Ch.245Episode 12 – The Strongest Mage in History

Is there anything more shocking than waking up to find your house in complete disarray?

The dining table was covered with wild plants and stone fragments. The carefully washed rug was now a mess of snow and dirt, and the child’s clothes were so filthy that “grimy” would be an understatement—as if they had crawled through a chimney.

Faced with a scene that resembled a playground more than a home, the middle-aged woman could only hold her head in despair.

“Son, what on earth happened here…?”

The mother gently admonished her child, whose clothes and face were covered in dirt and dust.

“Were you trying to pray to that goddess or whatever again?”

“No!”

The child shook his head vigorously.

“I was trying to do what the priest taught me! Not to the goddess… but to the celestial god!”

“Son…”

The mother glanced at the cluttered dining table.

Though life was hard and she couldn’t attend church often, and she had never been particularly devout, even someone ignorant of religion could see that the chaotic state of the house was far from normal.

“I’ve told you before. This is idolatry, and it’s forbidden.”

“But the priest said it was okay.”

“How many times must I tell you, he’s a monk, not a priest…”

“Still…”

The child hung his head dejectedly. The middle-aged woman briefly worried that she might have been too harsh with her young son.

Everything had changed since martial law was declared in the North. Life had become harder, and smiles had disappeared from people’s faces. Citizens of the Empire were widely known to be stoic and unsmiling by nature, but the Empire was still a place where people lived.

Yet since the conflict with the Magical Realm began, it seemed people had forgotten how to smile.

Of course, she harbored hope in a corner of her heart that all this was a tragedy that would eventually end and that people would regain their smiles, but once something is lost, it never truly returns. Like her left foot, which had to be amputated after suffering frostbite because she couldn’t find a priest or doctor, or like family members who had joined the army and never been heard from again.

And so, the middle-aged woman’s heart ached at the thought that her growing child might have to live with painful memories for the rest of his life.

“I told you, didn’t I? When the snow stops, your father will come back too…”

“…”

“I just, so, I just…”

A deep silence fell over the house. The child hung his head dejectedly and sniffled, while the mother forced a smile and gently stroked his back.

“Son, it’s okay. I’m not scolding you.”

“…”

“Go play with your friends. Just make sure you’re back before dinner. Can you promise that?”

“Mm-hmm…”

“Good, don’t cry.”

The child, his tears suddenly stopped, nodded and left the house.

Though the house was still a mess and there was much to do, the mother couldn’t take her eyes off her son as he walked away.

“Oh my…”

With a short sigh that could have been either lamentation or muttering, silence returned to the northern household.

Episode 12 – The Most Powerful Magician in History

There are many renowned figures active in the North.

Mikhail, who holds the rank of General, the highest possible rank for a uniformed soldier, and serves as the military governor. Evangelos Lysidike, descendant of the great archmage ‘Lysidike,’ who commands the Magic Tower’s magical corps. Ferretti, commander of the Order of St. Andrea Knights, a religious order with a long history dating back to the East-West confrontation during the Holy War.

There are many famous people in the world, and some of them I know well.

Camilla Rowell from England.

A possessor of such tremendous power that she can burn an entire mountain to ashes—something most magicians wouldn’t even dare attempt.

Perhaps because she graduated from a prestigious British university, she’s quick-witted, and she’s so capable that she received an extension offer from her supervisor during her internship at an intelligence agency. She comes from a decent family, too. Having traveled to various conflict zones with her older sister, she adapts easily to harsh environments.

Francesca Ranieri from Fatalia.

Like the Lysidike family, she is a descendant of the great archmage ‘Ranieri’ and an alchemist who served as an elite bureaucrat in the Magic Tower’s secretariat.

She’s fluent in several foreign languages and quite intelligent, recognized by both the Magic Tower and the Ivory Tower. Befitting her magical lineage, she handles magic with ease and is also well-versed in theory. Perhaps from managing the Magic Tower Oracle’s secret funds, she has good business acumen. Being of noble birth, she’s accustomed to dealing with high-ranking military officers and officials.

But the most recognized figure in the North among our group is neither Camilla nor Francesca, but Lucia.

“The Saint has arrived…”

“Look over there, it’s the Saint!”

Lucia has the highest recognition in the North among our group.

While her unique position as a religious saint and her experience serving as a healing priest in the North certainly contributed to her recognition, what truly etched her into people’s minds was her active civilian support.

“Thank you, thank you so much…”

“Thank you for helping us, Saint.”

Lucia traveled through the northern cities under the Empire’s influence, helping people.

When someone was sick, she would invoke divine power to perform the sacrament of the sick and healing; when someone was hungry, she would lead food distribution with the help of local officials.

