chapter 4:Priestess Roberta(3)
300 years:
Priestess Roberta thought.
How could a human maintain their youth for so long?
While riding to find Lord Ulrich, she had agonized over what to ask first. Despite hearing many stories about the man named Ulrich, it was difficult to form a judgment of what kind of person he might be.
The only thing she had been sure of was his appearance. A man of three hundred years should be a frail elder, shivering in the cold wind. But when she finally met him, she was at a loss for words.
The man who introduced himself as Ulrich looked to be twenty at the youngest, and no older than twenty-five at most. He was tall with broad shoulders, and his eyes and hair were as black as jet.
A three-hundred-year-old man was inside this body?
The gossip—that he was a Vampire, the child of an Elf, or had Dwarf blood—was all baseless rumor. He was too healthy under the sun to be a Vampire, and far too tall to be a Dwarf.
There were some Galua—half-Elves—with rounded ears, so that was a slight possibility, but the assumption that he was of mixed blood didn't fit in the first place.
He was too refined. It would be more believable to think he was a pure-blooded Elf with distinctive ears.
These were the thoughts that had raced through her mind when she first saw him. The fleeting thoughts found no answer. Thus, the words she uttered after much deliberation were the same question many others must have posed to him before her.
"Who are you?"
Ulrich offered a gentle smile.
"You look cold. Let's talk over some tea."
He told the crowd waiting for the Sacrament that he would have to postpone it for a short while. The crowd dispersed, and an old man offered to prepare a place, guiding the two into a tent.
As they entered, a wave of heat warmed her body. A stove stood in the center of the tent, with a metal pipe leading to the chimney to vent the smoke outside.
Ulrich opened the lid of the teapot on the stove and checked inside.
"The aroma is quite strong. Will that be all right?"
"Pardon? Ah, it's fine."
He filled a cup with tea and handed it to Roberta. She thought, *Well, how strong can it be?* and was about to drink it right away, but she flinched at the sharp scent. Just a small sip brought tears to her eyes.
Ugh... what is this?
"The people here call it Songhwacha."
'The taste is completely different.
"It's harvested from a variant species.
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"Ugh... what is this?
"The people here call it Songhwacha."
"The taste is completely different."
"It's harvested from a variant species.
Unlike her, he sipped the tea nonchalantly.
"You must have seen the flock of sheep outside."
The image of a cow covered in sheep's wool came to mind.
"You can think of this Songhwacha the same way. It's made from the pollen of pine trees that grow under the influence of the Ice Peninsula, which humans call the Magyeong. It's hard to say it tastes good, but it's the only native tea plant we have, so you'd best get used to it. You'll be drinking it until you're sick of it, whether you like it or not."
"Is that so?"
She looked at the half-full cup and shuddered. She was already sick of it.
"This is a barren land. We can't be picky about what we eat."
"It seems better than what I've heard."
What had everyone said?
They'd said there was no Magyeong like it. That monsters outnumbered people, and a deadly chill persisted year-round. But reality was different.
The weather was bearable if you wore layers, and the village was raising livestock. It wasn't so bad as to be called a Magyeong, she thought.
"It is now."
"You mean it wasn't like this before?"
"Haven't you heard? In Dithmarschen, it can snow all year round. Usually, it falls like dew, stopping and starting, so it doesn't accumulate. But once every few years, it piles up as high as a person, and a time comes when we can't even find grass to feed the livestock, let alone farm."
He raised his hand above his head.
"The weather has only gotten this good in the last few years. The temperature is rising regardless of the season. It seems to be a sign that the Little Ice Age is ending, but it's too soon to be certain."
Roberta tilted her head at the word "Ice Age."
"Hmm, the Elves also call this era the Little Ice Age."
Ulrich poured another cup of tea and sat on the floor. It seemed sitting on the floor was the custom here, as there were no chairs. A carpet was laid out, but Roberta, unaccustomed to sitting on the floor, awkwardly sat cross-legged.
"You know how ages are divided, I presume."
"An age is marked by the rise and fall of an empire."
"Correct. That's the most common way humans divide history, and this is the third age. It means that humans have established three empires so far, and that two have fallen."
"And the Little Ice Age?"
"The temperature began to drop around the end of the second age. At the time, I was with the Elves, and we started calling it that because it was similar to the Ice Age of the distant past, but without the same drastic drop in temperature."
Roberta tore her gaze from her teacup and stared at the Lord. With a face so young, a face that showed no trace of time, a face that looked younger than her own, he spoke of past experiences as if they were recent, yet that past was 1,400 years ago.
Because this era, the third age, had lasted for about 1,400 years.
"You are—"
"You've been calling me that for a while. Call me by my name, Roberta."
She flinched.
"You know me?"
*Alonso and I correspond from time to time. I was told that Marcello, that child, would likely ask him for a recommendation. In that case, the only person Alonso would send is you."
Marcello was the name of the head of the Church, the organization humans often called the Pantheon. Setting aside the fact that he casually spoke the Pope's revered name in front of a Priestess—a name even the kings of great nations dared not utter in private—he had called a man over a hundred years old a "child."
"You're curious. No, you're suspicious. Who is this person before you, and how can he be so young? Isn't that right?"
the only person would be you.
Setting aside the fact that he casually spoke the Pope's revered name in front of a Priestess, he had called a man over a hundred years old a "child."
"You're curious. No, you're suspicious. Who is this person before you, and how can he be so young? Isn't that right?"
She nodded.
"What did Alonso tell you about me?"
"He didn't tell me anything."
"I see."
He hummed, stroking his chin with his left hand.
"But the rumors said you were a three-hundred-year-old half-blood, and the records in the temple say you came here three hundred years ago as a son-in-law who married into the family."
