Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume Short Story-1 - Chapter 4

Wilma — Servants of Sister Christine

A previously unpublished chapter that appeared in the web novel around the time of Part 2 Volume 1. It focuses on how Wilma spends her days in the orphanage after becoming an attendant and provides an insight into how she sees Myne and the orphans. Also included is her conversation with Rosina about the latter’s future in the temple.

Author’s Note: Rosina started out as a troublemaker in Myne’s eyes, but that was because their views of the world around them were so contradictory. I wanted to write a chapter exploring Rosina’s perspective in a little more detail and ended up choosing Wilma to be the narrator, as readers were more familiar with the character and seemed to understand her better.

Sister Myne, an apprentice blue shrine maiden, recently accepted me as an attendant. I expressed to her my desire to stay within the confines of the orphanage, and in response she granted me her approval—as well as the duties of taking care of the pre-baptism children and overseeing the orphanage.

“Have the divine gifts been served to everyone?” I asked. “Yes? Then let us offer our prayers and gratitude. O mighty King and Queen of the endless skies who doth grace us with thousands upon thousands of lives to consume, O mighty Eternal Five who rule the mortal realm, I offer thanks and prayers to thee, and do take part in the meal so graciously provided.”

The pre-baptism children echoed my prayer, then instantly began devouring their lunch. Food was brought to the orphanage only after the adult priests and shrine maidens and then the apprentices had enjoyed their shares, so the orphans were made to wait longer than anyone else. Their hunger was clear from the ravenous fury with which they ate.

I did feel sorry for the children that they had to wait so long before every meal, but at the same time, I was overjoyed that they were now always guaranteed something to eat. Before, they had been entirely reliant on scraps, sometimes receiving nothing at all.

“Today’s food is wonderful, isn’t it?” I asked. I ate my meals with the other adults, so my duty here was to teach the children how to eat properly and clean up after themselves. There were six of them in total, and looking after them all at once was no easy feat.

“The soup’s good.”

“Do you think Lizzie helped today? Look at how neatly cut all these vegetables are.”

Whether the quantity of divine gifts one day was large or small, there would always be soup on the table for the children to eat. The soup itself seemed to embody everything that Sister Myne had done for the orphanage, so I always thought about her whenever I saw it.

“Sister Myne is the very reason we have this soup to begin with,” I explained. “She taught us how to make it, she allows us to gather ingredients from the forest, and she pays us for the paper we make so that we can buy whatever we need.”

“You aaalways tell us that, Wilma,” one of the children said. “And now you’re gonna say, ‘Be grateful to Sister Myne.’”

The other children all nodded in agreement. They were teasing me, but I didn’t doubt that they really were appreciative of everything Sister Myne had done for them. She had cleansed them, given them food, and allowed them to experience the outside world.

It was the duty of gray priests and shrine maidens to clean the halls used by the blue priests—and, as the blue priests never visited the orphanage, our surroundings were left to grow dirtier by the day. This made it harder for us to keep ourselves clean, so we at least tried to maintain the places that were frequented most.

In short, the dining hall was never terribly unclean, nor were the rooms of the apprentices and the adults. The pre-baptism children weren’t quite as fortunate, however; they were customarily looked after by the gray shrine maidens who had given birth and would not leave the basement even for their meals, so most of us never saw or even really thought about them.

I couldn’t have been the only one who felt so shocked when Sister Myne’s attendant, Fran, revealed the awful state in which those children had been living. It had taken the intervention of someone outside the orphanage for us to realize that there were no longer any shrine maidens in the basement and that the poor souls still inside were receiving barely any food from the apprentices.

“Wilma, can we go to the workshop when we’re done?” one child asked.

“Only after you’ve put your dishes away and washed your hands and face,” I replied. “Gil will scold you if you dirty the paper.”

“Lutz is scarier than Gil...”

I had heard all the stories about Gil yelling at the orphans in the workshop and kicking them out when he had to, but I didn’t know much about this Lutz boy aside from the fact that he was an apprentice merchant whom Sister Myne trusted completely.

“He always shouts things like ‘Do you know how much time and effort went into making even this one sheet of paper?!’” said one of the children as they continued their gossiping.

“He got mad at me the other day before I even touched anything!” another child, Rico, added. He put his hands on his hips and said in an exaggerated voice: “Do you lot know how much this stuff sells for?! Don’t touch the dang product with your dirty hands!”

The other kids laughed. “You sound just like him!”

I was honestly quite surprised to hear the children speaking as they were. Such harsh tones and crass language were never used in the temple.

