The Genius Girl of a Rural Village
In the year 1298 of a world where mana exists.
The Vesta Order, once the mainstream faith of the Europa Continent, had been sliding downhill for decades.
The reason was simple.
Disappointed by the Order’s corruption, the goddess had withdrawn Divine Power from the priests.
From that moment on, the Order’s standing began a freefall that could no longer be stopped.
Losing something that once existed is far more fatal than never having possessed it at all.
In a world of other races and magic, faith operates in an extremely simple fashion.
People believe because they can see it with their own eyes.
Priests heal the sick with Divine Power; holy knights purge monsters with sacred arts—so they believe.
The instant the clear proof of the goddess’s existence vanished, even a snot-nosed brat who knew nothing could deny a cleric’s authority.
How could people who could not even handle flame call themselves priests?
The Order’s collapse was therefore only natural.
When the goddess reclaimed every power she had once bestowed, the glorious past itself became an indictment of the Order’s corruption.
Priests whose lack of faith had been laid bare plummeted to the bottom of hell in a single breath.
The reclamation of power completely severed the lifeline of an Order riddled with graft and vice. Churches that had handled local administration crumbled one after another; dozens of territories were turned upside down; and an end-times of cults rising to power arrived.
And then—
Even the chaos that had begun that way faded after decades had passed.
The Lantern Bearer girl who had guarded the Order’s sole sacred relic, praying only that the goddess’s heart might soften, finally received a revelation from the goddess.
“Saintess, Saintess…!”
Something strange had bitten the bait I cast to reel in rich suckers.
Unfocused golden eyes that looked ready to tip over. Limp, disheveled yellow hair that had lost all life. And a baggy brown robe that was nowhere near the right size.
The girl who had knocked on my front door in broad daylight, lantern in hand, called herself the Lantern Bearer of the Order.
As someone ignorant of this neighborhood’s mythology, all I could think was, so who the hell are you supposed to be?
I didn’t even know why the girl had come to my house in the first place.
The only guess I had was the news of inventing the Water Frame that I’d spread through traveling merchants—but this girl looked like a pauper a hundred miles removed from any investment or patronage.
Moreover, our village was a worthless backwater. A frontier so remote even the lord had given up protecting it.
A place you could barely approach without the ability to defend yourself from the bandits and beasts that littered every road—and this frail girl had broken through that ordeal alone?
No matter how I turned it over, it lacked all realism. Talk of a Saintess was a complete mystery to a former atheist.
“Have you perhaps lost your guardian?”
What finally left my mouth was a question that only barely skirted rudeness.
Hey, but honestly it was a fair question. Believing talk of Lantern Bearer or Saintess was far less realistic than her being a delusional patient who had run away from another village.
“My guardian? What a strange thing to say. I am the Saintess’s guardian. It is not a position that requires protection from others.”
Yep. Delusional patient confirmed.
Or a scammer trying to kidnap the genius inventor with plausible words and snatch the inventions.
There is a fitting reception for uninvited guests like this.
“If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling my parents.”
There is one thing the Middle Ages has over modern times.
You can bury the vermin who rely on cheap talk to swindle others in the mountain behind the village without much trouble.
Of course, if a robber breaks into our house it’s also no problem—that’s a downside—but if you bury the robber you can take the loot, so it balances out to zero.
And this is our village.
With home-ground advantage alone, I can easily bury one naive scammer like this.
“Ah, the Saintess’s parents, is it.”
I reminded her of this medieval logic and pressed her to withdraw quietly, but the scammer girl, far from running, looked delighted.
“I should certainly greet them as well. My heart is pounding wondering what kind of people they are.”
Gasp. My heart is starting to pound too. What if she’s a serial killer who came to murder my whole family.
What do I do? Should I handle it myself before harm reaches the family? But she looks about four years older than me, and with this height difference, can I even win?
No— a serial killer wouldn’t come looking for me for no reason.
