After he finished speaking, Mia quietly rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.
Purifying Viscount Oswell?
Did that mean Viscount Oswell had been contaminated by an outer god? It would be extremely dangerous for Lovene to go and purify him.
At this moment, if Lovene gave the word, she would draw her sword without hesitation and chop off Clement's head.
Breaking an oath was better than taking such a risk.
However, Lovene didn't even seem to think about it before she replied,
“Alright.”
She spoke as if she were agreeing to something perfectly ordinary, not even raising her head as she gently smoothed the bouquet of golden wildflowers in her arms with her fingers.
Clement raised an eyebrow.
“Aren't you afraid of the danger?”
“Since I promised, I won't back down, even if there is danger,” Lovene said.
With a helpless smile, Clement shook his head, a trace of exhaustion in his voice that he himself might not have realized.
“I really don't know whether to call you naive or foolish. People like you don't live long in this world.”
“It doesn't matter. After all, I am the Saintess.”
Lovene spoke nonchalantly, then lowered her head, burying her face in the shadow of the bouquet. The smile on her face was exceptionally sweet, but Clement and Mia both caught their breath.
They both knew the fate of the Saintesses.
They were born to be the keys of flesh and soul to awaken the Lord of the Morning Light. No matter how clever they were, they would turn into a pool of blood on the altar in their twenties.
So no matter what kind of personality Lovene had, she wouldn't live long in this world.
Clement said nothing more, but the pity in his eyes when he looked at Lovene deepened.
How could she still wear such a sweet smile when speaking of such a thing?
It seemed she truly believed that sacrificing herself to awaken the Lord of the Morning Light was an incredibly beautiful thing.
He felt an indescribable ache in his heart whenever he thought of this.
He felt that a Saintess like Lovene shouldn't meet such an end. To be loved and remembered by the world should be her destiny. This world was truly detestable.
What was even more detestable was that he knew this, yet could do absolutely nothing to help her.
After all, sometimes he couldn't even control his own destiny, so how could he save Lovene?
Indeed, the more awake a person was, the more they suffered.
With that, he turned to look out the window, his expression grim.
Silence fell over the carriage, broken only by the creaking of the wheels grinding over the road. Mia sat beside Lovene with her head lowered, lost in thought.
In the days that followed, they passed through several small towns to rest and resupply. Soon, they truly entered the Oswell territory.
“Viscount Oswell, Marcus, is a former comrade of mine,” Clement began, explaining Marcus's situation.
“He was also a Heresy Inquisitor for the church. However, he was contaminated during an investigation, which led him to resign from his position and return to his domain.”
Lovene looked up and asked, “And now? How is he?”
“I don't know. I haven't seen him in over a year. However, two months ago, the church received a request from his territory, asking them to send an envoy to purify Marcus's contamination, but the church refused.”
He paused. The shadows of the trees passing outside the carriage window flickered across his face, alternating between light and dark.
“As for now, he's definitely still alive. With his willpower, the contamination wouldn't be enough to kill him.”
There was a hint of admiration for Marcus in Clement's tone.
The carriage continued forward.
As dusk fell, they finally arrived at the heart of the Oswell territory. Lovene lifted the carriage curtain and saw a crooked wooden sign standing by the roadside. On it were carved faded words:
“When the white mist rises, do not leave your home. If you hear whispers, close your eyes and cover your ears.”
Below the sign hung a string of white bones from an unknown animal, carrying an indescribably eerie vibe.
At night, they arrived at the territory's capital.
Unlike what they had imagined, Oswell at night was full of vitality, like the rising sun, with almost every building brightly lit.
But those lights were not ordinary oil lamps. They emitted a faint, cold blue glow—quiet and chilling, like starlight scooped from the deep sea, painting the entire street into a surreal landscape.
The carriage passed through the middle of the street.
Lovene noticed that the nearby residents looked at them with strange gazes. There seemed to be a hint of rejection, along with some pity and sympathy, though most of it was simply indifference.
The carriage finally stopped in front of the lord's manor.
Under the blue light, the stone building took on a sickly grayish-white hue, its walls covered in strange algae. Two guards stood at the entrance, their armor coated in a fine layer of condensation, holding halberds.
“Halt. State your business,” the guard on the left said, stepping forward and blocking the carriage with his halberd.
Clement lifted the carriage curtain, revealing the Heresy Inquisitor badge on his chest.
“Clement, Heresy Inquisitor of the Church of the Morning Light, here to visit Viscount Oswell.”
The guards exchanged looks, and one of them turned and walked into the manor, his footsteps fading up the stone steps.
They didn't have to wait long. The guard returned quickly, stepping aside to clear the way.
“Please come in.”
The lord's manor was very quiet. The foyer was so empty that their footsteps echoed, and several faded oil paintings hung on the walls, the faces of the subjects blurred by time.
There were far fewer blue lanterns here. Most of the corridors were shrouded in darkness, with only the occasional corner illuminated by a small ring of cold light.
They were received by a noblewoman of elegant bearing.
She wore a dark blue gown without any intricate embroidery, adorned only with a silver brooch at her collar—a falcon with outspread wings, identical to the emblem in Clement's possession.
Her hair was pinned up, giving her an exceptionally mature look. Through Clement's introduction, Lovene learned that she was Elena, the wife of Viscount Oswell.
“Is this Lady Lovene, the Saintess of the church?” Elena's gaze swept from Lovene's holy robes to her face, finally lingering for a moment on her bandaged wrist.
“You are even more beautiful than the rumors suggest.”
“Thank you for your kind words, milady,” Lovene curtsied slightly, her holy robes swaying. “You are also more beautiful than I imagined. Having a lady like you is a blessing for the people of the Oswell territory.”
Elena's lips curved slightly, her mood seemingly improving. She gestured for them to take their seats while she sat in the main chair, hands folded over her lap. Her posture was elegant, her back as straight as a sword.
A maid served tea, and Clement began exchanging pleasantries with Elena. It was during this time that Lovene noticed a small figure peeking from the hallway beside the hall.
It was a little girl, about five or six years old, with her hair in a ponytail, wearing a luxurious noble gown. Scattered across her cheeks and chin were several pale red, dark spots.
The little girl had large, dark gray eyes, and she was staring at Lovene without blinking. Lovene smiled at her, and she retreated behind the door as if she had been burned.
A maid hurried over, bent down, and took the little girl's hand to lead her away. As she was being pulled away, the little girl looked back at Lovene, seemingly very curious.
“Who is she?” Lovene asked.
Elena picked up her teacup, the lid clinking softly against the rim.
“That is my daughter, Dorothy.”
She didn't elaborate, nor did she look in the direction her daughter had been taken. Instead, she gave a slight smile and continued chatting with Clement.
Clement quickly set down his teacup and leaned forward slightly.
“Lady Elena, I won't beat around the bush. The main reason I brought the Saintess here is because of Lord Marcus. Where is he now?”
Elena's fingers paused, and a flicker passed through her eyes, though she quickly concealed these subtle movements.
“For Marcus?”
“Yes. The Saintess possesses the ability to purify contamination. Perhaps she can save him.”
The hall suddenly fell so silent that one could hear the faint crackle of the wicks burning in the blue lanterns. Mia sat beside Lovene, her hand resting on her sword hilt like a silent statue.
Clement frowned slightly, as if he, too, was beginning to realize something.
Elena looked at Clement, then at Lovene. Finally, she lowered her eyes and whispered softly,
“Marcus... is dead.”
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