Pastor of Vows

His original plan to pose as "a fringe barbarian tribe fleeing disaster in the east" became riddled with holes, even laughable, given their current geographical location.

From the east? To the east lay a vast sea and sheer cliffs! Coming by water was simply impossible.

An overland route would take them either through the academy's territory, on a detour through the "Ruined Labyrinth" farther north, or straight from the Storm Dynasty.

Their appearance was as inexplicable as if they had sprung out of a crack in the rocks.

Once a Carian or academy patrol discovered and questioned them, they would immediately be exposed.

What awaited them then would not be sympathy and acceptance, but more likely suspicion and hostility, perhaps even extermination-who knew whether they were followers of some Outer God or spies sent by an enemy faction?

The glimmer of hope he had just seen was instantly overshadowed by the predicament reality presented.

Just then, the "pull" he had been suppressing all this time grew clearer and stronger than ever before.

It no longer pointed vaguely north, but became more specific, shifting its angle slightly toward the northeast-the barren highlands known as the "Eastern Tableland."

The feeling was so abrupt and unmistakable that it seemed to urge him from somewhere unseen: Go there. There lies a chance to turn things around.

Horace Loux gritted his teeth. There seemed to be no better choice now.

Rather than sit trapped in their predicament, he might as well follow this strange feeling and take things one step at a time.

At least the Eastern Tableland was sparsely populated and safe for the moment, and it would let the tribe avoid potential patrol routes.

He ordered them to break camp, and the entire group set out again, heading north along the lakeshore before turning northeast and following a faintly discernible path toward those desolate highlands.

The Eastern Tableland lived up to its name.

The ground here was elevated and the views expansive, but the soil was barren, strewn with sand, stones, and low thorny shrubs.

There were indeed few signs of people, only the occasional harmless wild animal.

The group made camp again in a sheltered hollow at the edge of the tableland. This spot offered better concealment.

Horace Loux climbed to the crest of a higher slope on the tableland and gazed into the distance.

To the northwest, above the outlines of mountains that seemed shrouded in a faint purple dusk haze, he could just make out the spire of a building.

The style of that spire... looked somewhat familiar.

The Church of Vows?

That dilapidated old church in the game, watched over by the giant tortoise Miriel?

It already existed now? And it looked... intact?

The "pull" reached its peak at that moment, pointing unmistakably toward the distant church.

Go. Go there.

Horace Loux drew a deep breath.

He glanced back at his people, busy settling into the hollow. The old and weak needed protection, and the camp needed work. He could not be away for too long.

"Uncle Uge," he said, calling over the experienced old warrior.

"I need to leave for a while to investigate a place. I'm leaving the camp in your hands. Tighten security. Without my orders, no one is to leave camp on their own, and above all, do not make contact with any outsiders. If you encounter a danger you cannot handle... prioritize protecting the elderly and children. Retreat toward the woods to the southeast and stay hidden as best you can."

Uge nodded firmly. "Rest assured, my lord. Take care of yourself."

Taking only his weapons and a little dry food, Horace Loux left the camp alone, heading northwest toward the faintly visible church spire.

The journey was longer than he had expected, and rougher too.

He first had to descend to the edge of the lake region, follow the shore for a stretch, then climb another highland.

Along the way, he carefully avoided any possible roads and traces of human activity, relying entirely on that "pull" and his own sense of direction.

By the time he finally climbed onto that highland and the ancient Church of Vows came fully into view, dusk had fallen.

Unlike the weed-choked church in the game, which showed the ravages of time and lonely decay everywhere, the church before him was old and simple, its stone walls covered in dark green vines, yet its structure remained intact. Its dome soared high, and its stained-glass windows reflected a warm luster in the lingering sunset.

It stood quietly on this relatively secluded highland, exuding a tranquil, peaceful, even faintly sacred air.

And the figure in the clearing before the church made Horace Loux's pupils contract slightly.

The first thing he saw was a shockingly massive outline-a tortoise.

This was no ordinary tortoise. It was comparable in size to Horace Loux, bearing a heavy shell covered in mysterious patterns, with a thick, long neck and a red, broad-brimmed clerical hat on its head that looked a little comical yet carried an air of solemnity.

It rested there quietly, like a stone sculpture that had existed since time immemorial, exuding a gentle yet profound presence.

Miriel, Pastor of Vows.

Tortoise buddy.

The moment he saw it, an inexplicable warmth stirred in Horace Loux's heart.

In his memories of the game, this seemingly sluggish giant tortoise was one of the few NPCs who remained gentle, kind, and willing to help regardless of the player's choices.

It guarded this ancient church, devoting itself to resolving conflicts and forging bonds of goodwill.

But at this moment, Miriel was not alone.

Beside its enormous body stood a quiet, armored figure.

It was a female knight, tall and straight-backed. Even clad in armor that covered her entire body, she still conveyed the graceful curves beneath it and a distinctive elegance.

Her armor was unlike any style Horace Loux had seen, silver-blue with flowing lines and graceful curves, its surface engraved with fine patterns resembling stars and crescent moons.

Most striking of all were her weapons-a pair of slender swords, their hilts and guards equally exquisite and ornate, perfectly suited to her overall bearing.

Although her helmet's visor concealed her features, Horace Loux recognized her almost instantly.

Rellana, Twin Moon Knight.

The younger sister of Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon, a member of the Carian Royal Family who would one day follow Messmer to the Land of Shadow aboard the Moon Boat.

And... another outstanding wielder of moon True Magic.

Why was she here? At this point in time, together with Miriel?

Horace Loux's arrival had clearly also drawn the attention of the two beings in front of the church.

The giant tortoise Miriel slowly turned its enormous head, looking toward Horace Loux with gentle black eyes that held no hostility, only mild curiosity and scrutiny.

The female knight, Rellana, turned slightly, and her gaze beneath the visor seemed to settle on Horace Loux.

Her bearing remained elegant and composed, but Horace Loux could feel that a subtle yet powerful presence had already locked onto him.

The air seemed to freeze.

Horace Loux stood below the stone steps in front of the church, looking up at the mountain-like giant tortoise and the elegant, dangerous female knight.

The setting sun stretched their shadows far across the ground, all the way to his feet.

Far from disappearing after he reached the church, the "pull" that had guided him here trembled faintly, as though, at the endpoint of the "Moon Boat," it had entered into some kind of resonance with the "Twin Moon Knight" before him.

He drew a deep breath, suppressed the turmoil within him, and spoke first, his voice ringing out before the church's empty surroundings:

"I mean no intrusion upon your peace. I am a lost traveler who followed the guidance of his heart to this place. May I ask, is this a sanctuary for forging bonds of goodwill?"

According to the Dark Moon Greatsword's description: [A Moon Greatsword, bestowed by a Carian queen upon her spouse to honor long-standing tradition.] The English text also refers to successive Carian queens in the plural.

If there had only been the Queen of the Full Moon, the plural probably would not have been used.

One can infer that this was not the first time the Carian family had become royalty, and that Rennala restored Caria rather than founded the Carian dynasty.

Looking at their coat of arms and that of the Eternal City, one could say they shared a common lineage.

However, the inhabitants of the underground Eternal City had the dark-skinned appearance of the Nightfolk, which did not match the Queen of the Full Moon.

There were too few Carian appearances available for reference, and it was uncertain whether Rennala was an exception.