Chapter 52: A Father Comes to the Village!

Just as dawn was breaking, Ulyan rose early. Passing by his daughter’s room, he was suddenly startled to see Olivia, halfway through dressing, slipping out of Leo’s chamber.

Ulyan’s rage flared instantly, his eyes reddening. He was about to rush forward and skewer Leo with a spear, but when he turned his head, he saw the young man soundly asleep in his daughter’s room, arms wrapped around the little Mouse, both of them sleeping blissfully.

Ulyan was thoroughly confused. Had he mixed up the rooms? Perhaps age was catching up with him.

There was no time to dwell on it. He bellowed, “You little scoundrel! Do you know what time it is? Still lying in bed—useless! Good-for-nothing!”

The little Mouse scrambled up, quickly dressing and putting on her shoes, obedient as could be.

Leo, however, remained unmoved, lazily rolling over and asking, “All right then—what time is it, exactly?”

Ulyan was momentarily speechless. In Riverbend, there were no churches and no clocks; no one knew the time. Everyone simply woke up when they pleased.

Annoyed, Ulyan rolled up his sleeves, ready to teach the lazy youth a lesson. “Just look at you! Three days without a beating and you’ve grown bold!”

But before he could advance, Olivia caught his arm and gently persuaded him, “Father, aren’t you going to the Great Falls? I’ve already prepared everything you’ll need. Come with me to fetch it.”

Today, Ulyan was headed to the Wildfolk tribe to meet with Elder Zurwan and deliver some gifts in return for their previous visit to Riverbend—a courteous exchange.

While Bobak’s influence still lingered and there was no conflict between the settlements, Ulyan was eager to solidify their relationship. If he didn’t strike while the iron was hot and strengthen their ties, the moment a dispute arose—over a felled tree, perhaps, or a hunted animal—the two villages might well fall into armed conflict.

No one wanted a petty quarrel to escalate into war. But if the headman of Riverbend and the Wildfolk elder were friends, most issues could be settled with a word.

With more urgent matters at hand, Ulyan let Leo’s cheek slide and left with Olivia. They led a donkey, accompanied by two militiamen and bearing gifts, setting out for the Great Falls.

As soon as Ulyan departed, a gaggle of girls surrounded Olivia, eager for details about the previous night.

Blushing and stammering, Olivia finally confessed, “It hurt too much. Leo said I’m too young, and it would be better to wait another two years.”

The girls stared in disbelief at the shapely, alluring Olivia, doubting Leo’s sanity.

The young widow Agatha remarked disapprovingly, “Too young at sixteen? At sixteen, most girls are mothers!”

She grinned slyly and asked, “Or does he prefer older women? What about twenty?”

The village belles eyed the twenty-year-old Agatha with scorn on their faces and envy in their hearts.

Unable to sleep, Olivia and Leo had spent the night sharing knowledge and stories. Leo, still worried about the little Mouse, had finally crept into Olivia’s room to check on her. Sure enough, he found the Mouse trembling under the covers, drenched in cold sweat, and she immediately clung to his arm like a lifeline.

After a restless night, Leo did not rise until the sun was high.

Behind the main house, in the fenced livestock pen, Leo was riding a horse when militiaman Ivan came running up to report, “Leo—Captain! There’s a father in the village!”

Leo, still astride the horse, looked down at Ivan as though the man were a fool.

Ivan, feeling awkward, explained, “He says he’s a father! Wants to speak with our lord.”

“How bold! Come, let’s meet him!” Leo flicked his riding crop but didn’t dismount.

Ivan had no choice but to lead the horse out of the pen, cautious and watchful. The last time Leo had ridden out on his own, not only had he been thrown, but his normally docile mount had galloped wild, causing chaos in the settlement. Now, even with someone leading the horse, the villagers eyed him as nervously as they would a cattle thief.

Arriving at the village center, Leo immediately understood Ivan’s meaning.

The visitor was a plump, middle-aged man, barely one and a half meters tall, clad in a white robe marked with gold embroidery and bearing a prominent golden cross on his chest—a clear sign of some religious rank. The sunlight made the golden threads shimmer, lending the squat man an air of sanctity.

He was accompanied by two armed retainers in polished chain shirts, steel-plated pauldrons, iron gauntlets, and visored helmets. Their attire was so out of place in this remote village that the countryfolk stared in awe. Had they not worshipped their ancestral war god, some might have prostrated themselves on the spot.

