Chapter 6
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Priestess Roberta
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#
Roberta left the tent. As she let out a long sigh, her breath plumed in the air before scattering. The alcohol had brought a flush to her face and a warmth to her body, but the night wind made her shiver. The weather felt more like early winter than summer.
‘So I’m going to be living here from now on.’
She sighed again, bowing her head.
“Ah, I hate this.”
The words escaped her unconsciously.
There was a lord whose true intentions were impossible to fathom. And that wasn't all. The head priest appointed by His Holiness the Pope had gone missing, and no matter how she looked at it, the lord was involved.
On top of that, he'd lived for hundreds of years but looked her age, wasn't even a priest yet performed the Infant Sacrament on a whim, and even succeeded.
Her head was so cluttered with thoughts it felt like it would explode.
The most dreadful part was that this was only the first day.
‘How many years was Lord Alonso here?’
A head priest's term was usually ten years. Sometimes, it became a lifelong post. Of course, that was rare, as an extended term could corrupt them into something like a secular ruler.
‘I really hate this.’
She kicked at a stone embedded in the ground with her right foot.
‘Everyone just says what they want to say. What am I supposed to do?’
She put more force into her kick. The deeply embedded stone flew out with a thud, soaring into the distance before landing in the dirt. Or rather, it must have. It was late at night, so the stone was invisible, and the sound was lost in the wind.
She pulled her outer garment tighter and looked at the night scenery.
There wasn't much of a scene to speak of. The sky was overcast, hiding even the moon. What could she possibly see? The landscape before her was a darkness so complete it made no difference whether her eyes were open or closed.
And a sight like this always sent her into contemplation. With her eyes resting, her mind began to wander needlessly, and she recalled her conversation with Elder Brase, which she had momentarily forgotten.
Stories of felling a giant larger than three strong men with a whip, helping a snow elf bring summer, or entering a sleeping dragon's lair—they were all absurd, but interesting. Though they always ended with praise for Lord Ulrich.
‘Lord Alonso used to tell similar stories, too.’
Roberta recalled her conversation with the elder.
She had listened intently, sipping continuously from her cup. When the wine ran out and she started downing cheap spirits, the elder's voice gradually lost its strength. His eyes still held a spark, but his body couldn't keep up with his spirit, and his voice began to crack.
- Look.
That's when the elder had concluded his words to her.
- I will live for little more than half a century before returning to the earth, but my master will live for longer than our clan has served him. And he will look after my grandson, who received the sacrament today, just as he taught me with the same hands that taught my ancestor the bow. He will do so forever, as long as we serve him.
Roberta understood the elder's words.
‘I don't particularly sympathize, but I understand.’
Such claims were not uncommon. Even though three ages of man had passed, the non-human races had not died out. Dwarves and elves, those other races, had merely lost their former influence. Each was carrying on its own history.
That was why half-breeds were sometimes born, or why pure-blooded dwarves and elves sometimes stood above humans. The elder's ancestor may have lived three hundred years ago, but the ancestor of a clan that served elves could be from over a thousand years ago.
History could be a tedious shackle for humans, but at times, it could also be a driving force. Just as the Cormillius Family, which claimed the first emperor as its founder, held the sole right to elect the Pope based on that history.
So if that history belonged not to a nation or a family, but to a single person's life, wouldn't the feelings toward him become as heavy as faith itself?
Roberta let out a short laugh.
‘Forever? How nice would that be, if it were possible.’
Perhaps for a god, but humans grow old and eventually die. Even the long-lived elves merely didn't age; their end still came. Where in the world was there such a thing as forever?
‘It would be one thing if they just wished for it. But they completely believe in it, as if he were a god.’
Roberta did not like that.
If there was even the slightest flaw in logic, she would dig into it with a persistence that others found excessive. It was her nature to agonize over a curiosity until it was resolved.
That was why she had doubted and pressed Ulrich about his identity, despite the assurances of the Pope and the Bishop. Any other priest would have been simpler, she thought; they wouldn't have tried to grasp the truth.
That was likely why her faith was not exceptional, despite being a priest. It was no wonder there were rumors that she wouldn't have become a priest if Alonso, who was like a foster father to her, hadn't pulled some strings.
‘I have no idea what Lord Alonso's intentions were in sending me here.’
Sighing for the umpteenth time, she shook her head.
#
And so, a little over a week passed.
The morning after the Infant Sacrament, Roberta returned to the city of Freiche to take up her post in the parish, immediately beginning her duties as head priest.
She laid the groundwork for restoring the parish, which had collapsed since the previous head priest's disappearance—restoring the temple, selecting acolytes, and administering sacraments.
Along with this, she didn't forget to investigate the lord.
‘In any parish, the church's affairs are intertwined with the lord's.’
She couldn't say it was entirely without personal motive, but it was also a natural duty for a head priest. The secular ruler and the temple were entities that shared the same domain. A relationship that could be adversarial or cooperative.
So she proceeded, considering it a primary task.
The problem was that she hit a wall right from the start.
“The lord? Hmm... It's difficult for me to say anything.”
No matter who she asked, they avoided answering. It got to the point where she missed the elder who had spilled all sorts of stories while drunk, and she seriously considered going to find him to ask.
‘What is it? Why are they avoiding the topic?’
They could at least say if he's good or bad, right?
One day, as she was racking her brain in frustration, visitors arrived in the city.
An old man and a boy.
Roberta, who had been polishing the sacred relics with a sullen face, narrowed her eyes. She had heard that Freiche was in the polar region of Dithmarschen, so outside visitors were extremely rare.
“Hmm?”
