Chapter 56 The Smiling Lady

“Tymora?”

Xia Nan had not expected that answer from the halfling.

It sent him digging through the mountain of occult knowledge he had crammed into his head over the past few days.

There was Tyr, the Maimed God of Justice, whose faith supported numerous knightly orders devoted to rooting out injustice wherever they found it.

Then there was the Bloodskull Cult, which hid in the darkest corners of society and worshipped Bhaal, the God of Murder. Wherever its members appeared, bloodshed was rarely far behind.

Compared to gods like those, the Smiling Lady was remarkably low-key.

She showed little interest in aggressively spreading her faith, nor did she seem fond of displaying so-called “miracles” before the public.

In the Kingdom of Servia, large temples dedicated to Tymora were rare. Even tiny roadside shrines no bigger than birdcages were difficult to find.

Only the truly devout, those who carried the teachings of the Goddess of Fortune into every word and deed of their daily lives, had a chance to receive her test and become priests of her faith.

At the same time, however, the unusual nature of Tymora’s divine authority meant that she had an almost absurd number of nominal believers across the continent.

Merchants, sailors, gamblers… even a great many adventurers counted themselves among her worshippers.

Some of them never spoke her name in ordinary life. They might not even know exactly what she governed or what her holy symbol looked like.

Yet that did not stop them from silently calling upon Tymora when they stumbled across an unexpected treasure chest or prepared to lift a dice cup, hoping the goddess might spare them a little good luck.

And strangely enough, the Smiling Lady was not stingy with her favor.

Idle gamblers, reckless merchants… Those willing to put something important at stake and leave the outcome to luck often managed to draw Tymora’s gaze.

That was why stories regularly circulated about some lucky fool winning a fortune at a gambling house, or a struggling merchant suddenly landing the deal of a lifetime.

Of course, the gambler might blow every last coin within days, while the merchant went on to lose money on every deal that followed.

That was beside the point.

In short, anyone who still called themselves a worshipper of Tymora when there was no immediate benefit involved probably did believe in the aloof goddess sincerely.

And after telling Xia Nan about his faith, Alton had simply stopped there. No sermon. No persuasion. Not even the slightest attempt to convert him.

That, at least, felt very much like the style of a believer of the Goddess of Fortune.

Still…

Xia Nan ate from his bowl while quietly studying Alton from the corner of his eye.

One moment, the halfling was turning his spoon over in his hands with great interest, as though fascinated by the method used to forge it.

The next, a night owl passed overhead.

Alton immediately jumped up, pulled off his soft cap, and shook it three times with solemn superstition.

Xia Nan’s expression grew a little strange.

He had once heard an elderly drunk at the inn ramble about a peculiar secret concerning halflings.

They were like protagonists in old poems and adventure stories, the kind who somehow refused to die no matter what happened before the tale reached its ending.

Halflings were curious by nature, cheerful, friendly, and almost unnaturally lucky.

One might tumble off a cliff only for a branch to snag the leg of his trousers.

Another might run straight into a monster, only for a passing adventurer to appear at exactly the right moment.

Most halflings attributed that sort of absurd fortune to their mother goddess, Yondalla.

Not to the Smiling Lady, who stood outside the Hin Pantheon.

So a halfling worshipping the Goddess of Fortune made perfect sense.

It was just uncommon.

The moment Alton noticed that Xia Nan had emptied his bowl, the halfling sprang to his feet and enthusiastically ladled in another two scoops of stew.

His smile practically glowed.

Apparently, Xia Nan’s willingness to keep eating was the highest possible praise for his cooking.

“Thanks.”

Xia Nan accepted the wooden bowl and took another bite.

Meanwhile, another thought surfaced in his mind.

He was an adventurer now.

He dealt with monsters nearly every day.

Calling it a dangerous profession would be putting it mildly. His current life was basically a dance along a tightrope.

He had never felt much enthusiasm toward the gods of this continent, but the Goddess of Fortune…

Well.

Maybe believing in her a little would not hurt?

With that thought in mind, Xia Nan casually steered the conversation in that direction.

Casually, but carefully.

Very carefully.

Every ordinary sentence went through at least two rounds of inspection in his head before he allowed it out of his mouth.

After all, gods actually existed in this world.

What if he accidentally said something offensive and Tymora happened to hear him?

She would not even need to do much.

A casual wave of her hand, a few points shaved off his luck…

His life would be over.

Unfortunately, Alton’s answer was not especially encouraging.

“Of course you can!” Alton declared, still waving his spoon around with a huge smile. “No deity in the world would complain about gaining another believer.”

“Then what would I need to do? Some kind of ritual? Or would I need an item from a priest?”

“Hmm…”

Alton scratched his head through his pointed soft cap.

“Probably… nothing?”

Xia Nan stared at him.

Alton thought for another moment.

“If you believe you’re one of the Lady’s believers, then you are.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I mean, one night I suddenly received a divine message from the Lady in a dream.”

Xia Nan’s expression slowly stiffened.

Seeing that, Alton hurriedly added,

“Or you could try finding a four-leaf clover and putting it under your pillow while you sleep! Maybe that’ll work!”

Xia Nan shook his head.

All right.

He understood now.

For a deity with Tymora’s personality, unless someone possessed exceptionally sincere faith or happened to be naturally favored by the goddess like the halfling in front of him, there was probably no way to establish any meaningful connection with her.

If you did not believe, then you did not believe.

Even if Xia Nan prayed to Tymora three thousand times every night before bed, he suspected his odds of gaining her attention would still be worse than if he walked into a gambling house and bet all hundred-plus of his gold coins on a single roll.

He let the matter go.

Xia Nan continued eating the distinctively flavored stew while chatting with Alton.

Talking to a halfling was one thing that would never leave anyone struggling through an awkward silence.

Alton was far too enthusiastic for that.

Xia Nan only needed to mention something in passing, and the halfling would immediately launch into five related stories, eight unrelated ones, and another dozen topics that somehow appeared along the way.

After only a few dozen minutes, Xia Nan knew exactly which seasonings Alton’s mother preferred to cook with and what time the old man living next door watered his plants every morning.

It was ridiculous.

Fortunately, before Xia Nan completely lost himself in the endless galaxy of topics spilling from the halfling’s mouth, someone finally rescued him.

Jeff, the caravan leader, approached the adventurers’ temporary camp.

The honest, plain-looking man carried a large bowl of stewed meat in both hands.

He had come to discuss tomorrow’s route and the arrangements afterward.

“At the latest, we should reach Kalanfor tomorrow morning. Once we arrive, if everyone’s free, I’ll find a tavern and treat you all to a meal. Consider it a thank-you for the hard work along the way.”

“If anyone’s in a hurry, we could travel through the night. We’re already close to town, so there shouldn’t be much danger.”

“But just to be safe, I think we should still…”

“Jingle-jingle-jingle!”

A trap had been triggered.

The sharp, urgent ringing cut Jeff off instantly.