Leo, after days of conversation with Bobak, had gained some understanding of the world’s religions. Now, sitting tall in the saddle, he asked, “Are you a priest of the Church of Radiant Light?”

In the imperial tongue, the word for “priest” was the same as for “father.” But in the North, where ancestral worship prevailed, such a notion was foreign. Ivan, unfamiliar with the term, didn’t realize it had another meaning.

“Indeed,” replied the short, stout priest, gazing up at Leo with a hint of annoyance. “I am Father Lawrence of the Church of Radiant Light. Where is your lord? I wish to speak with him.”

Standing next to Leo’s massive horse—its shoulder alone measured a meter and a half—the tiny Father Lawrence looked almost dwarfish. This only made him less inclined to speak with the brash, impolite youth before him.

Leo dismounted with a smile. “Our lord is away. I’m in charge here.”

“And you are?” Lawrence eyed him askance.

Leo rattled off, “I’m the local militia captain, magistrate, sheriff, tax collector, the lord’s personal guard, and his future son-in-law—Leo Mondo.”

Goodness! Administration, justice, military, finance—all in one, and the lord’s son-in-law to boot! Ivan’s eyes widened in amazement at the unfamiliar titles.

Father Lawrence, too, grew solemn, shaking Leo’s hand. “Young Master Mondo, I am Father Tours Lawrence, the Church’s priest at Isenport. You may call me Father Lawrence.”

“Honored Father Lawrence, what business brings you to our humble home?” Leo nodded, getting straight to the point.

“The Lord of Radiant Light has commanded me to spread his gospel. Where his light shines, there must be a church in his name,” Father Lawrence replied, his aura of sanctity radiating outward.

Leo was surprised. “Has the Light already reached here?”

Lawrence pointed to the sun, his expression inscrutable. “This is the Light made manifest, carrying out the Lord’s will. As am I, spreading his word.”

He spoke in the formal High Imperial, the official tongue of Atlantis, similar to classical Chinese. If not for learning some of the language from Olivia and the Mouse, and his mental flexibility from a previous life, Leo might have struggled to understand. Ivan, at least, was already lost, feeling only that Father Lawrence was noble, mysterious, and awe-inspiring.

Leo’s discussions with Bobak had taught him much about religion. The Northmen’s ancestor worship, the orcs’ shamanism, and the elves’ druidic faith were all polytheistic and inclusive, readily absorbing new gods and ideas. Ironically, this openness was a weakness in the face of aggressive monotheistic expansion.

Northern ancestor worship was loose and disorganized, lacking doctrine. Many Northmen didn’t mind adding a powerful new god to their household shrines, but none wished to share their ancestors with outsiders.

Pragmatic Northmen worshipped their own heroic ancestors, the elven demigods, and the orcish elemental spirits—just to be safe. When the faith of the Southern Lord of Radiant Light spread north, many simply added it to their repertoire.

But no Northman would ever say to a southerner, “This is my ancestor, powerful beyond compare! Why not call him your forebear too?”

Having received a thorough education, Leo understood all this at once and easily followed Bobak’s explanations, earning his respect.

Armed with this knowledge, Leo saw through Father Lawrence’s rhetoric.

He smiled. “So, you wish to build a Church of Radiant Light here in Riverbend?”

“Exactly!” Father Lawrence beamed. “I came from Isenport, guided by the Lord, to build a church and spread the gospel.”

“But isn’t there already a church in Isenport? Why come to Riverbend?”

Lawrence faltered. “The priest in Isenport is not me, but Father March. The Lord said the church under my care would be here.”

“Then you’re not a ‘Father,’ you’re a ‘Brother.’” Leo’s expression was blank. “To become a priest and oversee a church, you need official documents signed by the bishop of the diocese.”

In the imperial tongue, “priest” and “father” were the same, as were “monk” and “brother.” Church law stated that to become a priest and hold a church, a monk needed to pass the bishop’s examination and receive proper documentation.

Of course, rules were one thing, but in the wilds of Atlantis, unofficial chapels sprang up everywhere. Most country lords had no idea of the difference and were easily swayed by a few words. In the south, most knightly lords welcomed the church’s presence, as the eldest son inherited the land and the second son the church, allowing the family to collect taxes twice and strengthen their rule.

A perfect arrangement!

Unfortunately, this was the North—Leo’s territory.

“My brother in the Light, if you wish to become a priest, please produce your documents.”