Then could she be a hitman sent by the spinning guild?
The possibility is high enough. Medieval artisan guilds are extremely closed and tend to obsess over monopolies.
If they took the rumor of the Water Frame seriously, it wouldn’t be strange to send an assassin to check whether it was true.
“Just a moment— I have something I wish to give the Saintess. Our entire family has been gathering it together since my grandfather’s time.”
While I was imagining the worst possible scenario and searching for escape routes, the hitman girl rummaged inside her baggy robe and thrust something at me.
A leather pouch that looked quite heavy.
Imagining poison or a blackjack from it, I shook my head vigorously and stepped back.
“You needn’t refuse. I only hope it helps on the Saintess’s journey.”
But the heinous murderer closed the distance in an instant and pressed the leather pouch into my hand.
…Huh.
Wasn’t she going to smash my head with this…?
In a daze, I checked the contents of the pouch.
The feel of metal accompanied by a clinking sound.
Money? What? Is she actually a good person? A patron who recognized this smart little inventor’s talent and came to generously offer sponsorship funds? Did I fall into paranoia again and misunderstand a kind person?
“Um, this money is…?”
As the heavy sponsorship money entered my hand, I felt the tension melt away like snow.
It might seem too materialistic to react this way after fretting about serial killers just now, but I relaxed not simply because I received money.
Because I received so much money that the tension dissolved in an instant.
I’m not saying I feel good just because I got a lot of money.
Based on the size and weight of the pouch, the estimated sponsorship amount is at least 100 florins.
Far too much money to use just to lower a country girl’s guard.
Simply put, the cost-performance doesn’t add up.
The rumor of the Water Frame spread through merchants has only just reached the cities, and automating spinning work is almost in the realm of fantasy in this era.
No matter how I think about it, it’s hard to believe my neck is valued at over 100 florins.
Maybe after the Water Frame rumor is confirmed true—but not now.
“It’s the offerings we gathered while waiting for the Saintess. It’s a meager sum, but I hope it helps even a little.”
That’s why I’m safely offering thanks to this kind patron.
It was far too much money to keep being afraid of.
I believe our patron won’t harm me.
The titles like Saintess are a bit hard to grasp, but if I think of it as medieval roleplay, it’s not that strange, so it’s fine.
Since the Order is ruined anyway, there are no priests left to bitch about impersonation.
“Thank you. I will use this precious sponsorship money without wasting a single coin to pioneer the future of humanity.”
I happily played along with our patron’s roleplay.
Since I plan to use all the funds for inventing, it’s not exactly a lie either.
But then our patron suddenly burst into tears and sank to the floor.
So startled I even put down the money pouch and approached to ask why, the patron spoke with an expression as if she had weathered every storm in the world.
“I’m sorry. Thinking that I’ve truly met the Saintess, I suddenly got choked up…”
Hmm. A patron with a rather unique mental world.
I immediately understood and picked up the money pouch I’d set on the floor.
And the moment I went to pick up the 1-florin copper coin I’d dropped earlier, a vivid golden light stabbed my eyes.
Wait a minute. Golden light?
“A gold coin?”
In an instant my brain whirled furiously and output a single equation.
1 florin is a copper coin made of copper.
The next step is a 20-florin silver coin.
A gold coin, which I had never seen even once, is worth a full 100 florins each.
Then what I’m picking up now isn’t 1 florin but 100 florins, and the total sponsorship in the pouch isn’t 100 florins but 10,000 florins…?
“U-um. Lantern Bearer?”
“Please call me Rebecca comfortably. There is no reason for the Saintess to use formal speech with me.”
“Th-then, Rebecca unnie.”
I spoke our patron’s name with a trembling voice.
I know it sounds pathetic, but even so, I have to confirm this.
“Am I really the Saintess…?”
Our patron stared at me hard for a long while, then answered by silently nodding her head.
Yeah. I see.
Why?