episode_0003

Licia must be around ten years old by now.

No matter how well she fought, she didn’t seem to have crossed the early teens.

I could tell because there were comparison targets in the church where I spent my childhood.

Compared to the kids who started eating mud at every opportunity, that girl seemed somewhat mature for her age.

“Grow up well.”

“….”

The girl didn’t respond until she went to bed after mealtime.

Licia didn’t deny reality or burst into tears. She simply lay down quietly, looking up at the sky, lost in thought.

Apart from occasionally glancing in my direction, she didn’t do much else. This state continued until the next day.

Watching to see if the light stayed on all night, I eventually saw Licia wake up and get up, so I kicked the remaining flames in the campfire with my foot.

In the morning, I grabbed a piece of hard bread just like yesterday. This is the human feed of this era.

As I mixed beer and bread in my mouth, Licia asked me.

“…I have a question, is it okay to ask?”

“Sure. I’ll answer if I can.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Well, I was going to take you to the church.”

“Weren’t you heading somewhere else? This village wouldn’t have been your destination.”

“That’s right.”

“Then… you could have just passed by.”

I could easily imagine the sentence that didn’t follow her last words.

It would have been something like, why did you, as a knight, do that, or something similar.

It was possible. If you didn’t want to get involved in trouble, you could just ignore it and pass by.

For knights who were chronically obsessed with money, there might be some appropriate force, and it was possible to rummage through what was left after looting.

And for knights who marked their position as medieval thugs, they might have actually done that.

Or they could have done something even worse. Although the church said that fellow believers should not be brought in as slaves, it was not uncommon to find those who did not follow that strictly.

Nevertheless.

“I’m not like them.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The person you’re thinking of.”

If I behaved like everyone else because it was hard, and if I fell to the same level as those who disgusted and tired me, I felt like I would become the same kind of people who disappointed me about the medieval fantasy world I had hoped for.

In response to my answer, Licia closed her mouth and seemed to be thinking about something, looking up at the sky in silence.

Still, I couldn’t stay in the middle of the road forever, so I lifted the girl onto the saddle.

“We’re leaving.”

“….”

Leaving the girl to think, I took the reins and turned the horse’s head towards the destination.

*****

I grew up in a church when I was an orphan.

But I wasn’t an orphan from the moment I was born.

To understand this, we had to go back in time to when I was a peasant in the medieval era.

I spent a somewhat spicy childhood even from the perspective of this era.

First of all, there is one thing to clarify, the name Lavender is a name I made up myself. No one remembers it now, but the name I used to use about a dozen years ago was Leo.

There is a somewhat personal and tumultuous family history intertwined here.

Once upon a time, there was a child named Leo in a small rural village. His father was very domestic.

He was so domestic that he even managed to create several families in the world.

And for reasons other than not wanting to admit it, I was one of his illegitimate children.

Since no one mentioned it specifically, I thought I didn’t have a father until I was about seven years old.

On the day when I was filled with sorrow over my mother’s death and overwhelmed by the uncertainty of the future, a group of unfamiliar men, who had not even made a reservation, suddenly barged into my house with muddy boots.

The man at the forefront of the group asked me. Later, I found out that he was the Marquis who owned the territory where I lived.

“You resemble someone, and you have grown up quite healthy.”

“Who are you?”

“Didn’t your mother ever talk about your father?”

“Yes, she said he was killed by bandits….”

“No, that’s not true. I am your father.”

The Marquis then made me an offer, or rather, it was more like a notification.

“Leave. And never show your face again.”

He decided to send me far away. To this day, I still don’t know the exact reason.

Judging by his aged face, perhaps the Marquis had to get rid of anything that could hinder the succession plan from taking shape.

At that time, I was ignorant of how the world worked, but looking back, kicking out the illegitimate child was a rather reasonable decision.

Unlike other nobles of this era, he did not quietly ‘dispose’ of me, perhaps out of lingering paternal affection.

Or maybe he was trying to reduce the burden of guilt that would haunt him after his sensational death.

Or perhaps he believed that the harsh realities of life would take care of me on their own. I personally support this hypothesis.

With only a single coin in my possession, I wandered for a while, and by a stroke of luck, I ended up entering a church.

The church is located right here.

The city I arrived in, Bolle, looked just as I remembered it from over a decade ago. The towering spire of the grand church, the bells, and statues, everything was the same.

It was a familiar sight. People had changed a lot in the ten years that had passed, and the buildings had undergone minor changes, but the warm atmosphere of home remained unchanged amidst the flow of time.

I went to the stable in front of the church to saddle my horse. I handed a few coins to the boy in charge and told him to feed the horse well.

“Yah.”

“….”

The girl seemed unable to jump down alone like me, so I helped her down separately.

After that, I walked around the church with the girl. Where could we find someone who could speak a bit… Ah, there.

I saw a familiar face in the distance.

It was the priest I had seen when I was in service at the church. His distinctive curly beard made it hard to forget.

Among the clergy, there were subdeacons at the bottom. Above them were priests, and higher up were bishops and archbishops.

Even though he was second from the bottom, it was by no means a low position. As the ranks of the clergy decreased exponentially as they climbed higher, this position was highly esteemed in this rural area, where all the nearby villages could be counted on one hand.

It would probably be easier to talk to someone higher up to skip the tedious procedures. After all, delays were not meant for times like these.

Thinking along those lines, I waved my hand slightly, catching the attention of Priest Phepin.

After excusing himself to the other subdeacons around him, he approached me.

“Long time no see. How have you been?”

“Not bad. Is everything alright at the church?”

“Not at all. The world is in turmoil, and the Papal See has been quite noisy lately.”

“What’s going on?”

“The tension between the Emperor and the Holy See is escalating. Some say that something big is about to happen soon.”

Asking about each other’s well-being and exchanging brief updates, the priest Pippin glanced at Lycia and asked me.

“Who is this child?”

“I brought her from a village ravaged by barbarians. It seems like some northern folks took a detour and stumbled upon it.”

“Such a tragic event. May they find salvation.”

After a short prayer, the priest examined Lycia and noticed the small bandages wrapped around various minor wounds.

“Oh my. Can you lend me your hand for a moment?”

Lycia hesitated for a moment, then glanced in my direction. With a nod of reassurance, she extended her hand.

The priest took her hand and murmured a brief prayer.

As a white and faint light appeared at the priest’s fingertips, it cleanly erased even the remaining bloodstains when it touched the wounds. Lycia seemed to sense that something had happened, as she widened her eyes slightly and peeked under the bandages covering the wounds.

Seeing such a sight made me wonder if this place truly was a fantasy world.

To think that scars could be healed with a simple gesture, leaving no trace of bloodstains. It shattered my identity as a rational and logical engineer.

Silently observing this, the priest, now finished with the treatment, turned to me and spoke.

“The church will take care of her properly. She must be very tired. Come in and rest for a while.”

“Thank you. I will take you up on that offer for a moment of respite.”

This is as far as I can go with my meddling.

A few words of farewell and well wishes to Lycia, and my role in this is done.