Chapter Forty-Six: Arrival at Bath

When it came to the bandit chief’s words, both Saga and Aiolos were skeptical. How could there be bandits who didn’t kill? Even the most principled among them would have blood on their hands. But Link believed otherwise—though not because he was easily swayed or particularly shrewd at reading people. Rather, Bailing’s animal instincts had already told him that these men carried no killing intent, not even the faintest scent of blood. They were nothing like men stained by murder.

This was precisely why Link hadn’t immediately marched the group off to the authorities. He sensed that, at their core, these men were not evil, and their strength was nothing to scoff at. If he could bring them into the Church of the All-Father, it would be a welcome addition—especially when the church was sorely in need of grassroots strength.

As this thought crossed his mind, Link’s eyes flashed, and he put on the air of a mystic, declaring, “By the All-Father above, O lost lambs—I believe you. For a man’s eyes do not lie.”

At these words, surprise flickered across the faces of the bandit chief, Saga, and Aiolos. Yet, while the latter two quickly regained composure, familiar as they were with Link’s ways, the bandit chief could not hide his astonishment. “Father, you truly believe me?” he asked.

With a gentle smile, Link’s demeanor grew ever more priestly. “By the All-Father’s grace, the Most High tells me: Men may lie, but their eyes cannot. Thus, I believe you.” He paused, then continued, “Let me introduce myself: I am Neil Night, founder and archbishop of the Church of the All-Father. You do not strike me as evildoers. Tell me, why did you take to the hills? Can you share your story?”

“You are the founder of the Church of the All-Father?” The bandit chief’s surprise deepened, and he answered with reverent fear, “Your Grace, my name is Uther Mark. I was once a city guard in Jamore, but after being framed by a superior, I was forced to flee into the mountains. My companions here are just as I was—ordinary folk, driven to desperation by the nobles and officials of Jamore. We had no choice but to leave our homes. Gathering together, we built a hideout in the hills and survived by robbing passing merchants and nobles. Luckily, my experience as a guard allowed me to teach them some measure of martial skill.”

As he recounted their hardships, Uther sighed heavily before continuing, “Your Grace, we truly have never taken a life. I’ve heard travelers say the Church of the All-Father is merciful, and that you, too, are a merciful man. I do not ask for your forgiveness—only that you spare the others. They are but pitiable folk, forced by circumstance into banditry.”

Upon hearing Uther’s tale, the hot-blooded youths Saga and Aiolos were filled with sympathy for the bandits and outrage at the corrupt officials responsible for their plight. They could hardly restrain themselves from storming into Jamore to seek justice.

But who was Link? Having been thoroughly influenced by the internet, television, games, and novels in his previous life, he was well inoculated against such tales. No matter how tragic Uther’s story, it could not sway the heart of a born persuader.

Link merely put on a look of sorrowful compassion and said, “By the All-Father above, I have heard your story. Though you are worthy of sympathy, even the pitiable have their failings. You have robbed travelers time and again, seeking something for nothing—how are you different from those who drove you to this? From the moment you became bandits, you became sinners.”

Uther’s face flushed with shame, and he nodded despondently. “You are right, Your Grace. We are sinners. So I am willing to atone for them—just spare the others. They are only unfortunate souls forced into this life. I accept any punishment you deem fit.”

At this, even Saga and Aiolos wanted to plead for Uther, but Link gave them no chance to interject. “Lost lamb,” he said, “a man’s sins are his own to atone for. No matter how hard you try, you cannot redeem others’ sins.”

Uther’s face went pale. “You mean you won’t spare them?”

Before Saga or Aiolos could speak, Link shook his head. “No, you are mistaken. I do not intend to punish you. I will let you go.”

At this, joy broke across the faces of Uther, Saga, and Aiolos. But as Uther was about to thank him, Link continued, “But tell me, Uther Mark, is this truly the right path? These men may be but lost souls now, not yet hardened villains—but if they remain on this path, sooner or later, life will drive them to become true evildoers. Is that what you wish to see?”

