‘If it’s Brightstone… then it’s not strange. Moonstone is even more precious than Purple Fluorite… Why is the Pope willing to give such a precious thing to ordinary people?’
“The Pope’s great power,” Lutherch said succinctly.
The Church was currently severely lacking in both high-end and low-level combat power.
Lutherch had to find a way to create an illusion of strength to make outsiders wary, or at least give them pause.
Fagreim sighed silently and looked at Lutherch seriously.
“Noble Sage Lutherch, the strength the Church has shown and its future prospects are admirable. On behalf of the Voltkhan Tribe of the Dwarf Tribe, I hope to engage in deep cooperation and trade with the Church.”
Although the Strange Crystal didn’t look like much, Fagreim quickly had an idea for its use.
Pollutants usually had side effects, but the ‘Strange’ only had Corruption…
Most importantly…
As he thought, Fagreim’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward the goat milk in Theodore’s hands.
A faint glint flashed through Lutherch’s deep eyes.
This was exactly what he wanted.
The Dwarf Tribe’s forging techniques and knowledge of mineral veins were the Church’s most urgent needs.
Furthermore, the construction of the Cathedral and the Holy City required the Dwarves’ help.
Without them, a Wonder-class building could never be completed.
His old but still powerful hand gently stroked the Shepherd’s Staff as he spoke softly, a hint of fatigue in his voice.
“Of course, I also hope to engage in deep cooperation with the Voltkhan Tribe, but the specifics must be decided by His Holiness. Why not rest at the Mage Tower while you wait for His Holiness to arrive?”
‘The Pope is coming!?’
‘That’s right… for something like this, only the true ruler of the Church would suffice.’
Fagreim’s heart sank slightly, a mixture of anticipation and fear.
In this group, Theodore was the most unreliable, Barak was a fool who didn’t know how to read the room, and Marcus was merely average.
The weight of the face-to-face negotiations would fall on him…
At the thought of meeting the legendary Pope, Fagreim couldn’t help but feel nervous.
“Alright.”
After Fagreim answered, the side door was immediately opened by a knight.
Lutherch smiled and led them inside.
Fagreim took the chance to lean in toward Theodore and asked in a low voice, “Theodore, have you met His Holiness the Pope of the Light Church before?”
Drinking the last drop of goat milk, leaving Barak and Marcus with faces full of envy, Theodore finally turned her gaze to Fagreim.
“I have… why?”
Seeing Fagreim’s solemn expression, Theodore was momentarily confused.
“What kind of person is His Holiness…”
Fagreim asked quietly after pulling Theodore to the back of the group.
He had to prepare in advance; he couldn’t let the negotiations fail because of his own mistakes.
The mission given by the Great Artisan God clearly stated that if it were true, they must do their best to establish a good relationship.
Hearing Fagreim’s words, Theodore realized what he was worried about.
She smiled and patted his shoulder comfortingly.
“Don’t worry, His Holiness is a very good person. Besides, there’s a very easygoing big sister by his side!”
Theodore’s voice was quite loud.
Before Fagreim could react, Lutherch, walking at the front, tightened his grip on the Shepherd’s Staff.
Hearing Theodore’s evaluation, Lutherch almost spat out a mouthful of blood.
‘That woman, Qiansitelin, was easygoing? A nice big sister? Did she mean the constant sarcasm or her old habit of using her fists at the slightest provocation?’
It could be said that in his entire life, Lutherch feared the Great Artisan God’s fists and the blame Qiansitelin would inexplicably pin on him more than anything else.
“Is there nothing I should watch out for?” Fagreim asked hesitantly.
It was impossible to ignore etiquette just because the person was nice.
Interactions between tribes were incredibly troublesome.
One wrong move and others would point fingers, calling them uncultured or interpreting it as a declaration of war.
“Not really. His Holiness… probably doesn’t care?”
Seeing Theodore’s uncertain look, Fagreim rubbed his forehead helplessly.
‘Indeed, I shouldn’t have pinned my hopes on her. After all, the Great Artisan God has been hitting Theodore for nearly sixteen years, yet she still hasn’t learned her lesson.’
“Just speak to His Holiness normally when the time comes. He really doesn’t care much for formalities, so there’s no need to worry.”
Feeling Fagreim’s gaze, Lutherch turned around and saw the hesitant, conflicted expression on the dwarf’s face.
He laughed.
He hadn’t expected this to intimidate Fagreim so much.
