At night in the Academy Territory, one could feel a languid mood unique to the city, something that couldn't be felt in the Imperial Capital.
Of course, the numerous students rotting away for over a year without being able to leave the Academy would find it hard to agree with the above sentence,
but to the New Student 'Gwen', who hadn't even been at the Academy for a week, it seemed so.
The night marking one week since her matriculation into the Department of Healing Arts.
While countless students tossed and turned in their blankets, unable to gather their wits after a week of experiencing the grueling schedule,
New Student Gwen was unable to fall asleep late into the night for a different reason.
Scratch, scratch.
A fountain pen that looked rather expensive for someone with a Mercenary mother to use,
glided down the expensive parchment, which was hard to afford with a student's allowance.
「Hello, Archbishop.
It's me, Gwen.
(Just in case you don't immediately recall who I am, I'm mentioning again that I am the youngest child.)
Thanks to the Archbishop helping with my tuition, I am also able to study in a place like this.
The fact still feels like a dream.
I once again offer a prayer of gratitude to the gods for having a connection with the Archbishop and getting to enjoy such fortune.
And I should have sent this letter sooner, I apologize for being late.
The first week was so hectic that I completely forgot about the letter.
Please generously forgive me.
School life is fortunately...」
Her fountain pen stopped for a moment.
It was because the thought occurred to her that she didn't need to use the expression 'fortunately'.
She gathered Divine Power in her fingertips and carefully rubbed over the word.
It was a technique that was an application of Purification Magic.
Rub, rub━
The ink stain that had seeped into the parchment disappeared as if washed away.
Unintentionally, not just the ink but even the parchment's grime was erased.
An unnatural mark remained where the word had been, as if it alone had been bleached.
Gwen held a bitter smile as she continued the letter.
「School life is going well.
I've made many good friends, and though the classes are difficult, I think I can keep up.
Ah, right.
There's something I absolutely must tell you.
None other than the Saintess of the Lamp called me a friend.」
Once again, Gwen's fountain pen hesitated.
It was because she remembered what the elders of the Mencia Sect had instructed her before she came to the Academy.
— "Don't be nervous, Gwen."
— "You just need to find the Saintess of the Lamp and the Saintess of the Dawn at the Academy."
— "Understood? You just have to naturally become friends with them."
Gwen was the youngest child of the Mencia Sect.
And a youngest child who hadn't changed positions even after several years.
It wasn't as if she particularly wanted to end up in this situation.
She had merely thrown herself in here because she heard the Mencia Sect was a sect that could treat patients like her mother.
Yet in less than one month, the Mencia Sect had fallen into ruin.
No youngest child entered the Mencia Sect after her, and she had already grown too attached to the sect to leave.
The elders of the Mencia Sect had placed a heavy burden on the shoulders of such a youngest child.
— "And by whatever means necessary..."
— "Learn the Secret Technique to revive our sect from the Saint."
— "We originally had the qualification to enjoy that technique. So there's no need to feel guilt."
Gwen's heart felt heavy.
It was because the desperate eyes of the Priest and Bishop who had instructed her came to mind.
But what made her heart heaviest of all were the words of the Third-in-Command of the Sect, 'Archbishop Dormund'.
— "It is entirely my fault."
The day after the elders had given their instructions.
Archbishop Dormund had called Gwen privately into his office and said this:
— "It is entirely my fault. Through my stubbornness, I have driven our proud sect onto the path of ruin."
— "Gwen... You do not need to shoulder my karma."
Archbishop Dormund Mencia.
A mentor who had poured affection on her unsparingly, simply because she was the last youngest child of the Mencia Sect.
He was living day by day, deeply regretting the choices he had made in the past.
— "Parasites... Germs... Do not be in denial of them."
As someone who had just become an adult, Gwen found it difficult to understand Archbishop Dormund's contradictory Speech and Conduct.
Why did he deny the knowledge, yet tell her that the knowledge was correct?
Why did he acknowledge the fact that he was wrong, yet not change his stance?
Why...
