It had been about ten days since I was given the title of Provisional Saint-in-training.
The line in front of the clinic was noticeably shorter now. While detoxification magic didn't immediately restore a person's strength, it did provide a cure. There were no patients returning for a second visit. Since the poisoned grain had already been burned, almost no one was newly falling ill. Those still lining up were people with mild symptoms who had been pushed to the back of the priority list.
“It looks like we’ll be able to finish early today,” Big Sister Therese said.
The city was beginning to settle down enough for her to say things like that.
And so, we could finally resume what had been put on hold.
◇◇◇
That afternoon, I was in a room deep within the Marquis’s manor. From today, I was resuming the treatment for Lady Clarissa’s face. The sessions had been suspended ever since the poison crisis began.
The moment I entered the room, Lady Clarissa stood up. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and looked straight at me. The look in her eyes was a world away from the frightened gaze she’d had when we first met.
“Lord Rein. I have heard that the people of the city are calling you the White Angel.”
“Uh... ah, yes. Well, they’re just calling me that on their own.”
“I heard it from my ladies-in-waiting. They say you have saved thousands of people all by yourself.”
Lady Clarissa took a step closer, her grip tightening on her clasped hands.
“I thought to myself: the people have finally realized it....I, however, have known since the day of our very first treatment.”
She wasn’t joking. Her eyes held the same religious fervor as the people who had knelt before me at the church.
“I’m not an angel or anything. I’m just a little good at magic.”
“No.”
Her response was immediate, leaving no room for doubt.
“No matter what you say, Lord Rein, that is what you are to me.”
In the corner of the room, Marchioness Ahrens gave a troubled smile. I felt an itchy, restless sensation on my back and tried to change the subject to escape the intensity.
“A-Anyway... let’s get started. I’ve kept you waiting a long time.”
“Yes....Yes. I have been waiting for this.”
The treatment, our first in a long while, went off without a hitch. The marks on her face faded a little more.
“How much longer will it take?”
“About a week more, I think. We’re almost there.”
“...I see.”
Her voice was small. She sounded happy, yet I thought I heard a trace of something else mixed in. I couldn’t tell what it was.
◇◇◇
After the treatment, I returned to our guest room. There was still a bit of daylight left.
When I opened the window, I could see the street leading to the city gates. A wagon covered with a cloth was heading out toward the gate. I could tell what was inside by the way the mounds pushed against the fabric. They were bodies.
The cemetery was outside the city. I remembered hearing the nursing staff talk about it—they were expanding it beyond the original fence because so many people had died from the poison.
Lately, I hadn't been having that dream as often, but until recently, there were truly a great many people who had died at the clinic because I couldn't reach them in time.
—If I had been just a little bit faster at healing them, perhaps the cemetery would have been a little smaller.
Just then, I heard the sound of a bell.
It was the church bell. It continued to ring slowly, at regular intervals. I already knew it was the Bell of Requiem.
I counted one, two... but I lost track somewhere along the way.
“They say there are seven funerals today. Their strength just didn't hold out.”
Turning around, I saw Big Sister Therese standing in the doorway.
“...I healed so many people today, too. And yet.”
I couldn't find the words to finish.
Something warm traced a path down my cheek. I wiped it with the back of my hand, and only then did I realize I was crying. Once I started, I couldn't stop.
Big Sister came to my side in silence. She didn't mention the fact that I was crying.
“Rein. Your big sister was taken in by the Church when she was six, trained in magic, and has been providing treatment ever since. I’ve seen all kinds of patients. People who were injured, people afflicted by poison... and people I didn't reach in time.”
“...Yeah.”
“Of course, I’ve saved many people. Even so, I remember the ones I didn't reach in time much better than the ones I saved.”
When I remained silent, Big Sister placed her hand gently on my head.
“I won’t tell you not to think about it. I think about it, too. But you see, at times like those, I try to think about the people I did save. It makes things easier.”
“...Yeah.”
“Now, go and rest for today. You have Lady Clarissa’s treatment tomorrow too, don’t you? —Let’s start by healing the wounds we can heal, all right?”
Outside the window, the sunset was gradually fading into night. The bell had stopped ringing.
◇◇◇
Around the same time, at the Church Headquarters in the Royal Capital.
There was a frantic knocking at the office door.
“Cardinal. An express messenger has arrived.”
Cardinal Fesenmeier’s brow furrowed at the news, and he scowled when he saw the sealed letter presented to him. This was the fastest possible delivery, involving riders switching horses day and night without rest. Whatever arrived this way was invariably a herald of disaster.
He broke the seal. It was from the Bishop in charge of the territory adjacent to the Marquisate of Ahrens.
As I read through it, I felt my fingertips grow cold.
‘—The first patient collapsed eight days prior to the writing of this letter. As of yesterday, approximately three hundred have taken to their beds. The number is increasing with each passing day. Some have begun to show darkening at their fingertips. It appears to be the same affliction that struck the Marquisate of Ahrens.’
The letter concluded in a hand that looked as though it were trembling:
‘News of the miracle in the Marquisate of Ahrens has reached us here as well. Before this city follows the same path as that one, I humbly beseech you. Please dispatch the Saint and the White Angel.’
I placed the letter on the desk and let out a long breath.
If it were only Therese, the matter would be simple. She is a Saint of the Church. She can be moved with a single command. Through training since childhood, she can treat more patients than most, but alone, she is but a single drop in the ocean.
The one truly needed was the White Angel.
However, he was not a member of the Church. He was a child of House Werl. There was no way the Church could issue orders to the child of a nobleman.
“Just what am I to do...”
Literally many lives depended on this decision. I could not afford to make a mistake. The pressure caused a cold, unpleasant sweat to break out on my back, and I felt my stomach begin to churn with a sharp, stabbing pain.
If I recalled correctly, the son—Rein-dono, I believe he was called—was twelve years old or thereabouts. Given his age, it would be appropriate to seek the judgment of the head of the house. Should I make an inquiry to Count Werl?
Sending an express messenger from the Royal Capital to the County of Werl, waiting for the head's approval, and then heading to the Marquisate of Ahrens after receiving the reply—just how many days would that take?
How many people would die in the meantime?
“...Let those with life fulfill that life, I pray.”
The words of prayer spilled from my lips. They were words I had recited for decades. Healing for the sick. A second breath for the wounded.
“Knowing full well it is an outrageous breach of protocol, I have no choice but to ask Rein-dono directly. It will mean incurring a great debt to House Werl and Rein-dono, but... it cannot be helped.”
And it was not just any debt. If the fact that the Church relied on an outsider for healing were to become public, it would deal a near-fatal blow to the prestige of the Church, which held healing as its central pillar. It would no longer be a matter of mere reputation in the frontier. It would hand over a weakness that could never be made public.
I understood. Even so, there was no other way.
I took up my quill.
One letter was to Therese. A dispatch order for the Saint.
The other was a letter of request written in the name of the Church, addressed to a child who had not even reached adulthood.
“...Truly, it is a pathetic tale.”
I dipped the nib into the ink and slowly wrote the first line.
Outside the window, the evening bell began to ring.
Normally, horses are not sent out once this bell has rung. But—tonight, they must be sent.
I did not stop my hand as I moved the pen.