Chapter 355: A New Sanctuary

When High Lord Gawain saw Priest Leight standing at the door, his first reaction was surprise—this clergyman rarely came to see him.

Gawain usually kept a casual eye on Leight’s movements. After all, he was the only missionary in the territory, effectively the extension of the Holy Light Church within the Cecil domain. Although Leight’s style was a bit unconventional, his connection to the Church alone warranted Gawain’s attention. After some time observing him, Gawain realized that Leight was actually a devout traditionalist—his daily routine revolved almost entirely around the church: morning prayers, blessing holy water, hosting worshippers who came to pray, handing out sweet biscuits (though rarely successfully), and in the afternoons, preaching in town. His sermons were practical—helping households with chores while extolling the benefits of closeness to the Holy Light, like easing aches and pains. Over several months, he had managed to gather a modest flock.

Beyond that, Leight had no other activities. His few trips outside town were either to assist injured workers at construction sites or to improve the workers’ meals by hunting bears in the western forest. Those days, the logging town buzzed with rumors of a giant roaming the woods, chasing bears across the hills.

Recalling these stories, Gawain’s lips twitched in amusement, but the nausea from his recent VR session quickly stiffened his expression back into seriousness—he barely managed to keep from vomiting. Fixing Leight with a calm gaze, he asked, “Mr. Leight, what brings you here?”

Leight, unaware of Gawain’s discomfort, immediately thought of the refugees recently taken in and the news surely reached the lord’s ears—that the Holy Light Church was pushing out heretical believers in the central region. Connecting these matters with his own position, he spoke up: “My lord, I have not come to ask you to expel those innocent people.”

Gawain blinked, caught off guard. “Ah?”

Leight’s face was grave. “Your expression is so serious—surely you are pondering the persecution of those heretics?”

Gawain thought to himself: his serious look was from VR sickness, not sympathy for heretics. But then he forced a smile, intrigued. “You mean the Blood God and Shadow cultists fleeing the Holy Spirit Plains… You mentioned ‘persecution.’ It sounds like you don’t agree with how your fellow churchmen there have acted?”

“I… I still can’t believe they’ve become so fanatical,” Leight said sadly, clenching his large fists. “From the exiles’ accounts, my intuition guided by the Holy Light tells me they are honest people, but… I still have doubts.”

“I’ve heard that divine magic enhancements have made it easier for new clergy to wield the Light’s power, so the old-fashioned strict adherence to classical virtues to earn the Light’s favor has fallen out of fashion. The Light has shifted from faith to technique. So I’m not surprised at all by the rapid corruption among the clergy in the central region—the most prosperous and thus the most prone to decay,” Gawain leaned back in his chair, eyes deep as he regarded Leight. “Of course, I understand your doubts and hesitation. After all, you share the same Holy Light doctrine, yet you are completely different from them.”

Leight hesitated briefly but, under Gawain’s steady gaze, revealed his purpose: “My lord, I wish to return and see for myself.”

“I thought as much,” Gawain said calmly. “Then who will manage your church in your absence?”

“That’s why I came to speak with you,” Leight nodded. “I promised the exiles they could always seek refuge at the church, but I can no longer resist the urge to return to the Holy Spirit Plains. I hope you can assign someone to oversee the church temporarily—no need for ceremonies, just keep it open and clean so worshippers have a place to pray. I’ve left enough talismans and holy water inside; I’ll return before they run out.”

With solemn respect, the priest bowed deeply. “I hope you will grant this somewhat bold request.”

Gawain couldn’t help but smile lightly at Leight’s earnestness. “The church’s operation is part of the domain’s affairs. Your willingness to entrust it to the administration shows your adaptation to Cecil law. I agree—you may leave with peace of mind.”

Leight bowed again. “Thank you for your understanding.”

Looking at the city’s sole priest—whose style oddly suited Gawain’s taste—he asked, “When do you plan to leave? Do you need an escort or any other assistance?”

“Thank you for your generosity. I’ll depart within two days but don’t require help,” Leight shook his head. “I came the way I’ll return, and some parishioners have pooled funds for my travel. I can join a merchant caravan.”

Gawain pulled a blank document from a stack nearby and quickly wrote on it, then stamped it with the seal of Duke Cecil. “Go to the commercial district and find the clerk there. A caravan leaves for the Holy Spirit Plains the day after tomorrow. This is your travel pass.”

