SALP Chapter 18

Lanthe moved her mouth mechanically, lost in thought.

'Where should I even begin thinking?'

When you've barely escaped the deep, dark night and want to start a new day again...

'What did I tell you to think about first at times like that?'

'Aunt Louise...'

'When you've safely greeted another morning and the sun smiles at you again.'

'Things to be grateful for?'

She'd told her to think first thing upon waking about things to be grateful for.

'This little troublemaker knows? That's right. Not the things that made you angry or sad yesterday. Start by inscribing grateful things in your heart. Then Lanthe will become a stronger person than yesterday and spend the day.'

Even when waking from dreams that made her angry and sad, she should think first in the morning about things to be grateful for.

Following Aunt Louise's teaching, Lanthe had started most mornings with gratitude and joy.

But it had been completely impossible these past three months.

Since the day Roas burned, she hadn't once thought she was grateful, hadn't felt even a similar emotion.

Even waking safely in the morning, eating luxurious dishes, sleeping in a warm and soft bed, having jewels, learning letters, hearing about a future as queen—not a single moment had she felt gratitude.

She was grateful for nothing. Glad about nothing. Tense as a tightly pulled string, trembling, then letting out brief sighs of relief.

'This Louise is grateful for so many things. I'm grateful that our Lanthe fell off the roof so many times as a child, and came out no stupider than before.'

'What kind of thanks is that!'

'I'm grateful that our Lanthe left one strawberry for auntie.'

'Ahem.'

A faint smile touched Lanthe's lips as she recalled Aunt Louise's ridiculous thanksgivings.

If it were her, wouldn't she be offering countless grateful prayers even about Lanthe's current situation?

For escaping Newbella.

For reuniting with Vigo.

For receiving kindness from Nina and Princess Ana...

"...Right. Do you know who healed me?"

Suddenly she remembered the most realistic person she should thank.

Someone had said healing prayers for her.

"When I first came here and was unconscious, I heard someone healed me. I just remembered."

"Ah."

Nina lowered her eyes slightly indifferently and answered.

"It was probably Father Conor. I didn't see, but when the lord came carrying you, he called for Father Conor."

"A priest?"

But according to what Vigo had said...

'Actually, I have something like a prophet under me.'

She'd thought it was someone with status like Fiarelle. She'd learned there were a few sects in Penmark that used the titles church or priest, but she hadn't known priests also prophesied.

Even Roas's church had forbidden prophecy and magic. The village elder who'd served as prophet was an exceptional case—the angel specially providing minimal guidance for the Raphlish through his dreams.

'He prayed healing prayers for the princess a few days ago and called her a 'maiden.''

Lanthe coughed as she mulled over Vigo's words.

Embarrassing and suspicious content had been mixed in.

But if he was a priest and not a temple official, Vigo had clearly spoken carelessly.

"How can I meet Father Conor? I want to thank him for healing me."

"Father Conor?"

Nina pulled the empty fork from her mouth and blankly repeated her words.

"Yeah. He's at the cathedral in the castle, right? The Hestan Church cathedral."

Her eyes kept rolling—this way, that way, anywhere—and her voice had gone oddly strained. It was a bit strange.

'Could it be a religion that worships a frightening god with a name like god of death or god of destruction? She'd thought such places used names like temple or shrine.'

"Is it a dangerous place...?"

For Lanthe, the familiar ring of "church" didn't match with the word "dangerous," but there were over a hundred gods worshipped in Penmark. There could easily be churches with an atmosphere completely removed from the church image she knew.

"Uh, um."

Nina made a pained sound and worried before answering.

"Still, it might be okay for Lanthe sis."

'Still?'

"You mean it's different for each person?"

"Yes. Most people would feel similar though."

'What is she even talking about? I can't understand.'

Lanthe looked at Warner standing some distance away.

"...Do you wish to see Father Conor?"

Since there were only three people in the dining hall, her quiet words seemed to have reached him despite the distance.

