The Burden of Sainthood
After that day, it was nothing but a continuous stream of muscle pain. To build either physical ability or skill, you had to push your body all the way to its limits. Since the Saintess had declared that she would not stop even after tasting hardship for herself, the others had stepped forward to guide her exactly as she wished.
In truth, muscle pain like this could be wiped away completely with a single use of Divine Power. In fact, with even basic medical knowledge this cheat-like power could probably cure cancer, so how could it fail to handle a mere muscle ache? But.
“If you rely on it, your skills won’t improve.”
“Why not?”
“Physical training has its own proper path. Why do you think the priests who volunteered for the Holy Knight Order are exhausted every single day? If you lean on Divine Power every time muscle pain appears, your abilities will hardly grow at all.”
When they put it that way, what could I do? After all, muscle pain also served as a kind of signal that muscle growth was occurring—though you’d have to dissect a person to confirm it.
And so, while I exercised with fierce, almost desperate diligence according to their instructions, I also supplied goods to the consumers in every city and village with the same fierce, almost desperate diligence. This forced march continued for more than a full month.
“Wow, this is insane.”
“This much should be all right, Saintess.”
“Thank you. Oof… aughhh……”
It seemed a basic system had already been established here as well. Because I was suffering from muscle pain, they filled a leather pouch—originally meant for carrying water—with warm water and pressed it against me like this. Whether because it was standard equipment for holy knights or because the Church refused to cut corners on expenses for them, the pouch felt pleasantly soft, and the gentle heat of the properly cooled boiled water soaked straight into my body. It felt wonderful.
Aaaah, I’m melting. Melting. Melting awaaaay…
“Saintess? Saintess?”
“Huh? Uh? What? W-what is it?”
“People are approaching over there. How would you like to handle it?”
The people in question had begun moving half a step late because of the era’s inevitable delays in information. They were heading toward a city I had already passed. Of course, their movement itself was not a problem. The whole reason I had announced my route was to mark locations where truly critical patients could receive treatment.
In other words, even if they arrived a little late and missed me, the local clergy would still be able to handle most cases once they got there. Therefore, even though the place they had just left was the final stop of the domestic tour, there was no particular need to wait for them. However—
“Prepare for crowd control. We’re not packing up and leaving immediately anyway, and we’ll be staying here for a day, won’t we? Let’s not be too narrow-minded.”
“But wouldn’t it be dangerous?”
“Look around you. Even if we had to fight them as we are, couldn’t every one of you repel them without suffering a single serious injury? If it truly became dangerous, I could simply enter the carriage, lock the door, and that would be enough.”
Their appearances were quite poor. The core of the system I was building relied on believers—my customers—continuously spending at the Church—my business—yet these people’s conditions left much to be desired if I were to treat them as potential customers.
But did that mean they held no value? No, absolutely not. A place of religion, a Church, must never screen potential customers in such a way.
“Saintess, are you certain you’ll be all right? You have already used quite a few miracles today.”
“This much is nothing. Surely there isn’t anyone among them who would require me to use miracles until I faint, is there?”
Generally, the miracles these people needed were not particularly extravagant. Since they had no proper way to treat even minor injuries, the most they usually required was something a bishop could handle—neglected fractures at worst. Moving long distances while carrying worse injuries than that was difficult in itself. Surviving long enough in these times to coincide with my schedule was even harder.
But then.
“…Huh?”
“Are you really sure you’ll be all right?”
Joking aside, there were almost no uninjured people in the entire group. The vast majority were missing at least one of their four limbs. Even those who still possessed all their limbs clearly carried some disease, their pain obvious at a glance.
“No, this might actually kill me.”
“Shall we drive them away, then?”
“I didn’t mean drive them away. Control the line. Place those who look closest to death at the front, then line up the rest in order of those who seem likely to survive longer if left alone.”
Even so, refusing to bestow miracles on them was never an option. Other clergy might be able to get away with it, but not me. What choice did I have? The name of Saint had to be preserved. I needed to view treating them not as simple monetary income, but as long-term advertising costs to maintain the Saint brand image.
“Saintess, are you truly the Saintess?”
“It has been a little over a month since I officially became the Saint. Still, I possess the necessary ability. Please entrust yourselves to me.”
“Ah… aah……”
The first was a middle-aged woman whose arm had been severed below the elbow. The cut surface was rotting, and her complexion was deathly pale. Left untreated, she would die soon. It was also hard to believe she possessed any gold. The two siblings—roughly eight or nine years old—watching my every move only strengthened that impression. Their own conditions did not look good either. It was clear their mother had desperately tried to care for them, yet they had barely escaped malnutrition.
“Can you promise me one thing?”
“Yes, yes, Saintess. If it is something I can do……”
I swallowed the words I had reflexively been about to say—that it would be enough if they simply spread word of the miracles I had granted today. Marketing was important, but I did not want to approach even this situation with that mindset. My gaze returned to the siblings. Yes, this was far more appropriate. Even from a marketing perspective, speaking more naturally felt right.