“If we mess up the paper then he won’t let us go to the forest.”

“He got violent a little while ago! I tried to warn him that violence isn’t good, but he just said to blame whoever forces him to use it.”

To me, the Myne Workshop was a completely different world within the temple, operated on a blend of rules that reflected Sister Myne’s understanding of merchant and temple customs. Of course, I was basing this assumption entirely on the stories I’d overheard—my fear of men kept me from ever going to the workshop myself.

Though I must acknowledge that the orphanage is moving down a similar path thanks to Sister Myne’s influence as the orphanage director.

Cleaning the orphanage as we did the temple, making our own food so that we had enough for everyone, earning our own money so that we could support ourselves instead of relying on divine gifts... Sister Myne was teaching us all sorts of things that I could only assume came naturally to commoners.

Despite everything she had done for us, Sister Myne was always so humble. “I merely taught you how to improve your lives,” she would say. “The progress you have made is the result of your own hard work.” Perhaps that was true, but the temple was otherwise made up of nobles and orphans, none of whom could have taught us what to do.

I was so, so grateful that the gods had sent us Sister Myne. She praised me as a saint due to how I looked after the children, but I thought she was much more deserving of the title.

Although, considering her young age, perhaps she is less a saint and more the divine child of the gods.

I giggled to myself, then recalled what Sister Myne had said this morning while visiting the orphanage. We had spoken about Rosina, whom Sister Myne had also recently taken as an attendant.

Sister Christine, Rosina’s and my former mistress, had returned to the Noble’s Quarter some time ago. Despite this fact, Rosina still clung to her memory and principles as if we were still in her service. It made her very ill-suited to become the attendant of a commoner, especially when Sister Christine’s and Sister Myne’s expectations were so drastically different.

I’d made a request of Sister Myne, which she had said she would consider... but I was certain that Rosina would soon be returned to the orphanage.

Rosina was a genuine beauty—she had mature facial features, flowing chestnut hair, and blue eyes that shone like jewels. As a lover of all things beautiful, Sister Christine had adored all these things about her, but the two had gotten along so well because of more than just that; they were almost the same age and were equally as interested and proficient in the arts. Thus, after being separated from her family and sent to the temple, Sister Christine had treated Rosina as a true friend.

It was clear to me that Rosina was expecting the same treatment from Sister Myne, but she was being far too optimistic.

“It shouldn’t be long now...”

Sister Myne had said that she was going to consult all her attendants and then discuss matters with Rosina after lunch. It was likely to be a painful experience for Rosina if she did not accept the reality that she was no longer serving Sister Christine.

I sent the children off to the workshop and then went to my room, whereupon I took out the boards I was using to help make karuta. The game was going to be Sister Myne’s gift to the children, so I needed to be extra careful. My art would teach them the visages of the gods, so there was a lot of pressure, but it was such a worthwhile endeavor.

Sister Myne’s karuta were wonderful indeed. They had originally been made for Gil to help him learn his letters, and he occasionally brought them to the dining hall for the other children to play with. Their effectiveness as a learning material was impossible to ignore; in what had felt like no time at all, the children had memorized the alphabet and the names of the gods.

Using the pen and ink that Sister Myne gave me, I carefully started drawing the gods and their divine instruments on the boards in front of me, which were smooth and polished to a sheen. I’d read the karuta so many times now that I could recite pretty much all of them by heart. The children knew them all too, so I could always ask for their help when necessary.

I enjoyed looking after the children, but the elation I felt while absorbed in my art was something truly special. It was like a reminder that I had been starved of my passion for much too long.

I was several illustrations into my work when there came a knock on my door. I called for my visitor to enter, and in came Rosina, entirely as I’d predicted. She closed the door behind herself... and then tears welled up in her blue eyes. This was my first time seeing her so emotional. Just how much had she been holding in?

“Wilma, Sister Myne is so cruel,” Rosina complained. “She told me to do the work of a gray priest!”

“I’m not sure I follow... Tell me precisely what happened.”

“Yes, of course. Please do listen. You are the only person who can understand me, Wilma. You also served Sister Christine, after all.”

I stopped drawing and turned my chair around, prompting Rosina to take a seat on my bed. She immediately began to explain the situation, tears streaming down her face.

“Delia is the cruelest of all.”

“I am not familiar with all of Sister Myne’s attendants. Can you tell me more about her?”