Leight accepted the document, bowed in thanks, and prepared to leave. But just as he reached the door, Gawain called him back.

“The Cecil domain welcomes persecuted believers of all sects who can prove their innocence,” Gawain said, meeting Leight’s eyes. “As long as they abide by our faith regulations and obey the laws of this land, even the exiled can find sanctuary here. Can you accept that?”

Leight hesitated almost not at all. “It is only right—protecting the innocent is also a tenet of the Holy Light.”

But then a shadow crossed his face. “However, my lord… you must understand that openly and massively accepting exiles will greatly provoke the Holy Light Church. Though you have taken in a small group of refugees, that can still be disguised as accepting displaced people. But large-scale acceptance of exiles is an entirely different matter.”

“I know that well enough,” Gawain replied evenly, the VR aftereffects fading. “But I don’t believe Cecil needs anyone’s permission to accept refugees. And I doubt those priests who expelled them will follow them here—unless those refugees truly are ‘followers of evil gods.’ The real reasons for their exile are surely well known to the priests who collected their penance.”

“Since you have made your decision, I will say no more.” Leight looked at Gawain’s face, swallowed all his objections, bowed deeply in the name of the Holy Light, and left the study.

After Leight’s departure, Amber’s figure gradually appeared by the window. The half-elf’s tone lifted with interest. “Though he’s a follower of the Holy Light… this Leight fellow is quite an interesting character.”

Gawain had sensed Amber’s arrival earlier, so he wasn’t surprised. He glanced sideways at the half-elf. “Did you put everything away?”

“All done, and I sealed the treasury door according to containment protocols,” Amber waved her hand. “By the way, what do you make of the recent changes in the Holy Light Church?”

“On the surface, it looks like they were provoked by cultist activities and responded with harsh ‘purification’,” Gawain hummed softly. “But in truth, it’s a calculated, justified expansion and annexation. Since the Sacred Covenant was established, the sects have maintained peace for seven centuries. But not everyone wants peace forever—and for mortal-founded sects, eternal peace is unlikely. Each church wants to grow, expand influence, and earn glory for their gods. But the number of potential believers and lands to evangelize is limited. Conflict is inevitable. I believe every sect secretly dreams of supremacy, but the Sacred Covenant has kept them in check. If an opportunity arises—”

“So the Holy Light Church just couldn’t resist, huh?” Amber curled her lips. “A pretty straightforward process. But honestly, aren’t you afraid of provoking those crazy priests? They’re a nightmare to deal with!”

Gawain smiled faintly, rising from his desk and walking over to the large map of the southern lands hanging on the wall.

“Let them provoke. This is the Southlands. The Cecil family may have declined, but before that, they ruled here for six centuries. The edict I left behind forbade the church from overstepping royal authority. Though my descendants failed, at least they enforced that rule well. The Southlands are not the Holy Light Church’s domain—or any church’s domain.”

Amber blinked, staring at Gawain for a few seconds before muttering, “So besides drunken nonsense with the king, you actually left behind some solid ancestral laws… But how did you come up with that edict? Did you foresee the church becoming a threat back then?”

“I… wasn’t that prescient,” Gawain said with a faint smile, but his mind drifted to the visions from the dream lantern—the leaders of the major sects donning spacesuits to seek the divine realm, the Holy Spirit Druids, Dream Church, and Storm Church falling into darkness, and finally the cult leader Selinagorfen. He sighed softly. “If you’d seen the chaos caused by the sudden fall of the three dark sects seven centuries ago, you’d understand why our kings and lords were so wary of uncontrolled church militias. Sadly, seven centuries later, the crown has stagnated, while the sects grow stronger every day—even the cults.”

Amber stood silently beside Gawain for a moment, then sighed too. “Sigh…”

“Why are you sighing now?”

“How should I know? I just sigh when you do.”

“…”

Not long after, as merchants from the Cecil Trading Company traveled far and wide and intelligence agents moved covertly, a new message quietly spread.

It began in the Southlands, then traveled northward, whispered among those displaced by penance payments, heresy trials, and forced conversions:

The Cecil domain is the “New Sanctuary”…

(End of chapter)