Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 253 - 236: Lost Family Member
Following the merchant caravan through those magnificent city walls, Lyle felt the grandeur of human civilization and the reverence for saintly light. The walls of the holy city of Lokarot were pure white, the hard marble structure coated with layer upon layer of white wax, visible from a great distance. As it came into view on the horizon, you could see the white high walls rising with the sun.
Lokarot City was fully open during the time of the Saint Light Ceremony, though this "openness" was only applicable to humans. Armored Paladins streamed through the city gates like schools of fish entering the city. Lyle, using Gold Coins, had disguised himself as a nobleman interested in the Saint Light, and legally speaking, he was indeed of noble birth, assuming the Naslan Family had not been declared extinct.
Peering through the carriage window, Lyle took in the city. It was clean, tidy. The residents here had a fondness for white—the houses were white, the clothes were white. Walking along the streets, combined with the smiles on their faces, there truly was an aura of the holy city.
The owner of the caravan was a resin merchant named Hans, an enthusiastic individual, not excluding the additional influence of Lyle’s Gold Coins. He would bring a large amount of water white resin to this city for every Saint Light Ceremony, sometimes even bankrupting himself to gather the materials, certain that he would make a fortune. Businesses associated with religion or faith always carry a lot of added value. Water white resin was even a necessity in Lokarot during the Saint Light Ceremony, when the people would clean their city and reapply a layer of the pristine resin or white wax. The Saint Light Ceremony was the most important festival here.
Hans dropped Lyle off at the front entrance of an inn, one he recommended for its reasonable prices and excellent service. If it were not for the absence of goods storage services, Hans would have been glad to keep company with his generous old friend, Bennisa. Bennisa was the alias Lyle had invented for this occasion.
This inn named Lion King’s Pride was clean and beautiful but lacked the flowers and plants of the Tequila Bar, missing some liveliness, hence appearing quite formal, almost like the public order office in Cassandra.
There was also a peculiar feature of Lokarot’s architecture: their buildings preserved a ring of limestone steps about twenty centimeters high at the edges. On the utmost periphery of the buildings, there was a continuous layer, not even omitting the doors, which therefore could only open inwards. The threshold seemed inconvenient to Lyle; guests could easily trip, and its corners would often harbor dust difficult to clean. Despite this, every household in Lokarot had such "little walls."
The owner of Lion King’s Pride was a robust middle-aged man, his stature and mannerisms suggesting he might have once been a soldier, perhaps one whose knee took an arrow. He welcomed Lyle with a smile and prepared what he called the best room for him.
Sitting in the clean, almost barren room, and upon opening the windows, Lyle understood what he meant.
Right across the window was a beautiful church, its white marble perfectly fitted together, stained-glass windows depicting angels. Behind the wings of these celestial beings, the pure voices of the choir with their holy songs came drifting on the warm breeze to Lyle’s ears. At the pinnacle of the church, a holy cross emitted a gentle glow, the kind of light that could render the abstract feeling of happiness tangible.
The choir’s sacred song drew to an end. Under the gentle smiling gaze of the priest, young nuns, after taking their bows, left the place in small groups. Among them was also included an ironclad figure—several young nuns followed in her wake.
"Sister Karen, you sing so beautifully, come back and join us as a nun,"
Karen shook her helmet, creating a creaking noise.
"No, I want to be a Paladin. Being a nun is too weak, and you can’t swing a hammer."
"But, Sister Karen, you started in the choir, and you were a nun at first."
"I don’t want to be a nun anymore, Father has bequeathed the path of the Paladin to me, and I will honor his will!" 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶
A young nun looked at Karen’s armored figure.
"Sister Karen, my sister told me that Paladins undergo harsh training and their breasts stop developing, turning into hard muscles."
With a clank, Karen turned her head, looking at the young nun, "... Your sister must be lying! I don’t believe it! I’m going home now, and I won’t help you fill numbers for rehearsal ever again!"
