***
By the time she entered Ditmarschen, the season was summer. Because it was a place bordering the polar region known as the Ice Peninsula, the feeling of summer was faint. Even though the sky was clear and the sunlight poured down, the heat was driven away by the north wind, which was quite fierce.
The center of the territory was the small city of Freiche. Its origins were said to lie in a hill fortress built long ago around the time the region’s old name was forgotten and it began to be considered part of the Ice Peninsula to block the creatures of the evil gods from descending.
As the temperature rose and the snow melted, humans naturally migrated there, and it was said to have become the center as the Lord preceding Ulrich, Hilde, used the fortress as a base to pioneer the surrounding area.
From a distance, Priest Roberta viewed the panoramic sight of the city atop the hill.
‘I heard the people here live like nomads, and those words were true.’
Below the hill, tent houses were encamped.
They were the round tents commonly seen in nomadic cultures. They were things called Gers or Yurts, houses made for easy assembly and disassembly by nomads who moved their residences according to the season.
The domain of Ditmarschen was vast, but with the exception of the southernmost tip, it was an environment where farming was difficult. Because of that, it was said that the people had no choice but to take up animal husbandry and hunting as their vocations. The Lord resided in and ruled from Freiche Castle, while the subjects lived like nomads.
‘There are no castle walls either.’
Because of that, there was merely a single small castle situated atop the hill. There were no outer walls at all to protect the surrounding residential areas. In any case, if the weather changed, the entire residential area would simply depart.
‘I wonder if the temple is inside the castle?’
Suddenly, a curiosity bordering on anxiety arose.
If one of those tents scattered down there was the temple, did that not mean she would have to live a wandering life throughout her term of appointment? A mobile temple. Although it was something one would naturally experience upon becoming a military chaplain, she hoped that at least her first post would be made of stone, even if it were small.
She let out a hollow laugh at her own self-interest and urged her horse forward.
“Where have you come from?”
When she arrived in front of the castle gate, a guard blocked her path.
“As one who serves Ganimeanim, I have come seeking to meet the Lordnim.”
Roberta took off her glove and displayed her open palm.
A blue pattern surfaced upon her bare palm. It was something that symbolized Ganimea, one of the gods of the Pantheon, and served as proof that Roberta was one who had received priestly ordination.
“Please wait a moment.”
The guard went inside the castle and soon returned with a middle-aged man. That middle-aged person was a human with distinct characteristics of a Southerner, having brown skin and red eyes.
‘His height is immense.’
Furthermore, he was bald and considerably tall.
‘It seems as if some giant’s blood is mixed in him.’
Roberta herself was quite tall, so whenever rituals were performed at the temple, men were reluctant to stand beside her, yet he was taller than her by the height of two heads put together.
“Did you say you were a priest of Ganimeanim?”
Additionally, his voice was a low bass that felt like it was scraping. How could she not be frightened when a giant was looking down at her with red eyes while keeping his voice low? She calmed her startled heart and offered an awkward smile.
“Yes. I am called Roberta. I was sent by Alonsonim, the Parish Head of the Nua Great Temple.”
“By Alonsonim?”
The middle-aged man raised his voice.
“If it is not an imposition, what is your relationship with Alonsonim…?”
“Alonsonim is the one who took me in and raised me.”
“Ah, I see! He is still a person with much affection, then.”
Joy was evident in his voice.
“Is Alonsonim in good health?”
“Of course. He personally asked me to convey the message that he wished he could have come himself.”
“It would have been truly wonderful if that were the case; it is a shame.”
He kissed the back of her hand.
“My introduction is late. I am Bernhard Meyer. Please call me Bern. By receiving the grace of Ulrichnim, I serve him by his side.”
Bern introduced himself as the butler of the Ditmarschen family.
“Alonsonim came here even earlier than I did. I remember his age back then was just a little over thirty… It seems the time has finally come for someone to succeed him like this.”
He spoke as if reminiscing about old memories.
“Time truly seems to flow quite quickly. When I think of Alonsonim, the memories are still vivid. He was a truly kind-hearted person who did not shy away from rough work and would occasionally give snacks to children he saw struggling with small chores.”
Compared to his overwhelming appearance, his way of speaking was unexpectedly gentle. Roberta thought that he might be a kinder person than he looked, but because the way he carried himself was identical to when Alonso would sink deep into thought, she quickly opened her mouth.
“I would like to meet the Lordnim.”