"Three hundred years," he muttered to himself.
"I've been here a long time. I never intended to stay this long. I knew it, of course, but I never really felt how much time had passed. Things change slowly here. It's like this place is frozen in time."
He stared down at his teacup, lost in thought for a long while, before coming back to himself.
"Right. First, to answer your question about being a half-blood, I am not."
"Are you even human?"
*I am human. Though it may be hard to believe.
"A pure human," he added.
"'Pure' is a strange word, isn't it? But if we define 'pure' as having no Dwarves or Elves among one's ancestors, then I can say I am the purest of humans."
"How is that possible? That's—"
"Impossible? What if you assume I was born before humans began to live intermingled with other races? I was born in the distant, distant past. So long ago that the records left under the name 'Ulrich' are but a fleeting moment."
An involuntary, hollow laugh escaped her at the absurd claim.
"You look displeased."
*Because it has to be a lie,* she was about to reply, but he spoke first.
"You're thinking I'm a terrible braggart."
"If you had just said you age slowly, I would have believed you."
"Why?"
"Because there's such a thing as common sense in this world!"
"Common sense... a vague term."
Ulrich gestured with his chin for her to continue.
"According to the scriptures, even after receiving the gift of fire from Ganimea's adopted son and building a civilization, humans were ostracized and could not live among the other races. It says they only began to mix blood after establishing the first human empire. Do you have any idea how long ago that was?"
"If I said I didn't know, wouldn't that make me a liar?"
"Many records were lost in the chaos, so the exact time isn't specified, but it was long enough ago for several generations of Elves to pass. Lord Ulrich-nim, what you're saying is utterly preposterous."
He nodded.
"I suppose it would sound that way."
Humans grow old, and even the other races eventually die. That is common sense. Countless people have sought immortality. Not one of them succeeded; all met their end.
It was true that Ulrich had shown miraculous abilities. The fact that his name was on the Heavenly Register without ever receiving ordination. The way the Pope and the diocesan head treated him as someone special. These were all facts that defied Roberta's common sense.
But it wasn't enough to make her believe everything Ulrich said. She could only conclude that there was something else at play, something she didn't know, something not so far-fetched.
"He might not be the real one. An imposter, perhaps."
It was true that Ulrich had shown miraculous abilities. The fact that his name was on the Heavenly Register without ever receiving ordination, and the way the Pope and the diocesan head
But it wasn't enough to make her believe everything Ulrich said. She could only conclude that there was something else at play, something she didn't know, something not so far-fetched.
"He might not be the real one. An imposter, perhaps:"
She watched his every move.
"But the truth is the truth."
He drained his teacup and said.
"I'd rather not speak at all than lie. I avoid lying whenever possible. Because it's troublesome. Think about it. If I have truly lived for so long, then with you...
how many people like you do you think there have been? How many times do you think I've repeated the same words?"
"Well, that can't be considered proof."
"True. But Roberta, I have no intention of persuading you. It may sound offensive, but you are not important enough that I would need to lie to you. Nor are you someone to whom I must reveal everything. I have simply answered because you asked."
Roberta nearly let out another scoff but managed to hold it back. She wondered what she should say. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, repeating the motion.
"Then tell me about those times. You said you lived in the distant past, and that past was the first era, didn't you? You must hold in your head the history that scholars so desperately seek. Am I wrong?"
At her sarcastic tone, he shook his head.
• That would be difficult.
"Why?"
"It was so long ago that my memories are not intact. Is it not the same for you? Do you clearly remember your childhood experiences? Even yesterday's memories scatter and vanish like smoke if you don't recall them. How much more so for memories far older than that?"
"Still, don't a few things come to mind?"
"Well, there are such memories. The problem is that most of them cannot be trusted. Some memories surface vividly, but they are crumbled into fragments, so they have mixed with dreams or imagination. Someone once said that memories are polished into keepsakes by oblivion. I will not speak of them because I cannot distinguish whether a memory that has become a keepsake is truth or falsehood."
*He's certainly eloquent,* Roberta clicked her tongue inwardly.
'He's avoiding it because it's all a bluff.'
Continuing this conversation wouldn't get her the answers she wanted. The man was making a claim she found hard to accept, and he had no evidence to support it. It wasn't as if she could browbeat him into spitting out the truth, either.
'Did Alonso-nim know? That I would end up in this situation.'
She believed he must have.
He was the one who had served as head priest before her. Despite his kind-looking impression, he had risen to the position of diocesan head because he was cold and calculating on the inside. There was no way such a man wouldn't have predicted this situation. It had been suspicious from the moment he sent her without telling her anything.
"Thinking too long is not always a good thing."
Ulrich said, tilting the teapot over his empty cup. When it was empty and only a few drops fell, he set the teapot down and rose from his seat.
"At times like these, just accept it. Don't overthink it. Sometimes, if you stop worrying and just watch how things flow, the answer will come to you on its own."
*The very person who turned my mind upside down is saying that? Are you mocking me?* Roberta frowned slightly and shook her head.
"My superior must have heard the same thing."
"You mean Alonso-nim?"
Ulrich nodded, and Roberta sighed.
"I don't understand why Alonso-nim sent me."
"Is that so? I think I do."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever been told that you resemble Alonso?"
The two met each other's gaze. He was watching. With a faint smile, he looked at her, seeing someone else within her.
"I don't understand why Alonso-nim sent me."
"Is that so? I think I do."
The two met each other's gaze. He was watching. With a faint smile, he looked at her, seeing someone else within her.
"I said it just a moment ago. That change is slow, that it seems to have stopped. That's because the world has been curated like an artificial garden. To preserve the way it was when I first came to this land. That way, I will remain bound to it."
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