My birth family was said to have produced saints for generations. In recognition for this achievement, they’d been elevated from commoner status to the honorable rank of “pioutor” by the king. They’d since built themselves a large mansion in the capital, where they lived in comfort and abundance.
But...this thing is new, right? I wondered as I gazed up.
In the garden of the brick-walled mansion where I’d spent my earliest years stood a massive bronze statue that I had absolutely no recollection of. It had been a relief to finally spot the Safka estate after following the housewife’s directions, but then I started feeling like something felt out of place, and...here it was. A statue of a woman of some sort.
What is this?
The statue depicted a figure kneeling on the ground, with both hands clasped together in prayer. She had a graceful smile on her face and seemed to exude dignity. In front of the statue was a stone monument with some text carved into it.
“Evelyn Safka, 17th Saint of the Holy Kingdom of Snasile,” I read. So...this is me, then?
But the statue looked more like Mary than me. Speaking of, since Mary and I had different mothers, we honestly didn’t look very much alike. Which meant the statue and I looked nothing alike whatsoever.
The housewife’s words echoed in my mind. “Far be it from me to bad-mouth the saint’s relatives, but that family? Total money-grubbers. I hear they extort people—charge ’em a lot of coin just to see the house.”
So that’s what she meant, I thought.
I was a bit slow on the uptake, but things were starting to come together: My father and stepmother were taking advantage of my position as saint to line their own pockets.
“Hey,” came a voice.
Surprised, I turned around to find a middle-aged man in sunglasses standing behind me. Maybe I’d been standing in front of the garden for too long?
Wait.
Slowly, my eyes widened. There was no mistaking it—he was obviously older than the man I remembered, wore jewelry with ridiculously large gems all over, and seemed to have expanded to three times his original bulk, but...probably, without a doubt, maybe, definitely, this was my father!
My lips trembled. I was about to say, “Father!” when he stroked his beard and held out a palm toward me.
“Howdy-ho! Five silver pieces,” he said.
“Huh?”
“A viewing fee for the statue and mansion, mm-hmm? Commemorative photos with the statue cost extra, mm-hmm? Now you know so you can’t say you don’t, yes? Excuses are free, the world is not, missy.”
“Huh?!”
Pardon? Huh? What? Excuses are free?
Ignoring my confusion, a woman emerged from behind my father. She was slim but, like him, was covered in dangly jewelry from head to toe. Both of them were so sparkly, they hurt to look at directly.
“Oh dear, dear dear, dear madam! We really must insist that you pay! We must make a living, after all!” she said.
That’s my stepmother!
She chuckled daintily. “Five silver pieces is an absolute steal! This is the house where St. Evelyn grew up, after all! And we have many exhibits inside as well! We have mud pies she crafted with her own two hands, and the first sheet she ever wet—”
“Gaaaaaaaah!”
I couldn’t stand there listening to this any longer and sprinted away at full speed, screaming.
“Oh? Not a tourist? Please, no trespassing. Call the guards, perhaps, we should,” my father said behind me.
I ran until I could no longer hear his weird, broken speech. I ran and ran, wheezing all the way.
I’m so stupid!
What else could I have expected from people who had ignored me for over twenty years? I should’ve known. The two of them hadn’t even recognized me. Worse, they had the first sheet I’d ever wet on display! For money! That was all I needed to know, right there.
I’m seriously such an idiot!
I didn’t want my eyes to get all swollen from crying again, so I smacked my cheeks as hard as I could. And it hurt. Tremendously. Really, it hurt beyond belief. I’d overdone it.
But hey, the tears had vanished, so there was that.
This is no time to lose heart over such minor things!
After all, I was in a truly desperate situation. Because, you see...
I’m broke. I’m so broke!
Indeed. I had no money whatsoever. I’d left the basilica with nothing but the clothes on my back. I had no one left to ask for help and no acquaintances to speak of.
Staying at an inn would probably cost money too...
Back at the basilica, they had this book about a traveling hero and princess, and they would stay the night at inns in various towns. I’d loved the idea of a sword-wielding hero and a spell-slinging healer princess, so I’d read that book over and over. And in it, the hero would always pay the innkeepers money.
The weather was warm during spring, but the idea of sleeping curled up in a back alley somewhere was...not great. Also, probably not ideal even in the royal capital with its strict security.
Besides tonight’s lodging, I had a second pressing concern: the pathetic grumbling from my belly area, which happened to ring out in the middle of my contemplation of my first pressing concern. What terrible timing. Or great timing, I supposed, depending on whom you asked.
“I’m so hungry...” I mumbled. I should’ve gotten an extra helping of soup for breakfast...