Barefoot Through the Slums
The aftermath of that speech, and the subsequent announcement by Cardinal Rondel regarding the faith-backed currency system, was immense. Even while bathing and eating dinner, the periodic cheers from outside and the unusually large crowds lingering well into the night were enough to make it clear just how well everything had landed. Whichever way you looked at it, the performance had gone over splendidly. It had been worth gathering the crowd for that final flourish. Still, that was then, and this was now. Past success was no reason to grow complacent, so there was work to be done.
The very next morning, I left the cathedral and chose the slums as the site for my first act of distributing miracles.
“S-Saintess……”
The clothes I wore were truly luxurious. The fabric alone felt so different that even someone like me, utterly ignorant about textiles, could tell. The problem was that wandering the slums in such finery while supposedly handing out miracles could easily become ammunition for anyone looking for political dirt. Yet going out in rags would create its own set of complaints, and more importantly, it risked skewing the image of the newly appeared saintess too far in one direction.
After much deliberation, the solution we settled on was to go barefoot from the moment I left the cathedral. A saintess’s bare feet carried sacred weight—not in any fetishistic sense, but in a religious one. The scriptures spoke of how the ground she trod upon was spiritually purified and blessed. By bestowing that upon the slums, I could earn widespread public support simply by enduring the civilized revulsion of stepping directly on dirt and the hygienic discomfort of walking streets that were hardly clean. It was an incredibly profitable bargain. Where else could one buy people’s hearts without spending a single coin?
“Saintess. My—my child, please look at my child. I beg you……”
Even in a world without divine power, it was common for people to reach for the hem of a pope’s, high priest’s, or saint’s robes in hopes of receiving some fragment of blessing. Here, where real healing was possible, a mother with a sick child behaving this way was only natural. I gestured for the paladins—who had clearly been struggling to maintain order on a tight budget—to step back. Being able to put on a sorrowful expression in the meantime was, I suppose, the proud result of practicing hard to avoid being scrapped.
“May the blessing of the Most High God descend upon you, a mother who does not give up, and upon your beloved child.”
It didn’t look like a fatal illness. Considering the poor medical standards of this era, it seemed like something that would heal with proper cleaning—a mere skin condition. But for the people of the slums, even that was difficult, and both mother and child would soon have been in danger. According to the divine power standards Cardinal Rondel had explained, an average bishop-level cleric could treat twenty such cases a day without tiring. As a saintess, I could probably handle hundreds, maybe even thousands. Honestly, wasn’t this cheating? It had the power to reduce the very concept of a worldwide pandemic to little more than apocalyptic fantasy, provided the Church functioned properly.
“Ah, ahh, ah! Thank you, Saintess. Thank you! Thank you!”
Even so, I did not cure every disease in the slums. Nor should I have. Doing so would have robbed the new currency for the lowly of its initial momentum. Honestly, I wasn’t the true low-ranking deity residing in the Church’s body. I might be called a saintess and possess divine power sufficient for the title, but I wasn’t a true saintess. Yet simply because I believed in and was certain of God’s existence, I was granted this level of power. The system seemed rather lax, now that I thought about it. I also found myself briefly wondering how a true deity would have acted in my place.
“Saintess, Saintess……”
After that, no one who could be called critically ill appeared until I reached my destination—whether because someone was controlling the crowd or because those people simply lacked the strength to come out. So until I arrived, simply manifesting tiny golden sparks of divine power and scattering them like birdseed was enough to achieve my goal: making it fact that the lowest of the low had been the first to receive the saintess’s grace, so the rumor would spread.
The destination I reached was the local church in the slums.
“You’ve worked hard, Bishop.”
“My efforts are nothing compared to what you have willingly taken upon yourself, Saintess.”
“Hardly nothing. The labor of a bishop who has nursed and done his utmost to treat this level of illness is the brightest light shining within our Church.”
“That is far too generous.”
There was a church even in the slums. Though the building was small and shabby for the royal capital, and though it lacked both personnel and facilities while sitting on cramped land, how could the only faith of humanity be absent? And it was precisely these shadowed churches that drew in those with nowhere else to lay their heads. Today’s schedule was the finishing blow.
“L-Light!”
“It’s blinding……”
The people who emerged from the church basement were afflicted with leprosy—Hansen’s disease, as it was called—bodies covered in rotting sores. It wasn’t exactly the same as the disease of the same name from my world. The symptoms and contagiousness were similar, but the cause here was primarily specific demonic energy and toxins produced by certain monsters. Thus, what should have been treatable by a bishop or two had instead been elevated to a vicious disease that only a patriarch could barely manage. Naturally, they had been confined underground, unable to even step outside.
“Come to me, you pitiable ones.”
