SALP Chapter 19

5. Children of Raphlang

"Have you been well, Miss Lanthe?"

Father Conor, who was said to possess exceptional healing prayer abilities, turned out to be unexpectedly young—he didn't look even thirty yet.

And he was remarkably handsome.

Black hair and blue eyes. Narrow, almond-shaped. A straight nose. Lips slightly thin but composed. A jawline like something carved for the purpose of being sharp. An expression that gave nothing away.

The kind of face, at first glance, that produces distance—that radiates cold. But his voice alone overflowed with the gentleness a priest's should.

She was aware that as first impressions of a devout priest went, hers was deeply impure, but there was no denying that what had struck her powerfully at first sight was his exceptional appearance.

"Yes. Thanks to your care, I've recovered completely and am doing well. I should have come to thank you right away, but I'm sorry it took so long."

When Lanthe bowed her head, he smiled faintly.

"You've only just woken up, after all—barely a few days. In fact, we rarely have residents who enjoy visiting our church. I can't remember the last time someone came to see me on a weekday who wasn't a patient seeking healing prayer."

It seemed this denomination using the name Hestan was a minority religion in Penmark.

How lonely and exhausting that must be. He performed healing prayers—gave people that—and still no one came.

"I attended a church similar to this one back home. I'll definitely come every Sunday from now on."

"Oh. If things go well, we might even see our lord at our church soon."

"Vigo doesn't come to church?"

"No."

Father Conor sighed and narrowed his brow slightly.

"Our lord made a devotional pledge at the Temple of Batiya."

'Vigo goes to which temple?'

Lanthe's mouth fell open.

Batiya, goddess of the earth.

Along with Ailea, goddess of water, she was said to be one of the most beloved deities among Penmarkians, competing for first or second place.

But Vigo had been someone who attended the Raphlish church more diligently than anyone, enjoying even the scriptures and hymns. Angel, angel. Angel, angel—he'd said it so often she'd sneered at him privately, called him a naïve true-believer with nothing in his head but faith.

And now he'd even changed his faith?

She was someone who'd periodically doubted that there was neither god nor angel in the world even after the lake incident at Newbella, but somehow it was shocking to hear that Vigo had abandoned his once-deep faith.

Moreover, the goddess Batiya was also called the Conqueror.

That Vigo, who worshipped her, would think nothing of war and invasion—of course. Of course he wouldn't.

"Still, he's not exactly a devoted believer, I hear."

Father Conor added, as if reading her shock.

"Do you not see the opening? It is the present fashion, after all, for a married couple to settle on a single deity between them. If you show sufficient resolution, our lord will eventually find himself with no choice but to come over to our church. That is my considered assessment."

And he smiled warmly.

Married couple...?

Switch churches...?

Lanthe tilted her head at the incomprehensible expressions.

"By our lord coming, our church could escape poverty and become wealthier than the lord's own castle—I'm saying it's not impossible."

Father Conor kindly provided a detailed explanation.

"It would be a great benefit. First of all, the chapel that doesn't even fill ten people even on Sundays would transform into being packed full. Ah, and if the congregation grows, funds for expanding the chapel will naturally gather, so don't worry about our church being cramped. Aah—what a magnificent future stretches before us."

He narrowed his eyes and trailed off wistfully.

"If only this were also a vision from the angel Akaiel, and not merely my own hope..."

...For some reason, even though the priest's robes were identical, the church symbol was identical, and angels appeared just the same, the priest seemed to have become somewhat Penmarkized. Or maybe that was natural since he was Penmarkian to begin with?

"Um, I only know about the angel of Eründel, but it seems there's also an angel named Akaiel. You must know a lot about angels, Father?"

Lanthe smiled awkwardly and changed the subject.

"Shamefully, I'm not well-versed in recorded history outside the Iditi scriptures. I know of only one angel—the angel Akaiel."

Father Conor said, brushing the corner of his eye with his slender fingers.

"The angel of Eründel—wasn't that the guardian angel of the Kingdom of Raphlang? I also grew up hearing stories from my grandfather that there's a view that angel was the angel Akaiel. My grandfather also heard those stories from his grandfather..."

Then he suddenly rose partway from his seat.

"By any chance, can you read, Miss Lanthe?"

"Yes. If it's the Oden common language—"

"How fortunate."

He sprang from his seat before she'd even finished speaking.

"You don't know how heartbroken I've been that there was no one to read the precious books our priests have painstakingly collected through generations. Our lord enjoys books but doesn't read our church's books much."

Wow, so Vigo learned to read too. Well, of course he would have, becoming a lord. He likes books, they say. That suits the little Vigo of long ago, but doesn't really suit the adult Vigo now.

Curious, Lanthe followed the priest.

"I recently acquired a book that briefly mentions the story of Eründel's guardian angel. Since our lord is away on inspection and you must be feeling lonely, why don't you enrich your soul by reading the new simplified scripture, testimonies, and historical texts?"

