The Female Knight of Doom - TFKOD 01: Going To The Temple

Today was Alice’s turn to go to the temple.

The mistress exempted her from housework and even appointed a servant, Grizzie, early in the morning to help her dress.

The mistress insisted that this was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and a young lady like her, without parents, should have someone to assist her.

Otherwise, she would be miserable.

The servant, Grizzie, was awful. She constantly screamed at Alice for help during breaks and berated her for not doing her chores properly. Alice would rather do it herself.

Surprisingly, her attitude was better this time. She wasn’t as mean as usual. She arrived a little early to fix Alice’s hair and smooth the creases on the back of her dress.

“Everything will be alright,” Grizzie’s tone was uncharacteristically benign, a far cry from her usual behavior.

“A few more years of work here will make you a capable servant. At that point, the mistress will introduce you to a young and promising spouse. With your learning and training here, you’ll be a competent housewife in no time, just like Marlena and I were!”

Marlena was the mistress’ last servant. She was a lovely and radiant woman who was married to the clerk of the court. She, too, was from the Dark River Street, and she was lucky to have found such a marriage.

However, Grizzie’s husband was only a clerk in a clothing shop, so she still had to work as a servant to support her family after marriage. Her voice clearly conveyed her satisfaction with her achievements.

Considering her subpar character and appearance, it was nothing short of a miracle that she married a dressmaker.

Unaware of Alice’s thoughts, Grizzie straightened the bow at the back of her skirt and pushed her in front of the mirror.

She adjusted Alice’s hair, looked at her handiwork, and said with satisfaction, “You are quite a charming girl. With Goddess Fragna’s blessing, you will be fortunate.”

She probably meant her blessing sincerely, but Alice only felt absurd when she heard it.

If Goddess Fragna’s blessing had worked, she would not have been reduced to this.

Goddess Fragna is the Goddess of Procreation and Family.

Most women, including her mother, chose her as their patron saint. Her mother was a laundress who caught pneumonia and died six months ago.

Now twelve years old, Alice could not find a proper job and had to do odd jobs, including watching the children at her mistress’ residence, in exchange for daily food and lodging.

She often wondered if she and her mother would be in a different place if Goddess Fragna had taken care of her devout mother.

Today, she will depart for the temple to participate in the “Being Chosen by the Gods” ceremony, also known as the “Choosing a God” ceremony.

Everyone assumed she would choose Goddess Fragna, whether the mistress or Grizzie. No one questioned whether she had any other ideas, but that was typical.

Young ladies, especially poor girls like Alice, did not have much choice.

People believed that a young lady from a respectable household should choose Goddess Fragna and that only a young lady under her patronage would make an acceptable wife.

She had made up her mind—she would never choose Goddess Fragna as her patron saint.

But she didn’t say anything. Grizzie hated children who talked back. There was no point in arguing with her about it.

She simply nodded her head.

“It’s almost time.” Grizzie looked out the window at the sky, “I’ll walk you out.”

Children who had reached the age of twelve and were required to travel to the temple were expected to stand in a fixed position on a street corner at daybreak and wait to be received by a priest.

The arrival time was uncertain and could take a long time. Typically, parents waited on the corner with their children, sometimes accompanied by a large number of relatives.

However, Alice had no one, and there were no other children on the street going to the temple that day. It would be awful for her to stand there alone and wait.

But she decided it was best to wait alone instead of being accompanied by Grizzie.

She politely refused her generous offer and stood alone on the street corner.

In the town of Poztar, the October dawn was already beginning to feel chilly.

Alice exhaled white air from her mouth and stamped her feet to keep warm while surveying the scene blankly.

It was dim, and there wasn’t much to see. She observed a faint glow emanating from the back door of Master Brad’s Pastry Shop. It appeared the bakers were already at work.

A scent from the pastry shop wafted through the air, and she swallowed.

She had heard from Burke, who had attended the temple ceremony a few months ago, that at the Feast of the Gods, at the end of the ceremony, everyone could get a piece of cake from Master Brad’s Pastry Shop.

Living on Dark River Street, no one could afford the treats from that shop, therefore she was determined to take advantage of the rare opportunity to indulge in Brad’s pastries.

Just then, the sound of a ringing bell came from the distance.

