Chapter 213

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 213
Chapter Title: Ascension
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“What?”

To a bewildered Ariadne, Sancha replied with a bitter smile.

“A tale is spreading that the girls saved the land abandoned by the king. I've heard at least four or five songs about it.”

Ariadne’s expression turned complicated. Who could be behind these songs? If a faction was spreading them, it could become a problem.

But on second thought, the problem would be the same even if they had appeared and spread organically.

Discontent with the king was rampant. She was becoming an icon of that discontent and would soon be thrust to the forefront of politics.

Sancha added nonchalantly.

“Last time, when they were calling you a saint, didn't you say it was a good thing you weren't the Holy Mother? This time, you're not the Holy Mother, but you have become a mother.”

Ariadne blinked, staring at Sancha.

“‘Mother of the Poor,’ they say. My goodness, what a curse to place on an unmarried maiden!”

Ariadne groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. Sancha continued to grumble.

“There are also things like ‘Goddess of War’ and ‘Angel of the Plague.’ I don’t get the last one. Is she an angel for helping people avoid the plague, or for spreading it to the enemy? Wait a moment.”

Sancha stopped mid-sentence and called out to Ariadne.

“My lady, what happened to your hand?”

Sancha’s attention was on Ariadne’s right hand.

Ariadne's right hand was horribly crushed, as if smashed by something heavy like a paperweight or a hammer.

“Ah… this. I just hurt it a little.”

She hid her right hand behind her back, but Sancha wouldn’t let her off so easily.

“How could you have possibly injured your hand, my lady!”

Sancha hastily grabbed Ariadne’s right hand, examining it from all angles before trying to dart off to find the medicine box.

Ariadne cautiously asked Sancha.

“...You only see that it’s injured, right?”

“Is there something else wrong with it besides being injured?”

Sancha’s eyes widened as she meticulously re-examined Ariadne’s hand.

If it wasn’t just an injury… a disease? Was she saying she had caught the plague?

But Ariadne’s right hand, aside from the crushed wound, showed no signs of blackened nails, nor were they thickening or swelling.

There was only an external wound with peeled skin and flowing blood.

“If you can’t see it, then it’s fine.”

Ariadne had been asking if she could see the halo of light shining from her hand, but if Sancha couldn’t see it, that was enough.

If the halo on her right hand was invisible… then the one on her left hand should be as well.

But Ariadne soon realized that was merely wishful thinking.

“My lady… what’s wrong with your left hand?”

“You can… see this?”

“Your left ring finger… it’s bright red…”

With Greta’s death, a single red dot had appeared on the tip of Ariadne’s left ring finger.

And as the plague spread through the Gallican army, the red dot on Ariadne’s hand began to spread down her finger.

It seemed to be one dot for every innocent life.

In three days, the red dots had completely covered the top phalanx of her left ring finger—the very part Cesare had cut off in her past life—and had begun to spread to the next.

“A doctor… should I call a doctor?”

To Sancha’s trembling question, an equally flustered Ariadne was at a loss for words.

I thought the proof of my sins would be invisible to others.

* * *

“Hic, Grandma.”

A young boy, who had been scrying into a basin of water, glanced around nervously and called to his grandmother.

“Um… I think I gave a bad reading. What should I do?”

The boy thought of the young woman he had met in the Campo de Spezia not long ago.

She was the first ‘One Brought to Judgment’ he had met since coming to the central continent. He had been so pleased and intrigued that he had read her fortune.

And there shouldn’t have been anything wrong with it.

She was clearly in a ‘period of ascension,’ and her fortune foretold a path to success in this life without needing to commit any sins.

But now, looking at her fate, karma was clinging to it relentlessly.

“What do you mean, what should you do! That person’s life is ruined because of you.”

The boy’s grandmother, who had answered nonchalantly, suddenly scowled as another thought struck her.

“What did you receive as payment?”

“Nothing…”

The old woman’s face turned as pale as her grandson’s.

“You imbecile!”

The old woman’s staff flew through the air with a whoosh. The boy yelped and leaped aside to dodge it.

“Ah, Grandma! Come on!”

“It was that time, wasn’t it? I thought to myself, this stupid boy is meddling in other people’s business, and you didn’t even take payment? Are you in your right mind!”

The Salman shamans always took payment when they read fortunes.

They believed that if a reading turned out wrong, they would accumulate karma for having sinned against the other person. By burning the payment as an offering to the gods, they would have received nothing, and thus, no karmic debt would accrue.

But in a case like this, where nothing was received from the start, there was no way to resolve the karma.

“No, I mean, it didn’t seem like it could be wrong at the time!”

“How is that possible!”

“She was definitely in her period of ascension. It was long before any turning point. I think ‘the Awakened Ones’ interfered.”

One Brought to Judgment always enjoys success until they reach a specific turning point, a moment where they are forced to make a single choice.

That choice is the very reason ‘the Awakened Ones’ grant them foresight, and they cannot be allowed to fail before they can make it.

*Thwack!*

“Ouch!”

This time, instead of the staff, his grandmother’s flick struck the boy’s forehead.

“You fool! That’s just how the ‘Golden Rule’ works!”

“But the books say…”

“Have I been doing this for a day or two? Do you think your grandma would tell you not to interfere for no reason?”

The old woman grumbled, drawing a picture in the dirt with the end of her staff.

“Why do you think they are ‘the Awakened Ones,’ plural, and not the ‘Awakened One’!”

“Well, I don’t know…”

The boy, having never considered the point, couldn’t answer.

“Obviously, because there are many of them!”

The old woman swung her staff through the air.

“If you and I can’t even agree when it’s just the two of us, do you think things will go as planned when there are twenty, thirty, or a hundred of them?”

“I guess not…”

“That’s why it’s completely meaningless to peek at their plans!”

