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Chapter 89
Devosi Castle was noisy every single day.
It seemed that the noise had only gotten worse since the Baron woke up.
For some reason, priests and monks were shouting over each other, each refusing to be outdone.
Their arguments almost always centered around the value of the [Gospel of Marcus].
"Should the clergy really be fighting like this?"
Ŵ ẽb̃ ṅ о̌v е̄ l Е́ n̈ u̇mа
Bewildered, Ian asked a priest from Talian.
The Talian priest smiled awkwardly and responded, "It's a theological debate, so... it can't be helped."
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Fundamentally, monks are not supposed to debate with priests since priests hold greater authority in speech, being recognized by the 13 Saints for their sacramental acts.
Monks, on the other hand, are just overly enthusiastic about Heaven's Faith.
If priests are like professional clergy, monks might be considered amateur enthusiasts of Heaven's Faith.
That's the difference between a professional and an amateur.
Еn̂u ḿ а
However, this doesn't mean priests can always suppress monks outright.
Though not authorized to perform sacraments, monks also spend their lives practicing and living by the heavenly teachings.
Both sides are formidable, hence debates are inevitable.
"The priest is a leader, and the monk is a practitioner. It's not easy to say definitively who is right or wrong."
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In a way, priests are like fathers, tasked with teaching and leading their followers.
Conversely, monks are like elder sons, learning and growing on their own, living to put the teachings into practice.
Wе.b̊.ń_ӧ v̂ е̌ l Е n̆um̂ а̃
Imagine one day, the elder son brings a light novel titled [Is Saint Marcus Too Powerful?] and starts distributing it among children.
If the father yells, "Why do you like such a bad book?"
And the elder son retorts, "What do you know, Dad! You're just an old fogey!"—No, that's too dramatic.
Anyway, it's an unavoidable situation.
No matter how much priests detest the [Gospel of Marcus], they can't completely disregard the will of the monks.
'I knew it. If I stay any longer, I'm going to lose my mind.'
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Ian quickly decided it was time to cut ties.
Now, with nothing left to do, the only thing remaining was to leave the castle.
Suddenly, Takarion caused a big stir, making it awkward to leave, but now seemed like a good opportunity to sneak away.
"Kira, do you know where Belenka is?"
"Yeah, she was eating."
"Again? She just ate."
Ēṅú m_а̇. і̄ ḋ
After Lewis the werewolf wiped out all the dire wolves, the knights became unemployed overnight.
They all ended up becoming home security guards.
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Every day, just playing and eating...
Since the battle had just ended, there were no knights training.
The idle knights showcased their appetites at their daily feasts.
Belenka was caught up and trapped in this dining hell.
Е̃ n̈ǔ_m̆ а..і̄ d
"Anyway. These knights..."
Ian clicked his tongue as he thought about the foolish knights.
He wondered what eating a lot had to do with fighting well.
But since knights believe it's disastrous to be looked down upon, they stake their lives on trivial things like 'eating a lot.'
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"Let's go. Let's take Belenka and go see the Baron."
"Ah, okay. But we might need to wait until the banquet is over..."
W еb̃ n ov̂ е́l̆ Е̊ ňu m̊ а̄
"Never mind. Just sneak her out, whatever."
Ian headed to the castle's dining hall.
The dining hall was bustling with the knights' gathering.
"Belenka, did you eat a lot?"
"...Ian?"
As soon as Ian arrived at the dining hall, he spotted Belenka.
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Her eyes half-closed as she devoured a mountain of meat.
Somehow, seeing her stuffing herself with meat, he didn't feel the slightest bit envious.
"Oh! Lord Ian! You've come to visit!"
"Come on! Take a seat! Hey! Bring over a glass!"
The knights quickly made space for Ian, warmly welcoming him.
"And Lady Kira to the seat..."
Е̊ñu m ă . і d
"I'm fine. I'm managing my figure."
As Kira gave a slight smile, the knight backed off with a goofy expression.
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Then, turning back with a poker face, Kira proved once again to be a master of expression acting.
"Managing my figure..."
Belenka's expression turned gloomier.
She was blessed with a body that didn't easily gain weight, but even that has its limits; daily binge eating inevitably leads to weight gain.
Е̃n̈ ū.m̆â
Yet, flatly refusing to attend feasts was problematic due to the importance of maintaining relationships as a knight...
That's when it happened.
"Argh!"
At the unexpected scream, Belenka turned her head.
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In a public dining hall, there was only one person who could make such a scene.
"These crazy bastards! Are they trying to assassinate me now? Larabel! Did Larabel put you up to this!"
Еn um а . і̌d̂
"No, why are you saying that? All of a sudden?"
"Are you guys actually eating this! You call this meat!"
It was none other than Ian Eredith Raven.
Ian, who had picked up the meat with his hands, soon shuddered as he experienced the torment of hell.
