TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 23

Staring at the crystal pillar in front of him, its brilliance now faded, Albin stubbornly tried again, but still saw nothing but the blinding white light.

Was there really a problem?

Perhaps he should wait until they reach the next temple to test it again.

The Kingdom of Lush Grass mostly worshipped the God of Wine, and they had passed several temples dedicated to him without entering. However, this kingdom had a variety of beliefs, so perhaps the next city would worship a different deity.

As for the possibility that the magical crystal had malfunctioned, it might be better to inform Mr. Knight.

He turned back and headed to the temple. At that moment, the ceremonial hall was distributing free lunches. Every Sunday at noon, the Sun God Temple held such an event to demonstrate the benevolence of the Sun God.

Mr. Knight was busy, so Albin approached quietly and whispered, “Mr. Knight, it seems the magical crystal is malfunctioning. The color is off. Perhaps you could check it later.”

The knight hurriedly nodded, “Alright, we’ll have someone check it soon.”

Only then did Albin leave the temple.

After the midday ceremony ended, the knight remembered Albin’s warning and informed the high priest in charge of the temple. The magical crystals were always managed personally by the high priest.

The high priest was puzzled. All the crystal clusters in the Sun God Temple had been consecrated by the Pope, and they shouldn’t have any issues. They weren’t easy to damage either.

However, for caution’s sake, he decided to inspect it with the knight.

The two of them tested the crystals and found everything normal. The properties and color of the crystals matched their past records.

The high priest stroked his beard and sighed, “It’s probably just a child’s prank.”

The knight hesitated. He didn’t think Albin was the kind of mischievous child.

“The child said the color was wrong. Could you check the color when he tested it, High Priest?”

The high priest thought for a moment, then chanted a spell to check the historical usage records of the magical crystal.

In an instant, the crystal blazed with a brilliant white light, swallowing the astonished expressions of both the high priest and the knight.

“White light! All twelve crystal pillars are glowing with white light!”

When the light faded, the high priest paced back and forth, his voice trembling, “This can’t be wrong! The light is so intense that only all twelve crystal pillars could produce such brilliance.”

“The last time the crystals glowed this brightly was when His Highness Saint Zeman tested them. This is a top-tier, all-element magical talent!”

“Such a talent would be sought after by any temple!” The high priest suddenly turned to the knight. “Whose child is that? What do they look like? Quickly, bring them to the temple! With the old pope gone, His Highness Zeman will soon become the new pope. The position of Saint is vacant, and perhaps that child is the next Saint! We cannot let other temples get to them first.”

Even if the child wasn’t a Saint, such a talent would surely become a high-ranking priest if properly trained.

The knight looked troubled. “But that child… seems to be a traveler.”

–

Albin stepped out of the temple, rubbing his eyes. The white light had dazzled him twice, and now it felt like there were tiny black spots in his vision.

Maybe the crystal could be used as a flash-bang grenade.

He ran into Zeman’s arms at the door and asked, “Dad, when are we leaving for the next city?”

He wanted to test the crystal again at another temple, but he hadn’t told his father about the earlier events.

If his father knew that he was testing for a chance to become a Saint, he would probably be very angry.

“You want to go to the next city already?” Zeman, who had thought Albin would stay longer, replied, “Let’s go ask the merchant guild.”

“Great!” Albin happily took his father’s hand. “We can deliver gifts to Uncle’s place!”

Zeman also took the clothes they had bought earlier. He had planned to leave them at the store if they were going to shop more, but since they were leaving, he decided to take them along.

Before they left the square, Zeman glanced back at the statue of the Sun God.

The statue was elegant and majestic, its gaze one of pity and determination. But in Zeman’s mind, the image was that of the Sun God who cursed and hated him.

The Sun God didn’t have the regenerative powers of the God of Wine, but he did have control over fire, and the scriptures claimed he could control all flames.

When Zeman burned the body of the old pope with fire, the Sun God initially paid no attention, even admonishing him from his high position, like a master educating a servant.

But when the Sun God realized he couldn’t control Zeman’s flames, his gaze instantly became terrifying.

It was no longer the gaze of a deity looking at a follower, a vessel, or a servant, but the wary, defensive gaze of a high deity threatened by a challenger, enraged by being humiliated.

At that moment, the Sun God saw Zeman as an enemy to be killed—no retreat, no surrender.

In the end, Zeman won. He burned the Sun God’s vessel—the old pope—completely to ashes, along with the Sun God’s divine body, but he was also cursed by the Sun God before his death.

Zeman withdrew his gaze and, with Albin, headed to the Merchant Guild. The coachmen had arrived earlier and were drinking at the guild’s tavern with their colleagues. Albin ran over to thank them, clutching his little gift.

