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chapter 35
“Ah, my. In the temple, there are occasionally people whose faith is so intense that they act out unexpectedly.”
“Occasionally? Occa—sionally? Hah!”
Yurian was left speechless at Grey’s shamelessly casual remark. She expressed her disbelief with a variety of scoffs and snorts—ha, heh, hi, hoo—each more ridiculous than the last. Grey, watching her like an amused puppy, only smiled more deeply. With his usual gentle expression, he coaxed and soothed her.
“To prevent this from happening a second time, I will ask the Deputy to mention it during the morning service. Until then, may we protect you?”
“You’ve done enough protecting. Just let me hide somewhere quiet until it calms down.”
“As you wish.”
In truth, the priests’ rudeness wasn’t really his fault, but if she pressed further, she’d end up looking petty. Yurian felt a mix of relief and exhaustion, letting out a deep sigh as she slumped against the nearby wall. Running—something she didn’t usually do—had left her legs sore.
‘Ouch, my legs. No wonder I hate exercising.’
Tap. Tap. Tap. Yurian lightly tapped her sore legs with the relic she held. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. The rhythmic sound echoed throughout the room. In response, the paladins’ shoulders twitched.
‘Huh?’
Yurian, absorbed in her own meditation while furrowing her brow, became aware of the whispers around her. Well, maybe “whispers” was an exaggeration—it was more like the paladins were imitating hushed conversations, curious about her actions.
“Is that the relic? But why is she hitting herself with it?”
“An act of penance? Is it penance?! She’s already repented and received forgiveness from the gods, but she’s still unsatisfied and walking the path of self-mortification?!”
“Wow, I’m jealous! I want to do penance with a relic too!”
What nonsense. Yurian listened to the paladins’ chatter, bewildered at their utterly different way of thinking.
The paladins seemed as fascinated by relics as the priests she had met outside. At least, Grey, a paladin himself, stood nearby, glaring sharply, so no one dared approach recklessly.
‘Well, this is my first time seeing someone wield a relic.’
Yurian wasn’t unreasonable or mean-spirited. Normally, she might have shown them properly just to discourage their curious gazes, but the more she thought about it, the more irritating they seemed.
When called a sinner by the oracle, people had treated her with disgust, as if she were a cockroach. And now, they looked so innocent and kind. Yurian was not a saint. She was just a normal person—petty and holding grudges.
‘Ah, that one—’
Her eyes landed on a man. He was a paladin who had used his body as a shield to protect the sinners when fanatics stormed the temple. Beside him were others she recognized: the one who had been beaten by Sol when they were caught by the knights, and the one scolded by Bilrod for complaining about the poor lodging.
‘…’
The paladins hadn’t been rude to her personally, nor had they done anything wrong. They simply carried out their duties diligently. Their curiosity about the relics wasn’t selfish—just a pure, simple wish born of deep faith.
Receiving all the paladins’ intense gazes, Yurian finally surrendered.
“Sir Grey Carbon, is there a break soon?”
“There isn’t a scheduled break. Why do you ask?”
“This… fanatical… ah, never mind. Then may I borrow the paladins’ attention for a moment?”
Grey glanced at the curious paladins and nodded. With his permission, Yurian cleared her throat, raised her hand, and called out:
“Those who want to see the relic, gather here! Note: after this, I won’t answer personal questions about it!”
The paladins, hesitant at first, rushed forward at the chance to see the relic up close. Every one of them came. Their eagerness at the mere mention of a relic was like Pavlov’s dogs—so simple, it was either cute or frightening.
“Alright, the first and second rows, please sit since those in the back can’t see.”
“Yes!”
“Good, loud responses. Now, shall we sit comfortably without kneeling?”
The paladins obeyed. They sat down, clasped their arms over their knees so as not to bother others, compressing their large frames with an almost sacred self-sacrifice.
“Here we go! Regarding the relic—!”
Yurian cleared her throat and held the relic with both hands. Though it was merely a bamboo stick, the paladins fixed their sparkling eyes on it, nodding in response as she explained its use.
“This is how the Penitence Rod helps sinners repent in both body and spirit. Any questions so far?”
“So, it’s used to beat sinners as punishment?”
“Not exactly, but yes, in a way.”
One paladin raised a hand. Yurian hesitated, feeling the weight of their eager eyes. If she betrayed their expectations, it would feel wrong. But really, a rod wasn’t meant for music; it was for guiding repentance.
“But if Miss Anderson swings it, won’t it just tire her arm without hurting much? May I accompany her and strike instead?”
“Oh, unfair! I can hit harder!”
“No, I can! I won last year’s arm-wrestling championship!”
Of course, with fanatics like this, what did she expect? Before Yurian could respond, the paladins began arguing among themselves—“I’ll lose, no you’ll lose”—like a group of rowdy kids. The solemnity, dignity, and austerity of their first appearance had vanished.
Yurian rubbed her throbbing forehead and called, “Three claps, start!” The paladins stopped arguing instantly, returning their attention to her. She calmly rejected all their offers.
“There’s no need to hit hard. If the intention were to correct sinners with punishment, a stronger rod would have been used. Repentance isn’t about fear—it’s about understanding.”
“But! Still! God’s will!”
“Using violence to enforce obedience is how you tame livestock, not people. Even if the gods desired it, I refuse.”
Even Bilrod proved this. Though he was beaten with the Penitence Rod, he still fled. Violence might temporarily silence someone or make them appear penitent, but it never solves the root problem.
Yurian’s words silenced the room. Paladins’ gazes drifted to the space behind her, sending a chill down her spine. Narrowing her eyes in alert, she turned to meet Grey’s gaze. He smiled faintly, his eyes narrowing.
‘What’s that about?’
It was the same hollow smile as always, but something felt off. Normally artificial, today it carried not a shred of warmth. This man was clearly displeased.