“He has stepped away for a moment. It will take quite some time for him to return. If you are alright with it, I would like to guide you to the temple first in the meantime.”
Roberta was about to answer that she would do so, but a doubt occurred to her.
Considering the Lord’s age, should he not be groaning in bed?
“May I ask what business he is away for?”
“He went to perform a Sacrament.”
“A Sacrament?”
A Sacrament referred to religious rituals in general. Rainmaking rites, funerals, and priestly ordination (or reception) ceremonies were representative examples, and depending on the sect within the Pantheon, the types varied from as few as six to as many as twenty-three.
This was a ritual that only a priest could preside over.
“I suppose there was another priest-nim?”
Suddenly, she wondered if the missing priest had returned. That couldn't be. He hadn't shown his face for nearly a year; could there be any reason other than death?
Had they invited a priest from a neighboring territory? That was a method commonly chosen if a responsible priest was not on-site in a situation where a Sacrament could not be delayed.
However, Bern shook his head.
“No. The Lordnim will be presiding over it himself.”
“What does that mean…?”
Her eyes grew wide and round.
“Did the Lordnim receive priestly ordination or something?”
A look of ‘oops’ flickered across Bern’s face. Then, closing his mouth, he subtly avoided her gaze. Roberta opened her eyes even wider than before. What on earth does this mean? she shrieked internally.
“He is truly performing a Sacrament? The Lordnim, himself?”
“Yes.”
Roberta felt her mouth becoming bone-dry. Like a person who had to confirm what had happened to someone who fell off a cliff, she managed to open her mouth and asked.
“Wh-What kind of Sacrament is it?”
“It is an Infant Sacrament.”
She swallowed a scream and clutched her head with both hands.
‘Of all things!’
The Infant Sacrament was the ritual considered the most important among all Sacraments.
It was said that in the very beginning, the world was covered in fire. At that time, when the earth had not yet taken shape, the gods visited, drew water to extinguish the fires, raised the land, and brought life to bloom.
However, since life was fragile and could not grow easily, the gods scattered power throughout the world so that life could adapt to the harsh environment, and that was precisely Mana.
The Infant Sacrament was the act of connecting a single life with the heavens so that Mana could dwell within a person. Some also expressed this as entering one’s name into the heavenly register.
Unless the body was too weak because it was immediately after birth, or if it were a baby abandoned somewhere in the mountains, it was a ritual that must be received. By receiving the ritual, one was truly recognized as a person. Conversely, it also meant that a person who had not received the Infant Sacrament was not treated as a human being.
This was the Infant Sacrament, and for that reason, it was the most important ritual.
‘Just what is he thinking, performing an Infant Sacrament when he isn't even a priest!’
What would happen if an Infant Sacrament were performed by someone who had not received priestly ordination? Usually, no problems occurred even if the ritual was performed, but occasionally—truly, very occasionally—one would come into contact with an evil god.
Evil gods are beings who were driven out to hell after clashing with the main gods of the Pantheon over the direction of creation. There was no need to explain the meaning of becoming their servant.
“If a human who has not undergone ordination presides over a Sacrament, they could inadvertently be branded as a heretic! Surely you must know that? A-Actually, let’s stop talking about this.”
She climbed back onto her horse.
“Where is the Lordnim? I must see him right now.”
Roberta glared at Bern. He scratched his head awkwardly. He looked like someone who knew what the problem was, but unlike the heretics she had seen, he did not get flustered or make excuses. Not only him, but even the guard standing beside him showed no particular reaction.
‘What kind of….’
Because of that appearance, she was the one who felt flabbergasted instead.
“It is not very far. This place gathers babies born last summer and performs the Sacrament all at once the following summer. If you go down from here for about half a day, you will be able to see him.”
Bern gestured with his chin toward the guard. As the guard mounted his horse, Roberta quickly galloped after him.
******
She went back the way she had come.
Whether it was poor luck or not, the ceremony was being held at a location slightly to the east of the path Roberta had taken. She saw a group of people and a flock of sheep grazing nearby.
‘Wait, they aren't sheep. Is there monster blood mixed in?’
From afar, the fluffy white fur made them look like sheep, but up close, their appearance was closer to a cow covered in wool. Since she had never seen or heard of such an animal, she judged that it had monster blood mixed in.
Ditmarschen and the no-man's land above it, the Ice Peninsula, were lands where the descendants of monsters born in pre-historic times lived and breathed. It would be common for grazing livestock to mate with monsters.
