Flame
After the encounter with the red eyes, the dreams did not come for a while.
When a week had passed without dreaming, Lawrence only grew more anxious.
What if I can’t dream at all anymore?
Only then did he realize how greedy he had been.
The world inside his dreams had been the only bridge connecting Lawrence to magic.
Magic, after all, had only been within reach because he had dreamed it.
Without those dreams, he would likely have gone through life never once brushing against it.
Fortunately, the dream seemed to understand the boy’s unease and returned.
The fairy friends welcomed Lawrence back as if nothing had happened.
After all that anxiety, he was so relieved tears nearly welled up in his eyes.
From now on, he would have to be more careful.
This had all happened because he knew too little.
Lawrence knew nothing about the world within dreams.
This incident was no different.
Because he didn’t know, he had run straight into unknown danger.
He had vaguely thought that anything might be possible in dreams.
They were his dreams, after all.
He had never imagined there would be something so terrifying lurking there.
Deep inside him, a small seed had taken root.
The fear born from his meeting with the red eyes soon changed shape and became vigilance.
Now, when he dreamed, he no longer simply played around without a care.
He looked over the scenery before him as carefully as he could and memorized the faces of the fairy friends one by one.
Even so, trying harder did not mean communication suddenly became satisfactory.
He still could not understand everything the fairies who hovered around him normally said.
The ominous red eyes were the same.
When those serpentlike crimson eyes surfaced, he felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.
Still, it wasn’t as though all the news was bad.
There had been a theory he had cautiously formed.
When he was with the fairy friends, magic became easier to handle.
“Do you need our help? Are we playing together again today?”
“Okay. Just ask! We’re having fun too!”
He had forgotten.
The emotions the fairy friends expressed were always goodwill.
Thanks to them, Shadow had made tremendous progress over the past few days.
It could now maintain its shape even outside of a dream.
If someone asked whether it could last long, the answer was still uncertain.
Even so, Lawrence was satisfied.
Compared to when he had first begun, simply being able to call forth a form was remarkable enough.
If it had a shape, that meant it could be touched.
When he pushed an object with Shadow, he had even laughed out loud.
In the meantime, Saint Charmant Monastery had grown a little busier.
Word had come that the traveling priests would be visiting the monastery toward the beginning of summer.
* * *
“Traveling priests?”
“Didn’t the sister tell you? That first floor where we stay? It’s not really for hired help. It’s lodging for traveling priests.”
“Now that you mention it, I think I heard something about that.”
“You definitely forgot. And not from some other sister, either—Abeline must have told you.”
Trying to hide his embarrassment, Lawrence quickly steered the conversation away.
He couldn’t ask Joan or Edith about this sort of thing.
“So, what are traveling priests like?”
“You don’t even know that?”
Marjorie blinked at him as if he were hopeless.
“They’re clergy who wander all over the continent. If you’re thinking of joining the Order, going through the traveling priest route is mandatory. You know the priests who pray in the chapel every day? Why do you think they just study on the second floor after Mass ends? It’s all preparation for when they become traveling priests.”
Now it was Lawrence’s turn to be surprised.
He had thought that if one trained faithfully at a monastery, one would become a deacon or a parish priest.
“Then all the clergy on the second floor become traveling priests?”
“Half right. Half wrong.”
The girl, holding her potato soup, mumbled around a spoonful.
“To be exact, some become traveling priests and set out on pilgrimage, while others continue their training at monasteries or temples. Usually, the ones who go on pilgrimage are considered higher status. Those traveling priests are called pilgrims.”
“I understand the first part. Then aren’t the second kind the same as the clergy here at our monastery?”
“When you say things like that, Lawrence, you really do sound like an idiot.”
“Don’t say that. Just explain it to me.”
“They’re completely different. Those people are from our monastery, aren’t they? No matter how much they study and train here, they can’t become traveling priests. If they want to become one, they usually have to go to another monastery, prove their faith, and get a letter of recommendation.”
The girl frowned slightly as she went on.
“Think of it this way. It’s like saying, I worked hard at our monastery, and I’m vouching for them. Supposedly that’s usually done by a deacon or the head priest of that monastery. I don’t know the details, though. Just take it that way.”
So even clergy had plenty of things to worry about.
“Make sure you learn it well while you have the chance. So you won’t have a hard time later.”
“A hard time?”
“Yeah. Like it or not, you’re at a monastery. Someday you’ll probably end up serving in the Order. Wouldn’t it be better to know these things in advance?”
“Did you come to the monastery because you wanted to become a priest?”
