far and wide, "offerings" were needed. The people hesitated at first but eventually bowed their heads. It was hard to refuse words spoken in the name of the divine.
And so the storehouse filled not just with bread and grain, but with pouches of coin.
Yet strangely, as the storehouse brimmed fuller, the number of starving people didn't decrease. Instead, the priests' robes grew more ornate, and the church began expansions.
Even as the name of Goddess Yustia echoed in prayers, Ellian knew the truth.
This was just business conducted in the goddess's name.
Poor little Brunel was no exception.
Or put another way, it meant this village did have some store of food somewhere.
"Do not rebuke faith in the face of hunger. First, place bread in their hands. Light blooms not from the mouths of the well-fed, but from hands that share..."
"Faith is a flickering candle before starvation. Forcing it upon them is nothing but one-sided violence."
But there was a solution.
"Hey, you! Are you Ellian?"
Lightly armed village guards appeared, surrounding him.
And behind them... the village priests and the chief.
Ellian smiled, thinking things were unfolding even more smoothly than anticipated.
Village chief Matias of Brunel was enjoying a feast.
The long table overflowed with greasy meats, freshly baked bread, and soups rich with spices. His wineglass never emptied.
Across from him sat the Holy Light Church priests. Though clad in clerical robes, the rings on their fingers and their bulging bellies told a clearer story of their lives.
Matias raised his glass.
"This year's tithe has been quite bountiful."
One priest nodded with a smile.
"Thanks to their deepening faith, no doubt."
Another chimed in.
"Deepening? More like... well persuaded."
Laughter erupted around the table.
The tithe was a name only now. They took ten in the name of the divine, then demanded five more for "shortfalls." Grainless homes were loaned coin, which became offerings in turn.
All that wealth now lay upon this table.
"And all this..."
One priest swirled his wine as he spoke.
"Is it not the blessing of Goddess Yustia?"
"A blessing indeed."
Matias replied calmly.
"The one bestowed upon us."
More laughter followed.
That was when it happened.
Bang—!
The door flew open as a merchant tumbled inside, gasping for breath. He shouted hoarsely,
"Big trouble! The church... the church is in chaos!"
All eyes turned to him.
"What nonsense is this?"
Matias scowled.
"That guy Ellian... huff... he's turned the church... into a total mess!"
The priests' smiles vanished in an instant.
"What did you say?"
They shoved back their chairs and stood.
Matias's eyes grew icy.
"Call the guards."
He rose slowly, donning his coat.
"Blasphemy."
Moments later, the chief and priests led armed guards toward the church.
They didn't take long to find the culprit who'd ruined their rare feast.
He hadn't fled—that would have been understandable.
But the man stood calmly on the church steps, as if waiting for someone.
Beggars clustered around. Rag-clad folk, bony children, trembling elders sharing bread crumbs.
The loaves had been broken into tiny bits. Some held mouthful-sized pieces, others cradled crumbs in their palms like treasures.
Matias's brow furrowed deeply.
He slowly turned and glared at the man atop the steps.
Shabby attire—neither quite cleric nor wanderer.
Yet he didn't avert his gaze.
As if the whole scene had been scripted.
The chief who had been glaring spoke.
"You're... Ellian."
The man didn't deny it.
Matias's voice grew colder.
"What gives you the right to distribute church property on a whim and disrupt village order?"
The priests behind him cleared their throats in support.
"That bread is offered to the divine."
"You can't touch it without permission."
"Do you even know what blasphemy means?"
Ellian regarded them quietly before slowly scanning the surroundings.
People clutching bread, heads bowed; children eyeing warily, fearing it might be taken.
Then his gaze returned to the chief.
"...A reason...?"
He murmured softly.
"They all looked hungry."
Such a simple explanation. No one could reply immediately.
"Hah."
The chief let out a disbelieving scoff.
After tilting his head and staring down at Ellian, he turned away, interest lost.
He flicked his hand lightly.
The guards moved.
Blasphemy was among the gravest crimes. Formally, it required extradition to the Holy Kingdom for trial by the archbishops. Far beyond a mere man's life.
But Matias cared nothing for procedure.
This was the hinterlands. And he was lord here.
Three guards stepped forward.
Their well-maintained spears and swords gleamed in the sun, though worn.
Ellian didn't move.
He simply stood on the steps, watching them.
No sign of flight or excuse.
That demeanor made the guards hesitate briefly.
"...Cut him down if he resists."
The chief's irritated addition erased their pause.
The first guard lunged with his spear.
The distance was short.
One step.
Two steps.
And...
Thwack.
Ellian casually deflected the spear with one hand.
Not fast. No fancy technique.
Just a slight wrist twist.
But in the next instant...
The spear spun into empty air. The guard lost balance and tumbled aside.
