Chapter 123: Indulgence

Chapter 123: The Indulgence

Seven Lamps City... Aether tried hard to recall the map of Moltalia he had seen in the Grand Master's war tent.

It seemed to be a city located in the mid-to-lower stretches of the Evre River. Had he really drifted all the way here from White Spring Valley?

"Did you save me?" he asked again.

The woman smirked: "Oh no, you crawled out of that river all by yourself, sewed yourself up and bandaged your own wounds, hopped onto the wagon yourself, and drove it hands-free."

The driver was getting impatient: "Yes! It was us! Damn it, Ingrid, can't you just talk like a normal person?"

Aether, slightly embarrassed, averted his gaze, realizing he'd asked a stupid question. Of course it was this woman and the driver who'd saved him. The woman was called Ingrid, and the driver was called Cornelis—he'd picked up their names from their conversation.

"Thank you," Aether said, then coughed hard twice, his wounds throbbing painfully from the effort.

"Alright, stop talking." Ingrid patted the bandaged spot on Aether's left arm—he suspected she did it on purpose—"You're banged up pretty bad, so save your strength, Your Honor the Inquisitor."

In an instant, Aether's back was drenched in cold sweat.

"How did you know..."

"Maybe because you're wearing a white robe with a Sun Emblem on it, and the holy emblem's got 'Senior Inquisitor' engraved on it?"

Aether instinctively reached for his chest, feeling a hard piece of metal through the fabric. His emblem was still right there.

"If you don't want me calling you Inquisitor, then how about telling me your name."

Aether hesitated, then said, "Aether."

He looked at the flaxen-haired woman and asked, "Why did you save me?"

Ingrid blinked in surprise: "Wait, you didn't want to be saved? I thought you got hurt and fell in the river by accident—was that not it? You were trying to drown yourself?"

She suddenly looked all gloomy, like she'd accidentally gotten in someone's way and felt awful about it.

"I did fall in the river hurt... but you're Mortalians, right? And I'm an Inquisitor of Heresy from the Holy Nation. Shouldn't you... hate my guts?"

Cornelis, who was driving, said, "I don't remember the God of Dawn's scriptures ever saying anything like 'don't save the dying.' Next time you guys invent a new theological rule, make sure to send me a copy."

Aether didn't know what to say. He wondered if he'd run into one of those nearly extinct do-gooders who'd save even enemy soldiers without a second thought.

And yet the knight order he thought of as brothers had tried to kill him. What a cruel irony.

"I... I don't know how to thank you two."

"We'll hit the Evre Bridge soon," Ingrid said. "The Duke of Cold Mountain's men have set up a checkpoint there. You can hop off there. The Duke's an ally of your Holy Nation, right?"

As she said the word "ally," a mocking smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"His men will definitely take good care of you. If you put in a good word with your bosses and ask them not to shut down our little shop, I'd be real grateful. Ugh, just thinking that the Duke of Cold Mountain's gonna be our king makes me feel cursed."

Duke of Cold Mountain... Aether mulled over the name, trying to place who he was. The Holy Nation had invaded Moltalia under the banner of "purge heresy, save the faithful, and put the rightful heir, the Duke of Cold Mountain, on the throne." Duke Alfonso of Cold Mountain was supposed to work with the Holy Nation from the inside. Before the Battle of White Spring Valley, he'd already seized control of the capital, Starfall City.

"No!" He grabbed Ingrid's sleeve with every last bit of strength he had, "Don't hand me over to the Duke of Cold Mountain's men—or the knight order either! I can't... I can't let them find me..."

The flaxen-haired woman's eyes went wide: "Are you a deserter?"

Deserters from the army were branded cowards, and once captured, they were surely subjected to military discipline. Many people went to great lengths to hide, even preferring to live as savages in the deep mountains rather than return to the army.

Cornelis, who was driving, suddenly understood: "Like those people camping in the mountains."

"...What?" Aether was confused.

