Have You Ever Thought About Putting Your Name on It?

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

She was warm, friendly, kind, and sincere with Selûne's faithful. She answered their questions and helped them however she could, always the Radiance, the Flower of the Sunken Sea.

That was Eleanor the cleric.

Eleanor the adventurer was as she had been before: quiet, frosty, and disinclined to socialize. She simply got on with her own business.

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

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

She had hidden that face deep. It had taken Aaron's repeated provocations and carefully laid plans to draw out her true self.

Like... ahem, the business about walling him up inside a statue. Or inviting her to his home.

Those had all been moves Aaron had planned with care.

Her sparkling sapphire eyes were filled with his reflection. Looking into them, Aaron felt certain he would see this Miss Cleric often from now on.

Just as planned!

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

All those moves depended on one crucial condition:

He had met Selûne, the Lady of Silver, in person, and she had acknowledged him as a "Touched One."

Otherwise, he could have tried the same approach ten thousand times and still failed with Miss Cleric!

Because he would not have been "one of us"!

A lot of people did not 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 deity was the strongest, but they would certainly believe their deity was the greatest.

Second, I represent my god! By my lord's tenets, 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 come and devote themselves to my supreme lord.

As for meeting a deity in person and becoming one of Selûne's Touched Ones... well, Aaron had not heard of many men who had received that honor. The vast majority were women.

A good beginning was half the battle. Having said his piece, Aaron smiled at just the right moment and drew back to give Eleanor time to take it in. His gaze swept regretfully over her pale, delicate calves and slender feet once more, and he sighed.

Eleanor noticed his gaze, of course.

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

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

Miss Cleric blushed. As she stared at Aaron, several thoughts crossed her mind.

Perhaps this is for the best. We are both Touched Ones of the Lady of Silver, and we have 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 a long time. Getting along like this will be easier, and I'll be able to communicate with him better.

Wait. Where's my hammer?

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

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

Aaron blinked.

That's all right. If I do something wrong, go right ahead!

They looked at each other and smiled.

"Come on. I'll show you the rest of the place." Aaron gestured for her to follow.

"All right." With no outsiders around, Eleanor finally shed her heavy mask. Miss Cleric followed him with a spring in her step, and the viscount smelled as pleasant as ever.

This really is much easier.

They happily toured every part of the Sallyan Residence worth seeing, until Aaron's cousin Robert came upstairs to find him.

"Have a seat for a little while. Dinner's almost ready," Aaron told Eleanor. Then he stepped out with Robert. "What is it?"

"Cousin, I really can't take it anymore." Robert was exceptionally tall, a full 1.98 meters. Aaron's uncle stood 1.92 meters himself, so Robert's height was hardly surprising, but Aaron had never quite grown used to looking up at him.

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

"I don't want to be a scribe anymore!" Robert clutched his head 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 from the day he was born. His father was a Horse Master who had spent his life raising horses, and he did not want the same future for his son. Thinking there was no advancement in it, he had sent Robert to apprentice with a craftsman.

But Robert could not endure hardship. Proud of his connection to the Salian family, he had wondered why he should have to mix with the rough boys from the lower districts. He had gotten into plenty of fights, even smashing cider bottles over other apprentices' heads.

He had one thing wrong: he was not a member of the Salian family. He was family to Salian.

Why would master craftsmen show special consideration to a Horse Master's son?

Robert had tried learning several trades and mastered none of them. Aaron's aunt had even paid out a fair amount of compensation.

Eventually, his aunt and uncle had come to Aaron's father asking for a job for Robert—one that was "easy, paid more than fifteen Golden Lions a month, involved no heavy labor or long apprenticeship, required no patrols or dangerous duties, had no night shifts, and carried no risk."

Manuel had thought it over, then paid for Robert to take literacy and writing lessons at Selûne's Church. Afterward, he recommended him for the honorable position of scribe at the Adventurers' Guild.

The job met every one of Robert's requirements.

His aunt and uncle had been delighted.

But it was mind-numbingly dull. Scribes spent long hours at uncomfortable desks, enduring bitter cold in winter and sauna-like heat in summer, with poor light all year round. Sitting for so long while copying tedious texts—sometimes in languages they could not even understand—wore heavily on the mind.

Copying manuscripts in this world was nothing like typing on a keyboard in Aaron's previous life. Even the fastest, most practiced scribe would need twelve to fifteen months to copy a single book written in Dwarvish.

And then there were harder languages: Elvish, Orcish, Abyssal, Draconic, Primordial, and more.

It could drive a person mad!

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

"I could be your steward!" Robert said earnestly.

"I don't even have a fief. I can manage my household's finances myself, so I don't need a steward. Besides, stewards often have to inspect the lord's lands in his place." Aaron gave him a sidelong look. "If rioters refuse to pay taxes or monsters invade, you'd have to be ready for a rather spirited encounter."

Robert backed down at once. He muttered a little, then asked tentatively, "What about the Purple Dragons...?"

Aaron was speechless. The order? Its scribes might have it somewhat easier, but they were either knight apprentices doing the work alongside their training or relatives of fallen knights!

