Diary

Nora opened the door, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and hung the shovel behind it.

There wasn't much of a layout to speak of. The room held only a table, a wooden chest, and a roll of bedding in the corner.

Nora dragged the chest over to the table. At night, she spread her bedding on top and slept there. For now, it served as her bench.

She braced a hand against the chest and sat down, then kicked off her bearskin boots. She had brought them from the Northern Territory, but they were stiflingly hot on this island.

She had been here for so long already without even realizing it. She missed the churches and snowstorms of the Northern Territory.

Nora's gaze dimmed. She took a notebook from beneath the table.

It was her diary. Every cleric of the Silent Temple kept one. The White Calamity was so terrible in the Northern Territory that when rescuers arrived, they often found nothing but corpses frozen in the ice inside the churches. All they could do was read the diaries left behind to learn what had happened.

That was why many people resisted keeping diaries. They felt as if they were writing their own wills.

But Nora had never thought that way. She believed keeping a diary was a romantic thing to do.

Writing your whole life into a book meant that opening it felt like having a conversation with yourself. She liked that feeling, as if it blurred the boundary between life and death.

She loved it.

She took a quill from a small box, uncorked the ink bottle, and dipped the quill. Carefully brushing her long white hair away from the page, Nora began to write.

[Seventh day of the Flowering Moon, sunny.]

[Today is worth remembering. I've been on Castel Island for nearly two months, and the Church's mission has finally made a little progress.]

[Turns out persevering was the right choice.]

[Lord Theus hasn't replied to me at all this month, and he hasn't brought up the promise he made before. I thought this mission had already failed.]

[But this morning, he contacted me through the Empress's channels. I was confused at first... Then I realized he might be trying to contact me through official channels.]

[That's a good thing. The promise he made before has probably been forgotten, but at least this shows a measure of recognition—a recognition of my strength.]

[He must have run into trouble.]

[Sure enough, after a round of insincere pleasantries, he asked me to treat his "foreign friend."]

[He even made me a new promise.]

[Even though I know it's a lie, his words—"This is your home, too"—still made my heart tremble.]

[How long has it been since the White Crow's faithful had a home?]

[To the brother or sister who takes over from me: you should understand how that feels.]

[Like a campfire in a blizzard, like a ray of sunlight just before the polar night ends.]

[In that moment, a fiery warmth surged through my chest. I would do anything for even this small glimmer of hope.]

[Even work with a cult leader like Theus.]

Nora frowned as she wrote this, then stopped and glanced at the sky outside. She carefully set her pen aside, hopped down from the chest, and turned to open it.

Bracing the chest lid with one hand, she lifted out a suit of armor bound together with straps.

She undid the straps and sighed softly, laying the pieces out on the floor one by one so she could put them on later.

It was difficult to put on full plate armor without help, but she was alone here.

Once everything was laid out, Nora hesitated. She glanced at her diary with a trace of reluctance, then sat back down at the table and continued writing.

[From the moment he mentioned the foreigner in the sea, I knew he'd been corrupted. As the lord here, he must have let the cult infiltrate the island.]

[Ever since that day, Pollution has spread across the entire sea. There are no foreigners in the sea anymore, only monsters.]

[But strangely enough, I couldn't find any Pollution on him. Not a trace.]

[He must have been afraid to go to one of the Candlelight Society's nuns, so he came to ask me for help. He's probably planning to kill me after I finish the treatment.]

[He contacted me through official channels on purpose, too. I imagine he means to pin the trouble on me later.]

[Too bad he doesn't understand Burier. He has no idea how much power holy death can bring.]

Nora squeezed the pen between her fingers and gave a soft snort.

[I'll treat him, and I'll help him keep it a secret. I'll also make him keep his promise.]

[The Holy Hall has nowhere left to go. We must hold on to every scrap of hope, and find a new home for our faithful—even if it means working with the servants of an evil god.]

[Though the lord has been corrupted by an evil god, Castel isn't beyond saving. As long as we can establish a Church here and build a Holy Hall, it can still become a home for the White Crow's faithful.]

[Home... We've paid so much for that word. The White Calamity destroyed everything. How many of our people fell into ruin?]

[At least there's still hope here.]

[Our predecessors carved a path through with their own flesh and blood. Now it's my turn.]

[I've already dug my own grave. To the one who succeeds me: please remember to bury me.]

[May the blizzards pass. May the flowers bloom.]

Nora snapped the diary shut.

She carefully wiped it with the edge of her clothes, then picked it up and examined it from every angle.

Good. Clean and tidy. It was her book.

The one who took over from her would read this diary and remember her. It would be as if she were still there with them.

Nora thought this, her hand trembling slightly without her realizing it.

She placed a bouquet she had prepared earlier on top of the diary.

They were flowers she had brought from the Northern Territory, nameless wildflowers she'd picked by the roadside. She had cared for them meticulously, but now there was no need.

She had already written a sealed letter. It would be sent soon, and the Holy Hall would send someone to take her place.

Now, she needed to fulfill her duty.

Nora pulled the padded lining from the chest and put it on, followed by the chain mail, then the plates of armor.

It was strange. Once she put on her armor, all her weakness, hesitation, and sentimentality seemed to leave her.

Now she was a warrior. She would die charging into battle.

It felt wonderful.

The corners of Nora's mouth lifted slightly before she quickly pressed her lips together.

She took the Tower Shield in her left hand and a Flail in her right.

The clerics of the Silent Temple weren't good at preaching, but when they smashed a spiked hammer into their enemy's skull, surely the enemy understood something.

Nora had even had the words of the Holy Scripture engraved on the flail's head for that very reason.

After putting on her armor, Nora turned around, closed the chest, and tidied the table.

She hesitated, then wrote a note, folded it, and tucked it beneath the diary.

Once she had finished everything, Nora grabbed a cloak to cover her armor, opened the door, and walked out without looking back.