I Picked Up a Saintess from the Ruins - I Picked Up a Saintess from the Ruins chapter 3

3 – 1. Found in Ruins

The girl named Lycia must be around ten years old by now.

I could tell because there were comparisons in the church where I stayed. Compared to those who sang about puppies and kittens as their future aspirations, Lycia seemed somewhat mature for her age.

“Grow up well.”

“…”

There was no response from the girl until she went to bed after the stifling mealtime.

However, it didn’t mean she denied reality alone or burst into tears. She simply lay in bed, quietly looking at the sky, presumably deep in thought.

I didn’t realize until morning that Alicia was pondering concerns more suitable for adults than children. I opened my eyes, stamped out the remaining embers of the fire with my foot, and then grabbed a piece of the same hard bread from yesterday for breakfast.

As I was mixing beer and bread in my mouth, Alicia asked me, “Is it impossible for miracles to happen to everyone?”

It was a time when religion and life were not so different. From the moment of birth, one’s name was recorded in the church register, and at the moment of death, the church conducted the funeral. The church was deeply involved in every aspect of life.

Even though there were times when it exhibited thuggish behavior, the church’s existence was also salvation, so many musings took on a religious hue like this.

If it were about a past life, it would be a difficult question to answer due to the shortness of the bag strap in this life.

Therefore, the answer I could provide was largely theoretical. But at the same time, I had to consider the girl’s situation.

With the progressive mental care system of the sincere child welfare of the 21st century in mind, I answered cautiously, “It’s a sad reality, but yes.”

“Then, how should I save the people who are precious to me, not myself?”

Perhaps it was a question about keeping family in mind. Tears were forming in her eyes.

People once idolized and longed for miracles.

They were once objects of admiration and longing, but they fell from that position as the world became bleak.

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“Pray. Perhaps a miracle might happen.”

“I don’t know. What is a miracle, and why is it so irrational?”

I tried to shift the topic to prayer, a solution that everyone could empathize with, fitting for medieval sensibilities, but the girl seemed to have more thoughts on this than I did.

In the end, I decided to throw all of this to the church. After all, it’s the place where, as stated in the doctrine, you were supposed to do that in the first place.

“The church will teach you many things. You might find the answers there.”

“Is that so?”

“To become a great adult later on, all you need to do is learn what’s taught.”

Considering it was the words of a bag strap ascetic, it lacked persuasiveness.

But Lycia’s question ended there.

Not because the doubt was resolved, but rather, it was evident from her silent gaze into the sky, even as she stood on her horse, that she was organizing her thoughts.

“We’re setting off.”

“….”

Leaving the girl in my thoughts, I gripped the reins and turned the horse’s head towards the destination.

*****

I, who was an orphan, grew up in a church in my early years.

But who could be an orphan from the moment of birth?

To understand this, it’s necessary to examine the life trajectory of Lavine, an enthusiastic young man from the medieval era.

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

First and foremost, there’s one thing to clarify: Lavine is a name I made up myself. Now, no one remembers, but about a dozen years ago, the name I used was Leo.

Here, there’s a somewhat personal and tumultuous family history intertwined.

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

How domestic he was, creating three or four households, the world can be quite cruel.

And unwillingly admitting it, I was one of his illegitimate children.

Until around the age of seven, I thought I didn’t have a father.

One day, full of grief for my mother’s death and uncertainty about the future, it was like that until a group of unfamiliar men, without even a reservation, arrived at the house, stomping in with muddy feet.

The man standing at the forefront of those men asked me. Later, I found out he was the Earl who owned the territory where I lived.

“Who do you resemble? You’ve grown quite healthy.”

“Who are you?”

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

“Yes, she said he was killed in an attack by bandits…”

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

The Earl made a proposition to me. It was more like an announcement than a proposal.

“Leave. And never let yourself be seen again.”

“…What?”

He decided to send me away to a distant place. I still don’t exactly know the reason for it.

