A Morning’s Interruption

“Mrs. Melissa, how is your son’s leg doing?”

“Thanks to you, he’s already up and walking. It hasn’t even been a week… Thank you so much, Miss Edith.”

“It was just a scrape, nothing special that I did.”

The shroud of night had not yet fully lifted. Only a slender thread of dawn drifted in from the distance, barely illuminating the sky.

Gwynevere accompanied Edith through the streets of Kohl Town. They had only just left the church when they encountered townspeople greeting Edith outside the courtyard.

Edith was adorned in a flowing, aquamarine dress, its cuffs, collar, and hem lavishly trimmed with ruffles and lace. At first glance, she appeared more like a noble daughter out for a country excursion than a church lector.

According to her, dressing attractively helped to break down the unfamiliarity and barriers between her and the townspeople.

Gwynevere found it difficult to comprehend, yet, in truth, Edith had undeniably succeeded.

It had only been a little over a week since they arrived in Kohl Town with Bertram, yet Edith already seemed to have endeared herself to the residents. Children from the town constantly pestered her, eager to play games or beg for sweets.

Every person they met along the way would enthusiastically approach and greet Edith, who appeared to be remarkably popular.

“Goodbye, Mr. Vincent, I hope you have a good catch today.” Edith had just seen off an elderly gentleman preparing to fish by the river. She adjusted her dress before returning to Gwynevere’s side.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Sister.” The young woman gently took Gwynevere’s cool hand once more, offering a soft smile.

“You seem more like a Saintess than I do,” Gwynevere remarked suddenly.

Edith’s expression froze for a moment, then she chuckled awkwardly. “What are you saying, Sister? A Saintess must be a divine chosen, acknowledged by Lady Vatitaya. Me? Without Father, I might have starved to death in some forgotten alleyway by now.”

“I merely feel that a Saintess should genuinely help others and be beloved by the people, shouldn’t they? This should have nothing to do with one’s origins,” Gwynevere questioned, her gaze fixed calmly upon Edith. “Is there something wrong with my understanding? If I’m mistaken, Edith, could you please point it out to me?”

Edith looked into Gwynevere’s clear, azure eyes, which reflected like a mirror, sensing no ulterior motives or hidden thoughts within them.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“You really shouldn’t say things like that out loud again, or people might misunderstand, especially with how close we are as sisters.” Edith playfully shook Gwynevere’s hand, as if pouting. “You’re not particularly concerned about being a Saintess, are you, Sister? Just do what you need to do. Everyone has their own duties; there’s no need for comparison.”

“Though I don’t quite understand, I will remember,” Gwynevere nodded.

A hint of helplessness gradually crept into Edith’s smile. “Honestly, what would you do, Sister, if Father and I weren’t around anymore?”

“Will you also suddenly disappear in the future? Just like Godfather?”

“It was just a hypothetical!” Edith stretched out a slender finger to press against Gwynevere’s upper lip. “Besides, Father is only temporarily gone. Didn’t he often leave without a word for long journeys in the past, only to return much later? This time must be the same.”

“I hope so,” Gwynevere murmured, her eyelids slightly lowered.

A look of concern flickered across Edith’s face for only a brief moment before she quickly resumed her gentle smile. “Come on, we need to change Mr. Wright’s dressing today. His arm was struck by a beastman’s arrow. Although it’s a minor injury, it could become infected and worsen if not properly cared for.”

Edith lifted the linen cloth covering the small basket she carried, revealing dark green ointment and rolls of gauze beneath.

“I thought they would come to the church to find you themselves. I didn’t expect you to proactively visit them,” Gwynevere said softly, casting a glance downwards.

“Everyone in town is quite busy! If they all lined up at the church entrance, the whole town would be in chaos,” Edith chuckled.

“Does your head still hurt?” Gwynevere suddenly recalled something.

“It seems the further I am from the church, the more the headache subsides,” Edith said, rubbing her temples.

“Is it related to sensing the Bloodkin?”

“I don’t think so,” Edith replied, shaking her head. “Father said my abilities aren’t mature yet. Last time, when a few Bloodkin were brought before me, I didn’t sense anything. I probably need more training and adaptation before I can be useful, right?”

“You should rest. You’re actually the busiest one,” Gwynevere said, gently patting Edith’s hand.

“Such care from my sister, it truly makes me happy,” Edith said playfully. “Even just for that one sentence, all this hard work is worth it.”

Suddenly, the urgent sound of footsteps echoed, as if someone was running.

In a frontier town at dawn, it was rare for anyone to be in such a hurry. Edith and Gwynevere simultaneously turned towards the source of the sound, only to see a breathless young man rushing directly towards them.

“Who are you?” Edith didn’t recognize him; he wasn’t from their town.

“I’ve come from Oliver Village with an urgent message for the church. Are you Her Highness the Saintess?” Though the young man’s breathing was uneven, his speech was clear enough, indicating he was a representative sent by the villagers.

“Oliver Village is…” Edith didn’t immediately react, as her sense of direction was always poor.

“It’s a village to the south, a subordinate settlement of Kohl Town.” Gwynevere interjected, stepping in front of Edith. “I am the Saintess. Mr. Arvis and His Holiness the Pope are currently absent, and the remaining Templar Knights stationed in town are under my command. Any urgent matters can be conveyed to me.”

“Ooh, Sister is so reliable,” Edith said, her eyes sparkling.

“It’s the… the Grand Lector of the Salentz Religious Territory, I think? Their party was attacked by beastmen on the way to Kohl Town.” The young man gasped out the news, which left both young women astonished.

“The Salentz Religious Territory? Father mentioned it. The Grand Lector there should be Miss Helena. She had intended to visit Kohl Town to investigate undead activity.” Edith recalled some things Bertram had told her. “How is she now? Is she alright?”

A Grand Lector is a clerical position within a religious territory, second only to the Archbishop. Each territory only has two Grand Lectors.

For instance, with the Pope currently leading a distant expedition, the Salentz Religious Territory is temporarily managed by its two Grand Lectors.

“Unfortunately, their entire party was annihilated. When our villagers discovered the bodies, there were no survivors at the scene.” The young man’s face was grim. “The elders in our town recognized their attire and banners, which is how we confirmed they were from the Salentz Religious Territory. Your Highness, do you think… those beastmen will directly attack our village?”

“Dead? All of them?” Edith’s small basket slipped from her grasp, crashing to the ground. Rolls of gauze tumbled far away.

Gwynevere remained as composed as ever. Turning to the trembling, paralyzed blonde girl, she said, “Edith, you should prioritize tending to the wounded. I’ll go assess the situation first; you can join me later.”

“Alright, alright.” Edith swallowed hard, steadying herself, then knelt to pick up the basket and gauze.

“Take me there, now.” The Saintess then spoke to the young man, her tone firm and unequivocal. “The Templar Knights will provide protection for your village. You will be safe.”