The New Church of Frand Port
Translator: Cinder Translations
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Paul spent the entire morning visiting the weaving mill. At ten o'clock in the afternoon, he declined the factory owner's invitation to stay longer and took Ladia back to the city hall, while Sevya bid them farewell and returned alone to the alchemy shop.
On the way, Paul asked Ladia, "Did you really spend the whole night investigating that shop?"
Ladia nodded and replied, "Yes, otherwise, how could I dare let you in?"
"Thank you for your hard work."
"It's what I should do. However, Lord Grayman, I must remind you to be cautious of the church's threat and to be fully prepared for the possibility of them discovering you sheltering spellcasters."
"Hmm, I understand that. But you can rest assured, according to the long-standing traditions of the Northwest Bay, history has deemed wizards to be harmless. As long as they haven't done anything that truly harms society, they are usually just imprisoned and not executed on the stake without reason."
Inwardly, Ladia thought, Actually, I'm more worried about you.
Since the establishment of the Customs Union, Paul had gradually taken a leading position among the lords of the Northwest Bay. If he were discovered doing something disreputable, it would inevitably affect his status.
"Hey, there's the new church of Frand Port up ahead!"
Ladia was lost in thought when Paul suddenly exclaimed.
"Speaking of which, we first met in the church of Frand Port. You even gave me a hint back then, haha."
A nostalgic look appeared on Paul's face, but the church he mentioned was not the one in front of them. The church where they had first met had been converted into the city hall since it was located in the center of town, and the current church had only been built shortly thereafter.
Ladia smiled, thinking how strange fate could be. Who would have thought that what seemed like an ordinary adventure years ago would turn out to be a significant turning point in her life?
Paul pointed at the building ahead. "I haven't been inside this church yet; shall we go in and take a look?"
"Sure, Lord Grayman."
So the two of them, along with a number of attendants, climbed the steps and walked through the church's entrance.
"It really is magnificent," Paul remarked.
The interior of the church was dominated by a golden hue, with a majestic dome soaring overhead, walls adorned with exquisite murals, and sculptures dotted throughout the side corridors.
In the western part of the hall stood a huge stone sculpture of flames, symbolizing the relic of the Lord of Light. A group of people knelt around the sculpture, murmuring prayers, creating an atmosphere of sanctity.
Chants and hymns echoed throughout the hall, lending an air of holiness to the place.
In contrast, the old church from a few years ago could only be described as shabby. It seemed that the gradual prosperity of the Northwest Bay over the past few years had brought considerable benefits to the church as well.
Not far away, a clergyman saw this group entering the church but did not go to pray before the relic or to donate money. Instead, he wandered around, occasionally stopping to ask some believers questions, feeling somewhat displeased.
He quickly recognized Paul as the leader of the group. Given the appearance of this large entourage, he assumed Paul must also be someone of stature, so he couldn't afford to lose his temper. He hurried over with quick, small steps and smiled, "Excuse me, sir, may I ask what brings you to the church? Please do not disrupt the activities of others."
"Who is in charge here?"
"It's Lord Volor."
Upon hearing Paul's question, the deacon felt increasingly displeased, sensing a condescending tone in Paul's voice.
"Oh? It's him? Then I'd like to meet Father Volor."
Paul made the request. He vaguely remembered the priest's appearance; Volor had visited him before taking over the church in Frand Port. However, since the deacon didn't recognize him, Paul didn't want to reveal his identity as a lord, so he didn't ask the deacon to summon Volor directly.
"Um… may I ask your name?"
"I know him. Just say that an old friend from Alden Town wishes to see him; he'll know who I am when you describe my appearance."
"Okay, please wait a moment."
Though curious about why the man wouldn't disclose his name, the deacon thought that perhaps he indeed had a close relationship with Lord Volor, so he hurriedly ran towards the back of the hall.
Father Volor was in his forties and came from a noble family in the Northwest Bay. When he was dispatched to Frand Port three years ago, he initially thought he had been marginalized since Alden was the most backward territory in the Northwest Bay at that time.
But who would have thought? Truly, who would have thought?
In just a few short years, the land beneath his feet had undergone a tremendous transformation, and his position had become something his colleagues envied greatly.
"This must be the reward from the Lord of Light for my years of diligent service," he mused, sitting in his office today, reflecting on his fortune.
However, he had recently heard some rumors that someone was conspiring to transfer him away from Frand Port.
How outrageous! These despicable and shameless people actually want to take away the glory bestowed upon him by the Father in Heaven.
Hmph, it's nothing but a pipe dream. As long as he frequented the church personnel responsible, Lord Woz, he would be fine…
"Father Volor."
"What is it?"
One of the church's deacons rushed over, interrupting his thoughts and causing him some annoyance.
"There's someone outside claiming to be an old friend of yours from Alden Town who wishes to see you."
"An old friend from Alden Town? What's their name?"
The deacon shook his head, "It seems they're unwilling to say."
"How rude," Volor said, stroking his chin as he recalled. "I don't think I have any grievances with anyone from there. Wait, how old is this person? What do they look like?"
"A young man, looks about seventeen or eighteen, with black hair…"
"God!" Volor leapt up from his chair and dashed outside, leaving the deacon looking bewildered.
Paul stood by the wall, listening to his female advisor evaluate a mural artistically. He nodded along, appearing to understand, when he suddenly saw a plump middle-aged priest jogging toward him.
"L-Lord! You're here!"
Volor couldn't bring himself to call Paul's surname, realizing that since Paul hadn't told the deacon his name, he probably didn't want to expose his identity.
"It's been a long time, Father Volor," Paul greeted him, stopping Volor from bowing.
"Haha, it has indeed been a while. Is there something important bringing you to my church today?"
"Not particularly important; I just happened to be passing by and remembered I hadn't visited this new church yet, so I came to take a look. I asked around and found you still working here, so I thought I'd drop by."
"Drop by? No, no. Let me be your guide and show you around," Volor insisted.
Paul waved his hand, "No need. I've already seen most of the main hall. Let's chat for a bit. I want to know about some recent events in the Northwest District. Do you have a place where we can talk?"
"Yes, please follow me to my office at the back of the parish."
"Let's go!"
Under Volor's guidance, Paul and his group entered a very luxurious room, which appeared to be his office.
Looking at the decorations inside, Paul felt a pang of jealousy. Wow, although this guy is a clergyman, he knows how to enjoy life; his office is even nicer than where I work as a lord.
Hmm? What's that red bottle?
With keen eyesight, Paul quickly noticed something that seemed a bit "out of place" here.
Volor, seeing Paul staring blankly at something on his desk, felt a wave of panic wash over him.
He hurriedly tried to hide it.
"Father, that is…"
"Ah, ah, ah? Lord, that is… that is…"
Seeing the flustered expression on the priest's face, Paul couldn't help but chuckle, a teasing smile appearing on his face.
Tilting his head slightly, Paul asked with a grin, "Is that fermented grape juice?"
(End of the Chapter)
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