"May I, Sir Warner?"

Warner readily nodded.

"Of course. He's a resident of the Hestan Church within the castle, but will you go see him now?"

"Yes. I will."

"Then I'll wait here. Have a safe trip, both of you."

Nina flapped her hands in farewell—somehow this was now entirely someone else's business—and backed away. Her eyes looked somewhat solemn.

The forest path through the main building's rear garden reminded her of the day she'd hidden her intentions to escape Newbella and headed toward the lake.

Lanthe recalled that day—only a few days ago—as if it were an old memory. The changed season made it feel like much longer ago.

'If a miracle like that day happened once more...'

Could she give up staying by Vigo's side and choose to flee to safe land?

Of course she should do that, obviously. Surely she could.

"Father Conor occasionally goes out, but if you tell him you'd like to meet and make an appointment, you should be able to see him within a day or two."

Warner explained in detail on the way to the church. His appearance and speech were extremely sharp and rigid, but he looked after her surprisingly well.

They said he's a knight commander—is this also a product of competence? Watching him efficiently inform her of things she might wonder about made respect sprout fresh among her feelings that had been full of wariness.

"Here it is."

The Hestan Church cathedral stood inside a yard surrounded by waist-high log fencing. A two-story grayish-white stone building.

Lanthe looked around the church building without much thought, then raised her gaze to the church symbol hung at the top. 

And in that moment, she was seized by an indescribable feeling.

The symbol's form was familiar. 

A radial pattern of light spreading from a thick cross-shaped line within a round border.

It was the same as Roas's. Exactly the same.

"Please go ahead. I'll wait here."

Yes, she answered in a voice that didn't even reach her own ears while passing through the open gate as if possessed by something.

She slowly crossed the grassy yard. She moved cautiously as if afraid her feet might damage anything here.

Just then the building's entrance door slid open. A woman in a simple tan-colored long tunic dress with a matching tan padded coat came out and opened the door. She turned as if she had business beside the building, but soon spotted Lanthe and her eyes grew round.

Her eyes grew larger and larger.

Lanthe quickly opened her mouth as if to explain.

"Hello, priestess. I apologize for visiting suddenly. My name is Lanthe. I'd like to see Father Conor..."

She must be a priest. The priests at Roas church had worn clothes like that regardless of gender.

Long ago, Lanthe had owned the same clothes. For the Christmas festival when she was six, her role in the play had been a priest, so Aunt Louise had made them. Vigo's role had been a fellow priest too. His costume had been made by Alina in advance during summer, but Vigo had suddenly grown a lot in autumn. In the end, his calves showed plainly beneath the short tunic skirt, and everyone in the village teased and adored him.

Back when she'd thought everyone simply loved Vigo. When Lanthe had believed Vigo was an ordinary Raphlish person like herself and Alina's son...

"...So I came suddenly. Excuse me."

While she rambled incoherently, the priest approached with quick steps and wordlessly took Lanthe's hand.

And wrapped Lanthe's one hand between her own two warm ones.

No words came. Puzzled and bewildered, Lanthe raised her gaze to meet only the priest's tender smile—completely unexpected.

She was conveying countless words through that wordless smile alone.

You came. Welcome. I know you.

Lanthe's wariness melted away completely and she squeezed the woman's hands tightly. A familiar smile, a familiar greeting. When she'd gone to Roas church and stood there awkwardly looking for a seat, the priests had always smiled at her just like this.

"Thank you for welcoming me, priestess."

When she smiled shyly, the priest nodded with a bright face too. She seemed unable to speak—the priest pointed toward the building with her eyes and hand gestures, guiding the way.

"Um, if Father Conor isn't here, I'd like to make an appointment in advance."

When Lanthe spoke while following her, the woman shook her head.

He's here.

She mouthed the words and smiled broadly.

"That's fortunate."

Without knowing why, Lanthe smiled along with her.

It felt like escaping a lightless valley, passing through a mysterious lake and forest, and returning to Roas after a long time.