Chapter 46: Old John and Gregor

Considering the heavy task of spreading the faith and the potential resistance that might arise,

Colin agreed.

“Very well.”

“Then I’ll have to trouble Captain Reed and Brother Daniels.”

Oak Fort.

It stood upon the high ground in the center of the town, built of massive gray-white stones, crouching in the dusk like a slumbering beast.

Passing through the heavily guarded courtyard,

Colin and his group, led by the butler, entered the castle’s warm and brightly lit main hall.

Inside the hall,

Old John was not seated on the high main seat, but stood by the fireplace.

He was of short stature and somewhat plump, wearing a comfortable deep-brown velvet robe.

His thin, graying hair was carefully combed, not a strand out of place.

When he saw Daniels among the group,

Old John was clearly surprised, then revealed a sincere smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Daniels, Knight of the Rock?”

“Oh~ by the gods, it really is you! I thought you had long retired…”

“Your information is correct, Lord John.”

Daniels slightly bowed, his tone steady. “I did retire, but by the grace of the Angel, I have now found a home in Holy Light Town.”

“Holy Light Town… ah, that miraculous place in Mistwood?”

Old John’s gaze immediately shifted to Colin, his curiosity and scrutiny plain to see.

“I presume this is Priest Colin Gilbert, yes?”

“I’ve long heard of your name!”

“Recently, many mercenaries have been spreading word of your wisdom and foresight — I’ve heard some of it myself.”

“And the continuous sale of holy water has caused quite a stir in my Oak Town as well.”

“The Baron flatters me,” Colin placed his right hand upon his chest, performing a standard priestly salute, his manner neither humble nor arrogant.

“The holy water is a gift bestowed by the Angel. We merely keep and share it on their behalf.”

“This time, I have come hoping to spread the mercy and protection of the Holy Light among the faithful of Oak Town.”

The smile on Old John’s face grew even broader.

Just as he was about to speak, a cold and arrogant voice suddenly interrupted from the shadows on the other side of the hall.

“Angel? Gift?”

“Heh, what grand words!”

A tall, thin man stepped out, dressed in a lavish deep-purple robe embroidered with gold.

His face was gaunt, his chin slightly raised, and his eyes carried the lofty disdain of one who saw others as beneath him.

Even now, when he had lost his territory and lived under another’s roof,

Baron Gregor Wells still bore the haughty, imperious air of an old noble house — not the slightest bit diminished.

“John, since when have you taken interest in such countryside trickery?”

Gregor walked to Old John’s side, his sharp gaze falling upon Colin’s plain priest robes.

Ever since the day his territory had fallen, and those priests and clerics who had taken much of his donations fled faster than he did,

Gregor had come to despise these people who spoke constantly of the Lord!

“Hmph!”

“A ‘priest’ who crawled out of some backwater corner, waving a bottle of water mixed with who-knows-what alchemical powder, dares to call it a miracle?”

“An angel’s blessing, is it? The Holy Light Church has barely been in ruins for a few years, and these charlatans are already crawling back out?”

He sneered, turning to Colin.

His tone was full of provocation: “Tell me, Priest — what does your angel look like?”

“Does it have four wings? Or does its whole body shine with golden light~?”

“Besides giving you a bit of holy water, what else can it do? Can it repel the Undead Scourge? Or perhaps resurrect the dead? Hmm?”

At those words, the atmosphere in the hall dropped to freezing.

Reed’s expression darkened, and Daniels’ large hand went straight to the hilt of his sword.

He did not mind cutting down this blasphemous fool —even if that fool was a noble!

Old John frowned and raised a hand, seemingly wanting to ease the tension, but Gregor’s overbearing manner left him no opening to speak.

And as a shrewd, experienced noble himself, a part of him was also curious — perhaps letting Gregor test the truth of their claims would not be a bad thing.

Colin, in contrast, remained perfectly calm.

He quietly pressed down Daniels’ hand, signaling him not to act rashly — and certainly not to intimidate Gregor, this man suffering from a severe case of “noble’s pride.”

Colin had lived in Florence for a long time, and had barely escaped with his life in the end.

He understood very well what kind of man Gregor was — one who valued face above all else.

Before commoners, he would rather put on a show of pride than yield an inch.

Unless—he could truly shock the other party!

Shatter their ingrained perception!

Thus, Colin quietly endured Gregor’s harsh scrutiny and questioning, his gaze calm behind the lenses of his glasses.

He did not allow anger to take hold from the insults. Instead, he slowly raised his right hand.

No chanting. No complex gestures.

Only a pure, gentle light—a milky-white halo infused with the radiance of life’s very essence—quietly bloomed from his palm.

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