Saint Marygold (5)
The streets buzzed with festive excitement everywhere.
“Hear ye, hear ye! The knight tournament is upon us!”
The Imperial Knight Tournament. Rodnis's grandest spectacle in over a decade. Talk of it had long since dominated every corner of the city. With fights to watch and bets to place, how could anyone not get swept up in the hype? And the stars of the show weren't some local thugs—they were renowned knights. From kids to housewives, everyone had a stake in it.
“This is our chance to see who the empire's top knight really is, beyond all the trash talk.”
Knights who usually dodged such events had nowhere to hide after the imperial archbishop's decree: All pilgrimage members must participate!
Who is the empire's greatest knight?
Public curiosity was shifting that way. And it was around then that Marygold's days grew relentlessly busy.
Fallen Lady Simulation
Creating schedule for Week 4 of June.
Mon - Church Etiquette Training
Tue - Saintess Church Prayer Meeting
Wed - Art Piece Modeling
Thu - Art Piece Modeling
Fri - Horsemanship 'Beginner' (Location: Mansion)
Sat - Horsemanship 'Beginner' (Location: Fallow Fields)
Sun - Monster Hunt Escort (Location: Forest)
※ What a hectic week! If the goddess is watching, she'll surely bless our diligent Marygold, right?
[Monday. Church Etiquette Training]
Thwack.
“Eek.”
Marygold flinched as something hard landed on the crown of her head. A thick book. And atop it, a teacup was gently placed.
“Don't drop it.”
Hestie adjusted Marygold's posture with her hands.
“Chin up. Tuck your chin and walk calmly. Keep your shoulders down.”
“Ugh, ah—ah!”
Marygold stumbled forward and nearly face-planted. A large hand caught her just in time.
“Lan……”
She started to say Lancel-nim, then switched mid-sentence.
“Lancel, Holy Knight.”
“That title's embarrassing.”
“You told me to call you……”
Marygold's voice rose unconsciously before she caught herself and lowered it in a fluster.
“……that.”
“Of course, Mary.”
“Feels like you're teasing me.”
“Just your imagination, Mary.”
Marygold awkwardly smoothed her bangs. She still wasn't used to Lancel demanding formality from her. Every time, she'd twist her torso to hide her expression.
“Let's try again. Straighten your posture.”
“Y-yes!”
Under Hestie's guidance, Marygold's posture training dragged on all day.
[Tuesday. Saintess Church Prayer Meeting]
Rodnis Capital and its outskirts already boasted eleven Saintess Churches. They were little more than spaces with a lone saintess statue, where passersby could pop in and pray whatever they pleased.
“Make a sack of gold coins drop right in front of me!”
No one scolded them for it. Still, a church was a church. Marygold visited them whenever she could, sharing the prayers she'd learned with the people.
“O dawn-piercing god of morning light. We thank you for the encounters you have blessed us with today. May your blessings ever be upon all our neighbors.”
“May your blessings ever be upon us.”
To the illiterate masses who thought church was just for rambling whatever, Marygold was like a teacher. A week. Two weeks. A month. Two months. Lancel watched as they gradually warmed to her.
Dozens of letters arrived daily at the mansion—on paper, clay, wooden tablets, you name it. No need to read them; all were professions of adoration for Marygold.
“Already a celebrity, huh, Mary.”
“……”
Marygold just blushed at Lancel's teasing. In every village she visited, young folks and kids lined up to greet her. It hadn't even been a few months.
“The gods are unkind, blinding such a lady.”
“Nonsense. Those sightless eyes are what make Saintess Mary so divine.”
Lancel figured it was her appearance in pristine white robes. The mystique in her serene, closed-eyed gait and gestures. Even he, dulled by centuries to women, occasionally lost himself in her. With Hestie's etiquette lessons polishing her poise, she practically glowed with a halo.
“Holy Knight Lancel. Where are you?”
“……”
Backlit by the setting sun, Marygold wandered the field. Lancel felt a pang of nostalgia, reminded of someone from long ago. He approached quietly and took her hand.
“Mary. Time to head back to the mansion.”
“I thought you'd vanished.”
Lancel chuckled at her teary eyes. She really seemed miffed—her chatter was quieter that day.
[Wednesday-Thursday. Art Piece Modeling]
Bam!
“Nooo! My artwork! My life's masterpiece!”
The statue toppled from Lancel's kick, shattering. A head resembling Marygold rolled to the workshop corner.
“Who said to sculpt someone you fancy? I told you quiet and demure.”
“Y-you knight! No sense of aesthetics, worse than street thugs! That statue you smashed was a masterpiece for the ages of this empire—no, the continent!”
“If you're unhappy, dress it up. Why leave a perfectly good statue naked?”
“Eep!”
Marygold startled at Lancel's growl. Now she got it. The sculptor's eyes darted away from Lancel.
“……Eros is art……”
“Pursuing eros in church art? You're the devil.”
“What can I do? If my artistic soul is demonic, that's fate!”
Lancel grabbed the sculptor's beard.
“Aaaah! My hair!”