She looked up and saw a large group of people approaching her.

The leader was a tall, slender figure wearing an ivory robe. His golden hair shimmered in the sunlight.

Clearly, no one would be out so early except the priest who had come to collect her.

Following the procedure Alice had learned from Grizzie, she hurried over and curtsied to the acolyte, gazing down at the corner of his robe.

“Name, age, and natal day.”

The priest did not look at her but focused intently on the notes in his hand as he gave a concise instruction. His voice sounded young, which surprised her twice because she had expected the priest to be older.

She glanced up and responded to the priest as briefly as possible.

“Alice, twelve, October seventeenth.”

“Last name?”

She knew this question was inevitable, yet she cringed as she spoke reluctantly.

“I have none.”

Everyone knew that only bastards didn’t have last names.

It was a symbol of shame.

Alice was young, but she understood that much. She told herself not to worry about what others thought, but that was often impossible.

The young priest stared at her calmly and indifferently.

He nodded in a businesslike manner and took notes.

She looked closely at his face in the faint morning light while he wrote with his head down.

He was undeniably young, with perfect skin, soft, moist, ruby lips, and a hint of gentleness in his eyes. The corners of his mouth didn’t smile, but they showed a steady demeanor that made him look saintly and sublime.

Alice had never seen someone like him up close before, and it left her dumbfounded.

The priest finished writing and gestured for her to stand at the end of the line.

She stood still, though.

He coughed softly, and she finally snapped out of it, dashing to the back with a flushed face.

The procession continued, passing every street corner in the neighborhood on its way to the temple.

The holiness of the atmosphere silenced everyone. Meanwhile, Alice stared at the acolyte’s hair.

She had never seen such light golden hair before. She was certain that only fairy tale princes had such hair color.

On the street where she lived, most people, including her own mother, had plain, ordinary brown hair.

Her striking vermilion hair stood out like a sore thumb on the entire street. It was obvious that she had inherited it from her father, who never came.

That was all she knew about her father.

Her mother never spoke about him while she was alive. She only mentioned her father’s patron saint, God Ludnir, once, when she was sick.

Whenever Alice tried to ask more questions, her mother immediately stopped talking and remained silent.

She had privately investigated people about God Ludnir, but the residents of Dark River Street only knew the names of the gods they believed in. They knew little about the other gods.

It was only after she covertly questioned various people that she finally learned the truth: God Ludnir was the God of Darkness and the patron saint of mages.

Was her father a mage?

In Alice’s view, mages wore magnificent silk robes, held their heads high, and appeared haughty.

In the apothecary shop, magical potions were more valuable than gold. Even if she was sold, she could never afford to buy them.

Growing up in poverty, she could hardly imagine that her biological father was one of them.

Ordinary people were more or less afraid of them, and when she learned this, she felt depressed, not elated.

Perhaps her mother was forced to give birth to her.

However, these were just her suppositions. There was no hard evidence.

While she was inquiring about God Ludnir, word got around that her father might be a mage. Since then, children in the neighborhood have occasionally taunted her, calling her “the red-haired witch.”

Those children were awful. If there really were a witch on the street, they wouldn’t dare call them that.

Alice knew the main reason she was bullied was because she didn’t have a father.

As she stroked her vermillion hair in the mirror, she thought, “It would be nice if my hair were normal brown or even black.”

Most mages had them.

Children on the street might have made fun of her vermillion hair, but they would never have dared to make fun of black hair.

She knew that if she had had them, she would have had the courage to go to a mage-run apothecary and ask for credit when her mother was sick. If she had, her mother would not have died.

The thought of such ideas was endless.

Alice forced herself to focus on the upcoming ceremony. She didn’t want to choose the Goddess Fragna as her patron saint, yet she wasn’t sure who else to choose.

She knew little about the gods, yet she was certain that her decision would determine the rest of her life.

She knew she couldn’t ask anyone else such a question because they would tell her to choose Goddess Fragna. Clearly, most children would pick the same patron saint as their parents because their opinions held no value.

Alice pondered this as she trotted along, feeling spirited.

They reached the side entrance of the temple where the priest who had brought them there told the children preparing for the ceremony to rest on the porch.

Then, he ordered the guards at the side entrance to keep an eye on the children.

Finally, he sauntered into the temple alone.