Chapter 126: Mouth of Truth

Chapter 126: The Mouth of Truth

The first sanctuary of the Dawn Church stood atop the peak of Mount Galgarg in the holy city. From afar, its majestic and resplendent silhouette loomed faintly through the clouds, like a pure white crown set upon the mountaintop by a god's own hand.

The staircase leading to the sanctuary's main gate was called the "Path of Ascension," comprising three hundred and sixty-five steps, each corresponding to a day in the solar calendar. Ascending step by step, one would involuntarily slow down—that tangible feeling of "I'm walking step by step toward God" would humble even the crudest brute.

Upon reaching the top of the steps, the grand sanctuary stood before one. It was not a single building but a complex of dozens of churches, prayer halls, gardens, and cloisters.

Over a hundred clergy from the Holy Order were on daily duty in the sanctuary. They served as the Holy See's secretaries and personal aides, helping him keep the Church running day to day. A two-hundred-strong guard protected the sanctuary. And the servants waiting on these bigwigs numbered ten times that.

The commoners of the holy city all fought for a chance to work in the sanctuary, yet not all were granted such an honor. Sanctuary servants had to come from respectable families, look decent, and train for months before they could land even a minor post there.

From dawn, they scurried through every corner of the sanctuary—sweeping courtyards, polishing windows, trimming flowers, and washing and ironing the clergy's vestments so they'd look spotless at ceremonies, showing off the God of Dawn's boundless majesty.

Right then, a young servant was mechanically sweeping the corridor, broom in hand. He wore a plain white robe, his silver-white hair tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

He was handsome—dressed in finer clothes, he might've been mistaken for a high-ranking priest or the son of some noble house. But his crimson eyes were dead, making him look like a soulless puppet.

Other servants shot him contemptuous looks as they passed. In the sanctuary, there were dozens of servants like the silver-haired youth, all sent by the Tribunal—officially "poor souls with intellectual disabilities, hoping to bask in the God of Dawn's boundless radiance."

But everyone knew the truth: they were failed experiments from the Tribunal's research division, their souls shattered to pieces, leaving only dull, mute shells. People gave them a derogatory nickname: "slag."

The silver-haired, crimson-eyed servant finished the corridor, grabbed his broom, and shuffled off to clean the courtyard. He swept the fallen leaves into a pile, but the wind blew them apart, and he blankly went to sweep them up again.

Two senior missionaries from the Gospel Missionary Order came from the other side of the courtyard, whispering secretively to each other.

"Did you hear? The Holy See urgently recalled the Grand Master from the front—she's being summoned today."

"Why? The front can't spare the Grand Master, can it? Or is it because the Preacher General's also headed north, so they're pulling the Grand Master off?"

"Didn't the Tribunal lose two Senior Inquisitors in battle recently?"

"I heard about that—one of them was from the Solaris family..."

The two stopped, noticing a servant still in the courtyard. They tensed, afraid he might've overheard their secrets and ratted them out—bribing servants to spy was standard practice in the sanctuary.

But when they saw the servant's vacant stare, the tension drained from their faces.

Slag were no different from idiots—they didn't gather intel or leak secrets. Many couldn't even speak, which made them the most docile, obedient servants.

"Oh, it's just slag. You scared me."

"Heh, that's the one good thing about slag. No wonder the Preacher General likes using them."

The two shook their heads, chuckling wryly at their own paranoia. No longer worried about the silver-haired, crimson-eyed young servant, they spoke freely:

"The other Inquisitor survived by some miracle. Apparently, he's going to accuse the Grand Master right in front of the Holy See."

"Why? Did the Grand Master's bad leadership get his comrade killed?"

"That I don't know. But the Knights and the Tribunal are really at each other's throats this time."

"No kidding. The Knights scored big this time, and the Tribunal got squat..."

The two cackled like hens and walked off.

Behind them, the silver-haired, crimson-eyed servant paused, staring thoughtfully at the most magnificent, ornate building deep in the sanctuary.

Meanwhile, atop the Tribunal's white tower, "Minister Lutz" stood by the window, coffee in hand, staring at the gleaming white sanctuary on the distant peak with a grim, solemn look.

Not long ago, Aether had arrived in the holy city, escorted by Cleran Bellax. Before that, he'd contacted the Tribunal via the Farsight Mirror and filled the Chief Inquisitor in on everything.

The news rocked the entire Tribunal. They'd long known about the Knights and Tribunal's quiet power struggle within the Church, but they never imagined the Grand Master would go so far as to strike directly.

"They're not even pretending anymore," Lyman said to Lunast. "Compared to that, I, a dark god, am practically a moral saint who fights evil and upholds justice. The Church should give me an award and make me a Patron Saint."

"I can give you an award, Lyman," Lunast said cheerfully. "How about the 'Judgment Angel Medal'? From now on, you're the patron saint of law and justice."

"No thanks. Sounds like some cheap divine knockoff award—low-tier."

