St. Pierre Monastery (1)
Lawrence took a bite of Frang Village’s famed herring pan-fried in butter.
This was the first time he had ever eaten a proper fish dish.
The herring, infused with the rich flavor of butter, melted softly on his tongue.
Delicious.
Yes. It was definitely delicious.
But Lawrence’s brow did not smooth out.
Luca, seated beside him, kept glancing at him with obvious caution.
By the time Lawrence returned to the inn at sunset, he had made no effort to hide his foul mood.
No—rather, he hadn’t hidden it at all.
He was so angry that nothing around him could get through.
The reason he only returned to the inn in the evening was because he had spent the entire time cleaning the monastery.
He had once lived in a monastery himself.
He simply could not stand by and watch one left to rot like a ruin.
What made him even angrier was that Yekaterina had stood there snickering as she watched him clean.
She hadn’t even offered to lend a hand.
Not even a single word about helping.
A woman like that could not possibly be a sister.
And much less someone affiliated with the Holy See.
There had to be some kind of mistake.
If it were up to him, he would have gone to the Holy See right then and there.
He wanted to verify whether Yekaterina truly belonged to it.
But realistically, that was impossible.
No one could say how long it would take to reach the Holy See, the so-called heart of the Church.
And even if he somehow managed to confirm it, by then Yekaterina would likely no longer be at St. Pierre Monastery.
He knew that.
That was why his anger, with nowhere to go, had risen all the way to the top of his head.
“Did something bad happen?”
Elvira took the seat beside him with cautious concern.
“I heard you went to St. Pierre Monastery.”
“Something unpleasant happened.”
“What kind of unpleasant thing? This is the first time I’ve seen Lawrence this angry.”
“It was just something deserving of that kind of reaction.”
No matter how angry he was, he couldn’t speak of the Church’s disgrace.
In the end, that would just be washing dirty laundry in public.
What happened within the Church should be settled within the Church.
...
Lawrence set his spoon down and let out a sigh.
Maybe there was some misunderstanding.
Yekaterina’s first impression had certainly been the worst.
And yet, what he saw today might not have been all there was to her.
Yes. Judging someone from a single side of themselves was a hasty generalization.
“Luca.”
“Yes, Lawrence.”
“I’m sorry. I’d like you to wait a little longer before we talk about the monastery.”
“Please don’t be. I still haven’t decided yet anyway.”
Luca lowered her head slightly.
“Oh? Were you thinking of making Luca a sister?”
“The decision is Luca’s. And going to a monastery doesn’t necessarily mean becoming a sister.”
Lawrence recalled what Marjorie had said.
“Women who live in a monastery tend to have a good reputation in many ways.”
That alone would be enough to erase the stain of her background, which might otherwise weigh her down.
“That’s a shame. I thought Luca wanted to become a gypsy.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. You have more talent than I expected when it comes to dancing and singing. I suggested it to you on the way here, but I guess you haven’t heard yet.”
Lawrence looked at Luca.
She lowered her head as though apologizing for not having said anything sooner.
“I’m sorry... You’ve been so busy lately, I never got the chance to tell you.”
“No, it’s fine. You received a good offer. Now you have one more option, so think it through carefully and decide in the end.”
“Yes. Thank you, Lawrence.”
Luca as a gypsy...
He couldn’t easily picture it, and yet somehow he felt it might suit her.
Whenever a small performance was held at the campsite, Luca would dance along awkwardly at first, slowly finding her rhythm with the others.
He remembered how awkward those movements had seemed when they first set out on the road, and how much more natural they looked now.
“But is this really how gypsies make offers?”
“Usually, they ask children whose identities are fairly certain. But Luca is an exception. I traveled with her and saw what kind of child she is. And I saw her talent too. The older sister is apparently planning to stay in Frang and make offers to a few people there, but I wonder whether she’ll actually find anyone decent.”
“Well... there do seem to be fewer children in the village.”
“That’s this world for you. More people leave for the cities, where there’s work, than stay in quiet little villages.”
But that very gap, Elvira added, was their opportunity.
“Think it over slowly. I’m pretty sure we’ll be staying in Frang for at least two months, so if you decide you want to become a gypsy, you can come with us. That goes for Lawrence too.”
“I’ll gratefully accept the thought.”
“Don’t say that. Really think about it. I’m making you a sincere offer.”
With a slight smile, Elvira rose from her seat.
* * *
He closed the spellbook.
Leaning back in his chair, Lawrence opened his eyes.
It had taken a very long time to get here.
Five books on literacy.
The time it took to decipher the spellbook.
He had read and reread it again and again until he finally understood it.
Even if he had been on an escort request, whenever he sat in the carriage he had hardly let himself rest for even a moment.
At last, it was time to see the results of all that effort.
Sitting at the desk, Lawrence extended his hand.
“Water.”
He uttered the trigger word.
The image that rose in his mind was of clean water.