She hadn't seen a single one since her appointment, let alone an old man and a boy. Why would two people who looked like they wouldn't last the year come to a place like this? A strange curiosity stirred in Roberta, and she followed their path.
Sure enough, they were heading straight for the lord's manor.
Her intuition whispered in her mind.
‘Suspicious.’
Coincidentally, she was staying at the lord's manor. The temple was in a more wretched state than Alonso had let on, so Ulrich had offered her a place to stay at the manor.
It was a disquieting offer, so she had refused, hoping he would build a new temple or arrange for other accommodations, but the fief's circumstances left no other choice. So, on the condition that it would be for a while, she had been living uncomfortably in the suspicious lord's house.
It was also around the time the sun was beginning to set. She closed the main hall and hurried to the manor. With dinner preparations in full swing, no one would pay her any mind.
Roberta found the place where Ulrich would receive the two guests.
It was his office.
“Greetings, my lord.”
Just as she arrived outside the office, she heard the old man's greeting.
She peeked inside through the slightly ajar door. It wasn't a very large space. The manor had been converted from a fortress, so it was rather lacking as a living space.
‘If he's lived for hundreds of years, couldn't he decorate a little?’
While she was grumbling internally, Ulrich spoke.
“Yes, what reason brings you to me?”
He was sitting at his desk with a tiny window behind him.
“I came to see you after hearing stories about you, my lord. That you have lived a very long time. I heard it was three hundred years, no... that you have lived even longer than that.”
“That is true.”
“But you are so young.”
The old man paused, studying Ulrich.
“How can that be?”
“Is that what you came to find out? For immortality?”
When there was no immediate reply, he continued.
“Even if you knew the reason, it's not something you could do.”
“Is that so.”
“It may be hard to believe, but I'm sorry.”
“No, that's not it. I came to see you for another reason, my lord.”
The old man gripped the hand of the boy standing beside him. For a moment, he squeezed so tightly his own shoulders trembled, but the boy remained still, watching Ulrich.
“My name is Rashid. I have come from the Kingdom of Alaric.”
“The Kingdom of Alaric.”
Ulrich muttered as if searching his memory.
“I recall it being a nation in the east. You've come from quite far.”
“I didn't know it would be such a long journey myself.”
“And I suppose you didn't know it would be this cold, either.”
Rashid gave an awkward smile.
“And the boy? Your grandson?”
“No. He is my son.”
He narrowed his eyes and asked again.
“A late child?”
“I had him when I was twenty-one.”
Twenty-one. At those words, Ulrich leaned forward. Roberta, who was spying, also narrowed her eyes.
It was only natural. The difference in their appearances was so great they looked like a grandfather and grandson. Rashid looked much older than the clan elder she had met before, and his son looked ten at most.
“How old are you?”
Rashid stated he was sixty-seven.
“I see.”
Ulrich leaned back and exhaled slowly.
“So he's the problem.”
He pointed at the boy.
“Isn't he?”
“Yes. As you can see, my son has stopped growing. He is at an age where he should have several grown children of his own, but his body has stopped growing, and his mind has reverted to that of a baby. Before I die, I want to break the curse that has befallen this child.”
“His mind as well?”
“He remembers nothing except that I am his father. His speech is as simple as a child just learning to talk, and his actions are the same.”
“Hmm,” Ulrich hummed, stroking his chin as he stood up.
“Let me take a look.”
The boy backed away, flailing his hands in the air. As Ulrich approached, the boy looked ready to scratch him, so Rashid placed a hand on his son's back and raised his voice, telling him to be still.
“No!”
He even threatened Rashid, clicking his teeth.
“You little...!”
Rashid raised his palm.
“That's enough. I'll handle it, so don't worry.”
Ulrich picked up a bowl of fruit and offered it to the boy. Seeing the bowl heaped with dried fruit, the boy's eyes widened. He hid his teeth, snatched the bowl, and began stuffing the fruit into his mouth.
While the boy was distracted, Ulrich examined him, touching his neck, chest, and wrist. The boy growled like an animal as he ate, but Ulrich paid him no mind.
“I see.”
A moment later, Ulrich stood up.
“How is it?”
“What do you think the cause is?”
“I don't know. I suspect it might be some kind of curse, but...”
“Do you truly not know?”
His voice dropped low. The old man lowered his head, avoiding his gaze. Without a hint of amusement or anger, Ulrich calmly looked down at him from his tall height.
“When my son was eight, he desecrated a temple. It must be because of that. He angered the gods—”
“Stop lying. Who did this?”
The old man immediately stepped in front of the boy.
“Judging by your reaction, you know what you've done.”
He hesitated before answering that he did.
“And you must have sought out many others before me.”
Ulrich stepped back and sat in his chair again.
“What did they say? That it couldn't be fixed?”
“...”
“Let me guess. They must have asked you what you did.”
Rashid lowered his head further, biting his dry, wrinkled lip.
“The sicknesses and curses that roam this world can be solved by priests. If they can't solve it, you can usually find a solution with a mage or an alchemist. The same goes for arrested growth and mental regression. It's a problem that humans craving immortality have often encountered, so there are many solutions.”
But, he added.
“That's only if you can call it a sickness or a curse. If it were such a common and simple problem, why would you have sought me out? You came all the way from the distant east? Have rumors about me spread as far as the east? That's impossible. Outside of Osnover, only a handful of people know of me. You've wandered all over and finally ended up here. Isn't that right?”
His silence was an affirmation.
“Tell me. What did you do?”
Ulrich leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.
“Or do you want me to say it all?”
After a brief hesitation, Rashid raised his face.
“This child... came back to life. From death.”