Lois

Oneiric Pastrycook

Overview

Seemingly just a human girl who fled to the Holy Theocracy early on, running a pastry shop in the city and living an ordinary, peaceful life. However, she also has poisoning skills that rival her pastry-making talent... along with another small secret.

Chapter One

(Era of Frost Veil 18123–Era of Eternal Flame 17) The early Age of Godslayingwas marked by turmoil and unrest, as recorded in Mirren's history. Turmoil and unrest, behind these two words lies a heavy cause, but to explain it, perhaps not much needs to be said: From the execution of Pope Estaria to Lois' birth in 18123, the Holy Theocracy had been known as the "Godforsaken Land" for 30 years. For the Yagol, with a lifespan of 70 years, 30 years reshaped two generations: "God has not forgiven this land's sins. She has abandoned humanity." A land forsaken by God, a people forsaken by God. Suspicion, poverty, famine, exile...All the suffering, the punishment for the sins beneath the divine retribution...God. Forsaken. Suffering. Deserved punishment. Lois knew these words, even though her hometown was outside the Holy Theocracy. Yet, like a shady corner still warmer than the sunlit street, the Theocracy's former glory cast its influence far and wide, spreading despair with no escape. Fortunately, from the time of her birth until she grew up, Lois still had her mother—Lois, a very ordinary Yagol, with an ordinary life no different from her neighbors. Though the village was barren, Lois's childhood, protected by her mother's cooking, was carefree. Lois remembered playing with girls her age—squatting under trees to count branches, racing leaf boats in puddles, or being called home before nightfall. Wasn't this how everyone spent their first five years, maybe ten if lucky? At least that's what Lois thought back then. Until one day, her mother did not wake up with the dawn.There had been signs, such as her mother often being ill for a while, and just before that dawn, she had spent much more time gazing into Lois' eyes. "Lois." Lois remembered her weak voice, filled with hazy longing, "I'm going to the gods to atone... I hope you can survive... live a little longer." Lois cried for a day or two, but after that, for years, she never had time to cry again—she hurried with the other villagers to flee the spreading plague, never to return home. "Is this divine retribution?" Lois remembered someone asking this as they looked back at their disappearing hometown in the dense forest. "Yes." Someone answered, probably one of the parents or elders urging their children. "Go quickly, or we'll all die, just like they did." "Just like they did?" Divine retribution? Lois remembered that moment. But she didn't say anything. She was just an ordinary Yagol girl, and even if she wanted to argue or resist, she didn't know what to say. She only knew one god. She lowered her head, gripping the small food hidden in her clothes, and pressed her feet harder into the ground with each step. But I want to live longer. She thought. Even like this, I want to live longer.

Chapter Two

Live a little longer—this phrase was simple and easy to understand, but... how could one do that? "People are fragile, and everyone is different... You all know this, right? To some powerful figures, we're no more than the gravel at their feet." After countless twists and turns on the road of exile, Lois joined a group—places that shelter refugees are not uncommon. The reason was simple: the group's leader had said the words above, followed by, "But even gravel, when gathered, can achieve something. With wind, gravel can cover the sky; with water, it can form a wall." Lois thought this was true. In fact, it was. For ordinary people, being part of a group was safer than being alone, at least psychologically... and that was enough. Lois adapted to the group, not by making friends or becoming a leader, but by accepting the basic rules—food, water, shelter, and supplies don't appear out of nowhere. Just like in the villages, where people work before they reap, Lois accepted this fact. She helped with everything she could: building shelters, patrolling at night, watching over children, and cooking food. Though she didn't fully trust some of the people, overall, Lois felt satisfied. It was as real and certain as the sun rising every day. Even when she was praised for baking bread or concocting medicine when supplies were scarce, she thought that staying in this group, in this environment, might not be such a bad thing. After all, her dream was simply to survive and live a little longer. It was a simple, ordinary human life. Day by day, it passed...Day by day...And during this time, Lois admitted that her memories of "exile" began to fade, as if a peaceful future was waiting for her, step by step. But one day, everything changed suddenly. "Did the new girl make these poisons? What a shame. She's pretty young, right? Maybe she'll be even stronger in the future. But... what a waste of such skills." "Yeah, I agree, but we can't just ignore the chief's orders because it's a shame. If we let her live, what happens to us?" "Yeah... that's true. Just saying, hah hah." What a shame? Hah hah? No time for hesitation, no room for shock or sorrow—those emotions were burdens. Lois took everything she could carry during a downpour, left without a word, and disappeared into the nearby forest. It didn't matter... Just gravel after all. Traveling far enough, Lois, now dusty and worn, looked up at the towering walls of the Holy Theocracy. She patted her chest, thinking: I'm just gravel. Since I've already accepted my insignificant existence, it doesn't matter where I roll off to—no one will notice, and I'll stay the same! She clenched her fist, deciding to wash her face before entering the city. She didn't know what lay ahead, but she was decided to try. "Get rid of these things and hide the money... Alright, let's try this, Lois. Start from the ground up. The goal is to open a small shop using my skills... ideally a bakery!" With this plan, her dream of survival didn't have to be tainted by the blood and tears taken from others. Once she made this decision, she felt a little extra joy. Indeed, now that her dream was to live longer, she also hoped to be away from suffering... and a little closer to sweetness and happiness.

