In Letania, July belongs to the Goddess of Harvest. The enthusiastic sun ripens the wheat and grapes even more. Farmer Sman posted a job advertisement in town; he needs more hands to harvest the wheat, rye, and various legumes on his farm during the harvest month. As the largest farmer in the small town, Mr. Sman has a good relationship with Mayor Mr. Thomas. Olovice has seen more than once Mr. Sman and the mayor chatting and laughing as they get off the unicorn carriage, then pray and donate some sulers.

“Olovice,” Mr. Thomas seemed in a good mood. He finally changed out of his three-piece suit, wearing a well-tailored long-sleeved shirt with a ruffled collar, and his cufflinks were carefully matched. The small mustache on his face twitched with his smile as he happily said, “My darling daughter is coming home this afternoon. Her school is on an agricultural break, and she’s bringing a friend to visit.”

“That’s really good news,” Olovice congratulated. “Your vineyard is a perfect place to escape the heat.”

“Yes, yes,” Mayor Thomas said, twirling his mustache with pride. “I also have a hunting ground, enough to let those noble young ladies pass their idle summer days.”

For Mr. Thomas, this was indeed a great joy. He generously donated a gold pound, while Mr. Sman, as usual, donated five sulers. He was a skinny middle-aged man, holding a gourd-shaped pipe in his hand, with a heavy ear of wheat in his coat pocket. “Olovice, I’ve been having trouble sleeping for the past half month. Even when I do fall asleep, it feels like there’s a big stone pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Is there an evil spirit haunting me?”

Olovice observed carefully and noticed that Mr. Sman had dark circles under his eyes, a sore at the corner of his mouth, and seemed a bit listless. However, Olovice didn’t sense any unclean aura around him. It was more likely that the harvest month had made Farmer Sman overly anxious and stressed, leading to insomnia and heat-related issues.

It seemed he had to play the role of a mystic again. Olovice smiled and reassured him, “Please don’t worry, Mr. Sman. I’ll come to your house this afternoon to check it out.”

“That’s good,” Mr. Sman felt relieved, and Olovice gave him some dried chrysanthemum tea.

“Olovice Steward,” it was finally her turn. Aunt Mary rushed over, anxiously saying, “My ewe is having trouble giving birth. What should I do?”

Olovice’s perfect smile almost faltered. “Where’s Doctor Codan?”

The small town had only one doctor who treated both people and animals. Generally, for headaches, injuries, or childbirth, people would go to Doctor Codan. Only when dealing with evil spirits, which couldn’t be solved physically, would they seek help from the church’s priests.

“Doctor Codan went to the neighboring town for a house call,” Aunt Mary was on the verge of tears. Olovice knew her; her husband was a worker in Montpelier and rarely came home. She had two children, and all the farm work and livelihood depended on her. The only valuable asset she probably had was the ewe having trouble giving birth.

“I’ll go take a look first, Aunt Mary. Don’t worry,” Olovice said, meeting Aunt Mary’s pleading and panicked gaze, steeling himself.

Holy water works on people, so it should work on animals too, right? Olovice wasn’t sure.

He set off with holy water and his usual leather gloves. When he arrived at Aunt Mary’s house, her eldest daughter and youngest son were trying hard to get the ewe into the pen.

Olovice noticed that the lamb’s hooves were already showing. The ewe was restlessly circling. Olovice put on his gloves and, with Aunt Mary, guided the ewe into the pen. On the haystack, the ewe lay bleating. Olovice knelt on one knee behind it, noticing the little hooves moving occasionally. If he didn’t act soon, the lamb might suffocate inside the ewe.

Olovice gently pressed down on the ewe’s neck to keep it from moving, avoiding its belly. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the lamb’s little hooves and slowly pulled them down. Whenever the ewe bleated loudly, he would change positions. Finally, he managed to deliver the lamb and then cleaned its mouth and nose.

The newborn lamb was soon licked by its mother.

