Chapter 5: A Small Fraying (3)

　Clergy and monks were indispensable in the fight against the undead beasts.

　Holy water was necessary to destroy the creatures, and unless even the smallest wound they inflicted was purified, decay would eventually spread from it.

　Clergy dispatched from churches in the royal capital accompanied the Royal Order of Knights on the king’s campaign. At first, however, they were desperately short-handed because not even a minor scratch could be left untreated.

　When word of the campaign spread, independent clergy and monks gathered at the front to help. Some were still apprentices, but everyone was grateful for their faith and willingness to serve.

　Emily was one of those apprentice clerics who rushed to the battlefield.

　She began serving there less than six months after the campaign began.

　The horrifying undead beasts, the cumbersome methods required to destroy them, the advance-and-retreat struggle, and the rapidly decaying wounds all combined to create bottomless anxiety. With no end in sight, the knights were exhausted.

　In those circumstances, the sight of a pretty young woman devotedly purifying the wounded truly soothed their battered hearts. Emily was still an apprentice, awkward and slow, but her tireless efforts were admirable, and her smile seemed a ray of hope dispelling the gloom.

　The knights therefore viewed Emily fondly. Yet Kevin had also witnessed many unsettling moments, and he now recalled one.

“Please let me do it!”

　Emily cried out in her high, clear voice and rushed to the side of a soldier scratched by an undead beast’s claws.

　At first glance, it was a warm and devoted scene.

　Immediately behind her, however, stood the clergyman who had been examining the soldier first, now staring in surprise after Emily pushed him aside. Perhaps deciding there was no reason to object as long as the man was ultimately healed and purified, he merely offered an uneasy smile and remained silent.

　This was a battlefield, not a place for apprentices to practice. Although they had initially lacked manpower, by then many clergy and monks had arrived, and there was room to spare. Efficiency called for divided duties; Emily didn’t need to run everywhere by herself.

“It can’t be helped. She’s still young and tries so hard that she probably loses sight of everything around her.”

　The older female monk who said this with a laugh had, on another occasion, been pushed aside by Emily halfway through a purification and left with nothing to do.

“The girl is only desperate to do her best. She doesn’t mean any harm, and she hasn’t caused any serious damage yet. I don’t mind.”

　The woman was far more skilled at purification than Emily, but perhaps the gentle temperament of one who served the Goddess kept her from resenting the interruption. She simply watched as though all was well that ended well.

　On a chaotic battlefield, few people witnessed any such incident from beginning to end.

　Consequently, what remained in the surrounding soldiers’ minds was always the sight of Emily tirelessly making her rounds to purify wounds—and of grateful men thanking her.

　Eventually, the knights began calling Emily “the Saint.”

　Ordinarily, the title was bestowed only on someone recognized by the Grand Church in the royal capital. Yet the name had spread as a symbol of hope amid a grim war, and no one wished to spoil it by objecting.

　The knights’ admiration soon took on the fervor of religious faith, but neither their superiors nor the clergy tried to correct them. Emily was a young woman in a war zone overwhelmingly populated by men. Apparently, they judged that reverence bordering on worship would help deter violent misconduct.

　Before long, after every skirmish with the undead beasts, a long line formed before Emily as soldiers waited to have their wounds purified.

　Decay didn’t begin for approximately two days, so many knights willingly accepted the longer wait and joined her line.

“Well, I suppose anyone would prefer a pretty young lady to an old man like me.”

　The distinguished elderly priest who had come from a large western church sat on a boulder and laughed in exasperation.

　With so many other members of the clergy available, Kevin found the sight utterly ridiculous.

　At first, he too had admired Emily’s devotion.

　Sometimes, however, she abandoned a low-ranking knight such as Kevin—or anyone with only a minor wound—halfway through purification and hurried elsewhere.

　Perhaps it was natural for her attention to turn toward a familiar face who had been injured.

　Those familiar faces were generally high-ranking knights with considerable influence in the Order, men who praised Emily’s accomplishments effusively and made a point of befriending her.

　She was sincere. She was young. She followed her emotions and failed to notice what was happening around her.

　She worried about familiar people who treated her kindly. She hadn’t yet learned the faces and names of the many low-ranking knights, so she didn’t notice them. Someone else could handle a minor injury.

　Every defense from the people around her and every excuse from Emily herself chilled Kevin further. He knew his own inferiority complex and jealousy played some part, so he never said it aloud. Nevertheless, he had regarded Emily coldly from a very early stage.

“Many soldiers were saved through Saint Emily’s devotion.”

　Judging by the results alone, the statement could be called true. Yet Emily’s purification magic wasn’t superior to that of the other clergy.

　A little over two months later, when scenes like these had become commonplace, Elliot received the holy sword and the course of the battle changed dramatically.

　At the time, many knights proclaimed passionately:

“The Saint’s prayers reached the Goddess.”

Previous chapter | TOC | Next chapter