Instead of answering, Lawrence tossed out a question of his own.
“Of course not. I hate that kind of cramped life.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“Apparently women who’ve lived in a monastery make popular brides.”
Marjorie shrugged.
* * *
A month later, five traveling priests visited Saint Charmant Monastery.
One of them was a pilgrim on the road.
His robe was stained with dirt and black crusts.
Beneath the robe fluttering in the wind, leather armor showed through.
A sword hung at his waist, and a crossbow rested across his back as well.
He had seen plenty of bows in the villages, but crossbows were rare.
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you, wanderer seeking the path.”
“May the Goddess’s blessing be with you.”
After the greetings were exchanged, the traveling priests headed for the first-floor corridor.
The hired workers became busier at once.
They skipped their usual cleaning duties and put all their effort into the matter of the traveling priests.
The fortunate thing was that the work wasn’t too demanding.
There was no need to prepare bathwater, for one thing.
Meals were brought down to the basement dining hall by the priests themselves.
Cleaning was the same.
Wiping the rooms down once before they arrived had been enough.
For about a week after their arrival, things stayed hectic.
Once monastery life settled back down, Lawrence returned to Shadow.
He had been so busy with cleaning that he hadn’t been able to practice magic for a while.
At most, he had managed a brief session or two before bed.
It would have been a lie to say it didn’t bother him.
Magic might not run away, but magical skill could.
A sword, if left in its sheath too long, would rust.
With the number of dreams recently having dropped, a quiet sense of impatience had begun to creep in.
He didn’t know why.
Was there some kind of condition for dreaming?
Lawrence might not know much, but he wasn’t stupid.
He also understood that the continuity of these dreams was no ordinary thing.
That was why he was being so careful about hiding the Shadow that had finally started learning to walk.
Be cautious in everything.
If his magic were exposed to others, there was no telling what might happen.
All the more so if it was magic that couldn’t even protect him on its own.
Fortunately, his ability to handle Shadow showed no signs of decline.
In fact, even after a few days off, it felt more skillful than before.
It was different from cleaning, which meant repeating the same chores over and over.
It was fun, making Shadow move exactly as he wanted.
By now, he could even make it go all the way around the room—from the door to the window—and back again without difficulty.
By the second week after the traveling priests arrived, Shadow had reached the level where it could carry a small object and run with it.
That day, the boy was able to dream in a very good mood.
Lawrence first looked around his surroundings.
The blue meadow and lake, and the fairy friends moving here and there, were now familiar to the point of feeling warm and comforting.
After the incident with the red eyes, checking the dream for safety had become a habit.
Fortunately, since that day he had not once fallen into some unknown place.
The forest that seemed to crawl with darkness.
The thorn thicket that had seemed to go on forever.
The red eyes wrapped in cloth.
None of them had appeared before Lawrence again.
But this was not something to dismiss lightly.
If he failed to stay alert, he wouldn’t be able to respond when it mattered.
“They’ll be here soon!”
“Get ready. Get ready to greet them!”
Yet the fairy friends seemed strangely busy.
“■■■■■■ ■■ too. Let’s greet them.”
The commotion continued until the fairies had gathered.
Once they assembled in the meadow, something began to grow.
Sprouts. Grass. Trees.
The trees that surged upward in an instant grew lush and tall.
They rose so high they nearly covered the sky.
What was astonishing was that this was not the end.
From the tree, trunks and body were woven together to form a single shape.
Its arms and legs were all tree branches.
Even the hair on its tree-branch head was made of blue leaves.
Whether this being could truly be called human was questionable, but there was no doubt it was beautiful in a strange, refined way.
The moment Lawrence faced it, a sudden headache struck.
A throbbing pain as if his skull might split open.
It was similar to the pain he had felt when he came face-to-face with the red eyes.
“Welcome, Your Majesty.”
“We greet Your Majesty.”
Your Majesty? The queen of the fairies?
Come to think of it, above her head of blue leaves sat a tiara-like flower crown.
“■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■. ■■ ■■ ■■?”
The pain worsened.
Just like with the red eyes, he couldn’t understand what she was saying.
“Yes! Everyone’s having fun. ■■■■ ■■ is here too!”
“Will Your Majesty play with us too? It’d be more fun if you joined us!”
“■■ ■■, ■■ ■■, ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■.”
At the fairies’ questions, the queen turned her gaze toward Lawrence.
The headache was so severe his head drooped.
Now he understood. This pain, this throbbing—it was a warning that came when he encountered certain beings.
The red eyes had not been trying to threaten him.
The fairy queen before him was the same.
