“Hello.” – The Death priest kindly greeted. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you a new visitor to this town?”

His husky voice startled Eithne. She awkwardly faced him, worrying that she might have done the wrong procedure.

“Yes. I’m from the capital. This is my first time visiting a Death shrine.”

“Glad to hear that our shrine attracts tourists! Ahaha.”

The priest had an amazing aura of friendliness around him. Seeing the Death priest comfortably laughing, Eithne let her guard down.

“Would it be impolite if I ask you to talk more about Death? I’m honestly interested in knowing more about God and His great wisdom.” – She asked.

“It’s my pleasure! Come along, let me show you around.”

The Death priest’s eyes brightened. As a man nurtured by the philosophy of kindness, he showed his best hospitality to Eithne, guiding her around to explain more about God. Eithne, on the other hand, responded to him with her sincere willingness to learn. Thus, their discussion was prolonged by almost an hour.

The Death priest’s name was Towlser. He was also the same priest who did the preaching. His passion for debating soared when he found out Eithne was quite knowledgeable about religion, especially the War religion that she casually mentioned to compare with the Death teaching. If Towlser had no other work coming up, he would like to invite Eithne to the shrine’s library to further discuss the Death. Before he left, priest Towlser generously gifted her a white cloak embroidered with the red Death symbol on the back.

“It’s a cloak for Death’s believers.” – said Towlser.

“Thank you so much. I’m grateful for the gift.”

Eithne slightly bowed.

Towlser felt that his gift was not enough, so he added a gold-colored mask on top of the cloak.

“Bad karma is also generated through rude words. This mask is for you to practice silence. When you wear this mask, your mouth is covered so you won’t say hurtful things to others.”

Eithne reluctantly accepted the second gift. The stiff aluminum mask was only for ceremonial purposes. She knew it was only Towlser’s good will, but it sparked a question in Eithne’s mind that had she been rude to Towlser that he had to give her something to cover her sinful mouth? Nonetheless, she bowed to express gratitude.

“Thank you, priest Towlser.”

After giving out the items, the Death priest left.

Eithne tried to put on the cloak and the mask. The soft and thick cloak was comfy, but the mask wasn’t. It would need a softer cloth underlay the metal part, but at least it was pretty outside. The mask had beautiful smoky patterns and lovely tassels on two sides.

‘This could be a good camouflage for me.’ – Eithne thought.

“Hyaaaa---- “

Suddenly, Barty’s yawn reverberated in her ears. Eithne quickly left the Death shrine and even cautiously ran out of Stero town. Now that she had the outfit of a Death’s believer, less people paid more attention to her as a new tourist in town.

When she hid in an obscure spot in the pine wood, a purple transparent cube appeared midair, opening one of its sides to reveal a fox head inside.

“Kya! Unbelievable! I’ve only slept for a few hours but you’ve already joined another cult!” – Barty barked. “The Order will be so disappointed in you!”

“How do you know that I joined another religion?”

Eithne furrowed her eyebrows. To be fair, she hadn’t joined yet, she had been gaining their trust to get more information, for research purposes!

“My my… This cloak, and this mask have a special energy on them.”

Barty’s head left the pocket-subspace cube. It floated around Eithne to sniff on her clothes.

“The energy is calm, gracious, merciful… Snifffff- I can smell herbs. Oh Lord, this cloak is like a father’s embrace!”

Eithne flinched. Barty was terrifying detective. Just by sniffing her cloak, they could guess the characteristics of the Death God, they even knew the God was a “He”!

“Why is it like father’s embrace? What if it’s mother’ embrace?”

Eithne tried to retort. The Fox’s head then floated up to directly face her. Their mouth slightly curved up.

“I am correct, ain’t I?”

“… Yes.” – She couldn’t deny. “Hey, have you been watching me all the time? Did you pretend to sleep? How come you know everything?”

“No, I’m not that sick… I’m just really experienced with a sensitive nose. It’s just my instinctive feeling.”

Barty sighed. It floated to her back to look at Death’s symbol.

“What happened while I was sleeping?”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Eithne told the Fox everything, including the spirit language. Barty’s head flew back to face Eithne. A sheer look of disbelief was etched on its face – its golden eyes widened and silver whiskers were dropping down in bewilderment.

“You said that the spirits are speaking the castle’s language?”

“Yes!”

“That’s… horrible to hear.”

Eithne could imagine that if the Fox’s head was on its body, Barty would grab its own ears. This was the first time Barty had ever reacted so strongly over a matter. Even when they knew someone could interfere with Eithne’s divination, Barty remained cool. However, this time was different. The Fox was clearly distressed, causing Eithne to trigger an alarm in her mind.

“What’s wrong?" - Eithne tried to list out some clue she noticed. "Actually, the spirit didn’t talk exactly the same way as us. I can’t understand some of their words, so I think they have a special accent.”

“Well, that’s less horrible to know, but still shitty. Eeeee….”

“Huh?”

The Fox frowned.

“You know that the castle’s language is dangerously powerful, right? You can call forth our Lords by saying Their Names. This language could transverse through space, time, minds. You pray in your head but our Lords can all hear your prayer.”

