Time passed quietly. More and more long lines of torchlight converged from every direction, illuminating the area around the stone tower as brightly as day.
There were over a hundred clergy members from the various churches alone, with the churches of Selûne, Lathander, Tyr, and Tymora making up the majority.
As for ordinary believers and adventurers, there were even more of them. Together they numbered nearly a thousand, completely surrounding the Royal Guard.
The Royal Guard had fewer than a hundred men, and the court mages were even fewer in number—barely a dozen. The two sides were completely mismatched.
No fighting had broken out, but the Royal Guard was already panicking. No one wanted to go to war with the churches, especially since many of the guards themselves were believers.
Yet they still hadn't received any orders from above and dared not withdraw. Many lowered their heads and stood empty-handed, refusing to touch their weapons as a form of protest.
Anser watched everything unfold with a smile, looking very much like someone enjoying the spectacle without caring how big it became.
He felt he had underestimated the power of faith. At this rate, if the two sides actually came to blows, the Royal Guard would collapse at first contact.
The royal family of Bral had grown too accustomed to looking down on everyone from above. They had completely misjudged their own weight in this matter. After today's fiasco, their already mediocre reputation and authority would probably sink to a new low.
Here and now, divine authority outweighed royal authority.
Moreover, the gods of evil alignments had their limitations.
Some people preached truth, goodness, and beauty. Some worshiped power. Some revered death. But very few people would openly proclaim in broad daylight that they were executioners, grave robbers, or poisoners...
Where there is light, there is darkness. But darkness is destined to remain the hidden side, confined to the Shadowfell, the Underdark, tunnels, cracks, and the hearts of men.
"You're not going out?" Anser asked, looking at Evan.
"No. I'm forcing the royal family to take a position." Evan's eyes flickered.
As a bishop, he had never represented only himself. He represented the Church of Silver Moon. For the royal family to surround a church bishop was a slight and an insult against the church itself. There was no possibility of simply letting the matter slide.
"Mmm~"
A faint groan came from the bedroom.
Anser turned and entered the room just in time to see Osborn propping himself up on one arm, his complexion rosy and healthy.
"How are you feeling?"
Osborn looked at Anser, then at Evan by the window, shame written across his face.
"I'm sorry. I thought I was being clever. I never should have brought him here."
Before losing consciousness, he had heard the commotion downstairs and guessed that Anser had arrived. Terrified that Anser might die at the hands of the evil god's Chosen, he had been shocked, frightened, and filled with regret, yet utterly powerless to do anything.
"A mere Chosen of an evil god? How could he possibly hurt me? He only got away because he ran fast enough. Otherwise, you'd be looking at his head on a pike by now."
Anser deliberately spoke in a relaxed tone, allowing a trace of contempt to show.
It wasn't entirely boasting. He truly hadn't been injured, and the evil god's Chosen really had fled.
"Huh?" Osborn looked skeptical.
He knew full well how terrifying Emmanuel was. When the two of them fought, all he could do was evade desperately. After barely holding on for a few dozen seconds, he had been severely wounded.
"The next time we meet will be the day he dies."
Anser's gaze was serious. He had never liked being targeted by someone.
During the skirmish earlier, neither side truly understood the other's capabilities. Both had held something back and neither had fought all-out.
If it happened again, he and Brunhilde would have a very good chance of winning. The difference was that Brunhilde would need to take the offensive while he focused on tying the enemy down.
But when he thought about Brunhilde's performance in that battle, he found himself uncertain again.
Whenever he needed room or time to maneuver, having a Finger of Death suddenly launched from behind him was... difficult to describe. Was she betting that Bane's Chosen would fail a Constitution saving throw, or that the target lacked necrotic resistance?
"That man is the second prince of the Bral royal family," Osborn hurriedly added, his expression complicated. "Forget killing him. We'll be lucky just to keep our lives. We can't stay here."
"It's not that serious. You should have a little faith in the churches."
Anser jerked his chin toward Evan.
"They've withdrawn," Brunhilde suddenly said.