There's a book with writing about the angel of Eründel?

She hurried after him.

"This is our library."

The place Father Conor led her to was a room like a small chapel. If not for the fact that one wall was filled with books, it would have looked like an ordinary chapel.

"Wow..."

Easily several hundred books were displayed on the shelves. It was a collection comparable to the library Fiarelle had shown her. Books were supposed to be very expensive, yet for a poor church to have collected so many was eye-popping.

"Including the books we've lent to churches in other regions, there are about a thousand volumes. There are general books too, so please come read anytime, Miss Lanthe."

Father Conor said, gazing at the books with satisfaction.

〈Penmark Geography Guide〉  〈Simplified Scripture〉  〈Ecology of the Northern Sea〉  〈Prayers of Hestan〉

Lanthe's eyes gradually widened as she skimmed the book titles.

〈Songs the Angel Taught〉

"...Can I really read any of these?"

〈A Small and Vast Paradise〉

"Oh, that is this priest's wish, Miss Lanthe."

Her chest pounded with an eagerness she hadn't felt when forced to read and learn by those detestable people.

She could tell that some of what she absolutely needed to know was here.

"Then today I'll take this book..."

It was when she pulled out a volume.

'What was the first thing you should think of, Lanthe?'

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

'Somehow... I've found my way properly, Aunt Louise.'

'The person I came to thank is giving me something again.'

"Father Conor."

Lanthe turned to him, holding the book to her chest.

"Thank you. For healing me. And for letting me read these books too."

When she bowed her head, the priest's eyes widened as if startled, then he bowed his head in return. The cold impression—the one that had persisted even through his smiles—melted, at last, into something that matched what his voice had always been.

"I'm also grateful that I've been allowed to meet someone like you again in this cold land."

I thought he was frightening.

As befitting a priest who preached love, he actually praised her instead, making Lanthe cover her face with the book and giggle like a ten-year-old girl as she sat on the long bench. Father Conor left the room, saying he'd bring tea.

And the moment she opened the first page—

"Ah, Sir Warner."

She remembered her forgotten companion.

He must still be waiting outside. She should tell him she'd read before leaving.

It was the moment Lanthe stood and turned.

Flash—somewhere, a sharp red light stung her eyes. Something seemed to have reflected the sunlight coming through the window. As she blinked her stinging eyes and moved toward the door, a person's shadow fell inward from the corridor, which was darker than the room.

Someone blocked her path.

"...What."

For a moment she thought it was the priest returning because the shadow was similar in height to Father Conor's, but it wasn't.

"Who are you?"

A voice slightly high for a man, low and husky for a woman.

"Ah, I'm..."

Lanthe stepped back, intimidated.

Brilliant reddish-gold hair, hazelnut-colored eyes, and a sword at the waist.

She could only tell this was a "knight."

Too tall and broad for what Lanthe's eyes called a woman, but too lean for the kind of body Hermea's knights wore as a matter of course. Despite this ambiguous frame, the person radiated a dangerous feeling different from the violent, ominous energy she'd felt from Newbella's soldiers.

"I'm, I'm a member of the Hestan Church. I came to meet with the priest."

She answered defensively, concealing her identity.

That they didn't know who she was even after seeing her appearance likely meant they weren't Vigo's subordinate. Hadn't all the castle knights recognized her as if they'd received instructions?

Moreover, the person's cloak was worn as if it had rolled through dust, yet the red jewel below the shoulder looked more extravagant than King Kian's.

Definitely not an Eltzweig knight. They seem to "know" something about me...

"A member?"

The person stepped even closer. The corners of the mouth lifted as if in mockery.

"Where are you from?"

Lanthe shuffled backward. Should she scream? She hadn't been harmed yet—would it just be an unnecessary bother?

"Speak up. Before I gobble you right up..."

"Dame Skaeli."

Then someone else entered the room.

"If you delay any longer, you won't make it to the meeting. You haven't forgotten that if you miss this meeting too, you'll be expelled from the association?"

"I know."

The person sighed deeply, softening the penetrating gaze that had seemed ready to pierce Lanthe. But the threatening atmosphere didn't disappear completely.

"Then let's save greetings for next time."

'Why are they acting like that? Do they know something about Raphlish people?'

Lanthe pressed herself against the wall, making way for the knight entering the room.

"Hmm."

The person approached the bookshelf, passing her. Looking more closely now, she was holding a book. After scanning the shelves briefly as if determining the location, she slid the book into place.

"I'll just show my face to Father Conor and head to the meeting hall."

"I'll give you five minutes."

"Plenty."

"Five minutes includes mounting your horse."

"Is that even possible?"

They glared at each other before heading into the corridor. And Father Conor's voice could be heard too. He must have spotted them on his way back.

Lanthe remained standing against the wall, looking at the bookshelf.

〈Raphlang〉

The book the savage-tempered knight had shelved.