Ever since becoming Sister Myne’s attendant, I spent almost all of my time holed up in the orphanage, so my knowledge of the outside world was limited to what the children told me during meals. Fran and Gil assisted in cleaning the orphanage as Sister Myne’s attendants and had been quite famous in the temple even before then, but this was my first time hearing the name “Delia.”

Rosina nodded in response to my question and said, “She’s a red-haired girl with a remarkably spirited personality. She also used to serve the High Bishop as an apprentice shrine maiden.”

She was eight years old, I was told, which meant she had been in the basement when Rosina and I were returned to the orphanage. Someone with red hair surely would have stood out in my mind, and yet...

“I would expect to remember this eight-year-old apprentice,” I said, “but I have no recollection of ever seeing her.”

“The High Bishop took her in immediately after her baptism, so she went straight from the basement to the noble section of the temple, skipping the first floor of the orphanage entirely. She told me as much when I said that I did not recognize her, and she sounded very proud of herself the entire time. She announced that she would one day become the High Bishop’s concubine, and without a hint of shame! Oh, what would Sister Christine have said upon hearing such a thing?”

Sister Christine had loathed the gray shrine maidens who gave flowers, even going as far as to call them talentless women who offered nothing to the world but their bodies. As a result, Rosina and I had come to oppose the idea of one day being taken by blue priests ourselves.

The other gray shrine maidens of the orphanage did not share our revulsion to flower offerings, however. Life had gotten harder over the past few years—labor was more demanding and divine gifts in shorter supply—and many saw giving flowers as a small price to pay to ensure they didn’t go hungry.

“Is it really so strange that a child who spent so long in the basement without any gray priests to care for her wishes to leave the orphanage and live a stable life?” I asked. “Imagine if you had been locked down there.”

“Oh, do not say such things, Wilma. The thought alone makes me queasy.”

Rosina had been the first to run away when we were ordered to wash the children of the basement; she was undeniably taking after Sister Christine, who had always said that she wished to see nothing but beauty. I could not help but sigh when I thought about how different our previous mistress was from Sister Myne, who had sent Gil to save the children through any means necessary after coincidentally stumbling upon them.

“Delia has no sense of culture, does not understand art, and describes the sweet sounds of the harspiel as unpleasant to the ear!” Rosina continued. “She is unpleasant to the ear, always saying ‘geez’ this and ‘geez’ that! Oh, but Sister Myne did not scold her for her ignorance. Instead, she merely listened with a smile!”

In a sense, Rosina and Delia were quite similar: both had moved to the noble section of the temple without needing to endure any manual work. Such labor was a crucial part of serving as an apprentice attendant, however, which was presumably why Sister Myne had allowed Delia to continue uninterrupted.

“Furthermore, Delia spoke poorly of me to Sister Myne!” Rosina exclaimed. She went on to describe everything that Delia had said during their meeting and even stressed the things she had repeated, which made Delia’s irritation and anger all the more apparent.

“How did the others respond to this?” I asked. “Did anyone come to your aid, or did they all support Delia?”

“The latter. Gil even began to spout such nonsense, saying that ‘those who do not work shall not eat’ and that I should not be playing music at night...”

If she was playing the harspiel as late into the night as Sister Christine had used to, then I could see why everyone was so displeased. Delia and Gil were both apprentices and presumably went to bed as early as the children of the orphanage.

“I can understand why they might find your playing a bother,” I said. “If you played here in the orphanage while the children were trying to sleep, I would be very troubled.”

“Wilma?!”

“Sister Christine was always late to rise, but those in Sister Myne’s chambers are up as early as we are in the orphanage, are they not?”

Rosina looked slightly downcast; she had probably heard that same argument once already.

“That aside,” I continued, “I seem to recall that Gil was once considered an uncontrollable problem child. He certainly seems to have changed, does he not?”

The most I really remembered about Gil was how often the gray priest who oversaw cleaning in the temple had sent him to the repentance chamber. Everyone in the orphanage had doubted their ears when it was revealed that he was being made the attendant of a blue shrine maiden.

“Oh, Wilma. You wouldn’t have believed your eyes if you had been there to see him kneeling and receiving praise.”

I remembered thinking he was mesmerized by Sister Myne the last time I saw him. She had given him karuta, so they presumably got along very well indeed.

“Well, what did Fran say?” I asked. “He used to serve the High Priest, so he must have viewed things from a more professional standpoint than the young apprentices.”

It was common knowledge to those of us in the orphanage that Fran had previously served the High Priest and was now tasked with teaching and guiding Sister Myne, who had grown up a commoner. He was also the only adult gray priest among her attendants, and it was clear at a glance how much she trusted and relied on him.

