Chapter 18

Ch.18 Apostle of the Goddess of War

Sion sat awkwardly in a high-class carriage he was riding for the first time. The man sitting across from him was taciturn by nature, and the silence stretched on.

Sion, however, saw this as an opportunity to rest and instead looked out the window at the scenery.

Foils, located north of Elim, was a city permeated with the scent of wealth.

From the central square, major roads stretched outward, lined with all kinds of shops and street vendors. At the harbor where trade ships docked, merchants from various countries bustled back and forth.

In short, the city overflowed with vitality.

At the heart of this lively city stood the magnificent Golden Wall Hall, its top gleaming in the sunlight.

It was a building symbolic of Foils, one of the merchant alliance cities.

The carriage was heading straight toward it.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. You defeated a demon, didn’t you? That’s astonishing.”

The man across from him finally spoke. Despite his rough appearance, his tone was polite.

“It was just luck.”

Sion shifted his gaze from the window back to the man.

“No one defeats a demon by luck. It’s all skill. You’re very humble, Sir Sion.”

“Haha… thank you.”

Judging by his build and demeanor, the man seemed to be an exceptionally skilled swordsman. Sion had gradually developed the habit of observing people and gathering information about them.

It was a lesson from Garfenn—his master said he had saved his life many times thanks to this habit.

Even someone who seemed kind could be secretly treacherous, he had said.

‘This man seems alright, though.’

Sion silently assessed him. He looked like someone who might have been a knight in the past.

“Besides, you’ve earned the recognition of the Order of the Holy Sword.”

“Well…”

“The Order of the Holy Sword is the finest group of knights in the entire empire. If they’ve acknowledged you, then Sir Sion, you must undoubtedly be a person of extraordinary skill.”

Sion awkwardly smiled and nodded. He couldn’t deny it, but he also didn’t want to proudly accept such recognition.

The man continued,

“If I ever get the chance, I’d like to learn from you myself.”

The conversation gradually continued. Sion began to grow slightly curious about the man.

No matter how he looked at it, this man seemed more skilled than the members of the Order of the Holy Sword he had just met.

“I appreciate the offer. By the way, I haven’t heard your name.”

“Loenhaugter. A wandering knight.”

“So you’re working under Guildmaster Apur now?”

“I go wherever and do whatever pays. The guildmaster has deep pockets. Haha.”

Loenhaugter laughed. Yet, no matter how one looked at him, he didn’t seem like someone for whom money was the most important thing.

Sion shrugged.

“You don’t seem like that kind of person.”

“Hoho. Everyone has a past they’d rather not talk about.”

“That’s true. I was rude.”

“It’s fine.”

Two knights with deep pasts gazed silently out the carriage window. The bustling scenes of Foils passed by like a painting.

Traveling steadily along the well-paved road, Sion gradually fell into thought.

When he snapped back to reality, he realized he had become someone being honored, riding in such a luxurious carriage.

Where had this pleasant change begun? Ah, yes…

‘It started when I became an Apostle of the War Cult, when I met my master.’

He had met a benefactor, secured safety for his siblings, gained recognition for his skills, and slowly begun accumulating achievements.

By offering those achievements to the goddess, he received blessings in return.

Now, a city leader was inviting not Garfenn, but Sion himself.

It was proof that he had risen as a legitimate knight, a true disciple of the War Cult.

‘Just by swinging my sword, everything is going smoothly.’

It was a good sign.

Wasn’t he receiving rewards in proportion to what he had achieved?

Not long ago, he had resented the world. Now, he wanted to live a little longer, and if possible, to build a better life.

The fact that following the guidance of the Goddess of War, Achilles made this possible gave Sion even more strength.

“How is the War Cult these days? Other than Sir Garfenn, I’ve never heard of another apostle being active.”

Loenhaugter broke the silence with a casual question.

“As you can see, I’ve become Master Garfenn’s disciple. Other than that, we’re currently trying to rebuild.”

Loenhaugter’s pupils widened slightly, as if he had just heard something truly fascinating.

