BUEC 24

chapter 24

Chief Cleric Carbon led Grey away immediately. The strange thing was that his displeasure wasn’t directed solely at Yulian. He also offered only a slight nod, rather than full courtesy, to the Vicar—the temple’s leader—before turning his back.

Although the other man appeared much older, in a temple where hierarchy was dictated purely by divine power, this was a rather unusual display.

“Are those two really father and son? They don’t look alike at all.”

“…….”

“Vicar?”

Whether he heard her or not, the Vicar stared at the pair’s backs for some time with a stern expression. Only when Yulian called again did he snap his head up and assume a polite, ceremonial expression.

“It’s about time for breakfast. You’ve been walking a long time this morning, so please head to the dining hall. I have business to attend to.”

“Ah? Uh… okay.”

Yulian still had questions for the Vicar, but his expression was too intimidating to stop him. Tall and long-legged, he disappeared at an unnatural speed after bowing—a speed that seemed almost as if he folded the ground beneath him.

“But… you didn’t tell me where the dining hall is.”

Unfortunately, there was no one to answer her weary complaint.

The path to the dining hall led through a small garden. Wandering there with unease, Yulian soon recognized a familiar back from afar.

Even in the baggy, shabby uniform provided by the temple, a knight’s broad physique could not be concealed. His hair, kept short as usual, had that subtly rough texture which, when brushed, gave a strangely addictive allure. That captivating back belonged unmistakably to Sol.

Yulian swallowed hard and crept closer, keeping her footsteps light. Ever since Sol began knight training and cut his hair short, she had developed the habit of playing with the back of his head. Knowing this, Sol would always let her touch it until she tired of it after a haircut.

After three years apart, Yulian found her hand itching to reach out.

‘Shall I touch it after such a long time?’

It wasn’t selfishness—just an investigative action for the greater good. Moreover, touching him yesterday had made his mark glow. This was for both of them.

However, perhaps sensing Yulian’s eerie approach, Sol suddenly stopped mid-stride. When he turned to look at her, Yulian panicked and quickly hid her hand behind her back.

“W-what’s wrong? I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Yul… wait a moment.”

Though so close to him, he wasn’t surprised. He simply blocked her path and guided her toward the wall.

Not far from them, a large, ornate carriage arrived at the temple’s south gate. The holy knights guarding the temple stopped the carriage and helped the visitor disembark.

“That carriage is…”

From the carriage emerged a noble administrator wearing a hat adorned with the Duke’s crest. Yulian felt that face vaguely familiar. Though not personally known, she had seen it a few times before—perhaps in Latem. While the carriage bore no noble family emblem, careful inspection revealed areas painted with the gold paint reserved for the imperial family.

Yulian quickly deduced who had sent the carriage.

“I am the Emperor of Latem’s envoy.”

Of course. Yulian clicked her tongue and pressed herself closer to the wall, making herself invisible. As an exiled criminal from Latem, she feared that if word reached the emperor, he might intend her harm.

“The Emperor sent this as a token of goodwill for the temple, despite his son’s shortcomings. Please use it for the temple’s benefit.”

But it was all show. The administrator dramatically opened the carriage door to reveal glittering gold and jewels. Given that the recipient was a criminal capable of causing catastrophic events, it was understandable the Emperor was anxious. Better to give a fortune in gold than risk public scandal.

“Are you saying this donation is because of the sinner’s mark?”

“How irreverent, trying to solve everything with money.”

The holy knights were astonished by the carriage full of treasure and simultaneously taken aback. They lived and died by honor. The secular attitude of the Latem Emperor—throwing money at a temple to smooth over a criminal marked by the prophecy—was not only inappropriate but repulsive to them.

“Thank you for the donation, but this won’t resolve the matter.”

“Well, perhaps it may help the starving across the continent and partially atone for the Crown Prince’s actions.”

“Ha, the knights of the temple are quite impatient, it seems.”

Despite the open disregard, the administrator remained composed. Adjusting his monocle, he snapped his fingers, producing a clear sound.

“Surely, a token of this magnitude is proper courtesy.”

At his signal, more carriages appeared in sequence—seven in total, each brimming with sparkling treasures. The holy knights were stunned; they could not have imagined such a scale of donation. It was far too substantial to ignore.

Following the Crown Prince, an immense procession of donations continued. Even donations from Angela’s family, the Reagan Counts, and the mage tower were enough to overwhelm the novice clerics trying to organize them. Watching the arrival of the Duke of Baph’s carriage, Yulian narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue.

“Can money really solve this?”

She found such ostentatious donations distasteful. Even if she had the money, she wouldn’t offer it—after all, if God forgave sin for a price, she wouldn’t believe in Him.

“The money doesn’t go to God. It goes to the temple.”

“That’s correct.”

Watching the growing piles of gold and treasures in the temple courtyard, Yulian muttered, and someone replied. She felt a shadow fall over her face. The Vicar had silently approached, standing behind her with hands clasped.

“Donating to the temple does not absolve sin—and it never should. Not now, not ever. Many do not realize this, and that is unfortunate.”

“Then why do the other clerics seem so excited?”

“Well, naturally, they are pleased. Divine power does not prevent hunger, and silk is always preferable to cotton.”

Yulian reluctantly nodded. True, even if the holy knights worked without pay, not everyone lived purely by the temple’s ideals. Even the Vicar had pragmatic sides.

“I’ve thought from the start—you’re remarkably honest, Vicar.”

“Indeed. Donations to the temple are used not just for the clergy’s sustenance, but also for various charitable works. This likely has little to do with the prophecy, but Mr. Anderson may contribute if he wishes.”

“Do you know what a teacher’s salary is? Might as well take a flea’s liver instead.”

Before receiving her first post-independence salary, Yulian had dreamed of saving carefully, living frugally but without poverty. Her savings over the past three years were nothing compared to the gold before her now. Yet without even that modest money, she would be in deep trouble.

Yulian turned her empty pockets inside out. The Vicar quietly observed her.

“Why? I really have nothing.”

“Then what about that?”

He pointed to a nearby carriage—the Duke of Baph’s, still delivering donations. The driver, face buried in his robe, announced:

“This carriage contains donations brought in the name of Lady Yulian Baph. This one holds cash and magical stones; the next carries jewels and silk…”