'Why won't he just proudly beg for the Saint's forgiveness...'
To Gwen, these were deeds that simply could not be understood.
However, Gwen couldn't 'dare' express her doubt about such behavior from Dormund and the elders.
The closed, coercive rank culture unique to Healers did not permit her to raise such doubts.
Ultimately, Gwen had no choice but to come to the Academy without being certain of what the elders wanted from her.
'He told me... to become friends with the Saintess, so...'
She merely crammed content into her letters so that the elders would be as satisfied as possible.
「I was able to become friends with the Saintess of the Lamp, but I couldn't meet the Saintess of the Dawn you mentioned.」
Accurately speaking, it was closer to not being able to find her.
This was because, unlike the Saintess of the Lamp, nothing was known about the Saintess of the Dawn.
The rumor that she attended the Academy was only a rumor spread among clerics, and had not been confirmed.
「Still, the Saintess of the Lamp truly considers a child like me to be a friend.
I couldn't believe it at first, but the Saintess is someone who reaches out a hand regardless of one's sect.
She calls me Sister Gwen, and I'm looking forward to her calling me by my name sooner or later.
Though it's too gracious for me to dare say her name out loud, so I'm still calling her Saintess.」
Having finished the sentence, the fountain pen hesitated once again.
It was due to her lacking the judgment on whether she could write the following sentence as is.
What the elders desired.
And what Archbishop Dormund desired.
Amidst the contradictory expectations aimed at her, the girl deliberated.
Soon, she made up her mind and moved her fountain pen.
「I was also able to meet the Saint.
Even knowing that I'm from the Mencia Sect, the Saint taught me many things.
Among them, he taught me the Dosage Instructions for an Antibiotic called 'Prontosil'; they say if we have this Antibiotic, many epidemics can be cured.
However, he said it'd be difficult for him to teach Runic formulas or Divine Magic using it as a Catalyst himself, as those aren't his area of expertise...
He said that once I graduate and undergo Training at the Infirmary, I'll naturally come to know it.
Please wait.
I will definitely learn techniques that are helpful to our sect and return.」
[From the Youngest Shepherd of the Mencia Sect, Gwen]
***
Crackle, crackle. Inside the room where the candlelight's height was shrinking to that of a little kid.
An elderly Priest, straddling the line between middle-aged and old, looked down at the letter relying on that small light.
[From the Youngest Shepherd of the Mencia Sect, Gwen]
A wrinkled hand carefully unfolded the stationery.
As he read the aligned letters on the paper, a smile close to satisfaction formed around his Eye area.
"Yes... I'm glad you're doing well."
The Capital of the Empire.
Dormund Mencia, Director of the Mencia Sect's Grand Infirmary, muttered.
"There's no need for you to play along with this old man's stubbornness."
It had already been a year since Director Schun introduced parasites and Germs.
It was enough time for the majesty of the Antibiotic he introduced to spread implicitly through the Field of Healing Arts.
During that time, Dormund and the Mencia Sect couldn't logically help but acknowledge it.
That Director Schun's Theory was accurate, and that Germs were real.
Furthermore, that the deeds of the Mencia Sect denying The Schnabel Couple's Accomplishment in the past were wrong,
and even the fact that they had been regressing the Healing Arts for Decades due to their own delusions.
But reason and emotion are separate domains.
The moment power gets tangled in it, humans were Living organisms capable of distorting even that truth.
'There are 2 years left until the Cardinal retires...'
This was also why Dormund Mencia was being stubborn.
The First-in-Command of the Sect in each sect is the corresponding Cardinal.
And in a situation where the Second-in-Command of the Sect of the Mencia Sect was only interested in pilgrimages and showed no Interest in the Position of Cardinal.
Therefore, the role of Next Cardinal in the Mencia Sect was practically Dormund's.
'Just until then... I just have to hold out until then...'
Originally, he had planned on Keeping silent for 15 years.
By then, Dormund Mencia would have already retired and spent The rest of one's life doing Volunteer Work.
However, as The Black Saint developed an Antibiotic earlier than expected, he had no choice but to change his plans.