“A disciple of Sir Garfenn? That’s amazing.”

The Order of the Holy Sword’s Roben had reacted similarly. Garfenn was far more famous than Sion had realized, and becoming his disciple carried significant weight.

In fact, Garfenn seemed more renowned than the War Cult itself.

“I’d really like to test my skills against you.”

“Anytime. Sir Loenhaugter.”

Sion smiled but remained cautious. The moment he revealed he was Garfenn’s disciple, he had sensed a strange competitive energy from Loenhaugter, which lingered in his mind.

‘He’s definitely a highly skilled person.’

His sudden shift in attitude, and those rough, calloused hands—everything pointed to it.

Before long, the carriage stopped in front of the guild building.

Passing through the grand double doors of the hall, a vast lobby unfolded inside, glowing with dazzling lights.

Ascending a wide spiral staircase into the hall, he found it filled with luxurious carvings and decorations. The fragrant scents filling the room induced a pleasantly dizzy sensation.

‘What kind of fragrance is this?’

The interior was far more opulent than the exterior. It was hard to find anything not made of gold, from the candlesticks to the floor.

Compared to the inside, the outside looked almost modest.

‘I suppose that’s fitting for a merchant alliance.’

The sight was so utterly different from the church in Elim that Sion was momentarily captivated.

But he mustn’t be intimidated.

Material wealth and riches were not what the Goddess of War pursued.

‘This is a city ruled by the Goddess of Abundance. Don’t be deceived.’

Creeeak—

The door to the meeting room opened. A sweet, soothing fragrance enveloped Sion and carried him away.

The air was thick with the scents of various spices and food. He had never smelled anything like it before. A quick glance revealed a lavish banquet already prepared inside.

Loenhaugter quietly cautioned him while showing him the way.

“Though I hold you in high regard, Sir Sion, I am currently employed by Guildmaster Apur. I’d appreciate it if you refrained from any unnecessary words or actions.”

“Despite appearances, I’m a priest. I won’t say or do anything unnecessary—unless it’s needed. Unless it’s needed.”

Sion wasn’t backing down. He calmly smiled and stepped inside.

Loenhaugter chuckled at Sion’s boldness and followed behind.

“Oh! You’ve arrived!”

A plump man, seemingly busy, greeted him.

He had a robust presence, but rather than appearing vulgar, he exuded an air of ease. Dressed in an ornate, antique-style outfit with golden embellishments, he looked wealthy to anyone who saw him.

‘A merchant.’

Unlike the composed Loenhaugter, his employer was rather loud.

His brash voice and fussy actions made them even more contrasting.

‘But I can’t underestimate him. He must be exceptionally shrewd and intelligent to represent the merchants.’

Sion never let his guard down.

He repeatedly recalled his master’s advice: never judge a person solely by their appearance or first impression.

The guildmaster extended his chubby hand for a handshake.

“Are you Sir Sion, the Knight of the War Cult?”

“Yes. I’m Sion.”

Sion smiled as he shook the hand.

“Ahaha! What an honor! My name is Apur. I’m from the distant Koptus Islands in the southeast. Now, as you can see, I’m the guildmaster of this city. Please, have a seat!”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Sion sat in the chair guided by a servant. Having his chair pushed in for him felt very awkward. Still, it was quite an impressive reception.

Apur stared at Sion with a constant, beaming smile.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Sir Roben. You defeated a demon and saved our city. Truly, truly! Thank you. I wanted to treat you grandly, but please forgive the inadequacies due to the rushed preparations.”

“Inadequate? This?”

Sion was so baffled he had to ask.

He had never seen such a feast in his life.

Guildmaster Apur answered as if it were obvious.

“You single-handedly prevented the collapse of our city’s economy. Of course it’s nothing special. You defeated a demon—a feat even the Order of the Holy Sword couldn’t accomplish! This is truly astonishing, Sir!”

Sion’s guard began to melt away under Apur’s warm demeanor and unrestrained praise. He suddenly realized his mistake.

At a gesture from Apur, servants began bringing out dishes.