“Fran is a gray priest, but he does not follow my instructions in the least,” Rosina replied. “He won’t do manual work either, and—can you believe it—he even gives me orders.”

“Is it not obvious that he would...?”

“Oh? And why is that?”

Rosina looked genuinely confused. If she truly was this blind to the reality of her situation, then it was little wonder that she had earned the ire of Sister Myne’s attendants. It was no wonder Sister Myne came to me for my opinion on her.

“Fran is Sister Myne’s head attendant, whereas you are a new apprentice.”

“But I play the harspiel, and—”

“Rosina, Sister Myne is not Sister Christine. You cannot expect your life to return to what it once was.”

“Sister Myne said the same thing...”

“What else did she say?”

“That I should stop playing music after seventh bell, so as not to bother the others. She also said that she would allow me to do paperwork instead of manual labor, as she understands that my hands are important for playing music.”

“Paperwork?” I repeated.

Rosina gave a big nod. “Sister Myne has too few attendants. Thus, she has entrusted Fran with her paperwork, Gil with overseeing the workshop and the boys’ building of the orphanage, and Delia with the upkeep of her chambers.”

“She certainly does sound short-staffed...”

Normally, an attendant’s only duty was to manage the lifestyle of the person they served—but Sister Myne was both the orphanage director and the forewoman of the Myne Workshop. Her obligations were too broad in scope for a mere three people to manage.

“Your duties are looking after the girls’ building and doing art, correct?” Rosina asked me. “Sister Myne said she cannot afford for me to do nothing but play music—that I must take on other jobs as well.”

Rosina was almost an adult; of course it would be problematic if she was incapable of doing the work expected of all good attendants.

“So, what kind of paperwork are you being asked to do?” I asked.

“She wishes for me to write letters on her behalf and oversee ledgers for her chambers and the workshop. In essence, I am to lessen Fran’s burden.”

“Well... Delia and Gil would struggle to do that kind of work, as they have just become attendants and still cannot read or write. Sister Myne must think you are a better candidate, considering that you are educated and almost of age.”

I sighed, feeling as if my own flaws were staring me in the face. Upon becoming an attendant, one started learning how to read, write, and do math. But while those of us who had served Sister Christine could argue over who had the most beautiful handwriting or could write the most touching poems, we had no experience doing formal paperwork. We were also lacking when it came to math, meaning we could provide very little assistance on that front. Truly, we were attendants who specialized only in the arts.

“If she wishes to ease Fran’s burden, then she could simply take on more attendants,” Rosina said. “Instead, she wants me to learn things I do not understand and am incapable of doing. In her own words, she does not need an attendant who will not work.”

“That does not surprise me. Sister Christine may have been a noble, but Sister Myne is a commoner; I cannot see her having enough money to hire more than ten attendants.”

She had deliberately taught the pre-baptism children to earn their food. Someone who held such a belief surely did not have the funds to hire as many attendants as she needed.

“Sister Myne is a blue shrine maiden, is she not? I find it hard to believe that—”

“Sister Christine was unique. The blue priests in the temple today have only five attendants at most.”

It was normal to hire three to five attendants, as well as chefs and servants. In contrast, Sister Christine’s retinue had included two servants from her home, six gray shrine maidens for enjoying the arts, four gray priests for manual labor and administrative work, several chefs and helpers, and various tutors. Using her as a baseline was just plain unrealistic.

“Rosina, could it be that you are just not suited to serving Sister Myne?” I asked. “Given all the areas in which you disagree, I imagine that neither party is going to be satisfied with this arrangement.”

“Would you tell me to return to the orphanage as well, Wilma?”

I felt a sudden pang in my chest. Sister Myne had suggested that Rosina leave her service... I’d expected something like that to happen.

“Your thoughts and deeds are so contradictory to Sister Myne’s,” I said. “She must believe that she has no other choice.”

“I can choose between returning to the orphanage or accepting a lifestyle that is nothing like the one we had with Sister Christine. Sister Myne told me to decide by tomorrow.”

“I see. Then the rest depends on you, Rosina.” If, as I suspected, Sister Myne had been so lenient as a result of my request, then there was nothing more I could say. It was up to Rosina to make her choice.

“Wilma... do you not think it a mistake to have a shrine maiden do the work of a gray priest?” Rosina asked as she saw me return to my drawing. I could tell she was troubled that I hadn’t sided with her, even considering our similar histories.

“I do not, no. Sister Christine was the only person who maintained that rule.”

“Then I must be the one who is mistaken...”

