Have You Ever Thought About Putting Your Name on It?

As a cleric of a goddess and a preacher for the Lady of Silver, the beautiful Half-elf Eleanor Dinefur had always been the perfect cleric in public.

She was warm, friendly, kind, and sincere with the Lady of Silver's followers. She treated the faithful with wholehearted devotion, doing everything she could to answer their questions and help them. To the world, she was always Seabury's radiant flower.

That was Eleanor in cleric mode.

When she was adventuring, she was as she had been before: quiet, cold, and disinclined to socialize. She simply got on with her own work.

Those were Eleanor's two faces. Both were Eleanor, yet neither was entirely her.

The woman before Aaron now was the real Eleanor. She could get annoyed and angry, tease him, trade barbs and wits with him, and want to hit him.

She had hidden that face so deeply that Aaron had needed to push her again and again, laying one careful plan after another, before she finally showed her true self.

There was, for instance... ahem, the matter of sealing him inside a divine statue. And his invitation to visit his home.

Aaron had planned it all.

Seeing his reflection fill the rippling sapphire blue of the cleric's eyes, Aaron felt certain he would see this side of Eleanor often from now on.

The plan worked!

Yet although everything had gone as he had intended, Aaron felt no particular joy.

All those moves and schemes had depended on one crucial condition:

He had met Selûne, the Lady of Silver, in person and earned her recognition as a Touched One.

Without that, he could have tried the same tricks ten thousand times and still failed with Eleanor!

Because he would not have been one of her own!

Many people struggled to understand how clerics thought. Put simply, it went like this:

First, my god is the greatest of all gods. A cleric might not believe their god was the strongest, but they would certainly believe their god was the greatest.

Second, I represent my god. By my lord's principles, I punish, reward, fight, and adventure! All my glory belongs to my god! I do not fight alone! My lord is with me!

Third, everyone should convert to my supreme lord.

As for meeting a goddess in person and becoming one of Selûne's Touched Ones... well, Aaron had heard of very few men who had. The vast majority were women.

A good start was half the battle. Having said his piece, Aaron smiled and gave Eleanor a little space to take it in. He cast one last regretful glance at her smooth, pale calves and delicate feet, then sighed.

Eleanor noticed his gaze, of course.

This man seemed particularly fond of staring at her calves and feet.

Were they... were they that nice to look at?

The cleric blushed. As she watched Aaron, several thoughts flashed through her mind.

Perhaps this was fine. We're both Touched Ones of the Lady of Silver, and we've both met her in person. There's no need to be so distant. Lady Silverstar also said I might be responsible for watching him for quite some time. Getting along like this would be easier, and I could communicate with him better.

Hm? Where's my hammer?

Eleanor still could not find her warhammer. Instead, she waved a small fist at Aaron in warning.

Don't think this means I won't hit you!

Aaron blinked.

That's fine. If I'm in the wrong, hit me all you like!

They looked at each other and smiled.

"Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house." Aaron raised a hand to invite her along.

"All right." With no outsiders around, Eleanor finally took off her heavy mask. She followed Aaron with a spring in her step, and the viscount smelled as pleasant as ever.

This really is much easier.

The two of them happily toured every part of the Salian residence worth seeing, until Aaron's cousin Robert came upstairs to find him.

"Have a seat for a bit. Dinner will be ready soon," Aaron told Eleanor. Then he followed Robert out. "What is it?"

"Cousin, I really can't take it anymore." Robert was exceptionally tall, standing a full 1.98 meters. His father was 1.92 meters tall himself, so Robert's height was hardly surprising, but Aaron still was not used to looking up at him every time.

"Can't take what?" Aaron did not understand at first.

"I don't want to be a scribe anymore!" Robert clutched his head in misery and raked his fingers through his hair. "Please, cousin, find me another job!"

Aaron could not hold it in. He burst out laughing.

Robert had received plenty of attention since birth. His father had spent his life tending horses, and he did not want his son to do the same. Certain it was a dead-end job, he had sent Robert to apprentice with a craftsman instead.

But Robert could not stand hardship, and he was proud besides. He always thought he was a Salian, so why should he mix with the rough kids from the lower town? He had gotten into plenty of fights, once smashing a cider bottle over another apprentice's head.

He had misunderstood one thing: he was not a member of House Salian. He was related to one.

