What is an offensive priest?

Chapter 5 Campion's Scheme

Upon hearing this, Richard finally became somewhat interested and put down the wooden cup in his hand.

Kro continued.

"That cunning Cambyon, taking advantage of the Duke's trip to Eltoril, lured Will to Dusthawk Mountain, where he witnessed the bloodshed of the entire summoning ritual, thus enticing him to sign a magic pact in exchange for the power to stop the summoning ritual."

"As it turned out, Will did succeed, but he also sold his soul and became a servant of the devil!"

"Mizora also took advantage of the chaos to steal three key sacrificial artifacts: the Dragon Blood Grail, the Blasphemous Contract Scroll, and a black dragon egg that was hatching."

Richard understood immediately.

"So, this is why the Duke of Rivendare entrusted you with this task?"

Kro nodded.

"The Duke of Rivendare was furious, but the Flamefist Mercenary Group guards the Baldur's Gate, and the Duke couldn't easily mobilize them. So he entrusted us with the task of pursuing that blasphemer..."

Richard astutely noticed the flaw in the argument and interrupted.

"etc."

"As far as I know, even if Cambion is actually killed, those who have made a magical pact with her will not be saved unless she voluntarily breaks the pact."

"Are you sure the Duke of Rivendare wants to execute that Cambylon?"

Kro seemed to have anticipated Richard's questioning of this matter, and his smile was meaningful.

"Sir Richard, you also know that persuading a devil from hell is obviously unrealistic."

"Duke Ravengard has been blinded by personal feelings, but as one of the four noble families, I have a duty to protect the people of Faerûn from the devil."

Richard gave Crow a deep look. He didn't want to get involved in the power struggle among the Baldur's Gate nobles; he just wanted to quietly get rid of this troublesome creature before it caused any more trouble.

"What are your plans?"

Kro took an item from the mithril chain pouch at his waist.

It was a palm-sized compass, its surface etched with intricate hellish runes. The central pointer was not a magnet, but a suspended demon's toe bone.

"The Prison Oath Tracker," Kro explained. "It can lock onto entities associated with specific demonic pacts, but the energy storage gem that provides it was damaged in the previous battle with the goblins."

Richard glanced at it briefly and noticed a blue-purple gemstone embedded in the compass, with a crack on its surface.

He raised his hand and pointed to the blacksmith shop at the edge of the square.

Blacksmith Grun was sitting at the entrance of his shop, his curly beard covered in iron filings, sharpening the blade of a farm tool by the light of an oil lamp.

"Gron should be able to fix it."

"His grandfather was a member of the Sham Shui Po Blacksmiths Association. After retiring, he settled here and could repair any damaged items in the town."

"I already asked," Kro shook his head, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes.

"He said that repairing the gem requires three days of high-temperature forging, not ordinary charcoal fire, but must use extracts from the glands of lava lizards as fuel in order to reshape the magical structure of the resonant gem."

"The transport convoy from Deepwater City was recently hijacked by thieves from the Santalin Society."

Richard's fingers tightened slightly as he gripped the wooden cup.

"These rats have been really active lately; looks like I should go spread the teachings of our Lord!"

The drow mage, Avel, sat in the shadows far from the campfire, his deep eyes staring blankly at Richard. When Richard noticed him, Avel quickly turned his head away, pretending to be nonchalant.

Richard stood up and dusted off his shepherd's robe.

"Bring your people and wait for me at the church tomorrow morning."

Before Klo could respond, Richard had already turned and left.

A nobleman plotting a power struggle, a drow elf in disguise, and a thief hiding even deeper.

This adventure team is interesting...

When Richard returned to the monastery, it was already very dark.

Lady Serene's radiance hangs in the corner of the sky, spreading impartially and equally.

The lively sounds of the bonfires offering blessings in the distance could still be clearly heard, but the church and shrine remained solemn and quiet.

In the niches on both sides of the corridor, candlesticks burned with pale flames, the soft light of oil extracted from whale brains, so that it would not disturb the believers' meditation.

Richard intended to return to the library to organize his notes, but stopped when he passed the confessional.

The oak-carved door was ajar, with a sliver of light shining through the crack.

Faint sobs mingled with whispers, echoing softly in the empty corridor.

"I know this is presumptuous, but Pastor Richard is too dazzling today, I simply cannot resist..."

Inside the confessional.

Sister Sharon, with a devout expression, was confessing to the statue of Los Santos.

Her voice trembled slightly, carrying a hint of girlish shame.

Richard stood outside the door, listening to her recite his name, and couldn't help but feel curious.

Looking up, a panel appeared above Sister Sharon's head.

[Smelling the scent of Pastor Richard's ceremonial robes, practicing water magic without chanting...]

[Sin Value: 5]

Richard looked somewhat puzzled.

Just as she was about to leave quietly, the old oak door made an inopportune sound, attracting Sharon's attention.

"Lord Richard...you're back!"

Sharon sprang up like a startled fawn, her eyes filled with panic and shame, her movements noticeably hesitant.

"Yes, I came back early after the ceremony was over."

Seeing Richard's gaze fall on the ceremonial robe beside her, Sharon quickly turned around to block it, her little hands waving about awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry, Pastor Richard, I've soiled your vestment. I'll clean it for you right away!"

Richard didn't want to embarrass her, so he didn't dwell on the matter, but simply brought it up suddenly.

"I remember you've been transferred to the Blackrock Town Temple for a while now, haven't you contacted your family at all?"

Sharon was taken aback by what she heard, her slender fingers gripping the hem of her skirt tightened slightly, and her azure eyes dimmed a little.

After a moment of silence, a forced smile appeared on his lips.

"The Lortheran family doesn't need a daughter who reports her safety regularly; I only need to follow Pastor Richard and devote myself to spiritual practice."

Richard could tell that Sharon was a little down, so he didn't ask any further questions.

"You're leaving with those adventurers, aren't you? To hunt that Cambylon?"

Sharon was also present when Chloe invited Richard. She knew that, given Richard's personality, he wouldn't let the devil go unchecked.

Richard nodded.

"For the sake of dawn and hope, I must practice the teachings of Losanda."

Sharon pursed her thin lips, her deep blue eyes filled with a hint of hope.

"Is there anything I can help you prepare?"

Richard shook his head.

"While I am away, it is your mission to protect the temple of the Lord of Dawn."

Richard turned and left the confessional.

As the wooden door closed behind him, he heard a very soft sigh coming from inside.

Sister Sharon walked to the window, and a small silver seal appeared in her hand. The bottom of the seal was engraved with a trident wrapped around a water snake, which was the crest of the Lortheran family.

Pressing the stamp against the windowpane, the cold moisture spread continuously, condensing into a thin layer of frost on the glass surface.

She used her fingers as a pen to write on the frost, not in Common or Elvish, but in a more ancient and fluid rune.

She wrote slowly, carefully considering each rune.

Finally, a simple message was left on the frost.

"A divine light has appeared, but it may not be the one the ancestors were searching for!"

She exhaled softly after finishing the last stroke.

The warm breath melted the thin frost on the window, and the runes vanished as if they had never existed.

Sister Sharon retrieved the seal and held it in her palm.

The cool touch of the silver made her tremble slightly.

"May the dawn guide you, Reverend Richard," she murmured to herself, her voice fading into the night breeze. "Return in peace."