“Fix it properly and deliver, or I'll sell you as a devil worshiper.”
“F-fine, fine……!”
That night.
“Holy Knight, um……did you see it closely?”
“Sure.”
Lancel answered without hesitation.
“How could I not see what's right there?”
“……”
Marygold backed away silently. He just didn't want to lie.
[Friday. Horsemanship 'Beginner' - Mansion]
“Don't be scared.”
“Hah……hah……eek!”
The horse's snort turned Marygold's face ghostly pale from morning. To the blind, it must feel like a monster.
“C-can someone like me really ride this?”
“Great steeds know their masters.”
“Kyaa!”
He yanked her up to sit in front.
“See? Nothing to it. Pet it—don't freeze up.”
Her trembling hand stroked the mane. White coat, golden mane. Reckless for the blind, but this steed was perfect—worthy of being her eyes and legs.
“What do you think? Best in my stable.”
“Let's take it for a quick spin.”
“Whenever.”
Lancel gripped the reins at Baron Ivil Shen's smug grin.
“Let's go, nice and slow.”
Clop clop. As the horse ambled leisurely, Marygold pressed close. Her terror showed in her flushed ears.
“Shall we pick up the pace?”
Marygold's startled shriek trailed far behind the horse.
[Saturday. Horsemanship 'Beginner' - Fallow Fields]
“Already a year, huh.”
Wild grasses swayed across the endless wheat horizon. Lancel and Marygold rode through the empty fields for a good while. She'd grown accustomed, her hand now confidently on the reins beside his.
Horsemanship 'Beginner' mastered.
Marygold now senses the horse's emotions a little.
With you by her side, even open plains hold no fear.
Protagonist buff, as expected.
Mastering riding in just two days. Blind, no less. Pure talent.
“You don't ask.”
Lancel's sudden words carried weight. Marygold seemed to understand.
“I was happy.”
“About what?”
“Being helpful to you.”
Master.
“……”
How many lives had Marygold lived by now? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Dozens of times, each slightly different, in varied forms—yet something unchanging persisted.
Lancel was different. Each awakening brought a reshaped self. Whittled down to something mechanical. Endless time, yet he'd slowly lose his ego—it was only a matter of when. He'd hit breaking points many times. Before finding the 'answer' named Marygold.
Open Marygold's eyes.
Not for her. For himself.
You have to see for me to live.
What would she say?
“……”
Lancel felt he already knew.
“Time to head back. I'm starving.”
“Okay.”
11.
The pilgrimage's misdeeds were music to Lancel's ears. His task: Plant not one or two, but 200 Saintess Churches across the land.
Key to that? Spreading the word……marketing, or more elegantly, evangelism.
Saintess Churches are all the rage!
Really? I can't resist a trend!
Building them solo, he'd be lucky to hit fifty. But if others built them?
No need for his money, time, or effort. Lancel saw potential.
“The answer's rivalry.”
He'd dominate the pilgrimage's emotions from here on. The upcoming knight tournament would be perfect for it. Prime evangelism tool.
* * *
The pilgrimage camp murmured. Knights, local guides, priests from various orders crowded the forest edge, prepping to exterminate local monsters.
All eyes locked on the sudden arrival: a golden-haired woman with a pure white blindfold. Unshaken, she rode straight in. Her unprecedented look drew stares.
“What?”
Pilgrimage leader Duke Mayril Dunn spoke.
“Who might you be?”
The man beside her answered.
“Why carry a sword into monster woods if not to hunt, Your Grace?”
“Didn't get the memo to state your name, eh? Young fool……”
“Lancel Dante.”
He cut the duke off. Dunn's glare sharpened, but Lancel ignored it.
“Knight of the Saintess Church. This is our temple head and high priestess, Priestess Mary.”
Murmurs spread.
“That Lancel Dante from the tournament qualifiers?”
“The hick who passed prelims……”
“Saintess Church? Never heard of it.”
Lancel Dante's name rang bells—mostly as 'frontier bumpkin' or 'minor cult knight'.
Dunn sneered.
“No need for other orders on a monster hunt. Begone.”
“Let us help. Priestess Mary had a bad premonition last night—hence our haste. No need to be so harsh?”
Dunn's face twisted.
“Bad omen from the start……”
He wanted to yell them off, but sending away a 'priestess' with foreboding felt off. Same god, different orders or not.
“If you hinder, you're out. Got it?”
“We won't get in the way, Your Grace.”
“All talk. Viscount Dante must be exhausted. Tsk tsk.”
Dunn turned away, tongue clicking. Lancel was irrelevant—pilgrimage safe, no glory stolen.
But something went wrong. From forest entry, oddities plagued them.
“Priestess Mary, bless me.”
“I bestow the saintess's protection.”
The blindfolded priestess reached toward Lancel, eyes closed, sword gripped.
“Lancel Dante, you are stronger now.”
A soft glow emanated from him. Mysterious mana enveloped his body, bright enough to light the dim woods.
“Ahh, the saintess's grace……”
Lancel's face lit with ecstasy. The pilgrimage watched, baffled.