Zeman walked up to the bar and spoke with the guild manager, wrapping up a previous commission and placing a new one.

“There’s a merchant heading south to the next city…” the manager said, checking the information. “A bookseller is leaving soon. He’s having a meal now, and once he’s done, he’ll leave.”

He pointed to a table behind Zeman. “Or you could wait a few days. Some other merchants are still making transactions. Once they’re done, they’ll head out.”

The merchant caravan from the Lush Grass Kingdom was gradually arriving. Some would rest for the winter after selling their goods, while others would head south to warmer lands.

Zeman turned and saw that Albin was already chatting with the merchant at the table the manager had pointed to.

Albin, cheerful and well-behaved, was asking the well-traveled merchants about their experiences.

“Oh, oh, oh! Uncle, you’re a bookseller? That means you’ve read so many books! You must be super knowledgeable! That’s amazing!”

“Hahaha, the little guy knows how to flatter.” The bookseller laughed and pushed some snacks toward Albin.

“But I didn’t realize selling books meant traveling so much. It must be really hard,” Albin said, as he had never considered that before. “Do many people buy books?”

“Well, not really,” the bookseller replied. “Only a limited number of people can read. I mostly take commissions from nobles or priests, helping them find the books they want. Sometimes I bring popular northern books south, like cookbooks and travel diaries, which sell quite well among the city dwellers.”

“Eh? Don’t schools teach people to read?” Albin asked, confused.

It was normal for him, as a child, not to know how to read, but why didn’t the adults know?

The bookseller sighed, “Priests and nobles have received good education. Some big cities have religious schools that teach basic reading, writing, arithmetic, and religious knowledge, but usually, only children from wealthy families can attend. The common folk don’t receive much education. As long as they can count the money for buying food, that’s enough. Many people can’t even write their own names.”

Albin couldn’t understand how the temple and nobility monopolized education like that.

He made a note of it in his little mental notebook.

He continued eagerly, “What are the southern cities like?”

After chatting, the manager approached and talked to the bookseller about a commission, asking if he would be willing to take Zeman and Albin to the next city.

When the bookseller learned that Albin needed to travel, he readily agreed.

Before leaving, the Merchant Guild gave them some information that Albin had been curious about.

The Temple of the God of Wine had not publicly announced the monster attack, and the disappearance of Priest Latu hadn’t raised any suspicions. Latu had often disappeared for short periods, so the temple only said he had gone out.

Due to the high priest’s disappearance, the temple hadn’t yet developed a new method for selecting the next Saint or Saintess, and they were short-handed. Margo, who had magical talent, had become an apprentice priest and brought her mother into the city.

The abusive father of the two daughters was taken away by the constables and punished by the guild.

Other news came through, and Albin was satisfied as they set off again.

However, not long after they left, the Sun God Temple issued an order to close the city gates.

But the people they were looking for had already left the city.

The carriage was filled with books. Zeman bought a travel diary from the bookseller to help Albin learn to read.

Aside from learning to read, Albin didn’t sit in the carriage all day. He often got out and walked along with the slow-moving carriage, with Zeman accompanying him.

When Albin got tired, he would stretch out his arms, and Zeman would pick him up and place him back in the carriage.

In the evening, they entered a village. There were many crows perched on the trees at the village entrance, and before entering, they saw a burned and abandoned small castle that looked quite eerie.

There was a simple tavern in the village where they decided to stay the night.

At this time, the tavern was bustling with customers. The owner was busy serving familiar regulars and didn’t even notice the three of them entering, nor did anyone give them a second glance.

It wasn’t until the bookseller patted the owner on the shoulder and ordered three set meals that the owner seemed to just notice them. His previous warmth immediately turned into a neutral expression, and he nodded without saying anything.

Albin had been active all day, running and walking, and his energy was completely drained. He yawned repeatedly and, once seated, his head drooped as if it were pecking like a little chick.

He held his spoon but seemed to have fallen asleep, completely forgetting to eat.

Zeman tried feeding him a spoonful of creamy stew. Although Albin had his eyes closed, he sleepily opened his mouth, obediently eating every bite, finishing it all cleanly.

The bookseller watched with a knowing smile.

After eating six or seven bites like this, Albin gradually woke up, realizing what had happened. He took the bowl with bread crumbs soaking in it, scraped it with his spoon, and drank it all up with a satisfying “glug,” leaving a little bit of cream on his chin.

“I’m done!” He proudly held the bowl up to Zeman, showing him that it was completely empty.

He had a good habit—he always finished everything in his bowl.

Zeman patted his head in approval, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. Albin chuckled, then, once finished, lazily laid down, resting his head on Zeman’s lap, his soft, white hair spreading out.