“Our city isn’t ruled by nobles. It’s a gathering of those who serve gold, credit, and abundance. It’s an honor to host a knight like you, Sir Sion. All of this is surely thanks to the grace of the Goddess of Abundance, isn’t it? Haha!”

When Apur tried to refill Sion’s glass, Sion waved his hand to stop him.

“I’m honored you invited me. Ah, but I’ll pass on the wine.”

“Oh! You’re a priest, aren’t you? My apologies for the oversight. I rarely meet clergymen, so I forgot. My mistake.”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

It was clear without explanation that priests didn’t drink alcohol.

‘Exactly…’

Sion realized just how unusually free Father Gustein was as a priest.

Apur took a sip of wine and looked at Sion.

In his eyes lay something more than mere gratitude—a hidden intent.

Was this simple hospitality, or was there another motive concealed beneath?

‘He must want something. I’ll just wait and see.’

Merchants didn’t offer such kindness freely.

They wouldn’t easily return favors unless it benefited them.

Merchants only invested when there was profit to be made.

A clever businessman wouldn’t reveal his true intentions immediately.

Instead, he showed maximum hospitality to make Sion feel at ease.

“Please, eat. Now—let’s toast! To the hero of Foils!”

Delicious food, music, fascinating stories from merchants…

A bard’s song that praised Sion so extravagantly it felt like wings sprouting from his back.

Sion experienced many things he had never encountered before.

Just as Sion’s tension eased and Apur seemed increasingly drunk on his own inflated pride,

Sion decided it was time to stop wasting time and spoke up.

“Guildmaster.”

“Yes, yes, Sir Sion. What is it?”

Apur answered, clearly excited.

Sion sighed and chose his words carefully.

“…Let’s stop the act.”

“Hm?”

“I know you’re not drunk.”

His skin, sweat, and heartbeat were all remarkably calm. Sion had seen the physical changes of drunkenness many times.

Slave traders had been like that. Guastain had been like that.

There was no way Sion couldn’t tell.

‘So you’re trying to manipulate me while I’m distracted by the atmosphere…’

He wouldn’t allow that.

“Just tell me what you want quickly. Staying here feels like a waste of time.”

“How can you say such a disappointing thing? I’m simply honoring the hero who saved Foils!”

“Then just give me a large sum of money and be done with it. There’s no reason for you to go to such lengths for me, a mere knight from a small sect who isn’t even part of the Order of the Holy Sword.”

“…It seems you’ve misunderstood.”

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving.”

Sion abruptly stood up. He was ready to gather his things and leave without hesitation.

That was just who Sion was. This wasn’t a warning—it was a declaration.

“What! Wait, Sir Sion!”

Sion put his cloak back on, sheathed his sword, and pushed in his chair.

Loenhaugter also frowned and placed his hand on his sword hilt.

They both knew this was a dangerous move. They might even turn the entire massive city of Foils into an enemy.

But it was better than being manipulated by a scheming merchant. If it came to it, they’d just destroy everything.

Sion walked toward the door of the meeting room. He didn’t hesitate at all.

Behind him, he could feel the tension in Loenhaugter, the watching servants, and Apur’s growing unease.

“Thank you for your hospitality. Well then, I’ll be—”

Just as Sion reached for the doorknob,

“P-please! I have a request!”

Apur cried out, stumbling to his feet.

Sion released the knob and turned around.

“So you did have a request after all, Guildmaster Apur.”

The cunning youth wore a sly, unpleasant smile.

“Damn it…!”

Apur stood straight, as if he had never been drunk, and poured himself more wine.

“So, what is this urgent request that required all this effort?”

Sion asked smugly, feeling he had seized control of the conversation. His fist clenched tightly.

Apur swallowed another glass of wine, then opened his mouth very carefully.

“I’d like you… to kill someone for me.”

An assassination request.

Sion’s gaze turned icy cold.

Was this mere merchant really daring to ask a priest of the goddess to commit such a filthy deed?

How lowly did he think Sion was?

It was a situation almost impossible to tolerate.

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