The Legacy of the Living
"Sister Roberta is the head priest of Dithmarschen."
At Beatrice's explanation, Giacomo's eyes widened.
"Dithmarschen? Ah, I see."
Then his gaze sharpened.
"Even so, she hasn't been a head priest for even two years yet…"
"The length of time isn't important. Even if you stayed by his side for a hundred or a thousand years, it would still be nothing compared to his life. What matters is how much of his true nature you've seen. Sister Roberta must have witnessed things in those mere two years that can't be found in old texts or oral traditions. Isn't that right?"
When she answered yes, Beatrice shrugged and continued.
"We already know Duke Ulrich's true name—so is there any reason for you to keep hiding it? Or is there something that makes it difficult to talk about?"
Being asked to reveal someone else's secrets—what reason would there be for it not to be difficult?
Yet it was equally hard to flatly say, "I cannot speak of it." They already knew Ulrich's identity. He had revealed it himself, so pretending ignorance was no longer an option. Roberta also felt that speaking of it might align better with his wishes.
"Just in case, what I'm about to say is merely—"
"Your personal perspective, right? I know. That's exactly what I want to hear."
After a brief moment of hesitation, Roberta opened her mouth.
"…It all began with a proposal from Lord Alonso."
She added that he was the bishop of the Noir Grand Temple.
"He asked me if I would go to Dithmarschen. The head priest there had gone missing, leaving the position vacant, and I was told His Holiness asked Lord Alonso to recommend a successor."
"You must have been quite happy," Beatrice said with a faint smile.
"No. I actually wanted to refuse."
At the time, Roberta was in her early twenties, a regular priest who had only recently received ordination. Sending someone like her as a head priest—it was an unprecedented appointment, but the reason behind it didn't sit well with her.
"Ah… so back then, you didn't know much about Dithmarschen either."
Roberta nodded once or twice.
"I didn't. At most, I knew it as the entrance to the Ice Peninsula—a place where even the previous priest had disappeared due to issues with the lord. I asked Lord Alonso about the territory and its lord, but he told me to go and see for myself instead of explaining."
"He didn't tell you? At all?"
"Yes. Nothing."
Beatrice frowned slightly, lost in thought.
"…Could it be that Lord Alonso didn't know?"
Instead of answering, Roberta shook her head.
Alonso knew Ulrich's past. Ulrich himself had mentioned it. She didn't know how much he knew, but he certainly knew that Hestio was one of his former names.
The reason Alonso told her nothing was because he didn't want her to form preconceptions. If she had known Ulrich's past from the beginning, she would have approached him as a believer. It was likely he thought it better for her to approach him with suspicion as a strange lord and come to understand him gradually.
"Anyway, what happened next?"
"On my way to my assignment, I asked around for news. That was when I first learned that the lord of Dithmarschen was a duke named Ulrich. I also learned that he was the one who ended the 32-year civil war of the Osnover Kingdom, that the current king belonged to his clan, and that he had ruled the territory for over 300 years."
As she spoke, she glanced at the two clergymen.
Beatrice listened calmly while sipping her tea, and Giacomo remained still with his arms crossed. Given their positions—and the relationship between the Pantheon and Osnover—they likely already knew much of this.
"When I heard he had lived for over 300 years, I assumed the Duke of Dithmarschen was a half-blood between human and fairy—a Galua. I also thought he would be an old man."
"But when you saw him, he was incredibly young."
With a faint smile, Roberta nodded.
"So I suspected he might be a double. His appearance was far too different from the rumors—and when I first met him, Lord Ulrich was personally administering a sacrament."
At that, both clergymen leaned forward slightly.
"A sacrament?" Giacomo asked.
"A baptism."
"The lord himself?"
"Yes."
Roberta continued.
"Since Father Clemens, the previous priest, disappeared, Dithmarschen had no official priest. Rather than inviting a priest or monk from a neighboring territory, Lord Ulrich performed the sacrament himself."
Someone who hadn't received ordination performing a sacrament?
It was madness. And yet, the sacrament succeeded. That made Roberta suspect that perhaps someone who had received divine grace was merely pretending to be the lord.
"And as I said, he looked young as well…"
"There's no way you wouldn't be suspicious," Giacomo said with a bitter smile.
"When I asked if he was a half-blood, he even claimed to be a pure human."
Looking back now, that had been a direct revelation of his identity—but at the time, she dismissed it as nonsense. A human whose ancestors had never mingled with another race? That would mean he had lived since the age of the gods.
"You showed remarkable restraint, Sister."
Since it had once been Alonso's posting, she assumed that if there had truly been a problem, the Pantheon would not have left it alone. She thought perhaps he was teasing her as a novice—or hiding some secret.
"Instead, I began to question everything. Why had the priest disappeared? How could someone without divine grace administer a sacrament? How could he remain young after living for hundreds of years?"
That very evening, she even witnessed him suffer a near-fatal wound—only for it to heal instantly before her eyes.
Roberta went on to recount everything: beginning with the story of the old knight Rashid and his son, to the visitors from the Kingdom of Carbonihar, to the dragon of the Ice Peninsula—everything up to the present.
Though she skipped many details along the way, just as many conversations filled the gaps. Beatrice and Giacomo reacted strongly to anything connected to Ulrich's true nature.
When it was revealed that a fleeing witch had collapsed because she had withdrawn a sacrament… when his name was erased from the register of evil gods and newly inscribed among the good… when the severed lineage of spiritists was restored… they sighed and made the sign of the cross.
"You said it was only two years, didn't you?"
When the story ended, Giacomo leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.
By now, the sun outside the window was sinking, casting a red glow.