“Are those two your children?”
“Yes, they are, but……”
“Even in such hardship, I can see you have tried your best to feed them slightly better food and dress them in slightly better clothes. Please promise me that no matter how difficult things become in the future, you will continue to pour the same love upon your children. That alone will be enough.”
“Pardon? Well, I—of course… Ah!”
This would suffice. They would naturally tell others that the Saintess had spoken this way and treated them like this. What other reason could there be? With an existential crisis looming in which my very soul or mind might be discarded, it was hardly simple pity that drove me.
Recalling the first time I had done this, it was much easier. The half-rotted surface below the elbow began sprouting fresh flesh in an instant, and restoring the arm completely took only a little over ten seconds.
Using Divine Power was taxing. A miracle of this scale should normally require cardinal rank or higher, and even though a Saint’s miracles ranked slightly above that, the burden was inevitable.
But I was the Saint. When it came to preserving the Saint brand image, I could not simply give up because of a little strain.
“Here, take this and go. It is only one, but it should help you endure until you can settle down again.”
“This… is this what they call gold, Saintess?”
“It is charity that a Saint ought to provide. Later, when you have some comfort, please give it to someone in even greater need.”
One gold coin was not an especially enormous fortune. According to the official exchange rate posted at the Endium Grand Cathedral, one gold equaled two imperial gold coins. Two imperial gold coins could purchase a horse in poor condition or cover two months of living expenses for an ordinary family head. In other words, what I had given was exactly enough to last until they could get back on their feet.
Anyway, the gold I collected while traveling already exceeded a thousand coins from only a tiny fraction of what I gathered. At 3.5 grams per coin, a thousand coins came to 3.5 kilograms. With purity over ninety-eight percent, that was literally 3.5 kilograms of gold. On top of that, these coins carried the so-called Saint premium; their value had doubled compared to competing gold coins in both physical and market terms. With that much on hand, why couldn’t I spare one?
“Thank you, Saintess. Thank you so much. How can I ever… how can I……”
“There is no need for anything else. Just keep the promise you made earlier.”
“Aah… thank you……”
The pattern repeated afterward. Roughly fifty people had gathered. About thirty actually needed treatment. Most suffered injuries beyond broken bones, requiring archbishop-level miracles or higher, and not a single one possessed the means to pay a proper price.
So what could I do? I healed them all with miracles, distributed a gold coin in charity to those who seemed worst off, and—since it felt wrong to send away people who were clearly exhausted—gave each of them a bowl of thin stew as well.
If I was going to do it, I might as well do it properly. Half-measures after helping could easily earn curses instead of gratitude. Had I ignored them from the beginning and driven them away, that would have been one thing. But once I had already granted a miracle, it was only right to provide economic and more essential help as well.
If there were time, assisting them in settling down would have been perfect, but there was still a schedule to keep.
“The next route takes us to Telaia, correct?”
“Yes. It will take three or four days just to reach the border.”
“I’ll be able to rest properly during that time, won’t I? Oh—not physical training, of course.”
“Correct. There will likely be no need to use miracles at all. Few would dare attack an escort party that includes the Holy Knight Order and flies the Church’s banner.”
He said that even though he knew it. When those people had approached, he had still warned it might be dangerous. With this many holy knights, knights from noble houses, and soldiers provided by the nobility, no less. Still, I did not view it entirely negatively. It was annoying, but the kind of annoyance I could understand and accept. It was neither too little nor too much. They were fully prepared to protect me and paid close attention, yet they were not unrealistic.
“Then I should decide which academy classes to take during that time……”
“You must take theology, of course. After that, how about etiquette or fine arts? If you are worried about stamina, dance would also be suitable.”
“Isn’t that a rather biased recommendation?”
“Honestly, you do not seem to possess much talent for combat techniques. Magic is out of the question for you as well, so would you take military science or economics? Alchemy would be inappropriate for a Saint, would it not?”
Well, I had already confirmed that I lacked any particular talent for physical activities. Therefore I had no intention of taking combat techniques that would later branch into swordsmanship, spearmanship, or archery, nor magic or magical studies that were completely blocked because I had already received Divine Power as a Saint.
However, that did not mean I wanted to take fine arts and dance either. Etiquette was what I lacked most right now, so learning it would at least be meaningful.
“I’ll consider it while reflecting on your opinions. Actually—huh?”
“Who goes there! Stand still!”
Swish! Shiiing!
I had thought I noticed late because my senses were weak in that direction, but the holy knights and the noble family’s knights had also detected the hooded figure’s approach belatedly. They sprang up from their seats, drawing their swords and leveling them.
Someone had approached to within about twenty meters of me—a distance that could be considered close. That someone pulled back the deeply pressed hood, revealing a face full of smiles, and spoke.
“It is an honor to meet you for the first time, Saintess. I am Ziegfried, the Hero.”