Merely meeting her.
Merely hearing her voice.
His mind screamed in protest.
“■■■■ ■■. Are you hurt?”
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
The queen was the one who reached out a hand to help.
“■■■.”
A single flame bloomed.
The fire left a fierce trail through the darkening sky.
When he came to his senses, the headache that had been assaulting his mind was gone.
And the dream had vanished without a trace.
What remained was only Lawrence, drenched in sweat.
The boy sat up in bed and brought both hands together in front of him.
He had to remember it before he forgot.
The flame created by the fairy queen.
He had not been able to hear what she said, but he understood the movement of her lips.
What surfaced in his mind was a single spark rising from the darkness.
Back when he had drifted through back alleys.
The beginning of hope, waiting to escape the cold and the dark.
The light that announced morning had once again given him the courage to live.
“Fire.”
Like hope taking shape, a flame rose from his fingertips.
Compared with the fire the fairy queen had created, it was a feeble blaze.
Even so, he felt no disappointment.
Only joy filled his chest.
He had succeeded.
This was no accident.
He could use magic other than Shadow.
The realization made him happier than he could say.
This fire was different from the one used by the fairy queen.
It was smaller, and it didn’t seem nearly as hot.
Most of all, the flame was a dark red.
Fire was different from Shadow.
Shadow moved according to Lawrence’s will, but Fire was like a dog straining against its leash, running wherever it pleased.
If he made a mistake, the room would burn down around him.
With concentration stretched to its limit, he gripped Fire’s leash tightly.
That day, Lawrence forgot the dawn until the sky was already brightening, and he devoted himself to practicing Fire.
* * *
The biggest change that came with learning Fire was that he could bathe himself in warm water.
The method for heating water was simple.
All he had to do was heat one of the stones on the stand with Fire, and the preparation was done.
Drop the stone into the wooden tub filled with water, and it quickly turned hot.
Thanks to that, he could wash himself in warm water for as long as he wanted.
At first, he had doubted whether the water would really heat up.
The Fire he touched directly felt more warm than hot.
But all doubt vanished the moment he moved it to the ground.
Smoke rising. Flames spreading.
In short, Fire did not bite its master.
There was another piece of good news.
He thought it might be so. When he encountered unknown beings in dreams, his ability to handle magic also grew stronger.
The red eyes had been that way.
The fairy queen had been that way too.
At first, fear had kept him from thinking clearly, but now he had begun to feel that this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
When it came to using magic, the most important thing was pain.
Especially the headache that signaled his limits—it could rob him of ordinary thought.
It was not, in any flattering sense of the word, a pleasant experience.
When he had faced the red eyes, he had truly thought he was going to die.
And when he met the fairy queen, that same headache had been dreadful.
But in return, he had become better at controlling Shadow as well.
Shadow moved according to Lawrence’s gesture.
The hands and feet that had flowed smoothly forward now imitated the motions of a person.
The movements had become far more distinct.
If it was a leap forward, it was certainly one.
Still, compared with Fire, there was much to be dissatisfied with.
Right now, Fire was already proving useful in everyday life.
To put it bluntly, it could even light a dark room.
It could also heat water.
By contrast, Shadow still lacked strength and size.
He comforted himself with the thought that even if it was weak now, no one knew what it might become later—but lately even that certainty had begun to shake.
No, he shouldn’t compare them.
Fire had its own strengths.
Shadow had its own strengths.
What was lacking was not the magic, but Lawrence’s ability to handle it.
It was impossible to use Shadow and Fire together.
It wasn’t as though he had never tried.
But after a few failed attempts, he gave up.
To put it in simple terms, it was like trying to look left and right at the same time.
In plain language, that meant it wouldn’t work.
He shouldn’t be greedy.
Too much ambition only invited trouble.
He should be grateful just to manage what had been given to him.
Honestly, it was frustrating not having anyone to ask.
With no one to provide a clear answer to his questions, he had to move forward slowly, tapping each stone before crossing the river.
Still, he didn’t feel bad about it.
Encountering the unknown was enjoyable.
For now, learning about magic itself was simply and purely a joy.
* * *
As summer fully settled in, Blackwell called Lawrence to him.
“A novice priest?”
“Yes. I’d like to hear what you think.”
It was an unexpected proposal.
After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Lawrence answered cautiously.
“Um... could you give me a little time to think about it?”
“Of course. Let me see. A week should be enough, shouldn’t it? Think it over carefully and give me your answer.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Deacon.”
Leaving Blackwell’s room behind, Lawrence fell into thought.
