Chapter 56: Lady Luck
"Tymora?"
I was quite surprised by the halfling's faith.
I couldn't help but recall the various occult knowledge I'd been urgently studying recently.
In my impression, compared to the god of justice and mutilation "Tyr," who had nurous knight orders dedicated to eliminating all injustice;
Or the Cult of the Blood Skull, lurking in the depths of shadow, worshipping the god of murder "Bhaal," whose every appearance was accompanied by bloody carnage.
Lady Luck could be said to be extrely low-key.
She was neither passionate about urgently spreading her doctrine, nor did she enjoy flaunting so-called "miracles" before people.
In the Servia Kingdom, you rarely saw large temples dedicated to Tymora, and even birdcage-sized shrines were uncommon.
Only those most devout, who implented the goddess of fortune's doctrine into their every word and deed, had the chance to accept trials and beco priests in the relevant field.
But on the other hand, due to the special nature of the dominion she held, Tymora had an exaggerated number of casual believers across the entire continent.
rchants, sailors, gamblers... and even many adventurers were followers of this goddess.
Even if they never ntioned it normally, and didn't even know what her specific functions or holy symbol looked like.
It didn't prevent them from silently chanting Tymora's divine na in their hearts when facing a suddenly discovered treasure chest or a dice cup about to be revealed, praying for good fortune.
And what was novel was that Lady Luck never stinted with her power.
Idle gamblers, rashly adventurous rchants... those who dared to place their important possessions on the other end of the scales and let luck decide their future often attracted Tymora's gaze.
So you'd often hear about so lucky fellow winning a large sum at the gambling house, or so small rchant happening upon a big business deal.
—Even if the won coins were quickly squandered by the free-spending gambler, or the rchant suffered consecutive losses in subsequent business.
In short, in scenarios unrelated to self-interest, those who could still call themselves Tymora's followers obviously genuinely believed in this goddess of indifferent nature.
And after the halfling before explained his faith, he said no more, showing not the slightest intention to proselytize—truly demonstrating the style of a follower of the goddess of fortune.
Only...
I ate the stew in my bowl, my peripheral vision sizing up Alton beside .
I saw him sotis studying the spoon in his hand with great interest, as if curious about its forging process; sotis hastily standing up because of a night owl flying overhead, superstitiously taking his soft cap in hand and shaking it three tis.
My expression carried a trace of peculiarity.
I had once heard from an elderly drunkard at the inn about secrets concerning the halfling race.
Like protagonists in poems and novels who wouldn't die until the story ended.
These small folk full of curiosity, cheerful and enthusiastic, seed naturally blessed by the goddess of fortune.
Falling off cliffs only to have their trouser legs caught by tree branches, encountering monsters only to accidentally receive support from passing adventurers...
Under normal circumstances, halflings would often attribute their good fortune to their mother goddess "Yondalla."
Rather than Lady Luck, who was outside the Hin pantheon.
Therefore, a halfling who believed in the goddess of fortune was reasonable but rare.
Noticing my bowl of stew had bottod out, Alton, who had finally settled down for a mont, imdiately stood up and ladled two more spoonfuls for .
The smile spreading across his face seed especially satisfied by my recognition of his cooking skills.
"Thank you."
I accepted the wooden bowl the halfling handed and expressed my thanks.
But I couldn't help pondering inwardly.
I was engaged in adventuring work, dealing with various monsters every day—practically dancing on a tightrope.
Although I wasn't keen on the deities of this continent, when it ca to the goddess of fortune... perhaps I could believe in her a little?
So I borrowed the topic to raise related questions with the halfling.
Of course, my words were extrely restrained and cautious.
Even casual phrases had to turn twice in my belly before coming out.
After all, this world truly had deities!
If I accidentally said sothing offensive and Tymora happened to hear it.
If she casually shaved a few points off my luck, I'd be done for this lifeti.
But the halfling's answer disappointed sowhat.
"Of course you can!" Alton waved the spoon in his hand, his face still carrying a broad smile. "No deity in this world would refuse another follower."
"What specifically do I need? Rituals, or so kind of sacrificial item?"
"Umm..."
Alton scratched his head through his pointed soft cap.
"Probably... not necessary."
"If you think you're Lady Luck's follower, then you are."
"Anyway, I suddenly received the Lady's oracle in a dream one night."
Seeing my gradually stiffening expression, the halfling hastily added.
"Perhaps you could try picking a four-leaf clover and putting it under your pillow when you sleep—maybe it'll work!"
I shook my head.
But I already understood in my heart that for deities like Tymora with this personality, unless one's faith was extrely devout, or like the halfling before who was naturally favored by the goddess.
Otherwise, it would be impossible to establish a genuine connection with her.
Not believing ant not believing.
Even if I prayed to her three thousand tis every night before sleeping, it might not be as likely to get Tymora's attention as finding a gambling house and going all-in with the hundred-plus gold coins I had.
No longer dwelling on it.
I continued drinking the uniquely flavored stew while casually chatting with Alton.
Incredibly enthusiastic—chatting with a halfling never had cold monts.
Often I would just ntion sothing casually, and Alton would pour out topics like beans from a bag.
In just a few dozen minutes, I even knew clearly what seasonings his mother used when cooking and what ti the old man next door watered his plants every morning.
Truly exaggerated.
Fortunately, before I completely lost myself in the halfling's topics that were as endless as the stars in the sky.
The caravan captain "Jeff," that plain-spoken fellow.
Carrying a large bowl of stewed at, ca to the adventurers' temporary camp.
He ca to discuss tomorrow's itinerary and subsequent arrangents.
"At the latest by tomorrow morning, we'll reach Karanfor. If you all have ti then, I'll find a tavern and treat everyone to a al as a reward for the hard work along the way."
"Actually, if we're in a hurry, traveling through the night isn't impossible. After all, we're already very close to town now, so there basically won't be any danger."
"But to be safe, we should still..."
Ring ring ring—
Trap triggered!
The urgent and loud ringing instantly interrupted Jeff's words.
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