The fact that he could form a clear image of it was largely thanks to the sea he had seen today.
An expanse impossible to compare with an ordinary lake.
Its sheer breadth even overshadowed the river that drained it.
The ocean stretching beyond the horizon was the perfect mental image for mastering Water.
A small bead of liquid floated up over his palm.
Compared to his other spells, it wasn’t very large.
Smaller than Fire.
About the size of his fist, give or take.
Maintaining it was no easy task either.
Keeping Water stable was strangely similar to Holy Shield.
He had done it.
Joy he couldn’t hide lit Lawrence’s eyes.
And no wonder.
For the first time since learning magic, he had successfully mastered a spell on his own, without any help from the neighbors in the Spirit World.
This droplet was small, but it represented a great step forward.
At the thought, a swelling emotion filled his chest.
Seizing the moment, he tried applying the same technique he had used to strengthen Shadow.
He drew mana from deep within his chest.
As mana poured into Water, its size gradually grew.
From a fist-sized sphere to something close to a human head.
But that was its limit.
The moment his concentration slipped, Water fell onto the desk.
“Huff. Huff.”
He sucked in air.
It wasn’t quite bad enough to make his chest hurt yet, but there was no denying the strain on his body.
This wasn’t a mana problem.
This was a matter of mental stamina.
Lawrence had been escorting all the way until this hour.
On top of that, he had worn himself out cleaning the monastery, so his condition was far from normal.
“Water.”
It wasn’t a fluke.
Seeing the sphere of water rise again, a smile tugged at Lawrence’s lips.
The water moving in response to his gesture was rather slow, probably because of its mass.
Compared to Fire or Shadow, it felt heavy and sluggish.
He had already confirmed that the larger the shape became, the more difficult it was to maintain.
Next came the use he had been most curious about.
Bringing Water to his mouth, Lawrence took a sip.
Refreshing.
The taste was perfectly normal, so he swallowed it all in one go.
He rested a hand on his stomach and checked his condition.
The water that had gone down his throat had soaked into his body.
He didn’t feel thirsty anymore.
From now on, he would no longer need to worry about water.
That alone made learning Water worthwhile.
* * *
In the early dawn, Lawrence headed to St. Pierre Monastery.
Even though spring was approaching, the sea breeze blowing in at daybreak was still cold.
He had left his brigandine behind.
His clothes were simple now: only his vestment and surplice.
It was a little chilly for the moment, but once the sun came up he would be sweating soon enough.
Yekaterina was nowhere to be seen in front of the chapel.
Good.
He had no desire to run into her first thing in the morning for no reason.
He laid a hand lightly on the chapel door.
It was locked.
Even pressing his ear to it, he heard no prayer that should have been drifting from inside.
It really did seem there were no other clergy at the monastery besides her.
Then what about the underground level?
In other monasteries, there would usually be a bathhouse and a refectory.
...
After staring at the stairs for a moment, Lawrence shook his head.
What good was the basement if the chapel itself was empty?
For now, the priority was dealing with the garden.
Rolling up his sleeves, Lawrence began pulling weeds out one by one.
Where he could solve the problem with his hands, he used his hands.
Where the vegetation had tangled and overgrown into something vicious, he used magic.
“Fire.”
One burst of flame was enough to burn away all the filthy grass.
The problem was controlling its intensity.
The smoke that rose was another issue, and there was also the drawback of having to put the fire out again with Water afterward.
But he had no choice.
If he didn’t do it this way, insect nests and waste would be left behind as they were. Lawrence’s pride would not allow such a half-hearted cleanup.
At first, before he had gotten the hang of it, his efficiency was poor.
But by the time three or four hours had passed, his hands were moving with practiced ease.
It had been a long time, but Lawrence had been in charge of cleaning consistently since he was a child.
The know-how buried deep in his body did not vanish so easily.
Above all, the fact that he could use magic was a tremendous advantage.
Thanks to Water, there was no need to haul buckets from the well below the hill.
One use of Fire was enough to clear away the gathered vegetation.
Simply reducing the repetitive labor made everything far easier.
On top of that, he was training his magic at the same time; it was the very definition of killing two birds with one stone.
By the time lunch approached, he had managed to clean up about half the garden.
“Oh-ho. Not bad. To think you’ve managed to tidy up a garden that was practically a pigsty.”
As the sun rose, Yekaterina finally showed her face.
As usual, she didn’t lift a single finger to help with the cleaning.
He knew it. He hadn’t expected anything to begin with.
He had decided it was enough if she simply stayed out of the way.
“You were Lawrence, right? Are you sure you’re not a gardener instead of a pilgrim?”
“A monastery is a space open to the faithful as well. Cleaning is basic training for all clergy.”
“Is that so? How unfortunate for me. I don’t have that kind of training. If you mean the training to make a mess, then maybe.”
...
She didn’t need to say it. He already knew.
She had gone through more cigarettes than he could count.
