Rise of the OtherGod Apostle: Not a Cult Leader, but a Serf?!

#038Reader Mode

#038

“Anyway, after you’re ordained, you’re officially appointed as a reader for your family. Although you’re no longer a noble in the strict sense, you can still live with your family, or even take up residence in the church…there’s also the option of being hired as a reader for a different family and living with them.”

I can wrap my head around the first two options… but why on earth would anyone hire a reader from another family?

Seems like once you cut ties with your noble family, you’re up for grabs in the job market.

“You mentioned that nobles don’t really need readers anymore, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Unless they’re a newly established noble family in some outskirt regions, everyone speaks the common language.”

“So, why would they hire an outside reader?”

“Hmm…”

Tertius thought for a bit before answering.

“Mostly, they want someone for secretarial work. They prefer someone ordained, so they bring them on as a sort of clerical staff.”

Aha. So after being struck off your family’s register, you’re kind of forever branded as the one who got crossed off, even if you just get a normal job.

But if that’s the norm, Nasir wouldn’t have been so disgusted about my desire to become a reader.

I decided to dig a little deeper.

“Any other, less common reasons?”

“Oh, definitely. There are quite a few.”

“Like what?”

“Recently there was a famous case about a deep family feud. A marriage between a couple was forbidden. However, despite the circumstances, the woman expressed her unwillingness to give up on the man and got ordained.”

“Wait, doesn’t ordination mean you can’t marry at all?”

“Yes, but it also means she can’t be forced to marry someone else. It was her declaration that it was either him or no one.”

It kind of sounded like an ending where the girl, unable to be with her guy, takes the nun’s route instead.

A less dramatic version of <Romeo and Juliet>.

Compared to lovers committing suicide in each other’s arms, it lacked an emotional punch.

Maybe these kinds of stories were the medieval equivalent of melodramas – juicy gossip for an era starved for entertainment.

Now that I think about it, it might be fun to take a modern comedy and rewrite it for this crowd.

The drama from today’s soap operas would totally blow the minds of medieval people.

But I’d need to keep my identity as the writer hidden, especially if other players start getting a sense of déjà vu.

“So, what happened next?”

“Well, the ordained woman told the man she didn’t care about marriage anymore; she just wanted to be with him. But he coldly said he only loved her for her status as a heiress and had no interest in her without it.”

Wow…the plot thickens into a classic melodrama with an a*shole for a male lead.

I could practically taste the added drama MSG.

“And then what? Did she just weep and walk away?” I asked Tertius.

Please let it not be another bitter ending.

I mean, it’s the middle ages, so my hopes aren’t high, but still…

“She lopped off his head with a single sword stroke, in a fit of rage.”

…Wait, what?

He’s dead, just like that?

“But since the crime was committed by an ordained priest, the church had to handle the murder trial.”

She didn’t just attack him…she decapitated him?

Is it really that easy to chop off someone’s head?

Surely not, right?

Welcome to the Dark Realm, I guess.

This isn’t just a pinch of MSG drama – it’s like gulping down something as potent as pufferfish toxin, totally numbing your senses.

“The woman showed no remorse for her actions, so her sentence was quite severe.”

“…What was her punishment for her crime?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“She was sentenced to fifteen years of labor reformation.”

That seems a bit intense, doesn’t it?

Well, I guess it depends on the kind of labor…

But for beheading a nobleman – only 15 years? Does that really make up for the sin she committed?

Weren’t medieval punishments supposed to be notoriously brutal?

Swipe a loaf of bread and say goodbye to your hand.

So, she beheads a noble – not just some random serf – and all she gets is 15 years of labor reformation?

“That’s kind of scary…”

“Don’t worry. You won’t run into her at the capital’s Cathedral.”

Is she really out there somewhere, working off her sentence?

Suddenly, she seemed less like a character and more like a real person.

“Didn’t the man’s family protest the punishment? Saying that it was too lenient or something?…”

“Protest?”