Olovice thanked the heavens in his heart, sweating profusely.

“Bless the Holy Light, praise the Father,” Aunt Mary cried with joy. “Thank you, Olovice, you’ve been a great help.”

Olovice took off his gloves and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Aunt Mary, this time I was just lucky. If it happens again, you should see Doctor Codan. He’s experienced with animal births.”

As he left Aunt Mary’s house, Olovice thought about the process of delivering the lamb and rubbed his forehead.

In the books, he had read about the work of priests in the church, which seemed so grand—banishing demons, eliminating evil, teaching believers, even giving interviews and attending charity balls at the invitation of nobles.

How did it turn into playing a mystic, delivering lambs, and taking care of children for him?

Olovice stopped in his tracks.

On the street, children saw Steward Olovice and ran over joyfully, surrounding the young man and chattering greetings.

Olovice looked down at the four, five, or six little ones around him, responding to each and accurately calling out their names.

In Letania, when adults were busy with farm work, the older children would take care of the younger ones. Human toddlers seemed to walk like this, wobbling and babbling.

Olovice scooped up a little girl he had baptized, holding her in his arms to prevent her from being knocked over by the older kids.

The child he had baptized had grown so much.

Olovice ruffled the little one’s hair, earning giggles.

Near noon, after sending each of them home, Olovice returned to the church. Father Andre, upon learning that his student was going to Farmer Sman’s, said, “Mr. Sman can’t sleep every year during the July harvest season.”

“After all, the wheat harvest depends on the weather. Let’s hope his granary is full of wheat and soybeans before the rain comes,” Sister Hiran said.

“On the Stormy Sea, people on ships carry a weather glass bottle that can accurately predict the arrival of storms,” Mr. Briel shared his experiences on the Stormy Sea.

“That’s amazing,” Brother Martin exclaimed.

“Olovice, take a bottle of holy water. It might comfort Mr. Sman,” Father Andre suggested.

“Alright, teacher,” Olovice nodded. Fortunately, he hadn’t used the holy water he brought in the morning.

Later, Olovice went to Farmer Sman’s house on the outskirts. Upon arrival, he used the Holy Light to illuminate Mr. Sman’s bedroom, then sprinkled some holy water, and that was about it.

Before leaving, Mr. Sman gave him a bag of beans and offered to send Steward Olovice back to the church.

The next day.

The church quickly received a return gift from Mr. Sman. He sent a servant over, saying he had a good night’s sleep, no longer felt chest tightness, and his throat didn’t hurt anymore.

Olovice thought to himself, “The Light brand chrysanthemum tea is excellent for reducing heat.”

In the afternoon, Olovice went to the basement and found that some of the meat strips were almost dried. He packed a gift with these meat strips, intending to give it to the witch in the dense forest, Miss Grace.

Just half a month ago, he had promised his teacher to visit the reclusive witch. Now that the gift was ready, he could set off.

After informing his teacher, Olovice had another heavy package in his hands, filled with food and clothing prepared by his teacher for the witch.

Olovice set off with one large and one small package.

When he reached the dense forest, Olovice snapped his fingers.

The Holy Light appeared.

Like a small moon, it illuminated the path ahead for him.

The witch lived at Moon Lake, the place where his teacher was attacked last time. Olovice had a good memory and followed the route he had taken last time to Moon Lake.

The forest at night was even more tranquil. Olovice walked on a path that hadn’t fully formed yet, winding and twisting. The trees in the dense forest were lush and leafy in midsummer, blocking the moon above. Only a few moonbeams trickled through the canopy, and the sounds of insects and birds increased, perhaps disturbed by this uninvited guest.

Olovice remembered that the witch didn’t like him.

Deep in the forest, Olovice saw some herbs, which made him itch to pick some. He still needed herbs to process the salamander skin.

But Olovice restrained himself.

At Moon Lake, Olovice put down his packages.

The Holy Light was so conspicuous here.