Reciting a phrase from the scriptures that somehow felt familiar, I approached them and embraced each one. Of course I felt revulsion. But for the sake of my future, I could endure this much. I had to survive first, after all. …Though “this much” had its limits. A few times, perhaps.
“She is a true saintess.”
“Impossible……”
The witnesses to this scene could not hide their shock as they watched each person I embraced be instantly healed the moment I channeled divine power. If yesterday’s speech had been that unconventional, today’s actions had to be just as bold. And with this, even if I pursued money quite openly from now on, public support would cling stubbornly to me. Quite the gain.
There was one more thing I hadn’t told Cardinal Rondel: under my plan, any tarnishing of the Church’s image from money-grubbing would fall on the institution, while I personally gained a kind of “get out of jail free” card. From a long-term perspective, for the sake of my personal safety, I desperately needed to separate part of my reputation from the Church—both to avoid criticism and to prepare for the possibility of switching sides later.
“This is the Church’s apology and small recompense for having failed to protect you from monsters and leaving you in sorrow and suffering all your lives.”
In total, I treated twenty-five lepers of this world. And along with those words, each of them received one of the specially prepared coins meant for the lowly. Once I withdrew, the other priests on duty would handle the explanations. Through this, promotion of the special currency would happen naturally, and any revulsion toward the overtly capitalistic nature of the new miracle-backed currency would be considerably diluted. At least, that was what I hoped, and Cardinal Rondel had seriously agreed with the possibility.
That alone had consumed the entire morning. In a capital city of five hundred thousand like Endium, the distance from the cathedral to the slums wasn’t short, and walking it barefoot had taken up most of the time.
Come to think of it……
“It’s surprisingly walkable.”
I had braced myself quite a bit. Walking barefoot? Why? It wasn’t as if I lacked shoes, and this wasn’t some barefoot walking course. Never mind the average medieval sense of hygiene. With the motivation of needing to survive and avoid having my mind or soul scrapped and sent who-knows-where, I could grit my teeth and endure that much. It was just feet; I could wash them later. But the real issue was the debris on improperly paved and uncleaned roads that could cut my feet. Even the somewhat paved roads weren’t ideal for barefoot walking. The paving wasn’t smooth asphalt but European-style cobblestones—roughly hewn stones laid tightly and filled with dirt—so I’d expected my soles to tear or at least for the uneven surface to cause serious fatigue. Yet it was surprisingly manageable.
“It is proof of how extraordinary you are, Saintess. A small miracle indeed.”
The bishop Cardinal Rondel had assigned answered with a gentle smile. He looked under thirty; whether that meant the manpower supply was sufficient or that mature talent was lacking here, I didn’t yet know.
“I hope no other clergy try to imitate this. Hmm, let’s put it this way: this isn’t a virtue or duty, but an act of penance and service done in the spirit of apology and reflection.”
“That you would apologize and reflect, Saintess……”
“I am now the face and symbol representing the Church. There is no need for the Church as a whole to resolve its past shortcomings through penance and service.”
“Ah, Saintess……”
I was imprinting the image of an exemplary saintess acting on behalf of the Church—the forefront of image-making. That was the current goal. Doing so would, conversely, accelerate the separation of the Church’s reputation from my own. From an outside perspective, it would look as though the Church itself was doing nothing while the saintess alone was running around on foot. Of course, there was no guarantee things would unfold so smoothly. I couldn’t completely control what people thought; it wasn’t like brainwashing. But once I started laying groundwork, the pieces would eventually synergize and produce significant results. Even if I didn’t know exactly how they’d be used, preparing like this couldn’t hurt.
Come to think of it, my mind really was working exceptionally well. It felt like my brain had never functioned this sharply in my entire life. At this rate, I might even be able to handle the politics of this world, let alone my previous one. Even if the people here weren’t stupid but simply lacked experience compared to me, there was still a clear difference, wasn’t there?
“Saintess. My apologies for interrupting your meal.”
Just as I was thinking that the body I’d ended up in—its performance, or rather talent—wasn’t bad for something that had suddenly dropped into my lap, the first trial in that direction arrived.
“It’s fine. What is it?”
“His Majesty William IV has requested your visit to the royal palace. It was phrased as an invitation rather than a summons or demand.”
The unspoken implication was clear: even if it was called an invitation, it was really “come before I have to say something more direct.” In a situation where Church and secular power were evenly matched it might be different, but right now the Church was on the back foot. If I took the word “invitation” at face value and replied “perhaps another time,” that “another time” would likely become quite troublesome.
“He’s already here. It must be about the new currency, right?”
“Yes. Most likely regarding the exclusive miracle-backed currency designation.”
I had expected this and prepared accordingly. But preparation didn’t make the tension disappear. Even when going for an interview, no matter how much you prepare, you still get nervous—and this wasn’t even me inviting someone as saintess, but being invited to meet the king himself.