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

"You set the conditions for that scribe job, and you chose it yourself. It's too late to decide you don't want it now!" She rapped Robert on the head with the large wooden soup ladle in her hand. "Where else would you find a job that good?"

Aaron smiled wryly. His aunt was saying more than she seemed to.

"Dinner's ready, Aaron. Go and invite 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. They prayed together to Selûne, the Lady of Silver, then began dinner.

The meal included fine-ground brown bread with syrup filling imported from Amn, a whole roast chicken with herbs, a King's Forest reindeer steak for each person, cod pie made with fresh fish just caught in the Dragonmere, heron and fiddlehead soup, roast snipe and blackbird, and a great pot of rabbit stew with goat's-milk butter, cheese, and cream.

Dessert was honey-baked egg tarts. To drink, they had the renowned "Suzail" Purple Dragon ale, brewed in Aaron's own household from premium nuts.

The lavish spread left Eleanor astonished. Miss Cleric could not help giving Aaron, who sat beside her, a reproachful look.

This is far 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. Her family had taken every seat along one side and at the far end of the table, leaving only the head seat and the place beside it, reserved for the lady of the house.

Eleanor had little choice. She could hardly take the head seat, so she sat in the lady's place.

Dinner was indeed lavish, but the beautiful roast chicken on the table caught Aaron's attention.

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

In his previous life, industrial farming had sent meat prices plummeting. The famous white broiler chicken, in particular, hatched in twenty-one days and was ready for market forty-two days later. Its meat was tasty, it grew plump, and chicken was almost always the cheapest meat.

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

Eating a chicken meant eating part of one's property—and an important farm animal at that. Chickens laid eggs. A few laying hens could produce over a thousand eggs a year; eat the hens, and there would be no more eggs!

So it was easy to see why killing a chicken at a village gate might bring the whole village after you with blades.

Ordinary people generally ate old hens that had stopped laying. 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!

That's a bit of a display of wealth, 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 restrict how they lived. Under her influence, Eleanor was unlikely to interfere in anyone else's affairs.

A cleric of Ilmater, the god of suffering, would probably have been angry by now.

Eleanor ate with exquisite manners. Aaron could finish a reindeer steak in a few bites, but Miss Cleric took small, unhurried mouthfuls and looked elegant and graceful doing it. With his aunt's family present, she had put on her Selûne cleric's face again. Warm and friendly, she spoke a little about the Church.

Aaron gave his aunt a discreet look.

Mellie understood immediately. With an air of careless frankness, she asked, "Miss Eleanor, how was dinner? Was it to your liking?"

"I'm honored, Mrs. Mellie, Mr. Lothair, and Mr. Aaron. You've made me feel quite undeserving of such hospitality. You'll spoil my appetite for ordinary food." Miss Cleric gave a perfectly polite smile, showing all eight of her front teeth.

"I'm glad you like it. If you do, why not stay? Aaron has been on his own all this time..." The more Mellie looked at Eleanor, the more she liked her, and she spoke with remarkable directness. "Miss Eleanor, you're beautiful and kind, and you worship the Lady of Silver. We'd be very happy to have you..."

"I'm afraid not. I still have matters to attend to at the Church..." Miss Cleric's expression shifted slightly. She kept her professional smile, but her tone made her refusal clear.

"It's evening already. It's dark outside. What could there be left to do? Listen to me and stay tonight. You've had a tiring journey from Seabury. I'll have someone heat water for a bath. And thank you for protecting and looking after Aaron along the way." Mellie pressed on.

"Oh, there's no need to make such a fuss! Miss Eleanor, didn't Aaron show you the Salian tapestry?" Lothair, who had not managed to get a word in while his wife applied pressure bit by bit, was eager to make a contribution.

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

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

Thud!

The moment Lothair said it, a dull impact sounded beneath the carpeted table.

"Mm!" A high heel came down like a thunderbolt on Aaron's foot. The viscount let out a pained grunt and dropped his silver spoon onto the floor.

Pain shot through his foot. Worse, the heel ground left and right, pressing down even harder.

Aaron's face went white.

He turned to find Miss Cleric smiling at him with a puzzled expression, as though asking whether something was wrong.

Beneath the table, her foot kept pressing down.

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

Aaron hurriedly tried to protest with his eyes, his face twisted in pain.

Don't lie. Do you think I missed that look you exchanged with Mrs. Mellie?

There was murder in Eleanor's eyes.

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

Her son had buried his head in his meal and plainly 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 to catch on.

"N-nothing. My... my spoon fell. I'll... pick it up." With his face contorted, Aaron slowly bent down under the eyes of his aunt's entire family and reached beneath the table.

Three seconds later, Miss Cleric gave a soft "Ah!" She sat bolt upright, lowered her crimson face, and glared at Aaron, mortified and furious at what he had done.

Damn it. Lady of Silver above, coming to this man's house without my warhammer was a mistake!

So that's Miss Cleric's weak spot... Aaron sat upright again. Found it, haven't I?

Seeing the two young people glare at each other, Mellie hurried to change the subject. "Oh, right, Aaron. While you were out, Banneret Lucian came by. He asked me to tell you he wants to know whether you've made up your mind."

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

Lucian!

Aaron narrowed his eyes at the name.