Then Lunast sobbed in Lyman's head all night, keeping him up till dawn. But that's a story for another time.

Today was the day Aether and Grand Master Antonella were set to appear before the Holy See for a face-to-face confrontation. The Chief Inquisitor would also be there as a witness.

As head of the research division, "Mr. Lutz" had no reason to attend the Holy See's privy council, so he had to stay at the white tower. But Lyman had plenty of tricks up his sleeve—he could find other ways to listen in.

Deep in the sanctuary stood a magnificent, imposing building—the palace where the Holy See received visitors and held privy councils, the very heart of the Church. It was called the Solar Court.

A pigeon wobbled across the courtyard and landed on the Solar Court's roof.

The pigeons sunning themselves on the eaves stared at the newcomer in sheer terror.

"Coo! It's a pigeon!"

"Pigeon too long and you're dead! Coo!"

The pigeons flapped their wings and scattered in a flurry, leaving only the newcomer standing solemnly on the roof.

Lyman was controlling this dead pigeon with "Spirit Domination." A bird's body was too different from a human's, so Lyman couldn't control it with much finesse. But he didn't need the pigeon to fly with great agility—just to act as a faithful listening device.

Through the pigeon's clouded eyes, a golden-haired figure approached in the distance. He wore a tattered white robe that looked patched together from scraps, its hem fluttering in the wind as he walked. Clergy passing by gave him odd looks and whispered behind his back.

Aether Orolan didn't care. He strode proudly down the broad, column-lined corridor. The pure white marble pillars on either side were carved with shallow reliefs of the God of Dawn's miracles—the myth of His arrival in this world via the Stellar Conjunction, His victory over darkness and cold, His journey across the heavens, and His gift of light to the world.

He stopped before the Solar Court's closed golden doors. They had no lock and no handle—just a full white sun inlaid in white crystal.

"Senior Inquisitor Aether Orolan requests an audience!"

At the herald's cry, the golden doors slowly swung open before Aether, the white crystal sun splitting in half.

He took a deep breath and stepped in.

The first thing that hit his eyes was a blaze of color. The Solar Court's walls were adorned with magnificent stained-glass windows. Vibrant glass panels depicted stories of patron saints' miracles. As morning sunlight streamed through the windows, it cast dazzling colors across the hall, making you feel like you were walking through ancient legends, side by side with the saints of old.

Above, a vast dome built with exquisite architectural skill had a skylight at its center. Sunlight poured through the opening, forming a brilliant pillar of light like a spear thrust down from heaven, stabbing into the very heart of the Solar Court.

At the end of the red carpet, on a lofty altar, sat the mortal representative of the God of Dawn. An incomparably radiant blaze shrouded the altar's summit, making it impossible to look directly at the Holy See himself—just as mortals can't stare at the blazing sun in the sky.

Aether knelt on one knee before the altar, full of reverence.

"Your Holiness of boundless radiance, your faithful and humble servant Aether Orolan has come to seek an audience."

He bowed his head low until his golden hair slipped off his shoulders, the tips brushing the floor.

"Raise your head, Aether Orolan."

A majestic, otherworldly voice spoke from above.

Aether lifted his head at this, but his eyes soon watered and blurred from the dazzling light. He quickly lowered his gaze, fixing his eyes on the red carpet beneath him.

"I am glad you have returned alive." The voice within the blazing radiance held a note of kindness and warmth. "When I heard that you had fallen in battle against the infidels, I could not help but think that the God of Dawn must have needed a warrior as steadfast as you, and so summoned you to His heavenly kingdom. Now that I see you safe and sound, it must be that the God of Dawn has blessed you, so that you might accomplish even greater things in the mortal world."

"To be so blessed by divine grace, I am deeply honored," Aether murmured.

Was it truly the blessing of the God of Dawn? He wondered silently. Wasn't it the selfless sacrifice of Nashel and the kindness of the Cornelis siblings that had kept him alive?

The Holy See changed the subject: "I hear you intend to accuse the Grand Master, Antonella, of murdering you and Senior Inquisitor Nashir Solaris. Is this true?"

Aether clenched his fists. "Before the mortal representative of the God of Dawn, how could I dare speak a single falsehood?" he proclaimed. "The Grand Master ordered Senior Inquisitor Solaris and me to transport the infidel prince's corpse, but in truth, she lured us out into the wilderness, where soldiers disguised as infidels sprang an ambush on us.

"Solaris gave his life protecting me, and I survived only by falling into a river. It must have been the God of Dawn's will that I survive to speak of this injustice and accuse the true culprit."

Aether had already written up everything that happened that night in a report and submitted it to the Holy See. Today's statement was just a formality, to let those present know what had happened.

The Holy See was silent for a moment. "Do you have any evidence?"

"I saw it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears—I myself am the evidence!"

"The Grand Master, however, tells a different story. Do you dare confront her face to face?"

"I stand tall with a clear conscience. Why wouldn't I dare?"

"Grand Master," the Holy See called.

