chapter 6
Roberta stepped out of the tent. As she let out a long sigh, her breath plumed just as long before scattering. The alcohol had flushed her face and warmed her body.
But the night wind was chilling, and a shiver ran down her spine. It was early winter weather, hard to believe for summer.
Am I going to live here from now on?
She sighed again, lowering her head.
"Ah, I hate this."
The words escaped her lips unintentionally.
There was a Lord whose intentions were impossible to fathom. If that were all, it would be a relief. But the head priest appointed by His Holiness the Pope had gone missing, and it was clearly a matter connected to the Lord.
On top of that, he had lived for hundreds of years, yet he looked to be her age. He wasn't even a priest, yet he had performed the Infant Sacrament on a whim—and it had even succeeded.
Her head was about to explode from the complexity of it all.
The more terrifying fact was that this was only the first day.
'Alonso-nim was here for years!'
The term for a head priest was typically ten years. Sometimes, they were appointed to a post for life. Of course, that was uncommon, as a longer term could lead to them becoming corrupted like a secular monarch.
'I really hate this.'
She kicked at a stone embedded in the ground with her right foot.
'They all just say their piece, and what am I supposed to do?'
She put force into her kick. The deeply embedded stone shot out with a *thwip*, flying far before embedding itself in the ground. Or, it must have. It was late at night, so the stone was invisible, and the sound was buried by the wind.
She pulled her outer garment tighter and looked at the night scenery.
There was nothing to call scenery. The sky was overcast, hiding even the moon. What was there to see? The landscape before her was an abyss, no different whether her eyes were open or closed.
And such a sight made her fall into contemplation. With her eyes at rest, her mind began to wander needlessly, and she recalled the conversation she'd had with elder Brase, which she had momentarily forgotten.
That he had toppled a Giant taller than three men with a whip, that he had helped the Snow Elves bring summer, that he had entered a sleeping dragon's lair—each story was preposterous, yet interesting. Though they always concluded with praise for Lord Ulrich.
'Alonso-nim used to tell similar stories, too.'
Roberta recalled her conversation with the elder.
The stories were preposterous, yet interesting. Though they always concluded with praise for Lord Ulrich.
Roberta recalled her conversation with the elder.
She had listened intently, sipping from her cup. When the wine was gone and she began to down a cheap local spirit, the elder's voice gradually lost its strength. His eyes still held their power, but his body could not keep up with his will, and his voice began to crack.
- You see.
At that time, the elder had concluded his words to her like this.
- I will live for a mere half-century more before returning to the earth, but my Lord will live a life longer than the time our clan has existed. And he will watch over my grandson, who received the Sacrament today. Just as he taught my ancestor with the same hands that taught me the bow. Forever, as long as we serve him.
Roberta understood the elder's words.
It wasn't that she particularly sympathized, but she understood.
Such claims were not uncommon. Though the age of humans had come and gone three times, the other races had not been annihilated. The Dwarves and Elves had merely lost their former influence; each was continuing its own history.
That was why half-breeds were sometimes born, and why Dwarves and Elves sometimes stood above humans. The elder's ancestor was a person from a few hundred years ago, but the ancestor of a clan that served an Elf could be a person from over a thousand years ago.
History could be a tedious shackle to humans, but at times, it could also be a driving force. Just as the Cormilius family, which traced its lineage to the first Emperor, used that history as the basis for their unique right to elect the Pope.
Furthermore, if that history belonged not to a nation or a family but to the life of a single individual, wouldn't the feelings toward him inevitably become as heavy as faith?
Roberta let out a short laugh.
'Forever? Wouldn't that be nice if it were possible.'
For a god, perhaps, but humans grow old and eventually die. Even the Elves, with their long lifespans, were merely ageless; the end still came for them. Where in the world was there such a thing as forever?
They don't just wish for it, they believe it completely. 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 so tenaciously that others would call her obsessive. It was in her nature to fret over a curiosity until it was resolved.
That was why she had doubted Ulrich's identity and pressed her investigation, despite the assurances of the Pope and the diocesan head. Any other Priestess would have been simpler, she thought; they would not have tried to grasp the truth.
That was likely why her faith was not exceptional, despite her being a Priestess. It was only natural that rumors circulated saying she could not have become a Priestess if Alonso, who was like an adoptive father to her, had not pulled some strings.
'I have no idea what Alonso-nim's intentions were in sending me here.'
Sighing for what felt like the hundredth 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 and, having been appointed to the diocese, immediately began her duties as head priest.
Restoring the temple, selecting acolytes, performing the Sacraments—she started from the very basics to rebuild the diocese, which had collapsed in the time since the previous head priest had gone missing.
Along with this, she did not forget to investigate the Lord.
[MISSING]
The morning after the Infant Sacrament, Roberta returned to the city of Freiche and, having been appointed to the diocese, immediately began her duties as head priest.
Restoring the temple, selecting acolytes, performing the Sacraments—she started from the very basics to rebuild the diocese, which had collapsed in the time since the previous head priest had gone missing.
'In any diocese, the work of the Church is intertwined with the Lord.'
She couldn't say she was without personal motives, not by a long shot, but it was also a duty she naturally had to perform as head priest. The secular monarch and the temple were in a relationship where they shared the same domain. A relationship where they could be in opposition or in cooperation.
So she proceeded, considering it a primary duty.
The problem was that her objective was stymied from the very beginning.
"The Lord? Hmm... It's difficult for me to say anything."
In this way, whomever she asked evaded the question. It reached a point where she missed the elder who would spill all sorts of stories when drunk, and she seriously considered seeking him out to ask.
"What is it? Why are they avoiding the topic?"
They could at least say if he's good or bad, right?
It was on one such day, as she was clutching her head in frustration.
