Chapter 5
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Priest Roberta
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Bind me?
Roberta asked instinctively.
“Why?”
“Because I haven't just lived a long time.”
She was about to grumble about him bringing up his age again when a strong gust of wind blew the door open with a rattle. When she looked over, she saw little kids peeking their heads in from the tent entrance. They were spying on the two of them with sparkling eyes.
“It seems our conversation has gone on for too long.”
Ulrich smiled at the children, his eyes crinkling.
“Well, that's enough talk. Let's get up.”
She looked up at him for a moment before standing. At the same time, she shook her head to clear the thoughts swirling within her. Almost none of her questions had been answered. Instead, they had only multiplied. Her mind was a frustratingly complicated mess.
But she decided not to press further. It was hard to accept, but she had no other choice for now. Whether he was an imposter or the real lord, how he could perform a sacrament without being ordained, what had happened with her predecessor—his attitude suggested she wouldn't get a clear answer even if she asked.
*It's fine. I have plenty of time, anyway.*
There was no need to rush. Hadn't Alonso said as much?
Her only duty was to fulfill her responsibilities as the head priest.
She had just been assigned to Dithmarschen. Unless the Pantheon ordered her to be reassigned, she would be staying for at least ten years. She could afford to wait for the truth to come from the lord's own lips during that time.
Ulrich stepped out of the tent and gathered the people who were resting.
“We will resume the Infant Sacrament.”
As soon as he spoke, they each took an infant in their arms and gathered around him.
*Let's see what you're hiding.*
Roberta was reluctant to entrust the sacrament to someone who wasn't a priest, but she decided to watch quietly. She had already seen the sacrament performed without issue, and she thought she might find a clue if she observed.
And if a problem did arise, she, an ordained priest, was there.
*Come to think of it.*
Suddenly, Roberta looked around and realized something.
Aren't there usually rites that must be observed for a sacrament?
“Are you proceeding just like this? With the sacrament?”
Even as she asked, she retraced her memory. Had there been a brazier when Ulrich performed the Infant Sacrament earlier? No, there hadn't been. He had performed it without so much as a wisp of smoke.
“That is the plan.”
“At least make some smoke and prepare the scented oil.”
“Why?”
Why? She blinked.
“Because... that's the rite. To honor Lord Hestio and ensure the sacrament is performed safely. If the proper rites aren't observed, the name might not be properly recorded in the heavenly register.”
Her voice trembled with bewilderment as she answered.
When the gods built their palaces in the heavens and dwelt there, among them was Ganymea. This god had an adopted son, and his name was Hestio.
One day, Hestio looked down from the heavens upon the earth and saw a group of humans huddled in a cave, seeking shelter from the rain. In those days, the dwarves and elves had built sacred civilizations, but humans had only just come down from the trees and begun to wander.
Hairless apes who didn't even know how to make fire and were prone to freezing to death when the weather turned cold—that was what humans were in those times.
Hestio gave fire to the shivering humans huddled together, allowing them to endure the cold, and after the rain stopped, he taught them various skills.
Ever since, when performing ceremonies like the sacraments, humans established several rites to honor Hestio and receive his blessing. A prime example was lighting a fire at the beginning of a sacrament and extinguishing it at the end to create smoke.
“The word 'honor' is wrong.”
Ulrich shook his head.
“Pardon?”
“Not 'honor,' but 'summon.' That's the correct term.”
*More strange talk.*
He continued, heedless of her feelings.
“The reason you make smoke—or rather, the reason you light a fire and then put it out—was to summon Hestio. Because when the fire went out, Hestio would come down again and light it for them. He taught them how to make fire, but it wasn't an easy thing to do.”
“...”
“He thought he was saving them the trouble by coming down to light the fire each time, but the humans back then interpreted it differently. They thought, 'If we put out the fire, that being will come.' So whenever they wanted to find Hestio, they would put out the fire to make smoke.”
It couldn't be helped, since it was a time when language was still crude, Ulrich added.
“I told Alonso the same thing.”
She had never heard that.