Uther’s face stiffened, and he fell silent. He could not deny that such a future was possible. He’d already noticed some among them growing more unruly, others grumbling that being bandits without killing was too cowardly. He could keep them in check now, but what of the future, when he was old? Who could say what would become of their stronghold then?

With a bitter sigh, Uther shook his head. “Your Grace, I do not wish for that, but I have no other way. If we don’t remain bandits, we cannot survive. So long as the authorities keep us outlaws, we have no choice. If we could live decent lives, who would risk his neck in this trade?”

Link nodded. “So you still wish to atone?”

Uther was unsure why Link pressed the matter, but he nodded nonetheless. “None of us wants this life. If we could return to our old ways, everyone here would gladly do so. But do we have that chance?”

“There is always a chance.” Link’s expression grew beatific. “Uther Mark, lost lamb, take your people to Qinco Town. Go to the Grand Cathedral of Holy Light. There, before the All-Father, confess your sins. When you have truly repented, I, as Archbishop of the Church of the All-Father, will clear your names!”

Uther stared at Link in astonishment. “Your Grace, you—are you saying you will clear our names? That’s impossible! The one who declared us outlaws is Lord Bill Wharton of Jamore, a hereditary viscount. He wouldn’t change his mind for an outlander priest!”

“By the All-Father, whether it can be done is my affair, not yours. I have shown you the path; whether you walk it is up to you.” With those words, Link ordered Saga and Aiolos to release Uther, then turned and left in his carriage.

As Link and his companions departed, Uther watched with gratitude, then grew contemplative, recalling Link’s words. Looking at his unconscious followers, he suddenly seemed to reach a resolve, his expression firming as though making a momentous decision.

To Link and his group, this was only a minor episode. Saga and the others trusted Link implicitly and never doubted his choices. They believed he must have had his reasons. As for the wicked viscount, they hardly worried. They all knew that Count Lothar was a follower of the All-Father—so with him backing them, what did they have to fear from a mere viscount? In fact, they thought it a pity that Link hadn’t simply dealt with the villainous lord then and there.

Link could easily guess what his companions were thinking. In truth, he’d considered taking care of the corrupt viscount, but he was not so naïve. Religion was one thing; governance another. To act rashly would only bring trouble down upon the Church of the All-Father. Besides, the evils of a land are not changed by killing one or two men. Remove one villain, and who knows what the next will be like? Such problems must be solved at their root. He was certain that, once Count Lothar learned of these matters, he would not let them pass. Once in Bath City, he would mention it to the count.

In the days that followed, they traveled the main road without further incident, arriving at Bath City the day before the All Gods Festival.

As the provincial capital, Bath City was far larger than any other city in the Red Moon Province. The population exceeded two hundred thousand, and a grand canal connected the north and south of the Red Moon Kingdom, making trade flourish. Under Count Lothar’s governance, the city was thriving, the people prosperous and spirited—even the beggars lived better than the poor elsewhere.

For Saga, Aiolos, and Elia—youths who had never journeyed far—this city was paradise. Despite having seen many large towns along the way, they were still awestruck by Bath City’s grandeur, gaping at every sight like country bumpkins.

In contrast, Link and Lingmeng remained unruffled. Lingmeng, after all, had grown up in Bath City—the headquarters of the Celestial Spirit Church—so it was nothing new to her. As for Link, who had once lived in a nation of over a billion souls, how could a mere city of two hundred thousand impress him?

To the three young ones, Link and Lingmeng’s composure was the very model of grace under pressure. Their admiration was tinged with embarrassment, and they secretly vowed to emulate them—Elia especially so. The way Link and Lingmeng were both so calm made them look like a married couple, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

“No, from now on, whatever happens, I must stay calm. I can’t lose my head, or I’ll only fall further behind Lingmeng,” Elia silently swore as she glanced at Lingmeng, who sat with eyes serenely closed.

Link noticed her overt competitiveness and felt a pang of helplessness. This urge to compete in all things could easily lead one astray. He’d have to find a chance to talk to Elia, lest her stubbornness lead her into error.

But before that, Link had more pressing matters: a visit to the headquarters of the Celestial Spirit Church. The mysteries that had plagued his mind for so long needed answers—so much so that he postponed his visit to Count Lothar.