The Church

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

After the battle at the city gate, Paul led Schroder and others on horseback into Port Frand.

He surveyed the small port town. In terms of building area, Port Frand was more than twice the size of Alden Town. The houses of the residents were neatly arranged, and generally taller and more beautiful than those in Alden Town. Starting from the city gate, a curved road led to the docks to the west, paved with bricks and stones, far superior to Alden Town's central avenue, which turned muddy with just a little rain.

Despite long-term extortion by pirates, the town still appeared vibrant. No wonder the Shark gang had set their sights here and refused to leave.

As for why the lord's mansion wasn't located here, while pirate threats were significant, more lords in the northwest preferred not to settle in bustling towns. Many lords lived in solitary castles or manors, with no surrounding residences, a common practice even in Paul's memories of medieval Europe.

"Now isn't the time to admire the scenery," Paul refocused. At this moment, Cecil, the intelligence chief with the army, estimated the pirate casualties and prisoners, reporting, "Sir, most of the pirate combatants are accounted for here. I estimate they number no more than fifty remaining."

After a brief discussion among the officers, two cannons and a company were left to guard the city gate. Other units spread out in town to search for any remaining pirates, especially their leader, Shark. After a brief interrogation of prisoners, it appeared the cunning pirate leader had incited his men to fight bravely before slipping away unnoticed.

Schroder suggested, "I believe we must immediately occupy the docks. Shark may quietly escape from there by boat."

Paul agreed, ordering Schroder to lead a company in a forced march to secure the docks and block the port.

Meanwhile, other officers led their soldiers to hunt down the remnants of the pirate band. Paul himself, along with Cecil and two squads of musketeers, headed towards the town's central church. Intelligence indicated it served as the pirates' temporary headquarters, and Paul hoped they might have hidden valuables there—shimmering gold coins or sparkling gems—as pirates were rumored to hoard treasure in various tales.

The residents of Port Frand had closed their doors tightly, fearing being caught up in the fighting. The streets were eerily quiet, disturbed only by the marching of soldiers and the clatter of hooves.

As they neared the church, the soldier at the front suddenly signaled caution. Another soldier immediately surrounded Earl Paul and Cecil.

The church doors were tightly closed, with two bodies dressed as pirates lying at the entrance. It was indeed strange; they should have been the first troops to reach this area. Could there have been infighting among the pirates?

Soon, the church doors were forcefully pushed open, and soldiers rushed into the nave, carefully searching every corner.

But apart from a few pirate corpses, they found nothing.

"It seems there was indeed infighting. Another group must have fled with valuable items," Paul concluded.

After making this judgment, Paul prayed anxiously, "Lord of Light, although I may not have respected your earthly brothers in my past life, please bless Schroder to intercept them. I promise to offer three pillars of incense to you afterwards... oh no, donate three coins to the church, well, maybe copper coins."

Discontentedly, he wandered aimlessly with two soldiers in the church, hoping the pirates might have left something behind.

After checking several rooms himself, he reached a room on the second floor and glanced around. Besides a bed, a square table, and an old wardrobe, there was nothing.

"Oh, Lord of Light! Show me a miracle, otherwise those three copper coins will be lost to you."

He complained, then kicked the wardrobe angrily.

"Ah!"

A clear cry of surprise rang out.

The two soldiers and the Count widened their eyes.

"Who's there? Come out!"

One soldier shouted loudly while forcefully kicking the wardrobe, and the other soldier quickly shielded the Count behind him. The dense footsteps outside the room indicated that soldiers from other places had heard the noise and were running towards this room.

A voice came from inside the wardrobe, tinged with a pleading tone, "Please don't kick anymore, I'm coming out! Spare me, spare me, please!"

Then the wardrobe door opened, and under everyone's gaze, a middle-aged man in a white robe with a Mediterranean hairstyle crawled out.

He staggered a few steps and knelt before Paul with a thud, clutching his legs with snot and tears streaming down his face. "My lord, I'm just a traveling priest. I've been staying here for a few days, and I'm not with the pirates who live here. Please don't mistake me for a villain!" With that, he burst into tears, a sound so heart-wrenching that listeners couldn't help but be moved.

"Get up, get up!" Paul kicked him away.

This was too much. He couldn't stand a middle-aged oily man kneeling before him, weeping uncontrollably. However, the man had sharp eyes; he recognized Paul as the leader of this group as soon as he emerged.

Ignoring everything, the man continued wailing, "Oh, Heavenly Father, your servant is ready to serve you!"

Paul couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance. Even though he was trying to control himself, his aura leaked out enough to make an ordinary person unable to stand up.

The Count elegantly raised his right hand, pushed his hair back, lifted his chin, and struck a pose he considered quite handsome. "I am the local lord, here to eradicate the long-standing pirate menace and ensure peace and safety, not to cause trouble." He continued to exude an aura of dominance.

"The lord?" The Mediterranean priest stopped crying immediately, raising his head to scrutinize the man before him carefully. "Hmm? I was so caught up in my sobbing. On closer inspection, your actions and demeanor do resemble those of a naive young master."

"Hmph!" Standing up, he cleared his throat to disguise his embarrassment and straightened his clothes.

The Mediterranean priest replied calmly and methodically, "So you're the lord of this place. May I know how to address you, young sir?" There was a hint of pride on his face, reminding Paul of the royal commissioner he had outsmarted. Speaking of which, that guy disappeared after the pirate attack; no one knew where he went.

"Standing before you is the vassal of the Kingdom's northwest, the scourge of pirates, the summoner of thunder (firearms), the spreader of the Gospel (printing), Earl of Alden, Paul Grayman." Should I add the title of "Liberator of the Buttocks"? Nah, maybe not.

The Mediterranean priest's face immediately brightened like a chrysanthemum. "So you are a Earl!"

He clasped his hands together in front of his chest, fingers intertwined, looking at Paul as if he were seeing a descending angel. The hint of pride from earlier vanished completely, as if it had never appeared.

Paul sized up this self-proclaimed priest and waved his hand towards the soldiers, saying, "You all can leave. I need to have a private conversation with this priest."

Seeing the soldiers hesitate, he patted the pistol hanging at his waist. "Don't worry, everything's fine!"

(End of this chapter)