Visitors arrived in the city. An old man and a boy. Roberta, who had been sullenly polishing a holy relic, narrowed her eyes. She had heard that Freiche, being in the remote land of Dithmarschen, received outside visitors very, very rarely.
"Hmm?"
She hadn't seen a single one since her appointment, and now it was an old man and a boy of all people. Why would two people, one of whom looked as if he wouldn't survive the year, come to a place like this? A strange curiosity stirred in Roberta, and she followed their movements.
And just as she expected, were they not heading straight for the Lord's manor?
Intuition whispered in her mind.
'Suspicious.'
Coincidentally, she was staying at the Lord's manor. The temple was in a state more wretched than Alonso's words had suggested, so Ulrich had proposed she stay at the manor.
It was an unsettling proposal, so she had refused and hoped he would build a new temple or arrange for another residence, but the fief's circumstances left no other choice.
So, on the condition that it would be "for a while," she was in the midst of an uncomfortable cohabitation in the suspicious Lord's house.
It was around the time the sun began to set. She closed the main hall and hurried to the Lord's manor. With dinner preparations in full swing, there was no one to pay her any mind.
Roberta looked for the place where Ulrich would receive the two guests.
It was his office.
Greetings, Lord.
Just as she arrived before 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 Lord's manor had been converted from an old castle, so it was quite lacking as a living space.
'If he's lived for hundreds of years, couldn't he decorate a little?'
While she grumbled inwardly, Ulrich spoke.
"Yes, what is the reason you've sought me out?"
He was sitting at his desk with a tiny window behind him.
"I came to see you after hearing stories about you, Lord. That you have lived a very long time. Three hundred years, I heard, no... even longer than that."
"That is true."
"And yet, you are young."
He was sitting at his desk with a tiny window behind him.
"I came to see you after hearing stories about you, Lord. That you have lived a very long time. Three hundred years, I heard, no... even longer than that."
"That is true."
"And yet, you are young."
The old man paused, studying Ulrich.
"How is that possible?"
"Is that what you came to find out? For agelessness?"
When no answer came immediately, he continued.
"Even if you knew the reason, it's not something you could do."
"Is that so."
"Hard to believe, I know. I'm sorry."
"No, that is not it. I have another reason for seeking you out, Lord."
The old man gripped the hand of the boy standing before him. For a moment, he squeezed so tightly his shoulders trembled, but the boy just stared at Ulrich without moving.
"My name is Rashid. I have come from the Alaric Kingdom."
"The Alaric Kingdom, you say."
Ulrich muttered as if searching his memory.
"I remember it as a nation in the East. You've come from quite far!"
"I did not know it would be such a long journey myself."
"And that it would be so cold, I imagine."
Rashid smiled wryly.
"And the child? 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 that, Ulrich leaned forward. Roberta, who was watching furtively, also narrowed her eyes.
It was understandable. The two looked so different they could have been grandfather and grandson. Rashid looked far older than the clan elder she had met before, while his son appeared to be ten at the most.
"How old are you?"
Rashid said he was sixty-seven.
*I see.*
Ulrich leaned back and let out a long breath.
"This one's the problem." He pointed to the boy. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes, as you can see, my son's growth has stopped. He's at an age where he should have several grown children of his own, but his body has stopped growing, and his mind has regressed to that of an infant. I want to break the curse placed on this child before I die."
"His mind as well?"
"He remembers nothing but the fact that I am his father. He speaks as simply as a child just learning to talk, and his actions are the same."
Hmm. Stroking his chin, Ulrich stood up.
"Let me take a look."
The boy backed away, flailing his hands in the air. As Ulrich approached, he looked as if he was about to scratch, so Rashid placed a hand on his son's back and raised his voice, telling him to be still.
No!
He even chattered his teeth menacingly at Rashid.
"You little..." Rashid raised his hand.
"That's enough. I'll handle it, so don't worry."
"No!"
You little...? Rashid raised his hand.
Ulrich picked up the fruit bowl and held it out to the boy. Seeing the bowl piled high with dried fruit, the boy's eyes widened. He stopped baring his teeth, snatched the bowl, and began stuffing the fruit into his mouth.
While he was distracted, Ulrich examined the boy, placing his hands on 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.
"Well?"
"What do you believe the cause is?"
"I don't know. I suspect it's some kind of curse, but••..•."
"You really don't know?"
His voice dropped low. The old man lowered his head, avoiding his gaze. With neither a smile nor anger, Ulrich calmly looked down at him from his great height.
"When my son was eight, he desecrated a temple. It must be because of that. He brought the wrath of the gods upon himself—"
"Enough with the lies. Who did this?"
The old man immediately moved to block the boy from view.
"Judging by your reaction, you know what you did."
After a moment's hesitation, he answered that he did.
"And you must have sought out many others before me."
Ulrich stepped back and sat down in his chair again.
"What did they say? That it couldn't be fixed?"
.......
"Let me guess. They asked you what you did."
Rashid lowered his head even further and bit his parched, wrinkled lips.
"The illnesses and curses that roam this world can be handled by priestesses. Even if they can't, most can be resolved by finding a sorcerer or an Alchemist. The same goes for arrested growth and mental regression. So many humans have craved immortality and run into these problems that there are plenty of solutions."
But," he added.
"That's only if we're talking about an illness or a curse. If it were such a common and simple problem, why would you have sought me out? All the way from the distant East? Have rumors about me spread that far? Unlikely. Outside of this Osnover Kingdom, only a handful of people know of me. You've simply wandered everywhere else and finally ended up here. Isn't that so?"
His silence was an affirmation.
"Tell me. What did you do?"
Ulrich leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together.
"Or do you want me to say the rest?"
After a brief hesitation, Rashid raised his face.
"This child was brought back to life. From death."
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