Chapter 14
Veris truly hadn't expected that it would be this priest who came to investigate the Amberley Mountains.
In an instant, he felt countless eyes focused on him.
He had to cough twice to relieve the long-lost discomfort—this was quite different from being the center of attention in the tavern.
"Good day, Father Webster." The poet nodded to the priest. "The mayor is already inside waiting for you all."
Father Webster, however, was in no hurry. Beneath his eyelids, which were wrinkled from the loose skin, his light brown eyes darted around. He glanced at the caravan resting nearby, saying nothing, but this brief glance put immense pressure on them.
Even they couldn't say for sure why. Perhaps it was Father Webster's solemn black robe, perhaps it was the bow and arrow medal on his chest representing the glory of the empire, or perhaps it was his naturally dignified face. In any case, when they came into Father Webster's view, everyone subconsciously looked away, unwilling to meet the old priest's gaze.
But this subtle avoidance displeased the fat merchant, who glared at his caravan, driver and men alike, then turned and shouted at Father Webster, "Old priest, I saw you at the Mercury Church years ago!"
His narrow eyes, squeezed by fat, exuded an inexplicable confidence as he began to speak fluently: "Back then, I went to the Church of Mercury to pray and heard your missionary rites. Do you remember me? I am James from Amberley. This is my caravan, and it is very famous in Amberley."
He paused, then eagerly announced what he most wanted to say: "I am going to Mercury for the sake of the greatest magician in the history of Mercury!"
Veris paused, turning his head to look at the smug James.
Father Webster had a strange expression, but he looked at Veris.
A sense of confusion and awkwardness filled the air. Veris racked his brains, trying to recall everything, and only after confirming that Sylvain had never been to Amberley and wouldn't have met any random people in Mercury did he realize that the fat merchant's claim of "the greatest magician in Mercury's history" was not Sylvain.
Once the logic was clear in his mind, Veris's expression immediately changed, and he looked at James with hostility.
Are you kidding me?! Mercury is the greatest magician of all time, how could it be anyone other than Sylvain!
Who would be so ungrateful as to boast like that?
Father Webster was adept at reading people. Seeing that Veris's expression was off, he turned his somewhat aged eyes and looked at James with a condescending air: "Is that so? Mr. James, the Church's holy light protects all people, and I am just one of them. But the magician you mentioned, perhaps I haven't been out for too long, I've never heard of him before."
This was both a way of getting information from James and a way of showing loyalty to Veris: he certainly didn't know any random magicians.
Upon hearing this, the fat merchant couldn't help but burst into laughter, his fat face jiggling as he said, "Old priest, you should go outside and see the world. Everyone knows how powerful Keith, the future great mage of Mercury, is. He instantly killed a sixth-tier magical beast with magic!"
"He's only twenty-seven years old!"
Veris: ...
Father Webster: ...
That's it?
If this person knew that Sylvain used magic to instantly destroy a group of eighth-tier magical beasts when he was seventeen years old, would he be so shocked that he would faint?
The poet looked up at the sky and realized that if he didn't go to gather inspiration soon, he would miss the tavern's opening time. So he politely said to Father Webster, "I'll be going now, Father."
Veris was too lazy to listen anymore. Father Webster saw Veris turn and run away, and there was no need for him to stay any longer. He nodded to James and said, "May the Pope protect him."
Then he turned around, mounted his horse, rang the bell, and the reins swung in a considerable arc before the church group hurried off.
Jaime was still dreaming of being protected by the future great wizard and being able to roam freely in Mercury and Amberley counties.
There is a fairly large field outside Albion, where Veris often goes. Because the field has many small swamps and the soil is not very fertile, the inhabitants of Albion have not chosen it as farmland.
However, the edge of the wilderness connects to farmland. The church's astrologers released astrological results two years ago, indicating that the southern part of the continent is suitable for planting wheat in the next two years. Looking around, the verdant wilderness is adjacent to wheat that is also half green and half yellow, stretching all the way to the foot of the winding hills and into the dense forest.
Not far away, a shepherd waved his long staff, preparing to drive his flock of sheep.
As always, Veris wandered through the fields, eventually reaching the groves at the foot of the mountains. He found the stream flowing at the foot of the mountains, observed it for a while, and then, seeing that it was getting late, got up and turned back.
The fiery clouds gradually faded, and stars twinkled in the gray-blue sky. The evening breeze blew through the young man's slightly curly hair as he stood in the field, looking up at the stars tonight.
The seven main stars that once hung high in the sky have all disappeared over the past few hundred years, but now, in the sky that Veris sees, the shadows of stars can be faintly seen flashing by in the places where the seven main stars once stood.
