Chapter 125: The White Robe

Chapter 125: White Robes

Ingrid instinctively raised her arm to shield her head.

The squad leader raised his longsword, ready to bring it down in one stroke—

"Stop!"

A sword suddenly came at him from the side and behind. The squad leader instinctively dodged, but the enemy had completely anticipated his movements. The strike was a feint—the moment he dodged, the blade reversed course, thrusting into his wrist and knocking his longsword away.

The squad leader hastily raised his arms to block. The longsword slipped deftly between his arms, the blade pointing straight at his throat.

The squad leader dared not move. The blade pressed against his skin—if it advanced half an inch further, his blood would spray toward the ceiling like a fountain.

He considered himself no slouch in combat, yet the opponent had disarmed him in one stroke and cornered him with the next. What kind of swordsmanship was this?!

The squad leader stared at the man pointing the sword at him. He wore a faded shirt and carried no weapons on his person. He was thin, looking unwell, as if he had just recovered from a serious illness or severe injury, but his impeccable stance told the squad leader this was a seasoned fighter not to be messed with.

His brilliant golden hair was unkempt, falling messily over his shoulders. Amid the curling golden strands, a pair of azure eyes as clear as the sky peeked out. The moment those eyes locked onto him, the squad leader felt an inexplicable fear and couldn't meet his gaze—just as mortals dare not look directly at the sun's boundless radiance.

Suppressing his unease, the squad leader roared, "D-do you know who I am?! Opposing me means opposing our lord! You won't have enough heads to pay for this!"

The golden-haired man gave him a cold glance, his gaze pausing briefly on the three-mountain crest on the squad leader's tunic: "Why are the Duke of Cold Mountain's men harassing innocent civilians?"

His words stoked the squad leader's fury. In all of Sevenlamp City, the Holy Nation's knights were the ones you didn't mess with, followed by the Duke of Cold Mountain's army. Though he was just a squad leader, he wore the Duke of Cold Mountain's crest—how dare this man talk to him like that!

"Since you know we're the Duke of Cold Mountain's men, you still dare point a sword at me?! I'm here on the Duke's orders to capture a fugitive! If you hinder official business, I'll take you in too!"

The squad leader frantically signaled his subordinates: "What are you standing there for?! Arrest him!"

The soldiers raised their weapons, intending to surround the golden-haired man, but as if intimidated by some invisible aura radiating from him, every one of them hesitated, none daring to step forward.

"Useless fools!" the squad leader fumed. He was something of a minor officer in the army, yet today he had made a complete fool of himself, cornered by a nobody. How could he ever hold his head up in the army again!

The golden-haired man stood unmoved, speaking in a calm, almost terrifying voice: "There are no fugitives here. You can leave now."

This man's arrogance was insufferable! The squad leader was livid: "You say there aren't, so there aren't? Who do you think you are?"

The moment he finished speaking, the man unclasped a pendant from his neck and held it dangling between his fingers.

The pendant spun in midair. The first thing the squad leader saw was an ornate holy emblem set with gems—a white sun against a colorful backdrop.

Then it spun to the back, engraved with two lines: Religious Inquisition. Inquisitor of Heresy.

"You—you—you're from the Holy Nation?" A bead of cold sweat trickled down the squad leader's temple. "Impossible, how could a Senior Inquisitor be in a place like this? You must be an impostor!"

The golden-haired man stared at him coldly: "I am Senior Inquisitor Aether Orolan, on a confidential mission in Moltalia on orders from the Inquisition. If you don't believe me, you may verify with the Dawnlight Knights stationed in Sevenlamp City. Or do you think the knight order is fake too?"

Senior Inquisitor... confidential mission!

The squad leader suddenly felt his mouth go dry. This man wasn't afraid to be confronted by the knight order—could he really be a genuine Inquisitor?

He opened his mouth several times, but not a single word came out. The scarred man who had lured him to the inn saw the tide turning and bolted for the door. But the moment he turned, he was knocked flat by a punch from a guest who had just gotten up.

Aether surveyed the remaining soldiers and commanded, "Arrest that deserter who started the rumors. Clean up the mess for the innkeeper. Don't make me say it twice!"

The soldiers looked at each other, then at the squad leader whose life hung by a thread under the blade, and had no choice but to sheathe their weapons.

A young soldier timidly righted a table. The others, as if suddenly remembering their manners, began brushing dust off the Rat Gang kids.

Ingrid stood with Misha's help, gazing at Aether with a complicated look, as if she wanted to speak but held back.

The golden-haired Inquisitor shook his head at her, lowered his sword, and took the holy emblem back from the dazed, sweat-soaked squad leader, hanging it around his own neck.

The chain bit into his skin, stinging slightly. For a moment, Aether wondered if he had lied publicly and incurred the wrath of the God of Dawn.

Then he laughed bitterly to himself and dismissed the thought.

Even those who betrayed their comrades had drawn no divine punishment. Why would his small lie anger the God of Dawn?

So where was the God of Dawn's mercy and majesty?

Revealing his identity here, while it could stop these soldiers, would undoubtedly expose who he was. The knight order was close at hand—if they heard he was still alive, they would certainly come to silence him...

