22: Chapter 22 High Priestess Alia! An Attempt at Seduction and Blasphemy?

Three days later.

Gino City, Dawn Cathedral.

Rowan finally got the chance to pray to Chief Priestess Aliyah Windsor.

It couldn't be helped; who told him he was just an inconspicuous minor baron from a remote territory? He had to wait in line.

At dusk, the setting sun lit up the stained glass windows on the west side of the cathedral.

Led by a novice monk, Rowan passed through the side gallery echoing with evening prayer hymns and arrived before a prayer room.

"Please wait here; Priestess Aliyah will arrive shortly." The monk bowed and withdrew.

The prayer room was small, only large enough for three to five people to kneel.

On the white jade altar in the center, the relief of the Goddess of Dawn spread her hands, her palms holding an ever-burning silver lamp.

There was a faint scent in the air, like cedar mixed with peppermint.

The door was pushed open silently.

Aria Windsor walked in.

She was still in her pure white priestly robes, but she had removed her solemn daytime headpiece. Her long silver-white hair was simply tied behind her head, with a few stray strands hanging beside her ice-sculpted cheeks.

She held a heavy leather-bound scripture in her hands, her fingertips resting lightly on the gold-stamped spine.

"Good evening, Baron Rowan," she said, her voice much gentler than it had been the night of the ball.

"I heard you require prayer. I am willing to guide you; the Goddess hears the pleas of all believers."

Rowan touched one knee to the ground, his right hand over his heart and his left hand hovering over the floor, performing a standard believer's salute. He said:

"Priestess, in times of turmoil, the soul needs guidance even more. Though my White Cliff Territory is remote, I have heard of the Crimson Knights' atrocities."

"As a lord, I am both concerned for the safety of my people and... confused by the Goddess's will."

He spoke slowly, every word carrying just the right amount of weight.

Meanwhile, deep in his consciousness.

Charm Lv3, activate!

Rowan looked up, letting his amber pupils meet her gaze.

A deep, dark red flash vanished in an instant.

Aria's ice-blue eyes also watched him.

For a moment, her long eyelashes seemed to tremble extremely slightly, like wind passing over a snowy plain.

But in the next second, her gaze returned to being as clear as a lake's surface.

"Rise, Sir. Before the Goddess, all souls may stand upright."

She walked to a high-backed chair by the altar and sat down, placing the scripture on her lap. "Why are you confused?"

Rowan stood up accordingly and sat on another chair.

"I have read the codex of morning light, which says the Goddess grants land and authority to nobles to shepherd the lambs, not to build high walls for themselves."

He weighed his words, his gaze falling sincerely on the scripture on her lap. "But now, the nobles of the Northlands have closed their doors and are recruiting more guards. Some have even... begun to expel freemen who have come seeking refuge, fearing they might be spies for the Crimson Knights."

"This seems contrary to the way of shepherding. If protecting the people requires closing the gates first, does this protection itself become another form of imprisonment?"

He posed a real-world problem, his tone carrying just the right amount of bewilderment.

Meanwhile, those invisible ripples of Charm continued to linger, attempting to secretly influence the other's perception.

Priestess Aliyah listened quietly.

Her fingers lightly brushed over the embossed patterns on the scripture's cover.

A few seconds later, she spoke, her voice still steady but her pace slightly slower.

"book of morning light, Chapter Seven, Fourth Proverb: [The true walls are built within the heart. The foolish block enemies with stone and wood; the wise discern souls with light.]"

"Closing the gates cannot stop the shadows, for shadows are born in the human heart. The Goddess bestowed the power of discernment for this very purpose, rather than letting fear replace judgment."

When she quoted the doctrine, a scholarly light seemed to flash in the depths of her ice-blue eyes.

That light suddenly made her seem less untouchably divine and distant, adding a bit of vitality.

"So the Priestess believes that accepting refugees is the right path? Even if danger might be hidden among them?"

Rowan pressed further, his body leaning forward almost imperceptibly, a faint fragrance swirling at the tip of his nose.

His Charm skill quietly increased in intensity, like night mist trying to seep through the cracks of a window.

Aria looked up, meeting his eyes again.

This time, her brow furrowed almost invisibly, so fast it seemed like an illusion.

She seemed to feel a subtle disturbance, like a speck of dust falling onto a calm lake, but it vanished instantly.

"Judgment and scrutiny are the responsibilities of a lord. Indiscriminate exclusion is laziness and fear."

Her answer was still rigorous, but she paused for a moment before continuing, "That the Baron has such confusion already places him above many who only care about building walls. The Goddess commends a heart that seeks."

...

The twenty-minute prayer time quickly came to an end.

Three soft knocks came from outside the door.

Aria closed the scripture on her lap and stood up. "May the Goddess's morning light guide your path, Sir Rowan. If your territory needs the Church's comfort, you may inform the cathedral."

"Thank you for your guidance, Priestess Aliyah." Rowan bowed deeply, his gaze finally sweeping over her fair, slender hand.

"Your explanation has given me a new understanding of the book of morning light. Perhaps... I should study it carefully again."

He exited the prayer room.

As he turned to leave, he could feel that ice-blue gaze seem to linger on his back for a moment.

Inside the prayer room, Aria Windsor did not leave immediately.

She walked to the small stained-glass window. The setting sun shone through the glass, casting warm spots of light on her cheeks and priestly robes.

That young baron just now... was a bit strange.

His questions did indeed hit upon some of the current dilemmas of the Northland nobles, and his expression and tone were impeccably devout.