Since most people in the North were either sick or hungry, it was only natural that crowds gathered around Lucia.

For these gathered people, Lucia conducted Mass from dawn.

“This is the darkest hour. Hardship and adversity are experiences everyone faces in life. No one living a life both long and short wants to suffer.”

“But just as brilliant sunshine eventually shines even when the sky is full of dark clouds, I believe that these painful times will ultimately prove to be nothing when we look back.”

“The righteous may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers them from them all. Though your hearts may be filled with worry, God will pull you out of your distress.”

She would wake up at 5 AM to conduct Mass, distribute breakfast to people, clean up afterward, then tour shelters for relief activities. When lunchtime came, she would again distribute meals while offering prayers, and after the meal service ended, she would go back to caring for patients.

Lucia’s daily routine was filled with philanthropy.

Practicing a daily life consisting solely of religion and relief work without missing a day, there was hardly anyone among the northern citizens who might not recognize her face but didn’t know her name.

Camilla, Francesca, and I—honestly, we’re all having breathless days, but none of us dared to show any signs of fatigue in front of Lucia. How could we whine about being tired to someone who spends most of her day in intense labor, waking up at dawn and going to sleep at dawn? It’s easy to say, but watching what Lucia does up close makes me wonder if it’s humanly possible.

Dispatched to the North, Lucia was living a life that exemplified a religious figure more than anyone else, and it seemed to go beyond faith to the point of obsession, which left me shaking my head in amazement.

“Wow… Saint. How do you manage to do that every day? You sleep only three or four hours a day and still go out to volunteer every day—aren’t you tired?”

Lucia smiled sweetly.

“I’m fine. How could I step back claiming fatigue when I’m helping those who are suffering?”

“You’ll wear yourself out that way.”

“I said I’m fine.”

After answering like that, Lucia continued moving boxes even as she talked with me. They contained relief supplies to be distributed to refugees.

“If you’re truly concerned about me, why don’t you help with the work?”

Setting down a box, Lucia wiped her sweat with her sleeve. Despite the cold winter, she was sweating profusely.

“We’re always short-handed. Since you’ve done this kind of work at the Magic Tower, wouldn’t you adapt quickly?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, no. That’s not what I meant… I’m a bit busy with my own work, so it’s difficult for me to help.”

“That’s a shame.”

Lucia clicked her tongue in disappointment.

Suddenly feeling a chill at that sight, I shuddered and unnecessarily smoothed down my coat.

*

“Another day has safely passed, somehow.”

“Indeed it has.”

On a hill overlooking a small town far from the front lines, Lucia and I were having a conversation.

Sitting on a park bench catching her breath, Lucia looked up at the sunset sky with a clear smile.

“I should be returning to the cathedral for prayer at this hour…”

At Lucia’s murmur, the faces of the clergy turned ashen.

Looking at the sunset, Lucia smiled contentedly.

“Well, I suppose skipping one day won’t be a big problem.”

At the Saint’s declaration that there would be no Mass, the clergy cheered. They didn’t openly show their delight, but their expressions brightened instantly.

Clergy who are happy to skip prayer? I’m not sure whether to laugh or be sad about this.

Still, unlike the clergy, I wasn’t in a position to be tormented by Lucia, so that was fortunate. While Lucia asked for privacy to speak with me, I sat down beside her and casually opened the conversation.

“Looks like we’ll be spending the end of the year abroad. Welcoming the new year while working non-stop without even going home. And in the North, no less.”

“Is this your first time welcoming the new year in a foreign country?”

“Not exactly… Well, yes, this time it is.”

When you’re deployed overseas, you might end up spending holidays abroad if you’re unlucky. New Year’s Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and so on. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sent a few holiday greeting texts to my family from a safe location before heading back to work.

After serving as Advisor Clevins, I was finally able to rest comfortably at home during holidays, but somehow I ended up back in the field going through this hardship again.

“Have you ever welcomed the new year abroad, Saint?”

“About twice. I was here for three years, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right, you were a minor then. You’ve been through a lot too, Saint.”

Dimples appeared on her cheeks, which were tinged red by the sunset glow. Gazing at the sunset, Lucia smiled brightly.

“I don’t think of it as hardship. It was work that someone had to do.”

We sat on the hill overlooking the small town, continuing our idle chat. Having finished her schedule earlier than usual, Lucia instructed the clergy to perform their evening prayers individually rather than as a group.

The clergy of the Order, marveling at Lucia’s grace, dispersed to spend their personal time. At this point, I wasn’t sure whether to blame Lucia for forcing tired people to pray or to criticize the clergy for skipping prayer to go have fun.