He wondered if he could leave before word reached the knight order. But before that, he had to deal with these soldiers and make sure the inn was safe.

"Since you know who I am, get lost." Aether stared coldly at the squad leader. "Don't delay my confidential mission. Or perhaps you'd like to visit the Inquisition?"

The squad leader trembled, barely able to stand under his imposing presence.

The reputation of the Religious Inquisition was known even to Mortalians. It was said that the luckiest who entered came out as corpses, while the unfortunate would curse the day they were born...

Rapid hoofbeats approached from afar, stopping before the inn's door.

"What's going on here? What a mess?!"

A group of knights in gleaming armor filed in. Seeing the chaos in the hall and the soldiers cleaning up, they paused in confusion.

The squad leader rushed toward the knights' Chief like a man seeing a savior. Though he disliked these occupying Holy Nation soldiers, they were now the only ones who could expose the golden-haired man.

"Sir Knight, there's a man here claiming to be an Inquisitor of Heresy, obstructing our search for a fugitive... That's a wanted criminal personally ordered captured by the Duke of Cold Mountain! We're just following orders..."

The knight chief's gaze swept the room, finally settling on Aether's face.

He let out an incredulous groan beneath his helmet, then raised his visor, revealing a familiar face.

"Captain Perun?"

It was the Knight Captain who had received them at the outpost when Aether led the prisoners of Cape Prison across the continent. He had been reassigned to the front lines as well.

Was he also a conspirator with Grand Master Antonella? Had he received orders to kill Aether on sight?

Aether clenched his fists. If Captain Perun made a move, he would rather fight to the death. He could use his Supernatural Ability right here, take them all down...

Captain Perun's eyes flickered. He pressed his hand on the hilt of his sword and said slowly and deliberately, "No, I don't know him. There's no such person in the Inquisition."

The squad leader was overjoyed, laughing wildly: "I knew it! How could a Senior Inquisitor possibly be in a place like this!"

He jumped up on the spot, pointing at Aether as he ordered his men: "Seize this madman impersonating an Inquisitor at once! I'll hang him from the city gates as a warning to all..."

Before he could finish, another burst of hoofbeats sounded on the street outside the inn.

Perun's face turned ashen. He was about to command his knights to attack Aether, but footsteps were already echoing from outside.

"Captain Perun, we heard there are fugitives here, so we've come to assist you..."

A group of young men in white robes, swords at their waists but not dressed as knights, strode into the inn.

What met their eyes was the chaos everywhere, the squad leader whose mood had swung wildly, and Perun, whose face was as grim as if he were attending a funeral...

Confusion flickered across their faces.

"What are you all doing here...?" The young man in the lead scratched his head.

When he noticed the golden-haired man facing off against Peng Lun, he couldn't help but gasp, his expression as stunned as if every Patron Saint in history had risen from their graves and were dancing around him in celebration.

"Inquisitor Aurolan!" He stumbled forward, grabbing Aether by both arms and squeezing hard, to make sure he was a real, living man and not a ghost or apparition.

"…Cleran?" Aether recognized the young man in the white robe. His name was Cleran Bellax, a young Inquisitor in the Tribunal. He had no Supernatural Ability, but came from a noble family in the Holy City, and had been promoted to the Tribunal right out of the Seminary.

Cleran was overjoyed: "I heard you'd fallen. By the glory of the God of Dawn! I knew you couldn't die that easily!"

"What are you doing here?"

"We were ordered to search for that mysterious… for heretics in Seven Lamp City." Cleran stopped himself mid-sentence, his eyes saying "you know what I mean."

Aether gripped Cleran's arms tightly and let out a long breath. His tense nerves finally relaxed.

He'd thought he was cornered with no way out, but his own brothers had shown up just in time. The knights wouldn't dare pick a fight with this many Inquisitors here. This must be what they meant by a silver lining.

"How did you end up here? How'd you survive?" Cleran asked urgently.

Aether lowered his voice: "It's a long story. Protect me right now. I need to get in touch with the Chief."

Cleran was puzzled. Protect him from who? Everyone here was family in the faith! But he instinctively obeyed his superior's orders.

"I'll take you back to our quarters. I brought the Farsight Mirror too."

With that, the young Inquisitor turned to Captain Perun, wondering why he was standing there frozen like a statue.

"Weren't you looking for fugitives? Go right ahead."

Captain Perun ground his teeth. Cleran had brought over a dozen men, all sent on assignments. If they all "disappeared without a trace" or "died in battle" in Seven Lamp City, the Tribunal would definitely get suspicious.

But once Aether Orolan got back to the Holy City, the secret orders Grand Master Antonella had given them, the truth behind Nashir Solaris's death…

"The search is… already done." Captain Perun sheathed his sword, speaking through gritted teeth.

He kicked the squad leader out of frustration. The latter's heart had already sunk the moment he heard Cleran shout the golden-haired man's name. He'd offended both the knights and the Tribunal, and still hadn't completed Duke of Cold Mountain's mission. Would he live to see the sun tomorrow?