Judging by his aged face, perhaps the Earl needed to eliminate potential obstacles to solidify the succession structure. That’s my guess, looking at it now. At that time, I was oblivious to how the world worked, but in retrospect, casting away the illegitimate child was a rather reasonable decision.

Unlike other secular lords of this era who would have quietly ‘disposed’ of me, it might have been due to his lingering paternal affection, or he didn’t want to burden himself with the sins he would carry after his death. He might not have known that this seemingly merciful act would slightly reduce the burden of guilt he would bear in the afterlife.

In a world where miracles existed, the desire for salvation overflowed. Or maybe he believed that the harsh realities of life would take care of my demise. Personally, I support this hypothesis.

When an ordinary seven-year-old was thrown into the wilderness of the medieval era, survival was virtually impossible. Unless you were the second iteration of that child’s life.

Anyway, with only a handful of coins, I wandered for a while and, as a result of various strokes of luck, happened to enter a church.

This church is located right here.

The city I arrived at, Volle, looked exactly as I remembered it from over a decade ago. The towering spire of the grand church, the bells, and even the stone statues.

It was a familiar sight. With more than a decade having passed, people around had changed a lot, and there were subtle changes in the buildings. However, despite the passage of time, there was a warm atmosphere, like the unchanged hometown.

I went to the stable in front of the church and tied up the horse. I gave a few coins to the boy in charge and told him to feed the horse well.

“Yah.”

“……”

It seemed difficult for the girl to jump down alone like me, so I helped her get off separately.

After that, I walked around the church with the girl. Where can I find someone to talk to… Ah, there.

I saw a familiar face in the distance.

It was the priest I saw when I was in the church. His impressive beard, which twisted at the end, was hard to forget.

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

Even if it was the second from the bottom, it was by no means a low position. The higher the position on the ladder of the clergy, the fewer there were, so in a small town like this, it was a position that could be counted on one hand if all the nearby villages were gathered together.

It would be easier to skip the tedious procedures and talk to someone higher up. After all, delays weren’t meant for times like this.

With that thought in mind, I waved my hand slightly, and Father Pippin noticed me.

After apologizing to the surrounding subdeacons, he approached me.

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

“Nothing special. Is everything okay at the church?”

“Not really. The world is in a bit of a stir, with the recent commotion in the papal court.”

“What’s going on?”

“It seems that the tension between the emperor and His Holiness the Pope is increasing. There are quite a few people saying that something big is about to happen soon.”

We exchanged pleasantries and brief updates. When it seemed like the greetings were enough, Father Pippin glanced at Lycia and asked me.

“Who is this child?”

“She was brought from a village that was swept away by barbarians. It seems like the ones who used to be only in the north have changed their route and come this way.”

“Unfortunate turn of events. May they find salvation.”

The priest, who had just uttered a short prayer, glanced at Lycia and noticed the faint bandages covering minor wounds here and there.

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

After a brief hesitation, Lycia cast a fleeting glance in my direction before nodding to indicate it was fine. The girl extended her hand.

The priest took her hand and mumbled a soft prayer. On closer listening, it seemed to be a supplication.

Simultaneously, a white, gentle light gathered at the priest’s fingertips. As it touched Lycia’s wounds, even the remaining traces of blood vanished immaculately. Lycia, apparently sensing something had occurred, opened her eyes slightly wider and discreetly peeked at the bandages encircling her injured area.

In moments like these, one couldn’t help but feel that this place was indeed a fantasy world.

To think scars could be healed with a simple gesture. It shattered my identity as an engineer filled with reason and logic.

Silently observing this, the priest, now finished with the treatment, turned his head towards me.

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

“It brings back memories. I’ll take you up on the offer for a short respite.”

This is as far as my capabilities, borne out of my overzealous curiosity, could go.

With a few words of farewell, wishing Lycia well, the extent of what I could do came to an end.