In a cluster of buildings a hundred meters from the church, a man sat in his study, engrossed in a book. His features were strong, sharply defined, his brown hair flecked with grey, but this aging did not detract from his aura, like a bottle of wine that has settled for a long time, exuding a mature uncle’s charm, often attracting young girls. His name was Dolanko Pembai, a Paladin, with a daughter named Karen.
Taking a deep breath, Dolanko’s face showed hints of dejection, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the book. He sat with his back to the window, the light pouring onto his broad back.
"You should have used the door; it isn’t locked," sunlight cast his shadow onto Dolanko’s back, hiding his clenched lips within it.
A graceful figure touched down and walked in silently.
"Ever since Karen returned in that nun’s attire, I knew this day would come eventually, my sister... Aryan Pembai."
Aryan folded her arms, staring at the familiar back she remembered.
"How did you know it was me?"
Dolanko turned his head, glaring at that hazy, dreamlike silhouette,
"Your habit of not using the door hasn’t changed, and you’ve never had a good grasp of your own weight."
"I’m quite light now."
"Not light enough for me not to notice," Dolanko watched as Aryan paced to the bookshelf, searching over it, "you’ve come to take revenge, haven’t you."
"Are you implicated in my death?"
"I permitted you to go to Dulai. It was only after you died that I discovered what happened to you...," Dolanko closed his eyes, resignedly awaiting his fate.
"So, the great fire that happened afterward in Dulai, the Lord’s death, was that your doing?"
"Every Paladin has their own code; the path of righteousness we follow varies from one to another. I would not act to harm others for my personal gain, but I will execute the justice I believe in..."
"Yes or no?" Aryan’s tone grew heavier, his voice laced with coldness.
"It was me. I strangled him and set fire to his house."
Aryan walked up to him and extended his knuckle to cradle Dolanko’s cheek, opening the silver knight’s helmet visor to meet his brother’s eyes with his soul fire.
"Thank you, brother."
At this call, the stern-looking strong man couldn’t hold back any longer, and tears shamelessly streamed down.
"Why are you crying, Dolanko?"
"Because you’re going to leave, right? A ghost who’s lost its obsession with vengeance will dissipate, won’t it?"
The warmth in Aryan’s heart vanished. "Dolanko, stop reading Paladin stories from now on and use your brain. Karen is just as stubborn and stupid as you are now. I won’t disappear," Aryan scrutinized his brother, having always thought his brother was no different from a water buffalo; marriage hadn’t changed him at all.
"Dolanko, then you have committed murder, what is the punishment?"
"I was driven out of the Crusaders, my path to advancement broken, now serving as a Lord in our hometown."
"You also let Karen change to Paladin studies."
"Of course, at least she can fight back when she’s bullied."
"You even let her read your Paladin novels, and now Karen is just a little dummy, exactly another you. Do you realize how much time I’ve spent correcting her mistakes? That should have been your job."
"What’s wrong with that? An aunt teaching her niece is only natural."
Aryan clapped his hands together, "Exactly, that’s why I’m here, to meet with Karen. During our interactions, I concealed my identity, and to get closer, I’ve concocted a few lies about Aryan’s childhood. To keep my cover intact, let’s get our story straight."
"Fine, tell me."
"When you were eight years old, you got caught by our father stealing bird eggs from a tree. The punishment was, you were spanked fifty times by your own sister."
"Aryan! That was definitely you! Climbing the tree and getting spanked—that’s your story! How does that even make sense? Me, being spanked by my sister? If Karen believed that, I’d believe in ghosts!"
Aryan watched his brother, his expression stoic.
"Karen believed it, and she even asked me to share more embarrassing stories from your childhood."
"......"
Dolanko’s response to the answer was one of utter collapse.
Two hours later, Miss Karen knocked on the door.
"Karen, come here." Dolanko’s expression was gentle, with a smile.
"What is it, Father... Father!! I’m sorry!! Please, spare me!! My ears!! My ears!!!"
"What did you do wrong?"
"I... I don’t know."
"You infuriate me! You wretched girl!"
"Stop twisting! Father! It hurts!! I really did something wrong!!"
"What did you do wrong?"
"Wuwuwu, just keep twisting."