But for some reason, when he looked at her, the lake of her heart seemed to experience an extremely faint ripple.

It wasn't hostility, nor was it profanity; it was more like... a warm current that made one subconsciously want to relax their guard?

She shook her head, dispersing this inexplicable feeling from her mind.

Was the pressure from the clues in the investigation of the Crimson Knights too great lately?

That fallen organization lurking in the shadows of the Northlands acted mysteriously, and its connections with certain nobles seemed deeper than expected.

She had come to Gino County with the primary task of cooperating with the Bishop to clear up these undercurrents, not to dwell on a minor border noble.

She turned, her white robes cutting a graceful arc as she walked toward another door deep within the prayer room.

It led to the archives inside the cathedral and her place of meditation. There were also several dossiers brought from the Inquisition that needed to be reviewed.

After Rowan walked out of the cathedral's magnificent bronze doors.

He turned back and looked at the towering spires and the Dawn Emblem reflecting the golden light.

He began an initial contact assessment in his mind:

Aria Windsor has a deep understanding of the Church of Dawn's doctrine, and her manifestation of faith is internalized and firm.

The Charm skill had minimal effect, but a very preliminary non-hostile subconscious impression has been established.

Follow-up can use discussing and seeking guidance on doctrine as an entry point to rationalize high-frequency contact.

"The Church of Dawn's doctrine, huh... It seems I really do need to study it well," Rowan murmured, a subtle curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.

He turned, not toward the eastern city where the nobles lived, but toward a relatively plain architectural area on the side wing of the cathedral.

There was a row of gray stone houses with a wooden sign hanging at the door:

"Church of Dawn Scripture Transcription and Canonical Book Purchase Office"

Half an hour later, Rowan walked out of the scripture office holding several thick new books.

The top one was "codex of morning light: Annotated Edition," followed by "Complete Collection of the book of morning light," "Acts of the Northern Saints," and "Goddess's Prayers and Daily Spiritual Devotion Guide."

As well as a relatively thinner one, "Soul Discernment in Light: A Brief Treatise on Speculation in Faith."

The books weren't cheap, but the binding was solid and the paper was heavy, carrying the scent of ink and old parchment.

Holding the stack of books, he walked through the flow of people toward Maplewood Manor in the west of the city.

Real estate prices in Gino City had more than doubled in the past two months with the influx of many noble refugees.

As a baron from a remote area, he was short on funds and couldn't afford a decent mansion that cost thousands of gold coins.

Lady Lillian's invitation had become the most convenient choice. After all, he didn't stay for free.

The manor's servants were already familiar with this handsome baron who had been staying recently. They bowed silently and took his coat.

Rowan politely declined dinner, asked only for a pot of mint tea, and went straight back to the guest room on the second floor facing the window.

Closing the door, the noise of the outside world was cut off by the heavy oak door and the rustling of the maple forest.

He lit the silver candelabra by the desk and spread several scriptures out on the table.

First, he opened the "codex of morning light."

He skipped the lengthy creation myths and the general outline of the commandments, directly finding the chapter on the responsibilities and right of asylum of lords.

He carefully read the priest's annotations next to it.

Then it was the "book of morning light." He repeatedly mulled over the proverb about "discernment" that Aria had quoted.

And he looked for related teachings in the preceding and following text.

The "Acts of the Northern Saints" recorded the deeds of several saints who had held fast to protecting refugees during times of turmoil.

He made marks.

Finally, that book "Soul Discernment in Light."

Although it seemed like a popular little book for new believers, some of the discussions on "faith and rational doubt" and "ritual and inner sincerity" were quite clever in their perspective.

The candlelight flickered as night fully descended outside the window.

Rowan flipped through the pages quickly at times.

At other times, he took notes on memo pads.

And sometimes he leaned back in his chair, lost in thought while watching the dancing flames.

Aria Windsor's thinking was clear and sharp; her ability to quote doctrine at will wasn't due to rote memorization but rather a kind of internalized understanding.

She seemed to place particular importance on concepts like "discernment," "responsibility," and "inner persistence."

Simply asking about shallow dogmas would probably quickly lead to her boredom.

He needed to find some... sincere, deep points of confusion that could both show his seeking heart and naturally trigger discussion.

Even... touching upon her personal understanding of the doctrine.

Perhaps he could start with "the boundaries of a lord exercising the right of judgment during turmoil"?

Or the theological tension between "the Goddess's attitude toward violence" and "the right of noble self-defense"?

The potential subtle differences between the conduct of the Northern Saints and the current official position of the Church was also a gray area worth exploring...

He was immersed in thought, planning the timing and topics for his next consultation.

A warm fragrance, a mix of tuberose and amber, quietly filled the study.

A pair of soft, cool arms slowly wrapped around his neck from behind.

A voluptuous body pressed lightly against his back, carrying the damp moisture and languor after a bath.

"When did my little baron become so devout?" Lady Lillian's voice sounded against his ear, carrying a hint of playfulness and an undetectable probe.

"'codex of morning light'? 'Soul Discernment in Light'? These don't seem like books you would usually read... Could it be that after one trip to the cathedral, you've been converted by that ice beauty priestess?"

Her fingertips slid across the pages in his hand, then she gently lifted his chin, turning his face toward her.

In the candlelight, she wore only a silk nightgown, her eyes—carefully painted with alluring eyeshadow—looked at him softly:

"Let's do something more interesting instead!"

...