Anser crossed the room in a few strides and went to the window. Below, the area was brightly lit. Squad after squad of silver-armored soldiers squeezed awkwardly through the crowd, hurrying away before disappearing into the night.
Evan's expression darkened. He had received neither an explanation nor an apology. The royal family had backed down, yet they had also chosen to ignore him.
"Damn it, the arrogance is unbelievable."
Osborn stepped over to the window. Even someone as good-natured as him couldn't help cursing when he saw the scene.
Brunhilde stood with her arms folded, her expression unchanged.
She was more rational than most and not a fanatic believer. She had never believed that divine authority would automatically triumph over royal authority.
If they wanted to force the royal family to bow their heads, intimidation alone would never be enough. They had to make them feel real pain.
"We could form an alliance." Her eyes gleamed as she made the suggestion with a smile.
Azuth and Selûne were not especially close, but both maintained a strong relationship with the Goddess of Magic. By nature, they belonged to the same camp.
Evan calmed himself, glanced at Anser, and nodded heavily.
"Emmanuel must die!"
Seeing the hatred in his expression, Anser nodded inwardly. Their objectives were now perfectly aligned.
There was also a hidden benefit to all of this.
When a Chosen died, would their divinity be seized by another Chosen, or reclaimed by the deity?
Regardless of which was true, as long as there were two or more Chosen around him, no one would suspect that he had "stolen" the divinity.
"What's your plan?" Brunhilde asked.
"I'll make sure everyone in the city learns what happened tonight. We'll mobilize the churches and the faithful to pressure the royal family and force them to hand over Emmanuel," Evan said after some thought.
"By then, the Chosen of the evil god will already be long gone." Brunhilde clearly didn't think much of the plan. "Better to find an opportunity and kill him directly. Once he's dead, the royal family will have no choice but to back down, whether they like it or not."
"That sounds good to me. I want to kill him with my own hands," Anser agreed.
"We'll do both." Evan accepted the suggestion without hesitation. This situation was different from before. To fulfill the divine oracle, there was no need to worry about the consequences afterward.
After a brief discussion, the clergy outside had already reached the building.
To avoid any information leaking out, Anser pulled Osborn aside and gave him a few instructions. Then he left with Brunhilde, returning to the basement beforehand and making sure to stow the black shield inside his dragonhide pouch.
He deliberately left two jars with Osborn. Both had been protected with Arcane Lock. If necessary, Osborn only had to break one. Once Anser sensed it, he would immediately return to the Rock of Bral to help.
Finding people was best left to locals. There was no point in him staying behind, so he simply teleported back to Fort Jacqueline with Brunhilde.
The moment the two stepped out of the portal, Iris hurried over.
Seeing the bloodstains on Brunhilde's clothes, she frowned slightly.
"Auntie, you're hurt?"
"I'm fine now. Thanks to your man. Otherwise, I'd have been finished this time." Brunhilde let out a slightly exaggerated sigh, equal parts lingering fear and genuine amazement.
"Someone isn't very good at spell duels. Otherwise, she wouldn't have ended up in such a sorry state," Anser added flatly.
"Hmph. Don't underestimate me. I've been on adventures too. I'm just not used to this level of combat." Brunhilde immediately defended herself.
"Sure."
Anser sat down nearby and didn't bother arguing.
He had no doubts about Brunhilde's spellcasting ability, but combat wasn't practice. The right spell had to be used at the right moment.
Especially in high-level battles, where the situation could change in an instant. A single mistake in judgment came with a price.
Seeing that Brunhilde looked ready to continue arguing, Iris knew she was simply being stubborn and quickly changed the subject.
"So you really encountered a Chosen of an evil god?"
"That's right. Most likely a follower of Bane..."
Brunhilde shot Anser a glare and gave a rough account of everything that had happened.
Nearby, Stoll listened quietly, his expression heavy.
He had merely taken a "nap," yet somehow the world had suddenly become unfamiliar.
Anser rubbed his temples and silently opened his character sheet.
On the twenty-sided die, the tenth symbol had become fully illuminated.