Chapter 11

"It seems the security has gotten worse. Oh well, thanks for the advice. By the way, if anyone from Medleridge comes around, please try not to mention that I headed east. Also, don't tell them about the Ginny silver coins I exchanged."

"Of course, Miss."

"If you keep this secret, I’ll return with a dragon’s claw sculpture for you to sell. No need to hide it—I’m off to find a dragon’s claw."

"I’ll keep it a secret," the shopkeeper replied, though his initial response had been more polite than genuine.

Though he would prioritize the young lady’s request, if Medleridge came looking, he fully intended to disclose her whereabouts. After all, business was business, and it was best not to cross Medleridge. But if the lady offered more in return, well, that changed the equation. The shopkeeper committed Viretta’s promise to memory.

As Viretta, an unusually distinguished customer for such a modest shop, disappeared down the street, the shopkeeper drifted into contemplation.

Why would such a sharp Medleridge girl suddenly sell prized possessions and discreetly head east? A secret contract? A rendezvous with a lover? Or perhaps she was scouting for foreign trade expansions?

The shopkeeper’s mind was full of speculations. But he never once considered the actual reason—that she was going to hunt a dragon in order to break off an engagement.

Since it was a small village, Viretta had suggested they split up for a bit of free time. She told Lanken and Iola to prepare themselves for the dragon hunt while she took care of selling her prized items.

And so, while Viretta was at the general store and Lanken had gone off on his own, Iola found himself at a shabby market stall, engaged in a conversation with a particularly pushy vendor.

"You won’t find anything better for hunting wild beasts than this!" the vendor claimed.

"Is that so?" Iola asked politely.

"Absolutely! Bows and traps? You can get those anywhere, but this is different! Look at this… see that swirl pattern in the middle?"

"Yes, I see it."

Iola crouched in front of the vendor’s stall, studying the smooth, gray stone with a white circular pattern swirling in the center.

"This pattern is said to bring good fortune! Hunters say it protects them from harm, ensuring they come back without a scratch!"

Seeing that Iola was showing interest, the vendor’s excitement grew.

"This is a rare stone. Foreigners love it, but locals don’t realize how valuable it is! If I had the travel funds, I’d have already sold it overseas. But alas… How about it? I’ll give you a great deal. Just take it off my hands for a few coins, and your fiancée will love it."

The vendor subtly pushed two flat, weighty stones toward Iola, who examined them closely.

"She’s likely seen plenty of stones before," Iola mused.

After all, the Medleridge family dealt in minerals, and their house was lined with sculptures made of precious stones.

The vendor, who had no idea of the Medleridge background, only nodded, puzzled.

"Well, no matter. Will you buy them or not? Just four coins for the pair."

"Four coins? For both?"

Iola’s eyes widened, and the vendor felt a sudden pang of guilt. He realized he might have overcharged. After all, he’d only meant to fool a passing customer earlier by hiking up the price.

Seeing his mistake, the vendor waved his hands in defense, quickly lowering the price.

"If that’s too much, how about three?"

"Three coins? What a generous offer for such fine items! It’s heartwarming to see how people everywhere are so kind to engaged couples. Our future is uncertain, but thank you for your blessing," Iola exclaimed cheerfully.

"Uh… right, congratulations…?"

Though confused, the vendor found himself drawn into Iola’s enthusiasm and congratulated him without fully understanding why.

Iola, smiling, tucked the stones into his bag and handed the vendor four silver coins. The vendor nearly jumped for joy but managed to maintain his composure.

"It’s amazing that these stones are only worth two silver apiece. Thank you so much."

Realizing that he had just been given silver coins instead of the copper ones he expected, the vendor was speechless. He wanted to shout in excitement but feared looking suspicious.

"Well, I should thank you for buying them! I’m off to have lunch now. Have a good day!"

The vendor, struggling to keep a straight face, began hurriedly packing up his stall.

"But it’s still morning," Iola pointed out.

"In this village, we eat lunch early! Off you go, now."

"That’s an interesting custom! Do the restaurants open early too? Could you recommend a good place to eat?"

"Goodbye! Best wishes for your happiness!" the vendor called out, dashing away.

Iola, still smiling, waved farewell to the vendor, while the vendor silently prayed that Iola wouldn’t end up heartbroken.

"Great Father, I offer this prayer to you."

Lanken stood inside a large, spacious chapel, gazing up at the ceiling.

On the eastern wall, a solemn statue of a man was carved into the stone. With his hands clasped tightly, Lanken looked up at the statue, offering his prayers.

The chapel was a place where priests lived, held services, and hosted various religious gatherings. Believers would attend services weekly or biweekly, listening to scriptures and offering prayers.

Lanken wasn’t particularly devout, but he wasn’t a lapsed believer either. Occasionally, when life became too difficult, he found himself in the chapel.

"You know why I’m here. It’s always the same reason."

Every time Lanken left the city with Viretta, he stopped by the chapel. No matter what adventure they were heading toward, he knew it would be a challenge.

"Great Father, our almighty deity, please grant me only the trials I can endure. Let Viretta return home safely. And if you do that, I’ll donate to the chapel every month."

Lanken had already been making monthly donations to the chapel, praying for Viretta to be reined in. But apparently, it hadn’t worked yet. Lanken clasped his hands even tighter in prayer.

"If you answered my prayers, I’d visit the chapel more often. But you never seem to grant my wishes. Doesn’t that make my hopes meaningless? Is that why I don’t come here much?" he muttered.

If prayer alone could solve problems, Lanken would have been a regular at the chapel. But not once had it worked.

His faith was on the verge of fading entirely, though he still found himself here when he felt particularly overwhelmed.

The casual tone of his prayer was a result of the local priest’s teachings. The priest believed prayer wasn’t just a request but a conversation with the divine. So, whenever Lanken prayed, he spoke in the only conversational style he knew.

"Anyway, please help this time. I promise I’ll come more often if this works. Just give me trials I can handle…"

"Lanken! There you are! I’ve gathered the funds! Let’s plan the grand hunt for the dragon!"

The main chapel door swung open, and Viretta appeared, silhouetted against the bright morning light.

Every gaze in the chapel turned toward her. Lanken, resolute, kept his head down, eyes closed, and jaw clenched.

"Trials I can handle, do you know what that even means?" he whispered to the divine.

"Lanken! Miss Viretta! Both of you are here! I bought some fantastic stones—only four silver coins!"

As the priests tried to hush Viretta, the door burst open again, and Iola proudly entered, holding up the stones. His voice echoed throughout the chapel as he strode in with confidence, oblivious to the scene he was causing.

Lanken squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. His burden had arrived, in the form of two people, and his back already felt the weight. The murmurs of "Who’s Lanken?" buzzed around him.

"Please! Only trials I can handle… Do you realize how much you’re overestimating me!?"

"Are you performing a ritual to pray for luck before the hunt? In this chapel? Rituals bring in good donations for the church, after all. Though meaningless, they do soothe the soul. Pardon? Sacrilege? Who would commit such a—me?"

"Priest! Please stop dragging my fiancé out! Iola, don’t knock over the priest! Ah, why me too? Lanken, the servants of the divine are persecuting us!"

"Twice a month! I’ll come twice a month! Please, oh gods!" Lanken desperately bargained with the heavens.