Never joined the Three Saints Church?
Yvette arched a brow, surprised by the answer.
Over the years, her knowledge of the True-God churches was no longer as shallow as before. She knew that within a True-God church like the Three Saints Church, “Thunder Judgnt” was a formidable signature art, strictly forbidden to be passed on. Anyone outside who dared display mastery of it would either be hunted down by the Tribunal or forced to join it. There was almost no third path.
Of course, in practice it might not always be as terrifying as it sounded—but for 99% of individuals, the Three Saints Church was a colossal behemoth. Aside from heretics, few dared touch that hornet’s nest.
“How did you obtain Thunder Judgnt?” Yvette naturally pressed.
Eamon looked at the moonlight at his feet. In the still night his voice was especially low, tinged with a hint of release. “It was more than ten years ago—you may have heard Lucia ntion it. When I was young, I was a Gold-rank adventurer. Only one-star, the lowest tier, but still Gold. My steps took all over the world, including the Herman Empire to the north.”
As expected, Yvette thought. The Herman Empire: the foremost human nation and birthplace of the Three Saints Church. Add in its distinctive red-haired population, and it was hard not to link it to Lucia’s origins.
“In those days, I t many people and went through many things, until one day an important friend entrusted Lucia to ,” Eamon said in a tone colored by reminiscence.
“A friend?”
“Yes. H—his na was ‘Alistair Valois,’ an Inquisitor of the Tribunal. In truth, I don’t know what happened. My guess is he beca entangled in so internal conflict or dreadful secret within the Church, and to keep Lucia—still an infant—out of it, he secretly sought out. Whether Lucia was related to him by blood, I can’t say. Judging by hair and features, probably not,” Eamon said, voice complex.
“He gave you Thunder Judgnt as well?”
“Yes.” Eamon nodded emphatically. “Thunder Judgnt has several tiers. What he gave was a version far more advanced than what ordinary Arbiter Knights would learn, and he instructed to use it only in dire ergencies. Later I developed the Red Lotus art because I coveted Judgnt’s power and wanted to wrap it in a disguise—but I never truly succeeded.”
“Is Alistair still alive?” Yvette asked, pointedly.
“I… I don’t know. The identities of the Tribunal’s upper ranks are secrets by nature. Even if there was internal strife, outsiders would scarcely learn of it.” Eamon shook his head, a veiled tenderness entering his tone. “And once I had Lucia, I stopped following those matters—partly to be thorough in my seclusion, partly because nothing beyond her felt worth caring about.”
The yard fell into a brief silence, broken only by the wind whispering through leaves.
Yvette thought that these were leads to pursue at the Academy of Truth; if she could help it, she would not go to the Herman Empire. The Lord of Unity was a true god who answered the fervor of His faithful; stepping onto His ho ground felt a bit like walking into a trap.
Then she heard Eamon say, “…At first I ant to honor Alistair’s wishes and let Lucia live out a quiet life. But now I see that’s impossible—and a waste. She isn’t ant for this place, nor should I keep her tethered to . I want a new stage for her—one that lets her spread her wings and also shelters her. On this continent, I suspect there’s only one such place.”
“The Academy of Truth?”
“Exactly.” Eamon nodded, eyes alight. “The Academy of Truth is the continent’s sanctuary of knowledge, a pure land left to the world by legendary mages. Even the three great True-God churches, the proud elves, and the haughty dragons dare not slight it. If Lucia can enter on her own talent—and soday even join its ranks—then no matter what happens, I believe she’ll be safe.”
He paused, then looked to Yvette, speaking earnestly. “Miss Loxivia, you wield power far beyond my reach. Since you’re also heading to the Academy of Truth, I ask that you escort her safely there and see her through the examinations. Once I’m gone, I expect you’ll be the only one she can rely on.”
“All right.” Yvette’s answer held not a flicker of hesitation.
Eamon exhaled in relief, a gratified smile easing his face. He bent with a hand over his heart and said solemnly, “Thank you for your rcy and your pledge, Miss Loxivia. I’ll rember this kindness all my life.”
In their later discussion, Yvette learned that, fearing the Tribunal’s Arbiter Knights might co, Eamon planned to leave that very night. He’d already explained what needed explaining these past two days; slipping away would avoid much trouble. Whatever needed saying could be left by letter—anything but a face-to-face goodbye.
Yvette adjusted his plan: at first light, she would take Lucia and depart the village at once for the Academy of Truth. After they were gone, Eamon would pack and set out.
This was, in fact, what Eamon preferred. He was simply in a hurry to leave and didn’t know when the young lady witch ant to travel, so he’d resorted to that stopgap. Now that the young lady witch had rearranged her schedule to take Lucia ahead, so much the better.
It also deepened Eamon’s gratitude toward her and his certainty that, by the witch’s side, his daughter would never be wronged.
Thus, at dawn the next day, with the sky just graying, word that Yvette and Lucia were heading to the Academy of Truth spread through the village like wildfire.
It was only natural. Lucia’s talent was plain to all; the lady mage was unfathomable; and they matched an academic holy land like the Academy. The only surprise was how sudden it was—so sudden many were unprepared.
The village youths were especially conflicted. None would admit it, but in their hearts Yvette and Lucia had always been the twin emblems of first love—ice and fire bound together.
Now both goddesses of their secret adoration were leaving together, bound for that far-off academy of legend. Who knew when they’d et again? How could a brood of love-struck boys not feel wistful and blue?
Morning ca in full.
At the village entrance, the carriage and driver Eamon had rented overnight in Autumnwind City were ready. In the center of the crowd, Yvette’s face was as calm as ever; Lucia’s eyes were rimd red—perhaps she’d cried in the night.
After bidding each villager goodbye, she hugged her father, then climbed into the carriage with her bundle and said softly, “Yvette, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Yvette nodded and lightly hopped aboard. She carried little—no change of clothes, just so gold and small coin.
Once, her not changing clothes had been village gossip; later everyone grew used to it and stopped ntioning it.
As for what they made of it, Yvette didn’t care. With the driver’s crack of the whip and a shout, the wheels rumbled over the dirt at the village gate and rolled away. Eamon stood motionless, watching the carriage vanish at the end of the road. Middle-aged already, he seed to age another decade in an instant. In the pale morning light his figure looked especially solitary—like an old tree stripped of every branch, its bare, desolate outline exposed.
Inside the carriage, Yvette had just found a comfortable spot, propping Lucia’s clothes-stuffed bundle behind her as a pillow, when the red-haired girl nestled against her and drifted into sleep—no doubt last night’s rush had robbed her of rest.
Breathing in the faint fragrance in the air, Yvette didn’t push her away. She only turned her gaze to the window, mood faintly stirred.
She felt little for Sanggren Village, but for the Academy of Truth—yes. After all, Rosalyn founded that academy. In a way, that made it hers.
Thus, unlike Lucia’s mixture of awe and nerves as an examinee, Yvette’s mindset was closer to that of a… parent.
Yes.
Though no one would acknowledge it, she felt she ought to be the Academy of Truth’s parent—one generation higher even than its founder.
In Rosalyn’s absence, it should fall to her to watch over the academy and, as far as she was able, help it grow better.
This, too, counted as part of her duty—as a teacher.
Reviews
All reviews (0)