I'm Going to Seal You Inside a Divine Statue!

The viscount was a little eager to try his luck.

As Miss Cleric had said, they had met as children. Back before she started wearing a veil, they had seen each other plenty of times.

But when Aaron recalled his embarrassing past, his forehead creased.

The old "Aaron Salian" had been mortifying.

Whenever that Aaron saw the beautiful Miss Cleric, he turned into a slack-jawed fool who could barely walk.

Damn it. How had he been that embarrassing?

It's fine. I'm not who I used to be!

Aaron swallowed and fixed his gaze on Miss Cleric as she removed her veil.

When Miss Cleric removed her veil, breathtaking beauty appeared before Aaron.

He stared, momentarily stunned.

Eleanor let down her lustrous golden hair. Beneath her delicate half-elf ears hung a pair of shining silver crescent earrings. Wisps of fringe brushed her arched brows, while golden strands framed her luminous fair skin. Her face held a sacred beauty, gentle yet classical. Sapphire-blue eyes seemed capable of expressing a thousand feelings with the slightest glance. Moonlight's holy radiance appeared to rest upon her unpainted face, lending it a pure, sacred air. Her slender, cherry-pink lips were like a plum blossom blooming in snow. Any man who saw her would put aside impure thoughts and feel only awe.

She was not particularly tall, but her figure was beautifully proportioned. At five foot four, she wore a thin yet formal white bellflower dress adorned with crystal-like frost diamonds. Her exposed neck and collarbones were smooth and lustrous, accented by purple bellflowers. A faint, elegant fragrance surrounded her, subtly intoxicating and alluring. Paired with her long, ballerina-like figure, the dress traced her curves to perfection.

The fitted skirt hugged her slender waist and rounded hips, accentuating her curvaceous figure. Her long, fair legs had graceful, unbroken lines. When Miss Cleric removed her boots and stockings, her bare legs were revealed, their healthy, luminous skin showing not a single vein to spoil their beauty. The graceful curves of her shapely legs were elegance itself, their seductive appeal impossible to miss.

Miss Cleric quickly changed into the inn's slippers. The tops of her feet were smooth and delicate, their fine bone structure visible. Five pale toes peeked neatly from each slipper, strangely alluring in the dim candlelight, while her slender ankles looked as smooth as polished jade.

So Miss Cleric really is a stunning beauty! Aaron was secretly astonished. He had thought she might be pretty, but not this pretty.

"D-don't keep staring!" Even in private, Eleanor felt embarrassed without her veil. She cried out in annoyance, looking a little regretful as her bare feet drew back. "Keep looking and I'll hit you!"

"Beautiful things deserve to be admired." Aaron's mouth felt dry. He swallowed and tried to keep his expression normal. "Miss Eleanor, I'm sure you've heard this many times, but I still have to say it. You're beautiful. You shine like the brightest star in the night sky."

"You... You can think it without saying it!" Miss Cleric brandished her warhammer at Aaron. Though she still wore her long inner dress, his gaze somehow made her feel as if she wore nothing at all. Her cheeks burned, and she nearly ordered him out.

Then she remembered that this was his room. She had only agreed to stay here after his earnest invitation.

"Does it... really smell that bad?" Under Aaron's invasive gaze, the strange question slipped out of Miss Cleric's mouth before she could stop herself.

"Of course not." Aaron rose and naturally took Miss Cleric's cleric's robe from her hands. Bugbear brains, blood, and bodily fluids stained it. Smiling beside the flushed Miss Cleric's ear, the viscount said, "Don't worry. As long as you're with me, I promise you'll smell lovely!"

Before Eleanor could answer, Aaron heard footsteps outside and opened the door. An attendant came in carrying several buckets of hot water. Eleanor's expression shifted as she considered whether to hit him, hit him, or hit him. Aaron spoke as casually as ever. "You wash first. I'll go downstairs for a while. After everything that's happened, I could use a drink to relax. I'll send your robe to the laundry."

"I won't make a fuss just because you're here, or behave differently because you're a beautiful woman." Aaron reached the door and looked back.

"Good." Eleanor's exquisite face relaxed a little. "Go do what you need to do. Don't worry about me. You should watch out for yourself, Lord Viscount."

"Don't worry. We're inside an inn. Any disputes ought to be settled outside the walls—unless it's a bar fight." Aaron smiled, jingled the key in his hand, and shut the door.