“Making smoke, anointing with oil, immersing oneself in water—all those rites were created in such a way. But think about it. What meaning is there in an act the gods never taught you to perform? You think this sort of thing helps the sacrament?”
He followed up in the tone of a teacher lecturing a student, saying, 'Humans are merely using the legacy of the gods without understanding the principles behind it,' and 'That is why they cling to utterly meaningless acts, dressing them up under the name of rites.'
She couldn't bring herself to interrupt him, instead giving him a look with a slight frown, but he finished saying his piece anyway. Roberta narrowed her eyes and asked.
“You haven't forgotten that I am a priest, have you?”
“I'm well aware.”
“And you say such things, knowing that?”
He scratched under his chin with his thumb and looked down at her.
“So? Are you going to have me arrested as a heretic?”
“...”
She pressed her lips together.
She couldn't refute him. She had no intention of doing anything to him. To be honest, her curiosity outweighed her concern. A devout priest would have had a fit over his behavior, but she was different.
After all, wasn't it common in the world of men for people to walk the path of the clergy while harboring worldly desires? She was just such a person.
Just like Alonso, who had recommended her.
And Ulrich had seen right through that.
“Watch. See if I'm wrong.”
He took a baby from another young man.
The child was sleeping so soundly it didn't even know it had left its parent's arms. Ulrich gently stroked the baby's head and touched his forehead to its own. Then, a light shone.
Just like the baby Roberta had seen before, the light emanated from the forehead and spread throughout its entire body. Even seeing it for the second time, she was filled with admiration.
*Aside from ignoring the rites, it's perfect.*
If one were to check the baby's pulse, they would feel a faint flow of mana from it. Mana was circulating within its body just as blood flowed through its veins, a sign that the Infant Sacrament had been perfectly completed.
“Is there really no problem?”
Ulrich didn't answer yes.
“Try it yourself.”
Instead, he handed her a child who had not yet received the sacrament.
“Perform the sacrament for all the children here, without the rites. After you're done, check for yourself if there are any children whose names haven't been registered. Then you might be able to believe my words a little.”
She looked down, and the child in her arms looked up at her and giggled. It was so cute it made her want to grin foolishly. She stroked the child's head, just as Ulrich had done.
But she did not touch her forehead to the child's. For a fleeting moment, she hesitated, wondering if she should try performing the sacrament without the rites. An impulse jeered at her from within, *You didn't stop an unordained man from performing the sacrament, so what's the point of holding back now?* but it failed to move her to action.
Even if she had become a priest out of worldly desire, a priest was still a priest. Her faith might not be deep, but she trusted in the rites. And was it truly rational to cast aside rites that had been practiced for thousands of years without side effects, swayed by the words of some eccentric man?
“That won't be necessary.”
She spoke firmly and returned the child to its parent.
“I will follow the rites of the Pantheon. I am only letting you finish this time because you started the ceremony, my lord. From now on, I will preside over all sacraments.”
“Do as you wish. If that is what you want.”
He readily agreed.
“But know this. Alonso did it too.”
Roberta frowned at his words.
“Lord Alonso never taught me this method.”
As she spoke with defiance, he gave a faint smile. It was the first time he had smiled in front of her, but there was no joy in it. Nor was it a smirk. She felt it was a smile tinged with pity.
“In the land of the one-eyed, one has no choice.”
#
After the sacrament, there was a feast.
In a world with a high infant mortality rate, it was not uncommon for a family line to end even after having three children. Dithmarschen, in particular, had a harsher environment than other regions, one that even adults struggled to endure.
Because of this, it was said that a child was not considered a life until it was old enough to receive the Infant Sacrament. But how could that be, after carrying a child in the womb for a year? The parents hugged their babies after the sacrament, unable to contain their overflowing joy as they smiled.
The people of the domain gathered in a large tent. It was more than ten times the size of the tent where Roberta had spoken privately with Ulrich. A feast was laid out inside, and a stove had been set up just like the other, warming the tent to its very corners.
