Murphy was caught off guard and almost choked on his tea. He turned to the side, coughing his way back to composure.

But, right now, someone was even more surprised than Murphy, and that was the utterly flabbergasted Lambert.

The former priest watched the old man, Melrose, who sipped on his tea as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

The sitting room had fallen into an awkward silence until Murphy decided to cut the tension.

"Mr. Melrose, would a man like you actually entertain the ideas of a heresy?" Murphy asked with a playful smile, glancing at Lambert. This question was as much for himself as it was on behalf of Mr. Priest.

It seemed odd to Murphy for anyone to admit to heresy, but Melrose’s unabashed reply was even more blunt.

"I've merely joined the heretics; I don’t worship them."

Wait, what are you on about? An overwhelmed Murphy watched Melrose, expecting some kind of clarification.

Melrose smiled and shot back, "What do you even know about heretics?"

"Um... ritual sacrifice? Evildoing? Sinister ceremonies?" Murphy ventured a guess.

"Entirely... incorrect," said Melrose. "Those are fabrications spun by the Church."

Murphy raised an eyebrow, his spine tensing. Could it be that Melrose was deep under heretical brainwashing? Then again, with his clarity-inducing amulet, surely the usual methods wouldn't work on old Mel, right? That trinket was a gift from a hero, after all, quality guaranteed.

Could Melrose be telling the truth?

Thinking it over, Murphy's entire understanding of heresy did come from a frontier bandit who had rather dubiously self-identified as one.

"Then I'd love to learn about this so-called heresy. Would you care to enlighten me, Mr. Melrose?"

"No problem. There’s just one core belief of heresy: the gods are dead."

"Do you also believe in this doctrine?" Murphy probed out of curiosity. Ever since his arrival in this world, whatever goddess there was seemed shrouded in mist, an enigma that was challenging to grasp.

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"I don’t believe," Melrose clarified. "Like I said, I've joined them, but I don’t share the belief. We may diverge in thought, but our goal is aligned."

"They claim gods are dead, which I find rather overstated."

Melrose stroked his beard and chuckled, "Gods’ might is unfathomable; how could creatures like us grasp their condition?"

"The heretics simply consider that all things die, and they naïvely apply this to the gods. It's utterly ludicrous."

"If you had to compare gods to humans, perhaps they are merely slumbering, or they've grown indifferent to us, setting their gaze upon other worlds."

"After all, it's unreasonable for beings of godly power to manage only one world and one race," he continued.

"Before the Light Goddess turned her attention to our world, there were no religions here, no gods. Anyone who’s studied history acknowledges this."

"Old Mel, you know you're committing blasphemy right now?" Murphy jokingly chided.

Ignoring Murphy, Melrose went on, "I believe something’s gone awry with the Victory Goddess. That’s why I joined the heretics; we agree on this point."

"And our mutual endgame is to bring down the Church, to see the present-day Victory Goddess faith crumble."

At this point, Melrose’s passion flared. He took a sip of his tea to calm himself, turning to Lambert, "Besides, it was the founder of the heresy who invited me personally to join. Mr. Lambert, though atypical for a priest, doesn’t bear the mark of a heretic either."

While Murphy was still digesting the plethora of information from Melrose's speech, Lambert was already sobbing, "Oh goddess, my faith has never wavered, never..."

After bidding the emotionally fragile buff man farewell, Murphy resumed his seat opposite the unfazed Melrose, "Thank you for your insights. I have a couple more questions to ask."

"Go ahead, ask away."

"Why are the Western and Northern realms banding together against the king's domain?" Murphy inquired, his hands clasped. After all, it was imperative to know how long that war would wage.

"It’s because of the Holy Maiden."

"The Holy Maiden?" Murphy's face showed confusion. "What does she have to do with it?"

"The Holy Maiden is the Goddess's eyes in the human world," Melrose began to explain.

"Speak plainly."

"She’s a figurehead, a mascot," Melrose spread his hands. "They say only the Holy Maiden can feel the grace of the Goddess. I don’t know what practical use she serves, just that the position of Holy Maiden is extremely hazardous."

"What do you mean by hazardous?" Murphy asked, his brows knitting together in concern.

“The role of Holy Maiden is a lifetime appointment, with only death marking the end," Melrose said coolly. "The fourth Holy Maiden was the Western Duke's daughter, the one before hailed from the Northern Duke’s family, and before that, from the current Eastern Duke's ancestry..."

"So, according to this pattern, all four Dukes should take turns beating up the kingdom. After all, together they own over forty percent of the land," Murphy pointed out. "What about the other two?"

"Time breeds forgetfulness," Melrose gestured. "Not everyone can live as long as this old man."

"Besides, while the tenure of Holy Maiden does indeed end in death, it’s a death by natural causes," he added after a moment’s thought.

"Acting on such logic, aren’t those Dukes just looking for trouble?" Murphy felt perplexed. Following Melrose’s account, the Holy Maidens’ demise wasn’t occupational hazard, more a case of poor health.

"However, it's undeniable that the life expectancy of the Holy Maidens has been decreasing with each appointment," Melrose said slowly.