Without the City Guard stepping in, Gret's treatment would most likely have been a toss into the dungeon, with a side of bamboo-shoot-fried-flesh punishment or some other special.
As for when he'd see daylight again, that depended on whether Captain Karen could get the City Guard to come and spring him.
Without the Temple of the God of War stepping in, Gret would most likely have been thrown into some side hall, where a priest would grill him from the moment he arrived. If he was lucky, they might let him exchange a few words with Roman Knight.
By convention, at the same rank, spellcasters held higher status than warriors. The High Priest of the Spring Goddess's temple could stand as an equal to the lord of Hartland City, while the City Guard was merely subordinate to the lord's estate. Even though Captain Nolan was a seventh-level knight, equal in rank to the High Priest, he was still a rung below him.
But now, the bald Bishop was strolling beside the High Priest with a genial smile. Rank and combat strength aside, the heads of two different temples were technically equals. Since the Bishop had said he wanted to observe, the High Priest could only lead them to the main hall and grudgingly arrange seats.
The High Priest stood high on the pulpit, with several low-ranking priests lined up behind him in a fan formation. Knight Nolan settled in on the right side of the main hall. The bald Bishop repeatedly declined the offer of a better seat and sat among the congregants in the audience. As for Gret's seat, he glanced around—and, well, there it was: the defendant's dock.
And it was the dock for criminal trials.
Was this really how little they thought of him? Could he ask for a defense lawyer?
Unfortunately, there were no lawyers. Knight Nolan had taken the defense seat. He looked pretty intimidating, but his skill at defending someone remained to be seen.
What annoyed Gret even more was that Roman Knight's seat was on the left side of the temple, directly facing their own Captain Nolan. That was the prosecutor's seat! He got to sit where the prosecutor belonged, while Gret had to stand in the dock?!
I didn't commit a crime!
I really didn't commit a crime!
Gret was annoyed. Roman Knight, summoned over from a side hall, looked like his eyes were shooting flames. Seeing Gret standing casually below the dais, without the slightest hint of fear, he trembled all over, as if he wanted to pounce on him and tear him apart with his bare hands.
"You! It was you! You're the one who did this to me! My hand, my hand!"
Gret was startled.
In just one day, Roman Knight looked like he'd withered away. His face was ashen, his cheeks sunken, and his strong jaw was covered in a dense layer of stubble. His once-neat short hair had gone limp and was now a disheveled mess atop his head. Gret glanced at him and sighed inwardly.
He knew this change all too well. Back in the hospitals of his previous life, he'd seen patients who learned they had terminal illnesses, family members who received devastating news, and people who couldn't scrape together enough money to get treatment for themselves or their loved ones...
In a single night, or even just an hour or two, a person's whole spirit could collapse like that.
Compared with them, Roman Knight still had a little fight left in him. But even that soon faded. He looked around, saw Knight Nolan of the City Guard sitting opposite him, then spotted the Bishop of the Temple of the God of War below. His expression shifted at once. Pain, resentment, disbelief—one emotion after another flashed across his face, and his whole body began to tremble.
He sat there stunned for a while, then slowly lowered himself into his seat, his back curling forward inch by inch.
Gret watched him without showing what he was thinking. On closer inspection, Roman Knight's right thumb was still in the same condition as yesterday: he couldn't fully straighten or bend it. Any doctor with experience could tell its shape was abnormal.
So even high-level healing potions weren't all-powerful...
Gret lowered his eyelids slightly. The High Priest looked at Roman Knight and sighed, then turned left and nodded. A fifth-level priest behind him stepped forward and spoke loudly.
"Gret Nordmark?"
"That's me."
"Roman Knight accuses you of colluding with a necromancer and seriously injuring him. What do you have to say?"
Gret was taken aback. He stared at the priest who'd asked the question, then looked at Roman Knight, who seemed to have completely collapsed, as if his spine had been pulled out. Slowly, his mouth fell open.
Bro, are you really that unpopular?
With all these bigwigs here, the priest in charge of questioning was still asking questions like that. He wasn't trying to get me killed—he was trying to get you killed!
After a moment of sympathy, Gret remained calmly where he stood. He raised his eyes, met the High Priest's gaze, and spoke clearly.
"I didn't!"
"Gret Nordmark!"
The fifth-level priest who was questioning him in the High Priest's place barked.
"Watch your attitude! Roman Knight is a noble knight of the temple. Would he really frame you?"
What was so special about being framed? Plenty of patients were discharged after being cured, only to turn around and file complaints against their doctors. Gret silently rolled his eyes and calmly retorted.
"What does Priest Donald say?"
"Priest Donald is reflecting in seclusion. Don't drag other people into this. Talk about yourself!"
Gret looked at Roman Knight and sighed. It seemed Roman Knight had pulled some serious strings to get Priest Donald confined for reflection ahead of time, all just to get back at him. Why bother? Why go to all that trouble? He was already crippled. Wouldn't it be better to use those connections to secure his own future?
Besides, if you're going to pull strings, at least pull the right ones! Look at that—when your life was on the line, someone stabbed you in the back, didn't they?
Gret's answer came even more easily.
"My squad and I were on a routine patrol when the temple guards requisitioned us to join the search. After we went to sleep last night, a temple guard spotted a skeleton soldier. My entire squad gathered, and we stormed the castle basement.
"After Roman Knight killed the gargoyle, he was about to open the inner door when the necromancer appeared and knocked everyone there unconscious in a single blow—including me."
Gret stopped and spread his hands.
When I went down there, the necromancer hadn't arrived yet. By the time the necromancer showed up, I'd already been knocked out.
How could I have colluded with him when I didn't even have the time?
He glanced from side to side. The High Priest stroked his beard and nodded without speaking. Captain Nolan smiled at him encouragingly, as if to say, "Don't be afraid. No one can frame you." As for what was behind him...
Gret couldn't see the bald Bishop's expression, but he could hear his voice. It was still as booming as ever; when he spoke, the whole hall reverberated.
"I heard the whole story from young John, too. Oh, young John is a newly ordained Priest Apprentice, and he took part in the search. What Gret said matches his report from this afternoon exactly."
Gret let out a long breath.
Thank you, Bishop!
Thank you for standing up for me and confirming my story!
Thank you, John, for reporting what happened right away!
With the Temple of the God of War stepping in, my account was far more credible. Now I didn't have to worry about them nitpicking!
Mm, I only got halfway through that battlefield first-aid lesson tonight. I'll write up the whole thing for you later!
All day, and I finally gained two followers, going from 498 to 500. Wiping away tears...
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