"…They were full two years."
"I doubt anyone has spent them more fully than you," Beatrice remarked.
Roberta smiled awkwardly.
The two clergymen fell silent. As if digesting the story, they crossed their arms, closed their eyes, or stared at the table while sipping their now-cold tea. After a moment, Giacomo opened his eyes.
"May I ask you something?"
"Yes. Of course. Though… was there something problematic from your perspective?"
"Well… you could say that. But I don't mean any offense."
After a pause, the archbishop spoke.
"How did you become a head priest?"
His gaze carefully examined her face.
"I was appointed because Lord Alonso recommended me—"
"No, that's not it. I want to know why you were recommended."
He was searching for something. Something he knew—something familiar. And she realized what it was.
"If you suspect a special relationship between Lord Alonso and me, he is like a father to me. But we are not related by blood. He simply took me in after my mother abandoned me."
"For that, the treatment you received seems excessive."
"Isn't it common for a celibate priest to treat an orphaned acolyte like their own child?"
She glanced briefly at Beatrice.
The archbishop, who knew her background, let out a low hum.
"Do you remember what your mother was like?"
Roberta shook her head.
"I was too young to remember. Lord Alonso seems to know, but he rarely speaks of it. I've only heard that they knew each other before I was born."
"I'm sorry. That must have been an unpleasant memory, and I brought it up unnecessarily."
"No, it's alright. I understand. It's something I was curious about as well."
Resting his elbows on the table and propping his chin on his hand, Giacomo let out a sigh.
"Dithmarschen is directly governed by the Kormillius family. Until now, it's always been filled by a branch member of that lineage—or by someone of great prestige." He gestured with his chin toward Beatrice. "Even Archbishop Vinicio, who raised this sister here, tried several times when he was young, but failed to secure that position."
She had thought it strange even when she first received the appointment. Sending a priest who had only just received divine grace—it felt excessive.
Dithmarschen was remote even among remote lands, a dangerous place where the previous priest had disappeared, and on top of that, it was recommended by Alonso—so she hadn't questioned it deeply at the time.
But the more she learned of the truth, the less sense the appointment made.
"Kormillius must be desperate if they're pushing Osnover this far. And yet they sent you—someone with absolutely no connection to that family. It's truly strange. Could it really have been just because of Alonso's recommendation?"
***
Even late into the night, Ulrich remained in the artifact vault.
Fritz was nowhere to be seen. Ulrich wandered alone through the vast storage, examining each artifact one by one.
There were quite a lot of them, but not so many that it should take this long.
He was probably waiting for her.
She deliberately made her footsteps audible as she approached from behind.
"Are you finished with your story?"
"Yes… well, I suppose I've said everything I had to say."
As her voice trailed off, he turned from the display case and looked at her.
"You don't look well. It seems less like you've solved something and more like you've found something."
She opened her mouth to speak—the words had risen all the way to just below her throat.
But they wouldn't come out.
After hesitating while looking at him, she closed her mouth again and shifted her gaze to an artifact over his shoulder.
"What about what you said you would check?"
"Hm. I finished long ago. I was just confirming the list Giacomo gave me."
"You said it was a list of artifacts given by a fairy named Praselli."
"As expected. They were mainly after my belongings."
"The ones you made yourself?"
"Including things I've used," Ulrich added, reaching toward the display shelf.
"In a way, it may sound like boasting, but among what remains as my so-called legacy, there are few that are ordinary. To begin with, I rarely have reason to use items fine enough to be considered artifacts. And when I do, they are naturally things of great value."
What he picked up was a flat piece of jade. It resembled a distorted crescent moon, smaller than a forefinger in length, with a string attached through a hole at the end.
Ulrich handed it to Roberta.
"This is one of them. Hang it somewhere convenient. It has the effect of driving away illness and healing wounds."
"It's not something extraordinary, but…" he added.
Roberta looked down at the jade in her hand, then raised her head.
"This isn't something just anyone can use, is it?"
"If it were, it wouldn't be here."
In other words, did that mean she possessed the qualifications?
Her lips parted slightly.
"Um… Lord Ulrich."
Ulrich quietly looked at her.
His calm, dark eyes.
The moment she met his gaze, the words that had risen to her throat once again seemed to catch on something unseen and refused to come out.
"Go on."
"…Am I your descendant?"
The words she had intended to swallow slipped out reflexively.
At the same time, her face flushed hot.
What nonsense am I saying? The thought screamed through her mind.
"Why would you think that?"
"While talking with those two…"
"I suppose you began to question why you were assigned there—or why I chose to bring you along."
With a faint, strained voice, she answered, "Yes."
"We are not related by blood. If you trace things back to the very beginning, perhaps we might connect—but as you know, if you call that blood relation, then everyone in the world would be kin."
Ulrich pointed at the jade.
"The reason its effect works is because I permit it. There is no other reason."
"I see…"
Scratching the back of her head, she let out a sigh. Her face was still hot, and inside she felt both embarrassment and relief. She was embarrassed at herself for asking such a ridiculous question—and relieved that her suspicion had been wrong.
She had once jokingly thought it would be amusing if it were true.
But when she seriously considered it, it felt burdensome—like becoming the eye of a storm in an already chaotic world.
She lifted her head, about to smile awkwardly—but met his gaze.
Despite her absurd question, he remained calm. He was still looking at her, as if waiting for what she would say next.
Suddenly, her intuition whispered to her.
Her smile faded.
And unlike before, she asked in a steady voice:
"Then… if not by blood?"
Ulrich spoke.
"It seems I may have been a bit hasty in letting you meet those two."
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