Tertius looked at me with a frown like I’d just said something absurd.

“Protest against the Order’s verdict? No matter how influential a family might be, everyone is merely mortal in the presence of the Lord.”

Oops. Almost blasphemed there.

I quickly raised my serf shield of ignorance.

“Ah, because of my ignorance, I ended up saying something really foolish. I really had no intention of doubting the Lord’s wisdom. It won’t happen again, I swear…!”

“Huh? No, I wasn’t scolding you! You don’t need to apologize so fearfully. Regardless of what happens, the Lord will never abandon you.”

Well, my experience when killing heretics in [Heretic Slayer] begs to differ.

“Having doubts is not a sin. It’s not your fault for being outside of the Order. The Lord wouldn’t fault you for something you didn’t know.”

So are you saying, inside the Order, people don’t have these kinds of doubts, huh?

Looks like pretending to be part of the Order is going to be trickier than I thought.

Until I get the hang of it, it’s better to play it safe and avoid asking questions or showing doubts for now.

“Anyway, about being a reader. With readers coming from diverse backgrounds and having their own stories, you being there won’t attract too much attention…” Tertius trailed off, then his eyes suddenly snapped shut.

Are the Apostles starting up a mental chat right now?

“…You’re from County of Riquelon, right?”

Right as Tertius asked, an unexpected pop-up flickered in my mind.

[The day Carla officially inherited the title of Countess of Riquelon, a grand festival was held in the village. My father lost at gambling again, but he came home drunk and happy. He even let me have a glass of apple cider, but it was too sour for my taste.]

Feels like some kind of side quest.

It’s like one of those extra story bits game designers toss in to beef up the gameplay content.

If this were still just a game, I’d probably be looking at a quest titled [Unlock Fabio’s Memories through keywords!] with a little tracker ticking off the memories left to uncover.

Any way to just skip this quest?…

I don’t really want to know too much about Fabio.

It’s not like I need to anymore.

I dismissed the window with a thought and nodded.

“Yes, I was born and raised in Riquelon County. Even after moving to a small frontier village, I was still under its jurisdiction. This is my first time venturing outside the county.”

“Is that so? Carla, the Countess of Riquelon… she only has two sons, right?” Tertius mused, eyes still sealed shut. “That might complicate things.”

Complicate things? How so?

“No, never mind. It might be better to keep where you’re from a secret.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry. Let me finish discussing this with the Saint first. It’ll be just a moment.”

And just like that, Tertius zoned out again.

There I was, left hanging while Tertius and the Saint had their mental conference, pondering over what all this could mean.

What’s the big deal if the Countess only has two sons?

Could they be cooking up a backstory where I’m some long-lost relative, or maybe the Countess’s hidden illegitimate love child?

If all other readers come from noble backgrounds, a former serf like me would definitely stand out…

But let’s be real, there’s no way I can pass off as a noble, especially not as ‘Fabio’.

Not only does Fabio not look like a noble, but my biggest problem is that I don’t know anything about Dark Realm nobility customs.

I mean, I’ve logged over a thousand hours in the game, but my knowledge on this is practically non-existent.

That’s because the game never really delved into that stuff…

In [Heretic Slayer], the world’s pretty much in chaos, so there’s no time for noble lifestyle tutorials. And in [Conclude], they don’t bother with such finer details.

It’s like knowing the cost and benefits of building a city hall in a city management game but having no idea about the number of bathrooms inside.

Even in [Conclude], you’d get event notifications like [Noble X graced the Emperor’s New Year party…], but nothing on the actual party happenings – no word on the menu, the dance steps, or what speeches were made.

And most importantly, I’d be doomed without my trusty serf shield of ignorance.

Just like earlier, when I made a near-blasphemous slip-up, I could just shrug it off as ‘Classic Fabio said something foolish!’ and it all got smoothed over.

A dim-witted, uneducated serf suddenly becoming a reader huh?…

Maybe a background setting where I’m a servant who got lucky and received the Countess’s grace?