Seated around the stove, the adults stood up in comical attire and began to sing and dance in a circle. Children ran between them, making a ruckus.
“Ugh...”
Roberta stuck out her tongue at the pine pollen tea and shuddered. It was a taste she could never get used to, no matter how much she drank. Even the locals, who must have drunk it their whole lives, seemed unable to adapt; there wasn't a single person who wasn't grimacing.
*It's strange that he can drink it so calmly.*
She glanced at Ulrich.
Since they were sitting in a circle, there was no real seat of honor, but elderly men had taken the spots on either side of Ulrich.
From his seat, quite a distance from her, he would occasionally nod and smile at the old men chattering beside him, sipping the pine pollen tea as lightly as if it were plain water.
She had wanted to finish their conversation, but it seemed there would be no opportunity today. She licked her lips, hesitated, then took another sip of the tea. A shiver ran through her.
“Priest.”
A voice cut through the noise.
“Are you tired?”
An old man approached her side and gave a silent bow. It was the same elder who had led the two of them to the tent when she sought to speak with Ulrich alone. He had introduced himself as Brase, an elder of the clan.
“Yes, it was a long journey.”
“Shall I prepare a separate place for you to rest?”
“No, it's not that bad.”
When she shook her head, the elder nodded in understanding and sat down.
“Is there something else?”
“Please do not push him too hard.”
She sighed inwardly, thinking, *as I expected*.
“I haven't pushed him at all.”
The pitch of her voice rose unintentionally.
“I apologize if I have offended you.”
The elder bowed his head and offered her a cup. It was wine. When she tasted it, she was surprised by its depth of flavor. It was a high-quality vintage, the kind rarely tasted even at the Grand Temple.
“The master gave it to me as a gift long ago.”
“Is that so?”
She took another sip. She felt her mouth pucker and thought it was a shame to just drink it down. It couldn't possibly be brewed in this environment, so where did he get it from? How much would it cost? And he gave it as a gift?
“I was sixteen. I went hunting with the adults, but we ended up being the ones hunted by a monster. I put the injured adults on a sled and fled, and Lord Ulrich praised my bravery and gave it to me as a gift.”
Brase's face was covered in wrinkles. Even considering that nomads age faster than their years, he had to be over sixty. That meant she was drinking wine that was at least fifty years old.
“You've kept it well.”
“The lord kept it for me. As you know, we are a wandering people. We don't know much about wine. At best, we just chug the distilled spirits sent from the south to warm our bodies.”
The elder refilled Roberta's cup.
“When I received this, a thought occurred to me. Just as I felt when I, having come of age, saw the wooden horse I rode as a child, I decided to drink this when my life was nearing its end.”
She paused as she was about to tilt her cup.
“And today, he returned it to me.”
She couldn't mistake the meaning of his words. As she faced him, her smile gone, the elder chuckled and said it was a sort of trip down memory lane.
“To be honest, this old man had forgotten. It's been half a century, hasn't it? I can barely remember what I did yesterday, let alone something from so long ago. But he remembered. I was so surprised when I received the bottle! The moment I saw it, the memory of that day came flooding back.”
The elder's gaze left her and sought out Ulrich.
He was just getting up from his seat. Perhaps he felt their gazes. He glanced at her and the elder for a brief moment before leaving his spot.
“It is only natural that you are suspicious, Priest. You must have many questions. Is someone pretending to be the lord? How can a human maintain such youth? Is he connected to an evil god? The priests who were here before, and the ones before them, all had their doubts. It cannot be helped. You priests are different from us.”
“Different?”
“Yes. Different. You have just been appointed as the head priest here. This is the first time you have seen him. But we have grown up seeing him, ever since our own Infant Sacraments. To us, it is natural that his time flows differently from ours.”
“Have you never thought it strange?”
“Before I answer that question, I would like to ask you something first.”
Elder Brase looked at the empty spot where Ulrich had been sitting.
“If a person could live for a very long time, if this person were a being beyond aging and death, and if they possessed greater wisdom, patience, and virtue than others, and if your ancestors had served this person for generations... what would you think?”