A priest of the Holy Cross Order.
In some ways, that carried a sweetness to it not unlike the word mage.
For Lawrence, especially as an orphan, its meaning could hardly be small.
He had lived his entire life with nothing to lean on.
That had been true when he worked at the inn as well.
And it was true now, working at the monastery too—one word from someone above him, and he could be thrown right back onto the street.
That was Lawrence’s reality.
It wasn’t something he could simply change because he wanted to.
The difference in rank and origin had been something he understood since childhood.
He had not been the only one in the back alleys who looked up at Hilton Castle with envy.
Blackwell’s offer was an opportunity not easily grasped.
If the boy he had once been had received that proposal, he would have nodded without a second thought.
If he were a priest of the Order, he could stand tall and declare himself wherever he went.
Love and mercy.
Words that sounded simple enough, but the clergy of the Order had devoted their faith to them.
The rigors of priestly life were obvious enough.
Disciplined, austere living.
Service with no expectation of reward.
In truth, the ordeal was so harsh that some priests could not bear it and eventually left the monastery behind.
And yet, perhaps that was exactly why the Order’s ideals carried such force.
So why couldn’t he answer at once?
The week Blackwell had given him passed in an instant.
In the end, still unable to decide, Lawrence went to his room.
“You couldn’t decide?”
“I’m sorry.”
The boy bowed his head.
To that apology, full of worry and hesitation, Blackwell said,
“This isn’t the sort of decision one makes lightly. If anything, I’m glad to see you taking it seriously.”
“...You’re not disappointed?”
“Disappointed? Why would I be? Even if you can’t answer now, there’s no guarantee you’ll feel the same later.”
He rose and handed Lawrence a book from the back of the room.
“I’ll give you three days. Do your best to engrave it in your heart.”
“Three days?”
Lawrence repeated it in surprise.
The book he had been given was not the sort of thickness one could finish in three days.
He knew what it was, of course.
It was something clergy of the Order treasured more than their own lives.
The Holy Bible, bearing the teachings and doctrine of the Holy Cross Order.
“I’m not asking you to memorize every word.”
“Understood. I’ll do my best.”
He understood from Blackwell’s firm tone.
There was no room to refuse. Blackwell had already yielded a step, and now it was Lawrence’s turn to do the same.
Taking the Bible, the boy left Blackwell’s room.
The problem was that once he opened it again, the Bible proved far from easy.
After turning the first two pages, his head began to pound.
The pages were packed with difficult writing.
Even after learning letters from Marjorie, there were still dozens of words on every page that he could barely make sense of.
Still, he forced himself to hold the Bible and read it through, but on the first day he couldn’t get past twenty pages.
That alone was the result of his effort not to disappoint Blackwell with a sullen look.
Since the Bible was so hard to read, his mind kept drifting elsewhere.
Shadow and Fire kept coming back to him.
From that point on, Lawrence studied magic and the Bible side by side.
When Bible study became too hard, he practiced magic.
When his chest hurt, he returned to the Bible.
In the blink of an eye, the promised three days had passed.
“How was it?”
“I still don’t really know.”
In response to Blackwell’s question, Lawrence spoke his honest feelings.
The doctrine written in the Bible.
The words of the saints throughout history, and the great miracles they had performed.
It was far too early for him to understand all of it.
There was no way he could become a priest with a heart like this.
More than anything, it would be disrespectful to those who walked the path of faith.
“You don’t know, hm. Yes. I suppose that can be an answer as well. I’ve spent half my life reading and studying the Bible, and I still don’t fully understand what is right and what is wrong.”
Blackwell spoke as if he had read Lawrence’s thoughts.
“Our priest probably thinks the same way. How could we, mere servants, fully understand the will of the Goddess? We can only keep seeking it without end and keep striving forward.”
“And if, even then, I still can’t understand?”
“Even so, that’s fine. The steps taken toward enlightenment are already, in themselves, a great achievement. Just as you are now.”
It felt as though that answer was entwined with the present state of his own life.
So it was with the magic Lawrence had learned through his dreams.
A field of study where the unknown outnumbered the known by far.
There was no teacher to guide him, only the drift of a buoy upon a vast and unending sea.
Even so, the path he had traveled had meaning.
Shadow, drawn from the darkness and given form.
Fire, dark red, had already begun to blend into his daily life.
That was enough.
It felt as though Blackwell, and no one else, had told him so.
“It seems you have some dream already fixed in your heart.”
“That’s... I’m sorry.”
Through that short exchange, Lawrence came to understand his own heart.
He wanted to become a mage.