"There's also a group of deserters in the mountains near Seven Lamps City—not from your side, but household soldiers of some local lord. When they heard the Holy Nation was coming, they threw down their armor and fled, coming over to our side to become mountain bandits." Cornelis scoffed disdainfully through his nose.

Ingrid stared at Aether curiously: "Is it because you didn't want to attack our country that you became a deserter? Or did your superiors mistreat you?"

Aether could only smile bitterly inwardly. He wanted to explain that he wasn't a coward, but what good would explaining do? He might as well let them misunderstand.

"Something like that," he said quietly.

"Oh dear, what should we do then? When we reach the checkpoint, they'll check and you'll be exposed," Ingrid said. "You'll be captured and tortured, hehe... I mean, how terrible."

"Ingrid, you smiled," Cornelis accused.

"I did not. I absolutely was not imagining this Inquisitor being tortured," Ingrid swore, pointing to the sky. "I just suddenly thought of a way to help him get through."

She rummaged excitedly through her luggage, then pulled out a woman's long dress.

Her face was full of anticipation, her eyes sparkling.

Aether felt something was wrong. "Miss, you mean... you want me to wear women's clothing?"

"We originally had a female companion who got off midway. You put on the dress and pretend to be her when we go back—those soldiers will never suspect a thing."

As Ingrid spoke, she pulled out many bottles and jars, seemingly cosmetics, each with enough lead content to cause chronic poisoning.

Aether wanted to run, but there was nowhere to escape in this moving wooden carriage. He had no doubt that even if he jumped out, Ingrid would grab his foot and drag him back.

"Cornelis, you help him get dressed!" Ingrid commanded. "I'm a young lady, it's not proper for me to undress a man!"

"Is it proper for me to undress a woman?! And he's not even wearing clothes!" Cornelis roared.

"Isn't he wearing bandages?"

"None of us here call bandages clothes!"

Aether closed his eyes, letting the man and woman's bickering echo in his ears. Before falling into the water, he never imagined he would end up in such a situation. Was this the God of Dawn's trial for him?

If so, then the God of Dawn was indeed a god who loved pranks...

In the end, he despairingly put on the long dress and let Ingrid smear a lethal dose of cosmetics on his face. Ingrid covered him with a blanket, leaving only half his face exposed, and instructed him to act weak. Aether didn't need to act—he was already weak.

The carriage crossed the Evre Bridge. The soldiers at the checkpoint stopped the carriage, took one glance inside, and cursed as they jumped back. Aether heard Cornelis explain in a fawning tone that their patient hadn't been cured, and the doctor had told them to take him back to prepare for the funeral. The soldier, with a look of disgust, ordered them to cremate the body on the spot and not drive around spreading contagion.

The carriage passed through the checkpoint with ease, heading along the Evre River toward Seven Lamps City. Aether listened to the roaring rush of water, his thoughts drifting back to the moment he fell into the river.

Nashel's red hair flashed before his eyes, as if branded onto his retinas. But that brilliant, fluttering red would never be seen again.

For a moment, he truly wanted to follow Nashel. But this life was bought with Nashel's own—he absolutely could not waste it.

Even if he had to temporarily swallow his pride, lie low, and hide, he had to survive. He must not be found by the knight order. He had to find a way to contact the Tribunal. Other Inquisitors had also been dispatched to coordinate with the knight order—if he could first be protected by them, perhaps...

"Inquisitor, we've arrived."

The carriage stopped. Ingrid opened the door, and a ray of evening sunlight fell on Aether's face.

Together with Cornelis, she helped Aether down from the carriage. Aether leaned almost his entire weight on the two of them. He had never been so disheveled in his life. In the past, this would certainly have filled him with shame. But after being forced into women's clothing, the baseline of his dignity had unknowingly lowered considerably.

Before them stood a modest inn. On the front wall hung a gilded frame, and as Aether was helped closer, he was startled to find a document covered in intricate patterns inside the frame.

"What is this?" Aether asked in shock.

"An indulgence," Cornelis answered matter-of-factly.

"You hang an indulgence by your front door?" Aether murmured.

