"Return Mother" Cult

Didn't expect to get taken down here—and run into a mage, too. What rotten luck! Pain washed over Saji's mind as he thought hazily.

Barefoot Saji was what the town's thugs called him. Saji was accustomed to going barefoot. In the dead of night, his silent bare feet would carry him into strangers' homes, and Saji always came away with something.

He was a thief, though only the buddies who helped him fence stolen goods knew that. It was a secret Saji kept well hidden. By day, he wandered the streets with a group of similarly scrawny young men; by night, he slipped out alone to work on his own.

His second secret was that he had joined the Underground Cult.

Before tonight, Saji's only other failed job had also taken place at an inn. The owner had not dragged the terrified little man off to the tribunal. Instead, he had shown him mercy, sent the attendants away, and untied him himself.

A kind gentleman! In Saji's eyes, the potbellied bald man had suddenly become warm and genial.

"Sir, what do you want me to do? Just don't lock me up and send me to the tribunal!"

"Don't be nervous, child." The innkeeper smiled strangely. "Have you heard of the World Mother?"

And so Saji joined an Underground Cult that called itself the "Return Mother." From time to time, the innkeeper gathered the other believers to preach its teachings. Saji did not really understand what the man was saying. He listened with the same attitude he had once used when listening to his grandmother's stories, then led the applause for the innkeeper every time. If his first secret let Saji spend more freely among the thugs and earn a little face, then his second, proud little secret represented a hope. Just as the innkeeper preached: if the great World Mother returned to the earth, Barefoot Saji would undergo a complete transformation and become even more noble than the Spellcasters and Divine Beneficiaries of today!

A poor little town could not make a thief rich, and the more he stole, the more people guarded against him. Saji found it harder and harder to find "stock" for his "business." The "kindhearted" innkeeper came to him again and offered Saji an excellent opportunity.

"Sir, by the Mother, I haven't made a score in days!"

"Saji, don't invoke the Mother's name for that sort of thing!" The innkeeper was stern at first, then suddenly smiled. "As a friend, I'll tell you some valuable news—there's a fat fish staying at my place, a rich man from the Imperial Capital."

"They have guards, boss. I can't do this job!"

"What are you afraid of? I see one proper merchant, one young master, and four coachmen stiff as logs. If you ask me, there are only two guards—a dwarf and a Half-elf! At dinner, I'll serve them some specially prepared wine and treat them well. I guarantee they'll sleep soundly. Understand?"

"I'll do it! I'd be letting you down if I didn't, boss!"

"He confessed as soon as we put some salt in his wounds." After Mr. Arle returned, Rorschach recounted the scrawny man's testimony to him.

"The Return Mother Cult? The merchant association has never heard of this heretical cult. Since the innkeeper is involved, we should leave at once."

"Why run?" Singlev was displeased. "We're the victims! We've got the young mage—Rorschach wouldn't let him call him master anymore—the ranger miss, and me!" The dwarf raised his hammer. "Let's capture the innkeeper too and have the lords of the tribunal give us justice!"

"Singlev! I am your employer now! Do as I say!"

Arle rarely lost his composure, but he quickly regained it and explained, "At every town inn, the owner we see is just a head attendant. Aren't the real owners either minor nobles or lords from the tribunal and council? And you want to go looking for them? Now that this involves an Underground Cult, wouldn't staying here to tangle with these people be asking for trouble?"

"Right, I was wrong! Don't be angry, sir!"

"I'm not angry! Get moving, my dwarf grandfather!"

Everyone mounted up, while the thief Saji was tied up tightly. The coachmen who had drunk the doctored wine were still somewhat dizzy. Mr. Arle used smelling salts to wake them, but when he reached Hag, he accidentally spilled the salts. Arle had to use his palm to perk him up instead.

Sing had drunk the most, yet Rorschach saw that the dwarf was still full of vigor. Dwarves had stronger poison resistance than ordinary humans. The Natural History Class textbook had not lied to him.

The convoy immediately set off.

The commotion still woke everyone at the inn. The innkeeper stood at the rear courtyard gate with a torch and shouted, "Mr. Arle, everyone, was the food at my humble establishment not to your taste? Or were the beds not soft enough? You paid a deposit, so surely you should stay the night before leaving?"

His words were polite, but the three or four attendants behind him all carried clubs, machetes, and pitchforks, striking a most hospitable pose.

"Mage Rorschach, please!"

Arle shouted loudly enough for everyone to hear. The word "mage" made those at the gate tense up.

Rorschach held the reins in one hand and formed a water bullet with the other, smashing it into an attendant. Hill raised her hand cannon as well, preparing to charge through on horseback.

A gap immediately opened at the gate.

"This two-bit hedge mage can only spray water. Don't be afraid, everyone! Stop them!"

What hedge mage? I'm certified by both the Mage Guild and the Empire, a properly trained professional! Rorschach dearly wanted to slap the innkeeper with his Imperial Royal Magic Academy graduation certificate.

Although the attendants had already hesitated upon seeing a mage in the other party's group, the innkeeper was still organizing them to block the way. Rorschach reconsidered, formed a massive Fireball, and hurled it at the stable. It smashed the wooden shed apart, setting the hay ablaze at once, accompanied by the shrieks of the innkeeper's own horses.

That move cowed the attendants, but they still did not clear the road.

"Should I praise their admirable courage?"

Rorschach raised his hand and fired another. Both its speed and power surpassed those of an ordinary low-tier mage. This time, the Fireball landed on the inn's thatched roof, and flames immediately soared into the sky.

"The next one goes at you! Move!" Now none of the attendants dared underestimate the young master. They watched his right hand curl in the air as another Fireball began to gather.

The innkeeper's face went pale, and he could only retreat. "Forget those outsiders! Damn it, put out the fire! Put out the fire!"

Illuminated by the blaze, the convoy charged out of the inn and raced without pause into the pitch-black wilderness.

With the wagons, they could not move very fast, especially at night. Fortunately, no one pursued them.

"Are you afraid of killing people?" At some point, Hill had drawn alongside Rorschach and asked him that.

"I don't want to. Why should a fine young man like me end up with blood debts piled high?"

"You're a mage. You're an adventurer."

"So?"

"When the thief approached you with a knife, you first tested him and tried to drive him away with a glowing stone. Then you aimed for his torso and limbs. Only when you thought that didn't work did you aim for his head."

"I just couldn't see clearly. Even if he got close to me, I could have shattered his knife into scraps."

"When we left the inn, you could have used Fireball on those people directly."

"They were blocking the gate. If I used Fireball, how would our convoy get out? Are we a circus that jumps through rings of fire?"

"All right. I understand." In the darkness, Rorschach could not make out Hill's expression.