The moment the door closed, his smile vanished.

The viscount walked along the cold, damp stone floor of the inn's third story. His footsteps rang clearly against the thick stone.

Tama Qiaoya was a shrewd innkeeper. He had made the floors like this on purpose.

Aaron did not actually need a bath. Having awakened Slaanesh's power, he possessed Slaanesh's domain, which automatically repelled dust, odors, and filth. Unless he was wounded or affected by a sustained magical effect, he remained clean.

Aaron assessed his situation.

After testing her just now, he was nearly certain Miss Cleric had not informed on or betrayed him.

Of course. How could Eleanor, a devout follower of the Lady of Silver, wish him harm?

He had even managed to break down Eleanor's old impression of him and present himself anew as an intelligent, kind, charming young man. He could not say how much she admired him, but she certainly did not dislike him.

Then where is the enemy coming from? Aaron narrowed his eyes.

The Dark Sun Prince Cyric really was hunting godspawn. It was unfortunate that Cyric's followers had mistaken him, a Child of Chaos, for one, but Aaron could understand why. His Extraordinary Charisma was too much like a godspawn's. In fact, he had more of it than a godspawn should possess.

Extraordinary attributes belonged to deities alone.

Mortals had once compared human attributes on a rough scale. Taking the midpoint for an ordinary mortal as a baseline, values followed a normal distribution, with higher and lower extremes growing rarer. A high attribute was proof of strength.

Humans were relatively charismatic among mortals, so their range tended toward the right side of that distribution, with a comparatively high average.

For example, if a mortal's charisma was abysmally low, he could parade down the street shouting at the top of his lungs and still scarcely draw attention. To ordinary people, the sight would look something like this:

Why is a pile of shit moving down the street? Someone get the night-soil collector!

That was an extreme case, of course. A humanoid's charisma generally could not be too low.

If someone's charisma fell below even the midpoint, people would tend to distrust and dislike him no matter how reasonable or logical his words were. Communities that placed great value on appearance, including many elves and half-elves, might even forbid such ugly creatures from entering their settlements.

There were exceptional mortals, even legendary champions at the peak of mortal power, whose remarkable charm, eloquence, and overwhelming presence drew the attention of deities with every move. Yet their charisma could not surpass the mortal limit.

Mortal attributes had limits. Even those blessed with divine power through ties to a deity could not easily exceed them. The bard had mentioned one such figure: Queen The Simbul, also known as Alassra Silverhand. She was one of the Seven Sisters of the North, a legendary archmage, a Chosen of the Second Goddess of Magic, a daughter of the Goddess of Magic, and a bearer of her divine Silver Fire. According to Candlekeep scholars' authoritative estimate, her charisma stood at the very peak of what was possible for a mortal.

Aaron's charisma, however, had unquestionably passed that threshold. Mere good looks could not explain it. Only a deity's power could.

That was Extraordinary Charisma.

Beyond the mortal limit lay the realm of deities, where attributes rose by staggering, exponential leaps.

A legendary barbarian, for instance, could fuse with primal wild power and push his constitution past the mortal limit.

Trolls set that limit for mortal constitution. Those monstrous creatures could regrow severed limbs and even had a chance of recovering after their heads were cut off.

Yet a legendary barbarian with extraordinary constitution could bathe in lava and remain active for hours in an airless void.

I'm not a godspawn. I'm even more outrageous than one! thought a certain Child of Chaos who had only just unlocked Slaanesh's power.

The threat from the Dark Sun Prince Cyric was real. Aaron knew he would have to avenge Hicks's death sooner or later.

But why was someone within Cormyr moving against him as well?

Cormyr was a model monarchy on the continent. Aaron was a native Cormyr noble through and through, and both his parents had died serving the kingdom during the Time of Troubles. It would be understandable if the autocratic princess disliked paying a stipend to an idle noble who had yet to show his worth—the old Aaron had been mediocre in every respect. But sending people to investigate him on suspicion of treason and collusion with Dark Sun followers was bizarre.

Fortunately, Aaron had prepared. He had the Lady of Silver Selûne's backing, Eleanor's testimony, and an explanation he had rehearsed beforehand.

He was deeply grateful for Selûne's help and vowed to repay her one day.

No. It can't be the Dark Sun Prince's people. He's a new god, and Cormyr is the domain of good and lawful deities. He couldn't have infiltrated it in just two years.