However, normally, because the wild nature of monsters is inherited, domestication is impossible. She had never heard of them being tamed to the point where they could be grazed like this.
‘The Lord must have done this too.’
She knit her brows. From the disappearance of the head priest and the heretical sacrament to the monsters, she found it difficult to think well of the Lord. If it hadn't been for the recommendation of Alonso, whom she followed like a father, she might have run to the Pantheon right away to write an indictment.
She spurred her horse.
People were gathered in a place slightly away from the herd of livestock. Even from a distance, one could tell that some kind of ceremony was taking place.
‘If it is still in progress, I must stop it.’
In the middle of the group, a woman was wrapping a baby in swaddling clothes and handing it to a young man. The baby struggled, trying not to be separated from the woman who appeared to be its mother, and burst into tears as soon as it was held by him.
“—! ——!”
It was so loud that it reached Roberta's ears. He held the baby and soothed it by patting it. The baby's crying, which seemed loud enough to tear the sky apart, subsided as she drew closer to the group.
“Where is the Lordnim?”
Roberta shifted her gaze from the baby to the crowd. She had to find the Lord. A three-hundred-year-old man, a scoundrel who performed sacraments at will, she had to find him.
However, there was no old man who seemed to be the Lord among the crowd.
She slowly rode her horse around the outside of the crowd and moved her gaze, but an unknown anxiety only built up in her mind. There was no old man she felt certain was "this person."
“He is right there.”
There?
When she turned her head again, the man from a moment ago was just lifting the baby and pressing his forehead against it. On the surface, it felt as though he was playing with the baby because it was cute.
Roberta was about to ask the soldier who had guided her where on earth the Lord was, but at that moment, her eyes widened.
“What in the….”
Red veins spread in all directions across the baby's face like tattoos.
A soft light arose centered on the forehead touching the young man, and as that light permeated the baby, it flowed along the blood vessels. The crowd gasped at the sight. And she also inadvertently let out a sound.
Only the baby, unaware of what was happening to its own body, giggled as if it were ticklish and patted his cheeks with its two hands.
‘Unbelievable.’
Roberta could not believe it.
Mana does not dwell within a person who has not received a sacrament.
If someone tries to pass on the mana they hold within their body to another, mana may dwell there temporarily.
However, that is only temporary. Once the force compelling the mana vanishes, it is bound to scatter naturally.
But the appearance of that baby was that of one accepting the mana coming from the outside as its own.
Because it was a young body, the mana it could hold was extremely minimal, yet it did not vomit it back out.
Why would that be?
Why would mana dwell within the baby?
It was because its name was entered in the register, because its name was engraved in the heavens, and thus it had attained the qualification.
‘This life is qualified to wield the power the gods scattered upon the world,’ which signified that an Infant Sacrament had been performed.
And that was through a connection with the heavens, not an evil god.
“H-How?”
How could he enter a name in the heavenly register without even being a priest?
She muttered that it was impossible, unable to even think about closing her agape mouth.
The doubt that had been crawling up in one corner of her heart began to transform into certainty.
‘They said the Lord went to perform the sacrament.’
Then who was the young man in the middle of the group performing the sacrament?
The old priest had said: the oldest mixed-blood he had seen was three hundred years old, and that Duke's appearance was like a mummy.
Roberta had also seen mixed-bloods, and their appearances were similar. Mixed-bloods cannot avoid aging. Even if aging is not contained within the blood of a fairy, it is contained within the blood of a human.
When the blood of the two races is mixed, their descendants become beings subject to the flow of time.
‘Then, the Lord of Ditmarschen is...?’
The young man returned the baby to its mother and turned around. The crowd standing behind him stepped back and opened a path.
Roberta remained frozen atop her horse's saddle until he arrived before her horse's head.
“Did you come because you were worried? It seems Bern made another slip of the tongue.”
Roberta suddenly recalled her conversation with the old priest.
She understood why the old priest had tilted his head when she referred to the Lord as "the old man." Also why he had called the Lord "bizarre."
No matter how she looked at him, he was too young.
It was an appearance in which the passage of time could not be felt in the slightest.
“······.”
Roberta tried to open her mouth to say, "Are you..."
Are you the Lord of Ditmarschen? But even though she opened her mouth, the words got stuck in her throat and would not come out.
Looking up at her, he said:
“Yes. I am the Lord of Ditmarschen, Ulrich.”
******