Zeman remained composed, eating his meal with proper etiquette.

Just by observing his mannerisms, the bookseller, who often interacted with nobles and priests, thought Zeman’s status was likely not ordinary.

Albin had just finished his meal and was feeling a bit bored. One hand slyly reached over the table, moving like Jerry the mouse trying to steal some cheese. He slid around the table until he found a piece of goat cheese from the set meal. “Whoosh!” he snatched it up as a little after-dinner snack.

He broke off a piece and tasted it. Finding it delicious, he broke off another piece and, holding it up, offered it to Zeman.

Zeman, looking down at the cheese suddenly thrust toward his mouth, glanced at Albin’s sparkling crimson eyes, filled with a mischievous innocence. With a sigh of helplessness, he bent his head and bit into the cheese.

Zeman scooped up a piece of sausage and purposefully lowered it. Albin, like a little fish doing sit-ups, jumped up with a swift “woof!” and grabbed it.

It was a pleasant father-son moment, but Zeman furrowed his brow slightly and glanced around.

The regulars around them were still chatting amongst themselves, not paying any attention to the trio.

Yet, Zeman felt as though someone was watching him and Albin. The gaze was scattered, almost omnipresent, and impossible to pinpoint.

His heart tensed. Ever since entering this village, he had felt something was off.

Albin, oblivious to the strange glances, slid off the chair in a “twist” and crouched down, curiously observing the other patrons.

He found a table of customers who had almost finished their meal. He approached them, asking, “Uncle, what’s good to eat around here?”

But these people acted as if they hadn’t seen him. Not a single one of them even changed their expression.

“Uncle?” Albin called again, but no one responded.

He walked away in frustration and spotted the tavern owner’s son drawing on the ground with a stone. He crouched down and asked, “What are you drawing? Do you want some cheese? Are there any sheep around here?”

But even the boy seemed not to notice him, continuing with his drawing without a reaction.

Albin paused, feeling a creeping unease. He quickly ran over to Zeman.

“Daddy, can you still see me?”

“Of course I can.”

Albin breathed a sigh of relief.

Everything about the people in this village felt strange, like NPCs from a game.

He didn’t feel like playing anymore. After finishing his meal, he went to wash up and went to bed early.

After Zeman had coaxed him to sleep, he stepped out of the tavern, attempting to strike up a conversation with a passerby.

However, his attempts at casual conversation were completely ignored. Even when he grabbed someone by the neck, releasing a hint of killing intent, there was no fear or anger in their eyes. They merely looked at him blankly, like the tavern owner.

These people didn’t seem like living beings at all, but rather puppets controlled by some force, programmed with fixed responses. Anything outside of the usual pattern received no reaction.

Thinking back to the strange glances at dinner, Zeman confirmed that someone was watching them from behind the scenes.

He used dark magic to sever one of the puppet’s arms, but the person showed no reaction. The severed limb simply turned into a charred, lifeless piece of flesh.

It was a burned corpse.

His pupils contracted. He quickly struck at the walls and ground in several places.

Each time, the spots he struck revealed scorched, burned marks.

After testing several locations in the village, he confirmed that this village had likely been destroyed long ago. Someone had used an illusion to make the village appear normal.

However, near this “peaceful” village, only one building remained in its original, burned state.

That was the ruined castle.

Zeman immediately went to investigate.

The stone walls of the castle were charred. The upper half had collapsed, leaving only a portion intact.

Entering the hall, he saw a finely crafted black coffin, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the ruins.

Different cults had different ways of handling death. The Sun God Temple advocated for purification by fire, believing that followers should be cremated after death to cleanse their sins before their souls ascended to serve the Sun God. The Sea God Temple preferred sea burials, the Love God Temple advocated flower burials, and the Shepherd God Temple practiced animal burials…

But a coffin, a form of burial that preserved the body intact, seemed to belong to the Night God Temple’s tradition.

As Zeman approached, the coffin was suddenly opened from the inside.

A pale-skinned, beautiful young man, appearing to be under twenty, sat up in the coffin. His disheveled black hair suggested he had just woken up from sleep, his eyes still sleepy. He turned his expressionless face toward Zeman, his luxurious violet eyes half-lidded, looking at him lazily.

His clear, silver-like voice rang out, almost like a question: “Are you and that child… father and son?”

That white-haired child seemed so familiar to him.

So familiar, in fact, that he had a strange feeling that the one who should be by the child’s side was him, not the man before him.

Zeman paused, shocked. He never expected that the person behind all this would be concerned with something so peculiar.

However, he soon noticed the faint hostility emanating from the person, though it was hard to pinpoint its origin.

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