There must be another faction that's noticed me.

Is Suzail really safe? I'm still weak, and I've only just awakened Slaanesh's power. If there are enemies in Suzail too, wouldn't going back be walking into a trap?

But where else could I go? Suzail is still the safest place for me. My family and friends are there, along with the connections my parents left me, an annual stipend of eight hundred Golden Lions, and a residence near the royal palace.

I'll get back to Suzail first, then judge the situation as it develops.

With the Queen's Blades here, I should be summoned by Her Highness Alusair once I return, assuming nothing unexpected happens.

With his immediate plans settled, Aaron went back down to the inn's common room.

It was already nine in the evening, and the room was less lively than before. Several Queen's Blades sat in a corner, watching everyone with hostile eyes.

"Oh! The last Salian!" Ferrara, the mercenary captain, let out a theatrical cry when he saw Aaron. "Why aren't you keeping that beauty company? What are you doing down here with us stinking men? This isn't the place for you!"

"I'd love to keep her company, but the beauty didn't seem to want me around. She threw me out." Smiling, Aaron spun the large key around his forefinger as he took a seat beside Ferrara. "What's wrong, Mr. Ferrara? The mood seems a little off."

"A gin, please," Aaron ordered.

The mercenary captain rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. Montero, another mercenary leader, said indignantly, "It's those Obarskyr lapdogs in the corner—"

"Hey!" Ferrara shot Montero a glare. Realizing he had spoken out of turn, Montero quickly fell silent.

"Those men checked our adventuring permits," Ferrara explained to Aaron. "We told them over and over that we're an adventuring party you hired, but they insisted on an inspection unless we paid a 'special passage fee' of ten gold coins. From the look of them, they weren't leaving without the money. Good thing you showed up."

"Lord Salian, how long is your kingdom going to carry on like this? Will it only be satisfied when no one can do business or take mercenary work anymore?" Montero was plainly still angry. "You're a viscount and a noble of the kingdom. Can't you say something?"

"They searched even me whenever they pleased. What do you think I can do?"

With a wry smile, Aaron accepted the gin from the attendant and took a small sip. The liquor was clear and colorless, with an unusual fragrance and a smooth, refreshing taste.

Aaron glanced toward the bar.

Behind it, the innkeeper Tama Qiaoya smiled at him and mouthed, "It's on me," then raised his glass.

Aaron raised his glass in return.

He was appreciating the benefits of Extraordinary Charisma more and more.

"Oh, that key! Lord Viscount, I've never stayed in a noble suite in Cormyr," Ferrara said, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the key on Aaron's finger. "I've heard that nobles may seem to earn far less than adventurers like us, but they have a purse they never have to fill themselves. Whenever they need to spend money, it never comes out of their own pockets. Tell us, is it true?"

"Isn't that how things work everywhere?" Aaron smiled mysteriously. "You came from Zambia. Don't tell me you've never seen it for yourselves."

"Of course, of course! Hahaha! Come on, cheers, Lord Viscount. You're a pleasure to talk to!" Ferrara burst out laughing.

The rest of the mercenaries joined in. Compared with other nobles, Aaron made them feel remarkably at ease. Before they knew it, they wanted to tell him everything on their minds.

"Ah, none of that has anything to do with us. Mercenaries like us spend every day figuring out how to get adventuring permits and scrape together enough money to satisfy those bastards in the cities. We're just trying to make a living, one job at a time. Who has the luxury of worrying about the day after tomorrow?" Ferrara laughed and clapped Aaron on the shoulder. "If all goes well tomorrow, Lord Viscount, we'll have another fine gift for you!"

"Oh? I look forward to it." Aaron did not refuse.

It was his rightful share, and he accepted it without hesitation.

If he refused, that would be what looked suspicious.

The day after tomorrow? Aaron lifted his glass, turning the words over in his mind.

Then he tipped back his head and drained it.

About twenty minutes later, Aaron returned to the inn's third floor carrying two buckets of hot water. He took out his key and unlocked the door.

The heavy wooden door had opened only a crack when a piercing scream struck his ears.

"Aaaah!"

"Aaron Salian!!!"

"I'm going to seal you inside a divine statue!"

Updated! It's double monthly vote season... not that it seems to make much difference, but please leave a comment on this chapter!