There was no other way to put it: she was a chain smoker.
Still, after he placed an ashtray for her, she stopped flicking cigarette butts onto the corridor floor.
Lawrence took out the packed lunch he had brought from the inn.
It contained pan-fried herring with butter, grapes, rye bread, and milk.
He held one portion out toward Yekaterina.
“Hm? What’s this?”
“Haven’t you eaten yet? Please, have some.”
“Do you maybe have a thing for me?”
“If you don’t want it, don’t eat it.”
“Ahaha. Just kidding. I don’t turn down free food.”
Taking the lunchbox, she speared the butter-fried herring with her fork.
Then she moved it over into Lawrence’s lunchbox.
“Don’t you like fish?”
“No. I just don’t want to eat fish from this village.”
Yekaterina brought a grape to her mouth.
“And what’s with the milk? We’re not children. Next time, bring wine instead. If you’re clergy, shouldn’t you be drinking the goddess’s holy blood?”
He frowned despite himself.
Holy blood was not something to throw around so flippantly.
The blood flowing from the stigmata left behind by the Goddess.
The sacred blood governing all miracles could only flow from the stigmata of a saint—or a holy maiden—within the Church.
Just as it had at Saint Dominic Monastery.
Since such precious holy blood could not be used in an ordinary monastery, consecrated wine was taken out and treated as a substitute.
He understood what Yekaterina was getting at.
What she meant was that if one was going to drink something, alcohol was better than milk.
“I prefer milk.”
“You’ve probably drunk enough of it in the Church to be sick of it, haven’t you? And yet you still want to drink more? You’re a truly impossible little freak.”
...
For a moment Lawrence was at a loss for words.
He never would have dreamed that he’d hear “impossible” from a sister who didn’t even resemble one.
“Why? Are you mad?”
Yekaterina asked, baring her sharp teeth.
“Yes. I’m angry.”
“Good. Better to get angry than bottle it up. Holding it in will make you sick. Especially for someone as smart as you.”
Whatever about that answer pleased her, she laughed.
“Can I ask you one thing?”
“I don’t have a lover yet, but I don’t take brats.”
“Do you act like this about everything?”
Before he could stop himself, his real feelings slipped out.
“Hmm... so I do, huh? If I’m being honest, I guess I’m kind of cute. But you’re still too young. Come back in another five years or so, and I might consider it. For now, let’s call it a holding pattern.”
...
He wondered what on earth she was talking about, but it was just a continuation of the lover nonsense.
Lawrence stared at Yekaterina.
There was her unusually striking chest, for one thing.
And if he looked only at her face, he would have to admit she was beautiful.
If Cedric were here, he would probably have spun in place and offered her a song on the spot.
That much he could not deny.
But he could not think of a disreputable sister like this in those terms.
It felt foolish even to deal with her.
This time, he said what was on his mind.
“Is there no holy site around here?”
“Didn’t you say you’d only ask one thing?”
“I said that out of politeness.”
“Sure, sure. Since I’m your senior, I guess I should understand. But didn’t I already answer that on the first day?”
After taking a sip of milk, she went on.
“I told you there’s no pilgrimage route around here.”
“What does there being no pilgrimage route have to do with there being no holy site?”
“Are you stupid? The holy site is at the end of the pilgrimage route. I just told you there isn’t one.”
...
Lawrence realized his mistake.
For an ordinary holy site, Yekaterina was right.
It was common sense that a holy site lay at the end of a pilgrimage route.
But what Lawrence was searching for was the Lost Sanctuary.
It could be at the end of a pilgrimage route—or somewhere with no pilgrimage route at all.
“Or maybe what you’re looking for isn’t an ordinary holy site.”
As if she knew everything already, she bared her sharp teeth.
“I won’t say anything nasty. Consider this the price of your lunch. Don’t look for the holy site in this village. If possible, you’d be better off leaving the village in the near future. I’m telling you this for your own good.”
She licked the grape juice from her fingers.
“Thank you. So, in short, you’re saying there is a Lost Sanctuary.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I told you not to look for it.”
“If you mean to say it’s dangerous, I understand that already. But there’s no need to worry.”
“This isn’t worry. It’s advice. I’m saying that with your level of magic, you won’t stand a chance.”
Lawrence didn’t look surprised.
She was smoking cigarettes right here in front of him.
She must have seen him use magic over and over while cleaning.
“The magic I can use isn’t limited to this.”
“You really are thick-headed, aren’t you? I went out of my way to tell you this for your own good, since you’re a cute little junior. Or what, are you some kind of martyr hopeful too?”
Yekaterina clicked her tongue.
“Say what you want. I’m still going to find the holy site. Instead of trying to stop me outright, shouldn’t a senior tell a junior what to be careful of?”
“Look at you. Now you’re trying to lecture me outright. You’re unbelievably shameless. Fine. Say any more and you’ll just make my mouth hurt.”
As if to say she was done talking, she fell silent.
---