Chapter 14 – In which Am keeps his face expressionless

The head priest Rasin left a message:

[For the gods! For the universe! What a tragedy! The world failed in their duties to protect the saint! If not for his excellency’s quick reaction, I fear… No, no. Let's not think about it! This humble one will immediately go to cleanse that heretic! How dare he touch the light of the world! I shall cut off his hands!

PS: I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany his excellency during the breakfast. My greatest apologies.]

At the bottom of the letter, a crying face was drawn.

Amara stared at the drawing and frowned.

“I don’t think I like crying faces anymore.”

“Did Your Excellency liked crying people before…?”

Phlox, who was munching on a slice of hot pepper, asked as she looked at him with confusion.

Amara, who was about to burn the letter, paused in his movement and then looked at Phlox with a very stoic expression:

“Miss, sometimes tears are the most beautiful and pure expression the human body can make.”

“Oooh…”

Phlox nodded with a face as if she learned some profound truth about the world.

And then she put another stuffed mushroom on Amara’s plate.

“Please try this one Your Excellency, the blend of spices is exquisite in this one.”

Amara cut a small bite and savored it.

“Yes. Very good.”

He mumbled as he reached to pour himself a third cup of red tea.

*How does it taste?*

‘Like something from the depths of fire hell.’

*... Doesn’t it mean it’s very painful? Isn’t it bad?*

*No, no. This is good pain.*

*How Am in pain is good pain?*

*Am said it’s very good himself.*

*And he is making the most beautiful expression.*

*Aren’t all expressions Am makes the most beautiful?*

*Am said that crying expressions are most beautiful, so our eyes must deceive us!*

*No! Does it mean we can’t see the full beauty of our Am?!*

*Time to ascend to the Universe.*

While the gods were declaring their ascension plans, Phlox was packing all kinds of food in case Amara became hungry later.

If Amara really went hungry, he could just call an attendant, but he didn’t stop Phlox as he suspected she was using it as an excuse to redistribute that food later among the attendants.

But he was a bit worried about the attendants’ tongues, because most of the food Phlox picked up seemed to be very spicy.

While he picked up a few rice pancakes and started to wrap them up to help her, he thought about tonight's incident.

‘That assassin shouldn’t be part of the head priest’s schemes. If not for my experience with similar situations, I wouldn’t survive. Rasin wouldn’t want that. He needs a saint and the replacement is still not ready…’

Amara quickly excluded head priest Rasin from the list of suspects.

The most obvious suspect was Rubrun.

The assassin was a mage, trained in countering priests, and from what Amara saw during that chaotic situation, he seemed to be wearing a uniform typical for Rubrun troops.

It all matched Rubrun, which had vendetta against Purplus, very well.

‘But what would be their goal?’

Vendetta or not, the current Rubrun was in turmoil.

It was a well known fact that the current Archmage held very weak political power.

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If he was to wage a war against Purplus, he would be effectively calling for his own death sentence.

Of course, the assassin could be sent by one of the guilds, but what would be their goal?

Amara, who didn’t know much about the current political landscape of Rubrun, could only make a guess based on the history.

‘Is it related to the Black Forest Massacre?... No, that’s too shallow of a reason to wedge a war.’

Around 100 years ago, a squad of Purplus’ purifiers attacked the headquarters of one of the Rubrun’s famous families and almost wiped out everyone inside.

After the place where the massacre took place, the incident was named Black Forest Massacre.

Descendants of this family probably still held a strong hatred for Purplus.

But Amara didn’t think this assassination was related to them.

*It’s not Rubrun.*

Suddenly, a weak voice in his head said.

Amara was a bit surprised, but didn’t question it.

There were things that shouldn’t be asked.

Rather, he turned to Phlox and said:

“I have somewhere to go after the morning sermon.”

“Huh? … His Excellency expressions really change like in a kaleidoscope.”

Amara was very sure he was keeping his face under control this entire time.

*-*-*

The small infirmary in the backyard of the temple was filled with the smell of herbs and dust.

It seemed that visitors were rare, even though it was an infirmary located in the most famous temple around this part of the world.

“Your Excellency…” The doctors were startled when they saw Amara enter.

Amara was an even rarer guest in this place.

His mere appearance made a few people sway on their feet as they stared at him with shock.

The only few occasions when he did come were when a famous guest came to request healing and Resin led Amara here personally.

For Amara to come here on his own was beyond unusual.

He looked around and then stared at the doctors without a word.

Doctors immediately bowed their heads, but feeling his gaze, beads of sweat began to form at their necks.

“His Excellency is here to see the patient!”

Phlox stepped forward and proclaimed with a resounding voice, as if she was a herald bringing the king’s decree.

“Yes, yes, the patient, of course!”

The doctors nodded quickly and then looked at each other.

The look on their faces said:

‘What patient! There is only one patient here!’

But they didn’t dare to question the orders of the saint and led Amara deeper inside the infirmary.

Their destination was a room at the back.