"That's right. Once Saintlanders see it, they won't bother us," Cornelis said with a confident nod.

Aether's lips moved helplessly, like a fish flopping on the sand.

After a long pause, he asked, "How did you come by an indulgence?"

"I gave money to the church," Cornelis said with a shrug.

"So you worship the God of Dawn?"

At this, both siblings gave Aether a strange look.

"People in Moltalia worship the God of Dawn too. What kind of question is that?"

"If the God of Dawn wanted to strike me dead with one swing of his sword, he'd have done it by now. Doesn't that mean He acknowledges me as His follower?"

Aether had nothing to say to that. Of course, he thought, Moltalia certainly has followers of the God of Dawn, though not many. Otherwise, the Holy Nation wouldn't be going on about "saving believers from suffering."

Was that why they saved him—because they shared his faith? But they thought he was a deserter, a coward who'd abandoned the faith—so why take him in?

The two helped Aether stagger into the inn. The ground floor was hazy with smoke, and a rough-looking bunch of men and women sat clustered around tables piled with dice, cards, chips, and naturally, gold coins.

A man playing cards looked up in disbelief as they entered. "That sick and still hitting a brothel—this world's done for!"

Ingrid immediately blew up, cursing the man out. Cornelis sighed and let her go at it, muttering in a Moltalian dialect Aether didn't catch as he helped the wounded Inquisitor upstairs to a guest room.

From his bed, Aether could hear Ingrid's shrill voice loud and clear downstairs. She insulted the man's parents, spouse, siblings, kids not even born yet, long-dead ancestors, livestock, and pets—her vocabulary so colorful it felt like a masterclass in cursing. The guests burst into thunderous laughter, and the whole inn was roaring with laughter.

This was no ordinary inn. Aether suspected he'd stumbled into the lair of some criminal organization, but... whatever. The biggest criminal den in the world was Dawnlight Knights HQ, and he'd been in and out of there countless times. No other criminal group could intimidate him now.

Cornelis had a boy named Conrad look after him. The boy wet a towel and scrubbed the makeup off Aether's face. For some reason, he rubbed with great force, as if trying to scrub Aether's face clean off.

"Sorry, sir, Ingrid's makeup skills are truly superb—this scar looks so real, I can't get it off!" the boy lamented.

"…What if it's actually a real scar?"

The boy squinted at Aether, then beamed: "Oh! It really is! I thought I was losing my touch!"

Now his face hurt too, on top of everything else. Conrad meant well but had clumsy hands. After Conrad dumped hot soup on his chest for the third time, Aether decided to drink on his own despite the pain—otherwise, he'd drown in soup before he ever got full.

He drifted off to the sound of dice and shouting from downstairs. Oddly, he didn't dream at all. Not good ones, not bad ones—nothing. When he woke up, it was already bright morning.

Conrad brought breakfast, but Aether politely turned him down, insisting on doing it himself. The odds of choking on bread weren't zero, but with Conrad helping, they'd hit a hundred percent.

The inn was calmer in the daytime. Aether lay in bed, listening to horses neighing in the yard and kids bickering.

All he had to do was rest and heal. Cornelis came daily to change his dressings, his movements far more precise than Conrad's—too skilled for someone who just runs an inn.

This was perhaps the most peaceful stretch Aether had had since leaving the Seminary. After joining the Inquisition, his life had been filled with battles, blood, and endless travel. The only good thing on those exhausting trips was…

He shouldn't dwell on it. What was gone was gone, no matter how much he missed it.

A pack of kids at the inn called themselves "the Rat Gang—the greatest gang in Moltalia," which sounded grand, but Aether soon saw they were just a dozen or so street kids who ran errands around the inn in exchange for food.

"That way, nobody can trick them into selling themselves or snatch them to break their legs and turn them into beggars," Cornelis explained as he bandaged Aether. "Once they're older, they can apprentice somewhere. It's rough, but if they pick up a skill..."

A few days later, his shallower wounds had scabbed. A few days after that, the stitches came out. New scars piled on old ones, crisscrossing like a messy web.

