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Angowalos: Verse of Fate
016 A Friend of an Old Friend

016 A Friend of an Old Friend

When Rivern arrived at the Dawn Prayers' headquarters on the Asate continent, the Murmuring Sanctum, it was still mid-morning, but the entrance of the chapel was already crowded with people.

These were not worshippers here for a service but mercenaries seeking help.

Among them were mercenary groups formed freely as well as lone wolves who never joined any organization. However, all of them would take on missions from the Mercenary Guild and venture to dangerous places across the continent.

During their journeys, battles were inevitable, and with battles came injuries. At such times, having a priest in the team who could heal wounds would ensure a certain level of safety for the members and significantly increase the chances of mission success.

However, hiring a priest from the Dawn Prayers for one's team was no easy task. First of all, the cost of hiring a priest for a Mercenary Guild mission was very expensive. This made it impossible for smaller mercenary groups with limited funds to afford. Top-ranking, powerful mercenary groups often took on high-difficulty missions and required the assistance of mid-level or even high-level priests. For these groups, money wasn't an issue, but ultimately, whether they could hire a priest depended on the High Priestess Aurora of the Dawn Prayers and the invited priest's own decision. If either of them said no, the priest could not participate in the mission, no matter how much the mercenary group offered.

The Dawn Prayers, the oldest neutral organization in the human world, was not a selfless welfare institution. When providing help, it would charge corresponding fees depending on the situation; at the same time, it had its own code of conduct and standards of justice.

Sometimes, this "fee" might be just a piece of candy from a child; other times, tens of thousands of gold coins wouldn't be enough to get a nod from the High Priestess.

The Dawn Prayers and its priests held a special and exalted position in Northsail and across the entire Asate continent, to the extent that people would look upon their blue-edged white robes with respect.

So, when Rivern passed by those mercenaries, he received the same kind of attention, with some even warmly approaching him to strike up a conversation.

"Morning, sir. We're heading to the Moonlit Forest caves for some exploring. Wanna tag along?"

"We're off to the Green Mire Swamp, just need a priest to join us. We can leave today. The pay's good, promise."

"Move it, I asked first!"

"Shut up, you bald idiot. Don't cut in line!"

Rivern had no interest in their enthusiastic invitations and could only respond to each with an awkward yet polite smile, then did his best to make his way through the crowd towards the chapel.

Seeing this, the receptionist of the Dawn Prayers called out, "Please line up and submit your application forms. We will get back to you as soon as possible."

The mercenaries surrounding Rivern reluctantly returned to the wooden table beside the receptionist.

It was then that Rivern noticed not all the mercenaries were interested in him. A few had been standing by the receptionist the entire time, without moving an inch.

They wore disdainful expressions, openly conversing in loud voices.

"Just a low-ranking priest, I don't see what's so special."

"Country bumpkins who've never seen the world are so easy to fool. They cozy up to a low-ranking priest like he's someone important."

"He's just a low-ranking priest, not even qualified to join a team to hunt Flame-tail Lions."

Rivern glanced at the emblem on his chest, a grey blooming feather insignia—the mark of a low-ranking priest—and didn't feel offended. After all, they were speaking the truth.

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Top-tier mercenary groups wouldn't be interested in a low-ranking priest.

He brushed off the mockery, striding into the chapel and heading towards the side door to the right of the Goddess of Light statue. However, he didn't push open the wooden door; instead, he turned and walked towards the stone wall beside it.

He didn't touch any mechanism; instead, the ring on his left index finger glowed faintly, and he melded into the stone wall like a drop of water into the sea, disappearing from sight.

On the other side of the stone wall was a deep corridor. It twisted and turned, seemingly endless and leading to an unknown destination. Rivern navigated it with ease, turning at intervals, sometimes ascending, sometimes descending, until he finally arrived before an iron door.

It was a grand yet intricate iron door, adorned with countless overlapping metal carvings forming the shape of three feathers that converged into a flower. This was the emblem of the Dawn Prayers—the Blooming Feather, a symbol known to all in the human world.

