Free Web NovelChapter 273: Chapter 273: THE UNREADABLE TRUTH
Rianor Sudrath awoke long before sunrise.
The rhythmic snoring of Roland still drifted from the adjacent mattress. Rianor slowly sat up. Instantly, every bruise from last night’s beating throbbed with a dull ache. Fortunately, no bones were broken.
He stepped out of the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him with utmost care, and walked down the dim corridor toward the washroom at the end of the hallway.
The water in the antique tin basin was ice-cold. Rianor stared at his reflection on the still surface. Swollen purple bruises stood out. A split eyebrow bore the crust of dried blood, and his lip was jaggedly cut.
Decidedly inelegant.
Rianor splashed his face with the freezing water. The biting chill helped numb the throbbing pain.
Elara must be holding up fine in the north, Rianor thought. His wife was a formidable woman. Yet, deep down, he wished he could transmit a long-range communication signal. Just a single, brief line: I’m alive. That would be more than enough.
Rianor stepped out of the washroom, intending to return to the bedroom, but he nearly collided with someone in the dimly lit corridor.
"Oh—Rianor? You’re... up this early?"
Eva stood frozen there. Her long, dark brown hair was tied loosely back, with stray locks framing her weary face. Her brown eyes were wide with surprise.
"I am accustomed to waking before dawn to maximize daily productivity," Rianor replied flatly, dabbing his face with a handkerchief. "And you?"
Eva pulled her threadbare coat tighter, hesitating for a moment. "To be honest... sleeping on this inn’s feather mattress made my back feel strange. I’ve slept on dry straw for years. It feels... too soft."
"Physical habits require an adaptation period," Rianor said evenly. "Do not overthink it."
Eva stared at his battered face, and slowly, a small, genuine, and slightly bashful smile graced her lips. "Alright then."
Roland Sudrath woke with a start, his bladder screaming for mercy.
Bleary-eyed, he stumbled out of bed, fumbled along the corridor walls with his eyes half-closed, and managed to find the washroom. Emergency resolved. He emerged, rubbing his eyes to clear the sleep from his vision.
But his gaze froze instantly when he caught two silhouettes standing close together in the dim hallway.
Rianor and Eva. Alone. In a quiet corridor at the crack of dawn.
Roland stopped rubbing his eyes. They shot wide open.
Oh, boy. Is my brother cheating on Elara? This is a family diplomatic crisis in the making.
Roland sauntered over, leaning his shoulder against the wooden wall. The annoying, mischievous smirk he usually reserved for teasing pompous nobles spread across his groggy face. "Well, good morning, you two. Up so early. Together. In a cramped corridor. Quite an interesting natural phenomenon to note."
Rianor shot his brother a flat look. "Your breath is foul, Roland."
"Oh, my mouth is perfectly fine, Brother. The ones who actually require close attention are you two," Roland threw a playful wink at Eva—who instantly grew flustered and averted her blushing face—before turning back to Rianor. He leaned in and whispered in a chilling, deathly quiet tone: "Red hair. Don’t you dare forget."
Before Rianor could even formulate a retort, Roland had already slipped back into the bedroom with a smug grin.
Eva stared blankly at the closed door. "Your brother... does he always act this insufferable in the morning?"
"Always," Rianor replied curtly. "And the symptoms only worsen with age."
Inside the bedroom, Roland dropped onto the edge of the mattress. Rianor followed him in, clicking the door shut.
"I’ll bring back that Travel Pass before noon," Roland said, not looking at Rianor.
Rianor watched his brother. "Very well. May the probability of luck be in your favor."
Roland let out a soft chuckle. "The diplomatic battlefield today is bound to be steep."
"I know," Rianor placed a hand on Roland’s shoulder. "But I know even better that you will find a way."
The common area on the ground floor of the inn was still devoid of patrons when Roland descended. Adul, Naya, and Orva were already seated around the dining table, looking awake. Eva sat at a distance near the corner of the bar, still appearing awkward in her new role.
Roland snatched a piece of warm wheat bread from the table, choosing to remain standing. "I’m heading up to the Sanctum Cathedral. Alone."
Dom’s gaze sharpened instantly. "I’ll escort you, My Lord."
"No, Dom. I must go alone," Roland said, taking a bite of the bread. "Appearing unarmed and without a shield sends a psychological signal that I have no hostile intent."
Dom clenched his jaw. He didn’t argue verbally, but the rigid tension in his eyes made it clear he despised the high-risk decision.
Rianor, who had just descended the stairs, stared straight into Roland’s eyes. No words were exchanged. None were needed. Only a silent, microscopic nod passed between them, carrying a mountain of calculated trust.