Olovice saw the twilight fairies, who had been sleeping, fly out of the star grass, like little fireflies.

“Olovice, why are you here?” Springwater flew up to Olovice, asking curiously.

“Springwater, I want to see Miss Grace. Can you help me inform her?” Olovice said gently.

“I can, but you have to give me a strand of your hair. No, wait,” Springwater’s eyes twinkled, quickly changing her request. “Make it three strands. You don’t know how many annoying vines are in Grace’s place. I have to pass through those thorny vine walls, which will damage my wings. You have to compensate me.”

“No, Grace is entertaining guests. She said not to disturb her,” another twilight fairy flew over, saying.

“If Grace gets angry, she’ll make all the star grass close up and not let us sleep inside.”

Springwater remembered this and, looking at the young man’s increasingly dazzling golden hair under the Holy Light, reluctantly and painfully refused, “O-Olovice, Grace’s friend is here. I can’t help you with this.”

“Father Andre asked me to bring a lot of things for her. Since Miss Grace has guests tonight, can I leave the gifts at the vine wall? It won’t disturb Miss Grace,” Olovice suggested, while also feeling curious about the witch’s guest. His teacher hadn’t mentioned that Miss Grace had any friends.

He put away the Holy Light.

The simple twilight fairies couldn’t detect anything wrong with his words. Springwater happily pointed the way, “Olovice, just keep going forward. After you see three banyan trees hugging each other, walk three circles to the left and five circles to the right, and you’ll see a vine wall behind the banyan trees.”

“Thank you,” Olovice thanked Springwater, picked up the packages, and set off. Soon, he saw the three banyan trees Springwater mentioned.

They were easy to find. Three huge banyan trees shared the same root, causing their branches to twist and intertwine, making it impossible to distinguish the main trunk from the side branches. The night breeze added a touch of eeriness.

Olovice walked three circles to the left and five circles to the right around the banyan trees. When he stopped, a vine wall appeared before him.

Olovice listened intently for a moment and faintly heard a strange girl’s voice, about the same age as Grace.

Olovice put down the packages and was about to knock when the vine wall suddenly moved and parted.

A strange witch, not watching her step, bumped right into Olovice.

Of course, Olovice was fine. He gently steadied the unsteady red-haired witch, noticing she was holding her nose, the pain making her eyes water.

Olovice apologized, “I’m very sorry, miss. Are you alright?”

The red-haired witch looked up, about to get angry, but her eyes lit up when she saw the white-robed young man’s appearance. She grabbed Olovice’s arm and excitedly said to the approaching Grace, “Grace, look, this is the person I’ve been looking for.”

“No, let him go,” Grace was a bit surprised to see Olovice. Hearing the red-haired witch’s words, she refused without thinking, “He’s the church’s steward.”

“Isn’t that even better?” The red-haired witch was excited. “Because the baron has taken an interest in magic, countless alchemists, witches, and dark wizards have flocked to Morito City. The Black Tower Baron’s generosity is like an endless stream of gold. He even has a witch companion.”

“Last year, news came that he was looking for a sacred song spokesperson for the luxurious church in Morito City, open to anyone.”

“And he is so perfect, so fitting!”

Grace angrily said, “No means no. Let him go.”

The red-haired witch snorted coldly, her long red hair moving without wind, growing like snakes, about to wrap around.

Olovice had heard what he wanted to hear. He looked at the short and thin red-haired witch, his lips moving slightly, casting a spell in Krumbis language.

“Light shaping, radiant cage.”

A vertical beam of Holy Light descended, forming a cage that trapped the red-haired witch. She was stunned and began to struggle fiercely, but as soon as she touched the light cage, it caused piercing pain. The previously arrogant red snake hair suddenly shrank by half, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat.

Olovice tidied his wrinkled sleeves and said a polite yet infuriating remark to the red-haired witch.

“Please don’t move, Miss Witch.”

“You are under arrest.”