Why would veteran craftsmen make allowances for a horse keeper's son?

He had tried learning several trades and failed at every one. Aaron's aunt had even paid out quite a bit of compensation on his behalf.

Later, his aunt and uncle had come to Aaron's father asking him to find Robert a job that was "easy, paid more than fifteen gold lions a month, involved no heavy labor, required no long apprenticeship, meant no patrols or adventures, had no night shifts, and posed no danger."

Manuel had thought it over for a long time. In the end, he had paid for Robert to take the Selûnite church's literacy and writing classes, then recommended him for the honorable position of scribe at the Adventurers' Guild.

The job met every one of Robert's conditions perfectly.

His aunt and uncle had been delighted.

But it was an excruciatingly dull job. Scribes spent long hours at uncomfortable desks, enduring bitter cold in winter, sauna-like heat in summer, and poor lighting all year round. Sitting for so long while copying tedious texts, sometimes in languages they could not even understand, often wore them down mentally.

Copying a book in this world was nothing like tapping on a keyboard in Aaron's previous life. Take a book written in Dwarvish, for example: even the fastest, most experienced scribe would need twelve to fifteen months to copy it.

And that was before getting to harder languages like Elvish, Orcish, Abyssal, Draconic, Primordial, and all the rest.

It could drive a person mad!

"You chose this path yourself, cousin." Once Aaron had finished laughing, he spread his hands helplessly. "And if you quit being a scribe, what do you plan to do?"

"I could be your steward!" Robert said in all seriousness.

"I don't even have a fief. I can manage this household's finances myself, so I don't need a steward. Besides..." Aaron gave him a sidelong look. "A steward often has to inspect the lord's lands in his place. If you run into rioters refusing to pay taxes or monsters invading, you'd better be ready for a lively encounter."

Robert immediately backed down. After muttering to himself, he ventured, "Then what about the Purple Dragons..."

Aaron was speechless. The Purple Dragons? Their scribes might have it a little easier, but they were either knight-apprentices taking on extra duties or the families of fallen knights!

Before he could decide how to answer, Aunt Mellie's shrill voice approached. "Robert! Didn't I tell you not to bother him about this? Aaron isn't the commander of the knights!"

"You set the conditions for that scribe's job yourself. You chose it, and it's too late to change your mind now!" His aunt rapped Robert on the head with the large wooden soup ladle in her hand. "Where else would you find such a good job?"

Aaron gave a wry smile. His aunt was making a point for his benefit too.

"Dinner's ready, Aaron. Go ask Miss Eleanor to join us."

"All right."

About five minutes later, the family gathered around a long table lit by candles and coal lamps on the ground floor. Together, they prayed to Selûne, the Lady of Silver, before beginning dinner.

That night's meal included finely milled dark bread filled with syrup imported from Amn, a whole large chicken roasted with herbs, a Forest of Kings venison steak for each person, cod pie made with fresh fish just caught in the Dragonmere, heron-and-bracken soup, roasted buntings and blackbirds, and a great pot of rabbit stewed in goat's milk, butter, cheese, and cream.

Dessert was honey-baked egg tarts. To drink, they had the famous "Suzail" Purple Dragon ale, brewed from choice nuts right in Aaron's own home.

The lavish dinner left Eleanor speechless. She shot Aaron, who sat beside her, a reproachful look.

This is too extravagant!

It's all to welcome you! Aaron answered with a look that said, Just enjoy it.

Aunt Mellie knew what she was doing. She and her family had promptly occupied one side and the far end of the long table, leaving only the head seat and the lady's seat beside it.

Eleanor had no choice. She could hardly sit at the head of the table, so she took the lady's seat.

Dinner was indeed sumptuous, but the handsome, large roast chicken on the table caught Aaron's attention.

A big roast chicken was no cheap dish in this world.

In his previous life, industrial farming had driven meat prices down sharply. The white broiler chicken, in particular, hatched after twenty-one days and was ready for market forty-two days later. It was plump and tasty, which was why chicken was almost always among the cheapest meats.

Things were completely different here. Chicken was expensive, especially one this large.

Eating a chicken meant eating part of your own wealth and an important farm animal. Chickens laid eggs. A few laying hens could produce more than a thousand eggs a year, but once you ate the hens, that was the end of it!

