Sister Antolia’s Ascendant Renown

From that point onward, Anto’s days were predominantly dedicated to the study of sacred texts and various Holy Light spells. Yet, she never neglected her myriad duties as a nun. Perhaps due to her long-standing habit of caring for others, she found the tasks within the monastery remarkably unchallenging. Every undertaking seemed to come to her with effortless familiarity.

“Whether it’s sweeping, performing rituals, or even tending to wounds, Antolia is truly a master of all,” the Mother Superior, known for her strictness, had once declared. While most young women arriving at the monastery often struggled with its demanding duties and rigid precepts, Anto appeared to have been born for this very life. She seldom voiced a complaint, instead dedicating herself wholeheartedly to every task within her capabilities. Her most remarkable talent, however, lay in her prowess as an apothecary, tending to the sick and injured.

“Open wide,” the gentle girl, clad in her nun’s habit, coaxed, her expression laced with playful amusement as she faced a child stubbornly refusing to open their mouth. The accompanying adult, clearly growing exasperated, snapped,

“Stop bothering her! Open your mouth, you mischievous little imp!”

“It’s quite alright,” Anto replied calmly, “most children react similarly when faced with medicine.” The child gazed up at her, then hesitantly mumbled,

“Is… is the medicine bitter?”

“Indeed, most medicines are bitter,” Anto said, leaning down to the child’s level. “But once the bitterness passes, there will be a sweet treat waiting for you.”

With a flourish, as if by magic, a piece of candy materialized in her hand. The little boy’s eyes widened, sparkling with delight, and he promptly grabbed the water, swallowing the bitter pill without a moment’s hesitation.

“You see, it was quite simple,” Anto remarked, rising to her full height after successfully managing the child. Behind her, a cluster of nuns from the orphanage regarded her with profound admiration. In the past, administering medicine had often devolved into a cacophony of shrieks and wails from the children, reminiscent of the mournful cries echoing from a battlefield’s abyss.

“Miss Anto truly has a way with children,” one nun murmured in admiration, while another, standing nearby, interjected,

“Mind your words,” the second nun said, her tone a touch stern. “It would be more accurate to say that Sister Antolia excels at handling *everything*.”

Though she had been there for barely a month, Sister Antolia’s reputation had already begun to blossom throughout the city. Before long, whispers began to circulate, claiming that Draine’s relief station was home to a nun of breathtaking beauty and profound kindness. Over the past month, she had tirelessly performed countless acts of charity, tending to the city’s poorest residents, distributing warm soup to the homeless, and offering healing to every injured soul who sought her aid. Beyond her command of the Holy Light, her medical prowess was truly exceptional, leading many to marvel at her, as if an angel had descended from the heavens. In remarkably short order, the name of Sister Antolia had begun to spread far and wide.

****

“Well, it seems this phase of our plan has been quite successful,” Eric declared with a sigh of satisfaction. Inside the tavern, he and his companions observed Anto, then turned their gaze to a map of the city spread before them.

“Anto’s good deeds are all genuine, and our role is to strategically spread tales of her actions throughout the city. As the old adage goes, ‘three men make a tiger’ (TL Note: A Chinese idiom meaning that repeated false rumors can make people believe them as truth, or that collective effort can achieve the impossible). If someone hears a story only once, they might dismiss it, but after hearing it three times, they inevitably become a conduit for its further dissemination. Little Anto, what are your thoughts on this?”

While Anto diligently pursued her nun’s internship, the trio of Otherworld Travelers remained anything but idle. Though Eric was advanced in years, his mind teemed with an extraordinary number of cunning schemes. His first move was to hire a bard from the tavern’s lower levels, tasking him with singing tales of the border wars. He meticulously selected songs that lauded the church’s soldiers, who had fought fearlessly against the demonic legions, then had the bard introduce a new ballad he had crafted: a story recounting how “a beautiful shepherdess from the border, blessed by the Lord’s grace, repelled the demonic army with divine light.” Subsequently, he paid to disseminate this ballad among various street performers—beggars, ruffians, and laborers alike—who, within their respective street environments, absorbed these messages and, in turn, propagated them to an even wider audience.

Following this, individuals were hired to subtly weave discussions about the nun into their casual conversations. It was a simple, effective strategy: introduce a topic in the right setting, and people would naturally gravitate towards it, especially within the convivial atmosphere of a tavern. Next, simple rhymes were composed and taught to children, with candy serving as the primary reward. These catchy tunes quickly permeated the populace, and in what felt like no time at all—just a single month—Sister Antolia seemed poised to become a veritable celebrity.

“Essentially, this is the process,” Tikka explained. “This is precisely the ‘reputation’ within the city that you desired, isn’t it, Anto? This entire endeavor simply needs to be sustained. You continue to perform good deeds, we provide a modest amount of publicity, and eventually, we won’t even need to intervene. The city’s inhabitants will naturally propagate tales of your actions, and by maintaining this, your renown should accumulate quite rapidly.”

“Indeed,” Anto affirmed with a nod. Mula then inquired, “What is the underlying reason you require such renown, Little Anto? Shouldn’t this be a time for dedicated study? Haven’t you cautioned against revealing yourself too soon?”

“Ordinarily, that would be true, but circumstances are different now,” Anto replied, running a hand through her hair before gazing out the window. “There are pressing issues that demand our attention. As Rhys pointed out, the primary concern revolves around the church’s operations. In this day and age, we cannot realistically expect assistance from other dioceses or even Heaven’s Peak (TL Note: A likely reference to a holy or divine realm in the story’s cosmology). Given that self-sufficiency is presently unfeasible, it becomes absolutely imperative to secure support from a particular quarter.”

“Which quarter?”

“The kingdom, of course,” Anto clarified, turning to face them. “Bishop Rhys is still engaged in negotiations with the royal authorities, and I must join him. To do so effectively, I require a certain level of renown, which will grant us a slight advantage during those discussions.”

“Ah, I see,” Mula exclaimed, a look of sudden comprehension dawning on her face. “I was wondering why you were dedicating yourself so diligently to all this unpaid work. So, it’s all to accrue renown. I understand now.”

“You understand absolutely nothing,” Eric retorted, cutting her off. “Anto’s acts of kindness aren’t merely for show. She genuinely wishes to perform them; she has always been this way. You, Mula, are far too kind. Perhaps rein in that compassionate spirit for a moment. You remember the deadline, don’t you? Just refrain from using Holy Light Flame to save anyone.”

“I perform acts of kindness,” Anto stated calmly, “because these people genuinely require assistance. And yes, I do indeed need renown… While good deeds themselves are not undertaken with the expectation of reward, the reward itself doesn’t necessarily bear a direct correlation to the act of kindness, does it?”