A Grand Gift and a Final Journey

When Anto felt well enough to rise from his bed, it was already the afternoon of the following day.

He rose from his bed, slowly made his way to the window, gathered his hair into a ponytail, and then, step by deliberate step, headed towards the door.

‘My teacher said I shouldn’t return to the forest these days… perhaps to the tavern in the neighboring village…’ Anto mused, glancing at his map.

The walk to the next village wasn’t particularly far from his current location.

He still had some savings, and with the sheep’s shedding season having just concluded, a trip to Lindes to find someone to take his flock could fetch him around 15 universal border gold coins.

Combined with his existing capital, this sum would be enough to cover a semester at the continent’s finest academy.

However, Eric had mentioned wanting to take him to Senjingyu, a premier magical academy nestled within the elven kingdom’s radiant jewel, Tylanmir.

Countless formidable figures had once studied there, among whom the most renowned was none other than…

‘I shouldn’t dwell on such thoughts,’ Anto swiftly admonished himself, pulling his mind back to the present.

“Take everything I can carry, sell the sheep in Lindes, and then wait at the tavern in Plangen Village until Eric arrives.

Yes, my objective is clear.” With these words, Anto began his preparations.

He retrieved his money pouch, gathered the few articles of clothing he possessed, and then organized his essential supplies.

Finally, his gaze fell upon a package lying to one side.

This was an item sent by an unknown sender, addressed not to Anto Colmensin, but to ‘Son of Livia’.

According to the postman, they were unaware of the sender’s identity, only that it was to be delivered to the church in Sinka.

Consequently, Anto always retrieved these packages when no one was around, yet he had never once opened them.

These items invariably arrived on specific days: his birthday and the anniversary of her passing.

The contents of the packages were rather ordinary: several old, worn holy scriptures.

During the Church’s zenith, these scriptures symbolized glory, and every family took pride in possessing one.

The finest editions, produced by the Bureau of Gospels, could even fetch ten Church gold coins.

Of course, as Eric often quipped, the only way these books could truly “guide” people was by being lit ablaze to illuminate the path forward in darkness.

‘…’ In the past, Anto likely would not have chosen to carry these cumbersome tomes.

After all, they were not only dilapidated but also extraordinarily heavy.

Furthermore, he wished for no one to discern his connection to the Church; perhaps burning them would have been the most expedient solution.

‘But that would be such a waste, wouldn’t it?

Regardless, these are still books—holy books, at that.

A few even contain methods for using various Holy Light (TL Note: A common term in fantasy literature for divine or sacred magic, often associated with healing and protection.) spells… The last time I inquired with the city priest, he mentioned some of these books are actually missing from current collections.

Perhaps I could sell them to him wholesale, or something similar?

Though he’s quite poor, offering him a discounted price would surely be acceptable.’ Anto mused, a smile gracing his lips.

Such an unpious thought surfaced in his mind, yet he felt no shame.

Years of study and life on the frontier had taught him that practical solutions were invariably the best.

Moreover, the very fact that someone as devoid of faith as himself could wield Holy Light clearly demonstrated that piety was not a prerequisite for its use.

Given this, he saw no further need to worship that supposedly lofty, unseen deity who purportedly listened to every prayer.

Pondering this, he opened this year’s package, only to find not a book, but a box.

Anto opened the box, revealing several…

“Oh? Jewelry?” Anto murmured, gazing at the meticulously crafted cross pendants, cross-shaped rings, and similar ornaments nestled within the box.

Beyond the silver pieces, there were also rings seemingly fashioned from gold and gemstones.

Judging by their intricate patterns and symbolic meanings, it was not difficult to deduce their origin.

What’s more, they pulsed with a vibrant, potent Holy Light.

“Holy Light artifacts of gold and silver,” Anto stated, drawing a sharp breath.

“This one box alone could sustain a village’s development for several years.

What a truly ‘grand gift’ indeed.”

As he spoke, he noticed a letter tucked beneath the items in the box.

Upon opening it, he found a message penned in somewhat crude handwriting:

[To Ms. Livia:

Thank you for your support of Dragon Bank over the years.

As your executor, Dragon Bank has fulfilled its contractual duties diligently for a decade, meticulously safeguarding your deposited assets.

Today marks the thirteenth year of the contract, and in accordance with its terms, your agreement with our company is now complete.

The items previously held as collateral will be fully returned to your heir with this letter.

Thank you for your efforts.

Miss Saintess.]

“Saintess…” Anto murmured the word, a faint smile playing on his lips.

It seemed his mother’s identity was indeed far from simple.

In light of this, selling the books was probably out of the question, yet keeping them himself wasn’t ideal either.

Perhaps entrusting them to the priest for safekeeping would be a suitable solution.

“With that, almost everything I need to take is accounted for.”

Thus, Anto placed his money pouch into his bag before stepping out of the house.

He then arranged the books on a small wooden cart, the kind commonly used by villagers when traveling to the city for trade.

He could have borrowed a horse from the village, but considering the possibility that he might not return, he decided against it.

Instead, he pulled the cart with a rope and arranged with a passing farmer, who was also heading to the city to sell grain, to help transport it.

Turning back, he began to lead his flock of sheep.

“Let’s go.” Donning his cloak and grasping his shepherd’s crook, he opened the sheepfold, guiding the flock he had tended for three years out of their enclosure.

This would be his final journey as a shepherd, a thought that brought with it a pang of reluctance.

“This is our last time, remember,” Anto spoke earnestly to his flock.

“Don’t fall behind, don’t stray.

You are all well-cared-for lambs, and I will find you good homes in the city.”

“Of course, whether your new owner keeps some and sends others to the slaughterhouse is beyond my control.

I wish you all what fate has in store.

This grassland… perhaps it will be even more vibrant next year?”

The shepherd walked along the path, his flock naturally clustering around him.

The boy sang an ancient, traditional shepherd’s song, slowly advancing across the sun-drenched land.

Carriages constantly sped past on the road, heading towards Sinka, yet all of them ignored the young shepherd.

He and those travelers belonged to different worlds.

“They rush past because they only see their destination,” he mused, “while I depart at my leisure, for the scenery here is far more beautiful than any destination.”