Indeed, anyone would feel nervous when a person described and imagined as peerless and powerful was about to appear before them.
Soon, Lutherch led Theodore and the other three to the wall of the Mage Tower.
Since the tower was far from the residential area of the stronghold, there weren’t many people around, which made it convenient to host the four dwarves.
Inside the wall, the first thing they saw was the apprentice registration hall and the living quarters.
Further away was a vast, fenced-off meadow reserved for Mosen to graze his sheep.
It could be said that the Mage Tower occupied almost all the important areas of the current large stronghold.
The small strongholds outside were prepared for expansion, so they didn’t have to worry about running out of space as the population grew.
Leading the four into the conference hall, Lutherch sat at one end of the long table, while Theodore and the others sat on the other side.
The moment they sat down, the air fell silent.
Fagreim and Marcus exchanged glances, both seeing the nervousness in each other’s eyes.
Aside from Theodore, Fagreim, Marcus, and Barak all felt an instinctive awe toward the upcoming Pope.
Tension was inevitable.
Sensing the tension, Lutherch knew he had to say something, so he tapped the Shepherd’s Staff against the bright floor.
“Coming immediately, Master.”
Hearing the sound of the staff, Mosen’s voice drifted in from nearby.
Soon, he entered the hall carrying four steaming cups.
The moment the cups crossed the threshold, a rich, warm, and almost tangible aroma rippled through the air like a stone dropped into a calm lake.
It instantly dispelled the silent tension, making the four dwarves swallow instinctively.
Looking at the dwarves before him, Lutherch’s nostrils flared slightly, a faint hint of nostalgia flashing in his eyes.
Mosen glanced at Lutherch, and after receiving a nod, he placed the cups before the four dwarves.
The goat milk inside was a soft, creamy white, with a thin layer of golden, glistening skin on the surface.
The rich aroma filled the entire room.
“Please, enjoy,” Lutherch said with a smile.
Theodore couldn’t wait any longer.
Even before Lutherch finished speaking, her hands eagerly grabbed the cup closest to her.
The temperature through the ceramic was just right, the warmth traveling from her palms to her heart.
She took a deep breath, letting the sweet, rich fragrance of the milk fill her lungs, her face showing an expression of pure, almost intoxicated happiness.
Although she had just had a cup, the taste of the milk was like a lingering, sweet dream.
Without further hesitation, she tilted her head back and drank in large gulps.
The warm milk slid down her throat, bringing a silky, smooth flow of heat.
The rich flavor exploded in her mouth with a subtle, perfect sweetness.
Theodore drank quickly and hungrily, as if she wanted to integrate this warmth into her very marrow.
A few drops of milk spilled from the corners of her mouth, which was curved in satisfaction.
She carelessly wiped them away with the back of her gloved hand and let out a content sigh.
“Phew — this is too good!”
Barak’s movements were only a few seconds behind Theodore’s.
He carefully held the cup, his motions a bit clumsy.
It had been far too long since he last drank goat milk!
He sniffed it greedily, as if trying to engrave the scent into his soul.
Then, he took a tentative sip.
The moment the milk entered his mouth, his small eyes widened, and an unbelievable light flashed in his pupils.
The warm, mellow liquid, carrying a sun-like warmth, instantly awakened memories hidden deep in his mind.
When had he started becoming so full of schemes? He wasn’t sure, but he remembered his once-innocent fantasies for the future and his persistence in pursuing the light.
Looking at the milk with a slight sense of apology, he stopped sipping and followed Theodore’s example, gulping it down.
It was as if by doing so, he could clear the haze in his heart and return to his former self…
Watching them enjoy the milk, Lutherch smiled.
Indeed, compared to their massive reserves of alcohol, this fresh milk was far more popular with the dwarves.
Fresh milk couldn’t be stored long, so they rarely had the chance to drink it.
The only source for the Voltkhan Tribe was likely a single sheep he had lost a long time ago.
Theodore soon finished her milk and licked her lips, looking eagerly at the cups in the other three’s hands.
Immediately, Fagreim and the others acted as if they were facing a great enemy, instinctively shielding their cups.
“Don’t worry, there’s more here,” Lutherch chuckled.
Before they could say anything, Mosen, who had just left, returned.
“Master, His Holiness has arrived.”
The moment he heard “His Holiness has arrived,” Fagreim forgot about the milk.
He instinctively sat up straight and looked toward the door with an uneasy expression.