Aether stared at the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching from the side of the Sun Court. A pair of finely made iron boots came to a stop beside him. Antonella had ridden through the night to reach the holy city, yet her boots didn't have a speck of dust or dirt on them, gleaming so brightly they could have been mirrors.

"Your Holiness," the voice of Grand Master Antonella rang out.

Aether raised his head, his gaze traveling up the iron boots until it met Antonella's eyes in midair. Invisible sparks seemed to crackle in the air between them.

The woman at the pinnacle of the knightly order curled the corner of her lips into a smile, turned toward the altar, and bowed gracefully.

"Grand Master," the Holy See said, "the Senior Inquisitor accuses you of betrayal and murder. What do you have to say?"

Antonella let out a soft laugh. "I have always held Inquisitor Aurolan's skills and character in high regard. In the tribunal, he's the standout of the younger generation, the future pillar of the Church. I wouldn't dare claim he's deliberately slandering me... Surely there must be some misunderstanding?"

"Misunderstanding?!" Aether raised his voice, his fists clenching tighter, his nails digging deep into his palms. "The knights you sent with me attacked me from behind! Your subordinate Iannis disguised himself as one of the Griffin Legion's remnants! I saw it with my own eyes—how could that possibly be a misunderstanding?!"

Antonella didn't even glance at him, speaking toward the top of the altar: "It was a dark night, the two forces met by chance, and in the chaos of battle, there may have been accidental injuries. As for the claim that I ordered Iannis to disguise himself as the Griffin Legion, that's utter nonsense.

"I suspect it was the Griffin Legion disguising themselves as my men, deliberately sowing discord to drive a wedge between us. Inquisitor Aurolan is young, so falling for such a trick is understandable."

Aether ground his teeth. "That's a pack of lies!"

"Iannis is just outside. Your Holiness can summon him as a witness too."

"He's your subordinate—of course he's in cahoots with you!"

"Oh?" Antonella raised her voice. "So you're saying eyewitness testimony is unreliable? Yet your accusation rests solely on your own testimony too! Or do you have any other witnesses or evidence?"

"I..." Aether fell silent. He had no other evidence, that was true. Apart from himself, there was no way to prove Antonella's guilt.

Chief Inquisitor Elhart had warned him of this beforehand.

"Solaris is dead, and his body has already been disposed of by the knights. Of those present that day, aside from you, all are Antonella's confidants. Without evidence, and without a single person to testify on your behalf," the old man had said with a grim expression, "even so, do you still wish to accuse her before the Holy See? If you lose, it could very well harm your future and make an enemy within the Church."

Aether had replied coldly at the time: "She and I were already enemies long ago, Chief Inquisitor."

He had come here without hesitation, lodging his accusation before the mortal representative of the God of Dawn. If the God of Dawn truly watched over all things in the world, he thought, then surely there must be a way to prove Antonella's crimes.

"Most wise Holy See, I have a proposal," Aether said. "You must be aware that the tribunal possesses an ancient relic called the 'Mouth of Truth.' It can determine whether a person is lying."

He turned his gaze to Antonella, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes: "I wonder, Grand Master, would you dare to use the 'Mouth of Truth'?"

From among the listeners on the right side of the hall, a figure stepped forward. By the sound of the footsteps, it was Chief Inquisitor Elhart.

The old man carried an exquisite lion statue in his hands and handed it to the Holy See's attendant.

"The Mouth of Truth," the Holy See said slowly. "As I recall, one places a hand into the lion's mouth, and if one lies, the lion will bite down on that hand."

"Exactly so," the Chief Inquisitor replied. "This relic has helped the tribunal expose countless lies and arrest thousands of heretics... and worms within the Church itself."

The attendant presented the lion statue before Antonella. The Grand Master looked down at the lion's eyes and fell silent.

"Grand Master," the Holy See said, "do you dare place your hand in the lion's mouth and state everything you know?"

Antonella shrugged. "Since Your Holiness commands it, I naturally would not dare refuse. However, if the statue does not bite me, that would prove my innocence, would it not?"

She glanced at the Chief Inquisitor, then at Aether.

Aether nodded. "I trust in the power of the 'Mouth of Truth.' But you must not use ambiguous language to slip through."

Antonella curled the corner of her lips and thrust her right hand into the lion's mouth.

"I have never betrayed Inquisitor Aether Orolan or Inquisitor Nashir Solaris, nor have I murdered them," she said in a clear voice. "Nor have I directed, instigated, hired, or implied anyone else to betray or murder them. Those who killed Inquisitor Solaris and gravely wounded Inquisitor Orolan were remnants of the infidel Griffin Legion—not the Dawnlight Knights."

A profound silence fell over the Sun Court. All eyes were fixed on the exquisite lion statue.

They waited, and waited. Ten seconds passed, then a minute. The statue remained utterly still, without the slightest reaction.

Aether's soul trembled. His palms were bleeding from his own nails.

Antonella looked around at everyone, a triumphant gleam shining in her eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "may I now withdraw my hand?"