So it should have been easy to understand why, if you killed a chicken at a village gate, the whole village would come after you with blades.

Ordinary people usually ate only old hens that could no longer lay eggs. Their meat was dry and tough, but they were cheap: just two copper coins apiece.

The bird on this table was no ordinary chicken. It was a large capon raised for a full 180 days!

They're showing off a little, Aaron thought. Fortunately, Selûne was a chaotic good goddess. As long as her followers did not cross a moral line and harm others, she did not dictate how they lived. Under her influence, Eleanor would not meddle in other people's affairs either.

A cleric of Ilmater might already have been angry.

Eleanor ate with great refinement. Aaron could finish a venison steak in a few bites, but she took small bites and chewed slowly, looking graceful and dignified. Around his aunt's family, she had put her Lady of Silver cleric's face back on. Warm and friendly, she spoke with them about the church.

Aaron discreetly caught his aunt's eye.

Mellie understood at once. Sounding casual and unconcerned, she said, "Miss Eleanor, how's dinner? Is it to your taste?"

"It's an honor, Ms. Mellie, Mr. Lothair, Mr. Aaron. I'm embarrassed by such generous hospitality. You'll spoil my appetite for ordinary food." The cleric gave a polite, picture-perfect smile that showed eight teeth.

"I'm glad you like it. Since you do, why not stay here? Aaron's always been on his own..." The more Mellie looked at Eleanor, the more pleased she was. She came straight to the point. "You're beautiful and kind, Miss Eleanor, and a follower of the Lady of Silver besides. We'd be delighted to have you..."

"No, thank you. There are still matters at the church I need to attend to later..." The cleric's expression changed slightly. She kept her practiced smile, but there was no mistaking the refusal in her voice.

"It's already evening, and it's dark outside. What could there still be to do? Listen to me and stay tonight. You've come all the way from Seabury; you must be tired. I'll have someone heat water for a bath. And thank you for protecting and looking after Aaron on the journey." Aunt Mellie pressed on.

"Oh, why make it so complicated? Miss Eleanor, Aaron showed you the Salian tapestry, didn't he?" Lothair, who had been unable to get a word in while his wife steadily applied pressure, seized his chance to speak.

"Yes, he did. The Salian family has a long history and steadfast faith. The Lady of Silver will guide you." Eleanor answered earnestly.

"Then have you ever thought about, well... adding your own name to it?"

Thump!

The instant Lothair said it, a muffled thud sounded beneath the carpeted table.

"Mm!" A high heel came down like a thunderbolt on Aaron's instep. The viscount groaned, lost his grip on his silver spoon, and dropped it on the floor.

Pain lanced through his foot, and the heel kept grinding back and forth, pressing harder.

Aaron's face went white.

He turned to find the cleric smiling at him, her expression quizzical, as if asking whether something was wrong.

Meanwhile, her foot kept up the pressure beneath the table.

It wasn't me! I swear it wasn't!

Wincing, Aaron hurried to plead his innocence with his eyes.

Don't lie. Did you think I didn't see you exchange looks with Ms. Mellie?

There was murder in Eleanor's eyes.

Seeing things go wrong, Aunt Mellie promptly reached over and pinched Uncle Lothair hard: Look what you've done!

Her son had buried his head in his food and clearly had no intention of helping his cousin, so Mellie gave Yuta a light pinch on the arm instead.

"Sister Eleanor, Cousin Aaron, what are you doing?" Yuta was quick on the uptake.

"N-nothing. My... my spoon fell. I'll... pick it up." Aaron's face twisted as he slowly bent down under the family's watchful eyes and reached beneath the table.

Three seconds later, the cleric gave a soft "Ah!" and sat bolt upright. Her face scarlet, she lowered her head and glared at Aaron, embarrassed and furious at what he had done.

Damn it. Lady of Silver above, coming to his house without my warhammer was a mistake!

So that's the cleric's weakness... Aaron sat upright again. Found it, didn't I?

Seeing the two young people glaring at each other, Aunt Mellie quickly changed the subject. "Oh, right, Aaron. Standard-bearer Lucian came by while you were out. He asked me to tell you he wants to know if you've made up your mind."

"He only has two knight-apprentices with him at the moment, so he has time. He's waiting for you."

Lucian!

Aaron narrowed his eyes at the name.