Chapter 603 : Is Your Intelligence a Bit Too Outdated
Chapter 603: Is Your Intelligence a Bit Too Outdated?
It seemed he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only shook his head and turned back toward the followers who trailed behind him.
“In any case, since we’ve already arrived in Castel, let us be guests for once. It will also be a good chance to see the believers—we have failed them far too much.”
The priests of the Silent Sanctum had wanted to say something, but when Ignati mentioned the believers of the Sanctum, they all fell silent.
The believers of the White Raven Principality were the ones who had made the greatest sacrifices.
They had lost their homeland and could only wander through the Northlands, driven away again and again by various lords. After finally gathering a Resistance Army, they were then abandoned by the Church.
No matter how many reasons the priests might have had, they all knew in their hearts that they were indebted to the believers.
The Sanctum had failed to shelter its own people. All it could do in the end was perish together with the White Calamity. Had Nora not found Castel as a homeland for the Resistance Army, the believers’ future would surely have been bleak beyond hope.
The priests of the Sanctum truly felt guilt—so much so that some of them even felt it would have been better to die in that White Mist.
“Go and see the believers.”
That reason alone was something no priest could refuse.
Beyond that, however, there was also a trace of unwillingness buried in the hearts of the Silent Sanctum’s priests.
Ignati’s prestige within the Sanctum was immense, and they had not wasted these days in idleness—they had put in great effort.
Yet in Nora’s words, all of that effort seemed meaningless. The Sanctum was merely repeating past sacrifices again and again. This deeply stabbed at the priests’ hearts.
They also wanted to prove themselves—to prove that even if the Sanctum’s path had been wrong, it was not entirely without meaning.
After all, they had truly resolved themselves to sacrifice everything.
With that resolve denied, it was only natural that resentment stirred within them. Nora had praised Castel so highly that they found it hard to fully believe her.
Moreover, they had heard that this Earl Hughes was merely a Frontier Count.
They had seen Frontier Counts before.
Bazel was one of them. That man did have some ability, but he lacked true depth. Could such a lord really manage a territory well?
Perhaps it was nothing more than good luck—stumbling upon a few new technologies and then taking advantage of the chaos of the times to secure a corner of peace.
Nora was the youngest among the Buriers. She had only completed her ritual a few years ago and lacked experience. Perhaps she had simply been deceived.
Whether Castel truly was a homeland for refugees still required careful inspection.
The priests bore no ill will toward Castel. After all, the Expeditionary Army had treated them, and they had also heard of Earl Hughes sending troops north for Nora and the Resistance Army.
Even if the reality differed from what Nora described, the priests still intended to contribute their strength here—they certainly had the capability. Standing here were the Transcendents of the entire Silent Sanctum; even the Church of Candlelight could be confronted head-on.
Previously, the Empire’s Royal Army had been personally driven out by this very group of priests. Whether in mundane warfare or extraordinary confrontation, the Silent Sanctum had never known fear.
Hmm. Since Castel was an island, it must have dealt with entities from the sea, right? Whether remnants of the Church of the Sea God or the Pirate King of Gem Bay, the Silent Sanctum could lend a hand. Even if they might not gain an advantage on the enemy’s home ground, at least they could show their stance.
—The Silent Sanctum had long focused its research on countering the White Calamity and had paid little attention to the Empire’s coastline. After the Empress was assassinated and killed, they abandoned the Northlands and moved into the Empire’s interior. At that time, even the drying of the sea had not yet occurred.
After entering the Empire, their intelligence sources relied mainly on the Church of Candlelight, which had deliberately concealed much crucial information. As a result, their understanding of Castel was stuck far in the past. Even when they later tried to inquire specifically, all they obtained were scattered fragments of news.
And in truth, they had never paid much attention to it.
The Buriers’ sense of time differed from that of ordinary people. Eternal life made it easy for them to overlook changes around them. Events from a few years ago? They hardly seemed different from yesterday.
Just a few short years—how much could really change?
The priests of the Silent Sanctum soon reached a consensus. They would follow Ignati and tour Castel.
As for how they would treat Earl Hughes and Castel in the future—better to see the situation first.
“Everyone, since you’ve already regained consciousness, perhaps we should conduct some examinations to facilitate the next stage of treatment?” Richard said as he stepped into the room, seeing that they had reached an agreement.
“No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Richard,” Ignati said, rubbing his head. The knowledge Gwen had smashed into him with a chain flail earlier was still there—mostly basic information, such as Richard’s name.
“Our injuries are all to the soul. It’s a characteristic effect of the Sanctum of Forgetting. We can discuss this later. In any case, we have no other wounds.”
“Is that so…” Richard glanced at the faint traces of blood visible among Ignati’s white hair, the corner of his eye twitching.
“Rest assured, these are all superficial injuries. For Buriers, they’re of little consequence and will recover quickly.” Ignati reached up to touch his temple, then winced, squinting in pain.
Only then did the Buriers notice that they all seemed to have minor head injuries. As for who the culprit was, that went without saying.
—Gwen was still holding her chain flail, looking eager to swing it again.
“Mm, thank you, Miss Gwen. Without your help, we wouldn’t have woken up. Hiss—your arm strength is really something.”
“It’s nothing. I built it up back when I did farm work. If you need treatment later, just come find me,” Gwen said with a smile.
For some reason, when facing Ignati, the Patriarch of the Silent Sanctum, she no longer felt the nervousness and restraint she’d had when facing Alexei. Clearly, this was the very figure whose stories she’d grown up hearing since childhood.
Perhaps after smashing someone’s head with a chain flail, the relationship naturally improved.
Yes—Silent Sanctum incense burners must have some effect that enhanced friendship. Gwen quietly noted this in her heart, sneaking a glance at the helmeted Nora and pondering whether she should try it later.
“Hello, hello! I’m Nini. I’m a journalist by profession and an honorary member of the Hospital Knights of Castel. The Banshee Squad will be arriving soon—I can take you on a tour then!” Nini squeezed enthusiastically into the room, plunging into the crowd and shaking hands with seven people at once.
Ignati took hold of the tip of her tail that she extended and gave it a polite shake, his face betraying no expression.
The reactions of the other Silent Sanctum members, however, were far more dramatic.
They first looked at Nini with guarded expressions, but soon clutched their foreheads, fear spreading across their faces.
It wasn’t that Nini had attacked them—
It was mainly because Gwen had just hammered the idea of “Banshees are good people—good demons” straight into their skulls.