Before Arnold became a hero, the god Yannis awakened, bewitching many magical beasts in the Amber Mountains and inciting them to go mad and rampage. The location of the Eye of the God was really hard to find. It was better to strike first than to rely on passing mercenaries or villagers to appear.
As expected, a boy, driven by the monsters, fled in panic into the depths of the Amberley Mountains.
However, before Yannis and his contract, the Hero Star shone brightly, and a new generation of heroes emerged.
When Veris returned to Albion, it was already completely dark, but Albion was unusually lively that night. Perhaps it was the arrival of a large, unfamiliar caravan, or perhaps it was the priests and others from the Mercury Church. The whole town was lit up, the streets were as bright as day, vendors set up their stalls, and residents and travelers strolled along the streets, stopping from time to time for something new and interesting.
The poet blended into the crowd and went unnoticed.
He first went back to the attic to get a harp, and then went to Martin's Tavern, as usual, through the side door.
Inside, it was as lively as ever, packed with people, with no seats available. Boss Martin moved through the dark crowd, serving customers good wine and food. The kitchen was bustling with activity, and the same young waiter at the counter was busy calculating bills for customers.
But Boss Martin spotted Veris wandering in immediately. He turned around and rushed to Veris's side. The tavern was noisy, so he raised his voice: "Veris, you almost arrived late!"
"Ah, it's not here yet, is it?" Veris glanced into the tavern, his gaze lingering. He seemed to have spotted two young men again.
However, after the previous few times, he was able to ignore these two people with a blank expression.
As usual, he sat down in the high chair and plucked the strings a few times. The clear and beautiful sound echoed throughout the tavern. He was very satisfied with this harp that had been with him for at least three years. The cork body felt great to play and was lightweight. Most importantly, after all these years, it still sounded as good as new.
With the view rising higher, the entire scene inside the tavern came into view. Veris simply glanced at it as usual before starting his work for the night.
In a tavern, everyone's presence is justified, since everyone has a appetite.
He held the harp with his well-defined knuckles, and a smile appeared on his face.
Arnold was really looking forward to Veris's performance tonight. After all, he had only heard Veris sing hymns once before, and it was a very serious story. In his imagination, Veris would probably sing a story similar to the Seven Gods or the Imperial Legion annihilating the ninth-tier magical beasts.
This time he arrived at the tavern early and chose a spot close to Veris. Although there were too many people around, he observed that there were actually just as many people in the entire tavern, so he simply gave up the idea of changing his spot.
Having spent a long time in the Mercenary Association, he no longer felt uncomfortable about close contact with people.
The boy looked expectantly at the bard on the high chair. If he weren't illiterate, he would have loved to bring paper and pen to record all the important information in Veris's story.
It's alright, his memory is excellent too. Arnold encouraged himself.
Veris had already begun the first part of the story, using the familiar setup. Arnold listened attentively for a moment and was excited to discover that Veris was going to talk about His Holiness the Pope today.
He had read several stories about popes in the pastor's handbook, and each one of them fascinated him. The pope was the person he respected the most!
Will Veris tell the story of the Pope killing God with his bare hands, or the story of establishing the Orlando Church?
"The horns of Magrey goats, ground into powder, mixed with freshly sifted wheat flour and added to a soup pot, with a few sprigs of rosemary added, is the Pope's favorite lunch—"
Arnold: ? ? ?
What is this person saying?
Alan, who was next to Veris, kept his head down and ate his food, refusing to make eye contact with him and silently ignoring the sounds around him.
However, the goat horn wheat and rosemary noodle soup was just an appetizer. Next, Arnold listened to Veris announce the names of the dishes in a daze.
Including—deep-sea octopus tentacles mixed with rosemary, bat brains from a sixth-tier magical beast wall soaked in wine, scales of a tailless mermaid ground into powder and mixed with jam to spread on bread, and firebird eyeballs roasted until half-cooked and sprinkled with salt...
The pope's glorious image has almost degenerated into that of a pica patient who eats bizarre and unusual foods.
Veris went on to describe the texture and taste of the food with great seriousness, saying that the octopus tentacles would bounce in your mouth when eaten raw, and that the eyeballs would burst with juice when half-cooked. If the food wasn't these things, then he would be a fairly qualified food critic.
But there are no "what ifs".
Inside the tavern, some of the people drinking and eating gradually slowed down. Veris's music was exceptionally cheerful; if you didn't listen carefully, you might think it was a comedy.
The residents of Albion, however, were unfazed and called out to Boss Martin for another bowl.
A note from the author:
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I've revised the summary.
Replaced with the main content of the chapter
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