Chapter Three

Lois's sweet and joyful bakery....Lois's bakery, which thrived for over sixty years, had earned its reputation. But for Lois, nervously opening her shop, it all felt like a distant dream. Revenue, profits, materials, inventory, unsold pastries... There was a lot to manage, and Lois could only learn as she went. The good news is, by the final moment, she had clearly mastered it. The bad news is, back then, Lois had no clue—or confidence. But then again, for an ordinary person, each day is rarely divided neatly into good and bad. No matter how Lois stumbled or fumbled, the results were acceptable—at this stage, she could confidently say: Now looking back, the third "someday" had finally arrived. Exactly. One day, in the bakery, at dusk, a strange man, a misunderstanding, death, poison, struggle, deception, leaving the city, and the misunderstanding finally cleared. Lois...Lois no longer knew how to put her feelings into words. Two years. Let's say it one more time—looking back from the final moment in time—it was just two years… only two years. What does two years even mean? Before now, Lois never imagined she'd be thinking this way. Her dream was simply to survive, to live a bit longer... surely "two years" wasn't enough. But…Was it because this phrase didn't set a definite time? Was that why those two years, so clearly separated, shone so brightly? Or Was it because, for so long, those two years replayed endlessly—by day, by night, in wakefulness and in dreams? But why only that? Why did she feel like it was only that? Why did she regret only knowing him in that time? Those two years had nothing to do with her dream at all.They were completely unrelated. She thought this over, deeply, carefully. Lois kept telling herself to forget, to ignore, to move on...But on the fourth day worth remembering, she realized that, to stop clinging to the two years with him, she'd already spent thirty-four such years. The thirty-fourth... two years. To the Yagol people, how would they call this period of time? Lois paused. She felt both fulfilled and empty—one voice celebrated her nearing dream's completion, while another, undefined, sighed with sorrow. She couldn't even tell anymore what kept her going through that endless sea of similar days. Was it her own desire to live a little longer? Or is she waiting for someone she knows will never return, someone who is already lost before this journey even begins? Her thoughts drifted back to a time when those days weren't as identical as they seemed, to when she had asked him, "You, so wise—can you tell me why?" Why would someone who's never seen a god, lived in pain, and never encountered one, still claim they'll atone before them? What sin has she committed? Will her family be doomed to the same fate? Lois wasn't sure if this was just something she'd brought up on a whim. Back then, she probably just wanted to stay with him a little longer, with few questions to ask. Fortunately, he never minded. He listened, he responded, and he said—......Lois slowly closed her eyes. It's been a long time, the time she has lived, day by day, up until now. It's already been so long. So long that reason had grown calm, and the other voice—undefinable—had fallen silent. She reclined in the lounge chair, watching the sun and moon cycle. In time, she found peace with the passing days and their regrets. "I won't go before the gods to atone," She thought. She have never seen them, so what's so special about them? She wouldn't go. This life has already been long enough, more than enough. "If there's anything left, it's my own 'gods,' the ones I've seen."

Historical Notes

"The Holy Theocracy in the Age of Godslaying": In 18093, Era of Frost Veil, Pope Estaria, the last of her line, was executed. Following her death, the once-glorious Holy Theocracy was utterly shattered, crumbling into fragmented lands ruled by near-independent cities. In this dark age, famine and poverty were inescapable for those in the Holy Theocracy and neighboring regions, and the world was haunted by forgotten hope and deep despair. "Blasphemous Poison": The Divine Dragon is Jancis. This revelation caused many of his followers to view dragons as divine messengers, believing that being harmed by one was a blessing. As a result, Lois, a mere human, was branded a "blasphemer" for creating poison capable of wounding and even slaying dragons.