Chapter 377: The Drunkard in the Winery

"Daughter? What daughter?"

The Elf Longbowman was taken aback.

The air fell into a strange silence.

"What... what?" The middle-aged Bishop was slow to understand. "Could you say that again?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Liya said, looking at the Bishop. "What are you talking about—"

"He means Aive, my dear," Daniel, who was tied up with her, sighed softly. "The one who went off to be an Adventurer in the Delusional Land, remember?"

The Elf's face lit up with realization. "I remember now! Heavens, it's a good thing she isn't with us. She isn't even an adult yet!"

"She came of age a long time ago, my dear." Daniel knew his wife was thinking of their daughter as a full-blooded Elf again. "She's only half-Elf."

"The union of Elves and humans is truly a mistake," the middle-aged Bishop sneered after a moment, finally grasping the situation. He turned away. "Wouldn't you agree, Monk?"

By a pillar, the Half-Elf cradling a sheathed sword nearly as tall as himself lifted his head slightly. He answered in a low, hoarse voice, "Yes, Bishop Patrick."

He was once a close comrade-in-arms to Aron and Pergrande. But while his companions went on to bright futures, his lower status left him unable to control his own destiny. The Religious Order assigned him to this Bishop as a personal bodyguard.

Although the pay was indeed better, for the Half-Elf Martial Monk, this was hardly a good assignment.

Firstly, he now had to stay far away from conflict to avoid dragging his direct superior into a fight. Secondly, this Bishop gave him a very bad feeling.

'Take this kidnapping, for example. I don't know who came up with this idea, but I refuse to believe it aligns with the Religious Order's principles. Then again, for soldiers and Monks alike, obedience is paramount.'

"Such a wet blanket, no fun at all," Bishop Patrick tsked, falling silent.

This whole affair was originally supposed to be under Bishop Sred's sole authority. However, the contact person—Bishop Sred's own brother—suddenly turned traitor, causing the plan to go awry. That was why he had to be dispatched at the last minute to take his place.

'But looking at it now, Bishop Sred's abilities are clearly lacking. He couldn't even handle a simple task like posing as a brother to set up an ambush.'

Bishop Patrick suddenly let out a cold laugh. He raised his right hand, pointing to a dark corner of the distillery. "Friend, you've been hiding for so long. Why not come out and show yourself?"

'Someone's here?'

The Half-Elf Martial Monk's heart skipped a beat. He vaulted to his feet and looked warily in the direction the Bishop was pointing.

'How strange. This person managed to slip past even me... But how did Bishop Patrick notice them?'

"M-My Lord Bishop, don't be alarmed! It's me!"

With a rustling sound, a short human with a large, red nose and wearing dark brown Monk's robes scurried out from behind a cask. He staggered for a couple of steps, his body swaying from side to side as if he were drunk.

Smelling the strong scent of alcohol wafting over, the Martial Monk's gaze fell on the Monk's poorly hidden wineskin, a trace of contempt and disdain in his eyes.

'Drinking itself isn't a crime, but how can he binge drink under these circumstances?' The Half-Elf's attention shifted to Bishop Patrick, wanting to see how he would handle the matter.

'There are ranks among Bishops, too. Before her apostasy, the bishopric Pergrande was promoted to was the lowest tier; at her age, she had no future prospects. But this Bishop Patrick is on the same level as Bishop Sred. At his age, he'll likely be a candidate for Archbishop one day.'

"You're... Jamie?" Bishop Patrick narrowed his eyes, recognizing the man who was sneaking drinks on the job. "Were you just back there stealing a drink?"

"Lord Bishop, I'm sorry, I'll never do it again." Facing the Bishop and his imposing presence, Monk Jamie's legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, apologizing profusely. "This is a Rose City distillery! I just couldn't resist... I'll never do it again!"

"Ah, the craving got to you. Understandable, understandable." The Bishop's eyes crinkled in a smile. He was surprisingly easygoing as he slowly approached the Monk, his words gentle. "I'm just a little curious. Everyone is on edge right now, yet you have the leisure to sneak a couple of drinks."

"Monk Jamie, get up. Why don't you tell everyone how you overcame your fear and panic?"

Monk Jamie kept his head down, and from an angle no one could see, a red glint flashed in his eyes. He raised his head just enough to stare at the top of Patrick's shoes. "Lord Bishop, I... I don't have much to say. It was just the craving for a drink taking over, it temporarily overwhelmed—"

"Overwhelmed, excellent." Patrick cut him off, but he seemed quite satisfied. "My fellow brothers and sisters in faith, did you all hear that? Though it may not align perfectly with our doctrine, desire can sometimes play a positive role."

"Is Monk Jamie not a living example? Look, everyone! If he did not have this craving, this desire driving him, would he not have lost his composure in this moment of crisis, just like you?"

'Heresy and sophistry!' The Martial Monk turned his head away, unwilling to listen to another word from the Bishop. This was one of the reasons he detested the man: he seemed to have his own interpretation of doctrine and the Oracles, and whenever others questioned him, they could never refute him in a direct debate.

'Such eloquence—or rather, sophistry—is useless for cultivating character and morality, yet he's managed to climb the ranks relying on it!'

Though the Martial Monk scoffed at Patrick, the man's impromptu sermon was surprisingly effective at controlling the situation. More and more Priests stopped what they were doing and gathered around him, listening to the Lord Bishop's preaching with solemn and earnest expressions, as if they had forgotten the imminent crisis.

"My dear, this isn't looking good." As a former Bard, Daniel was all too familiar with this kind of trick. He nudged his wife behind him with his elbow. "Was that drunkard a plant? Did this guy anticipate this?"

If that drunkard was a calming agent deliberately planted by the Bishop, his foresight would be almost too thorough.

"...No." Liya watched them in silence for a moment before rejecting her husband's guess. "That man is probably not just a simple drunkard. Work with me."