2 years.
In 2 years, he would become a Cardinal.
Basically, the Position of Cardinal is a seat that isn't shaken by just any gossip.
Thus, if it was after he became a Cardinal,
'It won't be too late to acknowledge my mistakes then.'
This was not solely Dormund's thought.
A sect basically takes on the tendencies of a family united by Faith.
In a good sense, it means they treat each other like family; in a bad sense, it means it is an Organization with severe Shielding one's own.
Since the Mencia Sect also knew Dormund's Circumstances, they were all covering their eyes from the truth together like this.
Perhaps because it was a closed organization with a strict rank system, they couldn't dare go against the will of the candidate for Next Cardinal.
"..."
Dormund Mencia rubbed his fingers, which were squeaky with cold sweat.
The advice of an old Elf also came to mind.
— "Sometimes, one must learn to step outside of logic and empty oneself. You are a sturdier person than you think."
He tightly clenched his fist, drenched in cold sweat.
Ever since he was a Newborn baby, Dormund had never let go of what he grasped.
It was because he had never learned how.
At the same time, the instruction he had given Gwen came to mind.
— "Do not be in denial of what you learn at the Academy."
He didn't know how to let go of what he held.
But he was advising his Successor to learn how to let go.
Full of contradictions.
That word wouldn't leave his head.
However, that contradiction might have best explained the essence of the human he was.
*
Time passed.
Letters from the Academy began piling up one by one in Archbishop Dormund's Desk Drawer.
「Archbishop, it's Gwen.
You don't know how happy I was to get a Reply to my last letter.
I'll also push myself to work harder.
Since you asked about the Saint in your last reply, I'll tell you in more detail.
The Saint is a fascinating person.
Even though I clearly told him I'm from the Mencia Sect, he didn't hesitate in the slightest and I could see he was trying to teach me even more.
At other infirmaries, they purposely mix useless ores and the like into Catalysts as a trick, right?
But instead, the Saint makes no effort to hide anything, saying, 'This is an unnecessary catalyst for this reason.'
Since he hides nothing, sometimes I don't even know what I should steal and write down, so I just hold my pen.
Ah, saying 'steal' is weird. I'm sorry.
Anyway, I'll make more Effort.
I will absolutely return and be of help.」
[From the Youngest Shepherd of the Mencia Sect, Gwen]
The letters continued to pile up.
Arriving roughly Once a week, the youngest child's letters constantly knocked on the door to the Archbishop's heart.
「I'm writing this here after much thought.
I didn't know, but at the Meyer Infirmary, the other healers apparently knew I was from the Mencia Sect and purposefully didn't show me many things.
A prime example is that they no longer use Mercury for Syphilis treatment, yet the Instructors I was under Observation for were always using Mercury.
My Senior told me later that they purposefully showed me flawed knowledge because they knew I was from the Mencia Sect ○.」
On some days, the ink at the end of the sentence was smudged.
Archbishop Dormund could recognize at a glance that those were the tears of the youngest child.
Thinking that she had Sent it as is without even noticing the ink she smudged while crying, it felt as though his chest was being torn apart.
If it were the Mencia Sect during its brilliant past, they might have used this as Justification to track down that healer and serve Retribution.
However, the current Mencia Sect couldn't do that.
Not only did they lack the power, but their own faults played a large role in how they ended up like this.
Archbishop Dormund ruminated over his miserable Feelings as he stared at the calendar.
2 years.
No, he just had to endure for about 1 year and 11 months.
Like that, the next letter piled up in his drawer.
「A strange thing happened last week.
The Instructor who had been showing me the wrong knowledge gave me an Apology.
Not just him, but the other students too.
I asked Senior Jenny the reason later, and well, it seems the fact that I was being ostracized reached the Saint's ears.
And as for what he did, um, I'm a bit clumsy at writing so I'll write down the Saint's Words exactly as Senior Jenny told me.
— "You seem to have some free time lately; would you mind helping write Textbooks to teach the students?"