Ingrid clutched her wounded arm, limping to the door and leaning against the frame.

"Since you fine lords have finished your search, can we reopen for business?" She forced a tight smile. "I wonder who could've framed our humble inn. Oh, it was that gentleman over there! I heard he's a soldier under some lord or other—shouldn't he be sent back to his master?"

The scarred man shook like a leaf. As a deserter, getting sent back to his lord meant certain death.

He wailed, begging for mercy while insisting fugitives were hiding in the inn. Peng Lun didn't even give him a glance, turning and walking away. The squad leader viciously ordered his men to drag the scarred man to prison. As he was dragged out, he screamed nonstop, his legs kicking wildly, leaving a trail of dirty water behind him.

Ingrid watched them leave, looking smug. If her arm hadn't been wounded, she would've pulled out a floral handkerchief and waved them off in style.

Aether was escorted out by his Tribunal brothers. Cleran generously offered him his horse. Aether grabbed the saddle and climbed on. It had been a long time since he'd ridden, and even such a simple move felt a bit strenuous.

The Rat Gang kids came running out after him.

"You're leaving now, Aether?" Conrad looked up with his little face, dried blood still crusted under his nose.

Aether hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"Goodbye, Conrad," he said. "I didn't expect to say goodbye so suddenly."

The boy hung his head, kicking at the pebbles on the ground. Aether could tell he didn't want him to go but was too shy to say it.

"Take care of your Rat Gang," he said.

"Don't need you to remind me! Hmph, just you wait—once we get back to Starfall City, we'll be the biggest gang in no time. You'll hear about us even in the Holy City!"

Cleran looked at them suspiciously, wondering why Senior Inquisitor Auroran would be so chummy with this little beggar.

Ingrid and Cornelis came running out after him.

"You're just gonna leave like that?" The flaxen-haired woman glared at him, annoyed.

Aether's lips moved slightly as he bowed his head to the siblings in farewell.

Ingrid fumed: "You big liar! You said you were a deserter, but look how important you really are!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Then pay for your room and board."

"What?" Aether stared at her blankly.

Ingrid said, dissatisfied: "You stayed with us, ate with us, wore our clothes, and didn't even lift a finger! We're not a charity!"

Broke, Aether looked to Cleran for help. Cleran was bewildered but pulled out his wallet, counted out a few gold coins, and handed them to Ingrid. Though he wasn't sure about prices in Moltalia, these coins should be more than enough.

Ingrid snatched the coins, picked up her skirts, and hurried back into the inn.

"…Did I give too little?" Cleran asked uneasily.

Cornelis shrugged and held out his hand to Aether.

Aether bent down and shook his hand.

"Thanks for helping us out of trouble." There was a hint of quiet sadness in Cornelis's voice. "The goodbye came suddenly. I'd like to say goodbye, but I guess we'll never see each other again."

Aether suddenly felt his nose tingle.

"Thanks for everything you've done for me," he said. "As long as you're alive, there's always a chance we'll meet again."

Just then, Ingrid came running out again.

"Your change," she said haughtily, then pressed a neatly folded piece of white fabric into Aether's hands.

Aether unfolded it and caught his breath.

It was a white robe—the one he'd been wearing when he fell off the cliff. It had been cut to shreds by the traitors and stained with blood. Aether had assumed it had been thrown away long ago.

"I washed it clean," Ingrid said with a pout.

"I did the washing!" Conrad corrected her from the side.

"And I sewed it back together. Some places were too torn to fix, so I patched them with other cloth. Your church robes are made of fine wool—we couldn't get material that good, so I used plain white cloth."

"I picked it out in town!" Misha also corrected her.

"Think you're so clever, huh?" Ingrid grabbed both kids by the ears with one hand. They squealed and squirmed.

Cornelis smiled. "Just make do with it for now. Once you're back in the Holy City, you'll get a new one anyway."

The white robe carried the clean scent of soap. The children of the Rat Gang must have washed it meticulously, time and again, to get the blood-soaked areas clean.

The torn spots had been stitched up with fine, tight stitches. Set against the high-grade wool, patches of cheaper white cloth showed a faint gray amid the snow-white fabric.

Compared to the immaculate white robes worn by Creiran and the others, this patched and mottled robe looked like a beggar's rags. It was truly unbecoming for a dignified Inquisitor to wear something like that.

But to Aether, no gift in the world was more noble or precious than this.

Under the bewildered looks from Creiran and the others, he draped the robe solemnly over his shoulders.

"See ya, Aether—don't go dying on us next time!" Ingrid called out.

"Lord Auroran, we should get going." Creiran (who shared a horse with another companion) urged.

Aether nodded. He took one final, lingering look at the Rusty Anchor Inn, sweeping his gaze over Ingrid and Cornelis, and the children of the Rat Gang leaning on one another, as well as the battered thieves who looked like they were enjoying the show...

Summoning every ounce of willpower he had, he forced his gaze away and snapped the reins.

The steed let out a long neigh and broke into a gallop. Aether leaned low over its back, his mottled white robe billowing with the wind, fluttering behind him like a flowing banner, tearing through the dim twilight as he rode off into the distance.