Ah! This stench! This texture!
What the hell are these bastards eating!!!
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"Ahaha! That was pig testicles. It's good for virility!"
"Ugh!"
Not all meat is the same.
The meat that the knights were gorging on at the feast was offal, fresh from the slaughter.
After days of marathon feasting, all the good cuts were gone!
So they were thriftily grilling and eating even the less favored parts...
Ĕ n u m а̀
Ian just happened to join them at that moment.
"Quick, drink some alcohol. It'll get rid of the stench."
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Ian guzzled down beer in a frenzy.
Then, after belching—
The smell of pig urine came up his throat.
Ian felt like he was going to pass out.
E n̆ u m̃ а̃
"The stench is disappearing? What’s disappearing!"
"It will disappear. After about 10 more drinks..."
Ah. He meant consciousness would disappear.
The cause of the smell? The brain that receives olfactory signals.
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If you incapacitate the brain, the stench disappears too!
'Stupid knights...!'
E ń.u m à .і̃ d̄
Unable to stand it any longer, Ian resorted to his secret weapon.
Chili powder.
Spiciness has a magical way of making even the worst meat somewhat tasty.
This is a fact proven by the [Gospel of Pork Belly].
Ian shoved a heap of chili-covered pig skin into his mouth.
At last, relief. Comfort.
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A peaceful smile played around Ian's lips.
Yes. This is what food should be like.
"What did you just eat?"
The knights, curious about Ian’s strange reaction, approached him.
"It's chili powder, it’s spicy. It might even make you cry."
It's no joke.
Ѐn̂u_m а̀. і̆ d
Naive northerners might cry like girls if they eat peppers.
"Hahaha! That's too much of a joke! How could a brave knight cry over food..."
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The knight scooped up a handful of chili powder, sprinkled it on the meat, and shoved it into his mouth.
Ian didn’t even have time to stop him.
"No, you sprinkled way too much..."
"Argh!"
W̊ ѐbn оv̈е̌l Е.nǔ.m̂.а̇
"...Even I can’t eat it like that."
The knight was bawling his eyes out.
He cried like a girl.
"Water... some water, please...!"
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Buzzing.
The feast-going knights crowded around Ian.
W е̌b ñо̂v̀ ѐ l Е n ùma
They came wondering what the commotion was about, and oh boy.
It was a total mess.
A knight bawling his eyes out and Ian, looking at him sympathetically.
"What's the matter! What’s going on!"
"Show me what you saw!"
As their comrade was dying, laughter bloomed on the knights’ faces.
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In these stimulation-starved medieval times, even such events were dopamine parties.
Hahaha! Look over there! A knight crying over food?!
Super fun.
This is what a festival, a banquet is.
"He cried after eating this?"
"No way! That can't be!"
Enu m̂â
"Let me try it... Argh!"
"How can this be so... Argh!"
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The knights, one after another, ate Ian's chili powder, screamed, and rolled on the floor.
After laughing uproariously at each other, it was now their turn to cry and wail.
"Help me..."
"Water, please..."
Ӗ nü.m̂a . і̆ ď
Ian watched the chaos unfold in the banquet hall and chuckled.
He hadn’t intended it, but the banquet was effectively over.
"Belenka. Let's slowly head out."
Belenka sniffled.
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What’s this? Did she eat some chili powder too?
"No need to use precious magic ingredients on my account..."
Е ń um̆ а̌. īd
Belenka quickly realized why Ian had turned the banquet into chaos.
Right... it was to rescue Belenka from the dining hell! (not).
"I owe you again."
All this over a bit of chili powder.
Though it was a pity to waste the chili powder, it was, after all, just food.
Having seen an amusing spectacle, he was fairly satisfied.
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"Alright, let’s say that’s the case, and go see the Baron."
***
Baron Devosi, having risen from his sickbed, was doing very well, both eating and living well.
The castle had fallen into chaos entirely because the Baron had been bedridden.
Now that the Baron was healthy, there was no reason for such chaos.
Lady Serena and Lady Catherine had reconciled and were getting along fairly well.
Е̊ n.ū m а̂. і̊ d
Well, with the Baron glaring sharply, there really wasn't a way for them not to reconcile.
"Welcome, Lord Ian."
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Baron Devosi couldn't help but smile whenever he saw Ian.
Not content with having chased away the wizard who had thrown the castle into chaos, Ian had also saved the Baron's life.
Human greed knows no bounds; the Baron even started fantasizing about how great it would be if Ian married his daughter and settled down in the castle.
Ah! I want a wizard son-in-law!
Ѐn u m̈ ǎ. і̄ d̀
"I'm glad to see you're doing well."
"Ha-ha! It’s all thanks to your good care."
Ian was checking the Baron's health for the last time, just in case there were any unforeseen complications.
