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Volume 5: Princess Clärchen

The holy city of Thera Maryth, capital of the Eunice Theocracy and headquarters of the Saintess’ Church.

Of the three great gates that serve as the grand entrances to this major metropolis of the Livitium Imperial Kingdom—always bustling with citizens, traveling merchants, pilgrims, wandering minstrels, and adventurers—only the northern gate remains sealed. At the western gate, a guardsman named Eurico has served for over thirty years. His proudest boast is that, in his youth, he saw Shrine Maiden Princess Clara up close several times, received her kind words—“Thank you as always for your duties”—and even had the honor of shaking her hand as a keepsake. (That day, incidentally, his colleagues, angry at his “going ahead alone,” each gave him a punch and made him treat them to drinks.)

—Now that my children are grown and even my grandchildren are of marriageable age, perhaps it is time to step away from this post.

So thought Eurico, who had been forced to retire as a soldier after taking an arrow to the knee in his youth, as he rubbed that same knee, which had begun to ache all the more in recent years.

Besides… above all, the holy city itself now feels diminished. Since Lady Clara left the priesthood, and especially after the news ten years ago that she had passed away, it has seemed a lonelier, less radiant place.

—Perhaps I could move to a warmer southern region, or somewhere convenient in the west, and make that my final home.

In recent years, it had become clear that the number of visitors to the holy city had steadily declined, and along with it, the Church’s prestige had begun to wane. Though few would say it aloud, longtime residents could clearly feel the city’s decline in their daily lives.

Yet, despite thinking this, Eurico couldn’t quite bring himself to make a decisive choice—partly because he had lived in this city for so long, and above all—

“Hey, did you hear? That dwarf artist who painted Princess Clara’s portrait… can’t remember his name… apparently met Lady Clara herself just a year or two ago.”
“Really!? That’s not some rumor, is it? After all, it’s coming from a non-human.”
“No, even for a non-human, his eye for beauty is impeccable. His brushwork is delicate, and his portraits are so precise that no one else can match him. Even now, he’s in high demand in royal courts across the world. Well, he’s reportedly as stubborn as most dwarves, but the fact that such a person claims to have met her in person makes it believable, doesn’t it?”
“Hmmm… but still…”

Merchants from other regions—though still within the territory of the Imperial Kingdom—stood in front of the gates, chatting idly while waiting for their carts to be inspected.

Eurico listened to their conversation without really intending to, and he couldn’t suppress the flutter in his chest, a mixture of disbelief and tentative hope.

Yes, at this moment, the holy city of Thera Maryth was quietly brimming with a subtle, simmering excitement.
The spark had come from a single rumor.

About a year ago, the town of Clarus in the northern Arlea region—closely tied to the Shrine Maiden Princess—had been plunged into terror by the demon Igoronak the No-Life King.
This had almost caused a major disaster during the “Quartz Lake Full Moon Night Incident.”

As word of this spread, taking months to reach all corners of Eunice Theocracy and even beyond the Imperial Kingdom, across the entire continent, the initial shock of “Impossible…” gradually turned into a flicker of hope: “Could it really be…?”

The one who defeated the resurrected No-Life King was none other than Shrine Maiden Princess Clara herself, who suddenly appeared from the sky riding a divine beast. Her divine presence and overwhelming mana were confirmed not only by the young nobles from various countries present at the scene and their guarding adventurers, but also by members of the St. Campbell Church who had previously met Clara in person—they all gave their unequivocal stamp of approval. Such was the rumor.

As the story spread, more and more people—especially in the Cilento Central Capital—began saying things like:

“Now that I think about it, I feel like I’ve seen Lady Clara before.”
“When you mention it… that time…”
“I only caught a glimpse of her back, though.”
“My grandfather says he saw Lady Clara down in the well.”

With more and more eyewitness accounts surfacing, once again the name of Lady Clara began to appear on the lips of people, even in this holy city.

Originally the headquarters of the Saintess’ Church and the heartland of shrine maidens, this place held a high level of popularity for “Shrine Maiden Princess Clara.” Even now, in many large shops, portraits of Lady Clara were displayed, so it would not be an exaggeration to say that people of all ages—young and old, men and women—knew of her.

And so, on a serene day of prayer in early spring, when the winter snow was beginning to melt (a Sunday), the quiet excitement in the holy city reached its peak.

The first to notice it was Eurico, as usual, handling the procedures for travelers on foot with relatively light luggage.

A female pilgrim wearing a hood pulled low over her face—when Eurico first asked for her adventurer’s permit, he pointed out that it had not been updated for about a year and was thus currently inactive. Reluctantly, she produced a platinum holy seal that only someone of cardinal rank or higher could possess. Eurico almost shouted, “Impossible!?” but after checking multiple times, he confirmed it was genuine. Incidentally, a colleague two decades younger, standing nearby, had openly exclaimed, “Impossible!? That’s a fake, old man!” when an impoverished elderly man produced a similar platinum holy seal, earning disapproving looks. Eurico, on the other hand, returned the seal with reverent hands:

“There is no mistake. Please proceed.”

And so, the pilgrim passed the inspection almost like a free pass.

Ideally, he would have liked her to remove the hood and show her face, but as a lowly official, there was no way he could make such a discourteous demand of someone so exalted.

Even so, she’s so young for a member of the clergy… probably a shrine maiden—had he ever seen anyone like her before? Watching her poised stance and her ample figure discernible even through the robe, Eurico tilted his head in curiosity.

—And yet, it felt as though he had met her somewhere before…

For some reason, his chest stirred unaccountably as he looked at her.

The pilgrim, having received the holy seal back from Eurico, slightly revealed a hint of her mouth beneath the hood—enough to show she was remarkably beautiful—and with a voice as clear and delicate as the ringing of celestial bells, said:

“Thank you as always for your duties.”
“!!!!??”

Eurico’s eyes widened almost to the point of popping out.

Then, noticing that Eurico was subtly limping, she said,

“An old injury? You seem to be in some discomfort… —if you’ll allow me a moment.”

Her white, exquisitely delicate hand, as pure as virgin snow, touched the injured knee.

“「Light of compassion, illuminate the fleeting flow of time and restore what once was」—「Memento Mori」.’”

Immediately, a soft light enveloped Eurico’s leg.

“……”

Eurico was speechless.

As she stood and joined that conspicuously noticeable group of companions, passing by, Eurico remained frozen, as if under a petrification spell, staring unblinkingly at her back.

“…Eurico?”

A colleague, growing suspicious, called out to him, but Eurico, still with a vacant expression, continued to watch the hooded maiden until she turned down the street.

Stepping forward unsteadily, Eurico suddenly realized that the pain in his knee had vanished as if it had never been there. He gasped, then was overwhelmed by a torrent of tears.

“…She has returned.”
“—?”
“That person… has come back to the Holy City…”

Soon, similar murmurs spread wherever she was seen, and like ripples gathering into a great wave, the whispers grew into a city-wide frenzy—covering the entire Holy City in ecstatic turmoil.