Chapter 358: Archbishop

As Raymond Aron had said, although Paladins usually sought a home for their faith, their true source of power was their oath—something no one could take away. Aron's claim of "stripping" him of his power that day was, in reality, an attempt to shake Andre's conviction. If the young man had been swayed by his authority, words, and will at that moment, Andre truly would have reverted to being an ordinary person.

As for oathbreakers like Death Knights? Andre was not nearly at that level.

"Yes," Andre said aloud, but only he knew how much he truly understood. Or perhaps he would go his entire life without realizing that the Chief Judge, who had nearly laid his soul bare, had unknowingly set the course for his future.

Ron didn't know what they were muttering about. For him, the vows he took at the start of his career in a past life hadn't granted him power like a Paladin's. He had far more faith in results achieved through his own hands and mind.

Aside from the small stir caused by Andre and Aron's reconciliation, the banquet was a pleasant affair for both hosts and guests. After mounting their horses and pack animals, the four from Molten Iron Barrier bid farewell to Delusional Land and soon disappeared into the distance in a cloud of dust.

Ever since Delusional Land got on the right track, a continuous stream of factions and organizations had come to visit. Molten Iron Barrier was not the first, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. To Ron and his people, they were perhaps just some dangerous passersby, but this journey had changed the visitors' fates.

Especially Priest Pergrande's.

Although it was located in the south, the changing climate made this winter especially cold. Molten Iron Barrier, a mountain city forged by the ancient Dwarves, welcomed its sixth major snowfall since the founding of the Religious Order.

Pergrande walked down a corridor in the Religious Order's headquarters, hissing as the cold air bit at her and exhaling a white cloud. She pulled her reddish-brown bishop's vestments tighter. Not long after she and her comrades returned from Delusional Land and submitted their report, all four of them had, to their surprise, received promotions. It was extremely rare for Priests withdrawn from the battlefield to receive such commendations without any new military achievements. As a result, Raymond and the other two drew considerable criticism.

Pergrande was the only one of the four whose promotion went unquestioned. The secondary reason was, of course, that she had been nominated for the position of Bishop for years. The main reason, however, was that her promotion was personally appointed by the Archbishop of the Religious Order. The official justification was that during the trip to Delusional Land, Pergrande had exceptionally completed the task assigned to her: strengthening the bond between the Religious Order and a new Lord.

But Pergrande herself scoffed at this reasoning. 'She knew perfectly well how much she had actually done, didn't she?' Regardless, becoming a Bishop had been her long-cherished wish, so for it to be realized this way was a good thing. She had no intention of probing any further.

'In any case, all the procedures were followed strictly according to protocol, weren't they?'

Now a Bishop, Pergrande looked up at the row of round windows lining the corridor, her gaze a mixture of satisfaction and melancholy. The responsibilities of a Bishop were far heavier than those of a Priest. The next time she returned to the battlefield, she might have to command hundreds of soldiers, just like Old Lei. 'Could she really do as good a job as he did?'

'Speaking of which, I heard Old Lei was transferred. I wonder when we'll all be able to get together again...'

The sound of footsteps from behind interrupted Pergrande's thoughts. She turned to see a burly old man with graying hair and a beard walking down the corridor toward her. He wore the vestments of the Religious Order's supreme leader, over which he had draped a large, thick, dark-colored animal hide cloak. The faintly shimmering runes upon it revealed that the cloak was no ordinary item.

Pergrande snorted inwardly. 'Heh... so even the Archbishop can't stand this god-awful weather. The Order hasn't seen weather this extreme in years. Many of the Monks and nuns don't even own thick clothes, but of course the Archbishop, old fox that he is, is well-prepared.'

"Bishop Pergrande," the Archbishop said. He was sixty-nine years old; as a human, his life was nearing its end, but as a faithful servant of the Deities, his true service had yet to begin. "It's cold in the corridors. Why aren't you wearing warmer clothes?"

"Look at you, you're freezing. Here, put this on." As the Priest he had personally appointed, Pergrande was naturally entitled to his special favor. The Archbishop took off his own cloak and draped it over her shoulders. A current of warmth instantly filled Pergrande's body. "You're still young, with a long road ahead of you. What would we do if you fell ill from the cold?"

"Thank you, Archbishop." A hint of gratitude rose in Pergrande's heart, but she forcefully extinguished the feeling when she thought of her brethren out in the cold. "But the others outside—"

"I know, I know." The Archbishop raised a hand and pressed the air downward, a familiar gesture he used to bid others to listen. "I am, of course, aware of our comrades' suffering. However, we also have a shortage of thick clothing. We can only wait for the garments we purchased from the Elves to arrive. My hands are tied."

'Bullshit!' Pergrande cursed inwardly. 'If the clothes haven't arrived, then hand out the silk and linen from the warehouses!' On her face, however, she wore an expression of pious sorrow. "They will surely feel your compassion."

"By the way, Your Grace, where are you headed in this cold? Allow me to see you there."

"No need, it's just a few steps away," the Archbishop said with a smile. "I'm heading to the chapel. I've arranged an impromptu meeting with Lord Sred and a few others."

"An impromptu meeting?" Pergrande blinked. 'Since becoming a Bishop, it had only taken her three days to get a handle on the ways of these "Lords." They were the type of people for whom everything was regimented, down to the number of times they chewed their food. What on earth could possibly warrant an "impromptu meeting" with them?'

'Besides, the chapel wasn't a normal meeting place.'

"It's about the war against the Abyss." The Archbishop's expression grew serious. "Some time ago, our regulations led our comrades on the front lines into a deathtrap. We've since made modifications to make our rules more robust and adaptable to unexpected circumstances."

Pergrande blinked again. 'How come I haven't heard anything about a situation on the front lines?'

Filled with suspicion, Pergrande waited until the Archbishop had departed. Seeing that no one was around, she lightened her steps and silently followed. As a veteran tempered by wars against demons, Pergrande's movements, when unarmored, could rival a Ranger's. She slowly pressed her ear to the great door the Archbishop had just closed, listening intently to the sounds within.

The Archbishop's voice drifted out from inside. His tone was placid, making it clear this was not the first such meeting he had held. "Lord Sred, has any news come back from Rose City? What was the Duke's reaction to our proposal?"