Unlike the doors to other rooms, which were richly decorated, this one was very plain, almost blending in with the wall, as if hiding its existence.

When Amara stepped inside, he saw straw mats spread on the floor, about dozens of them, laying very closely.

A smell of rotting straw lingered in the air, even though the room seemed clean.

This was the only room in this infirmary dedicated to treating the temple's servants.

“I wish to be alone.”

“Yes? But Your Excellency…”

The doctors didn’t get to finish, as Amara closed the door behind him.

Then he headed deeper into the room.

There in the farthest corner, under the only window in this room, he saw an unconscious man wrapped in bandages, laying on one of the straw mats.

There was a second, younger man, sitting beside the injured man.

Amara hesitated for a second and then approached, quietly sitting down beside the young man.

The young man, who fell into thoughts, noticed Amara’s presence late.

“Your Excellency…!”

He was about to get on his knees, but Amara caught him before that and sat him down.

“No need.” Then he pointed at the sleeping man. “Let’s not disturb him.”

“Yes…”

The young man nodded as a hint of reverence appeared in his eyes, but that was in the moment replaced by worry as he turned to look at the unconscious man.

Amara was also looking at the patient.

From what he heard from reports, that attendant somehow sensed the assassin and tried to hold him back.

A fight broke out, but because of the spell of silence, no sound was heard.

The attendant tried his best, but with his weak body and no weapon, he couldn’t really do anything.

The assassin caught him by the throat and then plunged an ice spear into his stomach. Ripping and freezing his insides in an instant.

If not for Amara’s first-aid, he would be dead by now.

Amara gazed at the piece of discolored skin visible under bandages and then said:

“You often stick together.”

“Ah… You remembered such a useless fact, Your Excellency?”

The young man beside him was startled, not sure why the saint was suddenly talking to him.

Hell, he couldn’t understand why the saint was here.

But Amara paid him no mind, his gaze still fixed at the piece of discolored skin.

“You seem close. Can I ask what is your relationship?”

“Um, yes, he is my old… older brother.”

“I see.”

His stomach burned. He seemed to eat too much spicy food today.

“You don’t seem related by blood.”

“We aren’t… He raised me. Picked me from the street– ah, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The fact that Amara was an orphan living on the streets before he was taken to the temple as a new saint, was well-known to the public.

But it was taboo to speak about it in front of the saint.

In fact, Amara couldn’t care less about his street origin.

He didn’t remember ever having a warm, happy home. Even in his previous life.

His earliest memory was him hugging with his siblings to keep warmth as heavy rain fell down on them like cold blades and night fog cling to them, threatening to swallow them if even one of them lets go.

From his perspective, he always lived on the streets.

Ver once told him that he had a very vague memory of their family house. That it was a very warm place, but Amaranth couldn’t remember it all.

“You must be very worried because your older brother is sick. I know that feeling.”

Before he learned healing rituals…The days when Ver fell terribly sick…

The young attendant glanced at him with a strange expression, but Amara didn’t pay him any attention.

He said very quietly:

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Before confused attendant could ask what Amara is sorry for, Amara looked up at him and ordered:

“I must ask you to leave for a moment.”

“... Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Please make sure no one disturbs me.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

The young man quietly stood up, bowed, and then left.

When Amara was left alone, he asked those who never leave him:

‘Whose devotee is he?’

As a saint, Amara could easily sense if someone had a connection to gods.

There were different types of connections, but the majority of them could be categorized as ‘devotee’ or in other word ‘believer’.

*This soul follows the paths of this one.*

Amara was surprised when he heard the voice of an unexpected god.

Tree of Fate River.

A mystical tree that dips its roots in the river of fate.

He hesitated and then asked:

‘Can I heal this soul’s mortal coil?’

Fate was something which should be avoided.

The same was for the gods, which had something to do with it.

If the Tree of Fate River refused or declared that the life of this soul was about to end, Amara would immediately retreat.

*This one will be grateful.*

Thankfully, it seemed that the attendant wasn’t fated to die here.

Amara sighed in relief.

And then he started a ritual.

A healing ritual for the Tree of Fate River was very simple.

“Between rustling leaves, my soul sleeps to the melody of winds…

Waters of ambers and rubies crease my toes and tanzanite tears fall on my heart…”

Amara sang softly.

After Amara left the room, all the discoloration on the unconscious attendant’s skin disappeared, and the slight frown on his sleeping face also vanished.

He seemed to have a pleasant dream.

*-*-*

[Priest Phlox, I have one more place to go, but this visit had to be kept a secret.]

Amara informed Phlox about his next plan when he found an opportunity to establish another telepathic link.

But Phlox didn’t answer him, just examined his face very carefully and then asked:

“Your Excellency, is there something wrong with that soup? Is it too spicy?”

“No, it’s delicious.”

“... Really? Your Excellency expression… No, nevermind.”

Amara had no idea what Phlox was talking about.

He was sure he was keeping his face expressionless.