Chapter 12

Lanken could not hide his frustration. As he was being shooed out of the chapel with Viretta and Iola in tow, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by both the priests and the divine itself.

"How could they treat me like this!" he lamented openly, not bothering to mask his feelings. "I came here in need, and this is what I get?"

He wasn’t one to bottle up his emotions, especially not in front of Viretta. Such behavior was beneath him, and Lanken made sure everyone knew exactly how he felt. The priests had urged him to take responsibility for the disruption caused by his companions and to maintain order in the chapel.

"Brother, shouldn’t you be helping those who are lost and struggling?" one priest had asked.

"My plate’s already full. Isn’t that reason enough not to?" Lanken had countered.

"Remember, the scriptures teach us not to turn away from our struggling brothers and sisters. Perhaps, as a brother, you could help guide your companions to a more peaceful state. After all, the house of God should be a place of peace."

Lanken had sighed. "Doesn’t feel like I’m the one getting any peace here."

"Brother, our Father above surely witnesses your trials. He sees the hardships you endure for your friends and prepares blessings for you as He gives you these tests."

Lanken had no response. The priest's kind yet firm words had clearly meant that the chapel wanted them out, and with the many judgmental glares cast upon them by other devotees, Lanken knew there was no winning.

In the end, they had been forced to leave the chapel, not as outcasts but certainly not as welcome guests either.

Now they were seated in a small inn room, having bought their lunch. Bread and simple fare lay on a table in front of them, but none of them seemed particularly eager to eat.

"I still don’t understand why they accused me of blasphemy," Iola said, tilting his head in confusion. "I’ve visited the chapel in the capital many times, and nothing like this ever happened. The countryside folk here seem rather harsh."

Lanken sighed. "You called the act of donating and praying ‘a meaningless ritual,’ my lord. That’s bound to offend anyone."

"But isn’t the purpose of religion to find meaning in the meaningless? I was merely pointing out its origins. Why did that make them so upset?"

Lanken muttered under his breath, "Why am I even having this conversation with someone who bought a rock?"

Ignoring Lanken’s grumbling, Iola proudly displayed the two rocks he had purchased earlier. "As you can see, these stones are rare and hard to find. I bought them as a gift to commemorate our engagement and the upcoming annulment, Viretta."

"Wow, I must be the only person in all of Filion to receive rocks as an engagement present," Viretta responded with a sarcastic but amused tone. Yet, the truth in her words was undeniable. There was likely no one else who had ever been given such a strange gift.

"You truly have a discerning eye," Iola said, smiling brightly. "I was worried no one in Filion would recognize their value, but you, as the daughter of a mineral merchant, clearly have a keen sense for these things."

Viretta, always the quick thinker, nodded in agreement. "Of course! As my father’s daughter, there’s nothing I don’t know about minerals. This is a truly marvelous gift!"

Though her praise was delivered with a straight face, Viretta knew full well that the rocks Iola had given her were just ordinary stones, completely devoid of any mineral worth. Still, she kept up her act.

Lanken, on the other hand, could barely keep his exasperation hidden. He glanced back and forth between the man who thought a rock was a perfect gift and the woman who accepted it with complete feigned enthusiasm.

"Why is he so gullible, and why is she so good at making up lies on the spot?" Lanken wondered, pressing a hand to his forehead. It was becoming clear to him that not only had his prayers been ignored, but that the gods had likely given him an additional burden in the form of these two.

Lanken looked up toward the ceiling and folded his hands together. "Father, have I really sinned so much in life? Haven’t I lived fairly decently?"

"Well, you’re probably being punished for praying for something as hopeless as avoiding this dragon hunt," Viretta quipped, setting the stone down on the table.

"You know me well!"

"That’s why your prayer failed. I’ve already made up my mind to hunt the dragon. Do you think the gods would listen to you when I’m the one they favor more?"

"And why are you more favored?"

"Because I donate way more than you do, Lanken," Viretta answered smugly.

It was a rather materialistic response, but one that made a twisted kind of sense.

Lanken swallowed back his frustration, finally resigning himself to his fate. "I see… this world is so unfair."

Viretta was known for making generous donations to every chapel or holy site she visited, though she was careful not to part with her gold. Her silver, on the other hand, she spent lavishly. And as much as Lanken hated to admit it, her donations far outweighed his.

Viretta's voice rang out with a hopeful cheerfulness, "But don’t worry, Lanken. Thanks to Medleridge’s donations, we’ll have divine protection during the dragon hunt!"

"Ugh, why do you always say things that make no sense?" Lanken groaned.

"Don’t fret. The dragon doesn’t make donations. Obviously, the gods favor us more."

It was a miracle of logic. Lanken could only collapse onto the table, burying his face in his arms.

Watching this unfold, Iola tilted his head curiously. "You seem far less enthusiastic about this hunt than you were last night, Lanken. Has something changed? Do you think it’s too dangerous for us after all?"

"Of course!" Lanken cried, lifting his head. "If we go after the dragon, we’re practically signing up to die!"

His polite mask slipped as he shot a glare at Iola. The man was either blissfully unaware of the dangers or too naive for his own good.

A dragon was a fearsome creature, with skin tougher than any armor, claws capable of tearing through bone, and flames that could incinerate armies. Even with a group of thirty warriors, victory was uncertain.

But Iola, still smiling softly, shook his head. "No, Lanken. Not a glorious death…"

"-but a miserable one."

He delivered the reality so plainly, his smile never faltering. The contrast was so sharp that both Lanken and Viretta paused, blinking at him in disbelief.

This man wasn’t just a little odd—he might be more unhinged than they initially thought.

Lanken’s eyes narrowed, "Do you actually understand how dangerous this is? You seem pretty calm for someone who should be terrified."

With a kind and composed expression, Iola nodded. "I understand perfectly well. I’ve studied dragons extensively. But I’m doing this because I cannot let Viretta suffer in a marriage she does not want. Someone like her, so full of life, shouldn’t be tied to someone like me."

"I think Iola is just fine," Viretta chimed in, trying to interject. She wasn’t particularly averse to the idea of marrying Iola. He seemed like a good person, considerate, and kind.

But Iola, as if he hadn’t heard her, continued, "To force such a bright soul into sadness would be a crime against humanity."

"I really didn’t mind," Viretta added again, her voice growing softer.

Despite Viretta’s best efforts to correct him, Iola remained convinced of his righteous mission to annul their engagement for her sake. His face was so earnest and full of sincerity that it nearly brought tears to her eyes… though not in the way he intended.

It was both touching and tragically misguided.