— "You know the new Treatment Method for Syphilis well, Instructor? Syphilis can be treated with Malaria and Quinine, after all."
— "But I heard you taught Student Gwen last time that Mercury is used for Syphilis?"
I doubt the Saint actually spoke like this, though.
At least according to what Senior Jenny told me, he had a Meeting with the Instructors who ostracized me like this.
As expected, the Saint seems to be someone who doesn't discriminate just because I'm from the Mencia Sect.」
"..."
Archbishop Dormund's hands trembled faintly.
Of course, there was an overwhelming sense of emotion, but that wasn't the reason his hands trembled.
There was one reason he was trembling.
It was because of Shame.
"..."
As he turned his head to the side, his reflection in the window appeared like a shameful self-portrait.
Archbishop Dormund wordlessly piled the letters in his desk drawer.
Even after that, the letters continued to pile up.
Gwen kept conveying a single Message to the elders of the Mencia Sect.
「The Saint neither hates nor discriminates against our sect.」
The continuously piling letters.
Archbishop Dormund could find himself increasingly fearing the youngest child's letters.
Because the more he read those letters, the more it felt like the musty Pride he had left to rot in a corner was piercing his chest.
And then Gwen's 8th letter— it was the day marking 2 months since her matriculation.
「To the Archbishop.
I've been thinking constantly about it.
The Archbishop knows that Germs are correct.
You told me not to be in denial.
Yet you tell those on the outside that they aren't.
I still don't really understand why that is.
However, Archbishop.
Could you not just say that you're sorry?
The Saint will definitely accept it.
The Revered One is not someone who belittles people over such things.」
"..."
Having read that letter, the Archbishop deeply lowered his head.
In truth, he had subtly realized it.
While sending letters every week.
The youngest child was subtly telling him.
To stop being stubborn now.
The youngest child wanted the Archbishop to end his stubbornness.
The Archbishop, realizing that Intention, spat out words to himself without realizing.
"How dare..."
A single phrase squeezed out from between his dry lips.
It was a Reflex ingrained in his body over a long period.
The youngest child of the sect, a young thing who hadn't even received Ordination, was guiding the path for the Archbishop.
A child standing at the very bottom of the rank ladder, daringly passing down Teachings towards the top of it.
"How dare...!"
The next words rose up to his Throat.
Arrogant brat. Unaware of your place━
However, those words ultimately failed to exit his mouth.
The words shattered at the tip of his tongue.
It was due to the urgent dissuasion of his instincts, sensing that the moment he uttered it, the kind of human he was would be permanently settled.
Or perhaps it was as if his pride, reduced to nothing more than rags, was warning him that this was his last Opportunity.
"..."
The Flame of the Magic-powered lamp flickered faintly.
His heart also wavered this way and that.
Dormund slowly closed his eyes.
Something was burning right in the middle of his chest.
At first, he named it anger.
An anger born of an old man's Pride being scratched by a young thing.
Yet he couldn't be certain that it was anger.
Anger does not make a person this small.
Anger does not make one unable to face their own face reflected in the window.
Anger does not make one's chest hurt so agonizingly.
If so, then this is━
From behind his closed Eyelids, Dormund groped for the name of that emotion.
While groping, he ultimately ended up grasping it.
And then he regretted it, thinking he'd rather not have grasped it.
'Yes...'
He recalled the name of that emotion.
It was Jealousy.
He was jealous of the youngest child.
Unlike him, who had become Fallen Leaves counting only the days until he could run away to being Cardinal, she had become a fresh Sprout, painting only a Future where she became a Giant Tree.
While he was blurring his eyes in pursuit of power,
she was chasing Truth and faith with shining eyes.
He had forgotten his Original intention, and she was sharpening her Original intention every day, refining it into pride.
"...Original intention... is it."
Dormund peered inside himself.
Wondering if there had ever been a time when he had something like that child's.
But no matter how much he groped around, every drawer other than the one where the letters were piled was completely empty.
— "Originally, pride and a Lust for power are a Paper-thin difference."
The elf's words brushed past his ears once more.