However, after monitoring him for over a week, no problems were found.
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"It's good to see you healthy. So, I was thinking about hitting the road..."
"Ugh, suddenly my stomach..."
Ẅ.е b̌ n о́v̊ е́l Е n um а
"Don't bullsh*t me, your excellency."
Ian’s remark made the Baron chuckle.
Being openly rude to nobility was one of the privileges of being a wizard.
"So, you're finally leaving. After setting my daughter's heart aflame."
"Me?"
Ian, recalling Lady Serena's daughter, Manet, cocked his head.
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While he had been staying at the castle, Manet had followed him around.
But beyond following him, she hadn't really done anything else.
"She often says how impressive your magic is."
"Um. I guess I am quite impressive."
Kira nodded slightly, her earlobes turning red, while Belenka looked at Ian with an incredulous expression.
"Ha-ha! You really are entertaining! So, how about becoming our castle's wizard..."
Ë ǹ u m а ._і d
"I'll have to decline."
"Listen to the end before you respond! If you stay, I would give you my daughter’s hand in marriage..."
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"I'm glad I declined in advance."
"You really aren't interested in Manet. She's such a beautiful girl."
The Baron stopped joking. From how unswayed Ian was, it was clear how resolute he was.
"I’ve spoken to Galadin. I’ve set aside some travel funds for you, pick them up when you leave."
Wē b̄ ň òv̌ е̄ ĺ Е n̄úm̄_а́
"Thank you, Baron."
Lady Serena and Lady Catherine also chimed in.
"We've each added a little something to it."
"I'll pray only good things come your way."
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Ian bid them farewell with a cheerful heart.
"Well then, I’ll be off..."
Е̄ n̂ um ӑ
Just as Ian was about to leave the Baron’s room, he hesitated upon spotting a peculiar object.
On the table was something he hadn't seen before, yet it strangely drew him in.
"Baron, what is this?"
The Baron naturally picked it up and handed it to Ian.
"It’s a relic that Takarion brought."
"A relic?"
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A relic. Literally, a sacred object.
However, being sacred didn’t necessarily mean it held any magical power.
Anything associated with a saint was called a relic.
A spoon used by a saint? A relic.
Clothes worn by a saint? A relic.
A saint's hair? A relic.
Е̃ň ů m̃ а̀. і d̄
Of course, using a spoon a saint had used wouldn't grant the power to exorcise demons. A spoon is just a spoon.
Most relics were just antiques.
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But sometimes, very rarely, an object truly imbued with the mysteries of the heavens would be called a relic.
With mild curiosity, Ian examined the relic.
"It looks like an ostrich egg."
"What kind of egg?"
Еnü_m̆ ӑ
"Oh, a monster egg."
The ‘relic’ that Takarion had brought was white, round, and light.
Too light to be a monster's egg, it seemed more like a hollow stone.
"Be careful. If it falls and breaks, even I can't make excuses for you."
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"I'll be as careful as I can."
Ian responded indifferently as he inspected the relic.
Wеb̊ nо̂v̈е́l Ѐ nǔ mа́
He wasn’t a fool.
Why would he carelessly handle such an expensive-looking item and risk breaking it?
'I feel like... there's something about it...'
Ian examined the relic from all angles, his intuition, honed from his studies of mysteries, suggesting there was more to this simple white stone.
That's when it happened.
[...release me.]
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"???"
[...please send me back.]
It wasn't his imagination.
Ian heard a voice.
Crack!
"No, Lord Ian!"
Е̄n u m а̇
"Takarion's relic!"
"...Huh?"
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Cracks spread across the surface of the 'relic.'
Suddenly, a bird-like head squeezed through the cracks and popped out.
"Peep?"
"..."
Е̂ n̂u̇ ṁ а̂ .іd
"..."
Both the Baron and his wife, as well as Ian's party, were momentarily speechless.
"Squawk, squawk!"
The bird-like head began to cry out.
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"Lord Ian! What in the world have you done!"
"No, Baron, you saw it! I didn't do anything!"
Ẇ е́ bn̊о̇ v̊еl Е n u ṁа
The room plunged into confusion.
It wasn’t just Ian's party that was confused.
"Wizard Ian has destroyed the relic!"
"No, that's not it! He's hatched the relic!"
"Wizard Ian has hatched the relic!"
The clergy were also thrown into disarray.
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"Is this a miracle?"
"A miracle of hatching?"
"Could it be! Was Wizard Ian a saint all along?"
Hearing the rumors, Takarion burst out of his room.
'A saint? A saint, really?'
Not him, Takarion, with the golden touch, but some wizard becomes a saint???
Ẁе ḃṅ о̌ṽӗ l Е n̆ ü m̂ a
'Impossible!'
Takarion immediately ran down the hallway, his belly jiggling.
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