It seemed right to give people some breathing room when they’re doing unfamiliar work in a foreign land. But then again, I wondered if they were forgetting their religious identity.

Either way, it wasn’t my concern, so I simply called out softly to Lucia sitting beside me.

“Saint Lucia. I hear people from the Order will be coming soon?”

“People? Ah… you mean the volunteers.”

I nodded quietly at her words.

Although the Abas government has stepped forward to support the Kien Empire, Abas is not the only country supporting the Empire.

The Order and the Magic Tower are already deploying many troops to the North, and pro-Empire dictatorships are also stretching their limited resources to lend a helping hand.

However, since there are limits to state support (in a political sense), the Empire has decided to accept some support from the private sector as well. In this context, the Imperial government has decided to bring in foreign volunteers to the North.

Looking at the clear sky with the sunset, a smile spread across Lucia’s face.

“I think it’s the right decision. It’s welcome news that people are coming to help the refugees here.”

I wonder. Is accepting foreign volunteers really a good thing?

In my experience, some of those who wander around conflict zones with the label of “volunteer” are not civilians. One of the identities frequently used by spies is that of IGO or NGO staff. I know this well, having frequently traveled to sub-Saharan Africa under the guise of a volunteer.

Of course, it might be needless worry, but given my profession, I couldn’t fully trust the volunteers scheduled to enter the North. I hoped it was just my paranoia. I was concerned that the volunteers might cause diplomatic issues by doing something foolish.

However, I couldn’t share these thoughts with Lucia, so I just looked up at the sky and let out a deep sigh.

“I guess it’s good that volunteers are coming. Saint Lucia, you should take a break and let them handle some of this work.”

“If I stop relief activities, who will do them?”

“I’m telling you, you’ll really wear yourself out. There are plenty of people who’ve ruined their health volunteering abroad.”

“Thank you for your concern. I’ll take your advice to heart.”

“No, don’t just take it to heart—actually follow it…”

As our conversation was deepening, a cleric walked up the hill from below.

Neatly cut mint-green bob hair. Black clerical robes with a black fascia. And a slightly cold, familiar face.

It was Priestess Rebecca.

“Priestess Rebecca? What brings you here?”

“I heard you were here, so I came up. I have something urgent to tell the Saint and the Official.”

“Did something happen in the town?”

“Yes. We have a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“A religious issue. I think it would be easier for you to understand if you saw it directly.”

*

The incident began with a dispute between a cleric of the Order and a child.

A priest who was patrolling the village in groups discovered a child playing with dirt in an open space and approached him. However, the child had set up something resembling an altar in the open space and was praying, and upon seeing this, the priest scolded the child and went looking for his guardian.

Up to this point, it was simply a minor clash between folk religion and mainstream religion.

The Order prohibits idolatry according to its doctrine and does not believe in gods other than the Celestial God, so this could have been dismissed as a mere incident where an inflexible, old-fashioned cleric had a heated argument with a local child.

However, something strange caught my eye.

“Wait. Isn’t that the kid we saw before? The one who was almost subjected to an inquisition by the Inquisitor?”

“Yes, it is.”

The child who had the dispute with the priest was the same one who had nearly faced an inquisition before.

By coincidence or not, this time too, he was caught by a priest while praying to a local deity of the North.

“Was he caught doing some kind of sorcery again?”

“It appears so.”

“Oh dear.”

Priestess Rebecca explained that the child had been caught by the priest while attempting to use sorcery.

Lucia seemed to want to let it go as just another childish prank done out of ignorance, but Priestess Rebecca seemed to have a different view.

“It was crude, but definitely sorcery. At least, that’s how it appears to my eyes.”

“Are you certain?”

“There were faint traces of sorcery remaining—too much for mere coincidence.”

“Where on earth did that child learn about such things and even set up an altar? Goodness…”

Up to this point, I wasn’t particularly interested in getting involved. What did it matter to me if a child was using sorcery?

But Priestess Rebecca’s subsequent explanation had some intriguing aspects.

“While my subordinate was protecting the child, they briefly conversed. The child testified that he learned how to build an altar and pray from a cleric.”

“Are you saying that child learned sorcery from a cleric of the Order?”

“He said he learned it from a priest, but judging by the description, it sounds more like a monk than a priest. No priest wears a brown tunica.”

A child who built an altar to pray to a northern goddess claims he learned sorcery from a cleric of the Order.

As I mentioned earlier, the Order doctrinally denies or does not recognize gods other than the Celestial God and forbids the worship of idols except for sacred images.

But a cleric teaching sorcery to a civilian?

That doesn’t add up.

Something seems off.

“…”

Though I’m not certain,

“…Where does that child live?”

It seems worth investigating.