Well, not completely meaningless, the grandmother muttered to herself.

“Thanks to you, this old woman has a new hassle to deal with.”

“But why…”

“Someone has to pay for your karmic debt!”

“I can pay for it…”

“Can you? A boy who can’t even read a fortune properly?”

Struck by a series of irrefutable points, the boy slumped his shoulders and crouched down.

“An opportunity will arise later to help that young lady. You will pay your debt in full then, and after that, you will have absolutely nothing more to do with her!”

“Yes, Grandma…”

The old woman clicked her tongue, then filled a brass basin with water to read the fortune herself.

She wanted to see the contours of the young lady’s life herself to judge when the debt could be repaid.

“Hah… well now.”

The boy, who was looking over his grandmother’s shoulder at the reading, muttered with a troubled expression.

“Uh… Grandma. With this much karma, isn’t she doomed?”

The more karma the ‘One Brought to Judgment’ accumulated, the more his own karma for the bad reading would grow in proportion.

“How can we even touch this?”

The boy looked up at his grandmother, his face crestfallen.

“No, no… there’s still a chance.”

“I don’t see a way out.”

“If, in this life… she can become one of ‘the Awakened,’ her future self won’t have to bear this karmic debt.”

It meant she had to become a ‘hero.’ The boy’s eyes widened as he admonished his grandmother.

“You said that was impossible. How many people have ever succeeded…”

“When did I say it was impossible! I said it was highly improbable!”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Zero and one are different!”

The old woman snapped at her grandson.

“And if there’s no other way, are you just going to gratefully accept the karmic debt that has fallen on you?”

“Well, no…”

“If you don’t want to start your next life in a pit of sulfur, you’d better do something right now! You lack initiative!”

The old woman swept the brass basin away.

“From now on, you will read this young lady’s fortune once a month. If anything shifts, you tell me immediately. We need to repay this debt as soon as the opportunity arises and be done with it.”

The old woman wanted a swift repayment of the debt.

It was better to pay it off early. If they waited until the latter part of the young lady’s tumultuous life, they would have to pay a price dozens of times greater than now.

Because, according to the glimpse she had stolen of the young lady’s fate, she was destined to play on a stage incomparably larger than her current one.

* * *

“Your Highness. The knights of Citroën wish to see you.”

Inside the tent, Alfonso, who was sitting at his desk, put down his quill.

He had become deeply tanned by the sun. His neatly trimmed hair had grown out, now long and shaggy enough to cover the nape of his neck.

His shoulders were broader and harder, his jaw more defined, erasing much of his boyish impression.

“What for?”

“It seems they are requesting to be placed under your command.”

Sir Elko, who was serving as his secretary, reported the situation outside.

“As you know, Your Highness, Count Citroën was killed in action last week…”

“A regrettable event.”

“It seems his knights have been left without a lord to serve.”

The Third Crusade had a commander-in-chief for strategic purposes, but it was not a perfectly unified army.

This was an unavoidable consequence of its forces being drawn from all over the central continent.

The initial war funds were covered by the personal wealth of the Grand Duke of Oldenburg and a donation from King Philippe IV of Gallico, but any profits thereafter were distributed strictly according to merit.

And the small company of knights led by Prince Alfonso of Etruscan had achieved dazzling feats.

After their first victory, where they had been assigned the menial task of guarding the rear and won a 10-to-1 battle that seemed utterly hopeless, capturing a high-value hostage, Prince Alfonso and his knights re-equipped themselves, acquired horses, and excelled as a small reconnaissance unit, a detached force that raided enemy camps.

Recently, they had captured the son of Al-Namir, said to be the greatest warrior of the Moorish Empire, during a large-scale battle.

Since the Crusade itself had lost that battle, Prince Alfonso’s achievement was the only victory for the entire Crusader army.

“What are your orders?”

Sir Elko asked.

“If you judge that it would be too much to accept them, Your Highness, I can turn them away at the entrance without you having to refuse them personally.”

The knights of Citroën were not the only ones seeking to join Alfonso.

A soldier needed a lord to receive a share of the spoils and supplies. If distribution was based strictly on merit, it was most advantageous to find a lord whose achievements were great and whose retinue was small.

When it came to achieving outstanding results with a small number of men, Prince Alfonso was unrivaled in the entire crusade.

“What is our financial situation?”

“We have about forty ducats in reserve, but that is by no means a large sum. However, the ransom negotiations for Al-Namir’s son are not yet complete…”

Maintaining knights was expensive. And there was still no word from their home country of Etruscan.

“Once the prisoner negotiations are settled, I expect we will receive about half of it.”

Alfonso nodded.

“Let’s accept them, for now.”

“Your Highness…”

Sir Elko looked displeased.

“If we must take on more men, wouldn't it be better to recruit better-trained, regular soldiers?”

The knights of Citroën were greenhorns who had left their homes filled with the romance of embarking on a ‘holy war.’

They would not be of much help in terms of actual combat strength. But Alfonso waved away Sir Elko’s objection.

“If I don’t take them, what options do they have?”

If they found a poor lord, they would be used as cannon fodder in a charge and then discarded.

If they couldn't find a lord at all, their supplies would be cut off. They would eventually desert and wander this distant foreign land, only to be left behind.

“Their situation reminds me of my own. I can't quite bring myself to send them away.”

“...No, Your Highness. It is only a slight delay from our homeland…”

Alfonso cut Sir Elko off.

“There’s no need for me to meet them. Prepare a tent for them and send them there. I will see them myself at training tomorrow morning.”

Sir Elko bowed his head and exited the tent.

Alfonso once again looked down at the letter he had covered when Sir Elko entered.

It was the letter he had been writing, in his usual terrible handwriting with blue ink.

「To my Ari, whom I miss unbearably.」