Aether could walk now. Conrad would sometimes help him take a turn around the backyard. He'd sit on a barrel and watch the inn's shady guests—definitely not regulars—slip in and out the back door.

At first everyone gave him weird looks, but eventually they just ignored him, like he was a statue.

And Aether figured out their secret. They weren't just gamblers and drinkers—they were thieves. They gathered regularly at the Rusty Anchor Inn to share the latest news from the underworld or plan how to fleece unsuspecting marks.

They piled stolen gold and jewels on the table, and Ingrid redistributed them based on contributions. Those dissatisfied with the split usually got a beating from Ingrid.

If disputes arose among them, Ingrid mediated—typically by beating both parties.

Then they'd drink, gamble, and squander their ill-gotten gains. When in a good mood, they'd buy gifts for the Rat Gang kids.

Occasionally, Aether saw well-dressed gentlemen of high status visit Cornelis late at night. On those nights, Ingrid would shoo the Rat Gang outside and lock the inn's doors tightly. The next day, Cornelis would rise late, but the inn would receive a hefty sum.

"Do you know what Cornelis and Ingrid do?" Aether asked Conrad gravely one evening in the backyard.

"Of course! They're the heads of the Thieves' Guild!" Conrad's lack of hesitation shocked Aether. His tone was even respectful.

"And those... those who visit him at night..."

"Oh, those are the lords of Seven Lamps City and nearby nobles," Conrad shrugged. "Cornelis is close with them, so they allow him to run his inn and business here."

With that, the boy gave a thumbs up: "They're quite the pair—sister a thief, brother a whore!"

"Don't pick up strange words from Ingrid!" came Cornelis's roar from behind.

He shooed Conrad away, sat on a barrel, and lit his pipe. He studied Aether, then asked with a smile, "What's wrong? Ashamed to share the faith with us siblings?"

"Not at all," Aether said quickly. "But your inn does well enough, doesn't it? Why would you still..."

"If I were cozy with those nobles yesterday and suddenly dumped them today, what do you think they'd do tomorrow?" Cornelis asked sarcastically.

Aether lowered his eyes. "...I understand."

Cornelis took a puff from his pipe. He seemed in a talkative mood. "My sister and I ended up on the streets when we were very young. The previous head of the Thieves' Guild took us in and trained us as little thieves. Later, he was caught and hanged in the square. I was fifteen then.

"To survive in the underworld, you need connections in the legitimate world. So I found a baron. Alas, I couldn't let my sister do that—if she got pregnant, it'd be trouble. But I'm a man; it didn't matter to me. The baron lent me money, and I opened this inn as a cover, and from there, I established myself."

Aether asked, "Then why do you follow the God of Dawn? Family tradition?"

Or, he wondered, because you know you've sinned and seek redemption through religion?

Cornelis squinted, lost in memory.

"That was nearly ten years ago. A couple from the Holy Nation traveling in Moltalia stayed at our inn—we often get ordinary, unsuspecting travelers here," he added.

"They were both followers of the God of Dawn. That same night, another group of guests arrived from further north, followers of some winter god. The husband was displeased, and his wife urged him: 'Dear, why do you dislike them? The scriptures of the God of Dawn speak only of love, never of hate.'

"So the couple stayed. I thought, oh, is that what the God of Dawn is like? I got curious and went to ask. The lady was generous—she gave me her scripture and told me where the nearest church was and when I could attend sermons.

"From that day on, I've followed the God of Dawn. I know what I am, but so what? If I'd been born into a decent family, who wouldn't want to live a proper life? It wasn't my fault I ended up begging, stealing, and selling myself. But letting homeless girls wander the streets, or turning a blind eye to the injured—that would be my fault."

Cornelis drew deeply on his pipe, exhaling smoke slowly, watching it drift away in the night breeze.

"Everything the God of Dawn asked of me that I could do, I've done. What I couldn't manage, well, there's no helping it. Does that make me a good follower, Your Honor the Inquisitor?" he asked. "If I die one day, will I be allowed into His radiant, eternal sanctuary?"