After leaving the orphanage, Rosina had only ever known life under Sister Christine. Even now, she longed to return to those halcyon days. It was understandably painful to be refused the things one cherished so dearly, but Sister Christine was never going to return to the temple, and the attitude she had promoted wasn’t applicable elsewhere.

“I wouldn’t say that, Rosina. My point is that Sister Christine’s rules apply only to those in her service. Now that you are working for Sister Myne, her rules apply instead.”

“So... my perspective... doesn’t apply...?”

“Consider your situation carefully. If you had been taken by a blue priest rather than by Sister Myne, then you might not even have been given an instrument. You might have been made to offer flowers. Would you have expressed your dissatisfaction then?”

In a situation like that, her fate would already be sealed. Nothing would come of an apprentice gray shrine maiden telling a blue priest that she did not want to go anywhere without an instrument or that she was too cultured to offer flowers.

“Sister Myne has not forbidden you from playing music at all, has she?” I continued. “She said only that she cannot afford for you to play music all day and that you need to do the same work the other attendants are doing. She even showed you some consideration by saying that you could focus on paperwork instead of doing manual labor. Above all else, did you not vow to serve Sister Myne from the bottom of your heart? Or were you merely paying lip service?”

It was easy to sever ties with an attendant who did not meet your expectations, but it seemed to me that Sister Myne was compromising as much as she possibly could.

“Sister Myne has already gone to great lengths to make you feel more comfortable,” I said. “If you are still not satisfied, then I expect you will only ever be happy with Sister Christine. It would be best for you to return to the orphanage before you trouble anyone further.”

Rosina stared at me in a daze, looking entirely defeated. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she gazed downward and mumbled, “I see now that, even after becoming the attendant of an apprentice shrine maiden, I cannot return to those days...”

“Indeed. Nobody else can become Sister Christine.”

She hung her head and started to weep quietly. It was best to leave her be, I thought, so I simply continued with my illustrations while she let out her pent-up emotions. Eventually, her tears would dry on their own.

After a while, Rosina finally looked up again. “Wilma...” she said, her eyes now brimming with resolve. “I would like to have as much music in my life as possible. That is why I shall return to Sister Myne and learn to do the tasks she gives me.”

Rosina had clung to the past for such a long time, but now here she was, facing the future at last. It was such an extraordinarily beautiful sight that I regretted not having the means to paint it.

“Sister Myne will appreciate your efforts to improve, just as she rewarded those who worked hard in the orphanage. There is not much more I can do for you than listen to your woes, but I wish you all the success in the world.”

Several days later, Sister Myne arrived at the orphanage wearing a radiant smile. She was an apprentice shrine maiden, but she could almost be mistaken for the pre-baptism children.

“You spoke to Rosina, didn’t you, Wilma?” she asked. “Though she does not seem particularly fond of the work, she is trying her best even at math. Thank you.”

There was so much joy in her golden eyes, and she looked so innocent and adorable that, were I not in her service, I might have embraced her as I did the children. She was a commoner, and that was precisely the reason she felt so much like the rest of us. It was not that she lacked elegance—far from it—but rather that she lacked the forcefulness and high-minded dignity of a purebred noble like Sister Christine.

“Sister Myne, it is my understanding that the High Priest assigned Rosina to you so that you might receive a cultural education,” I said. “There may not be any blue shrine maidens in the temple for you to learn from, but Rosina is the next best alternative; she was treated as Sister Christine’s friend and educated alongside her. And if she is working hard to overcome her dislikes, then perhaps you can do the same and accept your noble education.”

Sister Myne faltered, her eyes flitting about the room. As someone who stood above others, it was unacceptable for her to show weakness so openly.

“Sister Myne, when you and your attendants were all gathered for your discussion, did Rosina avert her gaze? Did she cast her eyes down and weep when nobody took her side?”

“No... She kept looking ahead and clearly stated her opinion,” Sister Myne replied, blinking at me in confusion. It was cute, but that didn’t make it okay.

“Indeed. She carried herself like a proper noble. Only when she came to me in private did she cry and allow her true emotions to show.”

“And... I must become like Rosina?” Sister Myne asked, looking up at me and pursing her lips. I noticed the same resolve in her eyes as I had seen in Rosina’s.

“If a gray shrine maiden raised in the temple can carry herself as nobles do, then so can you. Do your best to learn from Rosina’s behavior.”

“Right...”

I can only hope that Rosina and Sister Myne will be a good influence on one another.

That was my wish as I offered my prayers to the gods.