“Gelin... did you practice swordplay before?”
After their 'warm-up' that morning, Maqi fell into a state of depression. She couldn't understand why she, a proud Knight, had been struck repeatedly by Ogre.
“Yes.”
Ogre nodded. He indeed had practiced a bit.
“The church trains all of its personnel, so it shouldn't be too surprising,” Macar chimed in, finding an excuse on Ogre's behalf.
The Church of Dawn did indeed train and screen all of its children.
Those who could become Knights would receive professional training.
Those who couldn't would undergo standardized obedience training, spending the rest of their time practicing meditation and studying the Divine Words.
They would see if they could channel the power of the Holy Light to become a Cleric.
And if they failed to become a Cleric by the time they reached adulthood, they could only become ordinary Sisters or missionaries—people like these were usually dispatched by the church to various villages.
Aside from preaching, these missionaries spent their days doing what ordinary believers were supposed to do, until their next generation of children was born.
Generally speaking, the younger one was when they joined the church, the better they would be at fighting after completing their training.
“I thought... someone like little sister Gelin wouldn't have been sent for training.” Maqi felt that Ogre's hands didn't look like those of someone who had studied the sword at all.
“That's you judging a book by its cover,” Macar spoke as if it were obvious, completely forgetting his own prior assumptions.
‘I should have realized sooner that Gelin wasn't just a pretty face. To have escaped from goblins is no small feat—I was just blinded by that face.’
The more Macar thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed.
As for the lack of calluses on her palms, it wasn't actually that hard to explain.
After all, with a relative at the level of a Discipline Grand Knight, one could easily ask a Grand Cleric to bestow a blessing of Holy Light to prevent their hands from becoming rough and unsightly.
“Little sister Gelin really is amazing,” Eve said with a giggle, glancing at the somewhat sullen Maqi.
This troublesome girl had finally suffered a setback.
“Alright, stop talking. It's time to help Mom buy groceries,” Maqi muttered, pouting.
She didn't want to admit that she, a professional Knight, was no match for someone with only amateur training.
“Knight Macar!” A Dawn missionary ran over in a hurry.
Macar had been about to tease his cousin, but he was interrupted by the missionary's urgent approach.
However, Macar was not one to lose track of his priorities; he naturally knew that church duties took precedence.
“What is it?” Macar's expression instantly shifted to one of serious composure.
“Grand Friar Fula wishes to see you,” the missionary said, handing over a letter adorned with golden patterns.
Macar took the letter and immediately channeled his battle qi to unlock the restriction placed upon it.
After scanning it quickly, his expression changed slightly.
“Understood!” Macar turned his head to look at Ogre. “Miss Gelin, I'll have to ask you to come with me.”
‘Did something happen to that place (Roke Town)?’ Ogre guessed the reason and nodded immediately.
“Yes.”
“Brother?” and “Brother Macar?” Maqi and Eve looked puzzled.
“I'll explain when I get back.”
Leaving them with those words, Macar quickly led Ogre toward where Fula was.
“Something major must have happened,” Eve murmured, growing worried as she watched Macar's departing figure.
She had only recently returned to the village from the city to find Macar.
And yet, after barely a single day, he was gone again.
‘No... the next time we have a night together, I must make sure to get pregnant!’
Eve unconsciously caressed the silver ring on her ring finger—it was a gift given to her by Mima on Macar's behalf.
As things stood now, this was clearly not enough.
“Probably,” Maqi agreed. She didn't quite understand why they had to take little Gelin along with them.
Could there be news from Notabon?
Was little Gelin about to leave...
‘No, I have to make sure I leave a lasting impression on her tonight...’
Maqi found that she was already somewhat reluctant to part with the girl.
...
“Grand Friar Fula,” Macar called out as the missionary led him to a secret chamber.
This was an important facility that the Church of Dawn established in all of its stationed villages. Typically constructed underground, it was rarely visited unless a highly significant event occurred.
“Cough, cough... Come on in, both of you.”
Fula's slightly weak voice sounded from within the chamber—even Ogre could sense the urgency in it.
“Please enter.” The missionary opened the door to the secret chamber and promptly stepped away.
The doors to the Church of Dawn's secret chambers were typically specially made with dual-sided mechanisms; entry was only possible when both the inner and outer locks were disengaged.
‘Something terrible must have happened...’ Ogre realized the severity of the situation.
Roke Town was likely even more dangerous than he had imagined.
“Let's go, Miss Gelin,” Macar said, pushing the door open and stepping inside first.
“Yes.”
Ogre closely followed behind Macar, entering the secret chamber.
The instant he stepped through the door, Ogre's heart skipped a beat.
It was because the scene before his eyes was truly too horrifying.
There, before him—
Fula, the white-robed Cleric who was usually so calm and serene, now hung upside down from a massive wooden cross with a bare upper torso, his arms dangling helplessly toward the floor.
Several long, slender black nails had been driven straight through his heart and armpits.
Black blood dripped slowly from Fula's wounds, pooling on the floor like a dark mirror.
The scene was both wretched and eerie.
‘What on earth happened here?’ Ogre found it hard to comprehend how such a powerful Cleric could have ended up in this state.
“Cleric Fula!” Macar cried out in anxiety.
“Cough, cough... Do not worry, child... This is not my true self,” the inverted Fula spoke slowly, attempting to reassure them.
However, his attempts at reassurance were rather ineffective, as he coughed up a mouthful of black blood with every word he uttered.
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