Imagine: The servant Fabio heroically saves the young master from a nasty fall off a horse or something… the grateful Countess, in her magnanimity, offers to grant Fabio a wish… and Fabio, the humble country boy he is, just wants a glimpse of the grand capital city… or something like that.

But that doesn’t clear up why they’re hung up on the Countess having only two sons.

I turned it over in my mind but drew a blank.

I wasn’t even sure if the problem was the number of sons or the absence of a daughter.

“…Uh, Fabio.”

Tertius finally opened his eyes, wrapping up his mind-to-mind meeting.

“The Saint agreed that it would be okay for you to live out your life as a reader.”

“Really?”

Yay! Dodged a boring chapel life.

“Your backstory will be… that you were a serf who caught the Countess’s attention during one of her land tours and was taken to the capital’s Cathedral.”

Ah, the classic rags-to-slightly-better-rags tale.

Curious, I asked Tertius.

“How exactly did I catch her eye?”

“…What?”

“No, I mean… when I explain it to others, shouldn’t there be some sort of reason?”

Maybe I was using a special kind of plow in the village, and when asked who invented it, turns out it was me or something along those lines.

There’s gotta be some kind of standout trait or genius moment as a hook, right? Like, why would a Countess pick one random serf to send to the Cathedral?

“Hmm… good at speaking, maybe? You do that well. Would that be enough?”

“Really?”

“I think everyone will understand if you say that.”

Understand what, exactly?

They probably just don’t want to bother thinking about it.

‘Good at speaking’ isn’t something you can put on a resume, not even under the special skills section.

Good at speaking? What does that even mean?

“Just don’t answer, even if anyone asks. Don’t say where in the Countess’s domain you’re from and don’t mention her name either.”

I can easily see how this astoundingly wise advice will lead to me being labeled as the extremely suspicious guy in town.

A serf with mysterious origins among readers from noble families? Nope, won’t raise any eyebrows at all.

Might as well hang a sign around my neck that says [Watched One here! (Currently Under Church Protection, Please Don’t Probe)].

“Just say it’s a secret, and they’ll stop prying.”

Do you really think such a half-hearted response is okay?

Would he be this laid-back about this if it was about Adna?

Common sense says when a shady character pops up, people are bound to dig deeper, right?

“…Well, are there other serfs who’ve become readers?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just curious if any other people from a serf background became readers like me.”

“As far as I know, you’re the first.” Tertius said, giving me a thoughtful look. “…Are you nervous about meeting the nobles?”

No, it’s your carefree strategy that’s got me worried.

I’m about to stick out like a sore thumb as the only serf in a sea of blue bloods.

“Don’t worry. In the eyes of the church, everyone is equal. If any noble appears to have forgotten this doctrine, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

“Call on you, Mr. Ter?”

“Yeah, call on me even for small trivial things. Don’t feel burdened.”

“…But you’re an Apostle, right? Wouldn’t calling on you draw even more attention?”

“I’ll just pretend to be a trainee paladin, so it’ll be fine.”

Is he planning on hiding that signature Apostle white hair under a helmet or something?

“Besides, if I do need to call out to you, Mr. Ter… I’m supposed to use your new baptismal name received when you became an Apostle, right?”

“Ah.”

That’s when it dawned on Tertius about the setting they had for me, [Fabio cannot call on the name of an Apostle], and his face went rigid.

“I just made another mistake…”

“No, it’s okay! I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

I guess I shouldn’t expect much from this bastard.

He’s probably too preoccupied with thoughts of Adna to spare any brain cells for anything else.

He’s not exactly the type to think things through before blurting them out.

“Then… I’ll come by to check on you regularly, even if you don’t call for me, alright?”

“Pardon?”

What’s he talking about now? Seriously?

T/N: I couldn’t help but chuckle while translating this entire scene. They’ve been holding hands throughout this entire conversation because Tertius still won’t let him go haha.