"Wha—"
Before he could finish, the second swung his sword. It sliced the air. Ellian sidestepped. The blade grazed only his hem.
And.
Tap.
The back of his hand struck the flat of the blade. The sword flew from the guard's grip, skidding across the stone.
Too easy.
Less a fight than steadying a stumbling man.
The last guard froze.
Silence fell.
The beggars held their breath. The priests paled.
The man they'd taken for ordinary stood atop the steps, breathing steadily, unruffled.
Ellian slowly raised his head.
"...I'm not here to fight."
One hand gestured to the beggars.
"I'm here to feed them."
In that moment...
The chief realized why the man hadn't fled.
There was no need to.
Even rural guards were trained soldiers. Ordinary villagers, especially unarmed men, couldn't withstand them.
Matias's hands began to tremble. His voice too.
"Wh-what do you want?"
Ellian spread his hand, showing five fingers to the chief.
"Five loaves..."
"Five... l-loaves...? Fine... five l-loaves..."
"...Every time five loaves run out."
Ellian slowly lifted his holy book.
"...One strike."
The air froze.
"...What?"
Matias's face hardened.
That instant.
A shrill scream tore from the back.
"Hiiiik!!"
People whipped around in alarm.
Amid the crowd, a pale-faced merchant pointed at Ellian, shaking—the very one who'd been struck by the holy book at the church.
A few guards instinctively backed away.
Ellian glanced at him briefly before turning away as if nothing had happened.
He quietly opened the holy book. Worn pages rustled.
He recited a verse.
"Hands that hesitate before the hungry are not praying hands."
"...Th-this is blackmail."
Ellian tilted his head slightly.
"Light does not compel, yet neither does it abide the dark."
A calm recitation, like reading a verdict.
He raised his hand again, spreading five fingers.
"Five loaves."
The holy book lifted slowly.
"What greed piles up, sharing tears down."
One priest in the back broke into cold sweat.
"...That verse... doesn't mean that, does it...?"
No one answered.
Ellian took one final step forward.
The crowd parted automatically.
"Light does not descend. It is passed from person to person."
His gaze fixed on the chief. The approaching silence pressed heavily on Matias.
"A-alright... st-stop... please... I beg you."
Only then did Ellian tuck the holy book back into his robes, offer a prayer to the heavens, and smile.
"All is as the goddess wills."
The plaza before the church still teemed with people.
There was one man among them.
He was a man whose name no one properly remembered. People just called him beggar, or ignored him entirely.
A being whose name was forgotten. That's what he was to the villagers.
He hadn't eaten properly for days. Hunger blurred time. Yesterday blended with today, today with yesterday. Even the sense of being alive faded.
He wasn't alone. Glancing around, comrades in the same plight abounded.
So at first, he didn't believe it.
Not the rumor of food at the church. Nor the tale of a stranger sharing bread.
Hope usually just made misery worse.
But he dragged himself there on that slender thread of hope.
"..."
Arriving at the rumored spot, what met his eyes.
Five loaves of bread and two dried fish.
He almost laughed. What could they do with that?
Yet...
People began to eat, sharing.
Tearing off a piece. Then another, passing it on.
They gave their shares to neighbors.
But he stood at the line's end, expecting nothing.
His turn wouldn't come.
It never had.
But something was off.
People kept eating. Children laughed with second pieces. Some patted full bellies, sitting content.
And at some point...
Bread landed in his hand too.
Cold, but fresh—not leftovers.
He stared blankly before taking a bite.
Tears came first. Not from the taste.
His stomach... was filling.
He looked up.
Far off, the man stood.
Brown-haired, shabby clothes, holy book in one hand.
He moved through the crowd, distributing the rest.
It made no sense.
This was...
"...a miracle."
He murmured.
Ellian paused and met his gaze.
The beggar hesitated before asking,
"Why... do something like this?"
Ellian glanced skyward thoughtfully.
Then replied steadily,
"Love thy neighbor. It's Goddess Yustia's teaching."
Too simple an answer.
The beggar fell silent, then ventured cautiously,
"...Then, should I convert to the Holy Light Church in return?"
Ellian's expression softened ever so slightly.
He shook his head.
"I'm no priest of the Holy Light Church. I lack even the authority to baptize."
The beggar faltered.
"Then why—"
He couldn't finish. Ellian answered first.
"Teachings aren't the sole domain of priests."
He looked around.
Sated people, those who'd shared crumbs—all watched him.
"It matters not if you're of the Holy Light Church."
Eyes welled up around him.
"The goddess's light doesn't shine only on believers."
"Then... I... even without faith..."
Ellian nodded.
"You deserve love."
That day, for the first time, the beggar looked to the heavens without bowing his head.
Night was falling.
Stars began to emerge, one by one.