Roland glanced briefly at Eva, then walked resolutely toward the front door. "I’ll be back before the midday bells toll. With our Travel Pass."
Sanctum’s cobblestone streets were beginning to pulse with the morning rush as Roland climbed the hill.
Processions of pilgrims in pristine white robes crept slowly along. Pushcarts belonging to vegetable merchants rolled by in tandem. Grey-robed shrine guards stood like statues at every intersection. Roland’s mind was entirely locked on the interior of the Cathedral looming above.
What opening line should I use to breach his defenses?
Roland stopped directly in front of the colossal oak doors of the Sanctum Cathedral. He took one deep breath, exhaled slowly, and pushed the heavy wood open.
The atmosphere inside was as chilly and majestic as yesterday.
Pastor Marius was already standing there. He stood rigidly with his back to Roland, directly in front of the Goddess statue. His pitch-black cassock contrasted sharply with the vibrant colors cast by the surrounding stained-glass windows.
"You step into this room once more," Marius spoke without turning around.
"The Head Pastor must have anticipated my return," Roland replied, maintaining a calm, even pace.
"Honestly, I was hoping you would choose to flee last night," Marius turned around slowly. His stormy grey eyes locked onto Roland. "Your presence triggers my curiosity, Roland. And curiosity is a highly uncomfortable state for my soul."
Roland chose to remain silent, standing tall without projecting a trace of fear.
"I recently received an intriguing report of a bloody skirmish in the abandoned warehouse district last night," Marius said, descending the altar steps to close the distance. "My instincts say you were deeply involved." frёewebnoѵēl.com
"My brother was illegally abducted and tortured by them underground, Pastor. Our actions were purely emergency protection to save our own family," Roland answered smoothly, without hesitation.
"Family..." Marius repeated the word with a subtle hint of mockery, as if weighing its value. "You are hiding a monumental secret."
"I don’t deny it."
"And strangely... you aren’t lying when you say that."
"Because I have no intention of lying to you."
Marius halted, standing exactly three paces in front of Roland. "Tell me. What is your group truly seeking in this kingdom?"
Roland stared directly into Marius’s grey eyes, his pupils completely steady. "We are simply travelers... searching for a truth."
"A truth? That is an incredibly abstract and common answer."
"Yet, it is the only truth I am legally capable of offering you right now."
A heavy silence blanketed the space between them once more.
"You are a remarkably peculiar human," Marius finally said, the tension in his face relaxing slightly. "You claim to search for the truth, yet you refuse to share that truth with me."
"Because there are some things in this world that, if voiced... would only bring ruin to us both."
Marius fell silent for a long moment, studying Roland. "Before I grant you this pass... there is one question that has always troubled my mind."
Roland waited.
"We teach that every good is a blessing from the Goddess. Every bad is human failure. But isn’t that a double standard? Why must the good be attributed to Her, but the bad attributed to ourselves? Where is the truth in that?"
Roland went quiet.
"I am no saint, Pastor," Roland met the grey eyes. "But I suppose... perhaps it isn’t a double standard. Perhaps it is simply a way to keep humans from losing themselves."
Marius narrowed his eyes.
"If all good were credited to ourselves, humans would grow arrogant. They would stop praying, stop giving thanks, stop feeling the need for something greater than themselves. And if all bad were blamed on the Goddess... humans would never change. They would keep falling into the same rifts, blaming destiny, never introspecting." Roland paused. "Both extremes end in the same result: keeping humans moving. Striving. Needing—and remaining responsible."
Marius stood in absolute silence. His eyes locked onto Roland—searching for a lie. He found none.
"You are truly unreadable," he murmured.
Finally, from within the folds of his pitch-black cassock, the Pastor withdrew a clean, white parchment scroll. Atop it, the red wax seal bearing the seven-rayed sun was pristine and gleaming.
"This is your Travel Pass to the southern gate."
Roland let out a heavy, controlled breath, then accepted the scroll with both hands.
"Do not waste your energy thanking me," Marius cut him off before Roland could speak. "You are the first human whose soul I have failed to fully read. And I wish to witness with my own eyes... what kind of surprises you will uncover in the southern territories."
Roland rolled the parchment neatly, slipping it into his coat pocket. "If I manage to find the answer to that truth... I will ensure you are the first in Sanctum to receive the report, Pastor."
Marius’s lips curved upward slightly. "Begone. Before I change my mind."
Roland bowed respectfully, then turned to walk steadily down the marble aisle toward the exit. But just as his hand brushed the handle of the massive oak doors, Marius’s heavy voice echoed once more from behind:
"Roland."
Roland’s steps halted. He chose to remain with his back to the Pastor.
"In the grand capital... tread carefully."
Roland absorbed the chilling warning. "Thank you for the advice, Pastor."
