Only one of the semi-arched gates beneath the city wall was open, with a sparse flow of people entering and exiting. In the golden mist of dusk, the scene was rather desolate. When Simon walked over, he was stopped by a Guard, who whispered, "First time in The Rift, kid?"
"Yes, what's wrong?"
"You don't know the rules. There's an entry tax to pay, ten silver coins."
Simon smiled, looked at the six Guards at the entrance—five men and one woman—then took out ten gold coins. "Officer, it's getting cold. Please have a hot cup of mead with this money, and buy some trinkets for the lady officer."
A greedy exhalation came from beneath the Guard's helmet, reminiscent of a venomous snake flicking its tongue in a cage. He eagerly reached to snatch the gold coins, but Simon suddenly pulled his hand back.
The Guard uttered an "Oh." "Don't worry, young man, I'll remember your face. I'll give a heads-up when you enter the city, and my colleagues will look after you." It was rare to see someone so ugly; it was hard not to be impressed.
"No, in fact, I just want to inquire about some information."
"Ask, go ahead and ask, but let's agree first: you can't casually talk about the Black-Briar family."
"There's a Temple of Mara in The Rift. Are the priests there reliable?"
"Of course! They have an excellent reputation."
"I mean, can they really speak to Mara?"
"Yes, yes, yes, absolutely. My wife was also found for me by Mara's blessing." The other Guards also gathered around, all praising the effectiveness of the Temple of Mara.
The Troll muttered to himself, "Is this real or fake? It's a marriage agency." So what exactly is the clue to restoring his mother's memories?
Previous conversations had also made it clear to Simon that Gaelina's memories only went up to age twenty-one, her most beautiful and healthy years, when she was highly skilled and full of dreams for the future and distant places. Countless young people embarked on journeys with hope and confusion, but what made her different was that she was a lone wolf abandoned by her hometown. She wandered everywhere, working, stealing, robbing, and occasionally reading books. Her grandmother had taught her to read and write, and as a weak person, she still knew how to draw courage from books to move forward.
His mother met his father around this age. Occasional fragments in her diary spoke of the scenes of their love.
Mara, the Divine in charge of love and marriage. In the Nordic Pantheon, she is Kyne's handmaiden. In the Imperial Pantheon, she is the Mother Goddess, the embodiment of cosmic maternity.
This makes it quite clear: his mother's lost memories of love are related to Mara, but she is merely an unconscious higher spirit and would not act spontaneously. Therefore, someone must have used Mara's divine power to erase his mother's memories.
Simon asked the Guards, "What are these priests like as people?"
"We don't interact with them often. We occasionally see a few of them in the tavern. They all seem like very good people. Brother, you'll know if you go see for yourself, but I warn you not to do anything illegal."
Waving goodbye to the greedy Guards, Simon strolled into the city. The streets were relatively clean, with houses tightly packed on both sides. These tall buildings were grand, some wooden, some stone, with tightly laid square tiles on their high, triangular roofs. This was where the wealthy lived; fancy things belonged above ground. As for the poor, they lived in the city's dark underground, in crude shacks by the river.
Walking a short distance, he could see the river, which cut through the city like a deep gorge. The stench of rotting fish and shrimp constantly wafted up, damp and greasy, like unhygienic seafood markets. The air was filled with a nauseating smell that made one want to tear off one's nose.
The Temple of Mara was next to the Jarl's residence, separated by a Black-Briar family villa. A red canvas flag hung at the entrance, adorned with a pale yellow Mara symbol. A Guard leaned lazily against the wall, nodded to Simon, then turned his head back to gaze at the street. No one knew what he was looking at.
Simon walked through the courtyard, covered in fallen leaves and dry grass, climbed the steps, and gently knocked on the bronze door knocker of the temple gate.
A Dark Elf priestess with noticeable wrinkles opened the door. The bright candlelight from inside shone out, giving her a golden rim. Faint patches of light were on her old, orange robe. Her first words were, "Lady Mara bless you, my child."
The priestess stepped aside, inviting Simon in.
"Do you have any doubts?"
Simon's first glance fell upon Mara's brass statue, glowing with a gentle halo in the candlelight, its surface showing some verdigris. It depicted a well-dressed woman, in the pose of a martyr, her head tilted to the side, hands naturally open at her sides, with two tear stains on her face, like a loving mother in distress.
Simon walked through rows of pews to the altar table. A wooden, carved offering box lay on the floor. He stood there, gazing upon Mara's face.
This was mortals' conception of her, not her true appearance, but that was not important.
"Excuse me, how can one receive Revelation from Lady Mara?"
"Ah, so it's you."
Simon was startled. "So it's me?"
"Yes, Lady Mara informed me long ago that a man with doubts would come seeking love."
"No, I'm not here to seek love."
"I didn't say you were here to seek your own love." Though old, the Dark Elf priestess still possessed a pure vivacity, out of place in the decaying city of The Rift, like sunlight at night. Their devout faith brought these priests immense spiritual satisfaction and high moral standards. They were almost the last glimmer of hope in this city that was rotting away.
Simon showed respect, bowing slightly. "I haven't had the pleasure of knowing your name."
"I have no grand name. I am Dinja Balu, merely an insignificant seeker of knowledge before Lady Mara."
"Then can you tell me how to resolve the turmoil in my heart?"
"In truth, I only have the right to declare the Revelation. How to interpret it is entirely up to you."
"I'm all ears."
"Even the defiled fool gazes upon the flower of love,
What was once possessed, to death will not be relinquished,
In the profound darkness, there is the blood-red key to the dead,
When truly beloved ones meet,
The sorrowful soul shall find peace.
Together, journey to the endless garden of the Divine."
Simon smacked his lips, not understanding at all.
"Forgive my dullness, but is there any further insight?"
Dinja shook her head, smiling kindly. "There's no need to rush. Why not dedicate time to those close to you? When that fated opportunity arises, you will naturally seize it."
Simon took a deep breath, silent for a moment, then bowed deeply to Mara's statue. "Thank you for the Divine's guidance. I wish to offer a small contribution, so that your priests may shine even brighter."
Leaving behind twenty thick gold bars, Simon, before night had completely swallowed the sky, got on his motorcycle and headed towards High Hrothgar.
Many things don't always go smoothly, and setbacks are normal. What Simon needed to do was meticulously sort out the clues.
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