Eithne nodded. The Lords that Barty mentioned were the godly triumvirate – Chaos, Order, and Void. Eithne always prayed silently in her head, but the Order always heard. She had taken this ability of the Gods for granted, never expected the language to have significantly crucial role. However, it was a big mistake.

Eithne slapped her forehead.

Indeed, a wizard with mana could not cast a spell without magic words.

The oldest language that most people knew in this world was Ikyal language, which was widely studied and used by many mages and priests as the bridge of communication to Gods and nature. Eithne – as a pre-priestess had overlooked this fact, which she used to take lightly of the sounds created by humans, thinking they were simply human’s thing and would not affect the nature surrounding them. In truth, mages and priests had been using Ikyal language to perform magic for thousands of years. Mana was just raw fuel, while chanting words were key to mysticism. Many cults even attempted to hide the magic language for themselves. As the old language was difficult to use, modern language was created for people’s easy access, but it lost the old mystical capabilities. Without the lead of sophisticated words, mana – as raw fuel could only be used in low-level magics such as creating fire or water. The importance of language was just that significant.

Eithne sighed as she noted down her mistake.

The case for the castle’s language was even more serious.

“Remember, the castle’s language is actually a form of empowerment.” – The Fox solemnly said. “You can only hear and speak in the language because the castle has recognized you as the throne’s candidate. Seriously, each word of this language counts as power. If there’s another creature could use this language, though just a few words, meaning they also have the right to take the throne!”

Eithne took a deep breath as Barty continued to explain.

“I can speak the castle’s language because I came from the castle, not as a candidate. I don’t know who has empowered the spirit, but the Order stated only you was Their chosen one. Maybe the one who interfere with your divination is a spirit, who is also aiming for the throne?”

Everything was becoming terribly complicated as they were trying to guess the possibilities.

“Okay. Somebody can interfere my divination from afar, they can possibly a spirit, or a demi-god, and likely takes side with the Primordial Serpent…”

Eithne tried to gather all the ideas so that her brain could process this horrible stress, but the more she did, the more she wanted to freak out because the possible enemy was too tough for her to handle. At that moment, Barty the Fox just brushed off their frowning expression and hung up the playful smile again.

“Your imagination can scare you badly. Don’t let them affect your mood. Maybe the truth isn’t what we think. As long as the spirits speak the castle’s language less accurately than you, they will forever be behind you in line of the throne’s ascension. And don’t forget me, I’m here to help you~.”

“Thanks.”

Eithne petted Barty’s furry head with mixed feelings.

Barty had timely cut off her stress. Eithne was sure that the Fox would not let her back down from fighting for the throne, not even in thought. The emotion manipulation was quite obvious, that being said, they were still supporting her, leaving Eithne trapped between self-efficacy and quitting intention.

“By the way, I smell buttered food on my clothes. Was that pastry? A fruity pastry? My favorite pastry is pie. I like sweet pies with cream.”

Eithne froze a bit at Barty’s nonstop comments. The Fox’s eyes lit up with the imaginary pie in their head.

“Be honest, have you been spying on me all the time?”

“Eeeee no! I just… really like pie and I’m hungry. Why am I wrong to sniff my own clothes? I told you I have a sensitive nose. This nose has sniffing experience for thousands of years! … Don’t look at me like that. Keek! By the way, has Raphael come?”

“Don’t try to change to subject.”

Eithne glanced at the wristwatch. It was about time that the Peace priests came.

-

Gallop… gallop… gallop…

In the crisp afternoon, the priests of Peace arrived at the Stero town. The galloping of horses announced their vivid presence, the priests dressed in white were coming like the angels from the brightest heaven, casting joy over the humble piece of rustic land. Their leader was the reverend Saint of Peace, securing his ivory snow cloak from the wind and pulling the horse’s rein, as he rode on the strong silver mare to approach the gate of Stero.

Horses neighed and stopped in front of the gate. The Peace priests stepped down from their horses to greet the town people.

The Saint let the hood slide down from his head. His disheveled white hair was like a soft cloud that hugged his immaculate face. Everyone was stunned by his appearance, they were lost in the angelic aura that he exulted. His green eyes were tender and so gorgeous, they held a vibrant youthfulness that seemed to be eternal with a joyous sparkle. The man could dim the daylight with a smile, and he had spent every second doing so to blur people’s vision ever since he had come to this place.

Eithne stood on the roof of the highest guard tower, witnessing what happened on the ground from above. Since everyone had their attention on the Peace priests and the Saint, nobody bothered to check for unusual things to appear on the roof.

“After all this time, I’m still surprised by his face.”

Eithne smiled, crouching down to avoid being seen.

“I wonder if the Death temple would be in trouble if the believers all run over to the Peace temple for the Saint.”

She quietly watched the Peace priests enter the inn.

The Saint waved a short goodbye to people before he came inside.

Eithne’s dark power gathered at her feet. Her tall figure jumped off the tower’s roof and disappeared from the town guards’ scanning gazes …

_