Ice Vapor Goddess

Chapter 14 A New Day

"Did he do that?" Ryan stubbed out his cigar in the silver ashtray.

"Yes, Your Excellency, our spies were in the crowd and witnessed the whole thing," the soldier said.

"He dismantled the cathedral chairs to provide warmth for people, gave the gold collar button to the boy who made the suggestion, had women step forward to help him record the believers' information and wealth, rejected accusations of witchcraft, and even cured people's frostbite..."

"Now we can say that everyone is his faithful follower."

Raine smiled, a laugh that sent a chill down the spine of the soldier.

“Isn’t it ridiculous?” Ryan lit a new cigar. “We stabilized the situation, we gathered the refugees, we provided food, shelter and refuge, we did so much, but all we get in return is people’s resentment, while those charlatans only need to shout the name of God to make people weep and give willingly.”

"What did he do? Sing a few prayers? The people in the cathedral won't remember that we brought them into the city; they'll only remember the lies of that clown under the cross."

"Isn't that ridiculous?" Renn stubbed out the cigar he had just lit.

"Governor...Governor..."

"I remember he brought a rune craftsman with him?"

“Uh, yes, let me see…” The soldier quickly flipped through the documents. “Eldridge Kain, a Florentine, was awarded the Order of the Mountains and was a Level 3 Runemaster. For some reason, he later went into seclusion in Lundinia and was recently transferred to Speyside as the Chief Engineer of the Rune Department.”

Ryan hooked his left hand fingers together and unconsciously tapped the table with his large knuckles, one tap after another, in the silent, smoke-filled room.

After a long pause, he said, "Let Schneider go and talk to that charlatan. We can make some concessions, but the runemaster must be in our hands."

"Yes."

------

Sunlight streamed through the cathedral's stained-glass windows, casting dreamlike golden light that shone on people's weary faces and on the busy figures of Xilun.

He woke up early in the morning. Since he transmigrated here, he hadn't had a good night's sleep. Memories, death, apocalypse, cold... countless disasters rushed towards him.

People relied on him for comfort, but he was all alone.

He left through the small door of the church. The dark clouds of yesterday had largely dissipated, revealing a gentle sun. The light shone on the thick snow, reflecting a hopeful glow, as if everything had passed and things would be alright.

But the ice-blue "moon" still hung in the sky, the sun's rays had no warmth, and the thermometer next to me showed that the temperature had dropped to minus twenty degrees Celsius.

Xiren sighed and cast Holy Light on himself.

According to his research over the past two days, the effect of Holy Healing is not only to treat wounds, but also to "try to adjust a person's state to its best." Therefore, drowsiness, fatigue, and the aftereffects of staying up late are also considered targets of Holy Healing.

He slept for five hours on the cold ground yesterday and got up, so tired that he couldn't lift a finger. After the Holy Healing, he was not immediately refreshed, but he was just so-so.

As for the consumption of divine spells, according to Xilun's estimates over the past few days, all his divine sense can be used to cast Holy Heal fourteen times, and the divine sense consumed by one Holy Heal can be fully restored after three hours of rest.

Moreover, since the addition of 176 new believers yesterday, he has clearly felt that both the total number and the recovery speed have become faster.

“Even after time-traveling, I still can’t live without an iced Americano…” Siren chuckled self-deprecatingly, turned around, and saw that two guards had also gotten up, followed by a hunched-over, furtive Joseph. “Sir,” Logan said sternly, “Father Joseph says he wants to see you.”

"Understood." Xiren nodded gently. "I was just about to come find you."

Father Joseph rubbed his hands together, his face showing a mixture of obsequiousness, mourning, and guilt. He grabbed Siron's hand and said, "Your Excellency, in the name of the Father, tell me the truth: when did you receive your bishop's appointment?"

“Three days ago.” Xilun looked at him with amusement.

Father Joseph's face showed a complex expression, then he bowed his head and made the sign of the cross: "Please forgive me—I saw them building Speyside Cathedral and wanted to wait here for the new bishop, to make an impression. I abandoned my parish, I thought it was for you..."

Xilun looked at him with a smile: "You should have realized it yesterday, right? You found that I was completely unfamiliar with this place and must have been temporarily appointed, but you didn't say anything because you wanted to see what kind of person I was."

Joseph was sweating profusely.

“If I were a scoundrel bishop who only cared about his own pleasure, then you wouldn’t need to apologize, and I would most likely forgive your opportunistic behavior because you’re a good dog. But you’ve seen me take care of the common people and care for the poor, so you guess I’m definitely disgusted by your abandonment of the parish, so you’ve come to repent.”

"Your Excellency Bishop... Your Excellency Bishop... For the sake of the Father..."

“I’ve read all the church scriptures, but none of them tell me that the Father would forgive your behavior.” Siron pulled his hand away; his right hand, which Joseph had gripped, was sticky and sweaty.

Joseph looked terrified, but Siren felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that such a scoundrel might fawn over his superiors, but when cornered, he would be far more resentful than others.

However, Xilun's conversation with him wasn't meant to corner him.

“But you can make amends,” Siron said. “Prove your piety and repentance to me and to God through your actions.”

Joseph breathed a sigh of relief and flashed his usual obsequious smile, his wrinkled face contorted in pain.

Xilun gave him a deep look and sighed inwardly.

What he saw was a person wearing a mask, a person whose mask had become one with him.

No one is born with a fawning attitude, let alone such a humble one; one must have experienced some kind of psychological trauma.

“Priest Joseph,” Sirren used the more formal term, “you need not worry. Whatever you’ve been through before, I can assure you that working for me is far better than working for some bastard.”

Joseph didn't speak, but simply lowered his head silently.

But his fists were clenched so tightly that his nails almost dug into his flesh.

"How could you possibly know what I've been through!" he roared inwardly, but his face maintained that stiff, distorted smile.

Xilun didn't continue speaking; people's thoughts can't be changed in a few words. Instead, he asked, "Tell me about this place."

Joseph took a few deep breaths: "As you wish."

(End of this chapter)