When Rivern touched the center where the three feathers overlapped with his ring-bearing left hand, the delicate metal threads seemed to come to life. Some retracted, others extended, and some bent, forming a new emblem—a Sacred Scepter, the legendary weapon of the Sacred Winged Kin from the Realm of Light.

Rivern withdrew his hand, and the same Sacred Scepter emblem glowed on his ring before the iron door opened.

In front of him was a moderately sized training ground, with several combat dummies placed around the edges. A few familiar figures stood in the center of the field.

The loud conversation reached Rivern's ears, and he immediately recognized the voice of its owner—the most un-knightly paladin in the world, Nevarus.

At that moment, this Paladin was competing with several other priests. Rivern took a closer look and realized they were using swords. Nevarus wielded his sword with a certain grace, while the other priests looked rather awkward and out of place.

"Come on, attack me with all you've got! If you can hit me even a little, drinks are on me tonight! Hey, don't be scared! All of you, come at me together! Don't act like a bunch of chickens!"

No matter how much Nevarus tried to cajole or threaten them, the priests couldn't muster any enthusiasm. They merely swung their swords half-heartedly in response.

Rivern watched them helplessly, wondering what on earth Nevarus was up to this time.

Nevarus brandished his sword and launched an attack at one of the priests. Knowing he couldn't possibly withstand the Paladin's strength, the priest, lacking any will to fight, retreated clumsily. Just as his tangled legs were about to lose balance and send him tumbling, a force seemed to intercept Nevarus's blade, shielding the priest.

The sword collided with the hexagonal magical shield, sparking golden embers.

Rivern's outstretched left hand remained in the air, his silver ring emitting a faint glow.

As he withdrew his hand, the hexagonal shield slowly faded away.

It was then that Nevarus noticed Rivern. Instantly, a look of excitement appeared on his face.

"Rivern?! What brings you here??" Nevarus launched an attack towards Rivern.

"I come all this way, only to see you bullying the guild's priests? A Paladin challenging priests to a swordfight?"

The priests, seeing Rivern as their savior, quickly dropped their swords and fled.

"I'm bored alone. And you're not here to keep me company." The Paladin's attack was once again blocked by the magical shield as it neared Rivern.

Rivern stood sideways, facing Nevarus, completely still. Only the gust of wind from the sword blade ruffled the hair on his forehead.

Nevarus was no stranger to Rivern's spells. He stepped back a few paces, readying himself for another attack.

With a look of excitement, Nevarus asked Rivern, "We've been on missions together a few times, but we've never dueled one-on-one. Honestly, I'm curious about who's stronger between us. How about a couple of rounds?"

Rivern sighed. "For the sake of the gift I brought you, could you let me off the hook, my dear Paladin?" the priest pleaded.

"Haha, what gift?"

Rivern reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill, placing it in Nevarus's hand. "Here, a love letter from Quigeta."

Nevarus looked closely and saw that it was a detailed list of all the meals and drinks he had freeloaded from Quigeta's tavern over the past few years, with the total amount clearly written at the bottom.

Below the large sum was a scrawled note—"Pay up, or I'll bash your melon head in!"

Nevarus didn't even flinch as he read it. He skillfully tore the bill into pieces, smiling as they drifted away on the wind.

Rivern shook his head in resignation. "Quigeta won't let you off so easily the next time he sees you."

"All the better, I need someone to practice with."

Rivern laughed. "You two are really made for each other."

He knew that before Nevarus officially joined the Dawn Prayers, he was a member of the mercenary group "Frost Wolf," which Quigeta had once established. The name "Frost Wolf" had dominated the Mercenary Guild's performance rankings for a long time. For certain reasons, "Frost Wolf" had disbanded, but this didn't affect the deep bond between its former members.

However, some people wouldn't admit such feelings out loud.

"No, no, no, please. Don't lump me together with that idiot." Nevarus retorted, then shifted the topic. "Speaking of which, what brings you here today? A few days ago, Aurora received your cryptic letter, which led me to have a random fight with a random werewolf on the Beast Tamer's turf."

"It's precisely about this werewolf," Rivern said, his expression turning serious. "I have important matters to discuss with Aurora and Miranda."