He… saw me?
Fei Bi’s heart raced with uncertainty, her cheeks growing hot as a wave of intense shame washed over her.
Even though he hadn’t cast a glance her way, she felt as if she were stark naked under a spotlight.
The swaying morning light spilled over the red bricks of the back alley.
Fei Bi suddenly wished she could become a withered autumn flower, left to rot unnoticed.
“Th… that… is…?”
Fei Bi stammered, her face burning red.
This embarrassed and guilty demeanor caught Haran’s attention.
He paused but still didn’t turn his head, though his expression inexplicably softened.
“First time? A newbie?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm…”
Fei Bi was on the verge of tears.
‘So he can see me! He can see me! A drunkard! How is that fair!’
In moments of shame, people tend to redirect their anger.
Just then, she first found fault with the standard of The Goddess’s New Clothes—how could someone as decayed as Haran be considered “upright and pure”?
If it had been a refreshing young man like the Hero who saw her naked… she might have been able to accept it a little.
Then she turned her anger toward the Hero himself—if only the Hero hadn’t been so inconsiderate, if only he had understood the nation’s difficulties, if only he hadn’t done all those unnecessary things, she wouldn’t be in this situation!
Fei Bi hung her head low, her delicate shoulders trembling and shrinking.
Just then—
“Huff—”
She suddenly felt something draped over her.
Snapping back to reality, she realized Haran had unfastened the large cape from behind his back and wrapped it around her, completely covering her body without a hint of exposure.
Haran said expressionlessly, “Head Nun Luo Yisi doesn’t decide your fate. You don’t have to follow everything she says.”
With that, he turned and left, leaving Fei Bi standing there dumbfounded, utterly at a loss.
At the training ground.
After thoroughly understanding the training methods of the Holy Knights, Joen followed Liya’s advice and began mingling and chatting with other knights, picking up details about the day-to-day operations of the Church.
“Ninety percent of an organization’s daily work is trivialities, and these trivialities often contain the core of how the organization operates,” Liya had said.
Joen felt that his little maid’s words made a lot of sense and were worth learning.
Among the Holy Knights, there were clear barriers and hierarchies.
Senior knights with high seniority and positions formed one circle; those who had been around four or five years and had established themselves were another; and newcomers like Joen were left with only the apprentice paladins willing to show enthusiasm.
After getting acquainted, Joen realized that these “Holy Knights” were not as honest, upright, or selfless as the Church advertised, but neither were they the scheming, malicious people he had negatively assumed.
They were ordinary people, much like the friends he had back home.
They talked about ordinary worries, ordinary ideals, ordinary loves and hates.
They gathered to complain about the bad food in the Church kitchen, griping that the General Affairs Nun’s cooking was getting worse.
From there, they moved on to which restaurant offered the best value; then to which shop owner’s wife was pretty; and finally, somehow, to which theater’s leading lady was most attractive.
“Of course it’s Miss Yi Fu Lin, the Empire’s Purple Rose. Her charm was recognized by the Royal Family—she even gave birth to a Prince’s illegitimate child!”
Joen’s eyelids twitched, because he vaguely remembered that Teacher Kobilio’s mother was named Yi Fu Lin.
The knight beside him, who was lifting a stone mill, immediately retorted, “Yi Fu Lin? Madam Yi Fu Lin is already fifty, almost your grandmother’s age. How can you still look at her?”
“None of your business! I grew up watching Miss Yi Fu Lin’s Daydream. In my eyes, she’s forever eighteen!”
“Go watch some new generation. The older ones only have decent acting skills. Their faces might be maintained with Magic, but they still carry that outdated aesthetic from the last era.”
“That’s called classic! I really… ugh… Joen, you judge. Do you prefer new generation or old generation?”
The two young Holy Knights, who had argued countless times, naturally turned to Joen, whom they had just gotten to know.
Joen opened his mouth and finally answered truthfully, “I’ve never seen a play.”
“No way? Not even a musical?”
“No… I’m from the countryside.”
The knight who preferred the new generation clicked his tongue.
“How rural does the countryside have to be that you’ve never seen a play?”
After being granted the title of Duke, Joen no longer felt sensitive about his humble origins.
“Maybe more rural than you imagine,” Joen shrugged.
By the time the morning lesson was almost over, Chief Commander Haran only showed up for a brief moment.
“Those with missions, go patrol. Those without, train freely.”
But despite his words, most of the knights left the training ground to do their own things.
Some might go chat with the nuns at the Charity Hall about art and philosophy; others might go back for a small nap.
Only a few remained to train seriously.
“Let’s go, Joen. We’ll take you somewhere fun.”
The two buddies Joen had just gotten close to called him over.
“Oh.”
Joen glanced back at the training ground and noticed that Haran was still there, apparently instructing those willing to work hard, honing Divine Arts and martial skills.
He was tempted to learn a trick or two, but Joen knew that the most important task now was gathering information.
In the end, he walked toward those two unreliable companions.
“Where to?”
“The Polo Field… can you play polo?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then you’ll have to learn. Eighty percent of the high priests around here love this game. Even the aloof Commander Haran participates in the annual polo social.”
Joen picked up on an unusual nuance. “Does Commander Haran not get along with the other high priests?”
“Hmm… Commander Haran is like a stubborn mule. He can’t stand even a speck of dust in his eyes. I heard he used to work under the Cardinal, but somehow got demoted here.”
“No wonder he always looks unhappy. He reeked of alcohol this morning.”
Joen was deep in thought.
The morning passed quickly.
Though his attempts at prying were clumsy, the two guys were very talkative and unguarded, so Joen ended up collecting a lot of information—whether useful or not.
For example, Bishop Icot lived a lifestyle far beyond his income level.
Also, the approximate income levels and living conditions of everyone from apprentices to senior veterans in this church.
He also learned about the grudges among the high priests.
The most isolated and unpopular was Haran, but he was also the most trusted in terms of strength and character.
The “fellow rogues” said flatly: Usually, it’s best to stay away from the Commander to avoid trouble.
But if you ever encountered a problem you couldn’t solve, or if you were bullied, framed, or made a scapegoat, you should go to him immediately.
“Commander Haran sounds like a good person,” Joen sighed.
“Maybe,” the storyteller shrugged.
“But taking things too seriously can be annoying too, right? Who can guarantee they’ll never make a mistake in their life?”
Joen didn’t respond.
Just then, Bishop Icot sent a nun to fetch them, saying he had a mission to assign.
At the Bishop’s Office.
“Hehehe…”
Icot’s smile was meaningful.
“Joen, you’re in luck. Capturing and judging the Tong Mo Zhe is the best job in the church.”
“Shouldn’t it be the most dangerous?” Joen asked, puzzled.
But judging by the excitement on the faces of his two “senior apprentice” companions, it seemed to be so.
They looked as if they had found Gold.