Pride and a lust for power.
Dormund once again felt that he was standing at a crossroads.
He no longer deliberated.
Instead, he took a long, very long breath.
As if regurgitating all the old emotions stagnating deep in his Lungs, he let out a long breath.
And unfolding the hand he had spent his Lifetime keeping clenched, he rang a bell.
"...Is anyone there?"
It was a Voice like an old bell.
The Attendant Priest who had been waiting outside the door carefully opened it and stepped in.
And Several days later,
the News that the director of the Mencia Infirmary, Archbishop Dormund, and several other healers of the Mencia Sect were resigning spread like wildfire.
*
「There was once a Married couple who sowed seeds for the first time in barren land.
Deeming those seeds unfamiliar, I judged them to be Weeds and plowed over the field.
I overturned the soil before they could sprout, cut off the waterways, and clamored that only weeds were proliferating in that spot.
I have never once sowed seeds.
Burning the fields sowed by others, I called farming.
Comforting myself that I was weeding out what was wrong, I trampled and killed the sprouts that were trying to grow green.
Now, I see the fields dyed in a golden hue.
The Saint sowed seeds in that spot once more, watered the parched earth, and finally made them bear grain.
In the fields I burned down, the seeds I thought I had killed inevitably raised their heads.
The season of harvest has come, but I do not have the qualification to take up a sickle.
How could one who did not sow reap?
How could one who burned the fields covet the grain?
I only dare to make one Request.
There is one young seed who nestled into our sect the latest.
Unlike me, that child sows without calculating, and grows without nitpicking.
That child honed and polished the Original intention I had lost, every single day.
Please let that young sprout alone grow to her heart's content in the Saint's field.
Do not weed her out just because she came from Mencia's soil, and share the Sunlight with her just as you do now. That would be enough.
This insolent servant wishes to spend the rest of his life in the lowest of places, so may the Saint dare take pity on us.」
The day before the news of Archbishop Dormund's resignation reached us, it was a letter that arrived before me, The Black Saint.
After sending this letter, it was said he left the capital, stating he would devote the rest of his life to the restoration of the Southern Front.
Furthermore, the wind of reform that blew through the Mencia Sect didn't simply end with the resignation of the Old geezers.
Cardinal Mencia made a Declaration that from this moment on, the Mencia Sect would disclose all of the secret techniques they possessed.
They sent a request asking us to inspect the secret techniques unique to the Mencia Sect, which originally wouldn't have been published in the textbooks of Department of Healing Arts students, and include them all in the textbooks.
The reason was understood.
'Because if things stay as they are, there's only a future where they wither and die.'
In any case, the Mencia Sect now had no way to survive without antibiotics.
So they were simply throwing open the doors of their sect boldly.
It was practically a declaration to let go of all their Vested interests.
'How ironic.'
They were the most exclusive sect towards me.
To think they'd open their doors first, even before other sects.
And that too, in the midst of other sects only thinking about what they can take from me without a thought to give.
The even more ironic part is that thanks to their noble decision, a way for me to give a Reward emerged.
'To think that the Mencia Sect already held a clue.'
The ancient secret technique of the Mencia Sect.
Within it existed a technique of covering wounds with Moldy Bread and applying divine magic.
Because of the issue where some Mold worked and others didn't,
and the discovery of a much easier-to-obtain catalyst in the form of Holy Water mixed with Salt and Herbs, it was a catalyst that was no longer used.
Anyway, there was a Record that Moldy Bread was placed on the Pus of wounds.
As soon as I read that part, I conducted an Experiment that any Doctor wouldn't be able to resist.
And the next day.
'I never even dreamed it would be White Mold instead of Blue.'
The clue to Humanity's greatest Invention had fallen into my hands.
What's more, I had been deliberating over how to craft a story when people asked later how I knew to experiment with mold, but now I had acquired the perfect justification.
Perhaps that's why.
'Still, it would be good to note down the Mencia Sect's Contribution Level, right?'
Suddenly, I Started feeling the urge to show affection towards the Mencia Sect.